We started to eat dinner. The food was delicious. I tried to focus on the rich flavors in my mouth to lift my spirits.

               "What brings you to Aregano from America?" Prince Duarte asked me. I was grateful for a question to distract me.

               "Well, I just finished school and my plan was to live abroad for a year before returning home," I answered.

               "And what is your career field?" Duarte tilted his head.

               "I majored in creative writing, so I guess you could say I'm a writer. That's what I want to go into," I told him.

               "What sort of things do you like to write?" Queen Klara asked, finally being useful for once this whole dinner.

               "I like writing fiction, I guess. Fantasy stories and things like that," I answered. "I'm hoping to get a fair bit of writing done while I'm in Aregano."

               "That seems an amiable goal," the Queen said.

               "How do you like Aregano?" Duarte asked.

               "It's very nice," I said. It was a generic answer, so I decided to elaborate. "It's very pretty here—very green. Of course, it's green where I come from, but there are so many mountains here as well."

               "America is a big country; which state do you live in?" Duarte asked.

               "Alexandria, Virginia. It's just a little bit south of Washington D.C. My family owns a souvenir shop there. That's actually where I met—" I turned to Prince Coleman but stopped. Maybe I didn't want to tell that story. He fidgeted in his seat a little awkwardly.

               "Met who?" Prince Duarte asked. "Met Coleman?"

               I smiled awkwardly. "Yeah. It's where I met Prince Coleman."

               "Really?" Grandma deCourcy leaned forward slightly. It was the first time she had spoken to me since Prince Coleman called her out on her crappy behavior. The King himself looked at me with extra interest as well.

               Oh great. What had I started?

               "Yep," I said. "Really." Hopefully that would put an end to it.

"So you two met in America? Before you became a servant here?" Grandma deCourcy asked.

Prince Coleman sat rigidly, his eyes focused on the wall behind his sister.

"Yes," I answered.

"Then I assume your employment here was no accident?" Granny said.

I wasn't sure what to say.

"I met Cassie when I travelled to America early last month. I stopped by her family's souvenir shop to pick up something for Calista before flying home that afternoon. The next day, I saw Cassie sitting outside in Weathercross looking quite distressed, so I had my butler offer her a job," Prince Coleman answered.

"So you personally employed Miss Carmichael?" The question didn't come from Coleman's crackpot Grandma. The question was asked by King Collin.

Prince Coleman looked nervous as he turned his head towards his father. "Yes," he said. "Her, um, her customer service left quite an impression on me."

"Indeed?" Now it was Duarte who chimed in.

Please let this end here. I thought.

"And what about Miss Carmichael and her customer service endeared you so much that you recognized her the next day and hired her to serve at the castle?" Duarte asked him with bright eyes.

STFU, Duarte.

Prince Coleman turned to look at me, his green eyes screaming what am I supposed to say?

I don't know! I yelled back with my eyes. 

I mean, really, how was he supposed to explain why he hired me in front of his whole family including his horrid Grandmother?

"Well, it's been so long now that I really can't remember," Prince Coleman finally said.

"Truly?" Now it was Princess Calista's turn. "It hasn't been that long, Coleman. Have you truly forgotten why you hired her?"

"Yes," he snapped at his sister.

Fortunately, the subject finally changed. After some small talk and answering a few trivial questions thrown at me, the awkward dinner was finally over.

"Miss Carmichael," Coleman addressed me just as everyone was standing. He never called me Miss Carmichael usually.

"Um, yes Prince Coleman?" I said.

"Might I escort you to your room for the night?" Prince Coleman held out his hand and looked me into my eyes. I felt myself blushing at the gesture; it seemed like something out of a movie—the handsome prince extending his hand.

I didn't say anything for a second, taken aback as I was. "Yes," I finally said, and I gingerly placed my hand in his. He then switched from holding hands to placing my arm in the crook of his elbow. Servants opened the dining hall doors for us, and we exited out into the hall.

"It's my Princely duty to escort the Queen Maiden around every year," Prince Coleman explained as we walked. "At least, that is until she chooses her Prince for the day at the luncheon. It then becomes his job." 

"I see," I started. "Well, I thank you then, Prince Coleman." I looked up at him, and he was smiling. "So, do you normally get picked to be the Prince for the day?"

He smiled wryly. "Yes."

I suddenly had the urge to hug his muscular arm closer to me and rest my head on his shoulder.

Gah! I thought. What was wrong with me today?

"Here we are," Prince Coleman announced after we walked in mostly silence for a bit. He dropped my arm—to which I felt a surprising jolt of disappointment—and opened the door for me. I just looked at him for a moment—all of these gentlemanly gestures of his were so foreign to me.

               "What?" He asked with a laugh. "Aren't you going to go through?"

"Oh, sorry!" I chirped as I scurried through. His laughter that followed me was rich and warm.

"Well, here is the room," he told me, opening his arm wide to gesture towards the area, illuminated by a lamp by the bed. The place was gorgeous. Of course, most of the rooms beside the servants quarters were furnished beautifully, but it did seem all the more sweet now that it was mine. I rushed up to the fluffy bed, jumped up and fell back into it.

"Oh, it's so soft and luxurious. It's just as nice as your bed," I sighed. Prince Coleman walked over to me and crouched by the side of the bed, and I turned him head to the right to look at him.

"Why? I don't believe I've ever had you in my bed," he said, smiling slightly.

"You want to know the truth?" I asked him.

"Yes."

"One day when I was making your bed, I climbed into it to see how nice it was," I told him. His eyebrows rose.

"It only happened once!" I protested. "Maybe twice," I mumbled. "But I changed the sheets afterwards!"

He snorted. "You're so silly."

I sat up, swung my legs around off the side of the bed, and looked down at him. "I am not!" I protested. "You would do it too if you were just a commoner like me."

He said nothing in reply, but just looked at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Do you remember what you said when we first met?" he asked me.