Chapter 1: The Royal Bodyguards Arrive!
Chapter Text
~ Solana ~
There it is. The symbol of an empire, set like a spray of golden bullets in broken glass, frozen in time, piercing a sky stained with winter blue. The wind explodes in my ears and I lean out of the carriage window, with my hands tangled in the rail above my head. The wheels turn like thunder; the road threatens to smash me if I fall—but I can't look away, not here, not now.
I've waited so long, after all.
A gloved hand yanks at my leg, a voice blurs with the endless stream of Gherman words and passersby. 'Solana! Be careful!'
I ignore it and keep my eyes fixed on the horizon. My hand tightens on the railing. The carriage wheels devour the stone and we crest the bridge—Weisburg Palace explodes into colour on the horizon, overwriting every engraving and sepia photograph in my memory with a massive, sweeping stroke of a paintbrush. The skyline. The radial roads and grids like canvas. The hot sunlight glitters on a sea of rooftops, shining like a box of chocolate bars or like a crate of bars of gold. The marble and the gold and the hints of blue crystallise.
Glanzreich.
Everything I've ever done in my life was to get me here. To this bridge, this carriage, this assignment. Every country, every path, every path I razed across the Western Continent, all of it led to this moment.
I'm here.
And I slip back through the window of the carriage again. The chatter pops in my ears like an uncorked bottle of champagne: quick comments, laughter, smiles and glances, like jewels threaded and snapped into place on a necklace, bullets in the chamber of a revolver.
'And she's back!'
'Watch the holsters, please.'
'That reminds me, you double-checked that we've unloaded all the pistols?'
'The ammunition has been placed in separate boxes.'
'The guards are going to have a h_ of a time screening our luggage…'
I judge the timing and drop, landing with a solid thump in my seat and tucking my elbows so I don't hit anyone on the way down.
Elle swipes me across the head and ruffles my hair. 'Whew! When I said "break a leg," earlier, hon, I wasn't being literal, y'know!'
I look at her through half-lidded eyes, unimpressed. 'I'm well aware.'
Chiara flicks her hands out to the side and nearly hits Rin in the head. 'Oh please, who wouldn't be excited?' Beneath the charming smile, she's doing that nervous quivering thing she does, as though if touched, she'll smash into a pane of glass like a hummingbird. 'It's only the palace of the royal family of the most powerful kingdom on the Western C-Continent—'
Rin closes her eyes, and exhales. 'Chiara. I understand that you've been subsisting on coffee and studying for this assignment through the night. But you need to calm yourself before we arrive, or I will have to stab you with a comb laced with sedative poisons.'
'You mean that hairpin is poisoned?! I nearly stabbed myself with it just now—tell me these things!'
Verene laughs. 'All right, let's calm it down a bit. Save the hysterics for when we have cause to be hysterical, everyone'
Yulenka glances down at her. After a silence, she speaks her piece. '…Hysterics are an occupational hazard in this line of work.'
Daphne pulls up her long legs onto the carriage seat and wrenches the heel of her knee-high boot into place. She blows her ragged white hair out of her eyes with a pwoof. 'And so are high heels, but… ugh, we still wear them.'
I cross my arms behind my head. 'All the better for stepping on people's feet with.' But then the window pulls me in like a magnet, and I seize the window frame with both hands as we turn into the latticework of the city streets.
It hits me, flooding my bloodstream like it was lanced into my veins—the sensation of seeing a world come to life like a black-and-white photograph painted in by an artist. The never-ending rotation of carriages and streams of people, the green-and-white striped awnings, the statuesque fountains that hold court over the city, history carved out in stone. Quicksilver floods the marrow of my bones, and I shiver with eyes wide open. It's so real that I can taste it on the air—the reality of coffee, white wine, and cinnamon.
And with a sharp, scraping drift, we veer into a wide street packed with the finest of society, with boutiques and young women sampling the latest fashions, with fine restaurants filled with customers. We pass a cafe with sparkling new windows and two men with black and brown hair hanging up signs outside, and a grand cathedral—and that's when it clicks: that this is Kohl Street, one of the most upmarket streets in Wienner and a thoroughfare of the Kingdom of Glanzreich. Kohl Street is the road to the royal palace itself, a golden band set with the jewel of an empire.
I lean out the window, the wind committing crimes against my hair and laying flashes of silver over the heart of Glanzreich, Weisburg Palace. A towering edifice of ivory and gold that is home to the ruling family of Glanzreich, the fortress of a dynasty that has laid claim to being the strongest military force in this era and a force powerful enough to lead the kingdoms of the Western Continent.
And we are now in their employ. We cannot stuff this one up.
The carriage takes us towards the palace gates and the scenery passes by. I slip an envelope from the bodice of my dress. Paper as rich and smooth as cream and fastened with a seal that could be made of melted gold, for all I know. I take the letter out, yet the words roll across my memory with only a glance.
To the Chatons de Fleur Agency,
As the king of Glanzreich, I invite you to Weisburg Palace…
Every time, I wonder if the words were written in his own hand. And if whether learning to forge the handwriting of one of the Western Continent's most powerful kings could ever serve a purpose, admittedly. My lowered lashes shadow my vision. People always think that we sell the secrets we come across in our work, but they can assume what they wish. We merely learn everything we can because our very lives may depend on it.
It is Glanzreich's great fortune to celebrate another one-hundred years of history, and to celebrate them in a diplomatic event to which the nations with which we have close ties will be invited. However, as much as the kingdom is also blessed with peace and with its next generation of royals—five princes and one princess—I cannot discount the fact that these celebrations will bring with them their own risk.
Thus, after careful consideration, I would have your agency provide security for the royal family of Glanzreich, doubling both as my children's protectors and token representatives of your home countries for the month leading up to the centennial celebrations. I have reason to expect great things from you, as no doubt you yourselves expect a satisfactory outcome from this venture, for all our sakes. We look forward to working with you.
'Viktor… von Glanzreich.' I wonder if he practiced that signature five-thousand times, or if he uses a stamp.
The carriage wheels cross an invisible divide with a jolt. We've cleared Kohl Street and are sweeping into the driveway of the palace itself, a cluster of jewels at the tip of Kohl Street's sceptre.
Elle holds back the curtains, and murmurs. 'I guess this is real, isn't it?'
The palace's shadow floods the road like a tidal wave.
'More real than a bullet to the heart.'
Because it is. Le Chatons de Fleur—we're bodyguards to nobles and royals, we're servants of kingdoms and empires. It's so real, so crystal clear that I can see every fleck of quartz in the stone of the palace driveway, that I can feel the eyes of every single member of the audience of marble statues watching us from the roof. We've worked with many kingdoms—Fonseine, Romano, Beyer—but Glanzreich is in a class all on its own. Wealth. Influence. Military power.
Their king wreaked havoc across the Western Continent at the mere age of eighteen, then reformed his country and military into a literal force to be reckoned with. The eldest prince is a skilled diplomat and a shoo-in for the throne, even despite the rival claims of his brothers. The second eldest is a military man fit to surpass his father; the third-eldest is an internationally acclaimed and widely published scholar; the fourth eldest is wildly popular with the populace, and even the fifth youngest prince is skilled in diplomacy and engaging with other young royals. And need I mention the precious little princess, or their late queen—so popular with the Western Continent that her influence did more for the king's reforms than his armies and generals?
I close my eyes and breathe through the nerves. If royalty had class-structure… then the Von Glanzreichs would be the royalty to rule them all.
No pressure.
My jaw locks into a smile, biting down hard. But pray tell, what personal protection service agency gets to say that they've worked hand-in-hand with the royals of the Kingdom of Glanzreich, after all?
My fingernails bite a row of crescent moons on my palm. Fierce.
No one. Yet. And that changes today.
We all exchange glances. Armed, dangerous, ready to go in our high heels and chosen attire.
I glance around the carriage. Then say. 'Carpe diem, dominarium.'
Everyone cracks a smile.
Seize the day, girls.
And I seize the door handle, stepping onto the pavement with a decisive crack.
The rest of the Chatons spill out of the carriage. We're the collective best of what our agency has to offer—bar two who will be arriving tomorrow. I turn and get my bearings. The scene is enough to make you dizzy, enough to make your head spin as you tip your head back to sight the palace's tallest spires. An ornate tableau of exquisitely carved statues and stonework, a froth of black iron curlicues that comprise the gates, a gleam of gold and mint-aqua that adorns the dome atop the palace like a crown.
'…Uff, I can't believe people live here!' Chiara stammers. '…People do live here, right?'
'Maybe,' Daphne says. 'Well.' She points in multiple directions, and I follow her line of sight. 'The royal family certainly lives here, yes, but the palace has about eight different wings. One for each family member, come to think of it.' Born and bred in Glanzreich, Daphne may as well walk around with a sign around her neck, and be our tour guide and purveyor of random trivia for the month. Sarcasm aside, her knowledge is an advantage that I'm not going to waste.
'…Superb. Just as long as they don't expect us to sleep in the kennels.'
Elle flaps a hand dismissively. 'What kennels? The palace dog probably has its own wing.'
I do a quick headcount. The carriage that followed us with our luggage and belongings has safely made it and is pulling up behind our own ride as we speak. 'So?' I tip my head in the direction of the palace, and hold out a hand. I'd even almost smile, if I was the type. If I wasn't wired enough to burn out every fuse. 'Let's go make history.'
And we cross the cobblestones of Weisburg's driveway. The wind bites my face. I taste coffee and water on the air, and I have to tell myself that we're no longer planning this—we've flipped the switch and we're actually doing it.
Right. No pressure.
I square my shoulders and keep walking. It's simple: gates, and guards who have been told to expect us and should let us through with minimal fuss and complications. One would hope.
I'm already weighing the guards up as we draw near: two men dressed in the formal military uniform of red and black and gold braid, and armed with ornamental halberds.
Elle lifts an eyebrow and remarks, 'Wow. Eye candy before we even get in the gates. Colour me happy.'
I blink. Then drive a hand into her corset stays and hiss, 'You have neither taste nor discretion.'
'I object to both claims and vote wholeheartedly in favour of taking night watch shifts. You'll know where to find me.' As unsubtle as a Columbian can be, but she's not an idiot. She's not so much eyeing the guards as she is weighing them up.
I hold up a hand, and don't slow my pace. 'All right, everyone shut up now, thanks.'
'I am already shut up,' Rin mutters.
'I-It—' I shoot a glare over my shoulder. 'It was a catch-all. Ladies, please. We are not starting out like this.'
'All right, girls, be good,' Elle says cheerfully.
'Be good yourself.'
This the problem when you're working with young and talented people. They're young, and behind the scenes, they've got too much baggage and they're too many hairpins short of a hairdo. I rub my forehead and sigh. At least we're not the only ones. Our royal charges are often a few jewels short of a crown… but it's not as though these princes could be worse than us behind the facades, right?
I turn back around and take stock of the upcoming situation. Like their uniforms, the guards' weapons aren't a subtle choice either. Good for shooing away stray civilians, I suppose, if any unsuspecting trespassers managed to miss that garish shade of red—
'Ugh, this post is so dull! I'm dying here!'
'This is a sacred post and if you don't like it then I'll throw you in front of the next carriage—so get a hold of yourself, Maximilian!'
'…Eh.' It seems that they're impossible to miss on both the audio and visual fronts.
The guard named Maximilian leans on his halberd and nearly topples it, then sighs once he's got his balance. 'Cold, Ludwig! But seriously—doesn't it seem as though whenever we start wishing that something would happen around here, someone appears to spice things up a bit?'
'When you start wishing—and I told you just five minutes ago that we're expecting important guests to the palace to arrive within the hour!'
'Really? Well, jinx in advance! … Who were they again?'
We're close enough that I can wave my hand in an ambiguous gesture and say, 'Jinx indeed. Good day.'
They snap to attention, setting us on equal ground. 'Good day to you too.' Between piercing blue eyes and the kind of haircut you end up with after years at military academy, the guard leading the conversation—the one named Ludwig— is definitely the one I should be paying attention to. 'Do you have business with the palace?' he asks.
'Indeed. The Chatons of Fleur, at the king's service.'
Ludwig nods. 'Oh, very good.' Then he does a double take, and the other guard blurts out—
'Wait — you're girls!?'
Well, that's what I've been told all my life—and I assume I would have noticed if I'd woken up as a member of the opposite sex this morning.
Rin whispers in my ear. 'Did they not read what was on the packet?'
'You mean packaging, and probably not.' Although given that the guard querying looks like he washes his hair in pink paint, I'm inclined to believe that the chemicals must have adversely affected his mental faculties.
I clear my throat. 'Compliments to your optometrist on your powers of observation, gentlemen, but—'
The pink-haired idiot grins. 'Thank you!'
'—but I was under the impression that the palace generally knew what to expect. Also…' I grimace and say, 'Haven't we met? In Fleur?'
'You met these good looking twentysomethings when, exactly?' Elle mutters out of the side of her mouth.
'Long story. And keep it to yourself.'
Let's just say that royals—especially Viktor von Glanzreich, God of War who Conquered the Western Continent—shouldn't be allowed to wander around in public and scare the stuffing out of random girls in Fleur who were just trying to get home from work.
The other guard, Ludwig, the one I am currently inclined to like because he's less of an idiot than his companion, pulls the other guard out of the way and sighs. 'My apologies, Maximilian is always like that. And we have indeed met, and it's a pleasure to meet again. We were also certainly expecting the princes' new guards this morning, but we assumed that they would be…' His brow creases. '…Older? Or something of the sort?'
Then Maximilian snaps his fingers, saying, 'Come on, Ludwig, get a clue! These young ladies must be the princes' latest batch of hopefuls vying for an audience!'
To his credit, after having spoken with kings and consorts and people of every rank and station in between, very few people can strike me speechless and this pink-haired idiot is now one of the ranks.
Daphne rocks back and forth on her feels, opens her mouth, rests a hand on the sheathed rapier hanging from her waist, then takes her hand off again and sighs. She looks like an irritated puppy dog.
'…Sorry, gentlemen,' I say, 'but you're a tad off the mark. We've found that younger staff members are better equipped to work with younger clients.' I hold out the letter of invitation written presumably in the king's own hand and splashed with gold wax. 'We're actually—'
Maximilian smacks a hand to his forehead. 'Oh my gosh, my mistake! You've already got clearance? Then you must be the princes' latest batch of girlfriends and you've—cripes, I didn't think His Majesty signed off on stuff like this—got written permission? Fantastic!'
'This bodes ill on many levels,' Yulenka mutters.
'Omae wa atama ga warui deshita.'
'I have no idea what you just said, Rin, but I concur wholeheartedly with both of you,' I say.
Ludwig delivers a violent stab to his partner's ribs with one hand, chiding, 'Will you stop!?' and I make a mental note to ask him about his technique later. He gives us a once-over, then sighs and glances up at the palace walls. 'Perhaps I better just get Prince Licht down here to sort this out. It's like trying to herd a passel of cats…'
I exhale and count backwards from ten while saying, 'Look, you're very well-intentioned and I'm sorry if our arrival upset the proverbial apple cart of day-to-day affairs, but we are literally the Chatons de Fleur and—'
'Pardon the interruption.'
The sharp clicking of high-heeled boots echoes through the darkened stone arch of the gates. Past the guards' shoulders, I catch flickers of a coat billowing in the wind. 'I apologise for any delay…'
And a new arrival steps between the guards, dressed in academic robes and gifted with the most expressive pair of eyes I've ever seen.
'And if you'd pardon protocol for a moment…' He touches the letter in my hand with a fingertip and brings it down to his eye level, looking the thing over in an instant and reading it in its entirety upside down, before nodding and taking a step back.
He clicks his heels together and rests one hand against his chest, then offers us a formal bow, one that effuses the type of sophistication born of living your life in a role that you were made for. 'My name is Heine Wittgenstein, royal tutor to the princes of the kingdom of Glanzreich.' He looks up and holds out a hand with each finger articulate. He doesn't smile, yet his expression softens slightly. 'On behalf of the royal family, welcome to Weisburg Palace.'
He's also, to put it bluntly, pint-sized.
'A kid professor? Uff, this kingdom is on another maledetto level…' Chiara stammers.
He stiffens so quickly that I swear I hear his spine crack. 'I am not a—' He stops, as though someone just cast ice water on him. He exhales and adjusts his glasses. 'Despite all appearances to the contrary, I am a full. Grown. Adult.' He clears his throat and regains his composure. 'Despite all appearances to the contrary.'
I raise my hands. 'Duly noted. A pleasure to meet you.'
'Oh?' Elle leans down, entranced. 'But the wittle darling's so cuuute—' but I ram an elbow into her solar plexus before she can truly get going.
'My apologies also,' I add, ignoring Chiara's flustered fidgeting at my shoulder.
'Not at all,' Professor Heine replies. 'It seems to literally have become a standard part of the usual introductions.' He rests one hand on his hip and gestures between the two of us, a quiet flick with no movement wasted. 'It seems, however, that we are in the same boat…' He pauses to cast an irritated glance at the two guards at his back. '…In that we've both been subjected to an unfortunate case of being judged by appearances, no? Maximilian, Ludwig, they are indeed the literal Chatons de Fleur. Kindly bid us godspeed and let us be on our way?'
The guards blink. Then throw themselves face-first on the cobblestones with a horrific noise that likely wasn't good for their kneecaps, yelling, 'A thousand apologies, madams!'
We stare at them. I can see Verene itching to poke one of them with the toe of her boot, as though to ascertain whether they're still alive.
'…Not at all,' I finally say. Considering that once I got in a fight with some self-entitled palace guards before I could even get in a palace's gates once, this debacle is a mere hiccup. 'Apologies for the… confusion. Good day. And can I just enquire as to what is to become of our luggage?'
And they're back on their feet in an instant, flanking the gate on either side and offering us passage. 'It will be screened by the Royal Guard and delivered to your rooms within the day, madams. Also, we'll check your papers and your weapons-bearing status, if you would permit it.'
And we hand over our papers for a cursory check against the palace's records—to ensure that we really are who we say we are and all of that, given our… age. We also state and declare what weapons we have on our person, and get permits to bear arms on the premises.
It's laughably stupid. I mask a smirk with a grimace. The only member of the royal family who doesn't permit people outside the Royal Guard to bear arms in his presence is His Majesty the King. The king is so skilled with weapons and warfare that he could very well disarm someone with a touch. Whereas those who do permit arms in their presence are either young, or women, and both parties are typically untrained and in need of protection when it comes to protecting themselves.
But I'm not complaining, because there's money in it—even if the "it" is a staggering amount of royal naivety. I narrow my eyes. And that's what's curious, too.
Why is Viktor von Glanzreich, the god of war and commander-in-chief of the Western Continent's strongest army, bothering with a third-party personal protection agency staffed by women?
I shake my head. It's only day one. Some things are going to have to wait.
On seeing that we've wrapped up organising our affairs, Professor Heine draws his coat about himself and says, 'And I've been sent to escort you to your meeting with the princes, as well as to welcome you to the palace.' His eyes look like amber in the dark. 'So? Shall we begin?'
'We'd be delighted.'
And we follow the little professor through the gates, into one of the most infamous palaces of the Western Continent.
I keep my eyes on our guide's shoulders. But between walking through the dark and listening to the whispers of my girls, I can't help but feel a sudden, brief firework of excitement.
This is it. Everything has led to this. I press a hand to my bodice, to the copper wire ring that I know lies beneath my dress, strung on a chain.
I'm doing this for the Chatons. I'm doing this for a lot of reasons. But one of those reasons is myself. I wouldn't call it anything as noble as a promise, or as generic as a personal goal—it's more like a vendetta. More like pins and a string across a map, across the Western Continent.
More like someone I've sworn to find.
I look back to see the gates slowly swinging shot under the hands of the guards. Maximilian catches my eye, and slings his halberd across his shoulder with a grin, a wink, and a wave. 'Welcome to the madhouse, girls!'
'All right, that's enough—a thousand push ups for that attitude of yours, now!' Ludwig barks.
I lift a hand, in farewell and casual salute. I've learned a lot over the years, but one of those things is that you can never tell whether you'll enjoy your stay somewhere before you go. But I know that I'll always exploit every loophole and facet of a place until the day I pack my things and depart.
And the gates slam shut.
Chapter 2: A Round of Introductions
Chapter Text
~Solana~
'I trust you had safe travels from Fleur?' the little professor asks.
The small talk is stable ground after our rocky start, so I engage. 'Yes. We travelled in by train and came the rest of the way by carriage.'
'I see. And have any of you been to Glanzreich before?'
'I haven't.'
Understatement. Of the century.
I jerk my thumb over my shoulder and say, 'But Daphne has, so she's our resident expert.'
At the back of our group, Daphne awkwardly puts her hand up. 'Hi, that's me. And I'm not really an expert, I just used to… live here.'
Professor Heine nods. 'In that case,' he says, 'you'll all be given ample opportunity to familiarise yourself with both the palace and the palace's immediate surroundings.'
Sunlight burns the edges of the arch, and we walk through into glittering daylight. I shield my eyes until they adjust, then lower my hand.
'…It seems there's an abundance to familiarise oneself with,' I say, looking around at the walls of windows towering overhead and the larger-than-life statues that hold court over the carriages currently on the internal drive.
'It's certainly a lot to take in,' Professor Heine says. 'I would recommend starting small and you'll pick up the rest as you go along.'
He leads us up a marble staircase to a set of doors, and I ask, 'Is the first order of business meeting with the princes?'
By the odd look that flashes across his face, I get the impression that you would not classify the princes as 'starting small,' yet that's the end of the pool we're diving into nonetheless. 'Correct.'
The doors swing open in perfect silence, and we step into another world.
Someone whistles. I'm too reluctantly impressed to single out the offender.
The marble hall has more than five times the floorspace of my bedchamber. A staircase sweeps from one storey to the next, creating an underpass that shelters half a dozen rooms. The chandeliers glitter, the wallpaper glistens, and the maids and footmen tastefully dotted about the landscape probably earn more in a couple of hours than your average person off the street earns in a year.
And this is just one hallway.
'Floor plans,' I manage to choke out. 'I think that perhaps floor plans would be conducive to getting a handle on the layout.'
We follow Professor Heine up the staircase, and he talks over his shoulder as we walk. 'An excellent idea. In reality, it won't take you long to find your way around, and you can waylay any of the staff if you require further assistance.'
We step onto the landing, our shoes clicking their way down an empty marble corridor. Empty but for two guards stationed outside a golden door that seems to be stealing all the air from the room.
Professor Heine draws to a halt, and holds out a hand to the door. 'The princes are waiting inside. I'll be leaving them in your care, as will the rest of the palace for the duration of your stay. On behalf of Weisburg Palace, we look forward to working with you.'
I bow. 'It is an honour.'
We all look at the doors.
I steel myself, and rest my hands on the doorhandles. I almost expected them to speak. They don't, but they give off a metallic chill.
The royal family has everything riding on this working out. That's fine. So do we.
Our reputations, our futures, our honour, our dreams, and lest we forget the most necessary thing of all—payment for a job well done—all of it rests on this assignment, on protecting the royal family's lives. And if we fail, we may as well take a dive off the palace's tallest spire, because if we aren't executed by the king or by the people of the kingdom, then the shame of failing will destroy the Chatons from the inside out and leave us all dead in the rubble.
And I'll never find him.
I clench my jaw against the fizzing quicksilver that threads through every vein, exhale, and push the doors open.
They creak, spilling faded light into a room full of shadows. Four silhouettes are framed against the windows. Living portraits veiled from view, actors waiting for the curtain to rise.
Heaven knows how, but I walk forward. My shoes click over an intricate pattern of marble tiles. I stop before them. My heart hammers, but I refuse to acknowledge it. The other Chatons take their places in a row behind me, and Professor Heine slips in behind us, standing off quietly to the side. We'll be receiving no hand-holding from him.
Good. That's the way I like it.
All that matters right now is this singular greeting, the words recited from a Chaton to any client. I gather the folds of my dress into my fingertips, and dip into a curtsey. 'Greetings. If it is your desire, I will go anywhere for you. I am of the Chatons de Fleur and my name is Solana de la Roux. I am at your service and will remain by your side.'
That used to be the entirety of the greeting—but I changed it, for all of us, determining to never forsake someone the way that we were all forsaken. I lift my head and meet the princes' gazes. 'I will not fail you.'
And the windows slam open.
A windstorm explodes in the room, and I've already dropped into a defensive crouch on instinct, one second away from drawing a knife. 'C'est qu—!?'
I grit my teeth and open my eyes against the blinding light… as the wind dies, leaving feathers scattered over the floor, lightly swirling the curtains in the breeze.
A movement, and I stop with one arm still up to guard my face. I lower one knee to a more socially acceptable bow and lower my arm.
The four princes of Glanzreich each hold out a hand with a smile, all of them so dazzling and glittery that I nearly topple over on the spot. 'Welcome to Weisburg Palace!'
…I can't believe I was literally just floored by that entrance. And no reference to said flashy entrance just now? Okay.
I lift an eyebrow. I guess this must just be how they roll. I swiftly get to my feet, ignore the wish that I was a little taller, and say, 'It is a pleasure, Your Highnesses—'
Then one of them takes my hand.
Blue eyes, bluer than the waters of the South of Fonseine. Blond hair that falls in perfect pieces like the hairstyle of a handcrafted doll. A complexion that girls would kill to have, and what a smile…
And I don't even consider myself susceptible to the charms of appearance. I think this otherworldly level of beauty requires a new adjective in the dictionary.
Oh, and then he talks. 'The pleasure is mine,' he says warmly. 'I'm enchanted.'
Then he drops my hand and places a hand on his hip. 'Okay, enough.'
He clicks his fingers, and the mood freezes.
…My hand is still hanging in the air like a figurehead's appendage.
The prince turns his back and stalks to the window, elegantly taking a seat on the window frame as though it were a gilded throne. He leans forward. His hair falls to frame his face like twin golden knives. 'This is the part where we all rattle off our names and pretend as though we actually give a d_ about this circus act, is that correct?'
Oh no. Oh h_ no. My heart rate spikes, and I risk a glance at Professor Heine out of the corner of my eye—who watches with reserve and nothing more. This… this is normal? I know that sooner or later all our clients drop the act—but like this!?
'…Yes?' I finally say.
The prince sighs, and stretches, lacing his fingers together and limbering up his joints. 'I thought so. Fine.' He licks his lips. I must have been imagining it when I thought his eyes were wide and angelic. They're narrowed like the crack between a sheath and a sword about to be drawn. 'My name is Leonhard von Glanzreich, fourth prince of the Kingdom of Glanzreich. And I don't care if the king or queen or the pope selected your ragtag ensemble of commoners for this position—my brothers and I have burned through every noteworthy personal guard from across the kingdom and the idea of doing this song and dance again is enough to make me sick.' He elegantly gestures with one finger to make his point. 'So if this is going to be more of the same, you can take the next carriage out and it can crash into the nearest fence for all I care. Understood?'
Lord save us. The Eiffel Tower is going to look like a sewing needle beside this boy's pride once it's built.
'Understood, Your Highness—' I purse my lips and give him an even look, '— but not accepted.'
He shrugs with a grin that's polished white with toothpaste flavoured with pure infuriation. 'That's fine. You don't have to accept your inevitable defeat, but—'
'Oh yeah, baby—jackpot! You're all so cute~!' And I'm swept right off my feet without a warning.
I let out a startled gasp. 'C'est quoi ça?!'
And I'm spun in a waltz to face a prince with waist-length blond hair that would make any girl jealous. He kisses me on the cheek before I barely have time to note that he looks as though he merely threw on his clothes after running out of a boudoir. 'We get to work with you lovely ladies for a whole month? Colour me charmed and turned on, and every other colour in the rainbow!' He pauses, his breath sending a shiver down my spine, and gives me a smile that could seduce a statue. 'Enchanté.'
'Your accent could use some work—'
'LICHT!' Prince Leonhard hauls his brother off me like one would yank a wayward puppy back by the leash. 'Verdammt noch mal in die Hölle—do you have to interrupt me every single time!? I swear, one day I'm doing to strangle you with that hair of yours!'
'Ow, ow, ow—okay, mercy, please!'
Prince Licht finally frees himself, and dusts off his trousers. 'Well, I suppose some introductions are in order, am I right?' He jerks his thumbs towards himself with a grin and says, 'I'm Prince Licht von Glanzreich, fourth prince of the realm, loved by ladies all over the Western Continent, and too good for this world. It is a pleasure to make all your acquaintances, girls.' He wraps up his spiel by blowing us a kiss.
I flinch, and I think every single one of us are collectively praying to God and the Virgin Mary and all manner of saints and Yapanese forest spirits that we don't end up as this prince's bodyguard.
'…Likewise,' I finally say. Not! my internal voice shrieks.
'Hey, about that!' Prince Leonhard indicates us all in a sweeping gesture that nearly takes his brother's head off and says, 'Why the h_ did we get sent a bunch of girls?'
I blink. 'Pardon? I thought Your Highnesses were aware that—'
'No, we weren't!' Prince Leonhard snaps. 'We barely even finished sending away the last lot!'
A chill trickles down my spine. You were right, Yulenka. This bodes very ill.
'And besides,' he continues. 'Do we look like we want to waste our time on the specifics of lot number two-hundred and twenty-three?'
'…No, you don't.'
'Exactly, thank you. It's beneath our notice.' He crosses his arms and complains, 'And besides. Our bodyguards up until now were just extras. Cannon fodder. But now we're up to the important stuff—and if all the guards we've had so far were next to useless, how do you come to conclusion that a bunch of girls could do any better? Ridiculous!'
I stiffen. Oh no, he did not just… 'Prince — '
'Oh come on, Leo,' Prince Licht chides, tempering his younger brother's hissing and spitting with a caress and a teasing smile. 'You're taking issue with a 'bunch of girls' moving into the palace? I for one can't care either way, but am delighted and ecstatic that at least if these hopefuls last a couple of days then we'll have something nice to look at in the meantime.'
Ugh. I can't. Someone shoot me now—
And out of nowhere, Prince Licht is walloped across the head and sent tumbling into a dishevelled blond pile at my feet.
'ENOUGH!'
'Oh boy,' Licht mutters. 'Didn't even see it coming this time; I'm losing my touch.'
My head snaps up to see another prince rest a hardback book on his shoulder like a sword, said book having a significant dent in the cover. He glares at Leonhard and Licht in turn. 'I thought the two of you might have matured somewhat over the last year, but your gross inability to engage in social interaction is yet unrivalled.' He sighs and turns, saying, 'Leonhard, would you—'
Prince Leonhard swipes a finger over his lips and stands at attention. 'Shutting up right now, dearest big brother Bruno!' And he tackles Prince Bruno from behind with a laugh, hooking his arms around his brother's neck in a rather energetic hug.
Elle winces. 'Please don't tell me that one of us is going to have to manage both Prince Jekyll and Prince Hyde. The last case we had to deal with was a headache.'
'I think we're going to have to deal with every personality disorder in the book here,' I say, and purse my lips back into a neutral expression
'Oof.' Prince Bruno regains his balance and gives me a smile. 'My apologies for my younger brothers' theatrics. I am Prince Bruno von Glanzreich, the third prince.'
Between his pleasant demeanour and his appearance—polished silver glasses and a thatch of wavy brown hair—it seems that there's a sane one among them and I'm quite relieved to see it. 'A pleasure, Your Highness.'
Prince Bruno staggers, trying to dislodge Prince Leonhard, and gestures in the direction of the remaining prince, who has stood in silence like a pillar this whole time. 'And this the second-eldest prince—Leonhard, I can't breathe—otherwise known as Prince Kai.'
We all turn in Prince Kai's direction.
He freezes. After a long pause, he looks up. Murder glints in an eye drawn in a cold slash, beneath hair that looks like it's been torn up by claws. 'Ni… Knife…'
Someone muffles a shriek behind me. 'Knife!?'
'Nife… Nife to…' He hesitates, then looks up again. He blushes faintly and tries to smile. 'Nice to meet you.'
Wonderful. All of us are going to be too busy being terrified or too busy squeeing over him to work with him. Fantastic.
'Well, you've had the honour of meeting us,' Prince Leonhard says, having gotten off Prince Bruno and assumed a haughty pose with enough elbow room to gesture. 'And now, normally, we would tell you all to get lost and promise to have you kicked out within the day. But…' He runs a hand through his hair. His smile has a hint of irony to it. 'We're not quite that terrible now.'
Professor Heine coughs.
I raise an eyebrow. 'What a shame that we're only forming an acquaintance now; we've missed out on the opportunity to confirm that statement for ourselves.'
Prince Licht laughs. 'Yikes, Leo—she got dancy on you! Burn!'
Prince Leonhard pushes him away and sighs. 'Enough, Licht. Look, my point is that out of the kindness of our hearts, we're going to do this differently and give you all a fair chance. What you do with it is up to you.'
'How generous.'
'I know, thanks. So show us what you've got.'
I blink. Behind me, I hear the faint noises of the Chatons whispering to each other. Show you what we've got?'Pardon?'
He pads over and stands before me, face to face. 'Show us you've got what it takes to be here. I'm not inclined to believe that you're any different from the guards we've had before, but…' He tips his head, staring into my eyes. 'But you never know until you try.'
He steps back and punches his open palm, the crack neatly dividing the room in two. 'It's a simple proposition. Sell it to us—prove your worth within a day, or we'll have our father send you back to Fleur.'
He can't be serious. I know that His Majesty is paying proper money for this—our contract is for an entire month. Four sub-payments in weekly instalments… My eyes widen. Oh. Oh no. Four sub-payments in weekly instalments with the real pay check being handed over on the successful completion of the job. Which means that any one of these royal brats could have 'father dearest' send us to the dungeons whenever it takes their fancy…
But surely the king won't throw the contract just because his boys throw a temper tantrum—
Prince Licht circles me from my blindside, leaning down with a sly smile. 'You were just thinking that our father wouldn't waste the kingdom's tax dollars on this, weren't you?'
'…No, I wasn't—'
He pats me on the head. 'Clever girl. Because let's be real—our family is made of gold. One of these doorknobscould probably pay your wages. You are one of many, many, many others that have come before you.' He narrows his eyes. 'And sweetheart, none of them lasted very long.'
