Heidel carried a steaming cup of tonic and set it before her sister, Ivy. Ivy struggled to breathe at the best of times, and was currently afflicted with a thick, choking cough. The tonic, hopefully, would open her passages and bring air to her starving lungs.

"It's very hot," Heidel said. "But try to drink it that way. It's more effective." She had shredded the root of elecampane, an herb from her garden, and soaked the pieces in boiling water before straining them out. To sweeten the bitter taste, she'd added honey and nutmeg.

It still would be terrible.

"Thank you," Ivy squeaked amidst the coughs that shuddered her chest. She sat on a stool by the kitchen worktable, her crutch propped within reach. Like Heidel, Ivy's hair was reddish, though of a different hue. Where Heidel was dark russet, Ivy was bright pumpkin-orange, gathered by a ribbon at the nape of her neck and flowing behind in a long tail.

"I'm sorry you're sick on your birthday." Heidel climbed onto a stool near her sister. Ivy cradled the drink and sipped carefully. "Sixteen years of-" (cough, cough) "-medicine." Ivy smiled. "I'm still waiting for one that tastes good."

Heidel laughed. "Mine are better than Joc's!" She kicked off her shoes, nestling her toes on a large, shaggy hound that slept beneath the table. Squire was her favorite footrest.

"Did Joc-" Ivy crumpled into coughs again and simply waved at her tonic.

"Joc taught it to me," Heidel said. "But the nutmeg was my idea."

Ivy's face drooped and Heidel cursed herself for mentioning their former cook. He'd been gone for almost a year. Not because he died... because he had run away. Around Ivy, one should never speak of anything sad. Or ugly. Or frightening. Her frail body housed an even frailer spirit.

"I'm starting the cake soon." Heidel spoke brightly, folding her arms on the table. Ivy sipped the tonic and sighed, gratefully drawing the air to her lungs.

"I'm excited!" Heidel said. "Never made a Princess-and-the-Pea cake before."

"You never had to," Ivy mumbled, another reference to Joc who'd always made the princesses' cakes. Heidel smothered a groan.

"Sometimes I imagine he was kidnapped by a barbarian horde," Ivy said. "But he defeated them and became their king. And now they have to cook for him."

Heidel smiled. She missed Joc no less than any of her sisters, but saw no point to such fantasies. Joc was gone. That was that.

The soothing smell of warm bread sifted through the kitchen. Heidel had halted her breakfast preparations when Ivy limped in, nearly blue with suffocation. At any moment her sisters would be descending to the dining hall. Being Kitchen Princess for nearly a year had taught Heidel something: her sisters ate a lot.

She stood and returned to the plate of cold pork she'd been slicing. Ivy drank dutifully, her fine features pinched as she tried to ignore the taste.

"You said what, fifty guests tonight?" Heidel asked, trying to determine how large to make the cake. Ivy shook her head. "Thirty at most. I don't want a crowd. Oh!" Her startled eyes jumped to Heidel's face. "Oh Heidel, I forgot to tell you. Prince Eravis is coming."

Heidel's knife stopped sawing through the hunk of pork. "Eravis?"

"I'm sorry."

"You invited him?"

"I wasn't going to but Coco helped me make the guest list. She had ten princes when we started but I narrowed it down to three. You know how she-"

"I know." Heidel tried to hide her bubbling rage. "He's definitely coming?"

Ivy nodded. "I didn't think he would accept but he did. And I'm sorry, I meant to tell you so much sooner. I just forgot about it." From the adjoining dining hall came the sound of scraping chairs as the seven remaining princesses arrived for their breakfast.

"Go to them." Heidel handed Ivy her crutch. "Tell them I'm nearly done."

Ivy propped the polished wooden crutch beneath her shoulder and limped through the door on her misshapen foot. Heidel released the cloud of curses that had collected in her throat.

