CHAPTER 24
The next day, the palace buzzed with the heat of preparations. Servants scurried through the halls, tending to their tasks with urgent precision. In the midst of it all, Grace sent for Robert. He arrived promptly, his posture rigid with discipline as he stepped into her chamber.
Grace wasted no time. "Has the order for baked bread and lemon sauce been placed?"
Robert hesitated before answering. "No, Your Highness."
She tilted her head slightly, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "But the kingdom of Alasgacar does not accept bread. How, then, is Mathew Sterrn able to place an order for it and have it delivered?"
Robert's brow furrowed, his voice calm yet calculating. "I had the same thought, Your Highness, but we need Mathew Sterrn. If we make a move against him too soon, we risk driving him away before we get what we need."
"Well said," Grace conceded, though her tone remained firm. "But once this is over, the kingdom's traditions will return to order. We do not jeopardize our policies so easily."
Robert gave a small smirk. "Of course, Prince Quicke. You've never pardoned anyone who goes against the law."
Grace allowed herself a fleeting moment of satisfaction. Amidst everything that had happened, she was still perceived as Prince Quicke. That was a victory in itself.
The brief moment of ease was interrupted when Robert's expression turned grim. "Your Highness, if I may" He exhaled deeply. "I haven't been able to sleep properly since my encounter with Mathew Sterrn. That name he mentioned, Grace Johnson, it still lingers in my mind. It feels familiar, though I don't know why."
Grace's breath hitched slightly, but she quickly composed herself. "What do you mean, familiar? You told me you've never seen or heard that name before."
"Yes, but" Robert paused as both he and Grace heard the sudden sound of shattering glass near the entrance.
Their heads snapped toward the door. Standing there was Juliet, holding a golden tray with a broken glass cup at her feet. Milk spilled across the floor, pooling around the shards. Her expression was a whirlwind of emotions, shock, anger, fear, something unreadable flickering behind her golden-brown eyes.
Grace took a cautious step forward. "Lady Juliet, why did you break the glass? And why were you bringing my milk?"
Juliet hesitated, adjusting the pink bow in her hair, as if trying to regain control of herself. "I… I…" She glanced down at the spilled milk, her voice shaking. "Robert was supposed to bring it, but you called for him. I didn't want to keep you waiting, so I decided to bring it myself."
Grace's eyes narrowed slightly. "There are maids who could have done that. You know you're not supposed to come near me. It's tradition." She paused. "And how long have you been standing there?"
Juliet's gaze flickered uncertainly. "Not quite long," she answered quickly. "I was waiting for the right moment to enter, Prince Quicke."
Grace studied her closely. Juliet had finally heard that name, Grace Johnson. That much was obvious. "Are you sure? What made you spill the milk? Did you hear something or did you lose balance?"
Juliet's jaw tightened slightly before she forced a small smile. "I lost balance."
She was lying. Grace could see it in the way her fingers trembled slightly against the tray.
Robert stood silently, watching them both. His arms were clasped behind his back, his sharp eyes analyzing every movement. Something was off, and he knew it. Juliet looked frightened, suspicious even. But why?
Grace didn't let her unease show. Instead, she gave Juliet a cold, measured look. "Be careful next time, Lady Juliet. You wouldn't want to injure yourself before the grand event." Her voice hardened. "And this should be the last time I see you around here. If I do, I'll start thinking otherwise. And you know that won't be good."
Juliet swallowed hard and lowered her gaze. "Understood, Prince Quicke. I won't come near you again." She turned briskly. "I'll send the servants to clean this mess up."
Both Grace and Robert watched as she disappeared down the hallway.
Juliet arrived at her room and slammed the door behind her, her breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Grace Johnson" she thought
That name. That damned name. I thought she died.
What was it doing in the palace? And why was Prince Quicke of all people looking for her?
Juliet ran a hand through her hair, trying to steady herself. She's dead. She has to be.
Because if Grace Johnson was alive, then my cousin and I were finished.
Back at Grace's chamber, she and Robert remained standing by the door, her mind racing. "Do you think Lady Juliet was up to something?" she asked Robert, though she already knew the answer.
Robert hesitated before shaking his head. "No, Your Highness. Maybe she really did lose balance."
Grace sighed. "I want you to keep an eye on her. Watch her every move, who she speaks to, where she goes, even when she's with her family. I don't care how private it is. You will know everything."
Robert hesitated. "Every moment, Your Highness?"
Grace's gaze was sharp, unwavering. "Every single one."
A heavy silence settled between them before Robert finally nodded. "Understood."
"Good." Grace exhaled, turning back toward her chamber. "Gather the guards and the officials. Make sure they're prepared to escort Juliet's family. Some should be sent ahead to ensure their safety. They need to be here immediately."
"Yes, Your Highness." Robert responded.
Grace moved toward her chamber door, but before stepping inside, she paused. "And one more thing" She glanced over her shoulder. "The tea house. Make sure to call and check on the order. I don't have time to waste."
She shut the door behind her with a firm slam.
Robert stood frozen for a moment, then turned away, his mind swirling with too many questions, Juliet was scared of something. That much was obvious, but what was it?
And why did the name Grace Johnson feel so familiar?