“Why didn’t you have them warm your room?” Prince Joseph asks when he sees me.
I shrug. “It seemed like a lot of work when I was coming here for the night.”
He nods, but he doesn’t seem thrilled with my answer. “There is always someone in the coal room. It’s not a problem for them. You’re the princess. They live to serve you.”
I sniffle as I take off my shoes and shrug off the sweater. Cautiously, I sit on the bed beside him. “Did you know I was bringing bread for you the day you found me?” I ask. He shakes his head. “I was. I woke up early to bake it for you. My parents hoped I would look useful and you would bring me to work here.”
His jaw tightens. He reaches across the bed and cups my cheek. “They should have hoped for better for you.”
“There is one prince,” I point o