Eravis was coming. Eravis who, somehow, did everything better than Heidel. Dancing. Riding. Speaking. Baking. While most princes never poked a royal toe in the kitchen, Eravis, like Heidel, found pleasure in preparing food. The cakes he made were masterpieces, almost too beautiful to eat.

And Heidel's cakes were disasters.

*********

The nine princesses sat together at the far end of the dining hall. They shared one side of the high table, facing outward toward their guests. The backs of the princesses' chairs rose nearly to the ceiling, the dark wood adorned with carvings of leafless trees. Ivy, as Birthday Princess, had the middle chair tonight.

Long tables and benches had been arranged around the room, with a square of open space for jugglers and musicians. Heidel listened to a minstrel singing a sentimental ballad as she tucked away the roasted peacock on her plate. Her feet ached from hours of heavy toil in the kitchen, but she was pleased to see the guests enjoying their food.

She leaned toward Briette, sitting at her left. Briette wore a gown of buttery yellow, a color well-suited to her caramel brown hair. She had neglected to put on a crown, as usual.

"Where's Eravis?" Heidel whispered.

Briette smiled with a subtle nod at the opposite corner of the room. Heidel looked but couldn't see whichever guests were dining there. Her view was blocked by a small table mounded high with Ivy's gifts.

Heidel grinned. "Thank you."

"We thought you'd want him out of sight," Briette said. Heidel smirked. "Maybe. But now how am I supposed to throw bones at him?"

"Did you want to?" Briette asked, surprised.

Heidel rang out a hard laugh. Poor Briette. Attempts at humor died on her doorstep.

When the minstrel finished his song, Maelyn raised her goblet and offered an elegant toast to Ivy. She elaborated on Ivy's art, the paintings, sculptures, and ornaments that bedecked their small castle, stirring envy among the monarchs of much grander realms. Ivy listened with a bashful smile, her carrot hair fire-bright under the torches. Heidel hoped the nobles took notice of Ivy's beauty. Most people, it seemed, could not look past her crutch.

Applause followed Maelyn's toast. Heidel's gaze drifted to the stack of gifts again. Fruit and wine and fabric and jewelry and perfume and books. Much of it rare and costly. "We should keep watch," Heidel said. "Especially when the nobles leave. Someone may try to snitch Ivy's gifts."

"Oh Heidel." Briette reached for her goblet of wine. "You still think a mysterious thief is creeping about the castle?"

"Someone stole my Lumen bread," Heidel said, her fingers clenching the knife by her plate. "Right from my kitchen. When I was gone-only moments! It had to be someone we know!"

"You were absent for several minutes," Briette said. "It could have been a vagabond who climbed through the window. I don't think we'll find the thief unless he confesses."

Heidel narrowed her eyes at the gifts. "Or tries again."

"Well, I can't prove this," said Briette. "But I don't think it was hunger that motivated the thief. I think he took the Lumen bread because it's a delicacy."

Heidel bristled at the idea. "A thief who snatches fancy food for his own enjoyment?"

Briette shrugged. "Just a notion."

Heidel thought of her Princess-and-the-Pea cake, waiting in the kitchen. Six hours of work, standing unguarded. She pushed back her plate and stood. "Excuse me a moment."

She skirted along the stone wall, behind the crowded benches of nobles. At the end of the room she pushed through a swinging door. The kitchen was hot, as always, the air seasoned with wood smoke and herbs. The fire in the hearth burnt low, beneath the empty iron spits on which she'd roasted the peacocks. Her worktable sprawled across the front of the kitchen, leaving the rear for sacks and barrels and cupboards.

Heidel stopped short. The door fell shut behind her, fanning air across her back.

A man stood by her worktable. He faced the Princess-and-the-Pea cake, which rose halfway to the ceiling like a small tower. One hand covered his mouth as he chuckled to himself. Heidel knew that scornful chuckle, that overly-confident stance, that artfully-tousled head of dark hair. And when he turned, she knew that sly, twisted grin.

"Hello, Princess Headache!"

Heidel planted her hands on her hips. "Get out of my kitchen, Eravis."