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It took me a while to regain my senses and my composure after Gilbert left. Fortunately, this lounge was designed for accepting guests and greeting dignitaries who had just arrived at the palace, so it had an adjoining restroom. I was glad for the chance to check my face in the mirror before anybody else could see me. The telltale redness and puffiness around my eyes wasn’t too bad. Hopefully, a quick splash with cold water would do the trick to keep anybody from asking me about it. I took a deep breath, straightened my back, and returned to the lounge, heading for the exit. The door flew open as I reached for it.
“Clavis!” I exclaimed, jumping backward just in time to avoid the door hitting me.
“Whoa, careful!”
He grabbed my shoulders, steadying me, and his golden eyes narrowed as he peered into my face. I braced myself for an intrusive question.
“Tipsy again? Ivetta,” he chided, drawing his brows together in a look of feigned concern. His wide grin ruined the effect. “Chev will be so disappointed.”
I rolled my eyes and took a step back from him. This was his way of getting my mind off whatever was bothering me, and though I appreciated the thought, I wasn’t a child who scraped her knee. My problems were a bit more serious than that. And the last thing I needed was whispers of a secret drinking problem flying around the palace.
“Why would I be drinking this early in the morning?”
“You know, the first step toward solving a problem is admitting you have a problem,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard me. He slung his arm around my shoulders and steered me out into the hallway. Julius and Byron gave me looks of sympathy as we passed them. They knew as well as I did there was no point arguing with Clavis. He would continue his one-sided conversation, ignoring all my protests and fabricating the responses he wanted me to say in his head, and I’d just get more irritated. The best thing to do was ignore him and have my own one-sided conversation. If it was interesting enough, he’d switch over to it.
“Clavis, do you know what the situation is like in Obsidian?” I asked.
“A little now and then to help relax you isn’t a big deal, and I’m sure Chev enjoyed how adorably clingy you were at the ball, but Rhodolite needs a queen who can walk a straight line.”
Not interesting enough, then. Or he was avoiding the question.
“I know Gilbert still has to deal with the people Chevalier handed over to him for punishment, but I get the feeling there’s something else going on in Obsidian that won’t be as easy for him to handle.”
“Take Sariel,” Clavis continued, his eyes and smile almost too bright. “He has a glass of ale to unwind just about every night with Jin, but he still gets his work done, so there’s nothing wrong with that. Except Jin talking to him about the rest of us as if we were still the little kids he used to play with, but that’s beside the point.”
Or maybe I’d switch over to his conversation. I wasn’t getting anywhere, anyway, and the topic of the princes’ childhood was of great interest to me.
“It’s hard to imagine you all as little kids.”
“Oh, we were the cutest little princes,” Clavis assured me. “Well, except for Chev. He was just a miniature of what he is now. Imagine your mother telling you to go play with your brother, and your brother’s idea of ‘play’ was sword training, using you as a practice dummy. But the rest of us were loveable, normal kids. Especially me.”
I smiled knowingly. “You? Normal?”
“Well…” He shrugged and turned his mischievous grin on me. “Normal is boring. And when I saw how much Sariel and Jin liked to be pranked—”
“Oh, Prince Clavis!”
His expression froze at the sound of that sing-song feminine voice. Lady Simmons, no doubt trailed by her three daughters, the youngest of whom still had her eyes on Clavis.
“And that’s my cue to leave,” Clavis muttered, pulling away from me. I caught his hand before he could turn tail and run. This was my chance to solve his problem and get him back for all the trouble he’d given me in the past.
“Ivetta,” he whispered frantically.
“Prince Clavis, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Lady Simmons said, beaming at him as she rounded the corner. “You always seem to be so busy.”
She was wearing a voluminous red dress again, and her daughters were again wearing yellow. The image of a mother hen and her chicks flashed through my mind. I wondered if I should say something. But how could I suggest they change their wardrobe tactfully without letting on that they looked like poultry? Especially since the youngest daughter had dark, beady eyes, a long, sharply pointed nose, and a significant overbite. And she was batting her eyelashes over those beady eyes, thinking she was coming off as coy, but the strained smile Clavis gave her looked almost painful.
“Well, of course, he’s busy,” I said. “He is Chevalier’s right-hand man.”
“Oh, but he needs time to himself, doesn’t he?” Lady Simmons continued. “Time to relax with someone who really cares for him, someone who’s there to support him in everything he does.”
Poor Clavis. I was enjoying this too much.
“You know, I was just telling him the same thing,” I said, turning my smile fully on him. “Why don’t you take today off to do something fun?”
I half expected a strangled cry for help to fly from his lips when he opened his mouth to speak.
“As nice as that sounds, I have something really important to do, and I’m already late,” he said, ever the perfect gentleman even though he’d obviously rather be anywhere but here.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Lady Simmons lamented. “Perhaps tomorrow?”
