Book 2: Somehow, It's Even Worse

Rose

The butler is in a hurry.

Either he has lots of more important things to do than to walk a pregnant nobody in to see the king, or he just doesn’t realize his legs are a foot longer than mine. I feel like I am running to keep up with him, but then, as I start to tire about halfway to the king’s office, I remember that I know how to get there, so if this butler wants to get there twenty minutes before me and explain to the king that I’m on my way, that’s his prerogative. I slow down before I pass out.

He notices when he gets to the next corner, and I’m not there to turn it with him. “The king is a very busy man,” he says to me.

“I’m sure he is,” I reply with a confident nod. “And I am a very short woman, compared to you.”

He makes a face but refrains from rolling his eyes. He waits at the corner for me, but when I catch up, he takes off again, and I have further proof that it is difficult to teach lessons to grown men.

I wonder