Chapter Four

Char and I made our way back to the castle, enjoying the garden as we went. Along the way, he would tell me stories about each garden, and each plant, and he was filled with facts about the flowers and the history behind every statue. It became much more than anyone could wish to hear, but he was so sweet and I loved listening to his voice, with his hand gestures for emphasis, that I just smiled and nodded. He must have caught on when that was my only response, as he asked, "You don't care, do you?"

"Well," I replied, hugging his arm closer, "it is fascinating, but when you start listing Queen Dorothia XXI's plans for a hybrid purple-polka-dotted-with-a-splash-of-orange hyacinths that never made it to realization," — I drew in a deep breath —"it is a little much."

He laughed at my exaggeration. "I could not have been as bad as that!"

A teasing smile was my only answer.

We round our way back to the castle through the grounds. As we came into view of the back terrace, a boy ran out to us. His breathing was heavy, but he looked relieved as he bowed. "Your highness, your presence has been requested in the Queen's drawing room." Char looked at me, but the servant added, "Your presence alone."

Char sighed. "Thank you. You may let my mother know that I will be there shortly." As the boy quickly headed back to the castle, Char turned to me. "I see it's already starting," he said. A quick pang of worry hit me, though I didn't know why. However, his smile relieved any anxieties. "I'm sure it's nothing."

He gave my hand a quick kiss before disappearing up the steps and into the large entrance, leaving me alone to wander. I decided to go back into the castle, following Char's example.

As I started to wander through the great halls, I was hit with the realization of where I was. I hadn't noticed much in the flurry of the past day or so. Even this morning, I was so eager to catch a glimpse of Char that I rushed down the large staircase without taking its notice. Everything was large and grand. Every tapestry, every moulding, every archway, declared that this was the home of royalty. It wasn't tacky, like Mum Olga's decorations back in Frell which overwhelmed the house with its abundance of faux gold and jewels. This was regal, and elegant, carrying a deep history of Kyrria. Portraits of past rulers covered one wall, and plush seats offered rest. These rooms were built centuries ago, but the furnishings made it a welcoming home.

I stopped to look at a wall hung with portraits. I recognized a few of the faces, but there were many whose name escaped me. Some looked stern, brows furrowed, and others had soft, caring eyes which inspired confidence. Near the far side, I found a portrait of Char, who fit the latter description. The likeness was taken a few years before — he looked to be sixteen years old, maybe seventeen. I traced his face with my finger, the same face that gave me the only comfort — however small — the day of my mother's funeral. Freckles dusted his dark face and I thought I could see a trace of a smile on his serious expression.

I moved to the picture beside it. It was a young girl who I took to be Char's sister. She looked very much like him, but with a fairer complexion. Her soft curls hung down and her blue eyes smiled with her lips. I hoped I would be able to meet her soon.

I was beginning to feel lonely after spending so much time without the presence of a single person. I wandered some more, though I couldn't tell where I was going, as I heard voices growing louder. I followed the voices and the noise down a smaller passageway which led to a large room. It must have been the kitchen, with all its bustle and delicious aromas hung thick in the air.

I wanted to see more, so I took a few more paces to where a girl was stirring a large pot. I peeked over her shoulder to see what it was — mushroom soup! My stomach gurgled and I then regretted skipping breakfast. How I would love a small cup of some hot soup!

"Excuse me," I said, tapping the girl on the shoulder, "That smells won—"

The girl turned around and whacked me with ladle before I could say any more. "Oh, miss!" she cried as I stepped back in a slow response. "I'm so sorry! Let me help you. But whatever are you doing here? You shouldn't be anyway near the servants' quarters..."

I laughed at the treatment that I was getting. Me? Above being a servant? Dame Olga might have something else to say about that.

I tried to explain that I was used to being in the kitchen, but nothing I said mattered. As quickly as she could, the girl dabbed off my sleeve and sent me back through the door through which I had entered.

"Hmph!" I groaned. This was turning into quite the morning. "Now what?" I said to myself.

I decided to trace my steps back to where I had started, bringing me to the base of the immense staircase. The mahogany railing gleamed in the sunlight, beckoning me without any chance of my refusing. I glanced to the right and left, checking that no one was coming. After racing up to the top as quickly as I could — which required much more effort than any other staircase I had climbed — I lifted my leg over the railing and positioned myself at the top.

Taking a deep breath I let myself fly down, down, down...