“Well—”
“Why not breakfast tomorrow?” I volunteered. “I’ll talk to Chevalier about leaving your schedule open for a few hours.”
“Wonderful! Breakfast it is,” Lady Simmons exulted.
Clavis looked as though he may faint. Or vomit. Or both.
“And you can make breakfast for them,” I told him.
His eyes widened slightly. Lady Simmons’ youngest daughter gasped in delight.
“You can cook?” she squealed.
I could count on one hand the number of times I’d heard her speak.
“Well, he isn’t as good as Yves yet, but that’s just because he doesn’t get as much time to practice,” I told her. “Actually, he loves cooking, and he told me once that his dream is to cook breakfast for the woman he loves every day.”
I almost felt bad for her, but she really didn’t know what she was getting into with Clavis. It would be easier for her to find out he wasn’t the best match this way, instead of ending up in a pit trap in the gardens when he reached his limit with her. There would be far less political ramifications this way, too.
“You’ve forgotten that I was making breakfast for you tomorrow, haven’t you, Ivetta?” Clavis asked, the mischievous glint back in his eyes. “That new recipe you loved so much. I’m sure I can make it even better this time.”
I hadn’t expected payback to come this soon.
“Well, that’s easy enough. We’ll all have breakfast together,” I said, holding my smile while my stomach lodged a formal complaint. “If the weather holds, we can have a garden party.”
Maybe the smell of the roses would temper the smell of whatever slop he created.
“That would be perfect,” Lady Simmons said happily. “Come along, girls. We must tell your father we’re staying another day.”
The youngest daughter batted her eyelashes at Clavis one more time before she took her place in the single-file line of chirping chicks following the clucking red hen. I released Clavis’ hand. His shoulders shook with silent laughter.
“I’m sorry, and you’re welcome,” I said.
“Same,” he said, the single syllable punctuated by a puff of air from a restrained laugh. The sound made me roll my lips inward and bite them to stop from laughing, too.
“Come with me to Sariel’s office,” I said quickly, biting my lips again as soon as I finished to stop from giggling.
“Why? Are you going to invite him, too? Match him up with one of the other two?” he asked, the chuckles slipping through more and more frequently as he followed. “Don’t forget Julius and Byron here are still single.”
“I’m off duty tomorrow,” they both said in unison.
I held in the laughter until we burst into Sariel’s office and shut the door—all four of us. My guards followed when I waved them in. Sariel looked up from his desk, his lavender eyes narrowed behind his thin glasses as he watched Clavis, bent over double and clutching his stomach; my guards, cracking smiles and chuckling softly; and me, covering my mouth as I dissolved into a fit of giggling.
“What has that hellcat done now?” Sariel asked, smiling his thin, frightening smile that meant danger to the instigator.
Clavis shook his head and pointed at me. Sariel’s expression didn’t change as he shifted his focus to me.
“Princess Ivetta?”
“I solved Clavis’ problem with the Simmons,” I said, struggling to regain control. “We’re all having breakfast tomorrow.”
“And I’m cooking,” Clavis gasped out.
The corner of Sariel’s thin lips twitched.
“You know what they looked like, don’t you?” I asked Clavis.
He shook his head.
“A red hen and her chicks.”
He slumped back against the wall and slid down to the floor, his eyes closed and his head thrown back as he laughed. Sariel’s lip twitched again, and he removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. I was sure I glimpsed a genuine smile before his hand hid it from view.
“I hope you don’t intend to spend the rest of the day maligning our guests,” he said sternly.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. I dabbed at my eyes with the handkerchief in my hand—Gilbert’s black handkerchief. That had a sobering effect. “Actually, I want to ask you about something serious, and then I’ll go back to being the perfect princess, I promise.”
Sariel replaced his glasses, all business again as he rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers together.
“If this is getting serious, I’d better leave,” Clavis said, climbing to his feet and still chuckling. “‘A red hen and her chicks.’ Why didn’t I see it?”
I crossed the room to the chair opposite Sariel as Byron and Julius followed Clavis out. His office wasn’t as crowded as Silvio and Theresa had said, but much of the clutter had moved up to my room now. There were still several small crates, packages, and a new writing desk pushed aside in one corner. One massive crate bearing Obsidian’s black crest sat next to Sariel’s desk.
At least I needed a writing desk. And I really wanted whatever was in that crate.
“I assume this has something to do with Prince Gilbert,” Sariel prompted me.
“Yes, it does,” I said, folding the handkerchief neatly in my lap. “I saw him before he left, and I got the impression he expects trouble when he gets back to Obsidian. Would you know anything about that?”
It was a rhetorical question. Sariel’s knowledge was often as astounding as Chevalier’s. He seemed to know everything that happened in Rhodolite and its surrounding nations, and in light of all the trouble tied to Obsidian leading up to the engagement ceremony, he had to know about this.
