While Beauty Slept by Elizabeth Blackwell Page A

Wrapped in a voluminous black cape, she was the only woman who had not clad herself in bright colors, and she drew my eye as a raven would amid a gathering of songbirds. Perhaps that was her intention. Millicent was never one to blend meekly into a crowd.
    I made my way to the Lower Hall for the servants’ dinner and took a seat beside Isla and Hessler, curious to know more about the man who might one day rule the kingdom.
    “Congratulations on your upcoming marriage,” I told him after we had been introduced. “Have you made plans for your wedding?” Though I genuinely wished Isla happiness, I had begun to dread her departure. Without her help, I worried that my clumsiness and ignorance would be on full display.
    “We will be saying our vows in a few days,” Isla said. “The queen has made all the arrangements.” The placement of her arm suggested she was touching Hessler’s leg under the table.
    “Where will Prince Bowen be traveling next?” I asked.
    “He has been courting a daughter of the king of Grenthia, so I imagine he has plans to return there.” Isla turned to Hessler. “Has there been a formal announcement of their betrothal?”
    He shook his head quickly. “The girl’s father has objected to the match. We will not be going back.”
    I was impressed by his discretion. Gossip is rampant among servants, especially those who bask in the glory of their patron. But I had heard nothing of Prince’s Bowen’s courtship—or his rejection.
    Hessler refilled Isla’s wineglass and addressed himself to her. “Have no fear. We’ll be well taken care of. My lord is resourceful.”
    It was not long before they were exchanging the affectionate glances and whispers of a couple who wish to converse in private. I finished up my food quickly and returned to the queen’s chamber. As I expected, she had left the Great Hall early, avoiding the post-supper entertainments.
    “Madam,” Lady Wintermale was protesting as I entered. “Prince Bowen was preparing to sing a song in your honor. To leave before he has done so . . .”
    “I have no interest in Bowen’s false adulation,” Queen Lenore snapped. I had never heard her speak with such bitterness.
    Lady Wintermale’s face froze in an expression of scandalized dismay.
    Queen Lenore sighed, then waved her hand, pushing her hard words away. “Forgive my outburst. I spoke without thinking.”
    “You must not forget they are brothers,” Lady Wintermale said urgently. “Bowen has always been a rogue—I know that as well as anyone, after all my years here. Yet he remains heir to the throne. A situation for which you are directly responsible.”
    “As I am forever reminded.”
    “Hate him if you must, but conceal it with honey. You may depend on his mercy one day.”
    Mercy was not a quality I sensed that Prince Bowen possessed. Was that the reason I found myself so uneasy in his presence?
    “Please, rejoin the festivities,” Queen Lenore urged. “Make my apologies.”
    Lady Wintermale nodded, her silent stare bristling with words unspoken. After she had swept out, I moved away from the wall and asked the queen if she wished to prepare for bed.
    “I have asked the king to join me this evening,” she said. The king’s and queen’s bedchambers adjoined each other, connected by a door concealed behind a hanging tapestry. In the weeks I had been an attendant, the king had availed himself of it on only a handful of occasions.
    “Shall I fetch a nightdress?” I asked.
    Queen Lenore smiled, her expression tinged with sadness. “Alas, it is not that sort of visit. I will receive him as an adviser, not a wife.” She fidgeted with the rings on her fingers, twisting them in circles, and I realized she was nervous. How had it come to this, that the queen was afraid of speaking to her own husband?
    She sat in the chair before her dressing table, and I took my place behind her. Carefully, I unclasped her necklace, a three-tiered marvel formed of delicate gold