The Desire For Tarts

The King simply smiled at her and shook his head, "You seem to be in an even worse mood than usual, my Queen. If you think I would poison you, how about I prove you wrong and test the food that I brought? If you would allow me to do so of course, Your Majesty."

She raised her head and narrowed her eyes at him.

Whenever she had exploded in anger or accused something, he would merely deflect it and downplay it. As if she hadn't done or said anything that would be chargeable to treason or some other crime to the King. Not that she actually desired something like that at all. And she doubted that he would actually accuse her even but this kind of non-reaction always irritated her.

Her gaze dropped back to his hand and the bowl of soup he brought, "No need. If you used the same spoon as I, then I would surely fall sick this time around. You can leave me alone." He didn't leave with her helpful remarks for him to go, then she would tell it to him bluntly now.

"If that is what you wish, Your Majesty. Will you be rested enough to join the dinner later with Lady Duke and Lord Duke?" He stood up so fast that she was almost afraid that the bowl would fly out and spill its contents over her.

But the man didn't do anything like that. He simply returned the bowl and spoon to the tray on the table, his back turned to her as he did so. "Your Majesty?" He prompted her once more for an answer.

"No." She remarked. This event didn't occur during her previous time… because the King had sent Lady Catherine away to avoid her anger and her husband, the Lord followed after. And even though she wasn't really sick—it made much more sense to stay here and avoid triggering too much difference between this time and the last one.

"I will send them your regards then, Your Majesty" At that moment he picked up the tray and made his way to the door, "Please have a good rest, my Queen. I'll send a servant to bring you a meal more suitable for your taste and appetite."

And then he was gone.

She looked at the closed door and barely stifled a laugh. Had he only been waiting for her request for him to leave? Perhaps he really was just awaiting for it. He had already fulfilled the marital duties of visiting her after all. Rosalyn Lockhart calmed herself, looking at the table void of the meal that he had brought her.

Well, a servant would come later so she didn't mind.

Except a servant didn't arrive.

Her eye twitched as she glanced out at the window. The sun was already descending and there was no servant arriving, did the King forget? He probably did forget about it or even decided not to. She sighed and shook her head. It was a little stupid of her to even put a little faith in such simple words.

Rosalyn wished that she could simply request for a servant but most of the servants avoided this area of the castle and only came here to perform the necessary tasks of the day. She propped a hand underneath her chin and sighed, "Perhaps I really should quit ordering the beheading of servants on a whim..." 

A snort escaped her lips.

They hardly died though when the King would pardon them and she would then see the people running and scurrying around when she was in the same room.

Did they honestly think that she wouldn't notice? 

Rosalyn Lockhart threw back her blankets and stood up, a decision coming to mind. "It's terribly boring to simply sit around anyway. I don't need to wait for such servants of his, I'll get my own dinner… and get myself a plate of tarts." 

She paused for a moment.

"Perhaps dinner could even simply be tarts!"

. . .

The Royal Kitchen was an organized chaos, servants left and right would bring out and bring in several dishes. The chefs were in disarray as they produced dish after dish despite the very few number of attendants who will be attending the dinner in the Royal Hall. It was akin to a lavish banquet every night and every day after all.

The Queen did not arrive there.

Instead, actually, embarrassing it may have been to admit—she didn't exactly know every nook and cranny of the castle.

It took her some time to find the kitchen.

It was as if she was lost in a maze.

And when she finally did arrive… She arrived at the servant's kitchen.

And there was only one chef present there, or perhaps it was more of a cook than a chef. 

When the Queen saw who was inside, she nearly had a heart-attack then and there.

A young woman with bright blonde hair and blue eyes was busy stirring over a large steaming pot, humming to herself happily as she was busy preparing a meal. It was the meal that the servants would eat after a long day of hard work. 

"Y-You!" She pointed a finger at the woman, stopping herself at the kitchen's entrance. "Who are you?!" Rosalyn barely held back herself from screaming and stumbling onto the marble floor at the sight of her.

This didn't make any sense.

She was supposed to come here after some more time!

Why was she here already?!

"Ah, Your Majesty!" The young woman looked up in shock. She fumbled away from the pot and nearly prostrating herself to the floor, "This humble servant of yours is called Mary Ann! How may I serve you, Your Majesty?"

Rosalyn Lockhart looked down at the servant on the floor.

What an uncanny resemblance to Alice.

She laughed and wiped some tears in her eyes, relief flowing through her chest. What a cruel joke for someone like her to exist. And at her own castle no less. If there had been no Alice, would this woman be her replacement? Would this be the girl who would seduce the King and her people? The trembling figure on the floor made her think otherwise.

This wasn't the ditzy girl that attracted men to her like honey.

The young woman before her was but a lowly servant.

Calming herself once more, she eyed the servant on the floor. "Prepare me my dinner. Make me tarts…" What was her name? "Stand up and prepare me some tarts, Mary Ann."

"Yes, Your Majesty!" The young woman scurried away to prepare the dessert for her. It slightly eased the tension that coiled on her entire body when she had seen her.

Soon she would have her fill of tarts.

Yes, that was what she came here for—tarts, the tarts would soothe her nerves. With this new time bestowed to her by that man, she would do exactly what he told her before she left that place. She would have a good time.

And what was more good than enjoying tarts for dinner?

She smiled at that thought before it faltered at a sudden realization. What good were tarts and more time if she had no one to share it with?