“Obsidian is known as a nation of sword and steel,” Sariel replied. “And not only because of its warring tendencies.”
“Meaning…?”
He sighed. “Meaning ambition and greed are rampant, and ruthlessness is a requirement for survival, especially for members of the imperial family. They’ve maintained their power through the years by fear, force, and an innate suspicion of anybody and everybody. I’m sure Prince Gilbert has lived through as many assassination attempts as King Chevalier, if not more.”
Well, that explained a lot about Gilbert.
“Thank you for the general overview, but I was looking for something more specific,” I said.
“I cannot give you anything more specific,” Sariel replied, removing his elbows from the desk and returning his focus to the book open in front of him.
“Can’t or won’t?”
His silence said it all. I sighed and looked down at my lap, twisting the handkerchief nervously as I steeled myself for the next topic of discussion.
“Well, in that case, maybe you can tell me about something else,” I said slowly. “After Nokto drank that poison, he developed a really high fever, and he…told me about his mother. He doesn’t know that he told me, and I need to talk to him about it, but…I don’t really know what to say.”
I looked up at Sariel again. His lavender eyes were back on mine, and his smile had vanished.
“You spoke with the king about this?”
I nodded. “He told me more about what happened, but he said it would be better for me to talk to you, since you were so close to them. I know Nokto feels useless because Licht had to protect him, and I know Licht feels guilty about killing his mother, but after all this time, I can’t believe there’s anything I could say they haven’t already heard.”
“Not likely,” Sariel confirmed. “They loved her deeply, and despite her many faults, she loved them, too. In a twisted way, I believe she thought she was doing what was best for them.” He smiled wryly. “They used to fuss and call me a devil when I made them sit still so I could clean and bandage their hands after a beating from her, and then they’d run to her after lessons, chattering excitedly about everything they learned.”
My heart throbbed painfully. “Chevalier said they were exuberant children.”
There was something wistful in Sariel’s eyes. “Prince Licht was the most expressive child I’ve ever seen. He was a bundle of sunshine.”
Chevalier and Nokto had both said something to that effect, too. It was hard to picture the cold, silent Licht I knew as a bubbly, smiling child.
“And then his light went out,” I said softly.
“The moment he killed her. Or shortly thereafter. It was gone when I arrived and found him standing over her body with a bloody sword, with Prince Nokto cowering behind him. I took them back to their room and put them to bed, and neither of them said a word.” He sat back in his chair and sighed heavily. “Perhaps it would have been different if there were some acknowledgement of what happened. But the king didn’t want to put them through an official inquiry and trial, so he ordered it all swept under the rug. The next morning, it never happened. She simply ceased to exist.”
“So, they already felt guilty, and then they didn’t get into trouble, so they felt even guiltier.”
He nodded. “I believe so, yes. It is no use to tell them it wasn’t their fault. Their brothers and I have tried that time and again with no success. The only one who ever got through to them was King Chevalier. Or, rather, Prince Chevalier, at the time.”
“Chevalier? He didn’t tell me that,” I said, surprised. Although that was probably because we crossed the bridge before he could get that far in our conversation last night, and then he had to focus on getting me through my panic.
I’m unsure if he ever said anything specific to Prince Nokto, or if it’s all been disseminated through time spent working together in the same faction, but I know he spoke with Prince Licht at Prince Leon’s request,” Sariel explained. “Prince Licht nearly succeeded in committing suicide via Obsidianite soldiers on Bloodstained Rose Day, and since all emotional appeals had fallen on deaf ears, Prince Leon hoped Prince Chevalier could use logic to achieve what the rest of us could not. I don’t know what he said, but Prince Licht at least stopped approaching every battle as just another opportunity to die, although he is still prone to taking unnecessary risks.”
“Nokto is, too.”
We sat in silence for a moment. I bit my lip, mulling it all over, but this wasn’t something I could plan ahead of time. I just had to talk to Nokto and see what happened.
And then do the same with Licht.
“We’ll resume lessons tomorrow morning,” Sariel said brusquely. “And I’ll have your new schedule done by then.”
“Oh, yes,” I said, startled out of my thoughts. “And thank you for…whatever you did to help straighten everything out. I wish I’d just asked you about the schedule change. That would have saved everybody a lot of trouble.”
“Perhaps, but that is why King Chevalier has ensured there are many checks within your security to catch the failures or missteps of others,” Sariel replied. “Have you two discussed a wedding date?”
Heat rushed to my face. It was a natural question after the engagement ceremony, and I didn’t know how to answer it.
Maybe that could be our gauge of when I’d be ready for marriage. When I stopped blushing at the mere mention of the words ‘wedding,’ ‘marriage,’ and ‘honeymoon.’
“I should get going,” I said, hopping to my feet. “I’ll let you know how things go with the twins.”
Judging by the muffled sounds behind me as I darted out of the room, he was laughing at me.22Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgIqj74yaeX
