Why had he thought he'd be sitting near Maelyn? For some reason, he had imagined himself beside her at Ivy's birth feast, engaged in captivating conversation. What a fool he was.

Of course, Maelyn sat at the head table with her sisters. Of course, the tables nearest them were flanked with sparkly nobles from Merridell. Of course, Willow found himself at the bottom table, sitting next to a chatty lady who gave him more attention than he desired. Hadn't Ivy promised to sit him close to the royal family? She must have forgotten.

"Thought they were bringing out dessert," the chatty lady said.

"They said they were." Willow had made eye contact with Maelyn only twice. She hadn't spoken to him. He knew she had a party to host and was doing a fine job of it. He hoped there would be dance rings later, which might give him a chance to speak to her. Even better would be if she spoke to him first.

For the second time, the chatty lady asked how long he'd be staying in Runa. Willow shrugged. He had a good view of the head table, only partly obstructed by the mound of gifts. He had wondered if he could guess which one was Princess Coralina and found her in less than a second. To the left of Heidel's empty chair, the girl with copious black curls, winking gold earrings, and a gown meant to draw the eye. Her expressions, gestures, and laugh all suggested someone who relished attention. Even the wrong kind. He understood—a little—why Roke had spoken of her the way he did. But still despised him for it.

"You must have come a long way, with that tan," the chatty lady said.

"Grunwold." Willow didn't mind the lady, just hoped she wasn't interested in him. She wasn't his age. Older—he couldn't tell by how much. Enough to make it strange. She had the round, welcoming face of a baker's wife, though she was dressed as a woman of Merridell.

"Oh! Been there many times myself. Let me guess: Harbor Town? Hangman's Hollow? King's Elbow?"

"Windy Corner." Willow watched Ivy now. She looked excited about her cake, which had not yet emerged from the kitchen. Heidel would probably roll it out like a parade float, to the gasp and wonder of the guests. Royal desserts were meant to impress the eye as much as the tongue.

The chatty lady grinned. "Should've known! Love those old parts, so much more character. Jarrod has built up King's Elbow too much, you can't squeeze a piglet through those streets. But that's where the money is. Seems like everyone has some business in the Elbow, or their father does."

Willow nodded. "My father did. He owned several houses on Withering Alley. Had tenants there."

"Nobleman?"

"Lord Spruce. No longer with us."

The chatty lady bowed her head respectfully. "May his spirit rest in glory. You're very young to lose your father."

"Thank you," Willow said. Out of mere politeness, he was about to ask the lady's name when an unexpected sound turned all heads to the kitchen door.

A crash of dishes. Hard laughter—a girl's. An explosive storm of vulgarity—a man's. More dishes crashing. Maelyn and Briette jumped up simultaneously and ran for the kitchen door. Briette got inside first. Maelyn paused for barely a moment and her eyes found Willow across the room. In the next moment, she had passed through the door and Willow was on his feet. He hoped he hadn't misunderstood. The look had not been a plea for help, more like: Whatever this is, I wouldn't mind if you were there.

He excused himself and made his way around the tables as discreetly as possible. Not easy when every pair of eyes was pointed at the kitchen door, where the screaming continued. Ivy now sat rigid, her thin face white with fear.

Willow pushed through the kitchen door.

Disaster. Broken plates everywhere and chunks of some yellowish food. A man stood at the center of it, shouting at Heidel. Some high nobleman, richly dressed. His entire front was plastered with gobs of a white substance, thick and creamy, and chunks of that yellowish food. In his hair, on his face, down his tunic. A mound of that same yellow-and-white substance sat on the worktable behind him, looking like a smashed pumpkin.

"Vile WITCH!" The man was clawing the gobs of food off his clothes and hurling them at Heidel, who had distanced herself but still laughed riotously. "I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS!"

"Go ahead and try!" Heidel cried, shrieking with laughter when the food struck her. The man now grabbed fistfuls of the stuff off the table and fired them at her like snowballs.

Cake. Willow smelled it all around him. Heidel flung back the chunks he rained on her, looking like she loved every moment of it. But the man was enraged. They both ignore Maelyn's orders to cease and Briette's attempts to get between them. They just fought around her.

The kitchen door swung open again. "Heidel? Are you hurt?" Ivy rushed in, thumping on her crutch. "Heidel?"

Heidel stopped. As did the nobleman. They both looked at Ivy, whose large eyes were absorbing the scene in front of her.

"Heidel... is that my cake?" Ivy asked.

Willow noted the complete change in Heidel. Her laughter had vanished. She had a stricken look as if someone had slapped her into consciousness.

