Grimsby and Carlotta sat in the butler’s private office having tea together. Carlotta was wedged in; it would have been even harder for her to fit if the door hadn’t been left open “for modesty and propriety.” Carlotta had tried not to laugh at that; the dear old Bretlandian gent was never going to change his ways, not at this age.
As chiefs of their respective staffs they often worked late together, revising lists for parties, making sure the right number of footmen were there to serve, and coordinating what they needed to order. The chef usually came as well.
But this time it was just the two of them, and instead of beer or soup or tankards of wine—what most of the lower staff drank—they were having tea. Grimsby had invited her specifically for tea, prepared the Bretland way: in a proper tiny cup, with no more than two lumps of sugar for ladies.
Carlotta sipped it as slowly as she could, since there was actually very little of the hot beverage in its adorably minuscule vessel. Not her thing, really, but as far as tea went it wasn’t bitter and even a little floral. Delicate, like the rose-patterned teacup. Funny how formal and fussy the old gent was!
But once the ceremony of pouring and serving was over, they sat in awkward silence.
“A bit…a bit surprising, isn’t it,” Grimsby eventually ventured.
“With the…” Carlotta moved her hand like a mermaid, back and forth through the water.
“Yes—precisely—”
“And the…” She waved her hand, indicating everything else.
“Yes, quite.” Grimsby leaned forward eagerly.
“Yes, it is,” Carlotta agreed.
They lapsed into silence again, falling back disappointedly into their seats.
“What do we do about it, Mr. Grimsby?” the maid finally asked.
“I really don’t have the foggiest idea. It’s not our place. I have sworn to protect and serve the royal couple; it is an oath I cannot break…”
“Yes, yes, yes.” Carlotta almost used the cup to gesture with, scattering scalding hot tea everywhere. The fine bone china weighed so little in her hand that she had almost forgotten it was there. “But I never signed on to serve an undersea hag, if that’s what, you know…”
Grimsby turned white at the term hag, as if she had mentioned something as terrible as her own unmentionables.
“No, neither did I,” he haltingly allowed. “And she’s certainly not acting like a proper princess…”
“Oh, hush on that. There’s been plenty of warrior princesses in both of our lands, Mr. Grimsby. But she’s not even acting like a proper warrior—or any sort of normal human being—because she isn’t one. She’s like a rabid dog—er, shark—biting everyone and everywhere. Mr. Grimsby, we—all of Tirulia—are in thrall to an evil supernatural being, oaths or no!”
“I think I could forgive whatever she was, if Eric truly loved her.”
Carlotta almost dropped her teacup at this heartfelt admission from the old gentleman’s gentleman. It was only shocking because the very Bretlandian Grimsby was usually as sealed up as a clam when it came to what he felt or believed.
“You’ve been with the prince a long time, haven’t you?” she said softly.
“Well…you know, our careers don’t often give one much time for things like family,” the old butler said mildly. “I care for him very deeply. Like a son.”
Carlotta looked stern. “Then we should let our hearts and souls dictate our actions, Mr. Grimsby, not contracts. There are others who can judge us, maybe, for what we swore and didn’t swear. But they aren’t on Earth, if you see what I’m saying, Mr. Grimsby.”
“I don’t like talk of mutiny, Miss Carlotta—it’s not our place—”
“Oh, heavens forfend, Mr. Grimsby. But if you meant what you said about Eric, I believe there is another…girl…thing…whom the prince might indeed have feelings for.”
“I always thought he did, I always wished that he had…” Grimsby trailed off wistfully, thinking back to earlier times. Then he redirected his attention on the maid. “All right, then. Perhaps if you have something in mind for an…acceptably subtle and appropriate course of action that might benefit our original employer, given the circumstances, well, I might be persuaded to go along.”
“First thing we do is find all the downstairs folks we can trust and put them to work looking for the sea king. As for other ideas…I’m sure an opportunity will present itself, Mr. Grimsby,” Carlotta said, eyes twinkling over her teacup. “It is a very small castle, after all.”