The kitchens were the fiery heart of the castle.

  At least, that was what the Chef always said. It was certainly warm enough to be so. But in another very literal sense, it was in the center, and thus not too far from any one room. Unless you happened to be in one of the spires. But the people who lived up there tended not to care as much about their food. Or if they did, they came to where it was served, or ensured some means to get it up to them before it cooled.

  Cecil sped up as he heard the clang of pots and pans, the smell of freshly baked bread, and savory meat over wood fires. He turned a corner and looked into the kitchen. People carried sheets of cookies and breads from the ovens to the cooling tables. Two maids scrubbed pots. Two more peeled a growing pile of potatoes. Their orange uniform hidden behind a brown apron.

  Cecil sat himself down in a chair by one of the back tables patiently. Just one table over he watched some girl in a cream apron spread icing on small cakes with a practiced flick of a metal spatula.

  The kitchen was a whole lot busier than usual. Was there supposed to be something happening today? Perhaps someone was throwing a small get together or party? But with the recent crisis, not many people would be ready to celebrate just yet.

  “Cecil dear! It's been a while. And you just missed Fanny, she was looking for you.”

  He smiled up at the round rosy cheeked women. “I know Mrs. Mayrie. I’ve been busy recently with projects. Do you know what Fanny needed? Does it have to do with the cakes?”

  She chuckled and tapped her nose, “you must have squirreled yourself away again to have not heard the news. Everyone has been talking about it.”

  His mind went to the girls gossiping in the library, “what news?”

  “Well, since they’re doing well in their studies, and almost of age anyway, it’s been decided that Arron and Erris will be sent on their diplomacy studies a year early. It’s not been decided where they will go yet, but they hope to finalize their plans by the end of the summer. The queen decided to throw a small intimate get-together for them.”

  Pride for his siblings fought in his stomach with jealousy and despair for his own future. How could he follow in their footsteps when he was so far behind? And what if he was found lacking? He could imagine the hooded gaze of his father and mother staring silently at him. Wondering if he was truly their child. Regretting that they’d had one more.

  Mayrie chuckled, “don’t look so down lad. We’ve got plenty of misbakes for you to snack on tonight. Though you had better hurry back to your room. We don’t want your maid to find you here.”

  “Why would Fanny be here?”

  Mayrie reached under one of the tables and pulled out a small bag which she gave to Cecil, “Oh she has her reasons,” she winked, “now git. I’ve got a party to bake for.”

  Then she disappeared into the careful dance of the kitchen staff. Fanny would sometimes get him food late at night, but he had a snack now and wouldn’t be hungry. Did she come down here for more reasons than to get him a snack? He would have to add that to his list of things to know.

  He hopped off his chair and placed the small bag of treats into the outside pocket of his book bag as he walked down the long halls to his room. There was too much information he needed to know too suddenly. But he should be able to ask Fanny when he got back to the room. Then he could focus on reading his other books.

  Only, when he did get back to his room, he found Fanny sitting in the armchair facing the door, knitting winter gloves that matched her yellow and white uniform. He quickly noted through the sound of clicking needles that his clothes were laid out, bath drawn, and her face was cold.

  “Where have you been?”

  Click click.

  “Uh here and there. The library.”

  Click click.

  “Fine. I looked everywhere for you, and now you have less than an hour to get ready for the party. Go bathe, and be quick about it. You look like you’ve been rolling in the dust all day.”

  Click click.

  Cecil hurried himself to the bathing closet and shucked his clothes quickly. The needles paused, then he jumped in. Cold seized his muscles and he yelped once he bounced back from the surface.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “What gives?”

  “Hurry up!”

  He shivered and thought mean thoughts to keep himself warm. But in his heart he gave her grudging appreciation. That was probably the fastest he had ever cleaned himself.

  It wasn’t until Fanny had thrown him out, hair still damp, that he realized he hadn't asked her about why she might be spending more time in the kitchen. But as he jogged to the small party room, he also knew that it was a bad time to ask. He would just need to remember later. That and carving knives and wood. After he had read the book on ghosts, and the recent periodicals.

