“Well, can’t we be just a bit less conspicuous? It would be nice to travel anonymously.”
“That would defeat the purpose,” Stefan says, suddenly appearing beside me and opening the door to the carriage. “After you, my lady.” He holds out his hand and grins at a giggling Ruby.
“What exactly are you talking about?” I ask.
“The queen has decided that the people should get a better glimpse of their future queen. And”—he grimaces—“as I have only recently been reminded that it is my duty to protect you—till death do us part—I cannot abide anything less than overseeing double the amount of guards.”
“So just to be clear . . . this means you’re coming with us?” I ask. “Because you really, really don’t have to.”
“This is your own doing,” he says tightly. “I have just spent the better part of the morning being thoroughly scolded by my mother. Did you really have to compare me to a neglectful jailor?”
His face is flushed with indignation and I almost succeed at holding back the laughter building in my throat.
“Stop being so stuffy, Stefan.” Ruby sticks her head out the window. “You’re ruining a perfectly good adventure.”
After he has helped Leandra into the carriage, Stefan sighs and lowers his voice, “My sisters have both grown quite fond of you. Whatever you think of me, please, do not hurt them. Can we put aside our differences, just for today?”
I nod, and Stefan offers me his hand and we step into the carriage. When we are all settled inside, the driver urges the horses onward. The guards fan out and walk silently on either side of the carriage.
“How was your breakfast this morning?” Leandra asks me.
“It was eye-opening,” I say, shooting Stefan a dark look and wishing I had also thought to mention our breakfast arrangements to Genevieve.
“I live to make you happy,” he says, flashing a grin.
The carriage rattles over the cobblestone streets. The sky is overcast and smoke curls from several chimneys. When we pass a group of boys playing in the streets, they catch sight of us and one of them shouts. “Look, there she is! It’s the Masked Princess!”
“So many new buildings,” I murmur after we pass several construction sites.
“Yes,” Stefan answers. “It is part of a building push. Each day more travelers enter Korynth, and many of them find the sea air agrees with them. We are working to accommodate.”
I nod. “It’s a remarkable city.”
Stefan smiles, but quickly stiffens. “I suppose you prefer ancient cities with opal-flecked streets and gray stone buildings, with statues and plaques dedicated to the heroes who came before you?”
I should search my mind for something demure and Wilha-like to say. But in Stefan’s liquid brown eyes, there’s a spark of interest I haven’t seen since our night in the kitchen. “Oh, I don’t know,” I say. “What if I prefer a newer city, where I might one day have a plaque dedicated to me?”
“Really?” A smile plays about Stefan’s lips. “And what might that plaque say?”
“Look!” Ruby points to a crowd that has begun lining the streets. Several men and women call out their greetings. A few throw herbs and wildflowers and beg for a glimpse of the Masked Princess.
The carriage slows and comes to a stop. A guard’s face appears at the window and says, “Your Highness?”
“Yes, Bogdon?” Stefan answers.
“We’ve been given a gift.” He holds up a loaf of bread. “It came from a bakery nearby.”
“It smells wonderful,” Ruby says, reaching her hands out. “Can I have it?”
“You know what Grandmother says,” Leandra admonishes. “You never eat anything that has not been tasted first.”
“Shall we visit the bakery?” I ask Stefan.
“Why would we do that?” He frowns.
I roll my eyes. “So you can thank your subject for the nice gift. Or are you only capable of mustering up gratitude toward rich Kyrenican nobles?”
“That is not at all what I meant,” Stefan replies, looking offended. “I only meant that it is difficult for the guards when—Oh, all right. Have it your way. Bogdon, please tell the guards we wish to visit the bakery.”
The guards form a line that pushes the crowd backward, and several onlookers call out to us. I reach to open the carriage door, but Stefan grabs my hand.
“We do not exit the carriage until the guards signal that it is safe to do so. Surely it is the same in Galandria?” A strange expression crosses his face, and his hand tightens protectively on mine. “If something were to happen to you”—he says and then glances at Ruby and Leandra, who both stare at us with rapt expressions—“then . . . our kingdoms would most probably go to war,” he finishes lamely.
“Of course.” I snatch my hand away from his. “We can’t have that, can we?” I stare out the window, my heart thudding in my chest.
Bogdon signals to Stefan that it’s safe for us to exit. Ruby scampers out of the carriage, followed by Leandra, and then Stefan, who turns and extends his hand.
“My Lady?” he says with exaggerated politeness.
“I don’t need your help,” I say, moving past him. “I doubt our kingdoms will go to war if you don’t assist me.”
From behind I hear him exhale loudly. “You are the strangest princess I have ever met.”
Bogdon directs us to a small bakery. Inside are baskets filled with fresh-baked bread smelling of herbs. Behind a counter, an elderly man kneads a mound of dough over a flour-coated countertop.
“Be with you in a minute,” he calls. A second later he looks up and his eyes widen.
“Your Highnesses.” He comes out from around the counter and sinks to one knee. “I am honored you would come to my humble shop.”
“We have come to thank you for your gift,” Stefan answers. “My bride-to-be declares it the best bread she has ever tasted.”
I glance warily over at Stefan, who shrugs and grins.
“Indeed,” I add, “your loaf of bread is the first sincere gift I’ve received since arriving in Kyrenica.” I make a point of running my hand over the bracelet Stefan gave me.
“Oh, Princess, please don’t joke with an old man.” The baker’s head is lowered, so he doesn’t see Stefan flush.
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to bake bread,” Ruby says to me and Stefan. “But Cook won’t let me near the kitchen.”
The baker hears, and with a delighted smile offers to give us a lesson. He stands and gestures to the back of the shop. Before I can join the others, Bogdon enters and addresses me. “Excuse me, Princess, but we have just received another gift. This one is specifically for you.”
“Really, what is it?”
“An embroidered handkerchief and a book. The girl who gave it to me said it was for the Masked Princess.” He holds up a thick brown leather volume, and my heart begins to pound. “It appears to be an old history book about Eleanor Andewyn,” he says. “She said she was staying at the Sleeping Dragon, the inn next door, if you wished to speak to her.”
CHAPTER 46
WILHA
The inn is mostly deserted except for James who walked back with me. Everyone, including Victor, has gone outside to gawk at the royal family.
“I don’t understand why we had to drop everything just because some barbaric princess has finally decided to come down from her balcony and grace us with her presence,” he says.
Upon seeing the hurt expression in his eyes, I ignore the slur and reach out a hand. “I was having a good time, James, I only—”
The door opens, and two guards stride in. Outside the window, several other guards have formed a line in front of the inn, preventing anyone from entering. Victor is shaking hands with one of the guards, and I remember that he used to be a soldier.