That night, beneath the safety of her quilt, Evelyn curled up with Ruth, her maidservant and only confidante. Ruth clutched her arm, tears dampening Evelyn's nightgown.
"What will I do when you're gone?" Ruth hiccuped. "The palace is so far, and—and what if they won't let me follow you?"
Evelyn laughed softly, thumb brushing Ruth's wet cheek. "Silly girl. You're coming with me—who else would scold me for skipping baths or stealing pastries?"
Ruth's sobs dissolved into a giggle, but then she peered closer. "…Miss, you've never even spoken to Prince Werner. Yet you seem… happy?" A teasing nudge. "Do you fancy him? He is tall and handsome, I suppose—"
"No!" Evelyn flicked Ruth's nose, but her smile faded. The truth spilled out, fragile as candlelight: "It's not about him. Today, Father finally saw me. Spoke to me like I mattered." She pressed a hand to her racing heart. "If marrying a stranger is the price for that, I'll pay it gladly."