The gentle clinking of cutlery against fine china was a distant, soothing sound that lulled Viviana deeper into the soft darkness. A persistent nudge, however, began to disturb her peace.
"Vi... Psst, Vi! Wake up!" a familiar voice whispered urgently.
Viviana groaned, her head feeling heavy as she reluctantly surfaced from the depths of sleep. She blinked, her vision blurry for a moment. Someone was definitely shaking her shoulder. She managed to lift her head, which had apparently been resting on her folded arms on a smooth, cool surface – a dining table. Her eyes focused on Princess Lilliana, who was sitting right beside her, an impish grin playing on her lips. Lilliana flicked her eyes pointedly towards the head of the table.
Viviana followed the princess's gaze, and her blood ran cold. King Roland and Queen Della were staring directly at her, their breakfast seemingly forgotten. The King held a silver fork mid-air, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern. The Queen's brow was furrowed delicately, her gentle brown eyes filled with worry. Viviana straightened up abruptly, her cheeks flushing a mortified reddish color. She had fallen asleep. At the royal breakfast table. In front of the King and Queen.
"Viviana, dear, are you quite alright?" Queen Della asked, her voice soft and kind, though laced with undeniable concern. "You look rather pale."
"Yes," King Roland chimed in, placing his fork down with a soft clink. "You have been sleeping a great deal more than usual lately, child. Everything in order? No late nights study again, I hope?" He winked, but the underlying worry was still present.
Before Viviana could stammer out an excuse – because what could she possibly say? 'Apologies, Your Majesties, I was up late assassinating one of your subjects and didn't get my eight hours sleep' – the Queen spoke again.
"Lady Annelise, your tutor, also expressed some worry during our chat yesterday," Queen Della continued, her gaze searching Viviana's face. "She mentioned you seemed distracted, perhaps a little fatigued. She suggested we might call for Doctor Giles, just to ensure there's no underlying ailment causing this weariness."
"You are certainly right, my love," the King agreed, nodding thoughtfully. "A sensible precaution. We wouldn't want you falling ill, Viviana."
Lilliana, meanwhile, had apparently tuned out her parents' discussion about the situation. She leaned towards Viviana, her bright brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "Soooo," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the distant clatter of kitchen preparations, "you went out to see a man last night, didn't you? Was he handsome?"
Viviana's eyes widened in horror. Her hand shot out with speed and clamped firmly over Lilliana's mouth, muffling the next word that was about to escape.
"Lily!!!" Viviana hissed, her own whisper fierce. She darted a panicked glance towards the King and Queen. Thankfully, they were now engrossed in a quiet debate about the best time to summon the royal physician, their heads close together.
Lilliana pried Viviana's hand away, giggling silently. "What? I'm just curious!" she mouthed, her expression one of pure, unadulterated innocence that Viviana knew was entirely fake.
The princess then ducked her head low, bringing her lips right next to Viviana's ear. "You totally snuck out to a masquerade ball, didn't you?" she breathed, her warm breath tickling Viviana's earlobe. "I saw the corner of your black satin mask smoldering in the library fireplace this morning when I went to fetch 'The Adventures of Sir Reginald the Bold.' Honestly, Vi, you need to be much better at discarding your things. Very sloppy. What if Mother had seen it instead of me? We'd both be sitting ducks!" To emphasize her point, Lilliana drew a finger dramatically across her throat, stuck out her tongue, and closing her eyes, mimicking a demise.
Despite the precariousness of her situation, an undignified snort of laughter escaped Viviana. She clapped a hand over her own mouth this time, but it was too late.
The King and Queen paused their conversation, both turning to look at the girls. "Viviana? Is something amusing, dear?" King Roland asked, one eyebrow raised in gentle inquiry.
Viviana's face burned anew. "Oh! Your Majesties, please forgive my unruly behavior," she stammered, avoiding their gaze. "A sudden… ahem… tickle in my throat. Most unbecoming. My sincerest apologies."
Queen Della smiled kindly. "Quite alright, child. No harm done. As long as you're feeling well enough to laugh."
Lilliana, ever the opportunist, seized the moment to change the subject entirely. "Father! Mother!" she chirped brightly, her earlier mischief replaced by enthusiasm. "Speaking of feeling well, Vi and I simply must go into town today! Madame Dubois, the modiste, you know, the French one with the exquisite taste? She's received a brand new collection of gowns all the way from Parisine, and we heard they are utterly, utterly divine! We absolutely must procure some before all the best ones are snatched up by Lady Penelope and her dreadful sisters!" She clasped her hands together dramatically, her eyes wide with longing.
King Roland chuckled, the lines of concern on his face softening. "Very well, very well. A trip to the modiste it is. Finish your breakfast first, both of you. And you are to take Captain Albert and a pair of guards with you. The streets can be… rather bustling, and I'll not have you wandering unescorted."
"Oh, thank you, Father! You're the best!" Lilliana exclaimed, beaming. She practically bounced in her seat.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Viviana added, offering a grateful, and relieved, smile. The prospect of escaping the castle, even under guard, was what she needed, she needed to know if her handler has new job for her.
They quickly finished the remnants of their breakfast – fruit, warm bread, and sweet honeyed milk for Lilliana, a stronger tea for Viviana. The conversation shifted to lighter topics and after an hour, they finished their breakfast and excused themselves.
A few moments later, as King Roland was perusing a report from his chancellor and Queen Della was delicately sipping her tea, the heavy oak doors to the dining hall opened. A royal messenger, clad in the King's uniform of deep blue and silver, entered with measured steps. He carried a polished silver tray, upon which rested a single, opulent-looking scroll made of thick, gold-coloured parchment. It was sealed with a prominent, unfamiliar crimson wax crest.
"Your Majesties," the messenger announced, bowing low. "An urgent letter. It has arrived by special courier from the Kingdom of Eldoria."
King Roland looked up. The previously relaxed, fatherly expression on his face vanished in an instant. His brow furrowed deeply, his mouth setting into a grim, hard line. A flicker of something unreadable – apprehension, perhaps, or a deep-seated seriousness – entered his eyes as he reached for the golden scroll.
Queen Della, noticing the abrupt change in her husband's demeanor, set down her teacup, her own expression becoming apprehensive as she watched him take the letter. The light, airy atmosphere of the morning breakfast seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sudden, palpable tension.