I purse my lips, my own eyes narrowing. 'I wonder why…'
'Gee, I wonder too.'
Prince Bruno leans against the wall, his book under one arm and an unreadable expression on his face. 'I am more willing to entertain this venture, out of respect for my father and for you yourselves as supposed professionals. But Licht is also correct. Our personal guards to date have ranged from tolerable to unsatisfactory, and that was merely in day-to-day affairs, let alone things of significance such as the centennial celebrations. As of yet, I am unconvinced that you… can effectively ensure our safety. You are replaceable, and I would like to see that this is going to be worthwhile before investing any time and effort into you.'
The room frosts over.
I mentally finish the sentence. …Because you're all girls and the idea that a woman can do a man's job better is frankly quite bizarre, and also, I'm the academic type that has a general dislike and/or disinterest in the fairer sex, blah, blah, blah. Blah.
I glance at Prince Kai, hoping that perhaps he might pull something out of the bag. He merely gives us a sympathetic look and says nothing.
Prince Leonhard's lips quirk into a grin and my eyes snap back to the threat before me. His breath tastes like chocolate, with a hint of sugar. 'So? Are you going to take us up on our offer, or are you going to take your belongings and go home crying?'
...Well, this is all shot to bits right out of the gate.
I stare at him, my mind racing at a mile a minute. My eyes flick back over my shoulder at the Chatons. At Professor Heine. At each of the princes.
'What's your answer, Solaya?'
I tilt my chin up. Then snap words together and build into rapid-fire Gherman. 'It's Solana. And we say that we aren't going anywhere. I have to admire your tenacity—but we've worked with royals and nobles throughout the Western Continent, and if we were going to run home crying then it would have been after doing a stint in the Romano palace. You wish to try us by fire? Fine. We will prove ourselves with pleasure, but just try not to set yourselves alight. We will not run, and we will not cry, and it would be my greatest pleasure to make you eat your words… Your Royal Highness Prince Leonhard.' Sparks spill from the very air between us, electricity crackling in vibrating lines, a small smirk on my face and a shameless one on his. 'It is on.'
And to strike while the iron is hot, I pull a folder out and snap it open. 'Right. Brass tacks. The Chatons de Fleur personal protection agency has been tasked with guarding your family's health and well-being for the month leading up to and the time during the kingdom's centennial celebrations.' I hold up the folder. 'We're all pairing up. Brace yourselves.'
'What!?'
'Welcome to the real world and enjoy your stay.' I fold the folder in two, standing my ground. 'Sorry to disappoint you, but unlike your former guards, we're not wallpaper or for decoration. Blending in effectively means that we have to be in the middle of everything with you, whether that means doubling as companions, assistants, acquaintances, or whatever is required to make this work. And that means partnership, not floating around the periphery.'
I look around the room, and hold up the folder. 'These pairings have already been pre-approved and are virtually set in stone. They are not up for discussion. We'll also be taking preparatory interviews with our respective partners—'
Prince Leonhard steps back as though I just said that I steep my tea leaves in the blood of innocents. 'Wait… interviews? Those wouldn't involve "tests" of some kind, would they…?'
I mask a confused look because how the h_ did he know, and lift the folder a little, hiding the pages from view. 'A simple question-and-answer interview, to measure the compatibility of both persons—'
Leonhard's eyes and lips narrow to slits. 'In other words, a competency test?'
'Um—'
'I can't believe you—how could you—you commoners are all the same!' he shrieks.
I stare at him in bewilderment. '…I'm sorry, who gepisst in your melange?'
'Excuse me!?'
'Wow, déjà vu…' Licht says warily. 'On multiple levels.'
I flip the page over and hold up a warning finger to all of them. 'If I may?' Then I start on reading the list of names aloud, setting this massive mess of clockwork in motion.
'Leonhard von Glanzreich and Solana de la Roux.'
And I tap the folder against the prince's chest, finally tipping my hand. 'Let's get along, shall we?'
I was not thrilled to clash so dramatically with my charge right out of the gate, let's put it that way.
He blinks. A very pretty, very stunned statue. Then a heartbeat later he explodes. 'Are you kidding me!?'
'Trust me, I'm simply beside myself with excitement as well.' Then I pivot—because if the prince explodes for real, then I figure I better have my back to the source of the explosion. 'Next. Licht von Glanzreich and Elle Satinwood!'
Elle blinks, then shakes herself awake like a sleepy burrowing owl. 'Oh, that's me.' She strolls over with a lazy smile. She turns heads like always; she looks good and she knows it. She takes her place beside Prince Licht—the two of them look like matching dolls with their golden tresses. They'll probably get along like a d_ house on fire.
Licht sighs, yet his grin is contagious.'And I'm going to be stuck in the company of this lovely angel for the better part of a month? Ah, life is so hard…'
'You poor thing,' she croons, and I feel like shoving them both behind a folding screen. 'I could make you feel better about it, you know — '
'Save it for your interview!' I bark, and find the next set of names.
'Bruno von Glanzreich and Chiara Silvestri!'
'Y-Yes!' Chiara yips, and joins Prince Bruno as fast as her legs will permit. 'It is an honour to make your acquaintance, Prince. I-I've read your work!'
That gets some semblance of interest out of him, and he pushes up his glasses. 'Oh? How did you find it? Are you of an academic background yourself, or…?'
'A-Ah, well, uh…!'
'Next! Kai von Glanzreich and Daphne Dänot!'
Daphe steps past me, a dangerously tall pair of stilettos putting her already impressive height put on the same playing field as Prince Kai. 'A pleasure, Prince. I'll do my best.' She rakes her hands through her hair, and now I see why she said she often drew comparisons to Prince Kai when she lived in Glanzreich—her ragged white hair and lean, lanky build means they could almost be twins.
Kai nods. 'Mm.'
'And next: Eins von Glanzreich and Yulenka Motkovic! Yulenka, you will be travelling to Prince Eins' personal residence, Schwarz Palace. We've been told that a member of Schwarz's household will be personally escorting you there.'
Yulenka—bookending the group like an ebony rook on a chessboard—bows with her skirts sweeping the floor. Even with her hair tied up and her attire being a plain black gown, she's just as stunning as Elle, even more so because of her untouchable demeanour. 'It is an honour, Your Highnesses.'
'Next: Adele von Glanzreich and Rinako Kimura!' I glance at my notes, then say, 'Rin, you will be introducing yourself to Princess Adele in your private meeting, as the princess is exempt from participating in formal scenarios such as these due to her age.'
Rin nods, then turns to the princes and bows formally with her arms at her sides. After a moment, she straightens and tips up the brim of her hat, with care for any weapons hidden underneath. 'It is my great privilege, Highnesses. Let's get along.' If her feline, jet-black eyes and beige skin didn't give her nationality away, her lyrical Oriental accent does. Prince Leonhard's eyes widen and Prince Bruno's eyebrows shoot up. But even a reaction as mild as that is to be expected, given how little the worlds of the Western and Eastern Continents overlap.
I go to close the folder, only for Prince Leonhard take hold of it and stab the page with a finger. 'Wait, didn't you miss one?'
'No, I did not.' I hold out a hand and say, 'This is Verene Pussler, the literal spare in the adage, "always carry a spare." She'll be on hand to run messages, coordinate affairs, and is our all-around talented and lovely errand girl.'
Verene looks up from putting up her wave of red curls for the nth time this day. She gives us a smile. 'Charmed, I'm sure. I'm the team's jill-of-all-trades, as it were.'
'Jill? I thought you said your name was Verena,' Leonhard says, looking confused.
'Verene,' I correct.
'I thought that one over there was Verene.'
'That one is Daphne—for St. Peter's sake, we just spent the better part of ten minutes introducing ourselves!'
He flails one arm in exasperation. 'All right, all right! Someone better write all that down because I'm not going to remember a word of it!'
'Prince…'
'I could write up a name chart?' Verene offers.
'Yes—'
'No!' I protest. 'Don't make it easy for him!'
'I'll tell you an easy way to get us to learn your names, girls,' Licht offers. My eyes widen in horror as he says, 'Just write them on your—'
'Licht!' Bruno hauls Licht away and slaps a gloved hand over his brother's mouth. 'I specifically told you to leave your appalling manners back in your chambers, you blithering fool!'
My mouth seems to have fallen open somewhere in the last couple of minutes. I quickly snap it shut, snapping the folder shut as well. 'And that is the end of it. The Chatons' director will be arriving tomorrow after finalising affairs at the Chatons' agency.'
Prince Leonhard places his hands on his hips and says, 'Provided we don't kick you out, or she'll be collecting you pathetic kittens from a cardboard box out on the street.'
I narrow my eyes. I'd almost forgotten about his demand—that we prove our worth or be evicted from the palace. My patience is wearing thin, and I phrase my words with as much delicacy as my frame of mind will permit. 'Congratulations, you know that chaton means kitten in Fonsein, and used it in a sentence and everything. Gold star for you.'
Horrified whispers explode at my back. And I realise that I my brain had yet to catch up with my mouth. I got more than merely carried away—I may have just signed my death warrant in a retaliatory fit of temper.
But the prince merely grins. 'Thanks! I've nearly mastered the Fonseine language! Not bad, huh?'
I stare at him. Prince Bruno coughs. Prince Licht suppresses silent laughter. 'Wonderful, Prince,' I say. 'Once you've mastered modesty, try learning the language of sarcasm.'
He stops, and his eyes narrow in return. 'Wait a minute… Anyway, you're trying to change the subject!' He smirks, and a deadly glint lights his eyes. 'You can play around with your little clipboard all you want, but it can't change the facts.'
Prince Leonhard steps back, the four brothers collectively making up a united front. 'You've got one day to win us over, and if you fail to convince any one of us…' Leonhard flicks a finger across his neck. 'Out the doors you go.'
And I realise that despite having worked with merchants, bounty hunters, nobles, and royals from all over the Western Continent, these princes are going to be a wall that will be almost impossible to break.
'Agreed. But if we live up to your oh-so-lofty expectations, then we're going to be working together. Both of us have everything on the line for this—your family, our business, and this kingdom—and the only way this is going to work is if we can get along. So if we stay, then you've got to get onboard the teamwork train. No arguments.'
The princes consider, glance at each other, then nod. 'Fair enough,' Prince Leonhard says. 'After all…' He cracks his knuckles, saying, 'If anything, if you survive today, then the rest of the month should be a snap.'
Oh dear. I think I'm going to need a coffee before this one.
Leonhard holds out a hand. 'Shall we go?' he asks, watching my every move and breath.
I watch him. Then I briefly place my hand in his as we step towards the door. 'As you wish, Your Highness. No time like the present.'
Despite everything, despite the stakes and the fragile, crumbling cliff we're walking—reality burns in my head like a marching song. Nothing like this has ever been done before—in royal circles or in the personal protection industry. Things are going to go down here, no matter the outcome.
We fall into rank, walking towards those golden doors. This palace is our parade ground and this procession is a series of contrasts, of royals and soldiers. One chance, for all of us; a million chances, for things to go wrong.
I risk a glance at Prince Leonhard at the same time that he risks a glance at me. Electric blue eyes, reflecting my own cat-like ones framed by tousled hair back at me. We could be a dynamo—if we don't kill each other first.
Professor Heine falls in beside us, keeping step with Leonhard and I. 'The best of luck, Madmoiselle Roux.'
I'm about to thank him, when he adds something under his breath, looking straight ahead. '…I think you're going to need it.'
I pause for a split-second. Simple words, but they're… unnerving. But I don't lose my nerve that easily. 'Thank you—but I don't believe in luck.'
For the briefest moment, a something like a half-smile flickers on his face. 'Then I simply wish you the best.' Then his expression blanks, and he raises an eyebrow slightly. So you will have nothing to fall back on or blame if you lose?
My eyes narrow the barest of fractions. Sir, I'm not going to lose today.
He says nothing. Recognising my unspoken words and nothing more.
I didn't get this far by losing, and I only got this far by being 'fierce.' By being smart, and opinionated, and loud, and by getting my feet stuck in other people's doors—by chasing one person across the Western Continent and tracking them like building an elaborate cat's cradle.
Prince Leonhard and I push the golden doors open with a slam, and even as the sound echoes, I'm already steeling myself for what's to come.
We could do anything. We could shake this kingdom up, we could set this city ablaze, and bring the chandeliers crashing down in a thunderstorm of shards.
This kingdom, this palace, and this family—they're symbols of this world, of this time. Of a change for the better. We can't let them be destroyed. And even if only in a narrow window of time, we could make even more changes for the better, changes that this world needs—engraving emblems in gold and splashing words in red paint on the brick walls.
We could make history.
I reach up to catch the sunlight that streams in crystal-spattered rivers above my head.
So look out, world.
It's time for a lesson.
Chapter 3: Interview with a Proud Prince
Chapter Text
~ Solana ~
Solana de la Roux. A lady of Fonseine blood, she is one of the founding members of Le Chatons de Fleur. Guard of royals, experienced bounty hunter, skilled with blades and poisons and the art of subtlety…
And currently power-walking down the halls of Weisburg Palace because this prince walks too damn fast.
I swear, we barely got out of the sitting room and he's already a mile away.
Also—subtlety, my foot. I'm firing our writer.
'Prince!'
Prince Leonhard skids to a stop. He turns around. He places a hand on his hip. 'What?'
I grimace. Someone find me a loudhailer; I feel as though most of our conversations are going to be conducted at long range. '…If you would be so kind as to slow down, Your Hi—'
'Slow down?' A disbelieving grin spreads across his face, and he points a thumb at his chest. 'Do you even know who you're talking to? I'm Prince Leonhard von Glanzreich; I've taken the first place in the junior track-and-field fifth division three years in a row! And if you can't keep up with me, then you've got no business being my guard!'
And the sound barrier shatters.
Prince Leonhard blasts down the corridor; the resulting windstorm swings chandeliers in a violent cacophony of crystals and nearly knocks me off my feet.
I drop into a running stance and streak after him. It is on.
I blitz over the carpet and hurtle down the hall, pinging around maids and footmen like a bullet in a house of mirrors. I take a corner so hard and fast that I leave burn marks on the carpet.
A marble staircase rushes up to meet us. It's the same one that we ascended earlier to meet the princes. Time slows, shuttering like a camera flash. I see Leonhard's eyes flick down to the hallway that passes beneath the stairs.
So when he takes the steps, I vault right over the railing—free-falling even faster than he can run—and plummet through a dizzy blur of gilded portraits and art nouveau wallpaper.
I catch his eye and he nearly trips from the shock. Then the world starts spinning again with a crack of shoes on walls and railings and marble, and I block his path with arms outstretched, having made it over an imaginary finish line beneath the shadowed recesses of the underpass.
He reaches past me; I counter it, and we catch each other's moves in a blur of movements, like two children windmilling their arms in a fight. Our palms connect with a crack and our fingers lock together. Both of us hiss and snarl with with barely repressed rage.
'What the—no fair!' he protests. 'You commoners are all the same and so help me, you're even more infuriating than Heine and you are the worst!'
I blink. 'Come again? Who now?'
He pauses. Then says, 'Oh look, there's a cat dancing the pasodoble.'
I whirl around. I blink. 'Eh? Wait, what?'
Too late, I spin back around only to see him sprint past as though running for his life. It only goes to show what a madhouse this place is that I took him seriously.
I shake my head and charge after him, yelling, 'Get back here, Prince!'
He spares a glance over his shoulder—nearly wiping out on the corner—and sticks his tongue out. 'Make me, brat!'
I take the inside, dive past, and spring up beside him. 'Who's the brat, exactly?!'
We blaze down the hallway like two bullets fired from double pistols, snapping at each other all the way.
'Well, you can keep up with my sprint! Not bad, commoner!'
'Do you have an inferiority complex?!'
'What the heck is that supposed to mean?!'
He pulls ahead, but I pump my legs harder and stay hot on his heels. 'What do you think it means?!'
'I think it means you're a royal pain in the neck!'
'Leaving aside the irony there—why are we even running?!'
'Because we can—oh wait—'
He stops and I smack right into him.
'Guh!' Stars spin in my eyes. I barely manage to stay on my feet. 'Ow… my nose…'
He considers our surroundings, then points past me. '…I'm pretty sure my room is back there somewhere.'
I stop rubbing my nose, and stare at him for a moment. 'So in other words, we ran past it.'
'Yeah. Come on.'
I fall into step behind him. The seconds tick by. If I haven't thought of a response to that by now, then I never will. Then a comeback pops into my mouth. 'My,' I say behind one hand. 'I can't believe that a royal could get lost in their own palace…'
'I was not lost—I overshot and there is a difference!' Leonhard sighs and flicks his bangs out of his eyes. 'I was temporarily unsure of my location, if you want to get really specific.' He smirks, and turns off into a side corridor. 'Impressed with my vocabulary? Such an honours student, I know…'
'How do you ever find time to balance your studies and athletics?'
'It's hard, but I make it work.'
'The pressures of being a young and talented royal…'
'Tell me about it—Ah,' the princesays, and pushes open a pair of towering white doors adorned with gold. 'All right, get in here.'
I sigh and follow him in. 'As you… wish…'
What is this… a grand ballroom? I stand in the doorway, taking my eyes off the prince for a moment to take in the vaulted ceilings, the decor, and the sunlight flooding the room. I should be used to large rooms by now, but these ceilings are something else.
I smooth down my dress and head over to join him. Everything is so elegant and picturesque that I almost don't want to walk into the room and spoil the view. And the sofas almost look like you shouldn't sit on them. I gather my skirts so that I can take a seat as gracefully as possible once the prince has taken his—
Only to take a throw pillow to the face as the prince to sprawls out facedown on the sofa, with complete disregard for furnishings or manners. I raise a hand. Lower the pillow. And spit out a tassel.
I glare at him.
He swivels and sets his feet on the floor, and points at the opposite sofa. 'Sit.'
'…Thank you.' I do as he says.
With a sweeping hiss, the chamber doors are shut.
I rest my elbows on the pillow and bite the tip of my fingernail. Given that this day began with an explosive tête-à-tête and continued with an impromptu race, I can't help but wonder if that was the tip of the iceberg or the dramatic opening act of a play.
I watch the prince, and sit my clipboard on my lap.
While news and gossip and information about the royal families of the Western Continent is hardly scarce on the ground, one can only learn so much by research. But research we did. And as we got closer to the time, we were given documents—primers, as such—by the Von Glanzreichs themselves. The papers mingle with my own notes. Reports, photographs, newspaper clippings, and the like. Prince Leonhard von Glanzreich, the fourth prince, loved throughout the Western Continent for his beauty and nicknamed the White Lily of Glanzreich.
I glance up. Pretty though he maybe, his countenance is spoilt by the unpleasant look he's sending my way.
I lower my eyes again. A handwritten note appears amidst the papers, one that concerns my prince and one that's given me pause every time I've seen it. One written in a neat, looping font. Handle with extreme care. A warning usually given in reference to clients who have suffered past trauma… such as shell-shock or abuse.
I look up. Despite his sweet, doll-like appearance and complexion—he's got a glare that could shatter diamonds and a scowl that would make the Snow Queen jealous. He seems fully capable of taking care of himself. So why that particular warning?
I suppose the only way I'll find out the truth is by getting to know him better. I clear my throat, and cycle through some conversation starters.
How's your day been going?
You look like someone I know…
Want to share your deep, dark, traumatic secrets with me? Gents first—
'Stop staring.'
'Pardon?'
'Stop staring. It's annoying me,' he says slowly, as though pronouncing it syllable by syllable will help it get through my fluffy hair and into my ears.
'Pardon me, then.' I rest one finger on the clipboard. I purse my lips. 'Forgive my asking, Prince, but… it seems as though you dislike me for some reason?'
He rests one arm on the back of the lounge and scoffs, flicking his hand. 'Well, obviously!'
'Would you care to elaborate?'
'Do I even need to? You'll just be like all the others—we've had countless guards, and without fail they've all failed or disappointed. If I have to do this song and dance one more time then I think I'm going to be sick.' He kicks the heel of his boot against the sofa in rapid beats of punctuation, before ramming a full stop into place with enough force that the upholstery rips.
I make a mental note to avoid those boots in any future altercations.
'And besides—you're a girl, and a commoner, and a bodyguard!' He slams a fist down on the coffee table, positively bristling. 'That's three of my five least favourite things, and if you were carrots or bell peppers as well then I wouldn't be able to stomach even being in the same room as you!' he yells, and there go another two rips in the upholstery.
…Damn, I'm going to be hard-pressed to win this one over in the span of a day.
I double-check that I heard all of that correctly, then say, 'Which of those three things is the biggest problem for you, Highness?'
He blinks. '…That you're a girl, by far.'
I pause and give the matter some thought.
While most people are aware of our policies when they hire us, it was obviously beneath these princes' notice to give themselves a heads up about what to expect from their new guards. But I wonder what exactly caused this prince's deep and abiding dislike of girls, however? Could it be a lack of female influences in his life? Or perhaps it could be the opposite, and he has a difficult relationship with the queen mother? Perhaps the issue could even stem from a problem that's romantic in nature. Indeed, perhaps he's been trapped in a royal engagement...
'Your Highness, why—'
'I don't understand girls and therefore I can't trust them.'
And there goes all my theories out the window in smoke.
I raise an eyebrow. 'Your Highness, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about the fact that I'm a girl.'
'You could leave,' he says pointedly.
'I shall not. You said we had one day to prove ourselves and I fully intend to make the most of the opportunity.'
He sighs and drags one of the throw pillows onto his lap. He toys with one of the tassels. Is it just me, or does he look… melancholy? 'Have fun trying.' He rubs the gold threads between his fingertips, and the ends fray a little. 'Tutors… bodyguards… commoners… They always leave, and they're all the same.'
A silence descends on the room. And I don't break it, because I don't know what to say.
But the silence is broken anyway by a knock on the door.
'Pardon me, Your Highness!' A maid slips into the room, and delicately places a tea tray on the table. 'I was told to bring refreshments for you and your guest.' She indicates each item on gold-rimmed china plates with dainty fingers, twin corkscrew curls bobbing about her face. 'Here we have Zächertorte—a chocolate cake with apricot jam—and Döbos Torte—a caramel cake with coffee-flavoured cream—as well as a Fonseine treat, madeleines. And we have melanges for both of you, Glanzreich's most popular coffee.'
'Yay, dessert!'
I do a wild double take. Gone is the enraged, proud fourth prince, and here in his place is a boy who looks like he just got a candy store full of puppies for Christmas. Which wouldn't be entirely unrealistic, as it's rumoured that Princess Paolina's mother gave her a dress made entirely out of diamonds for her birthday once. Young royals seem to be a pampered lot…
But to return to the split-personality prince, I whisper to the maid, 'I-Is this real? What… happened?'
I point at the prince, who's currently humming a happy tune that goes along the lines of 'Tor-te, tor-te~! So sweet!'
The maid looks up and laughs. 'Oh, Prince Leonhard is a big fan of desserts. You could call it his defining trait.'
Leonhard dramatically points a fork at her and says, 'My defining trait is fencing. No, wait…' He points to himself and says, 'My defining trait is my face, followed by fencing, then followed by my love of desserts. You were close.'
She smiles and tucks the empty tray under her arm. 'Indeed I was! Enjoy, Prince, Fräulein.'
'A-Ah, thank you.' I turn around to catch her before she goes. 'It looks sumptuous. Could I ask your name?'
'O-Oh, of course—Helene!' She bows, and backs out of the room. 'Please enjoy!
I turn back around to face the prince. I snigger. 'Are you quite serious? Your defining trait is your "pretty face"? One would think you were a princess…'
'I'm not a girl!' He throws up his hands in disgust. 'Do we seriously have to bring my nightwear choices into this! I like what I like, and if it fits, it fits! Jeez!'
'You were the one who brought it… up…' An image of him dolled up in some ridiculous piece of nightwear pops into my head, and my lips twitch. You and your client generally end up seeing each other in all manner of dress during an assignment, merely due to living in close quarters. Some get more carried away than others—like Elle, who will probably be able to tell me what colour her prince's drawers are by the end of the month. I wave away the thought in disgust and take up my coffee.
Prince Leonhard already has his plate of Zächertorte in his lap. He sees me take a sip from my melange and says, 'What? Starting with coffee?'
'The scent cleanses the palette. So does the taste.' And I just like the taste of coffee, but that's irrelevant.
Prince Leonhard pauses. Then picks up his coffee and breathes in the scent, before quickly putting it down again.
'You don't like coffee, Highness?'
He scrunches up his nose and shakes his head. 'It's too bitter. Licht can make a really good Käiser Melange, but…' The prince grimaces. 'It's not like he can do that anymore…'
I wonder briefly what he's talking about, then cut a wedge from my cake with my fork. It cleaves the gooey, rich caramel, and cuts the coffee cream in fluffy waves. I take a bite, and my eyes widen with pleasure. 'Mm! The bitterness of the coffee balances the sweetness of the caramel so well! And the whipped cream is the perfect touch!'
'I know, right?' The prince's face has a sugar-induced glow to it, and he gestures with his fork between each mouthful. 'The richness of the chocolate, and getting just the right amount of icing, and the build up of flavour between slices…'
We take a moment to appreciate the sugary goodness. I'm fairly certain that if I didn't have a job in Fleur then I wouldn't mind moving here.
'Hey. What's your favourite dessert?' He sounds disinterested, but he does glance at me.
I pause. But it's the first time he's talked to me of his own accord, so I may as well humour him. 'Macarons. They're like little shells with cream, like so.'
'Mm… Ah, like sandwiches?' I nod, and he says, 'We tried those when we were in Fonseine the other month… Ah… the desserts in Fleur were so good…'
'I live in Fleur.'
He stares at me as though I just announced that I hail from Mount Olympus. 'What?'
'I live in Fleur,' I say, and I take great pleasure in over-enunciating it like he did for me. 'Our agency's office is in Fleur. We even have a bakery just down the street.'
'You can have those desserts all the time and whenever you want and you left?! Why the heck did you even leave?!' he protests.
'Because of my contract with Glanzreich?!' And on that note, I recall why we're here. I set down my empty plate. 'For that matter, while that was enjoyable, we are not here to have a tea party. Let us return to business.'
His face falls, and he reluctantly sets his plate back down on the table too. '…Fine.'
Oh great. It seems that he either has an aversion to work, or the positive effects of sugar on his body only last for so long. Either way, I think he's back to his temperamental self. I mask a sigh.
'It is just a simple question-and-answer test—'
'That is not the way to sell me on it! I hate tests!'
'A… pop quiz?'
'Bzzt—wrong answer!'
I pause. Then I close my clipboard and set it on the chair beside me. 'Fine, let us merely have a conversation then, if conversing with commoners is not too far beneath you.'
'You're so far beneath me that I'm inclined to use you as a footstool, but that sounds… doable.' His arms are tightly crossed, but his shoulders lower a fraction.
'As you wish.' Thank goodness I've done this routine so many times that I know it by heart. 'All right, let's begin. Just a few simple questions.' I hold up a finger. 'If someone attacked you, what would you do?'
He fires right back. 'I'd run away.'
'Why is everything about running with you?'
But as the point of this arrangement is to keep these princes alive and well, that's actually a passable answer. I suppose.
But then he fiddles with his bangs. 'Well… maybe. I've been trying to work on that so… I'd probably run, but not run away… Gah, I can't explain it.'
For curiosity's sake, I ask, 'And what if you couldn't run away?'
He stares at me. And the silence lasts for a second too long. I flush, and say, 'Never mind. We're getting off track.' I recall the next question, but the prince interrupts my train of thought.
'Was that the right answer?'
I stop. 'There is not a right answer, as such. These questions are all subjective. This is merely a way for us to get to know one another better and to get an idea of how well we'll be able to work together.'
'Then couldn't we talk about something fun?' His eyes are so wide and big that it instantly reminds me of a puppy begging for treats.
'…Unfortunately, we are not here to have fun, Prince. We're here to establish a mutually beneficial relationship. Let us continue.'
'Right…'
'Next: Say there was a problem, and I was there with you. Would you let me handle it, or would you take it into your own hands?'
He frowns. 'What kind of problem?'
'Security breach. Runaway carriage. Pushy members of nobility. Whatever you can think of that constitutes as a problem.'
'I have a completely different idea of problems than you do—mine mainly consist of losing my diary; forgetting to get changed for lessons, or flunking a math test.'
'…Let us perhaps focus on my idea of "problems" for the time being, then. What would you do, let me take care of it, or try to take care of it yourself?'
He stares at me, bewildered. 'How am I meant to know? I don't know anything about you.'
It takes me a while to come up with a reply to that. I'm so floored that he may as well have pushed me to the marble. 'I'm your personal guard. Entrusted with guarding your life and—'
'Not quite yet,' he reminds me.
'Not quite yet, no. But if I can convince you, then it will be my job to guard you from any threat. I have trained for this.'
'Hm…' He crosses his arms behind his head, and sighs. 'I guess if it's your job, then it's your job, right? So I don't care.'
While the answer is not unsatisfactory, I'm not really satisfied. 'Good enough. I merely wish to know if you'll be throwing yourself into danger on a whim.'
He stretches. He looks a little annoyed. 'So bossy.' But then he answers my question. '…I don't know. But I've had enough danger to last me for another couple of years, so I don't think so.' He tilts his head. Glances out the window. 'And… I guess it would be nice to know there was someone there to step in, if needed.'
Without realising it, my fingers have tightened on the edges of my clipboard. What… has this prince gone through to prompt answers like that?
More accurately, what's been happening in this kingdom?
'And lastly… What do you want out of this?'
He blinks. 'What?'
'Who do you want your guard to be? A companion? An assistant? Something else? I'm not merely going to be sitting in the corner like a vase. We're going to be in each other's space for the next month, so we should set up a relationship that suits your needs and tastes.'
'What do I… want… huh.' He bites the tip of one gloved finger, and gives it considera'I guess I'd want it to be someone I'd have fun with.'
Fun? This again?
His expression brightens a little, in increments. 'It'll be fun to have some new people in the palace, I guess. And if we were going to be stuck together for a month, then we could do some different things together. You like sweets, and you can run decently, at least. Do you like riding?'
My brow is creased with confusion. 'I'm… passable at it.'
'Hunting?'
'That I can do—I've trained in marksmanship.'
'Soccer?'
'I'm not exactly an athlete, but… it's just kicking a ball around, no?'
He hesitates. Then gives me a smile. 'I guess… This might not be terrible. Maybe.'
I don't want to, but I have to burst his bubble. 'I am sorry, Your Highness. But as I said earlier, we are not here to have fun. We're not playmates. We're an employer and an employee—my task is to guard you, and I can't do that if we're playing games.'
That and I don't want to waste my time playing games. I have better things to do with my time than cater to his ego and childish whims and fancies.
'I see.' He gets up, and walks over to the window. He laughs bitterly. 'I was right, you're all the same.'
I join him. 'I don't follow, Prince.'
'All our guards have failed spectacularly so far. They were the best or the brightest, and some of them did last longer than others. But thing is… they didn't care.' A strange expression twists his lips. 'They were here for the pay, or for our father's approval, and not one of them saw us as anything more than a client.' He laughs, a low note. 'Déjà vu.'
'Déjà vu?'
'Guards, tutors, commoners, you name it—they're practically all the same. Look, do what you want. I don't care.' He lowers his voice. 'I just don't see any reason why you won't go the way of all the others.'
I purse my lips. I need to think of something I can say to convince him.
Trust me, I'd be his 'play-mate' if it convinced him to say yes, save but for the fact that friendships and emotions are dangerous in this business. Friendship, attachment, and even romance on the side, however illicit—all of those are like fire. Powerful, but dangerous. And in this world of guards and principals, emotions are like a firecracker in a room full of powder kegs.
There are two types of relationships in the world of the personal protection service. Fake relationships are tolerable. Genuine ones are a death warrant.
And he's genuinely asking me to sign my own.
Then I realise something. 'Prince, just now you said, 'practically.' Was there an exception to the rule?'
He starts. Then considers. '…You could say that.' And he smiles a little, fingering the bangs that frame his face. 'We had all the royal tutors at the palace run the gauntlet for years. That's why I was saying "déjà vu". And then we found Heine—someone who actually cared about us. He proved that not all tutors had to be the same.'
Leonhard opens the window and leans out. The breeze ruffles our hair. I stare out at the view, at the skyline of Glanzreich.
'Prince,' I say. 'I do not merely say what I say for the sake of it. Forming friendly attachments and relationships which have no bearing on our work can put our clients in danger. It complicates things no end.'
'You're just saying that because you don't like getting close to people.'
I look at him. Did I hear him right?
'What?'
'Am I wrong?'
…What absolutely kills me is that he isn't.
It's not merely my work that's taught me to keep my distance from people. It's that I taught myself again and again over the years, refreshing an old, painful lesson. The lesson that emotional connections are dangerous. I'm a girl made of burning ice, clothed in skin, and like the Snow Queen, I keep everyone away. Yet despite frustrating and ticking people off over the years, it's never been a… real problem before.
Not all bodyguards hold themselves to the strict standards that I do. But as history, experience, and heartbroken bones at the bottom of wells will testify—those who don't very rarely survive.
'You could be the best in the world,' Leonhard murmurs. 'But if your heart's not in it, then what's the point?'
'One's heart and one's feelings compromise situations, Prince.'
He turns to me and presses a hand to his chest, over his heart. 'Yet how can you do anything well if you don't even care about what you're trying to do?'
'Feelings and caring are different—'
'Are they?'
Are they?
Because when you care, you feel—even if those emotions are as unsavoury as anger and revenge.
I chew the edge of my lip. Then speak. 'You say that this Heine of yours changed your mind about tutors?'
He nods, a questioning tilt to his mouth.
I splay my fingers over my chest. 'Then let the Chatons and me change your mind about bodyguards. Give us a chance, and I will endeavour to live up to your expectations.'
'And what makes you think you'll be different, Solana?'
My teeth nick my lip. Because I'll do whatever it takes to achieve my goals—even facing my own heart. After all how hard can it be?
'Because I believe that the Chatons care. And if your concern is that we are emotionally invested in this, then I will devote myself to living up to that request.'
