Page 39 of The Heart of the King

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As Jazz sat crosslegged in one of the chairs, the door to between her office and David’s opened. He walked into her office. Her parents had spent three days but had to return home for some meeting her dad couldn’t miss. She and David hadn’t had a chance to talk privately since they’d arrived.

So she could finally ask him something she’d been wanting to. “How did your Council meeting go the other day?” She didn’t even wait for the door to finish closing behind him.

He shrugged. “Frustrating, though that’s about what I expected. Unfortunately, I can’t say much more than that. What happens in the Council Boardroom…”

“Stays in the Council Boardroom.” She shrugged. “I get it. I wish you had someone you can talk to about it.”

David sighed. “I’ll be all right.” He sat in one of the other chairs. They talked for about their upcoming events for about twenty minutes then he checked his phone. “I’m afraid I need to go.” He checked again. “But I think there’s something you might like in the ball room. Why don’t you head over there?”

She stood and accepted his kiss on her cheek. “I’ll head over there.” She slipped her feet into the heels she hated, but Sarah and Mrs. Sneedly had convinced her to wear them occasionally.

As she neared the ball room, a place she’d only been once as she toured the palace shortly after her arrival, Jazz could hear laughter echoing through the room.

“Ma’am.” The security guard on duty outside the ball room bowed toward her. “How may I serve you?”

She inclined her head his direction. “My husband suggested I might like to visit with whoever is in the ballroom.”

“Of course, ma’am. Would you prefer that I announce you?” He reached for the ornate door handle.

This time Jazz shook her head. “No. I’ll sneak in and see what’s going on before joining the fun.”

“Of course, ma’am.” He opened the door enough for her to slip in.

The sight that met her eyes made her smile. A drop cloth covered the floor of the ballroom and tables were set up all around. Students, likely no more than ten- or twelve-years-old, surrounded the tables with cakes on them.

They were working in teams to decorate them, though Jazz couldn’t see exactly what they were doing from her angle.

She walked slowly around the edge of the room to get a better look. Were theycarvingtheir cakes into shapes?

As hard as she tried to stay in the shadows, someone noticed her and the children were suddently too busy whispering to each other to focus on their work.

“Is that the queen?” One of the voices carried over the others.

Busted.

Jazz walked toward them, a smile on her face. “Good afternoon,” she said as she neared.

They all bowed or curtsied, knives and frosting spreaders still in their hands. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.” They weren’t quite in unison, but close enough.

“Would one of you be so kind as to tell me what it is you’re doing? It looks fascinating.” She clasped her hands behind her back, uncertain exactly what she should be doing.

One of the adults stepped foward. “These teams of three competed in their home cities as cake decorators. They’ve come here to compete for the King’s Young Baker Award. The new king himself will be judging later today.”

“Oh, how wonderful.” She shooed them back toward the tables. “Don’t mind me. Get back to work. I may come around and look more closely, though, if that’s all right?” She directed her question to the adult.

“Of course.”

Jazz wandered the room asking questions and being quite impressed with the answers until she reached a group of two instead of three. “Where is your third partner?” she asked.

One of them kept her focus on cutting something out of fondant. “Sick. She couldn’t make it.”

An idea struck. She didn’t know if it was a good one or not, but she was going for it. “What if I helped? I can’t promise I’m any good, but I can follow directions and do my best.”

The two girls exchanged a glance. “I guess that would be all right.”

“Don’t be afraid to kick me off if I can’t handle it,” she told them, motioning to one of the aides standing to the side. A moment later, she had an apron and non-latex gloves on, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. “Now, tell me what to do.”

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