Oh My, I Messed Up the Story

Considering the plan was Marcy's idea in the novel, her pessimism surprised me. I wasn't sure what to tell her.

Franz wouldn't want gossip to get out but Marcy had worked with him on this originally...what was I supposed to do? In my plans to get the plot back on track I had mentally separated defeating Sigmund and getting Marcy and Al together.

I thought that as long as both of those things happened in the end it would all be okay somehow.

In this version of the story, the one where I existed, Marcy was friendly with Al and me but she did not know any of the other royalty.

I trusted Marcy because she was supposed to be the main character but Franz didn't.

Then there was her reaction to contend with…Marcy seemed afraid of something. It hit me.

All of their political meetings happened in the safety of Franz's office, not the bustle of the kitchen.

If somehow word got back to Sigmund from one of the kitchen staff everything would be completely ruined. He would nip it in the bud with no one the wiser.

My blood ran cold. I nearly made a fatal mistake.

"Please keep it to yourself. I just wanted to know if it was readable."

Marcy's eyes darted around and she leaned in closer.

"It's readable. Take it and go. But first pretend like you're asking me about something completely different and take some sweets to go so no one suspects you. The two of you have visited enough times that it shouldn't be suspicious."

I wanted to know how someone who was supposedly a simple pastry chef understood the nuances of the palace spy network better than I did but I couldn't ask.

I would have to investigate this more later. Marcy Grandin just became a lot more interesting.

"So do you think you could make a dessert like that?" I asked brightly, making sure I was loud enough for passing kitchen workers to hear.

If they thought I was showing her a reference for a dessert I wanted, it would seem perfectly normal.

"Yes, the blueberries would be a nice touch," she improvised. "I'll get on that right away, Your Highness. In the meantime, please take these gingerbread squares."

Marcy handed me a plateful and ushered us out of the kitchen with a strained smile on her face.

I folded my draft several times before clenching it in my fist. I needed to be much more careful.

Al and I spent so much time alone that I nearly forgot other people might be working for Sigmund in this palace. How stupid was I?!

"That was certainly exciting," Al said dryly as we returned to the library. "Mind telling me exactly what happened back there?"

I triple checked every corner to make sure we were alone before slumping onto a chair in exhaustion.

"I was careless. I shouldn't have involved someone else, let alone in such a public place."

He swallowed his bite of raspberry tart before looking at me questioningly. "Why does this matter to you so much?"

"Why doesn't it matter to you?" I countered.

As much as I sympathized with the commoners in this feudalistic society, my primary concern was getting the plot back on track.

Catherine du Pont wouldn't care about either of those things so I didn't have a good explanation for my obsession.

"Nothing matters to me but our escape to Shibatsu to live a normal life," he said nonchalantly. "You know this already."

I did know that already and it infuriated me to no end. The world had long turned its back on Al so he turned his back on the world.

His mentality wouldn't bother me so much if it didn't personally cause so much trouble trying to put this shambles of a novel back together. Mariela's words came back to me—why bother?

Why did I care so much? Did I think some great cosmic accident would happen if I didn't put things back the way I found them? What exactly would happen if I couldn't fix the plot of this book?

I started reading From Pastry Chef to Princess out of boredom at a doctor's office one day. It was a largely unknown YA novel with a barcode from the public library that I assumed some patient left behind on a table and didn't come back for.

They ran multiple tests/scans on me so I was there for over three hours and got about halfway through it. I finished it at home and brought it back to the library on that stranger's behalf the next day so they wouldn't have to pay a fine for losing a book.

Back then I thought of it as nothing more than a cute, cliché love story with a dash of political intrigue but relatively 2-D characters by a no-name author. I gave it 3 stars on Goodreads.

What a horrible joke the universe had played on me by sending me into such an insignificant novel.

If I had to end up in a strange book world, why hadn't it been Hogwarts?!

I would much rather be one of the many barely-named witches in the background that got to enjoy learning magic without being a central part of the story than end up a princess right in the middle of things.

That was off-topic—my point was, why was I trying so hard to right the wrongs I had created? Why couldn't I simply go with the flow?

Was whatever mystical force that sent me here impressing the importance of plot progression into my mind or something? What would happen if I stopped caring, like Al?

Part of me realized that the only thing really stopping me from doing whatever I wanted and letting things happen was that I didn't want to be here.

Helping Franz ascend the throne would ease my conscience because I already knew Sigmund was a villain.

Putting Marcy and Al together would make me feel less guilty for ditching him and going off to find a job and life of my own in Shibatsu.

Going with the flow…if I did that, I would be stuck here playing cards and finding other ways to entertain Al for the rest of my life when I wasn't stuck socializing with snooty nobles I didn't want to talk to.

What would happen to Marcy? I had stolen her true love! It was an accident but that didn't change the facts. I had to give him back to her.

My suspicions of Al's crush on me grew stronger all the time. If I stayed in the palace for the rest of my life with him as my primary company, I might grow used to his affections.

I mean, the number of books and movies that involved arranged marriages out there…the couple almost always fell in love in the end. That was the last thing I wanted.

As a modern, independent woman, I did not want to spend my life cooped up in a castle drinking tea and producing princelings. If I ever wanted to build a real life here, I had to leave Al behind.

The thought made my chest grow tight. I would probably even miss him from time to time. We had spent a lot of time having fun together. That sort of thing isn't easily forgotten.

He was the most normal person I had met in this world; who knows if I would find another with his sense of humor to be friends with in Shibatsu.

"Katie?"

I snapped out of it. Al was looking at me with concern because I hadn't said anything in a while.

Between his slightly tilted head of mussed hair and my black sweater he looked even more like a normal twenty-one-year old college student. My heart skipped a beat.

"I was just thinking how it would be nice not to care."