'Heh.' He smirks, crossing one arm over the other. 'And you think you've got it in you to keep up with us? No random bodyguard or tutor can just waltz into this place. If you want to stay here, then you've got to be something more than that. You've got to be something special.'
'Well, I'm not just any random bodyguard.'
'So tell me about yourself and prove it.' That smile is dancing over his face like sunlight now, a crooked lilt that etches a dimple in his cheek. 'Three things.'
I unfold three fingers. Three things. I'm one thing and one thing alone—a bodyguard. But I can't merely be a bodyguard now.
This kingdom is on another level.
I have to be me. And I've never known who I was.
One finger. 'I like macarons.'
Two fingers. 'I know parkour.'
Three fingers. 'I'm looking for someone in Glanzreich.'
His eyebrows lift. 'Who?'
'You've had your three questions already, Your Highness.'
'Heh.' Leonhard slips his hands in his pockets and walks off, still smiling. 'Look at that, I guess you're a real person after all.'
'Of course I'm a real person.' I fluff my hair and poke my cheek, demonstrating my tangible qualities.
'Well, I couldn't tell right away. You were like some little bodyguard doll.'
I take my clipboard from the couch, and slowly open it. 'That should be the extent of your interview, Prince. What is your verdict?'
'Hm?'
'You were the one who challenged us all to prove our worth within the day, after all. Was that to your satisfaction?'
He considers. The ticking of the clock seems unnecessarily loud, as well as the ticking of my heartbeat.
'Or do you require me to jump through flaming hoops and shoot a fly from twenty paces as well?'
He laughs, and snatches my clipboard from my hands. 'That sounds like fun, but we've got to save some stuff for later, right?'
'Give that back!'
We grapple over it in the air, only to pull it open between us. Leonhard blinks, his eyes flicking left and right over the notes and newspaper clippings, and photographs. And his eyes linger on the handwritten note.
I expect him to pull back. To yell. To have a break-down. Or a dozen other things, because I have no idea what that note means to him—or what it means at all.
But he merely scoffs. A slightly disbelieving sound, and he closes the clipboard with a half-smile. 'I guess that's another thing. I want this to work for my brothers. So really, that's all I care about. I want someone who will care about them, not about their salary.'
'My interests lie only in completing my work satisfactorily, Highness. So that should be no problem.'
Because while I do want this to work out for the Chatons as one of the biggest career opportunities we've had to date… my interests do lie elsewhere.
In finding someone in Glanzreich.
Leonhard flicks through the papers, then pulls out a sheet of paper. '"Client signs here?" Is this where I'd kind of vote "yes" or "no" or whatever?'
My heart skips a beat and rattles with nerves. I know that this is the tipping point. He'll either say yes or no, and if he says no, it's going to be a one-way slide down a slope of desperate efforts to convince him to change his mind before the day is out. And that may not work out in my favour.
'Yes.' Then it clicks, and I take a pencil, scrawling on the page. 'That's where the "client" would sign.' I scratch out the word 'client,' and pencil different words in over top. 'Prince Leonhard, however, would sign here.'
How is it that such a haughty prince can have such a nice smile?
'All right, give me that.'
He takes a seat on the sofa, elegantly crossing one leg over the other and dipping a fountain pen int the inkwell that sits on the table.
I'm frozen, unable to move, watching… as he signs his name. And hands the piece of paper back. 'Well? Take it.'
I did it. I got the fourth prince's signature.
'Thank you, Prince. I look forward to working with you.'
I rise from my curtsey, and looking at him, I can't help but wonder if maybe I was wrong, if his brash demeanour was merely a front to shelter a sweet personality—
'You're staring again. And don't get all excited.' He tosses his head and gives me a filthy glare. 'Just because I decided to humour you doesn't mean that I like you, you peasant.'
Strike that, his arrogance is taller than the yet-to-be-constructed Eiffel Tower. I can feel a vein twitching in my jaw, and my clipboard creaks alarmingly under my fingers. 'Well, Prince, I have a feeling we're going to get along splendidly.'
'Don't give me that. And don't hurry to unpack, either. You better start praying that your friends can win my brothers over, because you just got lucky, got it?'
Sweet personality my foot…
'Good day, Prince. I'm going to make further arrangements regarding our situations and setup in the palace, so I will rejoin you later on.'
He flicks his hand in a wave. 'Whatever.'
And I step out the doors, two footmen closing them with a bang behind me.
I set off down the hall. I walk quickly over the carpet, through a glittering array of lights.
I thought that I'd seen it all in my time working all over the Western Continent. But these princes don't want the best or most skilled or prettiest guards—they want guards they can trust and guards that are willing to go beyond the call of duty.
I exhale a breath with the slightest of smiles, cracking my knuckles as I walk.
So beyond the call of duty I will go—likely chasing Prince Leonhard around the kingdom at breakneck speeds.
Chapter 4: Interview with a Braniac Prince
Chapter Text
~ Chiara ~
Chiara Silvestri. She hails from the Kingdom of Veneto and shares the blood of one of the kingdom's noble families. Skilled in the ways of the royal court, an expert pianist, skilled with miniature weapons…
…And in need of a paper bag to be hysterical into. Who even writes this stuff, anyway?!
I take a skittering breath and choke it down – because I'm standing right beside Prince Bruno, and puffing like a broken perfume dissipator isn't going to make a good impression.
Don't panic breathe you're fine you studied you got this you're fine fine fine he's only an internationally-acclaimed scholar and stupidly good looking and I –
And Solana sprints down the hall after Prince Leonhard, shrieking something that rattles the chandeliers.
Even my internal voice switches off due to my inability to process what is happening. Calm-and-collected Solana … shrieking. That does not bode well.
My head is spinning, and I turn to the prince – but he didn't even notice. He has a pocket watch in his hand and a clipboard on the same arm, glancing over the clipboard at an almost inhuman speed.
Prince Bruno looks down at me and says, 'Is something the matter, Fräulein Silvestri?'
I gather my wits, recall what Gherman I've learned to date, and reach for one of the million parlour-appropriate responses I've collected throughout my dull-as-dishwater childhood.
'Oh, not at all!' Prince Leonhard and Solana are coming up on those marble steps fast, and I manage to keep talking despite the instinct to scream be careful, saying, 'I was merely admiring how … energetic your brother is. It's very invigorating!'
'What, Leonhard?' Bruno looks up to see Leonhard dive down the stairs and Solana vault over the stairwell railing.
I clap a hand to my mouth. 'Santo cielo!'
Bruno sighs in exasperation and barks, 'Watch the chandeliers!'
Leonhard twists in midair and yells, 'I didn't hit them that time!' Then he does a one-eighty into the underpass and disappears from sight.
A moment later, I hear him and Solana squabbling beneath the marble overhang. My lungs begin functioning again. Having decided there's no longer any cause for concern, Bruno folds his clipboard shut. 'My younger brother is rather spirited, yes. Though I wish he'd take more care for the decor at times.'
'It certainly livens things up …?'
He adjusts his glasses. I can see that humour doesn't do a lot for this frosty prince. 'Indeed. Well, I have commitments in the latter part of the day, so if we are going to conduct this interview, then let us proceed at once.'
And now I have to know what I'm doing again, and deep breath paper bag would be good right around now breathe, but I keep it together, and I nod sweetly. 'Whatever you like!'
He turns on his heel and strides down the corridor, and I dash after him with a startled yip, like an abandoned lap dog.
A royal aide falls in beside Bruno, and the prince ticks off a checklist with sharp lines of speech. 'Move the potential Stadler University engagement to next week; confirm the meetings with the Fonseine publisher, and relay a message to Herr Smerdyakov that we'll have to change the day for our meeting. Dismissed.' The phrase cuts past me, grazing my cheek like a sword being swung through the air.
The aide leaves, and it's all I can do to keep step with the prince. Despite his terrifying walking speed and rapid-fire orders, Prince Bruno seems to have a calm demeanour, a deep, icy calm that chills him from the inside out, reflecting in his eyes like cold light on an ice floe, an assortment of shades of blue –
You're noticing his eyes. His blue eyes – get a hold of yourself, young lady!
Bruno glances down and purses his lips, staring at me in turn. 'What is it?'
Another parlour response, quick – 'I was merely thinking you looked familiar, is all.'
'Unsurprising. I'm told that I get a lot of newspaper coverage.'
And he's right, I think, noting how similar his profile looks to the countless photographs I've seen in papers. There were also articles lauding endless achievements and academic papers, and a recent cultural exchange with Orosz, where the prince went on an extended trip to work with the scholar Dr. Dmitiri. Genius. Prodigy. Young talent. The image of his mother, from what I've heard.
We wouldn't even have crossed paths if it weren't for my work.
He knows what he's talking about – instead, I pretend like I know what I'm talking about. And everyone else pretends as though they're listening to what I'm saying.
I bite the edge of my nail, then jam my hands into the folds of my dress. Ladies don't chew on their hands. Two footmen open the doors of his chambers for us, and I follow the prince into a portal of polished wood and gold.
Pretend like you're biting your nails in your head if that helps,Solana told me once.
So I did. I bottled everything up to be that perfect girl, because I had to.
Have to.
'Would you care to take a seat?'
'Delighted. Fabulous. Yes,' I say, and I sit myself down as fast as possible. No more thinking, stop thinking – okay, good … wow.
This isn't a room – this is a library. A shrine to literary treasures that fill every shelf in the room, a quiet space decorated in shades of mahogany and velvet. There's even a library ladder. Come to think of it, where's the bed? I crane my neck and look around. Does he sleep on top of his bookshelves?
Prince Bruno takes a seat with a lot more grace than I did, sitting on the other side of a polished coffee table. He adjusts his glasses. Despite his windswept hair, he makes the chaise lounge that he occupies look like a throne.
'So you're interviewing me, I take it?'
'Y-Yes!'
'Then I will ask what language you wish to conduct this in. I appreciate your effort to speak the language of our country, but you needn't go to the effort for my sake.'
'Oh … Thank you. Fonsein, please.'
He nods, switching over and speaking as smoothly as though it were his first language. 'Understood. Will this suffice?'
'It will, thank you.'
I just don't tell him that's not actually my native tongue.
I fish around and pull out my folder, trying not to bend too far forward – because I get the feeling that Prince Bruno isn't a fan of girls who lean over in tiny dresses. Not that there's really anything to see, comparatively speaking, but –
I get the pages out of the folder and nearly drop them everywhere. 'Just a simple question-and-answer interview.'
He holds out a hand. I meekly slide the pages across the table. The prince gives it a once-over, unfastening an inkwell and dipping a pen in it without even looking. 'You merely wish me to fill this out?'
'Yes.' The prince begins checking off answers, and I continue. 'If you would be …'
I trail off, my eyes widening. Check-check-check —
'If you would be so kind as to …'
Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-
Prince Bruno claps the folder shut and passes it back over. 'Done. And I underlined a stylistic error on question three for you.'
'… Why, thank you.'
Internally, I'm shrieking. What was that how can a human read so fast that wasn't even human is he an elvish prince right out of a fairytale arghhh I could tear out my hair – I cough, get my act together and give him a smile. 'Much obliged.'
I glance down at the page and – oh my word. The pages sag in my fingers. He even wrote bullet-point notes.
… I suddenly feel illiterate.
'Well.' I tap my pointer fingers on my folder. '… Any questions?'
Prince Bruno rests the pen on its silver holder and screws the lid back on. He sits back in his chair and crosses one leg over the other. 'Not about this. It all seems to be standard fare. But I have some questions about you. Who exactly is Chiara Silvestri?'
My heart skips a beat, and then skips another when I notice the folder beside him. Don't tell me that he looked me up before I came here? And then my heart stops.
Don't tell me … that he knows who I am?
Yet his face remains the same, slightly critical and curious. I give him a gracious smile and say, 'Chiara Silvestri is someone who has been tasked with your safety, Prince, and she intends to do her job to the best of her ability.'
He frowns and says, 'And how exactly do you intend to maintain a position by my side in order to carry out your work?'
I force myself not to melt into a puddle. I just dodged a bullet. 'In whatever way you wish! As a fellow scholar, or as an assistant, or as a companion, or as an acquaintance, or…'
'Are you a scholar yourself?'
Dare I say it, he almost looks interested. But ask me no questions, or I will most probably have to lie. 'I'm not,' I admit.
His interest fades immediately. 'I see. Though I wasn't really expecting anything else.'
'But be that as I may …' I give him a winning smile and say, 'All experienced scholars have assistants, do they not?'
'And you would be doing … what?'
'I could uh, er … carry your luggage?'
He raises one eyebrow, the other dipping below the frames of his glasses.
'And I can make tea.'
'Charming. Very useful.'
Prince Bruno stares at me intently, and I resist the urge to fidget. Do I have something on my face? Did my hair get caught up? Do I remind him of someone who annoys him?
Then he holds out a hand to me, with something resembling a wry smile. 'Pardon my rudeness, Mademoiselle – but would you permit me to test you as well?'
'Cest moi?'
That brief flicker of humour disappears again. 'Indeed. I would like to know that you're worth the time and money that my family is investing in this little stunt.'
He gets up and stands beside a window that showcases a silent vista of trees and spires. 'I'd like to know … Why you? Why whatever your little group is called?' He pushes his glasses up, revealing a hint of irritation in his sigh. 'While I deeply respect my father, the novelty of having personal guards has worn off by now, and I see this as little more than an attempt to spice things up with variety. I'm not overly impressed.'
He crosses the carpet. I hurriedly get up, meeting his gaze.
'So if you cannot make a decent showing for yourself …'
I wasn't imagining that ice in his eyes. His breath is pure frost.
'… Then I'm going to have to ask you to leave.'
I choke back a nervous, ill-timed laugh. 'As you wish, Your Highness.'
After a moment more of examination, he picks up a case from the shelf beside me. The black and white squares, the polished enamel … my horror dawns.
He senses my discomfort like a finely crafted hunting dog and presses me with the question, 'Tell, me, Miss Chiara – how are you with a game of chess?'
'I … am but a novice,' I stammer, 'but that should make things interesting, no?'
He smiles, and the light glints on his glasses. 'It should indeed.'
We take our seats. I fairly collapse into mine with a broken-hearted sob. Why chess?! I barely know how to play! Give me card games, musical chairs, or anything that doesn't involve intellect and strategy!
Prince Bruno dusts off the chess case with a gloved hand, then brushes it off with his sleeve. Then, he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and swipes it over the enamel. Then he conjures a cleaning rag from thin air and scrubs the thing until it should have been reduced to shards of ebony and ivory. It's only when he begins touching up the board with white and black paint and applying a fresh coat of lacquer that I realise he may have a case of what my mother called 'the compulsive fidgets'.
I delicately clear my throat. 'Please don't feel obligated to go to any great lengths for my sake, Prince. You've already done me a great favour in speaking in Fonseine.'
He looks up and flips the magnifying eyeglass that he pulled out of nowhere out of the way. 'We can't play on a dusty chess board!'
'But it's no longer dusty …'
He glances down. Does he even realise he's re-enamelling it?
Either way, he unfolds the case and sets the pieces out for us. On either side of the board, little forests of black and white pieces reside.
He graciously gestures for me to start, but I can tell that he's already planning how to celebrate his victory. 'White goes first.'
'Thank you.'
I deliberate, examining every piece … and I move a random pawn forward by two.
Prince Bruno blinks.
I want to bury my head in my hands and wail like a little schoolgirl. I know next to nothing about chess – I'm digging my own grave here!
Bruno touches one gloved hand to his lips, staring at the board. '… That looks somewhat like the Sicilian Defence,' he mutters.
But all I hear is the word Sicilian. Sicily. My blood ices over, and my head jerks up at the reference to the Veneto Kingdom.
But he merely moves a pawn to a square opposite mine after a lengthy pause to weigh up both the board and myself. 'So you are familiar with chess strategy then? I thought you were a novice. Mademoiselle Chiara?'
'Y-Yes!' I grab a back-row piece to move forward – only to realise it's the king, and I nearly slap myself for my stupidity– so I settle for moving the bishop instead. 'I am a novice. I'd just heard that term before. That's why it gave me pause.'
Bruno moves one of his knights in turn. 'I see.'
I can't think of anything better to do, so I move a knight as well. Bishop, pawn – rats, he just took my knight – but I take his bishop with a pawn, and curses, he just took my pawn with a knight.
I bite my lip and move my queen over, but I'm losing pieces faster than I would if I left a box of chocolates in Elle's room. I move my queen, wince at the prince's next move and try to stem the tide with a knight. Finally, there's some space on the board between us.
I'm fairly certain that I'm going to lose the game at this point. I don't know what to do. Should I purposefully try to lose now to make sure he wins? Would he like that? Or would he be furious? Do I even stand a chance against him, anyway? What would earn his favour? All I desperately want is to make the right choice – the one that will make him like me and let me win him over.
I realise that Bruno is staring at me yet again, but as though I'm a puzzle that he can't quite work out. 'What exactly are you doing?' he asked.
'… Playing chess?'
He lets out a quick, disbelieving laugh. 'If that is what you wish to call it. You're a completely unpredictable player. One would almost think you're not even strategising!'
'To be honest, I'm …' I whisper it, saying, '… Not really playing with any strategy?'
His eyes dart from the board to me again, and after much incoherence, he finally responds. He looks … less than impressed. 'Today's chess is a far cry from the rushed opening gambits and mad plays it used to be, Miss Chiara. I'm inclined to believe that you're not taking this seriously.'
That stings, and I snap back, 'I am taking this seriously!' Then I clap a hand over my mouth. 'I … am inexperienced, is what I meant to say. I don't know how to play very well.'
Prince Bruno says nothing, and after a moment, he moves another piece. I move a pawn in turn. Then I wince when he checkmates me with his queen. I slide my king out of the way, but he merely chases me and topples my rook with a firm glance. I've essentially lost, and now it's just formalities.
I castle my king in a nest of pawns, and I expect him to chase me down, yet he steps back from the action, bringing in a bishop to aid his queen. My defence has more holes than a crocheted doily, and I don't even know when he could have ended me or been unable to strike.
I move my king from place to place, only to realise that I've been cornered by a bishop and a knight in my efforts to get away from his queen. I chew on my lip. Then I take one of his pawns on the way out and sit back in defeat. 'Congratulations, Your Highness. As expected, the victory is yours.'
'Thank you.' He places the pieces back in the case, but he watches me as he does so. He looks bewildered. 'Forgive me, but … why did you choose to play if you could not … play?'
'Who says I can't play?' I shrug. 'I certainly cannot play well, but it made things interesting, did it not?'
Then I hear how it sounded, and I want to stuff the words back in my mouth. That wasn't the pretty, demure answer I wanted to give! I want him to like me, and I didn't even use my defeat to my –
'Heh.'
Was that a… laugh?
The prince keeps a straight face, yet his eyes look brighter. He's already deep in thought. 'Intriguing. I failed to consider that personal skill would also be a factor, not merely academic skill.'
Eh?
I stare at him, bewildered, as he holds out a gloved hand.
'Continue to surprise me, Miss Chiara. I wish to see what you are really capable of.'
My mind races, unable to process his words with a dozen demons shrieking in my head, only processing random fragments – such as the fact that his eyes look like blue glitter and that his gloves are stained with resin.
I'm not a scholar, and I'm not smart. But the Chatons have things that only they can do – I have a courtly upbringing and an endless supply of tricks up my sleeve. And this prince doesn't want to be flattered – he wants to be challenged.
If I can't win him over and get him to sign this contract, then all of us can kiss this commission goodbye. I have to do whatever it takes.
So get creative, Chiara.
I reach across the table and take his offered hand with a bright smile. 'It would be my pleasure.'
He pulls me to my feet and says, 'Excellent! Next up is mental arithmetic!'
Someone kill me now! I silently wail as we take our seats at his desk. Fate, why must you be so cruel?!
Two endless spools of paper lie before us, and I'm mercifully distracted for a second by the pretty view of the palace grounds.
The prince takes a pocket watch from his jacket. 'Ten minutes?'
'A-As you wish?'
But I know that if this boy was a demon at chess, then he's going to be a monster with arithmetic. What do I do what do I do what do I –
Then, my eyes land on a photograph sitting on the windowsill. It's a black-and-white negative painstakingly painted in colour, a shot taken of Bruno as a child and a man who must be his father. Bruno is even dressed in a tiny soldier's uniform. But what catches my eye is the king's smile, the kind you only see in fairytale picture books. The kind you wish was real.
'Begin!'
I set my pencil to the paper, and make a passing comment. 'Is that a photo of you and His Majesty, Prince?'
Bruno stops and looks up, his expression softening as he sees which photo I'm referring to. 'Yes, it is.' He sets his pencil to paper again, but I keep talking as I scratch out numbers.
'It's simply charming. Does the palace have a court photographer?'
'We do, yes, and the court painter colours the pictures for us.'
'It must be nice having photos of your family in your workspace.'
Bruno sets his pencil down, taking a moment to pick up the photograph. 'Indeed. It's a good reminder, in a way.'
'I suppose if you had photos of all your siblings as well, however, then you'd run out of room on your windowsill,' I joke, glancing at him now and then so that he doesn't cotton on to what I'm doing.
He fingers the edge of the photo frame. 'Ha! Indeed. Heaven knows I see enough of Licht without having his picture on my desk, that's for certain …'
'I imagine you get to see your siblings fairly often?'
'Oh yes, we all live together.' He abruptly stops. 'Well, most of us.'
He must be referring to Prince Eins. Because no other princes live outside the palace, do they?
I steer the conversation in a new direction and say, 'Then, in contrast, I suppose that your father must be incredibly busy with his royal duties.'
'Yes, hence the photograph to have a piece of him nearby.'
That look in his eyes when he's gazing at the photo … It looks like genuine affection. A smile shaded in by hundreds of childhood memories.
I'm a little jealous, really.
And the clock ticks over ten minutes. 'Time's up, Your Highness.'
His pencil snags on the paper. 'But I've not even done…' He looks down, then he snatches my arithmetic sheet. 'What?!'
I keep my expression perfectly innocent. 'I'm afraid that arithmetic is not my forte. I'm good at making small talk, however.'
And he can't counter it – because I filled out more questions than him within ten minutes by keeping the conversation flowing, distracting him from his work without him even realising it. Therefore, I technically got a win of some sort.
'Are you sure you just didn't write in random numbers?' he demands. He snatches up a jar of red ink but reluctantly has to put it down again. 'No, these are correct. And your penmanship is rather good,' he forces out through his teeth. 'Heh. Well done. Now onto music!'
He drags me from the room – snatching a violin case on the way out – and drags me down the staircase into a glittering ballroom presided over by a beautiful grand piano.
'My word,' I whisper. This is true wealth – carved and polished and plastered onto walls in an endless sea of gold. Imagine dancing the famous Wiennese Waltz in here … how dreamy …
Bruno pulls out the piano stool and says, 'Let's see how well you can think on your feet. Play as my accompanist.'
I nearly faint dead away on the polished marble floor. 'Are you quite serious?! One has to study to play accompaniment! And for two people who have never before met to simply play without having rehearsed or even –'
Once I run out of breath, Bruno shoulders his violin. 'If you are quite done, shall we begin?'
Is it just me … or is this prince actually a royal pain in the posteriore?
I sit myself down at the piano and slam my hands down on the keys with ill humour. 'What are we playing?'
'"The Four Seasons". I assume you would know it?'
'I do.'
And without ado, we begin to play. I keep the notes soft, terrified that one wrong move will have him screeching to a halt and demanding to know if I'm musically illiterate. Yet one bar after another passes with no severe deviations from the sheet music. I even notice some of the palace staff gathering to listen. We're drawing a crowd.
It's not as though I'm unused to playing as an accompanist. I've just never done it with a violinist. I usually play for my brothers, who always tell me to play more quietly so that everyone can hear their singing voices.
Cautiously, I play louder, easing my feet off and on the pedals. Then, all of a sudden, aghast, I realise that Prince Bruno and the music are both speeding up, and my hands fall still, dancing a tiny, quiet waltz on the keys as I try to keep up.
'Oh, what a pity,' one of the maids whispers. 'We can hardly hear her play now …'
It barely registers. But on the next bar, I play louder and take it away in a storm of bass notes, giving Prince Bruno a glare in the reflection of the piano's wood.
He naturally retorts with a skilful trill of violin strings, and I back off, yet with each murmur from the audience, I play a little louder, and we fight it out until we're both playing in unison, much to our spectators' delight. I even take my eyes off the sheet music, realising that I don't need it if I can watch the other person play.
And we finish to applause from the crowds.
Bruno offers me his hand, and as we leave the ballroom and return to his chambers, he says, 'I thought you said you weren't an accompanist!'
'I've never accompanied a violinist,' I protest.
'Yet you play so well.' He watches me as he walks. 'Yet you kept holding yourself back.'
I avoid his gaze, faking a laugh and waving off the compliment. Piano is probably the only thing I have going for me, I must admit. 'An accompanist shouldn't upstage the star of the show.'
And my brief moment in the spotlight ends when Prince Bruno draws a set of cards from his pocket and fans them over the table. 'Well, one can have all the talent in the world and fail to have luck. Do you consider yourself good at cards, Miss Chiara?'
I sit down with a startled thump. 'Assorted parlour and card games are a pastime of mine, I must admit.'
'Then try your hand.' He deals us the cards, and I take my hand.
He lays out his. 'Four of a kind.'
I lay out mine. 'Three of a kind.'
Not terrible. Not great. An average result.
I make a little tent from my three matching cards, then pass them back to Bruno. He fans them together in a simple shuffle and puts them away. I wish they'd been on my side of the table. I can make elaborate fans and stacks, creating beautiful patterns on a parlour table; pleasing and entertaining everyone I meet.
I wish I'd been able to play my best cards today. But maybe they wouldn't even have been enough.
Bruno spreads a sheaf of paper over the table and says, 'Now you will complete a test written by me – in five different languages and covering history, sociology, and –'
'What on earth am I actually being tested for, pray tell?!' I protest.
He stops. 'Oh.' He gathers up the papers and says, 'Oh dear. Yes, that's from a different interview. Pardon me.'
I could weep with relief … because I can barely communicate in one language at the best of times.
'Tell me something, Miss Chiara.'
I jump in my seat, bracing myself for him to ask me some purposefully difficult question, and I cycle through a dozen answers –
'Why do you work for Le Chatons de Fleur?'
I blink. My mind is completely blank. 'B-B-Because I … want to … help people, of course!'
Bruno says nothing.
And I feel like a tiny, overdressed doll on this sofa.
I clench my fingers around the cameo pin at my neck, trying to bottle up my feelings. 'W-Well? Was I to your … liking, Prince?'
And I don't know what I'm going to do if he says no. Because all I want is for people to like me. I'm desperate for it. It's all I want.
Is that so very bad?
Bruno rubs a gloved hand against his chin. '… One last thing, if you wouldn't mind. Where are you from?'
'F-From?' I laugh nervously. 'I … I live in Fleur, and –'
I stop at the look on his face. And I lower my eyes. 'I'm from the Kingdom of Veneto.'
Bruno sighs, having finally gotten the answer he seemed to be looking for. 'Forgive me for prying. But why did you try to hide it?'
I bite my lip so hard that it nearly bleeds. 'Because I heard that Glanzreich has had strained relations with the Kingdom of Veneto as of late. I did not mean to obscure it, but I thought that you would … dislike me if you knew.'
Something flickers in his eyes. 'While you are correct in that there has been political tension, yes, I hope that I would have the good grace to appraise someone without their homeland affecting my view of them. For that matter, you seem to have a preoccupation with likes and dislikes.'
'Is that so very wrong?' I lock my fingers together, trying to lock back the words. 'We are not all lucky enough to be geniuses, Your Highness, winning favour whichever way we turn. Some of us have to try to get people to like us.'
'I …' Bruno touches a hand to his mouth. 'I apologise. That was not in good taste on my part.' He hesitates. 'And I'm not a genius. I never have been.'
He weighs me up, then says in a slightly softer tone of voice. '… I did not mean to judge you. If anything, I'm the very same.'
'What?'
He smiles a little and takes off his glasses to polish the lenses. 'I used to live and die by the opinions of others. It was all I cared about.' He slips his glasses on again. 'May I offer you some unsolicited advice?'
I nod.
'Being yourself is a risk, but … when you find people who like you for who you are, they'll be by your side forever. Everyone else comes and goes.' He smiles. 'I apologise if I'm overstepping myself.'
'… No.' He's not. If anything, it makes a strange kind of sense.
But regardless of that – I still need to win him over, or I'm going to blow this for everyone!
Then I realise I have one last card I can play – one that Bruno just placed in my hands. I stare at him, heart hammering. If I can find out what kind of person is best suited to win him over, then maybe, just maybe …
'So … who have you found, then? Who prompted you to say that?'
He blinks.
Then he springs to his feet and gestures in a dramatic sweep that nearly takes out my left eye, proclaiming, 'Why, none other than my dear master, the light of my existence – Professor Heine Wittgenstein!'
'Would you mind excusing me for just one moment?'
'Er, yes, of course …'
And I sprint from the room, skidding around corners and asking a maid with blonde corkscrew curls, 'Where can I find Professor Heine?!' Then I charge down the hall she points me to and barge through a set of doors, coming face-to-face with a startled tutor.
'What is on earth is going on –'
I dive into a formal bow, yelling, 'Please make me your apprentice!'
Professor Heine drops the stack of books he was holding with a clatter. He blinks. 'Eh?'
My heart is pounding hard enough to break my ribcage, and I can't take my eyes off the carpet. And the books on the carpet, and the papers, and … my word, his room's a mess.
I straighten up, blushing now. 'Forgive me for barging in.' Then I drop to my knees and clasp his hands, saying, 'Please, I beg of you! I'll do anything! I need to win Prince Bruno over, and I don't know what else to do!'
His eyebrows lift in recognition, 'Ah, you must be Miss Chiara, Prince Bruno's guard.' He pulls me to my feet and says 'But I don't understand why you're coming to me …'
'You won the prince over, right? He looks up to you, so if I become your apprentice, then maybe I can convince him to let me stay! Please! I'll do anything!'
His amber eyes flicker behind his glasses. Between the purse of his lips and the creases in his brow, he looks like a perplexed cat. 'In all honesty, there are no prerequisites for becoming an apprentice of mine. But I'm not really looking to –'
'Please! If there's even a chance that I've got what it takes, then maybe he'll let me stay! Please!'
'Hm. Well …' Then he blinks. He places one hand on his hip and cracks the air in two with a teacher's pointer that rests mere inches from my face. 'All right, let's see if you've got what it takes. To be my apprentice, you have to be an adolescent of schooling age with brown hair and glasses, if possible –'
'I can get glasses!'
' – You need to have deep-seated psychological issues stemming from a dysfunctional relationship with your father and elder brothers – '
'Are you kidding me? Yes! I can't stand them!'
'– You also need to have an inferiority complex, obsessive-compulsive tendencies, anxiety issues, and an inbuilt desire to earn recognition and favour from others –'
'That's me to a fault!'
'– And apparently, you need to mention my name on a statistical average of eight times an hour, follow me around everywhere like an overeager puppy, burst into tears whenever I praise you and have an existential crisis over even the smallest thing that may impede you on your path to becoming my apprentice.'
I bounce up and down, saying, 'I can do it – I can definitely do it!'
He raises his eyebrows as high as they can go, then he gives me a slight smile. 'Then I would be pleased to have you as my apprentice, Miss Chiara.'
I nearly jump three feet in the air in my excitement. 'Thank you, Heine! I mean, Master – wait, am I meant to call you "master" – oh my word, I think I'm going to cry – ack, I need to get back to the prince – ' I bow so quickly that I nearly trip over a stack of books, crashing into random articles of furniture in my haste to get going. 'Thank you, thank you, thank you!'
'And don't forget to sprint out the doors while yelling, "Yes, I did it!"' Heine calls after me.
I fly out the doors like I'm crossing a finish line, giddy with excitement and yelling, 'I did it!' I sprint back to Prince Bruno's room and charge through the doors, startling him out of his elegant sitting posture.
'Prince, I've taken your advice into consideration – and what better way to act on it than by studying under the master who changed your mind and gave you that advice in the first place!'
'What?'
'Professor Heine made me his apprentice!'
Bruno flies out of his seat like someone just jabbed him in the posteriore with a pitchfork. 'What?! Just like that?!' He gives up on trying to decide between admiration and confusion and says, 'How did I miss your potential – what kind of genius are you?!'
I can't even get the words out to tell him that I simply met some oddly specific criteria – because I'm giggling far too hard. 'It looks as though we'll be studying together!'
'Indeed we shall –' Bruno grabs my hand and spins me around the room in that very Wiennese Waltz, making me shriek. 'And if you have Master's stamp of approval, then you have mine as well!'
We pass the coffee table, and I snatch up my folder and the prince's pen set. 'Then could I get you to sign this –'
He dashes it off without even looking and spins me around the room again. 'Yes, yes – now tell me, what did you think of Master? What were your impressions?'
'I think he's amazing! And as far as I'm concerned, I could sing his praises all the day long!' Because he's the reason that I just got Prince Bruno to sign the contract, and I did it – yes!
And all I've got to do is be myself!
Wait … Wait, wait, wait.
I freeze, rigid in Prince Bruno's arms, as he spins me about the room like a doll – one very worried doll.
Be myself? Do I even know how to do that?
I muffle a terrified shriek in my sleeve cuff, and then laugh off Prince Bruno's startled enquiry as to my health.
Be myself?! What kind of stupid criteria is that – what am I going to do?!
Chapter 5: Interview with a Playboy Prince
Chapter Text
~ Elle ~
Elle Satinwood. Of Columbian origin, and one of the most popular Chatons. A talented seamstress, seductress, and she …
… is constantly being told to behave. But really – they shouldn't tell me not to get carried away and then pair me with this prince.
This prince, who spins me around in a faux waltz – who takes my hand and gives it a textbook kiss that grazes my knuckles before he lifts his head and rakes a hand through his golden tresses in one smooth movement. He gives me a roguish smile. 'A cruel fate to be stuck in one another's company for the next month, no?' He leans in. 'Cruel indeed.' His breath sends a shiver down my spine; his lips brush my cheek with a kiss, and he steps back again.
