The Secret of the Seven Princesses

This was getting to be a pattern. Gone were the old days of dining room pandemonium, of flying food and broken dishes. Gone, even, were the days of secretive silences and hushed whispers between the princesses. Now, the royal family spent every meal in tense silence, the air heavy with Gustave's enraged disapproval and the princesses' feigned guilt. It had become so uncomfortable, in fact, that Callia had even come to wish for the temporary reprieve offered when a new prince or contestant joined them for a nightly attempt at solving the mystery.

On days when the castle didn't play host to an outside guest, other inhabitants of the castle had been joining them more frequently at the dinner table in a controversial break from the family dinner tradition. Callia suspected that Gustave was attempting to avoid talking to his daughters by any means necessary, and she even wondered whether he was pettily invoking a silent treatment to punish his daughters in any way he could.

The king had invited Sir Bionne a few times to discuss matters of state, but the steward usually tried to avoid invading on their personal time. It was a pity; he would have been a welcome addition in Callia's opinion, and she knew that Eralie would have jumped at the chance to spend more time with him. The princesses had been much less pleased, however, when Sir Luka began to make a regular appearance.

As far as Callia was concerned, another prince would be a welcome alternative to dinner with Sir Luka. Mealtimes still remained just as tense as ever, only in a different way.

Tonight, for instance, their entrance into the dining room resembled nothing so much as a game of musical chairs: Callia took her customary seat on the left side of the table, only to jump up an instant later, panicked, when Luka attempted to sit beside her. Heedless of the rudeness of her actions, Callia dashed to the other side of the table to settle in Petra's usual seat. She had no sooner sat down, however, when Luka's presence alerted her to the need to move yet again. She darted around, groping for a seat far from him. Eralie, Raia, and Thaleia hung around uncertainly, unwilling to take a seat until the arrangement had been determined. Eurielle, who had already been forced to give up her seat to Callia once, had now reclaimed it, holding onto the wood beneath her so tightly that not even an earthquake could dislodge her.

The cat-and-mouse game went on for several minutes until Callia finally settled into the seat to the right of Eurielle, forcing Petra into the seat on her other side. Luka, defeated, had to be content with sitting across from his prize and attempting to woo her with his gaze. The remaining princesses adjusted their seating arrangements accordingly and the entire party settled into the now-typical tension, punctuated only by the sounds of silverware and chewing.

Sir Luka had by this time experienced enough family dinners to realize that his conversation was neither required nor appreciated by most of the diners. Callia studiously avoided looking across the table at him, instead focusing intently on mixing the butter into her mashed potatoes as if her life depended on it. It was for this reason, therefore, that she startled when he suddenly broke the silence; she had been so focused on pretending that he wasn't there, that she'd nearly convinced herself of the fact.

"Your Highness, if I may be so bold as to speak?" Luka requested, placing his fork and knife alongside his plate and turning to face the sovereign. King Gustave motioned for him to continue, still toying with his own dinner.

"Sir, I would like to formally declare my intention to enter the prince competition."

He had now successfully garnered the king's attention, as well as that of the ladies themselves. Gustave's fork stopped halfway to his mouth, the bite of food forgotten in the wake of Luka's shocking announcement. Cliodne dropped her spoon with a loud thunk, Raia gasped, and Thaleia choked slightly. Eurielle clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from spraying juice across the table—on second thought, Callia wished that she'd let it happen, as Luka was directly in the line of fire. Petra, as always, showed little emotion other than a slight quirk of her eyebrows, but Callia suspected that Eralie was so deep in her own thoughts that she hadn't heard a word that Sir Luka said. As for Callia herself, she felt herself gaping, open-mouthed, at Luka. He turned toward her, smirking suggestively, and she quickly averted her eyes to a point just over his left shoulder, rearranging her face into a deadpan expression.

Without taking his eyes from Callia, Luka continued: "Your Majesty, with all due respect, I believe that your daughters have rebelled against His Highness for long enough. I have no doubt that I will be able to succeed in solving the mystery."

Callia felt a white-hot flash of anger at his confident tone, and could only imagine the looks on her sisters' faces.

Finally, Gustave answered, glancing uneasily at his daughters' mutinous expressions.

