Sudden inspiration struck me. “Gordon, would you like to leave the kitchens for a while and come to work for me?”
Like Tara, you mean? I don’t think I’d make a very good lady’s maid…
It was hard not to laugh at his doubtful tone, but I managed it. “No, I was thinking you could be my page boy.”
Does a page boy have to scrub pots?
“Not a single one.”
Well, in that case I suppose I could give it a try. Do you have your own horse? I could look after her for you.
He sounded so eager that I didn’t have the heart to tell him that a page boy’s usual roles didn’t include horse care. “I do, indeed. Her name is Chestnut. But, for now, I was thinking that you could be my guide around the castle. If you grew up here, you must know it very well.”
Oh, I’m the best. I have to be—to keep finding new hiding places where Gilda can’t find me. Did you know I once used the moving cupboard that takes the food between the kitchen and the dining room to hide from her for a whole day? She was watching the door of the kitchen, sure I would come back when I got hungry, but little did she know, I kept using it to sneak back in for food. He sounded extremely proud of this accomplishment.
I paused for a moment as I imagined how easy a task he would find it to hide from me. “If you’re going to be my page boy, Gordon, you must promise you won’t hide from me as you do from Gilda.”
Oh, no, I would never, he assured me. I expected to hear a comment about my royal status, but instead, he added, You’re letting me look after your horse. Chestnut, I should say.
I grinned at being put so effectively in my place–which was apparently well behind my mount. Gaining a guide who seemed to have not the least filter on his words seemed well worth any small bruising to my ego. And, in fact, Chestnut was an extraordinary horse who had borne the trip into Palinar admirably. Perhaps Gordon had the right of it.
It turned out to be difficult to direct a guide when I couldn’t risk telling him my true purpose. Not when the entirety of the staff had shown themselves determined to keep me in the dark. Gordon’s easy chatter could work against me as well as for me.
Still, at least I no longer kept finding myself back in the same room. Gordon showed me all around this more lavish wing of the castle, except for one set of rooms which he blithely informed me belonged to “the prince”.
None of us are allowed in there. Which means it would make the best hiding place, of course. His wistful tone made my lips twitch again. But I daren’t. The prince might eat me.
“Eat you! I’m sure he would not.”
No, you’re probably right. But one of the grooms told me…”
I put up my hand to stop him. I had enough terrible imaginings about my betrothed running around my head without adding to the mix ridiculous horror stories made up to tease children. “No one is going to be eaten. But I dare say it is best if you don’t attempt to hide in there regardless.”
Gordon reluctantly agreed with me, only cheering up again when he remembered that he no longer had any need to hide from scrubbing pots. We had nearly made our way back out of the Beast’s wing, when we passed a door that looked just like all the others. Oh, and there’s the gallery, of course. I suppose you’ve already seen that.
I stopped. “The gallery? You mean a portrait gallery? This door?”
I pushed it open as soon as I heard his confirmation. As much as I tried not to let them, the Beast’s eyes—so human in his otherwise terrifying form—haunted me. And I hadn’t forgotten the overheard conversation of the scullery maids, who had called him handsome as well as scary in the days before the curse. His own castle should have a portrait of him, surely.
The door unexpectedly gave way into a cavernous hall, lined with portraits on every wall. High windows poured light into the space, illuminating the heavy paint and vibrant colors. I ran my eyes down the closest portraits, but could tell from the clothes that they could not be the Beast.
“Gordon? Are you here?”
Yes, Princess Sophie. He sounded like he was already a long way down the hall.
I raised my voice slightly. “Is there a portrait here of the current royal family?”
Of course—it’s that big one. I suspected he was waving, having once again forgotten that I couldn’t see him.
I scanned the walls, hoping to spot one significantly bigger than the others. And, sure enough, I soon found a painting easily twice the size of the others around it. It hung in the middle of the room, dominating the wall.
In the center of the portrait loomed an older man. He wore the crown of Palinar on his head and his hand rested against the hilt of his sheathed sword. I fell back a step as I gazed into his motionless visage. There was a hardness and a cruelty in the lines of his face and the tilt of his eyes that scared me more even than the Beast.
I took a steadying breath.
To the king’s left sat his wife, her daughter standing behind her, posed with one hand on her mother’s shoulder. The two looked so similar as to be startling, Princess Adelaide merely a younger version of her mother. Both appeared gentle from their painted expressions, a soft light in their familiar blue eyes. I remembered that eight-year-old Princess Daisy of Trione had reported that Adelaide had always been kind to her when they had met. Unlike Prince Dominic.
Thinking his true name drew my eyes irresistibly to the other side of the portrait, no longer able to resist the pull of seeing the Beast in his old form. The painting could not have been painted long before the curse—Prince Dominic looked at least seventeen, the age he had been when the other kingdoms lost contact with Palinar.
Once again, the painter had done a masterful work, the face in front of me looking almost frighteningly lifelike. Somehow the artist had even managed to capture something of the intensity of his gaze. Prince Dominic might have inherited his eyes from his mother, but they burned in him in a way they didn’t in her.
The young prince stood slightly separate from the others and back a step. His expression looked distant and cold, but his hand on his sword hilt lacked the aggression of his father’s stance. Once again, I marveled at the nuance the painter had managed to convey.
And I had to admit the scullery maid was right. Prince Dominic had been tall and strong, his face almost too handsome for comfort. The first time I had seen the other princes of these lands was when Lily and I had arrived in Marin and been presented to the court at the opening of the Princess Tourney. Only Dominic had been missing. At the time, I had found Daisy’s older brother, Prince Teddy, cute. I even remembered using the word handsome at one point.