Ooh la la. Not bad, little prince. And not even deterred by the fact that I have two inches on him with shoes off. Excuse me while I go and fan myself.
I make no comment; I merely smile and take the arm that he offers me, with the two of us walking closely enough to earn us a slap on the wrist from anyone concerned with the chastity of the household's young royals.
'My my,' I drawl. 'I didn't expect the youngest prince to be such a charmer …'
'Don't judge anyone around here by surface appearances, my sweet.'
From the back, we probably look like siblings, with our waist-length golden tresses, although his are honeyed and tipped with pink-lemonade highlights, and mine are the colour of corn and maddeningly wavy. Yet the way we're walking – with our clothes brushing together and my arm in his – we would clearly not be siblings.
Come to think of it, looking as though we'd need surgery to separate us is most definitely going to get us yelled at. Is there anything in the contract about excessive flirting?
Prince Licht suddenly takes his arm away and dances backwards, flicking a hand toward a set of double doors. With such grace and fancy footwork, I almost expect the corridor to transform into a stage with lights, seats, and roses. 'Well, darling,' he says, 'welcome to my chambers!'
Same song, different singer, next verse ...
He rests a hand on the doorknob, saying with an apologetic shrug, 'I'm afraid I haven't had time to clean up. We've been making a bit of a mess …'
'Not at all – wait, what? We?'
I'm sucked through the doors like sand through an hourglass, and I walk into what looks like the cover shoot of a stylish men's entertainment periodical.
'Yippee-yi-kai-yay,' I say faintly. 'Yippe-yi.'
The opulent surroundings are draped with velvet and populated by pretty young women. Perfume floods my senses; accessories and rose petals are scattered tastefully – if misplaced garter belts and handkerchiefs can be tasteful – across the carpet. Gherman music, no doubt suggestive in nature, plays on a gramophone on a nearby table.
Looks like I'll fit right in – for better or worse.
'Come on in, angel,' the prince says with a grin
'Thank you.' I eye a girl with bare arms … and a bare torso, given how slight her garments are. 'I feel somewhat overdressed.'
'Oh, I could help you with that.'
Someone get this prince a glass of water – because he's far too thirsty.
He follows my gaze to the girl who looks like she just came straight from a shift at a cabaret, and he raises an eyebrow. 'Corrina, darling? As much as I'm enjoying the view and would like to sit down and enjoy it with a glass of something – we have a guest.'
The girl yawns, sprawling over the sofa, and opens one eye to weigh me up. 'Oh?' She perks up and sits up, her bobbed green hair falling back from her face. 'And who's this, Lichie?'
As though it were a cue, I'm suddenly surrounded my two other girls, one with bouncing blonde curls and another with long brown hair, both of them greeting me and playing with my hair and examining my clothes.
'Why haven't we heard about her, Lichie?' one of them protests. She examines the bodice of my dress and says, 'Please tell me you're using a corselette. No one should be able to achieve results like that unaided.'
I blink. My Gherman isn't as good as I'd like it to be. '"Corselette"? Is that like a corset?'
'No fair!' she wails in dismay. 'You lucky thing!'
Licht consoles his little blonde cutie with a kiss on the cheek, saying, 'Cheer up, sweetheart, we all have our selling points.'
So my selling points are my 'unaided results,' then. Great. I sigh and gesture towards his companions, saying, 'So, who are these lovely ladies when they're at home, Prince?'
'I'm Corrina,' the cabaret girl says with a foxy smirk. 'How do you do?'
The blonde one perks up and says, 'I'm Rosa!'
'And I'm Anne,' the brown-haired one adds softly.
'A cabaret star, an expert seamstress, and the prettiest waitress this side of the Western Continent,' Licht says with a smile. So that one actually does work at a caberet. What a shock. 'They're good friends of mine and –'
'I swear, Lichie – if you call us friends one more time, then I'm jumping ship on our relationship!' Corrina snaps.
'I thought you loved us!' Rosa says tearfully.
'And we came all this way to see you…' Anne adds, looking disappointed.
'Ladies, ladies, let me finish!' He clasps a hand to his chest and says, 'It's not as though I can sum up the depths of our feelings in a few mere words! You're my dear friends and the loves of my life – and mere friends don't do this,' he kisses Rosa on the cheek, 'or this,' and whispers a string of sultry words in Anne's ear, 'or this!' and he sweeps Corrina off her feet, bends her backwards in a full-blown kiss that has her pointing one leg up in the air like the final pose of a cabaret act finale, before setting her down again without so much as breaking a sweat.
'Kyaaah!'
I bat away some of the love hearts and sparkles that come a little too close for comfort. I mask a wry smile. Wonderful. It seems I've been tasked with a problem child who does whatever dang well takes his fancy in the heat of the moment. This is going to be interesting.
'But now, my dears,' Licht says, hugging each of them as though he's about to leave on a quest to slay a dragon, possibly to never return and flirt with them again. 'I'm afraid that Elle and I need some time alone together –'
'What?!' they shriek.
'She only just got here!' Corrina protests.
'That's not fair!'
'At least give her some time to settle in!'
'What on earth do y'all expect us to be doing one-on-one, for the love of …' I blanch suddenly. 'Oh, mercy me. Okay, hold your horses, I don't want that one answered, thank y'all very much.'
'Darlings,' Licht says firmly. 'Rest assured, you're all my best girls, and she's not getting special treatment. So stop getting those bloomers in a twist. She's merely a guest at the palace, and I'm afraid we've got some work-related matters to discuss. So off you go.'
'Fine,' the three of them sigh, and they depart with distrustful and longing gazes in Licht's direction. They drag it out as long as possible, but they finally disappear into a side room and close the door.
'Well,' Licht says once the two of us are alone. He gives me a charming smile. 'Whatever shall we do to entertain ourselves?'
If he was expecting me to say kissing games, then he's going to be sorely disappointed. I hold up a sheet of paper and say, 'First things first, a question-and-answer test. If you don't mind.'
He takes the paper, looks it over, and laughs ruefully. 'Work before pleasure, I should have known.'
He sets the paper aside and unbuttons his jacket, dropping it on the floor. He's rather slim compared to Prince Bruno and Prince Kai. I still can't guess how old he is.
Oh wait, his age is on my notes. He's 15.
Yet whether he's old or young, he's a complete wildcard – a playboy. Some of the other Chatons can't stand his type – and I'd rather bite my own hand off before letting him anywhere Chiara, the sweet little muffin. But on the other hand, I'm pretty well-practised in handling his type.
I should be able to get his signature without even breaking a sweat. His type, as nightmarish as it can be to deal with, is rather easy to please.
'All set, doll?' The prince sits on a chaise lounge and puts one booted foot on the table. He stretches his arms behind his head. 'Ah, that's better.'
'Yes, Your Highness.' I make to sit opposite him, but he holds up a hand. I stop. 'Is something the matter, Prince?'
'No? But how can we talk when you're so far away?' He pats the space beside him on the sofa with a smile. 'Come on, come!'
And just when I think I have a handle on him, he does something cute like that. I do as he says and sit beside him, gathering my skirts to the side so they don't get in the way. Our shoulders and knees touch. I would have expected this to feel somewhat awkward, but it doesn't.
'That's better.' Prince Licht sorts through the papers and flicks the corner of the first page. 'So is this like a competency test or what? Déjà vuuu…'
'You didn't strike me as the academic type, Prince.'
'Hell no, I'm not.' He takes a quill pen and dips it in ink, picking up a random book from the floor to lean on.
I lean forward a little and survey the pile of books that's spilling from beneath the couch. I pick one up, and it falls open.
…Good grief. It's a photo book. Please, no one arrest me during the brief moment that this thing is in my possession.
'So, tell me about yourself!' Prince Licht says brightly. He's completely unaware of what I've found.
I hold up the book. 'Well, I'm a seamstress, and I must say, these dresses are really inventive … If you can call them dresses ….'
He turns and flinches just a little. 'What the … Well, whoops.' He abruptly kicks the scattered books back under the sofa with such force that they shoot out the other side and bounce off the skirting boards like curling pucks.
I peer over the back of the sofa. Some of the books have ended up in the farthest reaches of the parquet. 'Have you ever thought about taking up curling, Highness?'
'Not in the least.' I press him with a look, and he shrugs, entirely without remorse. 'What can I say? I have an eye for beauty and a love of books, and the two are a match made in heaven.'
I flick through the book. I raise an eyebrow. 'Yeah, there's some real beauties here.'
'You're not actually reading that!' he protests.
'What can I say? I have an eye for beauty and a love of books.' I linger on one of the pages, feeling something like regret. The photographs are beautiful, and the girls are draped in the finest fabrics, clad in slender garments. But it's a certain kind of beauty, an objective beauty catered to the tastes of others, a beauty that belongs to someone else the moment that it is photographed.
I close the book and set it on the coffee table. 'I'm a tailor, so anything fashion-related always catches my eye, I'm afraid.'
'Ah, the lucky gents that have you as their tailor,' he muses.
'I sew dresses, actually. A more accurate term would be "seamstress."' I look up at the glittering chandeliers and smile. 'I used to have my own shop, but that was a while ago.'
'You did?' I've stunned him, apparently. Then a smile flickers on his face. 'You were doing what you wanted to do, yeah? I admire that. Where are you from?'
'Columbia.'
His face remains completely blank. 'Where the hell is that?'
I resist the urge to laugh. I know well and truly how uninvolved Columbia is in foreign affairs and vice versa. I'm one of the only Columbian girls I've seen on the Western Continent, but it's still amusing. 'Columbia. It used to be a colonial nation, but we've long since been independent.'
'Ah, I knew there was something about you.' He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. 'Foreign girls are always their own special kind of treasure. If all Columbian girls were like you, then I'd like to see your homeland.' He smiles. 'You could show me your tailoring shop.'
My heart skips a beat, and I'm thrown. I have to remind myself not to stare. He's simply playing with me, reciting well-worn pickup lines that I'm fully aware he reels off to every girl he meets. So why is there something genuine in his eyes now, when he speaks? Am I imagining it?
Either way, I don't have time for this. So I laugh it off and tap the folder lying on his knees. 'Let's save the social studies for another time, student –'
Licht holds up his quiz, then he pauses. 'Wait, social studies?'
Er, that probably didn't translate well from English. 'Uh… History? No, sociology? Uh …' I don't know the correct Gherman equivalent, so I say, 'I'm sorry, my Gherman isn't very good…'
'It's plenty good, darling, especially with that accent.' Then he frowns and says, 'But just speak your own language if you wish. I'm not that great with foreign languages either, but hey –' He shrugs elaborately. 'Love doesn't need words to communicate, am I right?'
I stare at him. Then I say in English, 'I ain't sure that you've thought too far ahead on that one, Prince.'
He blinks. '… Okay, I didn't understand a word of that.'
'So you won't even realise if I call ya a womanising git who could do with a spankin' and a timely lecture from yer pa?'
His expression doesn't change. And it's all I can do to restrain my hysterics. 'Oh lawsy, Prince, your face!'
He cracks a grin and says, 'Okay, point taken. I clearly poured my education down the sink. But do tell me what language that is.'
I briefly switch to Gherman. 'English. And your education aside,' I wave my hand in front of my face and say, 'The Western Continent and Columbia are both fairly exclusive circles, but my drawl isn't helping matters.' I clear my throat and continue in English, but in a more polished accent. 'English sounds like this in the Briton Isles. More familiar, no?
'Endlessly.'
'Anyway … Should I revert to German?'
'Well …' His lips curve in a slight smile. 'You could. But I've got to admit … Those pretty words have their own allure to them. I just wish I knew what you were saying.'
A stray expletive zips through my head. He's younger than I am. Strike that – he's simply young. Yet he has a talent for this type of banter that would drive courtesans and consorts into a jealous fury, enchanting everyone he meets. He's too pretty, really – a doll with sapphire eyes.
'Considerate ... but impractical. My Gherman will have to do. But are you like this with all the girls, Prince?'
He blinks. Then he sits back and flicks his hands out to either side in a what-can-you-do gesture. 'It's who I am, angel. The ladies can't get enough of me!' He glances at me. 'What, are you disappointed?'
I keep a straight face. 'I'm merely curious as to whether you're going to finish that quiz today.'
He holds up the question sheet and winks. 'Done already, darling.'
'Oh. Super.' I take it and look it over. His penmanship is all over the place, with loops, whorls and facets – like jewellery – but he did finish the test, as he said.
I decide to take the plunge, still reading, and ask the question, 'If it would please you, could I get you to sign this –'
'Wait, I have a question.'
Of course you do.
The prince raises one gloved finger and says, 'I wasn't really paying attention – you know, hard to do when you're sitting beside a pretty girl – but what's this about not …'
I look down at the quiz. 'Not …? Ah. The guard and the principle should not engage in romantic liaisons of any sort?'
'That!' He throws up his hands and protests, 'I got paired up with one of the prettiest of you kittens, and they expect me to behave?! Are you quite serious?'
'That's your problem?'
Well … I need his signature. He apparently wants me to be his new number one, except the contract doesn't allow for it. But it's not the first time something like this has happened. And that contract has byclauses …
And frankly, I want that signature.
So I rest my crossed arms on my knees and smirk. 'Well, darling. There's an exception to the rule. Faux romantic flings between a guard and a charge can be permitted if they're being used as cover.'
And in a move well-oiled by thousands of tries, he takes my hand. 'Now you're talking my language.' And he winks.
'We'll still have to behave ourselves, Prince.'
'Yes, yes. Don't go too far and all that.' He lowers his gaze, and lowers his voice. 'Though that could be hard. You're rather disarming, you know.'
'I'm meant to be. I'm your guard. I'm here to disarm armed assailants and beat the living daylights out of them if they look at you the wrong way.'
He blinks. It's as though he just realised that cats have teeth.
'But speaking of which,' I say, 'you will require a cover story to have me around as your guard and lady-love. Seeing as I've no rank nor the surname Rockefeller, I think the best I can do is take a spot in your little harem?'
If the prince had a beverage, it would probably be all over the table, or my dress, because he coughs so hard that he nearly chokes himself. 'What are you saying?! Jeez!'
'What, do you not consider them to be your –'
Licht gestures in a sweep that nearly knocks a dozen hairpins out of my hair. 'You think I'd see an angel like you on the side?!'
'That's the part that offended you?'
He completely ignores me and takes my hands in his. 'Darling, as a guest of the palace, my guardian angel and one of the most ravishing beauties I've ever laid eyes on – I could do nothing less than give you my utmost devotion and sell myself to you body and soul until the day our contract ends and you return to your chateau, upon which I will have to ask you to return my broken heart with great regret and tears!'
I know my limits, and I know I can't come up with an adequate reply to that in Gherman. So I hold up my folder. 'Does that mean you'll sign this?'
'It means I'd be delighted to, mein schatz.'
He signs in beautiful, uneven cursive, and hands the page over with a flourish and a smile.
If Solana were here, she'd be on my back for not smiling prettily – because my lazy cat grin is currently quirking my lips. 'Looking forward to working with you, Prince.'
And he kisses me – full-on, and far better than his age should permit – soft lips, sweet and chaste for a first time, with words between breaths. 'Same here, Elle Satinwood.'
I roll my eyes before firmly kissing him on the cheek in return. I'm doing what I see fit to get his cooperation – I'm often called shameless – but I'll try to imply some ground rules for both our sakes. 'I'm only a few years older than you. And you should really try and see girls your own age, Prince.'
He pulls a face and says, '… Meh. I'm not really into younger girls. Too loud and nowhere near as nice to look at.'
I roll my eyes and get up, stepping around the scattered books and garments. 'And I'm not really into dating younger guys, so it looks like you got the better end of the deal.'
'Ah, darling.' He rests his elbows on the back of the lounge and grins at me. 'What's a few years in the face of true love?'
I lean down to him with a sigh. 'Getting into character, aren't you?'
He cups a hand to my jaw and says, 'I'm in character, sweet – I'm a method actor.'
I can't take it anymore. The itch that's been tickling my head is now burrowing through my skull. 'I suppose I better play my part, then.'
And I tip his head up to mine with a lazy smile that's ransacked more hearts and mansions than I can count. 'Farewell, my love. I will count the seconds until I can return to your sweet embrace, away from the cruel ills of this world that would do us apart.' I trace the curve of his neck, resting a finger on his pulse and staining my fingertip with cologne. 'Kiss me before I go?'
His breath catches. Finally, he gives me a disbelieving smile. 'Well. Aren't you just full of surprises?'
I try not to wince. I finally let it slip – my worst habit. I'm a heartbreaker. Or a smart aleck. I come out with the worst and best responses at the best and worst times. Whatever you want to call it, it drives people crazy.
But it's also my secret weapon.
'By the way, "my love."' Licht tips his head, and narrows his eyes, still smiling that devastating smile. 'Who are you?'
'Pardon?'
'Let me rephrase – who are the Chatons? And why exactly do we have the pleasure of your attendance for this month-long tea party? Because as much as I'm delighted to have the company of such lovely ladies for the duration, it seems a little strange, doesn't it?'
'I don't know what you mean by strange, Prince.'
'I think you do. Female guards? A fantastic idea, for many obvious reasons. But it clearly seems to have taken someone's fancy – because this is somewhat unprecedented.'
As in, this idea is unheard of in the history of the Western Continent.
He gives me a long look. A pretty doll with sapphire eyes … sitting in a room full of dangerous things, with puppet strings dangling from his fingertips. 'Thoughts?'
I say nothing for a moment, because I have nothing to say. 'Words only get in the way, my prince. Besides, I don't know whose fancy we tickled. All I know is I'm getting paid a handsome amount to babysit a playboy prince and keep him out of mischief.' I arch a brow. 'Although that's a loose interpretation.'
He says nothing for a moment. Then jumps to his feet and kisses my hand, saying with that same roguish grin, 'Ah, don't mind me, darling! I get bored around here, and it's lucky I'm not a cat, as you know how the saying goes…'
I don't reply right away. He notices it, and his lips purse in a question.
'What are you?' I finally ask.
A prince? A playboy? A schemer? A mystery?
He clasps his hands behind his head. He shrugs. 'I'm a lot of things, darling. Smoking hot, a talented artist, and a fan-favourite with the general populace, just to name a few.' He flicks a kiss in my direction, and his eyes crease with a genuine grin.
I flick it back, choking back a smile.
Who am I to try and fit someone in a box? I'm a heartbreaker. A seamstress. A girl. A mystery.
Aren't we going to make an interesting couple for this month-long charade?
'Lichieeee?'
I whirl around to see the three crowd extras crouched in the gap of an open door like sulking kittens. I take my hand off the leg holster beneath my dress. That's right – no matter how insane this job gets, I have to stay focused.
It's a job.
The girls bob up and down, saying, 'Are you almost done? We're bored …'
'At least his voice is nice to listen to,' one of them mutters, 'but we don't like to be kept waiting …'
'My apologies, my darlings!' Licht hollers. 'I'll be with you shortly, but your loveliness is all too distracting, so could you please close the door?'
The door promptly slams shut, muffling delighted squeals.
Licht turns back to me and exhales a breath that ruffles the bangs framing his face. 'It's hard being in demand. There's only so much of me to go around. Anyway, my darling. I imagine you'll want to unpack and settle in, and dare I say that you probably have your own chambers –'
'Dare I say that could be misconstrued – '
'You may, but that aside … Want to meet up for some fun later?' He ticks off some items on his fingers. 'A candlelit dinner, or we could visit town and see the sights. I hear there's a good operetta on.'
'Why do I feel as though you're an old hand at running away to town?'
'Well, old habits die hard, but maybe you'll reform me.'
'I'd have as much success trying to reform the church –'
And the doors slam open to reveal none other than Prince Bruno and Chiara.
'Licht!'
'I haven't even done anything yet!'
I resist the urge to clap my hands over my ears. Charming family. Loud.
'You've have indeed – look at the state of this room!' Bruno nearly takes Licht's head off with a sweep of his arm, and I have to duck for safety as he points out every article of clothing on the floor with rapid-fire speed. You've been here for all of two-and-a-half days, and it is a veritable pigsty – look at this!'
Eh? Has Licht been away on royal duties?
'It adds character!' Licht yells back. 'And it's my damn room – and knock before you barge in here!'
'It's not as though you knock on my door! Not thrice, not even once!'
'At least knock for your own safety – don't you remember what happened last time?!'
'While I bleached the image of what I walked in on from my retinas, I still retain muscle memory of that incident and feel positively ill whenever I come near your chambers!'
At that moment, with ill-timing, Licht's girlfriends peep out of their hiding spot. Bruno claps a hand to his forehead. 'Good heavens – they're in the woodwork! Have you no shame, Brother?'
'None!'
'Good to know!'
As the row carries on, I glance at Chiara. I raise my eyebrows as high as they'll go. But she merely gives me an awkward wave and mouths, I got the signature!
… From that special little snowflake? Wow.
I snap back to attention as the argument reaches new heights, with Licht throwing up his hands and saying, 'It's about the coffee, isn't it?!'
'It's always about the coffee with you!'
'I mean this morning's coffee, idiot!'
'You spat in it!'
Chiara and I look at each other. What?
'I didn't know it was yours!'
'I don't care whose it was or if you thought it was yours – that's not the issue here! Spitting into a beverage is ill manners, and you shouldn't do it!'
'It was because I'd taken a sip from it, and it was hot! What, did you want me to burn my tongue?!'
'I –'
'Don't answer that!'
'And don't interrupt –'
I raise a hand and say pleasantly, 'I'll interrupt instead. Pardon me, Prince Bruno. Can we help you with something?'
And the torrent stops as though someone pressed a switch. He gives me a smooth bow. 'Pardon my intrusion, Miss Satinwood.' I nod, surprised. Good memory. But he turns back to Licht almost immediately, adjusting his glasses to better frame his cool glare. 'I nearly forgot myself – I intended to stop by my brother's chambers earlier, after my interview, but it slipped my mind until now.'
He places his hands on his hips and says, 'Given my brother's atrocious reputation with women and his royal responsibilities, I wanted to make sure that he was going to behave himself with decorum and respect towards our guests without having to be told?'
I finger-point and say, 'Oh, I like you. Chiara, can we swap?'
'No!' she protests. 'I only just won him over!'
Bruno gives me an unimpressed look. 'Pardon. Swap? Are we comparing stamp collections, Fraulein?'
'Uh, no. You're just more my type. Strike that, you're just older and less of an … uh …'
'A what?'
'… Never mind. You all have your unique qualities.'
Licht flops over the back of the couch and gives Bruno a dirty look. 'Moving on – I am offended, brother. Elle and I have been getting along like a house on fire!'
'Have you now.?'
'Yep!'
Licht neatly vaults over the couch and stands beside me, one arm around my shoulders and flashes the peace sign with a grin. 'We've fallen head-over-heels for each other, and we're planning on eloping on Thursday. So if you're looking for us, then we'll be at the Schatz villa in the mountains. Ah, forbidden love. Great narrative. Applause, please.'
Bruno and Chiara both turn red and white respectively, and I realise, aghast, that I have more in common with Licht that I thought – in that Prince Bruno is tremendously fun to tease.
'Brother!'
'W-What … Elle!'
'Calm down, Brunie,' Licht says, completely unfussed. He glances at me, probably expecting me to whack him over the head or punch him.
But I merely smile and say, 'We should name our first child Maria – hey, Prince Bruno, do you want to be the godfather?'
Bruno raises his eyebrows. Then says – loud enough to send pigeons careening from the roof of the palace – 'WHAT?!'
'Elle!' Chiara says, frantically slicing a hand across her neck.
'What? Oh.'
Kid jokes on day one. That was probably too soon. What am I doing –
Then Licht bursts out laughing, immediately distracting us all. 'Oh man … Someone who can annoy Bruno as much as me. This is going to be a riot.'
I widen my eyes and purse my lips. 'Annoy? I didn't mean to annoy anyone. I was simply following your lead …'
Licht realises a second too late what I did and is defenceless against Bruno's next volley of shouting. 'Elleee!' Licht whines. 'You're my guard! Can't you – I don't know – give me a little help here?'
'I'm only meant to protect you from threats, darling, and Prince Bruno isn't one – he's just loud.'
Bruno stops and turns to me with a frown. 'Pardon? Loud?'
'Loud? I meant vocally gifted.' I nod emphatically. 'You have impressive range.'
'… Thank you,' he says, unconvinced.
'Bruno,' Licht wheezes. 'For the last time, I'm sorry about spitting in your beverage. Now can you please let me go?'
'What?' Bruno looks down, realising that he still has a stranglehold on his brother. He swiftly lets go. 'Pardon me. I'd moved on to being enraged at your crass humour.'
Licht pulls a hairbrush and mirror from thin air and begins untangling his tresses. 'Right. So now that we've gotten to the end of all my ills and you've given me your preemptive verbal slap on the wrist … is there anything else?'
'Not that I can think of.' Prince Bruno looks me up and down, then stares at me for a moment. Finally he says, '… Good day, Miss Satinwood. I leave my brother in your hands.'
I narrow my eyes. Okay, a swapsie is out. He's all Chiara's. I think my very existence probably offends him, and I know I can't please everyone. So I merely smile and say, 'It will be my pleasure.'
But Bruno has already turned back to Licht, saying, 'So how do you intend to keep her by you? Let me guess, she'll become Girlfriend No. 227 and hover at your side day and night.'
Licht shakes his head dismissively. 'Girlfriend No. 227 was the girl from the kondeitori, Brunie. Keep up.'
'I do not wish to keep up with your lewd antics!' Bruno snaps. 'And no, publishing a daily newsletter filled with drivel about your romantic liaisons would not make me more inclined to do so!' He coughs. 'But let me guess.' His voice drips with sarcasm. 'You'll have her dress up as a waitress and accompany you whithersoever you go.'
Licht flushes and his breath catches. 'Oh, you did so just not – '
'And how have you yourself and Chiara come to an arrangement, Prince Bruno?' I say smoothly. My sense for gossip is tingling, but something tells me that if these two were to truly fight, then it would bring the roof down on our heads.
Licht seizes the topic change with both hands. 'Yeah, Brunie, she's really cute –'
I swiftly move to – accidentally – step on his foot, because I don't even need to. Bruno's face lights up so quickly that it's downright disturbing. 'Ah, we already hit upon a solution.'
And he spins Chiara around to join him so quickly that she nearly trips. I can practically see and hear the confetti, smoke, violins and trumpets come together in a tremendous brass band flare. 'Chiara is going to seek enlightenment as a fellow apprentice under Professor Heine. What education has brought together, let nothing bring asunder!'
Chiara looks like a very disoriented Clara who just touched down in the Land of Sweets with an over-enthusiastic Nutcracker as an escort. She tentatively waves a fist. 'Viva la tutors!'
'Onwards for glory!'
'Ad infinitum!'
And the two of them whirl out of the room in what looks alarmingly like the tango.
Licht and I stare at each other. 'What is your brother on?' I ask.
'An incredibly high dose of hero-worship. Antidote yet unknown.' Licht's shoulders shake with laughter, and he rakes his hands through his golden tresses. 'Viva la tutors, eh? Leonhard would have pink kittens if he heard that.'
'With another kitten?' I say without thinking.
Licht claps a hand over his mouth and chokes.
A moment later, I wince. '...I shouldn't be allowed to write my own jokes.'
I nearly bury my face in my hands, but he rests a hand on my shoulder. 'I like you, Elle. You're going to be a lot of fun to have around.' He glances, away, then fingers his cheek and gives me a grin. 'I've never met a girl like you.'
'I bet you say that to all the girls, you cute little button.'
'Of course I do. Because each time I say it, I hadn't met that girl yet.'
I just can't get a handle on him. A playboy, a schemer, a dreamer. A mystery. A sweetheart, despite everything.
It seems I can't define or measure anyone here, not like I can with fabric, pins, and thread. But I've always known that, whether it's a first-time encounter or someone I've known forever.
Even now, I'm wondering what Prince Bruno is like. He could be a bossy, domineering university elitist with lofty opinions and little patience. Or maybe he has a different side.
'So, darling?' Licht beckons me over to a balcony, and suddenly we've gone from fabric and shadows to a dizzying vortex of glittering roofs and hot blue sunshine.
'Moonlit walk on the Ringstrauss?'
'It's daytime?'
'Honey, you're with royalty. We can do a lot with lighting and special effects on a national budget. If we want moonlight? We bring out the moon.'
I grin. 'And if we want sun?'
He steps closer, one hand at my cheek and his eyes searching mine. 'We blow the clouds away?'
'And if we want rain?'
His eyes light up with a grin.
Then we turn and yell to the kingdom, 'Then we'll make it rain!'
Chapter 6: Interview with a Glaring Prince
Chapter Text
~ Daphne ~
Daphne Dänot. Of Gherman descent and a native of the Kingdom of Glanzreich. A skilled swordswoman and tactician, she effuses a 'dapper' charm …
I thought that my demeanour would at least help me fit in with a household of princes, but given that their personalities are as far apart as the four corners of the earth, one would be hard-pressed to find a thing in common between them – let alone between them and me.
Between Prince Leonhard and Solana running off in the middle of a heated shouting match; Bruno and Chiara power-walking down the hall, and Licht and Elle strolling off, I almost lose track of my prince. But the moment I get clear of the crush, I nearly stumble into Prince Kai.
Well, that's one way to find him.
I almost take a step back. I'm that close to him. He's tall, and compared to me, that's saying something. He's not as tall as I expected, but still. And his hair really is white …
… And it's like looking in a mirror. Because I grew up in Glanzreich, I always received comparisons to Prince Kai. I was lanky, and I was always getting into accidents that involved me having to hack off my hair. I got tired of the comparisons, but I eventually left Glanzreich, and it never really bothered me either way. It never bothered me … except for that one time when something went down in the royal family – two years ago – and Prince Kai was all over the papers. The scandal followed me as well, or rather, I returned to Glanzreich for a time and walked right into it. Some random kids taunted me and chased after me with wooden toy swords until I snapped and yelled at them. Then I ducked into the nearest cafe and hid behind an oversized mug of milky kaffee until my train back to Fleur pulled into the station.
But despite all of that, and now that I'm actually here, it feels surreal – like I'm meeting a household name celebrity. One who's busy removing his gloves and not paying me a lot of attention.
Which I actually don't mind, but …
'Well, um …'
I'm not that chatty at the best of times, and … well … New people. You know.
Then Prince Kai holds out a hand with a question in his eyes. A handshake?
Relieved, I take him up on it. That I can do. 'I look forward to working with you, Prince –'
I break off and look down at my hand. He's… petting it?
I stare for several seconds, and I stutter out a few syllables before parsing a proper question. 'Prince, why are you petting my hand?'
He looks up mid-pat. 'Soft?'
'Um. Thank you.' Maybe Yulenka pestering me to moisturise my hands and buff out my fencer's callouses paid off. Still, this is somewhat scandalous when you consider that neither of us are wearing gloves. 'But again … why?'
Kai blinks. 'I like soft things?'
'Er … Okay?'
'Dafunii-san?'
I look up to see Rin. She's poised on the outskirts of the hall, about to leave but concerned enough to spare a look in my direction. I glance back at Kai, then shake my head. This is nothing I can't manage, so I'll be fine without assistance. It's just like dealing with a puppy, I think. Right? 'I'm fine, Rin, but thanks.'
She nods and darts out of sight, melting away into the shadows.
I turn back to Prince Kai. Part of me is having a mind blank.
The glaring prince, subject of scandal and subject to rumours – however disputed – of a violent streak. A student of the famous Theresian Military Academy, the place where Glanzreich crafts its most lethal and talented military personnel. A former student, for reasons that blew up the tabloids at the time in a fury of press and publicity.
Yet, in real life … he's a sweetheart.
I narrow my eyes. Why such a disconnect between the man and the prince?
Although Prince Kai is still petting my hand, I realise I've let the silence go on for too long. 'Well, Prince. Where would you like to conduct our interview?'
'… Ah. Interview.' He glances out the window, then says, 'Outside?'
'I suppose it is a nice day out.' A somewhat unconventional choice, but I don't really care. Then I realise this may be a good chance to get an advantage over the others and start learning the palace layout. 'Would you care to show me the palace grounds, Prince, if we happen to be going outside anyway?'
He nods. 'Mm.' Then he wanders down the hall, and I have to chase after him.
I can't help being distracted by our glittering surroundings, but my gaze keeps drifting back to Kai.
He glances at me again. '…?'
I thought he was a bit off with the fairies, but on the contrary, it seems he's quite sharp-eyed, both literally and figuratively. 'Oh, nothing. I just …' I suppress a laugh. 'I was just wondering how you keep your jacket on when you're only half wearing it like that.'
He glances, then turns around, trying to see what I mean, like a puppy chasing its tail. I stifle another laugh with my hand.
'Wide shoulders?' he finally says.
Two footmen open the doors for one of the palace side entrances for us. We step out into the sunshine. 'Ah, that explains it.' I shrug and half-smile. 'Never works for me. Small shoulders.'
He turns to me and measures the span of my shoulders with his hands. He nods thoughtfully. 'Mm. Girl. Small. Cute.'
My skin fires with a faint blush. He must be joking, right? I don't … think of myself as cute.
Correction – I'm not cute. I have ragged hair like a boy's, and it turned snow-white long ago after a nasty blow to the head. Measuring one's height with notches on the pantry door stops being fun when your younger brother gets furious because he can't reach high enough. And my face is so freckled that they used to joke that my mother must have left me in the kitchen as a child to be accidentally dusted with cinnamon.
I laugh awkwardly and pivot to look around the cobblestones. 'Ah, I'm not really cute – '
'All small things are cute,' Kai says sternly.
I nearly jump out of my skin. I don't think he meant it to be intimidating, but I still have the ridiculous urge to yell, 'Yes, Captain!' all the same. Actually, I'm not that small, either. I'm Kai's height with heels on. But, compared to the prince's broad-shouldered build, I suppose I fit into the small category.
'…But what about rats?' I ask. 'They're small, aren't they?'
Kai frowns. Then he stares into the middle distance. 'All small things are cute, even … but rats aren't cute …' Then he stops and shakes his head firmly. 'All small things are brethren. They share one spirit.'
'Wow. Um … So where are we right now?'
'Earth,' he says with a completely straight face.