  Before he knew it, he stood in front of the rosewood door, decorated with carved flowers. There was one guard on either side, in their polished half armor. The one specially made for events, and included an embroidered blue and white tunic underneath to represent the colors of the crown. As he was bowed in, he ran his fingers through his hair one more time. A keen feeling of doom settling upon his chest. He had messed up, but had no idea how badly yet.

  Inside the room was decorated with floating orbs that glowed pale yellow. A small dance floor in the middle was surrounded by tables, chairs, and a long table of finger foods featuring small iced finger cakes.

  And it looked like the party was in full force. It was worse than bad. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach as he went to discreetly grab a plate.

  Once he had one, he could pretend that he had always been there.

  He dodged Uncle Chambers, the head of the council of lords as he talked with father. Then he slipped around a group of girls talking to his brother Arron and made it to the table. Cecil chuckled at their attempt. Only the immediate family knew that Arron had developed an impenetrable mental shield when he turned nine. It meant that on the battlefield, no enemy telepaths would be able to access his mind to distract or destroy it. And on the ballroom battlefield, he was immune to all the mental attacks that the beauties that surrounded him might be attempting to employ. Despite never succeeding, they also never gave up.

  Cecil had to give it to them. They were persistent.

  He stopped in front of the hors d'oeuvre table and talked briefly to the yellow uniformed maid behind it.

  The server plated the few things he indicated, then handed the plate to him. He turned and bumped into someone. Panicked, he looked up, then scowled.

  “Tavv. What's wrong with you?”

  “Oh nothing. I was just wondering why my little brother was soooooo late.”

  “Late? I've always been here. This is my third plate.”

  “Really? Then where are you sitting?”

  Cecil turned to point to the corner and froze. Name cards were on the table. Why had mother decided on seating arrangements for the small, so called, intimate, gathering?

  He glared back at Tavv, “Oh, here and there. I’ve been talking to alot of people you know. No time to sit.”

  Tavv grinned, “Great! Then let me introduce you to the newly engaged Elise, and I won’t tell anyone of your regrettable oversight”.

  “Sureee why not?”

  Tavv steered him towards the other side of the room.

  “So, who is she getting stuck to?”

  “Cousin Fogye.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “A very distant cousin. Great-Grandfather’s great grandson. They live in the country, and want more money. And her family wants our last name. It's the perfect trade.”

  “Truly a match made in heaven, but why do I need to talk to her?”

  “For my own amusement. There she is, the girl in the pale blue dress with the butterflies in her hair. I’ll give you the signal when you can stop talking to her.”

  “Fine.”

  Cecil waited until he couldn’t see Tavv before approaching Elise. She seemed a nice girl, if too prone to giggling fits. He truly wished her the best. Luckily, Tavv had already made the signal. So, when the conversation shifted, he carefully bowed out and went to wander the tables for his placard. Before he’d gone ten paces, Tavv sidled up to him.

  “Good job as always.”

  “Yeah yeah. Does it look nice?”

  In response, Tavv discreetly brandished a small white handkerchief with a TE monogrammed inside a heart on one corner and a border made of lace flowers. Perfect for a bride to be.

  “Great. I’m sure you have none like it in your collection. Now that you have what you wanted, mind taking me to my table and covering if anyone asks?”

  Tavv sighed dramatically as he tucked the kerchief in a secret pocket in his vest. “You have no appreciation for the finer fiber arts. And of course I’ll cover for you, if you don’t rat me out.”

  “Rat you out for what?”

  Tavv snapped his fingers, “Exactly! And you just passed your table.”

  Cecil sighed and turned around. There were so many things he would prefer to be doing right now.

  Cecil went and had short conversations with ten separate groups, made a joke or two, then left for the next cluster. That way most people would remember him being there and saying something. It was the perfect tactic, and worked well.

  After it was socially acceptable to leave, Cecil discreetly slipped out. He took a route that passed a section of windows to the outside that shone golden shafts of yellow as the sun set. Then he turned a corner to the inner palace, and ultimately to his room. He cautiously turned the handle and opened the door slowly, but heard no one inside. He walked in and paused looking around. Where was Fanny? She was usually here when he was… In any case, if she wasn’t here, she wouldn’t know that he wasn't at the party. He grabbed his stack of reading materials and left to go read them in the library.