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

•F I F T Y - F O U R•

Though having lost her own mother, what felt like an eternity ago, Céleste had no idea how to comfort Prudence. Céleste's mother died of an illness; how did one reassure the daughter of someone who had potentially been killed in cold blood? None of her etiquette lessons had taught her this, and none of her books would have the answers.

It took time for the commotion to fully diffuse. Remaining servants calmed their screams, nobles who hadn't gotten far offered aid, and Antoine and Sébastien took command of the reluctant Giromian soldiers, at Prudence's behest.

But as they descended the treacherous bridge steps, heading into the West Side, Céleste had no inkling how to soothe Prudence, who hadn't been able to quit crying since the news of her brother's demise.

Between sobs, the Princess had agreed that though the castle was properly manned and somewhat fireproof, it wasn't safe for her, the last Giromian royal. And so, escorted by a handful of Giromian guards, the group trod through the smoky streets of Westten, returning to the Inn where they'd met earlier.

Céleste gripped Prudence's arm, guiding her through the slush, helping her stay balanced. The Princess wobbled, her pained sniffles echoing out into the night. She was not herself anymore—she was perturbed, broken, and filled with a thirst for revenge.

Only once inside the Inn did Céleste relax a little. Sébastien took over the task of watching Prudence, and offered to take her upstairs, after requesting that the Innkeeper's wife draw her a bath. Céleste let go of her friend and stayed downstairs in the foyer, warming herself in front of the hearth as Antoine spoke in hushed tones with the Giromian captain.

The room was desolate but for a few chairs by the doors, a fireplace in the rear, and a stone counter in the middle. Antoine and the captain leaned over said counter as they chatted, and Céleste tried not to eavesdrop as she licked her lips at the vegetable and beef broth scent wavering in from the kitchens. Her mouth watered and her stomach gurgled, but now was not the time to eat.

And less so after stories of poisoning.

She lost her appetite fast as she rubbed her hands above the fire.

"You proved yourself a true ally today, Majesty," said the soldier, removing his helm to reveal his white hair and bushy graying eyebrows. "On behalf of the entire Giromian staff, I beg your forgiveness, for detaining you at the gates. If you had not been there..." Visible distress showed beneath his hardened expression, and he dipped his chin.

Antoine patted his shoulder. "Any good captain would have done the same. I assume your monarch warned you of a band of Totresians, no?" The man nodded. "You were unaware I came in peace, to speak with the Princess. He would have refused to believe that. I am glad you figured it out."

"King Gregor always instructed us to surrender if he were to fall. We did not know King Romain had fallen, but my instincts told me to trust you."