'Talk about thinking on a cosmic scale…'
Come to think of it, he and Rin would probably get along well. They could meditate on the qualities of small, fluffy creatures together.
'I meant right here. Specifically.'
'Ah.'
Prince Kai turns away. I turn as well, taking in the towering walls on all sides and the statue watching over the proceedings. 'This is the Inner Castle Square.' A bitingly cold breeze twists over the shadowed cobblestones, and the crack of training swords makes me prick up my ears. A group of men wearing plastrons are conducting fencing drills on the far side of the square. I give them a longing glance. Kai pauses to look as well.
I can't help but note each thrust and parry, pursing my lips and examining the guards' footwork. I'd almost like to be over there myself. My weapon is a fencer's rapier, and I fence constantly. I've dreamed of pursuing it professionally, but, well … I know that can never happen. And besides, it's not like I'm good enough.
'They're members of the Royal Guard,' Kai says. 'We sometimes fence too.'
'You and your brothers?'
He nods. 'Mm.'
I wouldn't like to go up against him, to be honest. It would be a thrill, but someone so intimidating coming after you with a length of steel is terrifying, no matter how many times you face that threat or how much protective leather gear you wear.
'Leonhard is the best of us,' Kai says. I watch him as he talks. I wonder if this is actually his normal manner of speaking, in contrast to the forced, rough comments he bit out when he introduced himself to me and my girls. 'Bruno's also very good as well, but …' His smile fades. 'He doesn't enjoy it.'
The sharp clang of metal punctuates the silence. Again, I remember the newspaper articles and the kids taunting me in the street with toy swords two years ago.
'What about Prince Licht?'
Kai's smile returns. 'He's good as well. He can fence against left-handed opponents'
'Good heavens.' I take my eyes off the matches playing out on the other side of the courtyard and stare at the prince. 'That's nigh impossible!'
Kai tips his head and says, 'It was against Prince … Eugene. I think.'
'Oh. The younger Romano prince?'
'Heeey, Prince Kai!' One of the guards from the front gate walks past. It's the, um … stupid one. Sorry, the pink-haired one. 'And what was your name, Fraulein?'
'Daphne. You?'
'Ah. Maximilian von Rosenberg, favourite of the ladies, young hope of the guards and all that.' He gives me a flirtatious grin and tosses his training sword over his shoulder. 'Seems I'm in demand – I'm only here for a couple of days while Prince Licht's back in the castle, so I'm being dragged around the place for drills and shifts and all manner of backbreaking normality. How's your day going?'
'Great, thanks. Just finding my way around and, er …' Trying to get this prince down from the clouds long enough to get his signature? 'Yes. Quite.' Come to think of it, does that mean Prince Licht has been away from the palace? I tilt my head. I wonder why?
Maximillian glances me up and down, then says, 'Lord strike me blind, the two of you look like twins. You sure the king didn't have another daughter?'
'What – no!' I stammer. 'I'm from Glanzreich, and I have family here, and I … I get these comparisons all the time.'
'Not surprising.' Then he sees my rapier and raises an eyebrow. 'Hey, you fence, sweetheart?'
I glance down at the sheathed sword hanging at my side. 'Oh, this? Yes?'
'You should get some gear on and join in! Apparently, some of the higher-ups in the national guard have heard that some talented young ladies are stopping by, and it's been said that you might be joining in on some of the training!'
'Oh, wow. Um, thanks, but – '
He ignores me and squints at the piles of fencing gear beside one of the nearby fountains. 'Though I guess it would be better if you had your own gear on you,. or you may have to go up a size for chest room –'
'Borderline sexual harassment, Max!' Ludwig yells, clocking Maximilian a blow over the head with the hilt of his sword on the way past.
'Oh my word – why is everyone so hypersensitive!?'
'Good grief. I always thought I was kind of flat,' I mutter. I don't know whether to feel insulted or complimented. 'Anyway, maybe I'll stop by after I get my own gear from my luggage. My two-sword style could use some dusting off.'
'Now we're talking!'
'Max, move your – '
'I'm coming! Yeesh!'
I blink, and then I turn my attention to Prince Kai again. I almost forgot he was there with how quiet he is. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to neglect you, Prince – '
And he doesn't even notice me. He's wandered off, following a butterfly around the courtyard. Right.
I chase after him, wondering if I should call out or not. Then I realise that he might get hit by one of the swordsmen – oh, curses – but they all seem to be keeping an eye out for him, and he's essentially wandering through a maze of wooden swords unharmed.
'Uh, um, sorry!' I yelp, dodging, twisting and nearly spraining an ankle. 'Sorry?!'
'Just keep an eye out for yourself, girl!' Ludwig shouts and knocks an errant sword out of the way before it hits the prince.
'Wait, is this normal?!'
'Very much so!'
'What the hell?!' I block a stray sword with my sheathed one, resulting in a horrific clang.
'Hey, watch it! You try'na start a fight?'
'No, not right now!'
'Haah?!'
'Sorry!'
I stagger out on the other side, safely clear of a lethal crossing field. Kai has caught the butterfly on the tip of one finger. 'Cute…'
'My apologies, Prince –' Wait, why am I the one apologising? I get myself together and cough some air into my lungs. 'Prince …' I stop. 'Is something the matter?'
He's staring at the butterfly with a torn expression, as though he's being asked whether to unleash a causative effect that will create an alternate dimension. 'Cute … Want to pat, but… patting hurts its wings, so …' He exhales, then raises his hand and lets it fly away. 'Fly, be free.'
I stare. I hear hysterical laughter behind me. Wait a moment, why am I also being laughed at when this feels like a skit being acted out in an open-air theatre?
Then I realise that Prince Kai is wandering off again, and I chase after him, yelling, 'Wait!' which results in more laughter from the audience.
I exhale through my teeth and catch up to the prince. 'W-Where are we going now, Prince?'
He stops, a little surprised. Then he points at a low passageway that leads out of the Inner Castle Square. '… Gardens?'
I nod and follow him in. With a glance over my shoulder, I note another archway that must connect the inner court to the palace buildings, with said archway being adorned more ostentatiously than this low passageway. Despite being a native of Glanzreich, I have next to no knowledge of the palace's inner workings and layouts – that other exit could lead to the palace toilets, for all I know. But I'll have all month to get a better grip on the palace's interior, so for now, I'll focus on learning the layout of the palace grounds.
I fall into step with Kai, yet I stop at the sight of the palace grounds.
The air tastes like the sweet, burnt scent of cut grass. I see an endless sea of green and sculpted flora, a maze of crazy-paving paths, black iron fences and no end of hedges. Other landmarks adorn the landscape: a clock tower in the distance and a pagoda that is likely used for royal afternoon teas. And, of course, there's no shortage of fountains – providing enough water to douse the entire palace if it were to catch alight.
And the sounds – birdsong and a spring breeze. It's like time has stopped.
It doesn't end there, either. The palace grounds themselves far outweigh these little 'gardens' – the grounds sprawl over the horizon, flooded in forests and blurred at the edges like a vignette.
'… Wow. I never knew all of this was here.' Kai looks at me questioningly, and I say something vague. 'I used to live in Glanzreich, but you can't see the grounds from Kohl Street.'
'Mm.' Kai steps onto the path and points to the left. 'Library …' The national library, I'm guessing, otherwise known as the Prunksaal and housed in a wing off of the palace. He points to the right and says, 'Gazebo …' That's in the other area of the gardens. Then he waves somewhere in front of us. 'Clock tower … and cloud-watching spots.'
He looks back at me, saying nothing, but asking with expressive eyes.
I'm so used to being talked at. It's like I have to remember how to speak again.
'Arf!'
I jump and pivot to see a shaggy bundle of white fluff gambolling towards us. 'Is that the palace dog?' I ask.
'Mm. Here, Shadow.'
The dog stops beside me to have a quick chew on my sword hilt, then rolls down the steps to Prince Kai's side. The prince gets down on his knees with a smile, his hands tangled in the dog's fur. I can't help but smile too as I stroll down the steps. 'Does he like fetch?'
'Oh. Yes.' The grounds are immaculately kept, without so much as a stray leaf on the ground, so Kai snaps a stick off a nearby hedge and passes it to me. The knees of his trousers are already stained with grass and dirt, his shirt buttons are coming undone and his hair is stained with dust. I think he lost his gloves somewhere back there. He's got dog fur on his sleeves. He's smiling.
He looks better like this. Better than what, I have no idea – and I take the stick.
'So … anywhere down there?' I say, gesturing to where I'm going to throw. 'Nothing that I might hit?'
He shakes his head, and Shadow barks impatiently.
So I wind up for a throw – only to hit the brakes and nearly trip when someone vaults out of a first-floor window and streaks past me like a messenger to Athens.
'No! I'm not doing another blasted pop quiz! I just got done with that bratty girl and her stupid folder!'
The little tutor dives out of the window as well, passing me so quickly that all I can see is a blur of red. 'Your Highness, get back here at once! I didn't even give you that firstpop quiz, so – '
'No way!'
'Get over it already!'
'A-Are they all right?!' I stammer, watching them streak around the gardens like duelling fireflies. But it's Kai I'm talking to, and I don't think he's even noticed the prince and tutor. Something glitters in the corner of my vision, and I glance over to see Verene standing at a distance, waving a hand marked with silver. She winds up and lobs something in my direction. I snatch it out of the air as it sails overhead. A key.
'What's that?' Kai asks.
I look up and say, 'My room key, I assume?'
'Ah.'
A shriek echoes from the gardens up ahead. Our heads jerk up. Then Heine reappears, dragging Prince Leonhard along by the collar of his jacket.
'… A decisive victory,' I remark.
Heine almost looks like a demon from here. His amber eyes still smoulder with frustration. But then he sees me and Kai, and his expression quickly clears. 'Good day, Prince Kai, Fräulein Daphne. My apologies for, er …' He glances down at Prince Leonhard. '… That.'
I keep a straight face. 'Are you all right, Prince?'
Leonhard crosses his arms and yells, 'I am not! My dignity is marred!'
Heine gave him an unimpressed look. 'Bruised, Highness.'
'That as well!'
'And if you'd not dived out the nearest window, I would have told you that we were going to review a prior pop quiz, not undertake a new one. Will you get a hold of yourself, or do I need to borrow Sir Shadow's leash and –'
'I'm going already!' Leonhard yells, storming off with a haughty glare over his shoulder. 'I'm not a child –'
He crashes face-first into a side door, and I wince. 'Ow! Who put that there?!'
Heine wearily waves farewell and follows after Leonhard. 'Filiberto Lucchese put it there in 1660. You've had plenty of time to become aware of the door's placement.'
The doors in question swing open, revealing two startled footmen who are no doubt wondering what just hit them … literally. The tutor and prince disappear inside. I can still her them talking from here.
'Ooh, you think you're so smart, don't you?'
'I am smart – I'm the royal tutor.'
'And you're modest, too!'
'Kettle, meet pot, Highness…'
'What the heck?' And the doors slam shut.
I raise an eyebrow. Didn't Solana end up being paired with Prince Leonhard? In that case, she has my condolences.
'Leonhard's a good boy.'
It takes me a moment to realise that Kai just spoke. I turn to him. He says, 'He's just … shy.'
That's one way of putting it. I wind up for another throw, hoping that no one else is going to vault out of a window. Shy, huh? I throw the stick and wonder if it's true.
The stick whips through the air, on course to land a reasonable distance away. Shadow chases it, barking happily. He comes back with it firmly in his jaws, but he nearly trips up a stray passerby. 'Ow! Shoo, darling, shoo!' the man shrieks, with a strong Nederlands accent. 'And not the canvas, no!'
'Er, who's that?' I whisper.
Kai narrows his eyes, then shrugs. 'No idea … sorry.'
Shadow gets clear, and I give the man a rueful wave. 'Sorry!'
'Ah, it's all right –' Then the stranger is at my side and examining my face and arms. 'Mein goedheid! And what on earth are you doing here?'
'I'm sorry? Do we know each other?!'
'No, darling – "you" as in "raw, untapped potential". My my, very nice. Hm.' He steps back and gestures flamboyantly with a dozen paintbrushes in his fingers. 'I am Niche, the court painter, my lady!'
Ugh. He's sparkling. Tremendously so.
'Oi! Niche! Get back in your studio and leave the "untapped potential" alone!'
'You're hardly one to talk!' Niche yells back at someone else, an equally glittery man peering out from the archway leading to the Inner Castle Court. 'Who was it that was fidgeting for a chance to play with Prince Licht's hair, pray tell?!'
'That's my job, you idiot!'
'And … who's that?' I whisper to Kai.
He shrugs. '… Sorry. Not good with names.'
'He's the court hairdresser, darling,' Niche sighs. 'One of the many royal officials floating around the palace. Speaking of which, I must float off as well –'
A young woman standing on the path up ahead with an armful of paint tubes waves her free arm and says, 'Herr Niche? Sometime this week, if you would?'
Niche grimaces and sighs dramatically. 'Must I? I'm not feeling dreadfully inspired …' He glances at me and says, 'Tell me, darling, would you be interested in modelling?'
'What?'
'You have an unusual look to you, and I've been dreadfully bored with convention as of late.'
'Um … Thank you, I think … But modelling isn't really my forte …'
More to the point, I cannot turn up in a painting somewhere in Glanzreich … or my father will certainly kill me.
'Ah, if only there were more of you,' he muses.
I glance at the palace. '…Actually, there are.'
He follows my gaze to see Elle, standing beside Prince Licht on a balcony in all her voluptuous, sun-dazzled glory.
Herr Niche clasps a hand over his heart and staggers back. 'An angel has descended from the heavens, and behold, my muse has spoken!' He sprints down the path in the opposite direction, yelling, 'I will finish this boring portrait of some unimportant nobleman's daughter so that I may render that nymph on canvas! Witness me!'
The poor assistant nearly drops her paints all over the path, and darts after him. 'Wait, Herr Niche! The pagoda is that way!'
'Who cares? My muse is has spoken –'
'Look out for that hedge!'
'Inspiration does not stop for shrubbery! Forwards!'
…Madhouseindeed.
I risk a glance at Kai, and I nearly burst into hysterics at his unbothered expression. Look at all the bothers he gives – absolutely none. I wipe tears from my eyes and compose myself. No wonder he acts like this. It's probably the only way to survive without losing your mind in this place.
Shadow growls faintly. I realise he's still holding the stick. I pass it over to Kai. 'You want a go?'
'… Mm. Sure.'
He tosses the stick in the air and catches it. Then hurls it so far that it disappears in a sparkle of light somewhere over Fonseine.
Shadow whines and flops down in the middle of the path.
'… Oops.'
'Don't know your own strength, do you?'
'No …' He smiles a little, and I follow him down the path.
We leave the central courtyard behind and wander into another area, passing a maze of stone steps surrounding a clockwork tower. We discover a layout of fountains, rocks and lawns, a more casual environment than the rigidly kept gardens directly next to the palace.
Kai flops down under a tree without ceremony, and Shadow crawls onto his lap.
Now or never for that quiz, I suppose. I move to sit – then I remember that I'm wearing stilettos. I teeter and awkwardly tumble onto the grass beside the prince. 'Oof.' Cue the grass stains.
I blow my fluffy white hair out of my eyes, and take out my folder. The world is shaded here, a monochrome palette stained with green and blue.
Prince Kai touches the folder. 'You want me to fill this out?'
'Er, yes.' For his inattentiveness, he still manages to remain on top of certain things.
He takes the folder on his lap and fiddles with the pencil for a moment while he reads the questions.
I turn my attention to the landscape. Then I jolt as he takes my hand in his.
I stare at him for a moment. He's filling out the quiz with one hand, holding my hand loosely with the other.
I clear my throat, but I don't say a thing. I don't know what to say, really.
But then a blush burns and itches under my skin, and I can't ignore the subtext – that neither of us are wearing gloves, and that fact is positively scandalous. Not to mention that he's caressing the calluses on my palm in a way that is positively sensual.
Don't look at me, don't look at me, don't look at – if he looks at me, then I'll look like I'm on fire –
'Daff … Daphne?'
I nearly jump a foot in the air and whirl around, only for us to bump noses. Good heavens – accidentally kiss him and faint into his arms, why don't you?
'Daphne?' he repeats.
Then I realise he hasn't noticed a thing. His brow is creased, and he looks confused. 'Name … correct … yes?'
'What? Oh, yes. My name's Daphne.' I finger my cheek and say, 'Or, er … My friends call me Danny.'
'Danny …' He tilts his head. His blue eyes look softer in the sunlight, and his eyes are angled as though they've been pencilled in with kohl. 'Friends?'
I blink. Then smile. 'Sure. Why not?'
He smiles as well. It's so bright. I nearly forget about the hand-petting … but not quite.
'Er, Prince? This whole petting business …' I hold up my hand, the one still clasped in his. 'It's not quite … er …'
He opens his mouth, shuts it and then his eyes widen slightly. 'Oh. Oops.' He fidgets, fretting and gesturing with both hands as he tries to explain. 'Don't talk to girls often … I usually pat all the time … not proper … sorry …'
'Pfft.' I choke back a laugh. 'I didn't think my hands were even that nice. Fencer's callouses.'
'No. Soft.' He gives them a critical examination. 'Try moisturising, maybe. But very good already.'
Well, I'm glad to know that my hands are petting-certified by the second prince of Glanzreich …
'Thanks, I guess?' I make to ask him if he has finished with the quiz, then I realise that his eyes have wandered to my rapier.
'… You fence?' he asks
'Hm? Oh, yes.' I laugh, slightly embarrassed. I draw the rapier onto my knees, and the sheath glitters in the light. 'I love fencing. I enjoy it. I'm not very good at it, though.'
Kai says nothing for a minute. '… But you're a guard?'
I wince. Way to shoot yourself in the foot, Daph …
'I mean, uh …' I look down at the grass. 'Sorry, that's not what I meant. I can fence, but people always say I'm not good enough. Heh. I wanted to pursue it professionally, but, well … that can never happen.'
Daphne. Women don't fence, and I'll be damned if you disgrace our family's name and rank by thinking that you'd even have a chance.
That was over a mere little fencing tournament. My father would gut me with his own rapier, disown me and put my corpse on display as an example for my siblings if he found out that I took myself and my blades to the Chatons after leaving Glanzreich.
The wind plays around us. There aren't a lot of happy memories to be found by coming back here.
Then Kai puts a hand on my shoulder. 'I don't … know a lot about you, but … don't give up.'
Startled, I twist to face him and nearly hit my forehead on his. 'What?'
Then I see something like desperation in his eyes. Passion.
'People can say whatever they want, but they don't always know everything about you.' His hand closes tighter on my shoulder. 'They don't even know what you can really do, so don't … give up just because of what people say.'
That's easy to say, Prince. I finger the handle of my rapier. I've always grown up with my father and brothers' voices in my head. I'm a girl. I'm not good enough. I'm not good at it – I have to be good, I –
'Is it hard being royalty?' I murmur.
The question sounds stupid once it's out in the air. Being an heir to a throne carries tremendous pressure and responsibility – that much should be blatantly obvious to anyone.
'… Yes,' he finally says. 'It is. But only if you care. So … maybe you still care too.'
Maybe I still care enough to feel something – the prick of the sword in my hand when I want to put it down.
Why did I even go to the Chatons? Wasn't it so I could pursue the sword without my father breathing down my neck? Wasn't that the whole idea?
It kind of was, wasn't it?
'… Heh.' I bury the tip of the sheathed sword in the earth, wrapping my fingers around the hilt. 'So who would you say are the best fencers in Glanzreich, Your Highness?'
He smiles a little in turn. 'Leonhard. Maximilian.' I raise an eyebrow, recalling the flirty guard we ran into before. 'And my father … I mean … His Majesty.'
A shiver races down my spine. His Majesty Viktor von Glanzreich, the 'god of war' who transformed the Western Continent. I think you'd have to have a death wish if you wanted to fence with someone like that. But one tiny, stupid piece of me wonders how many seconds I'd last.
'And what about you? Do you fence?'
He doesn't answer right away. And I see that his smile has been stripped away like lacquer scraped off wood. 'I …' He opens and closes the fingers of one hand, like a flower uncertain whether it should open or not. He gives up and runs his hands through his hair. 'I don't. Not anymore. I'm too strong. And I promised that I wouldn't … ever …'
'Yes?'
'I promised that I wouldn't ever hurt anyone again.' He looks at me, and he looks tired. 'I … I guess you've seen the papers?'
Memories flood back in – of wooden toy swords and blurred newspaper articles. I shrug. 'I'm from Glanzreich, but I've been living in Fleur for a while now. I haven't been keeping up with current affairs.'
'Ah.' Prince Kai lowers his gaze. He bites his lip. Then he sighs and gets it over with. 'I … attacked another student while I was at military academy. It was about two years ago. Someone assaulted my brother, and I… beat him up. The incident was misreported, and my brother was also blamed. It was corrected recently. A little while ago.'
I say nothing for a second. Then rest my chin on my knuckles and say, 'I threw a man out of a second-storey window once.'
I ignore his visible shock and continue the story. 'He'd taken aside another waitress at a restaurant where I worked. He took her to one of the upstairs rooms. So I … pushed him out the window. It didn't go that well. There was a lot of paperwork. I had to leave town.'
His eyes are so wide that I'm tempted to click my fingers in his face. But I don't. I run my hands through my hair and grimace. 'That was me being young and idealistic, I'm afraid. Maybe I would have done things differently if I had more experience. I don't know. But I think I can see where you're coming from.' I bite my lip. 'If that's presumptuous, then I'm sorry.'
'… No. No, it's not.' He exhales. 'Yes. That was why I promised I wouldn't hurt anyone again.'
'And that's difficult. Isn't it?'
Glanzreich is prized for its army. For both selfish and noble ends, its military academies train the best, brightest and most lethal young recruits to ensure this kingdom's future. To be a prince in a military family – a prince that's still studying at military academy with the best of them, if I remember correctly – and yet hold convictions like that…
That's what 'impossible' looks like.
And I can relate, in a way. Because in my line of work, every day you're deciding whether to kill or not to kill, whether you'll stab or shoot, or whether you merely push them out a window – deciding whether to kill so that a child with a crown, title or privileges doesn't die.
It's twisted – like war. A necessary evil in many circumstances
'It is difficult,' Kai says. '… Yeah.' He closes his eyes. 'I'm still … working out what to do about it.'
'You and me both.'
I look up at the sky, gazing at a canvas of clouds. 'Hey. That one looks like a cat, doesn't it?'
'Mm. Dog?'
'… No. More like a wolf. With a bone.'
'Newspaper.'
'What's a wolf doing with a newspaper?'
'It's a pet.'
'Do you guys have any pet wolves?'
'Don't think so.'
'I think the Romano twins have pet wolves, actually. With a little sledge and everything. Hey, that one looks like your hair.'
'Yours too.'
We glance at each other. It's kind of like looking in a mirror.
'… Daphne.' He sits up a little. 'Do you … know …' He stops and shakes his head with what looks like utter frustration. 'Have you ever found a way to deal with …'
'It?'
'… Mm.'
'No. Not yet.'
He runs a hand down the length of my sword. 'Because … I don't know what to do. I don't know what hat I can do. And I keep coming back to this. Back to having to handle swords. Fighting.'
When I fought, I was originally fighting for the right to fight at all. The prince is fighting with what it means to fight. We're both fighting for …
What are we even fighting for? For what?
'I don't even know what I'm doing myself, to be honest with you. If Rin was here, though, she'd have something insightful to say.' I sit up as well. 'In Yapan, fighting with someone is seen as a gesture of respect and courtesy. You're each trying to help the other to improve. To better yourselves.'
Yet you're still training to fight … to kill. And that's a complexity that will never be unravelled until the sun burns out.
You never stop learning for your whole life, I guess.
Kai passes the sheet over. 'Finished.'
'Wait, you … Oh.'
I look it over. Sunlight bleeds through the ink and paper.
He signed it. Huh.
I fold the sheet with a quiet smile. It certainly took a lot to satisfy him, but I got the job done. 'I take it you found me to your satisfaction then, Highness?'
He blinks.
I point at the signed sheet of paper. 'You were asking me questions to determine whether you wanted to …'
He tips his head. 'I signed it ages ago.'
'What? When?'
'When I was patting?' He gestures. 'You know – work first, then patting?'
I stare. Then I choke back a laugh and strap my rapier to my waist again. I'm in no hurry to go, however. 'Well, as you wish, Highness.'
I'd close my eyes and enjoy the sunshine if it weren't for the fact that I'm now this prince's bodyguard. The wind burns my skin.
This may have been a literal walk in the park, but figuratively, I don't think it will remain so – because I'm meant to be a bodyguard to a prince who is currently enrolled in an all-male military academy.
It's a good thing I can pass myself off as a boy. It's a good thing that I look like I could be a distant relative of the Von Glanzreichs. The bad thing is that I can never, ever be found out.
Because then my father will make me rue the day I hit my head on a doorframe and turned myself into Kai's white-haired mirror image.
Chapter 7: Interview with a Little Princess
Chapter Text
~ Rin ~
Rin Kimura. A beautiful lotus from the land of the rising sun, and trained in the feminine martial arts of Yapan. Skilled assassin, a lady of the court, hidden in the shadows …
…That is not accurate. At all.
I trained in feminine arts as a geisha, then turned to cutthroat assassination as a rogue ninja before fleeing a Yapan that was still in upheaval from the cultural effects of opening its borders a decade and a half earlier. I then harnessed my shameful past and demons to aid me as a kunoichi – a female ninja – in the lands of the Western Continent.
And I am not beautiful, either. So cut all that 'lotus'nonsenseright out. For one, my eyebrows are too thick, and I am too tiny and flat for my age. Emphasis on small and flat.
Perhaps that is why I ended up as Princess Adele's guard. We are similar in size and proportions – if not in appearance.
I look around, one hand holding my wide-brimmed hat out of my eyes. It is all quite … glittery. I stand in the doorway with Yulenka. The two of us are the only ones who have yet to meet our charges. I stare in bewilderment at the girls and princes mingling in the corridor.
There are so many … princes. Six royal children altogether, I believe. I have seen many noble families in the Western Continent with large families, but it still surprises me every time. It must be a privilege afforded to noble families. Either that or foreign queens must be very lively in the bed chamber.
I make to flit down the hall and leave these noisy children to their squabbling, but I stop for a moment upon seeing Daphne dithering with her prince. She seems to be caught in a lengthy handshake for some reason. I grimace. This is why I prefer the bowing of my homeland. There is no … clinginess.
Daphne is one of my least annoying companions, so I offer her my assistance. 'Dafunii-san?' I ask.
Daphne looks and sees me. She glances at her white-haired prince, then shakes her head. 'I'm fine, Rin, but thanks.'
… Fine. I nod and take my leave. I can already see that little red-haired tutor making a dash for safety, so I follow his example and do the same.
I look around with narrowed eyes once I'm clear of being trampled. Purinsesu Aderu. I have been instructed to meet with this little princess, but I am not entirely clear on how I find her or where I meet with her –
'Fräulein Rin?'
Ah. This 'fraulein' means 'san', I think. I turn to see a young man with silver hair walking towards me with Yulenka in tow. I nearly step back. Such unnatural hair. He could be a mononoke –a wraith or a spirit. I nod in reply.
He offers me a bow, and I quickly bow more deeply. 'I am His Majesty's high steward, Jakob Frien,' he says. I have no idea what that title means, so I quickly bow lower, just in case, before straightening up. 'I have been asked to escort you to Princess Adele before I escort Fräulein Yulenka to the carriage stop so that she may travel to Schwarz Palace.'
I bow again, saying, 'Thank you,' and follow him.
Yulenka leans down to me as we walk. 'He's a member of the palace staff,' she whispers to me. 'He's the head of the palace's servants.'
'This is all very confusing,' I mutter. 'That aside, I will be praying for your success.'
'Likewise.'
I purse my lips and work my short legs to keep up with Yulenka and this 'high steward'. I don't know if it's that all these long-legged foreigners are tall or if it's me who's short.
… I'm inclined to think it's the latter.
Frien draws to a halt outside a gilded set of doors and holds out a hand. 'Princess Adele awaits you, Fräulein Rin. Good day.'
I bow again. 'Thank you.' Then I remember something and awkwardly say, 'My things?' It was all I could do to learn Fonsein when I came to the Western Continent. Gherman was never a priority for me, and Solana's frenzied efforts to improve our Gherman-speaking skills upon finding out we got this job could only do so much.
Frien nods, saying, 'Your things should be being delivered to your rooms even as we speak.' He takes a silver key from his pocket and holds it out. 'I will be giving you all keys to your rooms in Weisburg Palace later on, but as I happen to be here now, I can give you yours early.'
He turns and points to a nearby door. 'Your rooms should be relatively near to your charges for the sake of convenience.'
I bow deeply. 'Thank you very much.' I stare at the key. This whole concept of locking doors is somewhat unusual, even after all this time. It is not as though one can lock sliding rice-paper doors easily. And locking people out simply means they'll burn down your house with you in it instead. It is far better to let people in so you can stab them to death. Still, locks are a reasonable precaution in a new place.
Jakob steps back, focusing his attention on Yulenka. "Fräulein, you will have different arrangements, as you will be residing at Schwarz. If you would care to accompany me to the carriage stop? Someone from Schwarz will be here to pick you up shortly.'
Yulenka nods. The two of them head down the carpeted halls and out of sight.
I face the gilded doors.
Right. This is going to be a little bit different.
This is the first time I've babysat a little princess.
I take a deep breath and place my fingers together in a gesture that symbolises a sword and a sheath. Then I cut the air in sharp, repetitive strokes with a blade of two fingers, each stab in time with a word as I recite the protective spell that all ninjas chant before beginning training or entering enemy territory. 'Rin, toh, kai, retsu, zen, pyo, sha, jin, zai.'
Darkness sharpens the edges of my vision. My concentration is clear. I push open the doors and step inside with my hands on wooden panels.
I take in the sight of a sunroom. A red velvet couch that soaks up the sunlight serves as the focal point of the room. The princess herself sits on the couch like a little doll, framed by billowing layers of pink frills and corkscrew curls, her little hands playing with something sparkly and her little head nodding along to some unheard tune with a smile.
…Kawaii, I think, aghast. This cuteness is too much…
Her head bobs and she looks up, startled. 'Oh!' Her face lights up with a bright smile and she springs off the couch. 'Are you Rin? I'm Princess Adele – can I call you Rin-Rin?'
I nearly stagger back from all the sparkly cuteness, but my will cannot be broken so easily. The Tokugawas stood up to the adorable charms of Ishiwata on the battlefield, but I am a woman and therefore, I am of an even stronger spirit than the Tokugawas.
I graciously bow, kneel and lower my head to my hands placed on the floor. 'Call me what you wish, Princess. It is my honour to meet you.'
I finally look up, and she's bouncing around like an overexcited kitten. 'Nice to meet you, Rin-Rin!' Then she giggles and says, 'I can't believe that we get to be playmates for a whole month!'
'Nani kore?'
What?
She's nearly flapping her hands in her giddy excitement. 'Grandmother told me that my brothers and I are going to be entertaining guests at the palace all month, and they're all girls! I'm so excited! We're going to have so much fun!'
Oh no. Iya. Iya iya iya iya da yo – no!
I stare in what I hope is courteous attentiveness, but on the inside, I am shrieking. Very much so.
I don't know how to deal with small children. I am ill-suited to it. I do not play with them, and I do not know how to handle them. I am suited to guarding small, important royals from the shadows. I am not suited to playing spinning tops with them on the floor.
I am a bloodthirsty assassin, for the love of Ameratsu – the only 'toys' I play with are the 400 deadly and lethal tools of my craft!
'Your Highness,' I say. 'I am confused. I have a job to do here at the palace –'
'Job?' Whereas I feel confused, she looks confused, visibly so.
I blink. Was she not told? Then realisation hits me in all its staggering intricacy.
Of course – the reason she wouldn't have been told who or what I am is so that it will be even less transparent to those watching us that I am her guard! What brilliant deception – a skill prized by those who train in martial arts – and something I did not expect to come across in such potent form in the West. What dastardly individual orchestrated this, I wonder?
'… I have a job to do here at the palace, but I do not yet know what that job is. Tell me, Princess, what do you desire of me?'
She blinks – as though it were so obvious that the answer to my question may as well be written in kanji on her face. 'To be friends, of course!'
Ah, this foolish childhood practice of friendship. I suppose she is still young.
I steel my resolve and nod. 'Then I shall be your friend and companion, Princess. And as friends look out for each other, I shall look after you to the best of my ability.'
Friends looking out for each other. Being there in times of need. No girl left behind. All of these are phrases that Solana has snapped out or murmured or yelled at us in the heat of the moment, usually when someone is being inattentive and about to do themselves or someone else a disservice. All of these sentiments are as whimsical as haiku, and while I can't fully fathom the concept of friendship, I can understand the logic behind it, and I know that it will make sense to the princess as well.
Adele smiles and tugs me to my feet. 'Good! I've always wanted a friend, and I'll look out for you too!'
My mind blanks. This concept of wanting friends, as well as her friendlessness … and her words…
This is not the time for idle contemplation, so I put it aside and bow with my hand over my heart. 'As you wish.'
She observes me for a moment. I stare back while quickly taking stock of the situation. If she has not been told about our arrangements, yet she has still effectively agreed to become my ward, then I don't need to conduct an interview with her. My goals are already complete.
She places her hands on her hips and raises her eyebrows. 'You sure bow a lot, Rin-Rin. You really do.'
I bow again. 'You are a princess, Hime-sama. It is an appropriate gesture.'
'Hime-sama –' Then she bobs around, weighing my appearance with wide, curious eyes. 'I've never seen anyone like you before, Rin-Rin!'
I look down and realise what she's seeing. My long flowing sleeves, my sandals, and the shape of my eyes. I imagine that I must look very foreign to the princess – in the same way that she does to me.
'I am from the land of the rising sun, Princess.'
'Is it far? What kind of house do you live in? Do you have siblings? Do you have pets? Do you like playing with dolls? Do you – '
Then she realises that I can neither get a word in edgeways nor interrupt. My choosing not to interrupt is not so much the result of good manners, but the result of knowing that Adele's father is a feared god of war, meaning that if I upset or offend his precious daughter, then I may be chopped into individual pieces that will be distributed throughout the empire as an example of what is done to the insolent.
