Swords, Secrets, and Slightly Illegal Snacks

It was a quintessentially respectable afternoon at the palace—which, in Charlotte-speak, meant something was absolutely going to go horribly wrong.

I had just narrowly escaped a soul-crushing embroidery lesson (Lady Mildred's voice was drier than the kingdom's southern border) and was now crouched behind a hedge near the training yard. Beside me, as always, was Elias—dutiful, exasperated, and exactly the sort of boy who would help me climb a roof while giving a lecture on consequences.

"You promised you wouldn't sneak into the barracks again," Elias said, arms folded in that disappointed older brother way he hadn't earned.

"I lied," I replied cheerfully. "Also, the cook left the cinnamon pastries unattended. That's basically an act of war."

He sighed. "If the King finds out—"

"I'll blame Whiskers," I said sweetly, offering him half of the very much stolen pastry I'd smuggled in my sleeve.

He hesitated, then took it. "One day, you'll push it too far."

"One day," I agreed, biting into mine. "But not today."

With that, I bolted from the hedge and sprinted toward the knights' sparring ring, Elias's muffled complaints trailing behind me. I climbed the fence and perched on top like a disapproving songbird, hurling unsolicited advice at the squires dueling below.

"Less flailing, more stabbing! Pretend it's Lady Mildred's embroidery needle!"

One squire collapsed laughing. The other lost his grip on the practice sword entirely.

Elias reached me just as the commotion reached its peak.

"Charlotte!" he hissed. "Get down before someone notices you!"

"But they already adore me," I said with a dazzling smile.

Sure enough, the sparring had come to a halt. One knight saluted me with his sword. Another called, "Care to try a bout, Princess?"

I struck a pose, one booted foot on the railing, arms flung wide like the heroine of a tragic play.

Elias groaned. "This is how wars start."