The Prince's Mistake

I woke at five in the morning as I usually did. I showered and dressed for the day before meeting my mother in the breakfast room of our small cabin at the edge of the crown’s vast property for a quick breakfast.

“Coffee?”

“Is that even a question?” I chuckled before cupping the warm mug in my hands and taking a sip. My mother walked around the table and gave my shoulders a squeeze, “Happy birthday, babe.”

I looked up at my mom with a smile, “Thanks, mom.”

Mom looked at me with a tear in her eye, “It’s hard to believe you’re eighteen and soon to head off to start your own life.” Sophie shook her head, willing her tears away.

“So this morning, I'll do the biscuits if you make the sauce and poach the eggs,” she stated as we walked out the door toward the main palace, the sun not even peaking up on the horizon yet in the early morning hours.

“Deal,” I replied, yawning.

My mom, Sophie, was the head cook for the royal family. She ran the kitchen in the palace and planned three meals a day, seven days a week for whoever wanted to come. She was an amazing cook, and one of the most respected servants in the house, mostly because nobody wants to get on the bad side of the cooks.

I, on the other hand, was a senior in high school, and was far from respected.

“Don’t forget, after school I need you to help me start planning for the banquet next week!” My mother shouted as I ran to catch the bus.

I was late again, having to help clean up the kitchen before school almost always made me miss the bus. I caught it today, much to my surprise. I took a seat near the front and let out a sigh, never quite looking forward to a day at school with a bunch of rich pricks.

When I got off the bus I made my way into the high school and instantly lowered my head, hoping to pass through the halls unnoticed this morning.

“Well if it isn’t the birthday girl,” Mariah boomed from behind.

I turned around, keeping my voice stone-cold and even, “Hi, Mariah.”

“You’re eighteen now, you know what that means,” one of her minions spat.

“Oh, does little-miss-nothing think she’ll be getting a match?!” Mariah scoffed. She was daughter of the King’s right hand and self-proclaimed princess of the school.

I gave a smile that wasn’t at all genuine and the bell rang. “It’s been a pleasure as always ladies. Thank you for the birthday wishes.” I turned and walked to my locker. Grabbing my books, I made my way to my first class that thankfully finished uneventfully. I actually made it all the way to lunch without being bothered.

“Happy birthday to me,” I chuckled at the thought.

“Move.”

I closed my eyes and let out a breath before turning, lowering my head in submission as I did.

“Excuse me…” I muttered as I stepped out of the way and she pushed past me, wrapping her arms around Zane, prince and heir to the throne. My eyes looked up and met his, memories that I thought had been banished to the far reaches of my mind surged forward from years ago.

I snapped myself out of the memory from years before and shrugged as I made my way out of the cafeteria and outside to a bench where I was most likely to be left alone.

I made it back home to be surprised with a cake and a small present. Even though we were now at the bottom of the pecking order, my mom was always bright and kind.

“I love you sweetheart,” my mom hugged me as she cleaned up before we headed to the palace to finish our work for the day.

As I sent out the last dishes for the royal family’s evening meal, I leaned against the counter with a sigh. I glanced over at my mother with a sad smile. She was so tired and so overworked, something she had never been used to doing until a few years ago when we had fallen out of grace with the royal family and our world shattered.

I had been raised as a lady, my father a darling of the King and Queen, and had grown up pampered and comfortable.

When my father died, my mother found out just how quickly you can fall from grace when she, still mourning over my father and her love, rejected an offer of marriage from another of the King’s favorites.

The King, from what I remembered, was a kind man, but never one to do more than necessary for others. When our house was taken and the money ran out, my mother did the only thing she could do—appeal to the King. He barely glanced at her before offering her a place as head of his kitchens, which she took without second thought. Anything to keep us housed and fed.

And so for the last four years, my mother slaved away night and day to feed the royal family while I finished school. And then when I graduated, I would take my place in the kitchens beside her.