Adele eagerly awaits my answers. I say, 'It is rather far.' Another world altogether. 'I live in a townhouse in Fleur with some of my friends.' Because I left my homeland long ago. 'I do not have siblings.' Because they were slaughtered when my village burned, in the stereotypical way that children of no consequence in my country are. 'I do not have any pets.' Though I did have a cat, briefly, before it ran off after I threw it in the faces of persistent men one too many times. 'And I am unfamiliar with dolls.'
'You talk very neatly,' she observes. She smiles and asks, 'Are you a princess?' I shake my head. 'A lady?' Shake. 'A baroness?' Shake. 'A countess?' Shake, shake, shake.
She stops, her royal little world suddenly turning upside down like a toy box. 'Then what are you?'
'I am a mere commoner, my lady.'
Her eyes become as large as china bowls. 'Truly?' She claps a tiny hand to her lips. 'A real, live commoner … Wow.'
I resist the urge to grimace or raise my eyebrows. Is my status, or lack thereof, so unprecedented?
'Are all commoners so pretty and unusual-looking?' she asks.
I stare. '…No. Many commoners are not pretty. And most are normal-looking.'
She considers my answer, and then her face lights up. 'I can't believe that I made such a pretty friend!'
Fuwa-fuwa. Fluffy, airy – air-headed, perhaps – and generally soft and pleasant. She takes my hand and leads me over to the sofa, and all I can think is that if I had to choose between an unreasonable adolescent boy-child and a reasonable young girl-child, then I would pick the girl-child every time.
Though I have as much of an idea of what to do with her as I would with a goat-hair Bible … but that is beside the point.
The princess bounces onto the sofa, and I take a seat opposite her.
'Do you want to play?'
Play. Unfamiliar phrasing. '…I am happy to do whatever you wish, Princess.'
I watch her talking to herself, sorting through a trinket box of jewels on the table, running around the room and examining her endless supply of toys. There is even a … toy house that looks like the palace.
I drop to one knee beside it. She plops down beside me in a cloud of pink skirts. 'Do you like dollhouses, Rin-Rin?'
A house for dolls … Ah, I see. 'Is this the palace?' I ask.
She nods. 'Mm-hm! Look, that's my room there.' She points to a spot of pink, then points her fingers every which way as though her arms are the hands on a clock. 'And that's brother Leonhard's room, and that's this, and that and this and that and oh – '
She picks up a fluffy white ball. 'Have you met Sir Shadow?'
'Who is that?'
She giggles. 'He's my brother Kai's dog. Well, we all share him.'
'Is this Shadow a … pet?'
'"Sir" Shadow,' Adele corrects sternly. 'He's a hero and must be titled as such.'
I stare at the fluffy white pom-pom in dismay. Why would a royal household swear their fealty to a mere dog? Is it a deity?
I'm not sure how to ask in Gherman whether I need to offer Shadow-sama ritualistic sacrifices and burn incense before his kennel, but the princess has already moved on from the topic.
'Are you staying at the palace? Or are you staying somewhere else?'
'I'm staying at the palace.'
She clasps her hands together, gushing hearts, sparkles and roses to such an extent that I nearly hold up my hands in an attempt to dam the tide. 'Yay! We're going to have so much fun! So which room is yours?' she asks, pointing at the dollhouse.
'Oh. I do not know.' I take the key that Frien gave me from my sleeve. 'I have not found my room or unpacked my things yet.'
'Ooh, ooh, ooh – can you show me your room? I bet it's really cute!'
I have not even had the time to make my mark on the room in question, but I do not think that mark would be cute, even if I did. 'If that is your wish, Princess, then we may.'
She tugs me to the door, and we step out into the hall. I examine the key, but it does not indicate where the room itself is. And I'm not about to entrust my directional fate to a four-year-old, one who is looking about the hall with wide-eyed wonder as though this is the first time she's ever left her room.
'… I will not!'
'Prince –'
'No!'
A golden-haired prince-child and a small tutor stalk into view, still arguing hotly.
'Prince – '
'Inter die holle!'
'While I believe that young people should exercise their right to object – on occasion – I also believe that you are going to pull a volitional muscle, Prince.'
'I am not in the mood for –'
They finally see us. The prince skids to a startled halt. I think this one was … Prince Reonharudo. Leruon… Haru… Something like that?
He's still staring. I wonder why. I suppose my unusual looks may have something to do with it, or he could merely be trying to remember which one I am.
Then I notice the tutor nudging him gently, saying, 'Go on, Prince.'
'Heine!' the prince hisses. He looks mortified, but with one last shove, he stumbles in my direction. He skids to a halt, and I hurriedly tip my hat up before he cuts his delicate, china-like face on the razor-sharp blades beneath the brim.
'I, uh …' He rakes a hand through his hair and smiles tentatively. 'Konnichiwa. Waisuburugu kyou e youkosou.'
I stare up at him. What? Did I just hear him speaking Yapanese?
After a long silence, his composure breaks. He whirls around in dismay, wailing, 'Heine! How could you make me do that?! She didn't understand a word I said – you're horrible – '
'Ano.' I cough and clear my throat, gaining the traumatised prince's attention. 'Sumimasen. Chotto bikkurishimashita. Nihongo wa hanasemasu ka?'
Prince Leonhard pauses, then says carefully. 'Hai. Hanasemasu.'
I bow and say, 'Sumimasen. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.'
The phrase does not have a suitable foreign equivalent, but it means both 'let's get along' and 'nice to meet you'. My language is a charmingly concise yet infuriatingly vague one. It's all the more reason why I'm baffled that the prince chose to learn it, especially when he will almost never require it for practical use.
His face lights up. 'Hai! Kochira koso!'
Same here! I almost smile. That such a brat, outwardly appearing at least, would go to the trouble of learning my home language, for whatever reason … it's an honourable gesture.
'Nande nihongo wa hanashimasuka, Ouji-sama?'
Why are you studying Japanese, Prince?
'Ah, er, ano…' He snaps open what looks like a phrasebook but pauses, then he throws it over his shoulder. Heine snatches it out of the air and gives the prince a cross look. Leonhard ignores him, gesturing awkwardly. 'Ano, eto, uh…' He inhales. 'Mono kara!'
Because of reasons? Seriously?!
'Go o benkyou shimasu wa sukimono desu… you… ne?' he stammers.
…I like studying Japanese? I blink. So he's simply studying for the sake of studying? His grammar is atrocious, yet he's bold enough to attempt to speak regardless. It makes me feel as though I should make an effort to learn more Gherman. I can speak a little of some foreign languages, but my comprehension is far better across the board. I would prefer not to speak unless I can speak well.
Yet for him to put himself out there regardless…
I nod and say, 'Sou desu. Ouji-sama no nihongo wa ii desu yo!'
He grins. 'Arigatou!'
Heine folds his arms and looks at us curiously. 'Prince … How would you have said that in Gherman?'
'Oh. "I speak Japanese because I like learning foreign languages.'"
'Ah,' I say. 'Gaikugo o benkyou suru koto kara, boku wa nihongo o hanashimasu.'
He looks at me in surprise. I say in his language, albeit haltingly, 'I can speak some Gherman, and I understand more than I speak. Yet your knowledge of my language is a great honour.'
'A-Ah, well…' Then he places his hands on his hips and says, 'That's right, you should be honoured!'
'And he's back,' Heine says, unimpressed. He bows to me and says, 'To clarify, Prince Leonhard has been studying foreign languages for some time, and he was quite beside himself at the opportunity to converse with someone else in Yapanese –'
'I was not!' Leonhard snaps.
'That aside, I believe you may be able to learn from each other, no?'
Leonhard and I glance at each other. 'Do you mean that you want me to help him improve his Yapanese?' I ask
Leonhard opens his mouth to protest, but Heine cuts him off. 'If it agreed with you. And I'm sure you would be happy to assist our guest if needed, wouldn't you, Prince Leonhard? As part of your royal duties?'
Leonhard grumbles under his breath. 'Fine. Because I'm so helpful and obliging and talented and – '
Adele peeks out from behind my pant leg, and the prince's face lights up. 'Adele!' He sweeps her up and spins her around, the princess shrieking giddily. 'What are you doing out here?' he asks.
'Playing with Rin-Rin! We're bestest friends now, and she's going to show me her room!'
At the words 'bestest friends', the prince's smile freezes. I hear the sound of his pride crumbling into pieces, akin to the sound of breaking glass. He sets her back down in a daze. 'Oh … Okay.'
I wince. I am not particularly invested in the prince's emotional state, but perhaps I should attempt to smooth things over. 'Your Highness, would you perhaps like to join us –'
'No!' Adele says, clutching my hand. 'I get to see him all the time, and he's my brother, but you're my new special friend, so he's just going to have to wait!'
I'm tempted to pass a cloth to the prince in case he begins coughing up blood from all the verbal barbs. 'Prince –'
'How dare you lead my sister astray, you, you … girl!' Leonhard snaps, crossing his arms in a huff.
'Prince.' Heine says wearily. 'Use your words.'
'What's wrong with those ones?' he asks in bewilderment.
Heine sighs and drops to one knee to speak to Princess Adele. 'Now, now, Princess. Your brother simply wants to spend some time with you –'
'But I want to play with Rin-Rin!' she pleads. 'Just us!'
Leonhard looks hurt. Surprisingly, I think I'm very much on the same page as the little tutor – mendokusai, what a drag already.
Heine thinks for a moment, then he stands up and says to Leonhard, 'I know you and the princess often spend a lot of time together, but why don't you let her have some fun with Rin-Rin? You know that the princess doesn't have any friends her own age, let alone friends who are girls.'
'But Rin-Rin isn't her age …' Leonhard trails off, staring at me. I purse my lips. Is everyone going to call me 'Rin-Rin' now? '… Huh. Well,' he says, crossing his arms, 'I guess I can put up with it, for Adele and all!'
But despite his bluster and bravado, he still looks disappointed. I might as well try to make him feel better. 'It's all right, Prince. Inviting someone into my chambers means they would see the tools of my trade, and men are forbidden from learning the arts of the kunoichi.'
Heine and Leonhard both look confused. I realise I'm going to have to explain. 'Adele wished to see my things, and as my things are the tools of feminine arts studied in Yapan – are barred to men – I would not be able to invite you in even if you wished.'
Leonhard promptly blows up in outrage. 'What?! That's not fair! Unfair, unfair! Can't I …' He looks desperately at Heine.
Heine adjusts his glasses and coughs. 'Unless you have been deceiving the entire palace all along and are actually a princess, I'm afraid there's nothing you can do about that one, Highness.'
'But can't I … Ah! Couldn't I dress up as a girl?'
'In theory? Yes. Effectively? No. Leave Adele and Fräulein Rin-Rin to their fun and be an adult about it, please. Besides, surely you would like to spend some more time with your own guard, no?'
Leonhard's expression blanks. Then he hisses, 'No, I most certainly would not! She's rude and bossy and demanding and mysterious and insufferable and a complete headache, and I wouldn't think twice if I was told that she was related to you, Heine!'
'My, she sounds interesting indeed. Either way, you'll have to learn to get along with her and all our guests – oh, say goodbye to Rin-Rin and Adele, by the way …'
Leonhard barely spares me a glance, still ranting about Solana as Heine guides him down the hall with a hand on his shoulder. 'Bye,' he says, and heads off with Heine in tow, and… Oh, I see what the little tutor did there. Very cunning.
But I realise I forgot something. I step forward and blurt out, 'Machinasai yo!'
Leonhard stops and turns back. His brow creases. 'What?'
I finally hold up my key and admit, 'Forgive me, but we were unable to locate my room.'
Leonhard doesn't move for a moment, then he marches over and snatches up my key, holding it up to the light.
'… I have no idea,' he finally says.
''Ttaku, Ouji.'
'Don't 'ttaku me.'
Heine takes the key out of his hand, looks around, and then fits it into a silver keyhole for a set of doors next to Princess Adele's room. 'I thought as much. As far as I was told, the guards' rooms should be close to their respective charges, and I believe that your luggage should have been screened and delivered by now.'
I bow deeply and say thank you. 'Good day, Sensei, Prince.'
Prince Leonhard opens his mouth at once, then finally clenches his jaw. 'Fine.' He turns and sticks out a hand to me. 'For the record, I strongly resent that you're my sister's new favourite obsession, but I suppose you're not completely terrible. Nice to meet you.'
Mendokusaiii … But I take his offered hand, both sets of fingertips touching his gloves. 'Kochira koso.'
And for a moment, a smile graces his face, so sweet and pure that it looks almost angelic. Then he and Heine are striding down the hall, snapping at each other like a pair of oni, and all I can think as I open the doors and usher Princess Adele into my room is that you can't judge anyone around here by surface appearances.
'You'll like Professor Heine,' Adele informs me, bouncing inside and looking around.
'Is he your … tutor?' I ask.
'Hm? Oh, no. He's my fiancee!' she says brightly.
'Eh?'
I blink. Though my country is tolerant of age differences, I think this is the kind of age gap that would have Solana screaming and flailing in a rage. And I did not think that the royal children would be having relationships with palace staff … Is the tutor of some special importance, then? An object of worship? And come to think of it, do they worship their king as a deity – a 'god of war' – as we worship our Emperor in Yapan? I very much need to gain knowledge of the family's religious beliefs, but I don't think the princess is the right person to ask.
'Ooh, so this is your room!' Adele spins around until she makes herself dizzy. 'I like it!'
I look around for myself. It is somewhat characterless as of yet, but it is still opulent. I see that I'll be expected to sleep in a bed. And shoes… I'm not certain about whether we are supposed to wear shoes indoors, but it seems this is a traditional Western room, with chandeliers and all the accoutrements.
My only mark on the room so far is a pyramid of black crates, which Adele is already looking at curiously. 'Are these your things?'
'Yes. I suppose I need to unpack.'
'Ooh, I'll help you!'
I raise my eyebrows. But if seeing my things will entertain her, then I have nothing to lose.
So, I unstack the boxes and flip the lids up. The room has suddenly turned into an armoury with 700 flavours of death.
Oh. Oh dear. I do hope she doesn't ask why I have 98 different kinds of knives.
'Ooh. Shiny.' She looks on wide-eyed.
But it's not all death and destruction. I have drawers of formal kimono, as well as different tools of the Japanese arts. Who better to distract the enemy than a foreign beauty who can dance, play the koto, and make tea?
'What's this thing?' Adele asks, holding up a deadly chain and sickle. 'Is it a toy?'
'… That's for cutting wheat.'
She puts it down, and my heart begins beating normally again. Phew. She picks up a grappling hook. 'What's this?'
'That's for getting garbage out of wells.'
'And this?'
'…That's a tobacco pipe.' Albeit with a blade hidden in the stem.
Adele wrinkles her nose. 'Brother Eins smokes. Grandmother says he's going to kill himself in the prime of his life. Ooh, this is pretty, what's this?'
'… That's a hairpin,' I say, taking it from her. A hairpin loaded with enough poison to kill a man –
I hear a knock at the door, and we turn to see a woman sweep into the room. I instinctively jump to my feet. She wears formal attire, and despite her nervous, fretting demeanour, she has the straight posture and blue eyes of the rest of the royal family, though her hair is grey. She does not wear a crown, but she carries herself as though she wears one that I cannot see.
'Ah, Adele, dear heart, there you are, and … Who are you?'
This must be Maria von Glanzreich, the mother of the reigning king … A woman who could very well have power in the kingdom and behind the throne. After all, every successful man has a woman behind him, does he not?
I bow as low as my height permits me. 'It is an honour, Your Majesty.'
She smiles and touches her gloved hands together. 'Ah, you must be one of the foreign representatives visiting the palace. I've heard that my grandsons are going to be looking after you while you're here. And do stand up, my girl.'
I raise my head and suddenly become aware of the crates of weapons at my back, filling every inch of space behind me. I'm also aware that Maria is looking over my shoulder. Then she looks at Adele.
'But what are you doing here with Adele, child?'
My heart slams into my ribs. I say, 'As a representative of my home country, Yapan, I will be Princess Adele's companion for the duration of my stay. I will also be her instructor in a cultural exchange, in which I will teach her the feminine arts and womanly training of my culture.'
I don't know how I got all that Gherman out without tripping on my own tongue. I can only put it down to the aid of the spirits in this land.
Maria pauses and looks at the crates again.
Then beams in a truly grandmotherly fashion and says, 'My, how wonderful! It will be lovely for Adele to have a little friend around!'
Adele clings to my arm and jumps up and down. 'We're going to have so much fun!' she says.
'Indeed, I'm sure you will.' Maria turns back to me and says. 'Well, enjoy your stay, my dear. What was your name?'
I abruptly bow again. 'Rinako. Rinako Kimura, Your Majesty. It was a pleasure to meet you.'
'Likewise, dear, likewise. We'll have to get together for tea sometime. I hear that the tea from your home country is quite an interesting blend. And we'll have to invite Lady Beatrix, won't we, Adele?'
'Yes, yes!'
Maria smiles. 'Well, I'll leave you to your own devices, dears. Good day!'
She sweeps off, and for some reason, I feel as though I need to take a pill of some sort.
Adele begins scampering around again, and I regain my composure. This is going to be … interesting. I've heard that most babysitters' problems lie in hiding alcohol and affairs with the children's parents from the children. Here, I simply have to entertain the princess for the whole month and keep her out of all my poisons, blades and poisoned blades. It should be simple enough – I'll keep certain drawers locked. And though I will dislike reducing some if my tools to toys for the sake of entertaining the girl, there is no real harm in it.
Adele looks up at me, pointing at a tray of shuriken, otherwise known as throwing stars. 'Rin-Rin! What are these?'
'… They're like throwing darts. You throw them, like so.'
'Ooh, can you teach me how? Please?' she pleads.
I consider. Then I sit beside her and say, 'As you wish, but I will hold your hand through. They're sharp.'
I teach her how to pick one up and the motions that you would make to throw, and I can't help but wonder, as I teach this adorable little girl to throw a sharp bit of steel, what her father would think.
Would the god of war be interested to hear that his daughter is playing with my tools of war?
We throw the little star, and it thunks into the side of a suitcase.
Or would he have my blood for it?
'I did it!' the princess says with a delighted laugh.
I pray that my intuition is right.
'Hai, Hime.'
I pray it every day.
Chapter 8: Interview with the Black Prince
Chapter Text
~ Yulenka ~
Yulenka Motkovic. A dancer from the land of snow. A proud sniper trained in the marksmanship of the Orosz military. She takes out her targets with the grace of a prima donna, dances like a princess and promises dark fascination for those who can pay the price …
… Dark fascination? Verene must have been feeling creative that day.
Black hair, black eyes, and a black dress – that is what those couplets reference, but they barely scratch the surface.
Dark heart. Black past.
Silver bullets.
But my past does not matter here – and besides, I drowned my past in vodka and set it afire long ago.
All that matters now is me, myself and my rifles.
I follow Jakob Frien. He takes me down corridors and sets of staircases, past dappled portraits of faded scenes and long-dead royals, beneath chandeliers that I look up at as we pass beneath, wondering if it would really take all that much to sever the chains that hold these forests of glass aloft.
Footmen open a set of double doors for us – doors that open out onto a marble staircase and a paved inner courtyard that leads out into a driveway. As I wait for the doors to open all the way, I hear footsteps and glance over my shoulder. The palace's little tutor walks down the corridor, and I realise that, for once, I am grateful for my height. Though it puts me head and shoulders above many people, to be such a little thing and fend for oneself in a world of courtly intrigue and politics mustn't be an easy task.
He sees me and doesn't slow his pace. 'Fraulein Motkovic?'
'Yes.'
'A pleasure. I take it that you're about to leave for Schwarz Palace?'
Jakob is waiting in the doorway, which is edged with sunlight. My feet trace a path beneath my skirts in that direction. 'Yes. I will be residing at Schwarz Palace and working in Prince Eins' service. I look forward to rejoining those of you here at Weisburg when circumstances permit it.'
'Understood.' He passes me, briefly taking my hand. He gives me a warning glance. The pads of his fingers feel cool to the touch, and soft, like a kitten's digits, sheathing a row of claws.
'Be careful.'
His eyes don't leave my face. And a chill sets in, all too familiar.
It appears that it is my fate to escape from one struggle for power only to fall headlong into another one. Already, it seems there are dangerous undercurrents at play in this kingdom.
I do not feel like the tutor would give me a warning unless he truly thought it necessary. I've only just met him, yet he's treating this more seriously than a game of Orosz roulette.
'I will.'
The little tutor releases my hand, and his expression is as unreadable as a blank piece of paper as he walks off, glancing at me over his shoulder. 'Good day, Fraulein Motkovic.'
After a moment, I turn back to Jakob, who says, 'Your carriage and escort to Schwarz await you, Fraulein, and I will bid you good day.'
'Thank you –'
And that's when I notice the faint hint of interest on his face.
I wince. It's something I've seen too many times before. And it's not his fault. But I think I would rather slit my own throat than get involved with another man.
I give him a sharp nod and step into the wind and sunlight. The doors close behind me.
Polished, gleaming carriages occupy the palace's internal driveway. This must be the palace's carriage stop. With one hand on the railing, I take the marble steps down to the cobblestones. But before I reach the bottom of the steps, I come to a halt.
A polished ebony carriage awaits – as though Count Dracula had been the one to send Cinderella's carriage this time. But it was not the carriage that stopped me in my tracks, but rather, the man leaning against it.
He holds a book in one gloved hand, a play script of a work by Oscar Wilde. He's dressed to perfection. He wears a white suit with blood-red accents, and his two-toned spectator shoes are polished to a shine. But my attention is taken by his features. Glassy skin, eyes that are red like ruby wine, and his hair, a snowy white that would be prized in my homeland – a gift from Mother Orosz. Beautiful, yet beneath the cultural context, a startled thought pops into my head – is he … albino?
He sees me and swiftly returns the book to the depths of his coat. He watches me as I stand frozen on the steps. Even his eyelashes are white, framing glittering red eyes. Even his mouth is perfectly shaped. 'Yulenka Motkovic?'
'Yes.' I walk down the steps, raising my voice above the whisper that originally came out, saying, 'Yes, I am Yulenka Motkovic of the Chatons de Fleur.'
I step onto the cobblestones, and he offers me his hand. There's no warmth beneath his gloves, yet he's so beautiful, with such an expressive face. It feels like he's made of snow.
It feels for all the world as though I'm taking to the floor to dance with the devil.
'It is a pleasure, my lady.' Such a pretty thing, and he can smile too. The gods certainly distribute their blessings unevenly. 'I am Prince Eins' high steward, Count Rosenberg of Weisburg Palace.'
My eyes widen, and I bow swiftly … But is that not always the way – that members of the nobility are especially blessed with such unearthly grace and looks?
Professor Heine's words ring in my head. Be careful.
Be careful … because someone so beautiful and perfect must have something to hide …
During the drawn-out silence, several footmen heft my black, metal-studded trunks onto the roof of the awaiting carriage. Count Rosenberg rests his cane against the ground. The head of it is a gleaming silver eagle that watches my every move. 'I take it that you had safe travels from Fleur?'
'I did, thank you.'
'Wonderful. Would you care to depart?'
Black seeps into the edges of my vision as wisps of hair frame my face. To step into that carriage will be the same as stepping into danger itself. Yet I know I must have been assigned to go to Schwarz expressly because I am the best suited of all the Chatons to deal with something like this.
The footmen lash my luggage to the roof of the carriage.
'As you wish, my lord.'
And with a flash of those dangerously white teeth, he offers me his hand to help me into the carriage, the doors swinging open under the invisible touch of accompanying servants.
I step into the dark, into leather that is dark like chocolate, into a dark interior like a smoking parlour, like a den of thieves, like a brothel – a place that little girls should not go.
… Good thing that I'm not a little girl.
Count Rosenberg climbs in behind me and the doors close. With a jolt, we leave Weisburg behind.
He parts the curtains with one hand, a swathe of light fading into the air between us. 'So, my dear.'
So, my dear. I love you, my dear. Kill yourself, my dear.
I press my lips together, ignoring the voices.
The scenery passes in silence – coffeehouses and boutiques, streetlamps and wide roads. Rosenberg stares at me, his teeth making a dent in his perfect lips.
'Yes?'
'Tell me about yourself.' He rests his cane across his knees and gives me a sunny smile. 'After all, I wouldn't even call us acquainted yet. And seeing as this charming little idea was entirely His Majesty the King's, and we had nothing to do with it, I'd like to know a bit more about this young lady who's been foisted upon us.'
It takes me too long to work out whether that was a veiled insult or if my non-existent Gherman is lacking, and his demand renders me silent. Then I realise, with a vague sense of impending doom, that I may … not actually be wanted here.
Aside from the younger princes' childish antics, I'm locked inside a carriage, on my way to meet a prince I don't know, in a palace I don't know, with a man whose depths I can't even fathom.
I can't even decide whether this man wants to welcome me or throw me out of this moving carriage.
After a long silence, Rosenberg's brow creases. 'What's wrong, my darling? I don't bite.' He looks genuinely concerned … as genuine as fake diamonds, perhaps.
I wipe every trace of expression from my face. 'My apologies. My Gherman is not the best.'
If my only alternative is him realising that I'm suspicious of him – even if there is nothing to suspect – then I would rather him think me linguistically incompetent. Which I somewhat am, admittedly.
He purses his lips. 'Oh. Pardon me.' He softens his expression. 'Tell me about yourself.'
And that's an order.
'I am Yulenka Motkovic of the Chatons de Fleur. I trained in the Orosz military as a female sniper before I joined the Chatons.'
'My my.' He arches an eyebrow. 'And what would make such a lovely young lady run away to join the military?'
'I did not run away.' I was thrown out of my old life and took my leave. 'I was merely looking for a change of scene.'
'I can't imagine joining the military was a decision made on a whim.' He fingers the head of his cane, caressing the wicked metal facets. 'What of your background? Your upbringing?'
'It is nothing of consequence. I was brought up in Orosz, in a middle-class family, then I went to Fleur when I joined the Chatons.'
He says nothing, then smiles. A polite, sunny smile with his eyes closed. 'I see. My apologies for the … questions.' His eyes open, and he looks anything but apologetic. 'As Prince Eins' high steward, it is my job to know everything about everyone who comes into contact with the prince.'
I see. He must take his responsibilities as the prince's right-hand man quite seriously. Yet despite the reasonable grounds for his concern, his masked, ruthless questioning gave me the impression of a torturer delicately picking and choosing from his favourite toys.
'And besides.' Another sunny smile. 'I just thought we could get to know each other a bit … but we'll have all month to do so, after all.'
Is this man an angel? Or a demon? Or worse … a fallen angel?
Finally, I say, 'Yes, my lord.'
He leans back in his chair, toying with the head of his cane. 'So, my dear. If your duty is to … guard the prince, I take it that you have your own weapons and such?'
'Yes, I do. Weisburg Palace already screened my luggage.'
He looks me up and down. I'm tempted to kick him, but I'm told that my kicks are quite brutal, so it's not a risk that I can take.
Finally, he says, 'And I take it that you're not armed at the moment?'
He takes my silence as confirmation. I could correct him, but I'd rather throw myself out of the carriage than indicate exactly where my weapons are on my person.
He gives me a pointed look. '… I hope you know what we're expecting of you.'
'Nothing less than perfection, my lord.'
'… Well. Yes.'
I nod. 'I will do my best to live up to your expectations.'
He regains his composure, though he seems to have only misplaced a mere fraction of it. 'I look forward to seeing you in action. I do not know what the prince himself will require of you …' His eyes narrow. '… But I expect you to do nothing less than your best for the entirety of your stay. I expect you to be armed at all times and to be aware of your place. You will be the prince's shield, first and foremost, and you should devote all your efforts to your task.'
'Understood, my lord.'
It's strange. Each time I call him 'my lord', his expression flickers.
I hesitate, then I ask him about it. 'Is something wrong? Is my Gherman not …?'
He blinks. 'What? No. No. It's simply that I address Prince Eins as 'my lord', so it's peculiar to be addressed in the same manner.'
'Oh. Should I call you something else?'
'… No,' he says. 'No. That will be fine.'
Ranks and titles are what they are, after all. And it's strange, because despite the dangerous circumstances of our meeting and all the complicating factors, I think that the young count and I may actually be around the same age.
It's a strange world in which young people have their hands in courtly politics and espionage. It just makes me all the more wary. Because how did this young man attain a position of such power and prestige – the position of servant to the crown prince himself – at such a young age?
Count Rosenberg draws the curtains back, and I follow his gaze. My eyes widen.
This must be Schwarz Palace, but it's such an extravagant piece of architecture that it's nearly on par with Weisburg Palace itself. The gates are a mist of finely woven black iron, barring entry to a beautiful estate and building.
'Nice little place, isn't it?' Count Rosenberg says, letting me lean forward to get a better look. 'It was gifted to the royal family by a military general.'
It's an entirely different world, despite the similarities of our professions – in that the people in this world can gift land and palaces freely, exchanging gold and treatises like party favours.
I just pray that I'll survive the month.
The carriage draws to a halt on the driveway, and Count Rosenberg disembarks. He offers me his hand, and I take it, stepping onto dark stone beneath a wintery sky flooding with clouds. The palace towers so high that the roof can barely be seen. Like Ivan's house. Like the roof of the academy. Like St. Peter's Cathedral in my beloved homeland.
'Are you all right?'
I don't need to look to know that the count is watching my every breath. I don't know whether he's asking out of concern or manipulation, but I don't need to know.
I've survived thus far, on snowy streets and in rigid academies, in the military and in foreign countries.
I've survived men like him before. I can do it again.
'I'm fine, my lord.'
We start up the steps, my black garments disappearing into the shadows overhanging the palace entrance.
The doors swing open, and the two of us walk onto a black-and-white checkerboard of marble. Servants and maids sweep into bows and curtsies as we pass. It's beautiful, it's austere, it's …
… It's like a faded, mirror version of Weisburg.
I wonder if it gets lonely, being one prince living alone in a family of many.
If Weisburg was sunshine, then Schwarz is moonlight – bright and piercing, but also flooded with shadows and shades of grey.
As I follow Count Rosenberg down the chessboard floors, each flicker and fragment of detail coalesces into the knowledge that I might be right – that I'm stepping into dangerous waters.
If Weisburg is meant to be a madhouse, then this must be a house of mirrors.
Count Rosenberg knocks on a set of double doors flanked by two footmen, and I stand to attention. If this is what the prince's high steward is like … then what of the prince himself?
'Your Highness,' Count Rosenberg says, stepping inside with the grace of a dancer. 'Yulenka Motkovic of the Chatons de Fleur.'
I step inside, each step part of an elaborate curtsey that tastes of dust, of roses and of performing on stage. 'It is an honour, Your Highness.'
I look up to see what looks like a scene from an Edgar Allan Poe novel come to life. A prince crafted of ebony and ivory, completely still, as though chiselled from marble, eyes closed as though they were drawn on his features with kohl.
But for the trees moving outside, I would think that time had stopped.
Then his eyes flash open. A shiver bolts down my spine.
'An honour, is it?' He crosses the room, and I dig my heels into the carpet. With such chiselled features and cold eyes, he is not like his brothers in the slightest. The only commonality is that their eyes are the same shade of blue. He's older, taller, darker … and more terrifying.
He stands before me, his eyes flicking up and down, displeasure etched across his brow. 'Tell me … Miss Motkovic. You are to be my new guard?'
'Yes?'
He holds out a hand in a gesture that says I should expedite a handshake as quickly as possible in order to reduce physical contact. 'Effective today?'
My fingertips brush his palm. 'Yes?'
'Then … are you armed?'
And I freeze – because now I can't say yes, not without Count Rosenberg calling me out for being a liar.
'No.'
Prince Eins looks as though I just insulted his kingdom to his face. His expression darkens like a brewing thunderstorm. He slaps my hand away, the crack ringing in the deathly silence. 'Then we're done here.'
My hand, still tethered to my arm, drops to my side. My palm throbs.
Count Rosenberg narrows his eyes. 'My lord –'
'Don't.' Eins stares at me. His lips part briefly, in barely restrained distaste. 'I had no part in summoning you here, Fraulein. My father took it upon himself to extend your services to Schwarz as well as Weisburg. And what do I hear, mere days before your arrival, but that you are a girl? For half a moment, I dared imagine that perhaps this could be an unprecedented development in the personal protection service – the idea of female guards.'
He gives one look at my supposedly weaponless state and scoffs. 'But no – a guard who doesn't even have the presence of mind to arm herself before coming on the job? You're not a guard – you're just one of many playthings my father scooped up from some godforsaken corner of Fleur for my younger brothers to amuse themselves with.'
'Your Highness, I –'
'Enough. You've had your chance, and you blew it.' He turns to leave. Then he glances back and delivers one last blow. 'And what's with your attire? You look like you're going to a damn funeral.'
My hands, clad in their black sleeve cuffs, are somewhere in front of me, and they have nowhere to go.
It's decided, I suppose. I'm not wanted here, and even if Count Rosenberg refused to state it outright, then Prince Eins just came out and said it anyway. What's more, my supposed uselessness just made the situation worse.
Like an unwanted gift from a doting parent, I'm unwanted here, and these boys are looking to get me out the door as fast as possible.
But even though I've lost, I still can't give up. The princes said that we had to win all of them over, and if someone at Weisburg hears that I failed to win over Prince Eins, then that could be excuse enough for the deal to fall through. And ... wait.
'My attire? So I'm being judged by my appearance rather than my competence?'
Prince Eins stops. Then he glares at me. 'If you had any competence to be judged by, then perhaps it would have crossed my mind. Count Rosenberg, if you would?'
Count Rosenberg lays a hand on my shoulder, and despite his utter civility, I realise that he's about to take me off the premises.
But not yet – I push his hand off my shoulder and say, 'Your Royal Highness – wait.'
Prince Eins doesn't turn towards me.
I step forward and say, 'I fail to see how a passed judgment without adequate representation on behalf of the party in question qualifies as a fair chance.'
He turns, danger spilling from his skin. 'You had a chance to represent yourself, and I'm you failed to make a good impression.'
