The Golden Princess (#4 in the GOLDEN series) ✔

•T W E N T Y - F I V E•

Or had he done something to the surrounding air? Was there a poison—other than influenza—that spread by coughing, by breathing? And how to inquire about it without arousing suspicion?

She scoffed. "Romain would not believe me. And Mother... I doubt she would, either."

Her only solution was to ask her ladies. Sarah, with her vast knowledge of the castle, might obtain information, speak with cooks, kitchen staff, perhaps Cornelius' crew. But could Sarah be trusted?

The door opened, and as if magically summoned, the woman in question arrived. "Highness?"

Prudence sank into her half-huddled position. "Sarah?"

The maiden shuffled closer, then stopped at the foot of the bed. "They lied to me! You lied to me." She stomped. "You are not well yet! Why did you dismiss the ladies? They only wish to help!"

"Their help was poisonous," said Prudence, rolling her eyes. She bit her lip. "And speaking of poison... I fear the reason I am so ill is that something might have been put in my food. I have never been so incapacitated before, and I worry."

Sarah hurried to Prudence's side and kneeled by the mattress. "Absolutely not! Your meals receive the same treatment as the King's! Checked, tasted, tested—the works!" Her face drained of color, turning as pale as the bed-spread. "Not a soul in this castle would dare!"

Prudence had learned many years ago to distrust everyone. "How can you be certain?" Something twinged in her pelvis, and she cringed. "Were you there? Did you supervise the chefs?" Sarah dropped her chin and shook her head. "Exactly. You cannot know. It would not surprise me. Surely some nobles here have access to the kitchens, and have a private stash of poisons—"

Sarah tilted back up, fire in her eyes, her lips curled downwards. "I guarantee, Your Highness, that no one touched your food or drink. We check anything that is to be in contact with your mouth. His Majesty was clear on that—any suspicious activity is to be reported to him. He feared this, too, but has done all in his power to prevent it." She readjusted herself and made for the vanity.

Prudence flinched, praying her unfinished note to Céleste remained concealed beneath a book. Luckily, Sarah snatched the bench and dragged it to the edge of the bed. She perched atop it and crossed one leg over the other.

"He worried the nobles might doubt your identity, or might conspire, but so far, all have accepted you. As you will see at the ball, in a few days."

The ball.

Prudence refrained from gagging. "If I am alive to attend it."

Sarah smacked a hand over her mouth and inclined her head. "You will not perish on my watch. Anyone wishing to harm you will deal with me, first! My role is to protect you, serve you, ensure your needs are met." She jumped up from the chair so fast it nearly toppled backwards. "Do you require anything now? Water? Tea? Wine? A snack? I can—"

"—Sarah!" Prudence's voice came out loud as a trumpet, but strained, as if she were choking. Yet it had the intended effect—it halted Sarah's flailing about. "I need rest and isolation. And information. Someone to notify my brother of my concerns and of my condition. And watch him. Especially those around him." As her anxiety grew, her belly gurgled, begging to spill out its contents. "And... my fiancé, too. I have a bad feeling about him."

"Of course, Highness." Sarah lowered into a curtsy. "But your betrothed... he left."

"Left?" Prudence's throat constricted.

It is as I thought; he is en route to Romain's bride, and likely to Totresia.

"When he gets back, monitor him." She snapped at Sarah. "Now leave me, so that I might recover."