"I accept your candidacy, Sir Luka." He straightened in his chair, then cast a piercing glance toward his daughters. "And I perfectly agree with you. But I must adhere to all of the rules of the competition, and so do you. If by some chance you fail—"

"I understand, sir, and I will not fail. And when I succeed, I shall be more than happy to claim my prize." Against her will, Callia glanced again toward Luka, and felt the bile rise in her throat when he winked at her. This time, she refused to look away, instead staring him down with a defiance that she did not feel. She clenched her hands beneath the table to keep them from shaking as she considered how to deal with this latest dilemma. She didn't need to look to either side of her to know that there would be an emergency sister conference immediately after they had all escaped dinner.

For the fact of the matter was that the princesses were completely unprepared for Luka's announcement. Consequently, they'd had no notice to prepare a sleeping draught for the man, and now they'd certainly lost their chance to perform their usual dinner drugging. Callia was itching to discuss with her sisters how best to deal with the situation,

The remainder of the meal dragged even more slowly than usual. Callia had pushed her plate away long ago, her appetite long lost, but Gustave seemed to have regained his. He and Luka each ate voraciously, neither of them seeming to notice or care that their tablemates barely touched their own meals. At long last, dessert was cleared away and they were permitted to take their leave.

Callia took no time in following her sisters from the room. They were a silent group as they made their way to their bedchamber, none of them feeling secure enough in the privacy of the hallways to make a sound. What a change a couple months could make! Callia could remember a time when they freely traipsed through the entire castle, and now even the most basic of freedoms had been stripped from them due to their father's fear.

Noise burst from the group as soon as their door closed behind them.

"I can't believe—!"

"But can we—?"

"The nerve of him!"

"I just wanted to—"

"Do we have any ready?"

"—smack that smirk off his face!"

"Okay, okay!" Eralie's raised voice cut through the frenzy. Callia turned her attention to the firstborn princess, her eyebrows raised in surprise at the firmness and calm control in her voice. But then, Eralie had been surprising her a lot lately.

"I know this is a hitch, but let's talk about what we can do," Eralie said, sitting on the end of her bed. Cliodne and Eurielle sat on either side of her, Callia and Raia settled on Callia's bed, Thaleia on the floor, and Petra took a seat on her trunk. An expectant look on her face, Eralie glanced around at her sisters.

"Isn't anyone else going to speak? Because that's about as forceful as I can be."

Callia cracked a smile at Eralie's wry tone. Her humor broke the princesses' panic, and she was relieved to hear them speak rationally once more.

"So, we obviously weren't able to get Luka to take the valerian root," Cliodne said. "Does anyone have any other ideas to keep him from being a problem tonight?"

"He's not like the others. As much as I hate to admit it, he's actually smart, and he'll be more on his guard since he's not a stranger to the situation," Thaleia claimed. "He won't be the easiest to get the better of, even if we did manage to drug him like planned."

"But he's also the last person in the world that we want to find out about the sanctum!" Eurielle protested.

Petra rolled her eyes. "We already know that, you ninny! Don't you have anything to add that will actually be helpful?"

Eurielle was about to retort, but Raia interrupted.

"I don't have an answer for that, but I know where he's going to end up if we get the chance." She exchanged a meaningful, communicative look with Petra. Callia suspected that Raia's hatred for Luka rivaled her own, ever since he had mercilessly beaten Gwen, one of the serving maids who had helped Raia in acquiring uniquely colored paints from her hometown.

Catching Raia's train of thought, Callia found that she couldn't agree more: "There's only one place he deserves to be."

"Well, let's make sure he gets there," said Petra. Her eyes twinkled, belying her sudden train of thought. Her sisters regarded her curiously, but she took her time in answering. Callia hated when she chose to build up the suspense in this way.

"Think about it: we weren't able to drug him at dinner, so we need to figure out another way to give him the valerian root, right? And for that, we need to find someone to conveniently offer him wine or something without making him suspicious, right? And who is the one person that Sir Luka would be eager to accept anything from?"

Callia felt her stomach sink when six pairs of eyes turned in her direction. She was not going to enjoy this.

A/N: Sorry that this chapter's a little shorter than the others, but we'll make up for it, we promise!