I bow low, my fingertips brushing the floor as I smooth down my skirts. 'I beg your pardon, my lord …' I stand up again with a revolver in each hand, both cylinders spinning. The holsters strapped to my boots are now emptied of their weapons. Eins stiffens, and Count Rosenberg tenses. '… But I did not say that I was not armed.'
Eins' eyes flicker. 'Well. Pardon me, Fraulein.'
Count Rosenberg takes my wrist, and I let him. I've drawn my weapons in the presence of royalty – I have no right to be defensive. 'Tell me, little girl. Are these loaded?'
I glance at him. 'Would you care to find out?'
And after a long pause, the count takes one of the guns out of my hands. He passes it back a moment later.
'So am I magically meant to welcome you with open arms now that you've proved yourself not to be completely incompetent?' Prince Eins asks. 'Because I think not.'
'Your Highness.' Eins narrows his eyes at me as I say, 'When my colleagues and I arrived at Weisburg Palace, your brothers put forward a proposition that we all had to prove our worth within the day or else return to Fleur. I would not expect anyone to take on an employee without evaluating their worth, but if your younger brothers – in all their impetuousness – could give us a chance, I am certain that in your infinite kindness, you could deign to grant me an interview.'
Eins stiffens, and Count Rosenburg disguises a delicate laugh behind one hand.
'For all their stupidity, it is a fair notion,' Eins mutters. 'I will concede that much.'
'And I am sure that His Majesty the King had his reasons for sending me to you, though I apologise for the inconvenience I inadvertently caused. I am sure that he was simply acting in your best interest, but who am I to hazard a guess at His Majesty's intentions?'
With each sentence, Prince Eins' scowl has become more and more pronounced. At this point, his sharp, ridged canines are exposed. 'Are you quite done?'
I holster my revolvers again. 'Yes, thank you.'
He stares at me for a moment. After I fail to please him by disappearing or melting into the carpet, he sighs. He looks to be in need of a smoke, a pill or a glass of something strong – or possibly all three.
'Then let's get it over with.'
Behind him, I see what I originally did not – a table, two chairs, and a side table dotted with tea, coffee, and sweets.
He abruptly takes a seat, and I do as well, nearly hitting my other weapons on the underside of the table.
To go from a brutal interrogation to a tea party feels somewhat jarring. I almost ask if I'm meant to serve him, but then I see Count Rosenberg elegantly shrug off his coat and begin coffee on a nearby silver cart. 'Brauner, Your Highness?' he asks, already brewing bitter, dark coffee. 'And Yulenka? For yourself?'
'I … er …'
'We have tea from Erosz if you wish to try it.'
'… Thank you.'
I keep my arms close to my sides, pinching the edge of the tablecloth. Eins is still staring at me, and I think that I'm going to have to get used to it – if I don't get kicked out first. 'So?' he demands. 'Interview me. Unlike my brothers, I have royal duties to attend to. This is already cutting into the time that I need to spend on a diplomatic report that I will be presenting to the council.'
I flinch and snatch a sheet of paper out of the folder at my side. It's a series of questions that can be completed like a test or conducted as a conversation. The latter might help me make a better case for myself. 'My apologies. It's a question-and-answer –'
'Give it here,' he orders. 'It will be faster.'
I hand it over without a word. Eins glances at it, then he holds out his other hand. Rosenberg pauses to press a pipe case into the prince's open palm before he returns to his work. The prince opens the case, fills the pipe and lights it. Smoke wreathes in the air, and he continues reading. I try not to cough.
Count Rosenberg places our coffees on the table and says to me in a low voice, 'Would you care for refreshments as well?'
'… If the prince is –'
'I don't eat sweets,' Eins says bluntly and turns the page. He takes a drag of his pipe.
My brow creases. 'My, I feel so sorry for you.'
He coughs violently, and smoke whorls through the air. 'Girl, this tobacco likely cost more than your yearly wages. Are you trying to make me waste it?'
'No, sir.'
'Then that aside – I beg your pardon? Why do you feel sorry for me?'
'Because you can't … eat sweets …'
He glares at me in a high temper and says, 'It is not due to inability. It is a preference. They rot the teeth.'
'Yes, yes, Prince,' Rosenberg says, lightly resting a hand on Eins' shoulder. He gives me a wink. 'Don't bite the poor dear's head off.'
I venture a slight nod. I still haven't grasped the power dynamic at play here here. Neither man seems to want me in the palace, but now that they're playing off each other, it almost feels like each of them is using me to annoy the other.
… Charming.
'So,' Eins says. 'In summary, this a generic aptitude test designed mainly for clients like my younger brothers, who are unaware of all the intricacies of personal protection work and are liable to run around without with free abandon and get themselves killed?'
'… In a sense.'
'Then this is hardly relevant to me. I'm not new to this.'
I remove more sheets from my folder and pass them over. 'Then perhaps you would care for more information about the Chatons and the company's history –'
He takes the pages and begins to read. I watch him, but I am promptly caught off guard by Count Rosenberg, who places a plate of sugary treats beside my tea.
I stare at the plate. 'What? But these are …'
Rosenberg gives me a smile. 'Pechoski?'
I nod and pick one up. They're sweets from my home country. I haven't had them in years. I pick one up, take a bite and glow a little at the sugary taste. Then I freeze as Eins sets the papers down and opens his mouth to speak – only for him to stop short when he sees that I have a mouthful of sugary roll.
'… Mm.' I remove the roll, chew my mouthful, swallow, take the napkin Count Rosenberg places in my hand the moment I reach for one and clear my throat.
'You're not helping your case.'
'Pardon me.'
Eins looks unimpressed, but he merely spreads the papers over the table. 'All right.' My heart skips a beat, and he says, 'Passable. Your credentials are passable, your company's range of clientele is passable, and your company was recommended to us by one of our family's former bodyguards, so you have some credibility. I'm inclined to look at this arrangement in a more tolerant light.'
'Thank you –'
'I'm not done.' He taps one page with his pipe, scattering ash over the paper. 'Pray tell … What is the term "partisan" referring to in this context?'
I try to think of the best way to phrase it, because I have a feeling that he may not like the answer. '… It is the practice of substitute-doubles taking the place of their charges at certain events. In this case, it refers to a principle's bodyguard having the ability to act as a double if necessary.'
Eins pauses. He looks at me, then down at the paper, then up at me again. 'A double.'
'Yes.'
'But you're a woman.'
I adjust my dress with one hand. 'I am aware.'
Eins scoffs – a low, bitter laugh. 'I can understand pulling a little trick like that for Leonhard or Licht. Given their age and physicality, it would be as simple as performing sleight of hand. But for Bruno or Kai? Let alone myself?'
'It is not that difficult to –'
'You're dreaming,' Eins says bluntly. 'You couldn't pass yourself off as me to save your life. The only similarities we share are our height and hair colour. You have the face of a girl, but you have the silhouette of an adult woman.' He narrows his eyes. 'You're also too top-heavy to pass yourself off as a man. What were you thinking?'
I crumple my serviette in my lap and say nothing.
Count Rosenberg glances at me, which makes me wish to cross my arms over my chest, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he says, 'Prince, plausibility aside … there could be something to this. A double could be useful to us, no?'
Eins stops. After a long silence, he says, 'Perhaps.' He sits back in his chair and taps his pipe against an ashtray. 'Well, I see no reason to either send you back or let you stay. Perhaps having a guard who could accompany us on some occasions might be beneficial, although you would be of more use as a double – impossible as that would be. So I suppose you'll have to take up residence here until we can work out what to do with you..'
I bow my head. 'Thank you for your consideration, my lord. I will do my best to live up to your expectations.'
Eins gets up with a clatter. 'Don't try. Just do your job. Are we done here?'
I set my teacup down and stand up as well. 'Yes.'
'Good. Ernst, get me those reports in the next half-hour,' the prince says and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.
'Would you like me to show you to your room?' Count Rosenberg asks.
'… Thank you.'
I follow him down the cream-and-gold halls, taking the key that he presses into my hand. He gives me a smile. 'Welcome to Schwarz, my dear.'
'Thank you.'
It tastes terrible, beneath the remaining traces of sugar – to thank someone for not throwing you off the premises.
'If you would –'
'I must freshen up, I'm afraid. Perhaps later.'
His eyes narrow. 'I –'
'I must freshen up,' I repeat, and he finally steps back enough to let me close the door.
I slide down the door with a sigh. I hate to fall back on it, but telling a man that you need to freshen up in a specific tone of voice is the only thing you can do to be rid of them.
I look up at my pile of luggage trunks.
Go fall in the orchestra pit and kill yourself.
Get your ass out of the military.
You're not good enough. If you were good enough, I wouldn't have had to look for love in someone else!
You stupid little bi –
I lower my head to my crossed arms.
… I'm just never good enough, am I?
I sigh. I passed. I was passable. I persuaded the prince to let me stay. My fingers curl around my sleeve cuff. But it wasn't enough. I could have been better.
You're dreaming. You're too top-heavy. Don't try. Just do your job.
I'm never enough.
Are we done here?
It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Am I done?
No. No, I am not done, and this prince doesn't know what I can do yet.
I get up and lock the door. Then I rip off my dress and weapons and drop everything in a glittering black pile on the floor. Then I set to work.
I open the clasps of my trunks and flip the lids up. The contents of my luggage would be a tailor or makeup artist's dream. I pull out the smallest corset I have, put it on and aggressively yank the stays until my so-called 'top-heavy' figure completely disappears. Then I spread out tray after tray of paints, powders and brushes until the top of the dressing table is covered. I open my reference folder and flip through the pages until I find a photograph of Prince Eins. Then I reach for a roll of adhesive tape. The smooth curves of my face vanish, making my jaw sharp and angular. Then I paint over my features and redraw them completely, contouring sharp cheekbones and deep valleys. I also add definition on my neck and collarbone. I pencil in my eyes with kohl and blacken my eyebrows, then draw on fine lines and add creases with tape. Then I take out a black wig, pin it, cut it, style it, trim it, and a moment later, I'm staring back at the prince's reflection in the mirror.
But I'm not done yet – I open another trunk and remove the outfit that each of the Chatons were sent ahead of time for tailoring purposes. It's the kingdom of Glanzreich's military uniform, black, red, white and gold. I step into a pair of black slacks and do up the shirt buttons, my fingers working the opposite way. Then I strap on a holster and I pull on the jacket. The cuffs sit heavy on my wrists as I fasten the buttons, the collar pressing against my neck with the fastening of the last one. Finally, I step into a tall pair of boots, don an overcoat and lash a scarf around my neck.
And standing before me in the mirror is a twenty-something, tall, dark and brooding prince. I walk, sit and stand until I have his gait down to a fault, then I twist my vocal cords into their lowest octave and whisper rapid-fire Gherman, mimicking the prince's cadence and intonation, until I, for all intents and purposes, have become Prince Eins.
Perfect.
And to seal the deal, I place a trace of tobacco on my tongue – in place of a signature cologne – and slip on a pair of white gloves.
After peeking outside to ensure that I won't immediately run into Count Rosenberg, I stalk out of the room, my coat billowing behind me. The nearby maids and footmen drop into sweeping bows and curtseys, and the rush from realising that I might pull this off feels like downing a bottle of vodka in one gulp.
I slip through the halls and track down Prince Eins, then the moment he starts moving, I carefully back away and get ahead of him, striding down the halls.
And like magic, Count Rosenberg appears. As we near each other, he looks up from a clipboard and notices me. He gives me a sly grin. 'Ah, Eins.'
Wait … Eins?
But I don't have time to wonder why he called the prince by his given name. I take a deep breath, drawing on all the annoyance and frustration I've felt since setting foot on the palace grounds, as well as on the prince's atrocious demeanour, and say in a rumbling snarl, 'What?'
Rosenberg sighs and flicks me on the shoulder as he passes. 'Nothing, but my word – you only spoke to the young lady for 15 minutes, and you're in a revolting humour. We're never going to be able to marry you off at this rate.'
'Tch.' I don't look at him. I use my supposed indifference to hastily conceal my differing eye colour. Then I say, 'Ernst?'
'Yes, what – '
I lunge, locking my elbow around his neck in a chokehold and digging my heels into the carpet. His elbow rams into my ribs, and he lashes out with one foot, but I step over it and force Rosenberg into a headlock right as Prince Eins himself comes around the corner.
He stops. Rosenberg stops. He grits his teeth. 'You little minx.'
I tighten my hold, and he chokes. 'Pardon. My elbow slipped.'
'What the hell is going on?' Eins says wearily.
'Pardon, Prince. I had a question.'
'A question?'
I stare him down, ignoring Rosenberg's attempts to extricate himself. 'Is this good enough for you?'
Eins blinks. He looks at Rosenberg, then back at me. He raises his eyebrows.
Then he laughs. A coughing sound that reveals the edges of his teeth. 'I suppose that qualifies as "good", you devilish girl.' He studies me – every inch, every line, every button on my coat. 'More than good. If you'd kindly release the count, however. He's about to asphyxiate.'
I swiftly do so and brush Rosenberg's jacket off. 'My apologies, my lord.'
Rosenberg steps away from me and gives me a chillingly violent glare. I flinch. Then he crosses his arms, waiting for Eins to speak.
Eins considers me for a moment. '… You do realise what you've done?'
'Yes.'
'You just impersonated a member of royalty and accosted a member of the nobility, all to simply prove a point.'
I lower my gaze. 'Yes.'
Eins grasps my jaw and wrenches my head up to his. After a moment, he says, 'You just successfully deceived my closest friend.' He holds my gaze, trying to make me grasp the enormity of what he's saying. 'You successfully tricked and accosted my former bodyguard.'
My heart stops beating. 'What?'
A long silence.
Count Rosenberg gives Eins a filthy look. 'I was under the impression that we would not be informing the girl of either of those things.'
'And I was under the impression that we were being sent an ornamental doll to put on the mantlepiece, but first impressions can be superseded by second impressions.' Eins places a hand on his hip, staring at me with an intensity that burns my eyes. '… And I'm mildly impressed.'
I bow, feeling as though a curtsey would be out of place in this attire, but I'm still confused. 'Thank you, Your Highness.'
Rosenberg raises an eyebrow and scoffs. 'Girl, I'll just point something out. It nigh takes a feat of national service to get a compliment out of this stingy bastard, so enjoy the high it while it lasts.'
'Ern,' Eins snaps.
'It's the truth …'
Eins weighs me up. After a great length, he says, 'Fine. You have proved yourself competent, at great risk.' He gives Rosenberg a wicked smile. 'And for better or worse, you've also proved yourself quite dangerous. So I'll have you and Count Rosenberg working together.'
Rosenberg and I look at each other, startled, and a devilish grin spreads across his face. 'Well, this should be fun, my dear. Better to be so talented as to be untrustworthy rather than so trustworthy as to be useless, I suppose?'
'I am not your "dear".'
'Touche.'
My brow creases, deepening the lines drawn and pencilled on my face. 'Prince, I was already going to ask for Count Rosenberg's assistance in familiarising myself with the palace and such, regardless of this stipulation. So what did you mean when you said –'
Eins cracks his neck, tangling one gloved hand in his hair as he gives Rosenberg a knowing smirk. 'I was speaking literally.'
I turn to the count, and I suddenly realise what the hard lines beneath his coat were when I was strangling him.
'Ernst is my former bodyguard, and last time I checked, former doesn't mean retired.'
My eyes widen.
'Well, this looks like it's shaping up to be one long playdate, my girl,' Ernst says. He gives me a devilish grin, and I suddenly regret putting him in a stranglehold with every fibre of my being.
'I am not a material object in your possession, my lord,' I reply under my breath.
Eins clicks his fingers. 'Enough, children.'
Ernst and I shut up, and Eins clears his throat. 'Ernst, you'll be showing Yulenka how we do things around here. Keep an eye on her.'
I stiffen. Ernst smirks.
'And Yulenka …' Eins pauses. 'Welcome to Schwarz. Don't make me regret this.'
And he walks off, leaving me to dance with the devil.
'Shall we get started, my dear?'
I cut him a look. 'Yulenka. Call me that.'
'Call me that please, my lord,' he says in a low tone.
'Please and thank you, my lord.'
We're a trigger's breadth from having it out right here in the hallway, and even Eins turns back briefly to see the cause of our bickering. 'Just don't set the palace on fire, you two.'
'May I set him on fire?'
'I wouldn't recommend it, Baba Yaga,' Eins says. 'He's too lean to taste good.'
I stare at Ernst and slowly lick my lips. He flinches. 'I don't know,' I say. 'Perhaps. But apparently, the pretty white-haired ones have an exquisite flavour.'
Ernst stiffens. 'You witch,' he breathes in amused fury.
'More preferable than an endearment beginning with a possessive pronoun. I'll take it.'
More preferable indeed … Just don't burn the palace down, Baba Yaga.
Chapter 9: Interview with a Tutor
Chapter Text
~ Verene ~
Verene Püssler. Of Gherman blood, her talents lie in administrative affairs and coordination, yet her strength lies in her stunning good looks –
Someone make it stop, please? Who writes this stuff?!
That aside … Hm. Yeah, I don't sound that great on paper.
But that's all right – because if I'm not what someone is looking for, then they can move on to the next girl. Because believe me, there are plenty of other girls to choose from and I've got stuff to do.
Speaking of stuff to do, I've got a lot of stuff to get done here.
I stay well back from the fray of girls and princes, and I look for an exit route. I pull out my trusty clipboard and purse my lips.
While the rest of the girls are going to be having fun chasing princes and swinging from the chandeliers, I'm the only one without a royal charge. That doesn't mean that I'm about to get a vacation out of this, however.
I need to get our luggage allocated to our rooms, I need to get our identity papers to the palace officials, I need to find my way around and I need to pray to high heaven that each girl will be able to convince their stubborn prince or princess to take them on as their guards.
I plaster a smile on my face and turn around. That's not too much to ask, is it?
Solana and Prince Leonhard fly over the balcony rail with a shriek and a crash. Chiara sprints after Prince Bruno. Elle and Prince Licht are already heading upstairs to do who-knows-what. Kai and Daphne seem to have gotten their glove buttons entangled. Yulenka nearly hits the palace's high steward in the face when he inadvertently approaches her from her blind spot. And Rin looks as though she would commit seppuku to escape this mess if it wouldn't leave stains on the priceless staircase marble.
I exhale through my teeth. I don't think hopping up on the nearest side table and bellowing at anyone is going to help matters, so I keep my feet on the floor and flip through the pages on my clipboard.
The first thing I need to do is get our luggage allocated to our rooms, so that means I need to grab hold of the palace high steward … once he's shuttled Yulenka and Rin off to their respective destinations. Come to think of it, would it be better to approach some of the maids directly for help? Or should I talk to the guards who let us in at the gate and screened our luggage?
I sigh and scrape my pencil over my clipboard, but then I notice Heine Wittgenstein dashing off in the opposite direction. It looks as though he's making a quick getaway before this hallway scenario goes to all hell …
'Ooh.'
I watch him intently over the edge of my clipboard.
… And you can waylay any of the staff if you require further assistance.
Ah, the irony.
I laugh and chase after him, ignoring Prince Leonhard and Solana pinging around the hallways below like a couple of ricocheting bullets.
The tutor heads around the corner, and I run to catch up with him. He takes a silver key from beneath his shirt, unlocks one of the doors in the hallway and disappears inside, letting the door swing shut behind him.
But I jam my foot in the door. I squeeze inside, smooth back my hair and say, 'Sorry for barging in, but –'
He whirls around, and a stack of books falls out of his arms with a crash. 'Ah. Hello.' He pushes his glasses up and frowns. 'Can I help you?'
I step forward, saying, 'Yes – agh!' but I fall facedown into a sea of books.
More books hit the ground with a clatter. 'Are you quite all right?'
I raise my head and glare at the book I tripped over. Then I glare at the one that I hit my head on. 'If I were going to have my pretty face messed up, then I'd rather it be by Dostoevsky than Flaubert. But I could have worse problems.'
The tutor gets on one knee and holds out a hand. He grimaces. 'My apologies. I'm afraid I never learned the art of keeping a clean room. Are you quite all right?'
I sit up and give him a grin. 'All good. Love what you've done with the place, by the way. Very art nouveau. And how's your day going?'
He stares at me in bewilderment. 'Er… Well enough, but would you care to tell me why you're in my room, bleeding on my copy of Les Miserables?'
I glance down and quickly wipe away the offending fluid. 'Eh? Whoops. What a miserable turn of events.' I drop the act and get up, holding out a hand. 'I'm here to waylay one staff of the staff, pretty please. Would you be a gent and help me out?'
He blinks. Then his expression clears. 'Ah, I see. Did you require further assistance?'
'Not quite.' I glance out the window, then lean against it. I grin. 'But I'm the one who's in charge of organising everyone else's schedules, and you seem like the sort who would be fairly well-versed in the palace's day-to-day affairs. I thought I'd ask for tips. Locating luggage, assigning rooms, acquiring keys, familiarising oneself with a passel of assorted princes …'
I sit on the windowsill and cup my face in my hands. 'Help me out, and I'll help you out – by helping you get this magpie's nest of a room under control. How does that sound?'
He arches one eyebrow. 'An art noveau magpie's nest?'
'I'm wading ankle-deep in books here. Read the room. Literally.'
He looks around. A globe topples over, setting off a domino reaction that upends the entire room and leaves us coughing and waving away dust.
'And how about we make it a regular thing?' I seal the deal with a grin and an improved offer. 'You and I will work together to coordinate the princes and their guards for the month, and I'll work as your assistant and keep this room so spotless that you won't be able to believe it's yours.'
Heine pauses and tips his head to one side. 'Well …'
Then, we hear a crash outside in the hallway. Heine winces. It sounds as though an express train is barreling down the hall.
'… Well, you can keep up with my sprint! Not bad, commoner!'
'Do you have an inferiority complex?!'
'What the hell is that supposed to …'
Solana and Leonhard's voices fade and their footsteps echo, heading upstairs.
Heine sighs. 'I will take you up on your offer. Even if I were able to keep my room clean on my own, I have the feeling that this month is not going to afford me any time to do so whatsoever.'
'True.'
'And two minds are better than one. I will help you coordinate the princes' and the girls' affairs, and in exchange, you will …'
'Make this room sparkle.'
'You have a deal.'
'Splendid.'
I shake his hand. It feels absurd, I note with amusement, as though I'm shaking hands with a tiny porcelain doll.
Heine sits back down at his desk. He looks a little disoriented. But after shaking his head and blinking, he seems to regain his composure. 'To answer your questions … After your luggage has been screened by the Royal Guard, it will be delivered to your rooms by the palace footmen. Each of your rooms is situated in close proximity to your respective prince's chambers.'
'Very considerate,' I say, and begin slotting books onto the shelves while teetering on a chair.
'Quite. Also … You showed your identity papers and acquired weapons-bearing permits when you arrived, yes?'
'That's right.' I jump off the chair and zip around the room, expertly catching clothes that I kick up and off the floor with my foot and skidding through snow-drifts of papers.
'Your identity papers will all be returned to you once the palace administrators have finished verifying them. Also, your weapons permits will probably be updated with individual records of what weapons you brought with you.'
I glance over. 'Let me guess, you must be wondering what unsavoury instruments I've got on my person right now.'
He shrugs. 'Not particularly. Though I am wondering how you didn't lose or break any of them when you went flying headlong into my book collection.'
I wince. Partly from embarrassment and partly because I think my ribs are beginning to bruise from landing on said weapons. 'Pardon me.'
'It's no trouble.' He stops writing for a moment and turns around. 'You mentioned familiarising yourself with the princes?'
'Oh. I was just speaking generally.' I skid through snowdrifts of papers, gathering up manuscripts and messy first drafts in my arms. 'But it did occur to me that you of all people would know them well. Is there anything you think that we should know?'
His face remains expressionless. 'Nothing of particular consequence. I assume that you were given materials on the princes prior to coming here?'
'Yeah, we were. An assortment of materials as well as documents from the palace.' I turn around and smirk. 'But you should have seen Solana when she heard we got the job – she went ballistic.'
'Solana … Your dauntless and somewhat opinionated leader?'
'That's the one. She was actually excited, as out of character as that is for her.' I chuckle, straightening the books on the shelves with a ruler. 'She got so carried away that she sat us all down to learn Gherman and wouldn't let us off the hook until we were near fluent.'
He gives me a curious look, and I go on to explain further. 'She's … got this thing about Glanzreich. She gets so … into things, but she seems to be pretty obsessed this time.'
My fingers drift to a halt. Solana, sprinting in the door of our townhouse and gasping something about how royalty shouldn't be allowed to wander around in public. Solana, shaking Elle by the shoulders and yelling, Glanzreich! Glanzreich, Elle! Solana, ravaging our personal library and the Fonseine state library for every book, article and photograph related to Glanzreich.
Solana, reading the letter we received from His Majesty Viktor von Glanzreich over and over and over, whispering the words in her sleep as I watched from the doorway until she finally fell silent.
Solana.
You insufferable, selfish, beautiful thing.
'Are you from Glanzreich as well, Miss Verene?' Heine asks, standing beside me.
My head jerks up, and I stumble back. 'Where'd you come from?' Heine merely arches an eyebrow and takes a few books off the shelf. 'And no, I'm not. Daphne is from these parts, but I'm from Ghermany. Shared language, however.'
I step back from the bookshelves, hoisting a white box printed with delicate floral patterns from the floor. 'By the way, where do you want this –'
But before I can finish the question, Chiara bursts into the room like her hair's on fire.
Heine jumps like a startled cat. 'What on earth is going on – '
Chiara dives into a bow, yelling, 'Please make me your apprentice!'
Heine drops his book, and I grab the nearest cushion so that I can stifle my laughter. Good grief …
Knowing Chiara and all her emotional baggage, this isn't going to resolve itself quickly – so I get back to work. The distraught little poodle hasn't even noticed that I'm in the room.
Chiara drops to her knees, begging Heine for something at the top of her lungs. I neatly step over her and get out of the way. The only words I can catch are 'Prince Bruno,' and I sigh. Man problems already? I thought we were a bit better than that.
Heine hauls Chiara to her feet and tries to calm her down by offering his help. Unless I'm mistaken, she's begging him for help with winning over her prince. And apparently, that has something to do with an apprenticeship?
I try to keep cleaning up, but things are getting crazier over there, as though it's the world's worst job interview. And somehow, despite her bad luck, Chiara is getting all the answers right, and the exchange ends with her bursting into tears, jumping three feet in the air, and nearly shaking Heine's hand right off his arm before sprinting out of the room, yelling, 'I did it!'
The door slams shut. I raise my eyebrows. Heine sits back down in his seat in a daze.
'Where were we?'
'Ah. Yes. Where do you want this box? Or should I tip it out and put the contents away?'
'Wait, what?' Heine looks over as I crack open the lid. He jumps a foot in the air and slaps the lid back on.
'… I'm guessing that was a no.'
'Yes.'
'Wait, was that a yes?' I prise the lid up again, but Heine slaps it back on again.
'Those are merely personal effects. Put the the box wherever you wish.'
I shrug. 'All right. Like what, though?' Then I realise. 'Oh. Oh. Okay. Gotcha.'
Heine gives me an unimpressed look. 'They are not lewd books – if that is what you were imagining.'
'Oh. They're not?'
'No.'
'What about strange devices for making yourself taller, then?'
'No.'
'A gun?'
'No.'
'Chocolate?'
'No.'
'Incriminating photographs?'
'Look,' Heine says. 'You may set the box on the floor and tap-dance on it for all I care. Just don't open it.'
'Really?'
'No.'
'Thought so. And ta-da, by the way. Have a look.'
Heine turns around and nearly falls off his chair in surprise. 'My word. You can see the floor again!'
That's the least of the matter – the room is sparkling, gleaming, neatly ordered, alphabetised, and yes, you can see the floor.
'You have my utmost thanks,' Heine says, absently gathering a pile of papers from his desk as he surveys my handiwork. 'I am afraid I must go, however, as I have to find Prince Leonhard for his lessons –'
'Can I come with you?'
'Pardon?'
I wink. 'It will save you having to serve as an information desk for all of us girls if I simply shadow you for a bit and learn the palace layout that way, no?'
He blinks. 'Well. Aren't you organised? And if you wish, then yes, feel free – but you'll have to keep up.'
I shrug and follow him out of the room and up two flights of stairs to the palace's fourth storey with my trusty clipboard under one arm. Keep up? How hard can that be?
We step onto the landing – only for Heine to yank me back as Chiara and Bruno dance the waltz down the hall at a lightning-fast pace. 'Now, apprentice, to the library!'
'Yes, sir!' Chiara waves a piece of paper with the prince's signature on it at us before yelping as the two of them disappear around the corner.
I wince and give her two thumbs up. Not that she can see it, however. I glance at Heine. 'Is Prince Bruno always like that?'
'On the contrary, I think this is one of his good days.'
'So I don't have to worry about the two of them making out in a broom closet while she's on the clock?'
'We don't even have broom closets on this floor.' Heine blinks. Then his face turns a ghastly shade of white. 'Oh, dear heavens. Please don't tell me I'm going to have to keep an eye on them on top of everything else I have to deal with.'
'… Not all of them.'
Heine sighs. 'Very well. Besides, Prince Bruno would only be interested in making out the meaning of a difficult passage in a sociology textbook …'
I chase him down the hall, trying not to smirk. 'Wait, do you actually have a sense of humour?'
'Why is that so –'
A shriek and a flurry of yelling ensues up ahead. Heine doesn't even bat an eye. 'The royal family's personal rooms are on the fourth floor. Your own rooms are situated near each of your charges' bedrooms. '
'That must have been a headache for your interior designer.'
'Somewhat. Also, in terms of general layout … the main entrances and exits, the audience chamber and the grand ballroom are on the first floor. Assorted rooms and personal rooms of staff are on the second floor. Sitting rooms, banquet halls and the like are on the third floor. The royal family's personal living quarters are on the fourth floor. The national library is located in a wing off the palace, and the palace gardens are outside, with the palace grounds continuing beyond that.'
I nod, slowly at first, then faster as I process all the information. I catch a glimpse of Bruno and Licht through an open door as we walk past. They're having it out like two hissing and snarling alley cats, with Chiara hiding behind Bruno and Elle blowing a lock of hair out of her eyes with an unimpressed look on her face. Heine doesn't even stop to take in the scene.
'And I imagine that you would would like to acquire your room keys, so I would talk to …' Heine trails off. 'Ah. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Herr Frein?'
HIs Majesty's high steward walks up to us and nods. 'Did you acquire assistance?'
Heine briefly introduces us. 'Herr Frein is His Majesty's personal assistant, and he's in charge of Weisburg palace in the king's absence. So if any of you need assistance, then he is better suited to help you than I am in the long run. But many of the royal servants in Glanzreich are also nobles, so remember to watch your tongue.'
I give Heine a confused look. 'Are you saying you're not a noble – oh, Herr Frein. Hello. I'm Verene Pussler, the administrative assistant for the Chatons de Fleur. I was told you were the person I was should talk to?'
His expression clears. 'Indeed. Let me guess – you were wanting to know about room keys and luggage and all the rest of it.'
'Yes, that about sums it up.'
He takes a set of keys from his pocket, sorts through them and then hands the entire set over. 'These are all your room keys, save but for Rinako Kimura's. She is entertaining Princess Adele in her room. The door handles and keys have corresponding numbers. Do you wish to assign the keys to their owners yourself?'
'Sure. I'll be checking in with all the girls shortly anyway.' I take the keys and narrow my eyes. 'And what about master keys?'
Jakob nods. 'I have one, but the others are locked in the palace vault, which only His Majesty has access to. The palace guards also have keys for non-personal areas, like common rooms and the palace archives so that they can conduct their patrols.'
'I see. And our luggage?'
'Already placed in your rooms, which were locked up again afterwards.'
I stare at him. 'My my. Don't you work fast? Well, thank you for all of that –'
'Certainly. And I imagine we'll be seeing a lot of each other.'
I raise my eyebrows.
'Scheduling.'
And we both mask a grimace – because scheduling a household full of royals looks something like this: state visits, arranged marriage meetings, portraiture sessions, music classes, fencing lessons, military academy, tutoring, state dinners, events, audiences, speaking engagements, paperwork, high teas, social functions, society balls, dance lessons, guard rotations, diplomatic visits, work experience, and press releases, with at least a dozen wardrobe changes a day.
I plaster a grin on my face and say, 'I'll look forward to working with you.'
'Likewise.' He passes us, saying, 'Don't pull a muscle there.'
My grin disappears. 'Likewise.'
He chuckles and disappears like a wraith in the mist.
'If you're quite done panicking at all that lies before you, shall we get going?' Heine asks.
'Yes – wait up!'
I sprint down the hall and pant for breath while Heine knocks on one of the doors. 'Prince Leonhard?'
The door finally opens a crack. '… Is that girl with you?'
'Which one?'
The door slams open, and Prince Leonhard says in an absolute fit of rage, 'That atrocious, bossy, intolerable one!'
'Ah, you mean Solana,' I say cheerfully. 'No, I don't think she'd be in any hurry to come back.'
Leonhard crosses his arms in a huff. 'Right. She already got my signature, so what more would she want?'
'All the time back that she wasted trying to get your signature?' Heine says under his breath.
I stare at him, and Leonhard nearly slams the door shut. He would have succeeded if Heine hadn't promptly jammed his foot in it.
'Now, now, Prince.'
After a dangerous silence, Leonhard opens the door just a crack, ready to bolt at any moment. '… Fine. What is it?'
'About your pop quiz –'
With a crack and a blast, the prince is streaking down the hall and down a staircase.
'Prince!'
'Why do I get myself into these situations – professor!' I shriek as Heine bypasses the stairs altogether and jumps over the balustrade.
I sprint after him and fly down the steps. 'What is wrong with you people?!'
I reach the ground floor and follow the trail of destruction through the palace's foyer, only to see Prince Leonhard leap out a window, followed immediately Heine diving after him.
'You've got to be kidding me!'
I take the conventional route and dash out the door into the palace grounds. I blink as my eyes adjust to the sunshine, and then I notice Prince Kai and Daphne standing nearby. The two of them are staring at the the runaway prince and the tutor, who are nothing more than a blur of red, blue, and gold at this point.
