4

Much to her chagrin, preparations began immediately. It seemed that almost as soon as she had agreed, she was swept away in a flurry of banners and decorations and guest lists, absolutely surrounded and consumed by the festivities.

She was constantly dragged from room to room, to be fitted for a coronation gown, to make decisions about the food, to receive advice from her counselors on what to say during her speech, to refresh her studies in etiquette, to be swallowed by a mess of voices and decisions.

Her savior was, as always, Bishop. He followed everywhere, ignoring everyone who came to meet with him, and instead watching Elodie closely. At the last moment, just when she felt she would suddenly snap and wring someone's neck, in he swooped and off they went, stealing away a brief ride through the vineyard, or to sneak off to his office, or a room on the far end of the castle, or into the garden. Anywhere she wanted to go, just so long as it was quiet.

Just a few moments of quiet, and a hug, and she could keep her composure for another day. Just a few minutes where she could scream and yell and scold him so that perhaps she would keep her sanity.

He took the scoldings without complaint, watching her pace angrily back and forth, her knuckles turning white as she clenched her fists.

"Why does no one know how to do their jobs?" She snapped at him. "Must I do everything for everyone? Must I hang the banners and cook the food as well?"

Bishop nodded sagely. "They'd lose their own heads if they weren't attached."

"I know!" Elodie shouted back, vindicated. She was grateful just to have someone agree with her. "Can't I just have one day where I can eat my breakfast in peace?"

He shook his head. "Soon, darling. Everything will calm down after the party. Just a few more days, now."

"Ugh! The party!" She snarled, collapsing onto the couch. She rested her head on his lap, looking up at him. "Why did I let you talk me into this?"

"I can be very persuasive," he replied, tapping the tip of his index finger on her button nose. "Everything will be alright. I promise."

"I'm holding you to it. The punishment for breaking a promise to the royal family is death!" She warned him, wrinkling her nose. "I can't show favoritism."

He laughed, nodding. "I understand. I'll be sure to keep it, then."

A knock on the door drew her attention, and she scowled as the door swung slowly open.

"What do you want, now?" She snapped.

A young woman peered into the room, her eyes wide with fright. "I'm sorry to interrupt – Bishop sent for a lunch cart?"

She rolled the cart in after her and pushed it into the middle of the room. "You didn't say exactly what you wanted, so she put together some samples for the par–"

"That'll be all," Bishop interrupted, waving her out. She nodded and left quickly without finishing her explanation or removing the metal dome that covered the food.

Elodie got up and went to see what it was. "Party, party, party," she mocked. "No one can talk about anything but the damn party."

"Watch your language," Bishop said gently.

Elodie lifted the dome. Underneath was a collection of sandwiches, sample bowls of soups and sauces, kebabs, roasted salmon, most of which she'd never had before.

"Huh." She stopped. What appeared to be a piece of paper had been slipped under one of the ceramic dishes, almost hidden. She pulled on the corner, freeing it from under the plate, and saw that it had a single complex character written on the one side, and another, different character on the other side.

She cursed, and held it up for Bishop to see. He shook his head, laughing in disbelief. The door suddenly swung open, and in walked Amayella, seething mad.

"There you are!" The eleven-year-old scolded. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"I know," Elodie grumbled. "I've been trying very hard to avoid you."

Bishop smiled at Amayella. "Good to see you, Princess. Excellent job with the tracking charm, by the by. You've improved greatly."

Amayella glared at him. "What's all this about a coronation and a party and all that? What are you thinking?"

"Well, it's not exactly my favorite thing in the world, either!" Elodie snapped back.

"How could you? They're still warm in their graves and here you are planning a party?" Amayella said, pointing an accusatory finger back out the door, where Elodie could already hear people noticing their argument and coming to investigate. She rushed toward the door and slammed it shut.

"You can't just mind your own business for a week and a half, you brat?" Elodie snapped back at her. "This is why I haven't seen you in days, because you're such a loudmouth, you always have to argue with me about everything."

"Girls," Bishop intervened, standing up from his place on the couch. "Amayella. This is hard for your sister. Please, be a little more considerate."

Amayella's mouth hung open in offense. "Considerate? My parents are dead too!"

Elodie blinked. She felt like her body was made of white-hot glass, and Amayella had thrown a stone, shattering her entirely. She took a threatening step towards her, and towered over her sister.

"You shut your mouth!" Elodie screamed. She pointed to the door, her entire body shaking. "Get out! Get out right now! I don't want to see your face ever again! GET OUT!"

Amayella glowered, shooting daggers with her eyes, and then looked past Elodie at Bishop.

"This was your idea, wasn't it?" She growled. "The coronation, the party, all of it. You're despicable."

Bishop held up his hands. "I'm only looking after your sister."

"Right," she said, her voice dripping with suspicion and sarcasm. "Bishop Callex, innocent bystander. You make me sick."

"I said get out!" Elodie repeated, swinging open the door and shoving Amayella out into the hallway. She stumbled backwards into the young lady who had delivered the lunch cart, and caught her. "You!"

Elodie pointed an accusatory finger at the servant. "Pack your things!"

She slammed the door shut, and clicked the lock into place, turning back towards Bishop. He was already walking around the couches towards her, and she balled up her fists. He wrapped his arms around her as she struck out, punching his arm with the side of her fist. Then another punch, and another, and another. He pulled her in and rubbed her back as she pummeled him, everything built up in her over the last week bubbling up in an uncontrollable rage.

She roared and punched him in the chest one last time before collapsing against him, letting out a frustrated breath.

They remained that way for several minutes, until Bishop grasped her shoulders and held her at arm's length.

"You look tired," he commented, then drew her back into his chest and ran his hand over her hair, whispering to himself. "My poor darling…"

She hadn't noticed before, but he was right. She was exhausted. Her entire body felt heavy, and her mind was sluggish. It had been a long few days, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd slept a full night.

"I am. So tired," she whispered.

"Take a nap in here," he said, leading her back over to the couches. "I'll make sure no one comes to bother us."

She fell again onto the soft leather and curled into a ball. Bishop leaned down and tucked a curl away behind her ear.

"I'm so terribly sorry that this has been such an ordeal," he murmured.

Elodie sighed, and shut her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his hand against her cheek. 

"It isn't your fault at all, is it…?" She conceded. "I'm just so angry."

"I know, dear. It's alright to be angry."

"Will it ever be okay, ever again?"

Bishop leaned his head down and kissed her forehead, and she felt a flood of peace over her for the first time in ages.

"Everything will be just fine," he said softly.

"You promise?" She asked, opening one eye to glance up at him.

He nodded, and stood up to move away. "I promise, my Princess."