Page 2 of Kingdom of Locks

“A girl would have an easier life, too.”

At this addition, Imelda cast a sideways look at her friend. “I have noticed that King Justus is…a little hard on Prince Justin.”

Racquel grimaced at the understatement, but didn’t respond. Here was another thing she couldn’t bring herself to discuss with her happy friend. Guilt lanced through her at the thought of her son, and the pressure he already faced. But what was the point in dwelling on it? She knew she’d never be able to stand up to Justus, not when it came to raising his son and successor. But a sweet baby princess…might not her mother be allowed more say in her upbringing? Surely it would be considered the queen’s province to choose what kind of instructors and companions should surround and educate a princess.

“Imelda,” she said.

Her friend seemed to sense her sudden nerves, because she straightened up from alongside her daughter and gave the queen her full attention. “What is it?”

“Well…” Racquel twisted her gown between her fingers. “I know you’re happy as you are, but I wondered if you might consider accepting a position in the castle, back in Allenton.”

“In the castle?” Imelda looked startled.

Racquel swallowed. “If this is a girl,” she said, rubbing her belly protectively, “I wondered if you would consider being her lady-in-waiting.” She saw Imelda’s hesitation, and hurried on. “I know there would be a cost to your own family, but the title does come with some benefits. Access to the castle, perhaps even additional education for your children.”

She met her friend’s eyes, a plea in her own. “There’s no one else I trust, Imelda. You’re my oldest friend—myonlyfriend from my life before I became queen. I want this child to be surrounded by love, not by…” She trailed off, but she knew she didn’t need to finish. Imelda was already far too aware of the cold calculation that typified King Justus’s every move.

“The title doesn’t interest me in the slightest,” said Imelda frankly. Her eyes softened. “But for the sake of our friendship, Racquel, I would gladly do it.”

“Thank you,” the queen cried, enveloping her friend in an embrace, partly to hide the tears building behind her eyes. Now she just had to hope that the baby truly was a girl.

As she pulled back from Imelda, her eyes fell on a crumbling stone wall partway across the meadow. It was so overgrown, she hadn’t even noticed it at first.

“Did you ever crave anything strange when you were pregnant?” she asked her friend.

Imelda looked bemused at the sudden change in topic. “Nothing too strange. Why?”

Racquel gave a self-conscious laugh. “That honeysuckle looks unbelievably good right now.”

Imelda followed her gaze to see the flowers creeping over the crumbling stone.

“You can’t eat flowers, silly,” chimed in the little girl.

“Felicity!” scolded Imelda. “You’re speaking to our queen!”

“Oh,” said Felicity, eyes wide and curious. “Can you eat flowers if you’re a queen?”

Racquel just laughed. “Not usually,” she explained. “But honeysuckles can actually be eaten.”

“Go on, then,” encouraged Imelda.

Racquel shook her head. “Oh no. I was just being foolish.”

“Racquel,” Imelda scolded her. “You’re Albury’s queen. If anyone can get away with eating whatever they like, it’s you.”

“Justus wouldn’t approve,” Racquel sighed.

Imelda looked like she wanted to roll her eyes. “The king isn’t here, Racquel. And many physicians believe that if a woman craves food while she’s expecting, it’s because her baby needs it. I’ll even fetch it for you.”

Racquel let out a final feeble protest, but Imelda was already marching across the clearing. The young queen followed in her friend’s wake, not sure whether to be amused or embarrassed by the sight of the other woman scrambling up onto a moss-covered log in order to reach some of the trailing flower.

“Here you go!” Imelda cried triumphantly, jumping nimbly to the ground again with a sprig of yellow blooms in her hand.

Still a little self-conscious, Racquel took them and nibbled at one of the petals.

“Well?” Imelda demanded.

Racquel let out a reluctant laugh. “It tastes delicious.”

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