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Chapter 1 (excerpt)Peanut glared at the frilly doublet and burgundy hose his valet had laid out on his bed. Didn't Uncle Pyck know he wasn't used to this? A valet! But as the queen's soon to be adopted son, Peanut had to have a valet.The man was supposed to be Peanut's servant but was decked out better than Peanut had ever been in his life. The fop actually had golden swan-shaped buckles on his shoes—big ones. And now he wanted to dress Peanut up like a girl. It wasn't going to happen. “I can put on my own clothes!” “Yes, Your Highness. I know you can. And you will be the queen's royal heir to the Romatican throne as soon as your adoption is official. Use the royal we. We can put on our own clothes.” “I'm not a royal prince, yet.” “Au contraire, Your Highness. The ceremony is just an outward declaration of what Her Majesty, the queen, has already decided. We have in the royal treasury all the signed and sealed documents that make Your Highness the adopted son of Queen Quila, monarch of Romatica.” His nose rose a little as he said this. “Your Highness is a royal prince, and you will honor the kingdom of Romatica with proper behavior.” Peanut rolled his eyes. He wouldn't be treated like a baby. He grabbed the tunic off the bed and donned it—first one arm, then the other. To his dismay, he realized the tunic wasn't designed to let him put it on by himself. The valet's rosewater perfume assaulted the air as he worked the nine hundred buttons running down Peanut's back. The man's fastidious fingers made Peanut draw in his breath and stand straighter. He didn't want to stand straighter. That was too much like cooperation. Why cooperate with stupidity? Buttons should be in the front, where he could do them himself—or better yet, just give him something to pull over his head and be done with it. That was all he'd ever had. His own mother hadn't dressed him since he was four years old. Peanut sighed. He hated Rosewater for making him think of his mother. She was gone. He wished he were gone, too—away from this well-dressed idiot. “Get out!” “Your Highness?” “Get out!” Peanut snatched himself away from Rosewater and flopped onto the bed. Rosewater winced at the wrinkles Peanut was putting in the stupid doublet, but he didn't care. “Your Highness, please. I must prepare you. The queen will have my head if you don't look simply dashing on this of all days.” Peanut rolled his eyes again. He did that a lot with Rosewater. If only he could roll the man out of the chamber. What did he think the queen wanted with his head—such as it was? “We are under orders from the queen to . . .” “The queen?” Peanut glanced around his chamber, looking this way and that. “The queen isn't here. I'm here, so you take orders from me now. And I say get out. I don't need you here. I don't want you. Get out!” ; |
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