IX

We sat at the royal table, Rapunzel's hand in mine as she beat time with her little fist, drumming the two of our hands against the table as a percussive accompaniment to the symphony of strings and the click of heels against the stone floor while nine ladies—court ladies, no less—danced for our amusement. Or I should say, my amusement. It was the Princess' gift to me after all, so I didn't see why I couldn't fully enjoy the dancing. It was pretty tame, refined stuff—no one was kicking off their shoes and doing a shimmy, if you get my drift—but the idea of the ladies at court prancing about for my benefit was enough to plaster a pretty satisfied smirk on my face.

The strings were loud enough that I felt fairly secure in leaning in towards the King to remark, "The gifts have gotten markedly better."

The King tossed one quick glance to his side, no doubt to see if the Queen was paying close attention to his response, before smiling with raised brows in such a way that I knew he appreciated the turn the presents had taken as well.

"Although," I said with a shrug, "I don't think I can keep these."

The King snorted and coughed on his milk, drawing the Queen's notice so that she patted his back while wearing a little worried frown that dragged down the corners of her mouth. "Are you all right, darling?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, my dear," he said, waving her off good-naturedly with a smile. "Just went down the wrong pipe, I'm afraid."

"Do be careful," she said, and, apparently satisfied that her husband was in no real distress, addressed the performers once more.

The King turned back to me, tipping his cup in my direction with a grimace. "But I wouldn't mind a different vintage."

Yes, we were all drinking milk. There was a lot of milk that needed drinking, the Queen had said cheerfully enough as our cups were filled to the brim. Not just a lot of milk, but an ever increasing stock of eggs, too. Very wholesome, but the King's cellar stores were normally one of my favorite things about dinners like this. Probably the King's as well.

"What do you imagine tomorrow will bring?" I reflected aloud, as one dance came to an end and another promptly began. Surely they couldn't keep this up for much longer. There would be some feet in need of soaking before this night was over, and that made me think of Rapunzel's tiny feet and how ticklish they were under the ministration of my hands. The way they kicked and thrashed and how she squealed…

"I couldn't exactly say," the King said, bringing me back to the present.

"Oh, of course: you couldn't wager a guess, because you know." It seemed slightly unfair that everyone closest to me knew what was going on except for me. When ten laundresses turned up tomorrow, I would be the only one who'd be surprised, and if they were as comely as the milkmaids, things could get awkward with all the splashing water and soapy suds. It was fine to joke about the quality of these latest gifts, but it wouldn't be wise to actually appear to enjoy them too much.

"What I can say, however, is that I wouldn't worry too much about it," he said knowingly.

"Worry? Me?" I scoffed. And get those worry lines? I managed not to say out loud.

I except, I was worried. More than I cared to admit. And, I felt like the King and I were on good terms, despite the lack of spirits tonight, and we were having a moment, so perhaps he might be willing to enlighten me as to whether this was going to culminate in something I best not be wholly unprepared for. "But humor me here for a second. You know what's going on here-the bigger picture, I mean," I said breezily. "And I'm guessing your charming daughter has asked you not to spoil the surprise, which is understandable…but I really wouldn't mind knowing what this is all leading up to." Provided we were actually leading up to something. Unless enjoying dancing ladies over a cup of fresh milk and a poached goose egg was to be the crowning glory of the Christmas season. "A guy doesn't like to be caught totally unawares, you understand."

The King clapped me on the shoulder, chuckling, "Enough surprises for a lifetime, son?"

"Something like that." It didn't seem like I was making all that much progress with the King, who merely looked bemused. "Maybe just a hint?" I tried.

He was a generous man, and although he examined his cup of milk for a moment, he finally seemed resolved to speak.

"Are you familiar with the tune-?" he began, but just as quickly as I thought I was going to receive some useful information, the Queen cleared her throat very purposefully and placed a gentle hand on his sleeve. Without missing a beat, the King stopped and turned back to the dancers, studiously looking forward.

"Mr. Fitzherbert," the Queen said with a smile, which admittedly made what I knew was coming easier to swallow. "Why don't you enjoy the dancing, my dear. A little less talking, hmm?"

And when the Queen commands, you listen.