"Uh... it wasn't good. I couldn't serve it," Heidel said. "I was going to find something else."

"So you just...." Ivy stared at the chunks of cake thrown all around the kitchen. Her eyes rose to Heidel, filled with disbelieving tears. Without saying more, she thumped back out the kitchen door.

"Ivy...." Heidel started for the door, but Maelyn grabbed her arm. "No. You've done quite enough." Maelyn released a breath, gripped her own head for a moment, then lowered her arms with a look of weariness. "Well, this should give the nobles a lovely story to spread. Now no one will ever think we're a bunch of unruly orphans who don't deserve to be princesses. Will they, Heidel?"

Heidel looked defiantly unrepentant. "He insulted me."

"I don't apologize," the man said.

Willow felt stirred to action before another brawl broke out. "Beg your pardon, sir. Can I be of service to you? Help you get back to your carriage?"

"He's staying here," Maelyn said. "But thank you, Willow, that's a good idea. Please escort Eravis back to his room so he can change. I believe his manservant is up there. Meanwhile, I've got to come up with an explanation for our guests about this, which will, of course, be very humiliating for me. While I'm doing that, you, Heidel, will clean this kitchen entirely, and you, Briette, will not help her! And then I expect an apology for Ivy. From both of you." Maelyn's eyes swerved from Heidel to Eravis. "Willow, please take the prince."

He was a prince? Willow felt only mildly surprised—the clothes should've told him. To avoid the embarrassment of being seen by the guests, he accompanied Prince Eravis out the back door of the kitchen, past the gardens and stables, to another door in the rear of the castle. Eravis seemed to know his way up the stairs, suggesting he had been there before. Not knowing what else to say, Willow offered some sympathy for his predicament.

"She's a poisonous wench! Never coming back here," Eravis spat out.

"Did you really insult her?"

"We've always done it! What is wrong with her?"

Willow shrugged. "Maybe it's fun for you and not for her."

"Well, I'm never coming back!" Eravis turned his burning gray eyes on Willow for a moment. Even spattered with cake, he was striking, with that black hair and square-cut jawline. Willow felt a momentary uneasiness that this handsome man—a prince—was staying under the same roof as Maelyn. But thankfully, it sounded like he wouldn't stay long.

"Don't know why I bother," Eravis muttered. He looked at Willow again. "Who are you, anyway? I've never seen you here before."

"Not from these parts, Your Highness. Here at the gracious invitation of Princess Ivy."

He didn't understand the subtle relief on the prince's face. "Your name?"

"Willow. Royal Messenger to King Jarrod."

Eravis gave an unsmiling nod. "Well, Willow, perhaps someday we'll meet under less infuriating circumstances." They had stopped in front of a door that Willow assumed to be the prince's chamber. Willow stepped back and bowed. "I will look forward to that. Good day, Your Highness."

I like him, Willow thought as he headed downstairs. Probably not a bad fellow when he wasn't provoked. But he wasn't likely to see him again. Not after this.

"Hello there!" A female voice broke his thoughts and startled him. "Willow, right? I've been dying to meet you!"

Princess Coralina. He had just come down the steps to the landing above the main corridor. She was coming up and met him there.

Willow dropped a deep bow. "A pleasure, Your Highness." Holy Toes and Noses. No wonder. You could search for an age and not find a face like that, so artfully sculpted to drive men from their senses. Were her eyes purple? More than anything else, Willow felt pure astonishment. She couldn't be real.

He saw the quick drop of her gaze, assessing him from head to toe. Whatever she saw must have pleased her, because her smile widened. "You're not at all like your brother."

"Well...." Willow didn't feel like explaining. Nor did she seem to need it.

"Maelyn has spoken well of you. I can see why. She hasn't been too aggravating, has she?" She tilted her head and tipped her definitely purple eyes up at him.

"Not at all." All Willow had heard was that Maelyn had spoken well of him. How well? Very well? Somewhat well? He wished he could ask for direct quotes.

"If you ever find her troublesome, please come to me. I know how to handle her." Coralina playfully tugged one of her long curls straight before letting it bounce back into shape.

"I'll be sure to do that." Willow hoped his tone conveyed the hidden meaning that he would not be doing that under any circumstances. "Was there anything else, Your Highness?"

"Coco. I like to be called Coco." She tipped her head toward the other shoulder. "And yes, there is something else, Willow. You see, I'm giving a play...."

Switching to Maelyn next! Haven't written that chapter so it will probably be up on Friday. :)