The Secret of the Seven Princesses

Secrets Chapter 13

This was getting to be a pattern. Gone were the old days of dining room pandemonium, of flying food and broken dishes. Gone, even, were the days of secretive silences and hushed whispers between the princesses. Now, the royal family spent every meal in tense silence, the air heavy with Gustave's enraged disapproval and the princesses' feigned guilt. It had become so uncomfortable, in fact, that Callia had even come to wish for the temporary reprieve offered when a new prince or contestant joined them for a nightly attempt at solving the mystery.

On days when the castle didn't play host to an outside guest, other inhabitants of the castle had been joining them more frequently at the dinner table in a controversial break from the family dinner tradition. Callia suspected that Gustave was attempting to avoid talking to his daughters by any means necessary, and she even wondered whether he was pettily invoking a silent treatment to punish his daughters in any way he could.

The king had invited Sir Bionne a few times to discuss matters of state, but the steward usually tried to avoid invading on their personal time. It was a pity; he would have been a welcome addition in Callia's opinion, and she knew that Eralie would have jumped at the chance to spend more time with him. The princesses had been much less pleased, however, when Sir Luka began to make a regular appearance.

As far as Callia was concerned, another prince would be a welcome alternative to dinner with Sir Luka. Mealtimes still remained just as tense as ever, only in a different way.

Tonight, for instance, their entrance into the dining room resembled nothing so much as a game of musical chairs: Callia took her customary seat on the left side of the table, only to jump up an instant later, panicked, when Luka attempted to sit beside her. Heedless of the rudeness of her actions, Callia dashed to the other side of the table to settle in Petra's usual seat. She had no sooner sat down, however, when Luka's presence alerted her to the need to move yet again. She darted around, groping for a seat far from him. Eralie, Raia, and Thaleia hung around uncertainly, unwilling to take a seat until the arrangement had been determined. Eurielle, who had already been forced to give up her seat to Callia once, had now reclaimed it, holding onto the wood beneath her so tightly that not even an earthquake could dislodge her.

The cat-and-mouse game went on for several minutes until Callia finally settled into the seat to the right of Eurielle, forcing Petra into the seat on her other side. Luka, defeated, had to be content with sitting across from his prize and attempting to woo her with his gaze. The remaining princesses adjusted their seating arrangements accordingly and the entire party settled into the now-typical tension, punctuated only by the sounds of silverware and chewing.

Sir Luka had by this time experienced enough family dinners to realize that his conversation was neither required nor appreciated by most of the diners. Callia studiously avoided looking across the table at him, instead focusing intently on mixing the butter into her mashed potatoes as if her life depended on it. It was for this reason, therefore, that she startled when he suddenly broke the silence; she had been so focused on pretending that he wasn't there, that she'd nearly convinced herself of the fact.

"Your Highness, if I may be so bold as to speak?" Luka requested, placing his fork and knife alongside his plate and turning to face the sovereign. King Gustave motioned for him to continue, still toying with his own dinner.

"Sir, I would like to formally declare my intention to enter the prince competition."

He had now successfully garnered the king's attention, as well as that of the ladies themselves. Gustave's fork stopped halfway to his mouth, the bite of food forgotten in the wake of Luka's shocking announcement. Cliodne dropped her spoon with a loud thunk, Raia gasped, and Thaleia choked slightly. Eurielle clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from spraying juice across the table—on second thought, Callia wished that she'd let it happen, as Luka was directly in the line of fire. Petra, as always, showed little emotion other than a slight quirk of her eyebrows, but Callia suspected that Eralie was so deep in her own thoughts that she hadn't heard a word that Sir Luka said. As for Callia herself, she felt herself gaping, open-mouthed, at Luka. He turned toward her, smirking suggestively, and she quickly averted her eyes to a point just over his left shoulder, rearranging her face into a deadpan expression.