I felt my stomach plummet. I waited for a couple of seconds for Queen Klara to swoop in and gracefully explain the situation, but she didn't.

               "Are you a mute, girl?" Grandma deCourcy pushed.

               "That she certainly is not," Princess Calista added her unwanted two cents in.

               "Yes, I am," I answered, trying to ignore the sudden shame I felt.

               "You're what?" Grandma deCourcy rose a haughty eyebrow that looked mostly penciled in. "A mute?"

               "No, I'm not a mute." I felt those embers inside of me start to sizzle. "I am a servant."

               "A servant?!" For some reason, the Grandma looked flabbergasted by my answer, as if the possibility had never even crossed her mind.

               I said nothing. Queen Klara had told me to keep my composure, and I was going to do my best to do just that.

               "I think that's wonderful," Prince Duarte said in his fresh child voice, looking at me with a sweet little smile. He looked over at the Queen. "I think that was very insightful of you to appoint one of your servants, Aunt Klara."

               I gave Duarte a grateful smile—I had someone on my side. Who cared if it was a little someone? Perhaps now the old coot would give it a rest and—

"Insightful?!" Granny deCourcy cried. The very word seemed to outrage her. Duarte sunk a hair lower into his chair. Suddenly, her voice switched to sugar and honey in the most blatant 100-to-0 incident I'd ever witnessed. "Of course, Duarte, I shan't blame you for thinking such things." She patted his dark head with a wrinkled hand covered in garish rings. "You're still a little boy. Only thirteen, bless your heart. And so sweet too."

Duarte smiled somewhat awkwardly. Grandma withdrew her hand from his head and instantly went back to attacking me.

"There is nothing wise nor insightful about given a raggedy servant such an honor," she snarled, her voice losing all its syrup in an instant. She shot Queen Klara a sharp glance. "Honestly, Klara. What were you thinking?" I thought maybe she'd rib into the Queen like usual, but apparently I was a more interesting victim for her at the time. Because at the end of the day, Queen Klara was her son's wife and was Queen of the country. At the end of the day, I was a servant who's dating life was kind of up in the air at the moment, what with my recent exchange with Luke.

"What are you even wearing?" she asked me. "Did you pick that up at a homeless shelter?"

I said nothing. Never mind that I had thought my outfit was lackluster compared to the rest of the table—I didn't like it when she made jabs at me about it.

"Well? Aren't you going to answer my question? You claimed to not be a mute," she snapped.

"I apologize," I answered coldly. "I had the impression you were looking for a defeated countenance from me, not a genuine answer."

I saw a smile from the corner of my eye. Prince Coleman's.

Grandma deCourcy's nostrils flared. "Who do you think you are?"

I sat a little straighter. "Did you not hear? I'm this year's Queen Maiden."

That's right, I thought. 10/10. Burn. Savage. Take that you old coot.

               I glanced at the Queen, who looked paler than normal. She shook her head the tiniest bit.

               WHAT? What was I supposed to do? Let her walk all over me? It was too much.

               Grandma deCourcy looked stunned. "What did you say to me, child?" she demanded.

               I blanched, and my fists curled. How should I answer?

               Apparently I only had a short window to answer, because Grandma started to rant.

               "You think you are clever, don't you? I asked you who you thought you were and you spit some petty answer back in my face. My face. But you chose not to answer the question, so let me tell you who you are. You are just a servant. You clean up after people more important than you for a living. You dress up in a silly little uniform and walk around asking 'how may I serve you?'."

               I suddenly felt a hand cover my balled fist. It was Prince Coleman's hand under the table. My heartbeat quickened, and suddenly my heart was starting to beat to a different tune than anger. My hand relaxed and I looked over at him, and he looked at me and shook his head slightly.

               He didn't want me to do anything either? But...

"I have no idea why you are sitting at this table," she was ranting. "Klara has done a lot of stupid things but this just takes the cake. What are you, exactly? You aren't useful or important or anybody worth mentioning at all. At the end of the day, when all your snark goes away, you have nothing." Her eyes were cold. "You are nothing."

Instantly, the angry bonfire inside of me suddenly felt like ice water had been dumped on it, leaving me cold and empty.

You are nothing.

I could barely feel the warmth from Prince Coleman's hand on my own.

"And another thing!" Grandma deCourcy started in her crotchety voice.

"Enough, Grandmother." Prince Coleman's voice was deep and collected, but deadly. Like his father, his voice commanded authority. It commanded attention.

Grandma deCourcy looked like her chair had been swept out from under her.

"You are being cruel," he told her, leveling quite a fervent stare on her. "It is an unfair battle you have waged against Cassandra. She can't very well fight against you, can she? Her elder and her technical superior in rank?" His hand was still on my own; his grip increased ever so slightly. He shook his head and looked downward at his plate. "I thought something like this would have been beneath you, Grandmama."

               Prince Coleman looked at me as subtly as he could, and I thought I might cry.

               No, maybe I was really going to cry with the tears stinging my eyes.

               He then removed his hand from my own and I immediately missed its comforting presence. I almost reached back and to grab his hand again in a desperate cry for an ally, for help.

               "Oh, Coleman!" Grandma deCourcy began with a gasp. She started on her sugary apologies to him, her precious grandbaby, and how she was sorry that he felt that way about the situation, and how the whole thing was some misunderstanding. I wasn't paying too close attention. I was busy trying to discover how to suck tears back into my eyeballs while I looked down at an increasingly blurry plate. My best solution was to blink a lot and try to think of happier things other than the fact that I was a nobody and that I was nothing.