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but this is enough. When Prince Lulath comes with his herd of lapdogs, one of you must look him in the eye and tell him to take them to the kennel!”
    “But it—” Celie protested.
    “Befouling Castle Glower with hair and dirt and … soil from those little yappers! And during a time of mourning, too!”
    Celie was rather fond of small dogs, or dogs of any kind, but she had to admit that the prince’s demands seemed rather pushy, especially since he had invited himself to the ceremony. Rolf and Lilah were still worried that the Grathians would try to take over the Castle, and the list of “necessities” that had been sent ahead of the prince’s traveling party seemed to confirm their fears. He was requiring that he and his men be put in the best possible quarters, and for an indeterminate length of time. He had requested special foods brought to him and his servants and dogs, a tailor on hand to help him if he needed to alter his clothes or order new ones, a carpenter in case his rooms were not to his liking, and a private study large enough for him to meet with his ambassador and other confidants as often as necessary.
    “Princess Cecelia?”
    Celie folded the paper and put it in her sleeve again. “I’ll do it,” she told Cook. “And I’ll let Lilah know that you’ve got everything ready in the kitchen, like I knew you would.”
    “Thank you, Princess,” Cook said.
    The big woman turned to one of the kitchen maids. “Lunch, on a tray,” she barked. “For Prince Rolf and Princess Delilah as well.”
    “Oh, and Pogue,” Celie put in. “Pogue is helping Rolf.”
    Cook raised her eyebrows, but merely said, “Of course.”
    “I’ll take the tray to Prince Rolf and Master Parry,” one of the maids offered. She giggled, and shared a look with her friend.
    “You.” Cook pointed to another maid, who had been quietly ladling soup into four bowls. “Take the tray to Prince Rolf and Master Parry. You”—she pointed to the giggling maid—“Princess Cecelia and Princess Delilah.
    “Now.”

Chapter
    7
    W ith the maids behind her, one looking smug and the other angry, Celie wound her way back through the Castle to the small family dining room, where Rolf and Lilah had taken to barricading themselves when they needed to talk. Lilah was there now, bent over a wax tablet on which she and Ma’am Housekeeper were making seating arrangements for the feast.
    “Lilah, we’ve brought lunch,” Celie announced. “And everything in the kitchen is just fine. Cook is prepared for anything.”
    Celie sat down and nodded to the maid to put her tray down. She thought she’d be too nervous and upset to eat on the day of the memorial, even before it had become a funeral for her parents, and at breakfast the odor of the eggs and sausage had turned her stomach and sent her scurrying from the room. But now she practically grabbed the lunch tray out of the maid’s hands without waiting for Lilah to even look up.
    “I’ll eat in a moment,” Lilah said absently.
    “You’d best eat now,” Ma’am Housekeeper said. She scooped up the wax tablet. “It looks well enough, Your Highness. I’ll review it one last time, and show Master Denning.” Master Denning was the head butler. “We’ll make any changes we think necessary, but I don’t think there will be any.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Quite sure, Your Highness,” the housekeeper said in her kind voice.
    She marched out, shooing the kitchen maids in front of her, and Lilah sat down with a sigh.
    Lilah lifted the lid of her tray, wrinkled her nose, and put the lid back. Celie raised her eyebrows: lunch was an excellent cheese and cauliflower soup, with bacon and tomato sandwiches to dip in it, and bunches of enormous grapes. Lilah loved cheese and cauliflower soup and grapes.
    “You need to eat,” Celie said sternly, taking a big bite of her own sandwich to encourage her sister.
    “Yes, you do,” Pogue agreed, coming into the room with Rolf.
    They sat down,