"Lucy, that was the last time. You cannot skip any more lessons or just wander about with no duties." If you can imagine, this is pushover dad speaking.

"So what— you want me to fill my time with busy work just so it looks like I am fulfilling my royal obligations or something? Oh, I see, you want me to be like you."

"Lucy, enough," he starts. "This is not up for negotiation. You can start tomorrow night, by accompanying your mother and I to dinner with King Rufus."

Ew. "Rufus of Wettlesworth or whatever? He's disgusting," I complain.

"It's 'Wittlewarts', dear."

"Even worse."

"Tomorrow at 6. Be there or I will start adding more courses to your schedule," father threatens. Good idea, dad. Give me more classes to skip.

"Okay, okay," I concede, throwing my hands in the air as I stomp out the room.

Suddenly struck hungry by the exertion put forth in arguing with my parents, I continue my stomping all the way down to the kitchens. While most royals prefer to ring a bell or send some poor servant to do their bidding, I prefer to be as self-sufficient as possible. I mean, I'm still required to have servants, which I think is utterly ridiculous and is actually preparing me for a life of helplessness, but I usually only call them when I'm bored and want to play cards with somebody.

I forgot it's almost dinner hour, so the chefs are bustling about the kitchen. Carefully guiding my way through the tables and shelves, I snatch an apple and head back out. Some cooks see me and dutifully bow, and some others, luckily, are too busy to notice. Right as I reach the doorway, I hear a clatter behind me. I turn to see the new boy— the one with which I collided in the hallway earlier— stooping to the ground, having lost balance with a tray of appetizers.

"Looks like we're both pretty clumsy, huh?" I say, bending down to help. Upon recognizing me, his face brightened and he slowed down his process of restocking the plates.

"Oh! Hey. I guess so. I'm not much of a cook or waiter, but. . . what are you doing here? You work down here, too?" he asks hopefully.

"Um. . . No. Just stopping by. You didn't sign up to work in Kitchens?" I ask.

"Actually, I was hoping to be stationed as guard or something. I really want to be on the Strategic Council, but I've heard that takes years of working in the castle." We place the last plates back on the tray, and together we carefully lift the tray back onto the table.

"Eh, I bet you'll get there soon enough. Well, I better head back, but—" I started moving towards the door when he gently grabbed my arm to pull me back.

"Wait — I was going to ask you— maybe you would want to have dinner sometime? I know I'm new to the castle and all, so maybe you could show me around. . . If not, that is totally fine, too. I don't really know much about how it works and—"

"That would be great," I interrupted. And despite myself, a small smile spread across my face. I was glad to see it mirrored on his.

His eyes widened suddenly, and he gasped, "Oh! I didn't even get your name earlier today. I'm Griffin. From Farris Village." My name? Well. That sends me into panic mode real quick.

"Oh. . . Um. . . I actually totally definitely forgot I am supposed to be somewhere right now! I'm so sorry! I will see you for dinner sometime soon, okay? Bye, Griffin!" And with that, I scooped up my apple and ran as fast as I could up the stairs to my bedroom, plopping myself on my mattress with a sigh.

Griffin. He doesn't know my name, which is unfortunate, but I think he would be a little freaked out if I told him. While obviously, given my current plight, not everyone knows my face, they know the name Lucy Halton. But Lucy Halton is starting to see a little hope on her horizon.

I know I've literally met him twice, so maybe I'm being dramatic, but when I'm around him I feel so. . . normal. He doesn't treat me like a helpless royal, or a snobby aristocrat, but like a human being. It's refreshing.

I decide that my apple is enough dinner for me, and I tuck myself in for the night. As I fall asleep, I mentally quiz myself on the names and interests of the guests arriving tomorrow. Father would be so proud.

King Rufus: likes to talk about golf and the mosquito epidemic.

Queen Dreeka (yeah I don't know who came up with that one, but she must have been a disturbed mother): thick foreign accent. Best course of action is to smile and nod.

Lady Ralley: my age, no nonsense type of girl. super boring. Avoid contact, if at all possible.

Jack: a few years younger than me. Personal choice: Royal title temporarily revoked until he quits calling me Lucie-Tootsie. Also, avoid contact.

In general, if possible, avoid contact with the royals of Wettlesworth.

Ah.

Wittlewarts.