Janelle
I shouldn't be here. Night servants aren't supposed to attend grand feasts, but Cook Martha fell ill, and they needed extra hands to serve the nobles. Mrs. Crawford reluctantly pulled me from my shadowy exile for this one evening.
The great hall buzzes with conversation and laughter. King Magnus holds court at the head table, resplendent in deep blue velvet. Princess Sophia sits beside Adrian, looking radiant in cloth-of-gold that makes her hair shine like spun sunlight. And Adrian...
I try not to look at him, but my eyes betray me. He's dressed in black again, his dark hair perfectly styled, his face an emotionless mask as he listens to whatever Sophia is whispering in his ear. They look perfect together, the golden princess and the brooding prince, like figures from a fairy tale.
"Janelle."
