Chapter 48: Perhaps a New Queen?
The next morning, Mr. Fisher and Luna paid a visit to the castle. The feast was still five days out, but they’d been called in early for preparations.
As the royal carriage rolled through the castle gates, Luna’s eyes went straight to the building ahead — the largest she’d ever laid eyes on.
The castle featured a water fountain at the front, flanked on both sides by expansive gardens. She also spotted a familiar royal carriage parked in a corner just within the gates, while guards were stationed throughout—clear evidence of heavy protection. As the carriage drew closer to the main building, a royal guard approached and stopped by the door.
The head guard, Namor, opened the carriage door and offered a hand to help her down.
She wore a pristine green gown, white gloves, an outfit sent over by the castle itself, marking her status even as just a chef. She’d also brought a small box-bag with her — a gift.
Namor led them toward the throne room. As they passed an open hallway, Luna caught sight of the first princess training on the field below with her instructor.
She’d always known the princess as a spoiled child — she remembered Amira describing her as incompetent, coasting entirely on privilege — but the longer Luna watched, the harder that image became to hold onto.
The princess’s speed and swordwork rivaled anything Luna had seen, save for Amira herself. Curious, she glanced up at Namor. "Sir, has the princess always been this skilled? I’d heard she had no interest in training at all."
Namor slowed, glancing out at the field for a moment before continuing. "She hasn’t — not until a few days ago, after an incident. I don’t know the full details, only that we were relieved she survived it. But something shifted in her since. And sometimes—" He paused, glancing back down at her. "It’s honestly a little terrifying."
They watched a while longer, the princess seemingly oblivious to the audience, driving her instructor back on his heels after only days of training. Eventually Namor turned. "The king is waiting."
They fell in behind him toward the throne hall.
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The throne room opened before them with eight heavy pillars lining each side, a long red carpet stretching from the entrance straight to the throne.
A man with black hair and pale blue eyes sat flanked by guards, dressed in a long purple robe that marked his rank clearly — King Thema of Warstone.
As they crossed the carpet, Luna counted the guards — twenty, evenly split on either side of the throne — plus a handful of nobles gathered around the hall. Fitting, given this was the biggest feast of the year — the king’s beloved daughter’s birthday, always the grandest event on the calendar.
They reached the throne and bowed together, Namor included. He stepped aside for the king to speak.
"You’ve arrived right on time," the king said. Mr. Fisher answered without lifting his head. "Just as you requested, my lord."
"Rise," the king said, and they both did. "The feast begins in five days. You’ll remain in the castle until it concludes, and for three days after. Payment will follow, as agreed." He paused, letting the words settle. "This is my daughter’s birthday feast. I expect nothing short of perfection. Understood?"
Mr. Fisher nodded quickly. "Understood, my lord. We — we’ll give it everything we have."
The king’s gaze drifted to Luna, and for a moment their eyes locked, his expression distant, as if looking through her rather than at her.
She knew the queen had died giving birth to their fifth child seven years earlier, and though the child survived, the king had never remarried — his love for her had never faded. Now he stared at Luna, and no one quite understood why, though most assumed it had something to do with her red hair — the same shade the late queen had worn, though none of his children had inherited much of her looks, save Elestar, who came closest.
After a long, uncomfortable silence, the king finally spoke. "You’re behind the meal, I take it."
She stepped forward, gathering the hem of her gown, and bowed. "Yes, my lord. Your humble servant will do everything in her power for the feast." She lifted her gaze back to him. "I’ve also accepted the king’s offer of the royal chef position. I’m deeply grateful for the opportunity, my lord."
Something flickered across the king’s face — subtle enough that only she seemed to catch it — before he replied, "Very well." He turned to Namor. "Show them to their quarters until the feast concludes, and prepare a room for Miss Luna for her permanent stay here."
Namor bowed. "As you wish, my lord."
He turned and led the way, and both of them followed.
As they walked, Luna could still feel the king’s gaze lingering on her back. A single thought crossed her mind — perhaps her climb didn’t have to stop at royal chef. Perhaps she needed to set her sights higher. A faint smile touched her lips as the thought settled into resolve. She was going to be queen. Whatever it took.
---
They were shown to a private wing of the castle, and Luna was given a room not far from the princess’s training grounds.
The room held a large bed, a wall mirror, a table, and a handful of finer touches — nothing like the average chef’s quarters, closer in quality to something above even a decent city motel.
She crossed to the window and watched the princess wrapping up her training below, staying at the glass until the girl finally vanished from view.
Her thoughts drifted back to the king, to the way he’d looked at her. Something coiled inside her — not affection, nothing close to it, but something closer to anticipation. Like she’d just been handed a shot at a prize, and all that remained was claiming it.
She’d arrived planning to work her way in as staff, edge close enough to royalty to eventually earn favor. Now there was a real chance she could become royalty herself — no more need to earn anyone’s favor at all.
She crossed to the mirror and studied her reflection. Replacing a queen wouldn’t be simple, she knew that much, but she was committed to it. Her plan formed quickly: learn everything about the late queen — her character, her mannerisms, her habits — and adapt herself to match. She’d play the part with precision, careful not to overreach into a full imitation; a woman trying too hard to fill a dead queen’s shoes tended to earn resentment instead of affection.
Instead, she’d aim for something close enough to feel familiar, distinct enough to never be mistaken for a copy.
A plan began forming in her mind. Before approaching the king directly, she’d need to win over the royal children first — earn their trust, their affection — so that by the time she made her move toward the king, she’d already have their support behind her.
She sat on the bed, running through who to approach first, and how she’d even begin learning about the former queen. It didn’t take long to land on an answer.
The king’s favorite. The first princess.
She turned the plan over — she couldn’t just walk into the girl’s quarters uninvited, and she didn’t even know where they were. Making first contact without the princess approaching her first would be tricky.
Her eyes landed on the box-bag sitting at the edge of the bed. She’d forgotten to hand it off to Namor for the king. But before she could reach for it, another thought struck her — the princess had only just left the training field. If she moved quickly, she could still catch up, and the gift could double as an early birthday present. A mistake turned opportunity.
She grabbed the box and hurried out, steadying her pace once she was moving — quick enough to catch up, casual enough not to look like she was chasing anyone down.
She turned corner after corner, calculating where the princess should be, hoping she hadn’t miscounted.
Then, rounding another turn, voices reached her from just ahead. She couldn’t tell if they were approaching or retreating, so she quickened her step, and when she reached the corner, she paused, drew a breath, and stepped out.
The princess and her instructor were heading her way, stopping a few feet off. Luna offered a bright smile and a polite bow.
She lifted her gaze back to the princess. "My lady, I didn’t expect to run into you here — what a coincidence." She extended the box toward her, voice softening into something warm and practiced. "I brought this for you, my lady. It’s not much, but it’s all I could manage."
Only after the words left her did she register the look settling over the princess’s face — and she couldn’t quite tell if it was simple surprise at the gift, or the first flicker of a plan already turning against her before it had even begun.