Chapter 1

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The salty sea air stung her eyes she stepped out of the car and onto the pavement.

“I will be back in half an hour, Miss Charles.”

Nodding dismissively, she slung an empty bag into the crook of her arm. “I’ll be at the bakery.” The chauffeur drove off without another word, shutting the door after her.

Grinning broadly, Ingrid turned to face the docks. Fishermen were hauling in their loads in large, wriggling black nets. The air smelled thickly of salt and fish with the slightest hint of pastries from the nearby bakery. The sea breeze was mild today but occasionally swept and tangled itself into her long brown strands of hair.

Ingrid fished out a shopping list from her dress pocket, eyeing the items carefully. “Salmon, snapper, bread, eggs . . . let’s add cake.” A slight tingle fluttered across her fingertips and tousled the piece of paper. At the bottom of the list, ink scrawled across the blank line without a pen: CAKE. She grinned and scurried off to the nearest fisherman’s stall.

“I’ll take half a kilo of salmon and double that of snapper please.” Ingrid smiled brightly at the bearded man. He let out a grunt, weighing the fish on a scale then wrapping it in newspaper for her.

“Seven silver pieces, three copper.”

Ingrid handed him the set amount and stuffed the fish to the bottom of her bag. She could hear it squelch in the folds of paper. “Thank you.”

The man gave another grunt and turned away, scouting for other customers. She didn’t let his attitude dampen her mood. After all, she rarely got out into town. The very prospect made her being there all the more worthwhile! Ingrid loved her parents dearly but sometimes it was almost suffocating, having her confined to the manor for most of her life. Didn’t they see that she could take care of herself?

Ingrid sighed and walked towards the town square. She smiled at the townspeople strolling about and inhaled the nearby scents of cafes which ignited a slight rumble at the pit of her belly. Oh, Ingrid would never grow tired of the place; she wished she could live in such a cosy location all the time, not on the vacant plot of land her parents owned. It was much too lonely, even with the staff about.

She shook her head. There was no need to dwell on such thoughts. She was here now, wasn’t she?

A sudden stir of noise erupted across the square, dragging her from her thoughts. Ingrid blinked in surprise. A crowd had gathered across the courtyard, yelling and crying out in horror. It took a moment to realise they were all pointing at something, focused on whatever it was. Part of the attention was directed to a man fighting his way through the mob and there was no doubt why; he stuck out like a sore thumb.

The royal crest embroidered on his left breast in gold thread was like a tiny beacon, surrounded by a background of rich red fabric that coated the rest of his body. Despite the impassive expression on his face, his eyes appeared tired and desperate. Perhaps he had gone through this before.

“Take it back!” someone near Ingrid yelled, causing her to jump in surprise.

“Tell the King we said no!”

The uniformed man ignored all the cries and protests. He adjusted himself and his wrinkled slacks before marching off towards an awaiting blue car. Its engine puffed out small clouds of smoke from the rear pipe.

“Sir!” Ingrid called out before she could help herself. She started jogging off towards the man. “Sir!”

It was when she got to see him up close did she find that he wasn’t a man but rather a boy – merely several years older than herself. The fatigue lining his features made him appear much older but Ingrid could still trace hints of youth along his unblemished skin.

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