'Your Highness, get back here at once! I didn't even give you that pop quiz, so – '
'No way!'
'Get over it already!'
I roll my eyes and wave at Daphne until I finally catch her attention. I wind up and throw her the key for her room. She catches it deftly and examines it before giving me a nod. Kai lowers his head to hers, asking a question, and she whispers something back.
Looking at them standing side by side, I would literally buy it hook, line and sinker if someone told me that Daphne was Prince Kai's long-lost sister.
Then a shriek echoes through the courtyard, and we all turn to see Heine hauling Leonhard along the path by his jacket collar. I raise an eyebrow. Something tells me that the little tutor is going beyond royal protocol, but I'd probably be shaking Prince Leonhard by the collar a hundred times a day if it were my job to look after him.
I look around and notice another prince and 'princess' in the area – Prince Licht and Elle up on one of the palace balconies. I take another key and wave until the silver glitter catches her eye. She squints, then she recognises me and grins. She leans forward – way, way, way too far forward – and yells, 'Hey, Verene!'
At that very moment, Heine stops in the doorway to the palace side entrance and looks up, distracted by Elle's voice. He blanches and claps his free hand over his eyes.
I flinch. 'Elle! Yourdress!'
'Eh?' She looks down and sighs.. 'Whoops. Well, you weren't really my target audience, you know?'
Licht smirks. 'And I am?'
'Maybe?' She turns to him with a teasing smile. 'How did I do?'
'Cupid's arrow hit a bullseye, sweetheart.'
'Of course. I never miss my mark, you know.'
I try not to gag, and I hold up the key. She nods and motions for Prince Licht to step back. I wind up – four stories is going to be pushing it – but I throw, and Elle snatches the key out of the air. 'Room key?' she asks.
'Yes!'
Licht leans on the balcony rail, giving Elle an amused look. 'And if you'd dropped it?'
She shrugs. 'Then I'd just have to spend the night with you!'
'Ugh,' I say. 'Get a room! I mean, get separate rooms! And get a grip!'
'I'll try!' Elle says.
'I won't!' Licht adds with a grin.
I give up and head back inside to join Heine and Prince Leonhard. I follow the two of them back up the stairs at a distance, having no inclination to get involved in whatever it is they're arguing about. But they stop dead in their tracks, and I nearly bump into them.
I look up to see Rin and Adele in the corridor. Rin gives me a subtle 'thumbs up', so I can safely assume that she must have gotten the princess onboard the 'let's not kick them out of the palace' bandwagon.'
Then I realise that Leonhard and Heine are still arguing, and it quickly climaxes with Heine shoving Prince Leonhard in Rinako's direction.
I raise my eyebrows.
Heine raises his back at me. 'Sometimes he just needs a little encouragement.'
'You call that encouragement?'
Then I hear Leonhard blurt out a greeting to Rin in Japanese.
Rin looks like she just got hit by a carriage, and a moment later, Leonhard spins around, yelling at Heine in exasperation.
Rin pulls herself together and get's Leonhard's attention, getting the conversation back on the rails.
'His Highness is multilingual?' I whisper to Heine.
'He's getting there. The king is highly proficient in foreign languages, and Leonhard has the natural aptitude to follow in his father's footsteps.'
I glance between the tutor and the prince. '… Is it just me, or do you have a soft spot for this prince?'
'Why do you say that?'
'Everything you've done so far since I've joined you has been all about him. Being there for him, encouraging him …'
Heine dismisses my question with a quick gesture. 'He's just incredibly high maintenance. As you can see.'
'I won't argue with that.'
'But …' Heine hesitates. 'You are right in one sense. I have a place in my heart for each of the princes. And it's my job to bring out the best in them by doing whatever I can when I'm at their sides.'
'… You're really not a normal person. Are you?'
He looks up. Our eyes meet for a one heartbeat too long. Then he's promptly hauled back into Rin and Leonhard's conversation to help sort out some linguistic difficulties.
'Verene. Verene!'
I turn around to see Solana walking up, beckoning impatiently. I roll my eyes. Nothing can ever wait with you. There's always a fire somewhere.
'Still alive?' I ask
'Keep it down,' she says, casting a warning glance at Prince Leonhard. He hasn't seen her yet, and I get the impression that she'd like to keep it that way.
'Yeah, yeah.'
'Rooms?'
I toss her the room designation sheet. 'Here.'
'Luggage?'
'Done.'
'Keys?'
'Nearly. Just got to find Chiara and Prince Charming down in the book stacks.'
'Anything else?'
I lower my voice. 'I got in with the tutor and His Majesty's high steward.'
'And everything you learn will come back to me?'
'Of course.'
'Good.'
I tip her chin up, giving her a warning glance. 'Don't expect too much.'
She stiffens, but she says nothing.
'Whatever we learn behind these walls stays here,' I say. 'No personal gain, no selling to third parties. No using it to further your own interests.'
'I know that.'
'I know you do. And I know it doesn't matter what you say to me – it still doesn't mean you won't take advantage of being here.' I search her eyes. 'You really think that this is it?'
'I know that this is it.'
'You thought it was Madri once. You thought it was Beyer. You thought it was the Laguna Empire.'
'Laguna was never an option.'
'You bought passage there once –'
'Verene.' She lowers my hand from her face. 'He's here. In Glanzreich. I know it this time.'
I chew my lip, staring at her. 'Okay. Okay. I believe you. But … just remember why we're here. Or something else – someone else – will have to remind you.'
She presses a hand to her bodice, her fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. 'No one has to remind me of anything. Or do I need to remind you that I'm your Capitan?'
'No. You don't.'
'Hey! Glasses!'
I turn around, and Solana pulls a face. Rin and Adele have disappeared into Rin's room, and it seems as though whatever happened during Solana's interview, it must have sent her straight to the top of Prince Leonhard's personal hit list.
'Classifying and naming someone according to a physical or superficial attribute is quite unflattering to both the party concerned and yourself, Prince,' Solana says. 'Perhaps you would care to rephrase your colloquial manner of – '
'Enough! I forbid you to speak to me in words of more than three syllables from now on!'
'That would be incredibly problematic.'
'I swear –'
Heine sighs, 'And right when Rinako was kind enough to distract you from your woes regarding your new guard, Prince. Perhaps take a deep breath and count to three?'
Leonhard whirls around. 'Three?! Are you bringing that up again, you sadist?!'
'Come now,' Heine says firmly. 'Enough of that. Sulking hardly befits a prince.'
'But …' Leonhard hesitates. 'Ugh. Fine.'
'That's better. Besides, I thought you two were to be playmates. It would benefit you both to try and get along.'
Leonhard and Solana both turn scarlet. 'Playmates?! What is this, kindergarten?!'
'With the way you're both acting, yes,' I say under my breath.
Heine taps his teacher's pointer against his leg. 'I thought that you two were to spend time together as companions? And given that Leonhard has virtually nothing but athletics in his head –'
'Hey!'
' – virtually – I imagined that you two would likely be spending time together in recreational pursuits … riding, hunting, and so on. Thus "playmates".'
'Ah? Oh. Well, that's completely different,' Leonhard says.
'How?' Solana says indignantly, 'In whether we wear smocks or not when we do it?'
'Come now, sulking does not befit young ladies either. Come to think of it …' Heine tilts his head and stares at Solana. 'I imagine you would be a fairly experienced markswoman. And Prince Leonhard is reportedly an excellent marksman himself, so –'
Instantly, sparks are zapping between the two. 'Hmph! Everyone knows that girls can't shoot!'
'I'm being paid to shoot people that are trying to kidnap you, Your Royal Highness. Get with the program.'
'Shoot them with what? pocket pistol?'
'You should see what Verene can do with a pocket pistol, then maybe that would bring you to your senses!'
'Oh? Then let's see what you can do with a sword or a soccer ball!'
'If you are expecting me to embroider either of them, then you are going to be sorely disappointed –'
Solana and Leonhard sprint down the hall and dive down the stairs, exchanging colourful insults all the way.
Heine touches his fingertips together. 'Excellent. Quality time spent participating in an activity of shared interest, not to mention that it will familiarise your friend with the palace grounds and get them out of here for several hours before dinner.' He exhales, and I follow him once again. '"Leonhard's midmorning crisis" has been dealt with, so now it's time to "grade pop quizzes" and –'
'So this is literally all in a day's work for you?'
'Yes? Though I usually don't have to deal with so many young women over the course of the day.' Heine's brow creases. 'Not that there seems to be an apparent difference between the genders in this case'
'By contrast, women usually spend more time crying over trivial things, fussing with their hair, obsessing over getting perfect test scores, playing with small cute animals, or rounding up friends for quality conversation over a drink.'
Heine's face takes on the strangest expression, and I can't for the life of me imagine why. 'Well. Thank you for your insight,' he finally says. His expression changes abruptly. 'By the way, there's someone else you may want to talk to while you're here.'
'Eh?'
I turn around, and my eyes widen. 'Is that…?'
'Maria von Glanzreich, the former crown princess and reigning queen mother? Yes,' Heine says as she approaches. 'A bow would be appropriate.'
I hurriedly curtsey right down to the floor. 'Your Majesty.'
Her face brightens, and she says, 'Ah, you're one of the prince's guests, aren't you?'
Heine lowers his voice and says, 'Alongside His Majesty's high steward, the queen mother also has a significant role in the palace's affairs. You may have to work with her as well.'
'Ah. Well, technically, yes, but – greetings, Your Majesty. It's a pleasure.'
'The pleasure is mine! It's always a pleasure to meet any of my precious grandsons' friends. But speaking my grandchildren …' She gives Professor Heine a bewildered look. 'You wouldn't happen to have seen Adele, would you, Professor?'
Heine offers her a bow. 'I believe that one of the prince's guests is entertaining her. They're in that room over there, I believe.'
'Ah, thank you.' With a wave and a farewell, the queen mother knocks on Rin's door and disappears inside.
I follow Heine down the stairs, saying, 'Well, thank you for letting me trail you around, Professor, but I think that I'll get on with it now and – ah, Chiara!'
I lean over the bannister, and Chiara looks up from the flight of stairs below us. 'Ah! Verene!' She's carrying a stack of books with both arms that's almost taller than she is, with Prince Bruno accompanying her and carrying another stack under one arm.
'Can you catch this?' I shout, holding up her room key.
Her eyes widen in alarm, and she frantically shakes her head. 'No?!'
Prince Bruno sets down his pile of books and beckons with one hand. 'I will take it then. Down here, if you please, Miss Pussler?'
'Righto.'
I take careful aim and toss the key down, with the prince snatching it out of the air a moment later.
'Much obliged, Your Highness'
'Not a problem.'
He places the key on top of Chiara's pile of books, picks up his own stack, and the two of them continue down the stairs.
Heine and I take one look at Chiara and flinch. Her eyes are so starry that they could make up a galaxy each.
'Are you quite certain that I don't need to keep an eye on them?' Heine asks warily.
I shake my head. 'It's fine. She's like a puppy dog. She just likes attention of any kind. Besides, she wouldn't even be compatible with your prince – she's got deep-seated psychological issues stemming from a dysfunctional relationship with her father and elder brothers, which saddled her with a perfectionist complex. They're worlds apart.'
'Quite. Worlds apart.'
'Anyway, where were we? Ah, many thanks for allowing me to shadow you today.' I give him a grin and twirl the last remaining key around my finger. 'It was a tremendous help.'
He offers me a bow. 'It was my pleasure.' He pauses, one last question clearly on his lips.
'Is something wrong?'
'No. No, I was merely wondering …' He hesitates. 'This observation is not a slight on you, Miss Verene. It seems as though you and your friends are each capable and talented, and it was a pleasure to meet all of you. Yet I can't help but wonder …'
I half-smile. 'Why us?'
He finally nods. 'Forgive me if that sounds ungracious.'
'I'm the one who put the words into your mouth. But honestly …' Solana's voice turns on like someone flicked a switch in my head. Don't be honest, don't be direct and don't say what you really mean.
I shake my head. '…To be honest, I don't entirely understand why either.'
Why a motley crew of young women? Why even bother with such a novelty act? What's the point?
'Well.' Heine steps onto the stairs, looking back at me as he does. 'Whatever the motive, I have no doubt that you were all chosen for a good reason.'
I smile. 'Thank you for thinking so.'
And ever so briefly, he smiles. Then he disappears.
I lean against the marble. 'This place is like a house of mirrors. How do people even disappear from sight that fast?'
I hold my key up to the light, examining it. No. 2-5.
I sigh. And then I disappear as well.
It seems as though no matter their job or the permanency of their role, the staff in this palace all have one thing in common.
We can disappear like smoke.
We can reappear like fire.
And we can burn everything to the ground.
Chapter 10: You Needn't Approve of Me
Chapter Text
~ Solana ~
With a ragged breath, I stalk back through the doors of Weisburg Palace as the sun sets on Wienner.
I turn the heads of everyone. The maids cover their mouths in surprise, and even the footmen look alarmed. I've got mud and twigs in my hair, my jodhpurs are so ripped that they look more like fishnet tights, and who needs highlighting powder and illuminating skin oils when you're covered in this much sweat?
And thanks to the endless fleet of chandeliers sailing down the palace's halls, I am now glittering – in the worst way humanly possible.
I take another ragged breath. All I'm asking for is to stay upright. I stumble through the foyer while talking to myself, saying, 'Don't talk to me, don't look at me, and don't offer me a towel or so help me – '
'Solana.'
I spin on my heel to claw the speaker's eyes out, but then I realise it's Verene. After a long pause, I lower my hand.
She raises an eyebrow. 'So kind of you to let me live.'
'I know.'
'You look like death warmed over.'
'I know.'
'Are you all right?'
'I don't know.'
I place my hands on my hips and tip my head back, stifling a groan. 'There's something wrong with that prince, I kid you not. Archery, soccer, horse-riding, marksmanship, hunting and fencing, and he wasn't even short of breath. His complexion was glowing, for heaven's sake.'
Verene raises an eyebrow. 'But you learned the layout of the palace's grounds, didn't you?'
I finally lower my eyes from the vaulted ceiling – how do they even dust their cobwebs – and give her outstretched hand a downward slap. 'Every acre.'
'That's my girl.'
One of the maids, Helene, rushes over with a glass of water. I give her a word of thanks before pouring the most of it down my throat and splashing the rest of it over my head.
'Are you all right?' Helene asks nervously.
'Quite. Thank you. Invigorated.'
She nods, slowly backing away, then walks off.
'Do you feel invigorated?' Verene asks.
'I feel like I'm going to vomit or pass out.'
Verene looks around. 'Good grief. We're in a palace full of royals. Where's a strapping prince to carry a damsel in distress when you need one?'
'Enough of that.' We head for the stairs, and I say, 'What's been happening while I was gone?'
Verene sighs. 'I think we're past the worst of it. You, Chiara, Elle and Daphne, have gotten your princes' signatures. Rin has gotten a verbal agreement from Princess Adele. King Viktor has already consented for himself and the … other parties he's deemed necessary to have guards. We're just waiting to hear from Schwarz whether Yulenka has gotten Prince Eins' approval. But we're assuming that he's likely to be just as demanding if not more so than his brothers.'
'And in regards to everything else?'
'I'm working with the high steward to begin coordinating the royal family's schedules. In short, we'll be working in tandem with the Royal Guard to monitor the royal family twenty-four hours a day. He and I will also work out which events and activities we need to accompany the royals at.'
'Good.' I swallow past the sandpapery taste in my mouth and say, 'Good. Good work.'
'A compliment? Are you feeling all right?'
'You're not funny.'
'Come on – if nothing else, tell me you kicked the prince's spoiled ass.'
I wipe the sweat from my brow and give her a weary smirk. 'I didn't let him take all the metaphorical gold for his stupid trophy cabinet … let's put it that way.'
She grins back, but her smile quickly fades. 'Do you think you'll be able to get along with him for a whole month?'
'I will, even if it kills me. My plan is to bribe him with cake and then take it from there.'
'Positive association therapy? It could work, I suppose..'
We finally get to the fourth floor, and I stagger off to my room. 'I need to change. The last thing I need is to cross paths with the king while looking like this.'
'Oh, wait a moment.'
I glance back. 'What?'
Verene jerks a thumb at the grandfather clock in the hall. 'We're supposed to be having a group meeting with the princes in fifteen minutes to discuss the day's affairs.'
'To discuss whether they're still trying to kick us out of the palace or not, you mean.'
'… Yes. Be there on time, please.'
I give her an exhausted wave and trip headlong into my room, pulling the door shut behind me.
I scrub at my face with a hand towel and strip off my clothing, flinging stained leather, cotton, and lingerie around the room as I rummage for another set of clothes. Forget wardrobe changes – we're going burn through a wardrobe's worth of clothes each day at this rate. After shaking out my wild, silvery mop and lacquering it into order, I stumble out the door again, straighten up and stride down the corridor.
Leonhard and I.
Bruno and Chiara.
Licht and Elle.
Kai and Daphne.
Adele and Rin.
Eins and Yulenka.
I check them off on my fingers, nodding for each signature. Theoretically, the princes shouldn't be able to kick us out.
Noise drifts from a nearby sitting room. I square my shoulders, open the doors and step inside.
'Are you free on Friday night, Elle?'
'So he's your schoolmate … Smerdyakov, correct?'
'Apparently, they're going to transfer one student to a different class so I can transfer in …'
You can almost see the chatter swirling around the room. It feels like a lively society hall gathering, even with just the royals and the Chatons. Elle and Licht are laughing over jokes, each new punchline rowdier than the last. Kai is following Daphne around the room, nodding in reply to her questions about the artwork on the walls. Chiara is flailing to stay afloat as Prince Bruno overwhelms her with information about Glanzreich's universities. Adele and Rin are sitting neatly on a sofa like a pair of yin-and-yang dolls.
My own prince comes into the room mere seconds after me, shouldering past without so much as a look.
I clench my jaw and exhale. Don't. You could have gotten the shell-shocked military academy dropout or the womanising playboy. Be grateful that you didn't get the short end of the stick.
Leonhard glances back over his shoulder at me. He smirks. 'Still alive?''
Then he saunters off to join his dear elder brother Prince Bruno before I can even pick my jaw up off the ground. I grind my teeth and fume. Maybe I got the short end of the stick after all.
Professor Heine slips past me with a sigh. 'Please bear with him, he …'
'… has issues. Granted. Who doesn't?'
Heine arches one eyebrow, and at the princess' energetic behest, he leaves me to join Adele and Rin.
I clear my mind for what must be the hundredth time today. But no matter how 'zen' I try to be, I can only empty my mind so much before it's filled again up with the constant racket of four Western princes.
I stride to the centre of the room. 'If I could … have your … hello?'
I place my hands on my hips. I may as well start screaming at a brick wall. I consider whistling or firing one of my pistols at the ceiling. Then I resort to snapping my fingers, clicking incessantly until finally I get everyone's attention and the noise dies down.
Licht raises one eyebrow and grins. 'Nice rhythm.'
I shoot him a look and clear my throat. 'If I could have your attention, thank you. As of this morning, Your Highnesses, you requested that we prove our worth within the day or return to whence we came.' I hold out one hand. The rays of the setting sun paint us all in a wash of amber and crimson, evoking golden gauche and oil paints. 'With nightfall approaching, we need to know your final verdict.'
And I turn … only for my heart to sink as I come face to face with my prince, with pride as tall as Mount Everest and eyes as blue as a summer storm. I clench my fingers around my folder, and I can't help but feel that a signature can only mean so much after all.
Prince Leonhard looks around the room. 'Well … Frankly, I think this is the stupidest idea I've ever heard of.'
I gasp, but he doesn't even notice.
'Female bodyguards? Are you kidding me?'
'No, we're not,' I say weakly.
'It's an even more ridiculous idea than having our tutor be our bodyguard, for crying out loud.'
'Wait, what –'
He narrows his eyes. 'Do you even know how outstanding you were going to have to be to change our minds?'
My hands hit my sides in frustration, my skirts billowing around me. 'What's your point?!'
Leonhard stares at me, arms crossed. Then he puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around as though I'm a doll, with the whole room watching. 'My point is that you're not a cookie-cutter bodyguard like all the others. And you can keep up with my sprint … So I'll put up with you.'
I blink. The Chatons stare at me, and the princes stare at Leonhard. My eyes widen. Could the prince, despite all his arrogance and braggadocio, actually be coming to my aid?
'However,' Leonhard deadpans. 'Contracts and salaries mean nothing, you understand? The moment that one of you does something stupid or crosses the line, this whole deal's off. That's also taking for granted that you'll still get a 'yes' from each of my brothers … and they're not all as reasonable as I am.'
My dreams crumble into dust. 'I hate you.'
Leonhard lets me go and dusts off his hands. 'I hate you too.'
Licht snorts. 'Ah, how thin the line between love and hate …'
'He helps thicken that line,' I shoot back. Then I blink. 'I'm sorry, what?'
'What?' Leonhard repeats. 'I love the idea of kicking her if that's what you meant.'
'And I love the idea of you choking on your own pride …' I mutter.
Licht sits up and elegantly crosses one leg over the other. 'If you kids are done with your petty argument, may I add my two cents?
I take my eyes off Leonhard to give Licht my full attention. Despite the horrific first impression the playboy prince made on us at the outset, the serious light in his eyes makes me wonder if he's still capable of conducting himself with a little dignity, which could work in our favour.
Licht pauses. Then he leans back in his chair with a devilish grin and says, 'Who am I kidding? Do you think that you need to convince me to let you lovely ladies take up residence? Let the good times roll!' A shared smirk and a kiss between Elle and Licht leave us in no further doubt about where he stands on the matter.
The room explodes with outrage. Forget dignity – the prince's very indecency is coming to our rescue instead.
Prince Bruno claps a hand over his eyes, nearly knocking his own glasses off. 'Egads, Brother, can you try to keep that silver tongue of yours in your mouth for more than two minutes?'
Licht snaps his fingers and points at him. 'Wow, Brunie, it's been a while since we've had any new material from you!'
Chairs promptly ducks for cover as Bruno gestures furiously.
'New material?! What do you think this is, a comedy skit?!'
'Historical drama or comedy skit?' I raise an eyebrow. 'I'd go with the latter.'
'Regardless,' Bruno pushes his glasses up and purses his lips. 'State of employment aside, Chiara has earned Master's approval, and therefore, I would even condone her taking up permanent residence if she wished to. In other words, she has my approval as well.'
'What?! Leonhard shrieks. 'I have the utmost respect for you, dearest brother Bruno – but what are you saying? I can barely tolerate the idea of tolerating them for a month, let alone ... gah!'
'Prince Leonhard?' Professor Heine says. He disentangles Adele's fingers from the buttons on his coat and says, 'Are you not the one who first said that the girls should stay? Why are you taking issue with Prince Bruno sharing your opinion?'
'Because he's smart enough to come up with a reason why they should leave!' Leonhard says in a huff.
Licht raises an eyebrow. 'Are you saying you're stupid then?'
'Licht!'
'What?! It's not my fault your rhetoric sucks!'
'Um ...' Kai tentatively raises a hand. One or two of the girls stiffen, and I feel my heels dig into the marble. I don't care if he's gentler than a puppy – he still looks dangerous, and that still gets on my nerves.
'You should ... stay,' Kai says softly. 'A-All of you,' he adds, as though concerned that we may have thought that he was only talking about Daphne. 'Friends ...'
I nod, then I realise that's not going to cut it. He offers me his hand, and I force myself to take it. 'Thank you, Prince.'
'You're welcome.'
For the first time, I actually look him in the eyes. He seems to ... mean what he says.
Then I realise he's patting my hands. I shoot Daphne a look. Her eyebrows lift slightly, but she doesn't seem surprised.
I politely disentangle myself and step back to Prince Leonhard's side, but a hissed stream of curses welcomes me back. 'Excuse me?'
He glares daggers at me. 'I don't care if we were all feeling benevolent or tolerant or whatever you want to call it …' He pivots, bringing the heel of his boot to click sharply against the other, like a salute... minus the salute. '… But don't think that you're going to get your own way that easily!'
I stare at him. 'What part of barely being allowed in the gates and having to jump through hoops to get your signatures – amongst many, many other things – looks like getting our own way?'
He refuses to back down, looking around the room for ammunition for one last attack. His eyes land on Adele.
'Adele! You must be getting tired of having so many people around –'
'Nope!' Adele chirps brightly. She clasps her arms around Rin's waist in a hug, giggling. The Yapanese girl looks surprised. 'Rin and I are the bestest of best friends!' She sits up, a new thought popping into her head. 'Oh, brothers. Can one of you marry Rin so that she can stay here forever?'
Thankfully, we're not at afternoon tea with tea and coffee in hand, or the subsequent spittakes would have necessitated another set of wardrobe changes.
'Where did you get that idea?!' Bruno protests.
Adele pouts, saying, 'If you get married somewhere, then you don't have to leave! If I married Professor Heine, I'd get to stay here – so if you married Rin, she'd get to stay here forever!'
'Heaven forbid that the man moves to the woman's household or home country,' I mutter.
Licht shakes his head. 'Sorry, Adele. She's not really my type.'
'Not your preferred bust circumference, you mean,' Bruno retorts.
'Whoa! That was harsh!'
Rin looks vaguely ill.
'Rin?' I ask.
'Hai Daijoubu desu yo. Deshou … Desu ka?'
'I think they've finally broken her,' Verene says with a wince.
Leonhard places his hands on his hips, trying to avoid my burning stare while he looks for another escape route. 'I, um, uh …' My heart starts beating faster. The prince is running out of ideas. Maybe we'll actually survive this and obtain real permissions to back up the signatures.
Leonhard tosses his head and says, 'It's not like dearest eldest Brother Eins would be stupid enough to agree to this! He's good for that kind of thing, at least!'
Bruno's expression darkens. 'I suppose … though common courtesy may still prohibit him from giving a point-blank refusal.'
Kai fidgets, toying with his gloves. Licht looks away, visibly fuming.
Verene leans over and whispers, 'Is this about the line of succession, or do I detect some unrelated animosity?'
Suddenly, we hear the shrill ringing of a telephone bell. Jakob Frien, the high steward, graciously interrupts our gathering. 'Miss Yulenka Motkovic is calling from Schwarz Palace for Miss Solana de la Roux.'
'At least she's still alive to make the call,' Licht mutters.
I laugh uneasily, following Jakob out of the room with Prince Leonhard trailing behind me.
No one else laughs.
The telephone is set in an alcove that seems to have been designed specifically for it. The phone is made of burnished wood and filigree gold, decorated with small crystals. The whole rig looks newly installed and must be worth a mint.
I take the handpiece offered by Jakob and gingerly hold it to my ear. The last thing I want is to get it stuck in my hair.
'Yulenka?'
A pause. 'Solana.' Her voice crackles stiffly.
I adjust my grip, turning my back on Leonhard. 'How are things?'
A lengthy pause. Then she says, 'I have Prince Eins' signature.'
I hear a dry, grating laugh, and a male voice says. 'After much effort.' His voice has a tinny echo.
I hear a smooth chuckle, and a different male voice says. 'How long do you think until the rest of the witches burn at your brothers' hands, Eins?'
My heart skips a beat, slamming into my ribs with a startled thump.
'... Ernst. That was unnecessary.'
'I beg your pardon.'
'Beg hers.'
'"Her" is still on the phone. Aren't you, my dear?'
'For St. Peter's sake, Ernst …'
I try to swallow. My mouth is too dry. I shift the mouthpiece. I'm acutely aware of Prince Leonhard's gaze. My facial expression must be filling in the gaps of what he can't hear, and he looks concerned. I tuck the hand piece closer to my jaw, against my ear.
'Yulenka?' I ask.
She pauses yet again, and clears her throat. 'I will see you soon, Solana.'
'Wait. Please tell me how things are at Schwarz.'
'… It reminds me of the ballet academy. I feel quite at home.'
The handpiece begins to slip from my fingers.
'Wait –'
'I have much work to do. Give my love to the girls.' And with a snowy whisper of static, she hangs up.
Jakob takes the handpiece from my hand and places it back on the hook.
Yulenka only talked about her days at the ballet academy once. It was a dark night, and we were telling each other terrifying stories from the safety of our townhouse. Spooking each other was a chill-inducing way to beat the late-night summer heat.
Yulenka told us a story about a castle ruled by monsters and men. Beautiful sirens and witches filled its walls. She told us about blood and roses and spot-lit falls into the orchestra pit. She told us about bones that snapped like kindling and passionate fires that burned like hell.
After finishing her story, she disappeared into her room and drained an entire bottle of vodka in the dark. I did nothing to help her. I only slid down the wall and stared at the wallpaper opposite me while Elle held back Yulenka's hair as the strong, silent, beautiful girl we all viewed as our older sister threw up and sobbed.
A chill races down my spine. What darkness lies in Schwarz that would cause Yulenka to liken the palace to the academy?
'Hey.' Leonhard shakes me by the shoulder and examines my eyes. I finally snap out of my stupor. 'Anyone in there?'
'Stop it.' I'm too distracted to deal with his manhandling properly.
'Did my brother say something?'
'What makes you think he said something?' I can tell that I responded too quickly, and I grit my teeth.
Leonhard frowns. 'Because he's always saying stupid things. It's something that he's known for.'
I might be confused, but I'm still sharp enough to retort. 'I thought you were the one who was known for saying stupid things.'
'Oi!' Leonhard says in outrage. 'How dare you?!'
'I didn't say it,' I say quickly. 'Licht said it.'
Leonhard steps back, but then he grabs me by the shoulder again. 'I don't think so! I'm not that dumb – you were the one who said that, just now!'
We could do this all day …
'But Licht said it first. That means it's his fault.'
It's simple enough to convince him. Leonhard charges back into the drawing-room, and I hear a high-pitched shriek of protest from the youngest prince.
I head back inside and snap my fingers to get the room's attention. I pause for emphasis, yet it only seves to remind me of Yulenka's characteristic pauses. Whatever she's referring to – whatever's happening at Schawarz – there's no point in worrying about it now. She's trained, she's strong and she can take care of herself.
'Ladies and gentlemen,' I say. 'Prince Eins has seen fit to cooperate.'
Leonhard groans, Licht's eyebrows shoot up, Bruno's eyes widen and Kai is patting Daphne's hands again.
'Your Highnesses. You said that if we could prove ourselves within the day, then we could remain in the palace. We have all obtained your signatures –'
'Oh yeah? What about Adele's?' Leonhard demands.
Professor Heine pushes his glasses up. 'Highness, Princess Adele is not yet able to read and write. As evidenced by Adele's infatuation with Miss Kimura, the princess's guard has her whole-hearted approval, with or without a signature.'
'… Do you have to use so many words?'
'No. You, however, don't have to take issue with the fact that I do.'
'Gah! Damn it!'
Leonhard finally notices me staring at him, and he takes a step back. My furious desperation must be written all over my face. He rubs one gloved hand over his eyes. '…Ugh. Then there's nothing … that we can do to get you to shut up or go away?'
'Short of all of you synchronistically and spontaneously perishing – which would negate your need for protection – no, there is not. Especially not with our presence being both sanctioned and sponsored by His Majesty the King.'
'Don't you dare bring Father into this!'
I place a hand on my hip and hold up the sheaf of signed documents, but I remain at a distance so he can't snatch and destroy them. 'We defied and exceeded your expectations, Prince. At least have the good grace to accept reality.'
He stiffens. After an agonising silence, he finally spits out, 'Fine, welcome to the palace and enjoy your damn stay!' He raises an eyebrow. 'Happy?'
'Endlessly so. But where are dazzling smiles and outstretched hands this time?'
'Around here, you only get the red carpet treatment once,' Professor Heine says under his breath, 'After that … welcome to the real world.'
I hold out my free hand to the prince. 'Shake?'
Because if there's anything I've learned, it's that there's no getting out of something once you've shaken on it in front of a dozen other people.
Leonhard pulls back as though he's been stung. 'I'm not touching some commoner who just washed in off the street!'
A faint ripple of laughter, from both parties. At this point, I realise that I may actually be … winning this one.
I smirk and say, 'That's why you wear gloves. Come on, Prince. Shake.'
'I am not a dog –'
Professor Heine gives Leonhard a pointed look. 'Surely you can try "this much", Your Highness.'
Leonhard stops. And miraculously, against all the odds … he takes my hand.
Or rather, my finger.
'Eh? Prince, what is this?'
The prince gestures with his thumb and forefinger. 'I'll try this much, all right?'
'Am I missing something? And am I literally only getting a finger width's worth of effort from you?'
Professor Heine shakes his head. 'I am afraid it would take too long to explain. You should take your victory as it is and celebrate.'
As though on cue, the royals of the house of Glanzreich say, 'And welcome to Weisburg Palace!'
As though releasing a collective breath, the room floods with chatter, questions and comments, with laughter scattered throughout. I sigh and put my papers away.
'Well …' I curtsey, taking Prince Leonhard by surprise. 'Thank you for your hospitality and generosity, Your Highness,' I say in a sweet voice.
He looks surprised. Then he frowns. 'Well, I'm glad to see you finally showing us the respect we deserve. You have appalling manners.'
He has an appalling inferiority complex, but I don't voice that sentiment. 'You bring out the best in me, Prince.'
'If this is your best, then I'd hate to see your worst!'
I hear Verene snorts, and Leonhard runs off to hunt down whoever dared laugh, disappearing into the crowd.
I feel as though I'll find some grey streaks when brushing my hair later tonight. I haven't been this stressed in years. In the chaos, I bump into Professor Heine. I hurriedly pull him aside before Elle steps on him. She seems to be wrangling one prince while talking to another and shouting something at Daphne, all at the same time.
'Hey.' I clear my throat. The professor's amber eyes flick up to mine. 'Thanks.'
'I should be the one thanking you for the save just now.' But Heine still glances at Prince Leonhard. The young royal is behaving like an older brother for what is likely the first and only time in his life, seemingly telling Prince Licht off for attempting to talk to too many girls at once.
'But truly, I did not do anything,' Heine continues. 'Prince Leonhard has the "memory of a goldfish", if recall correctly –'
'I did not say that!' Leonhard yells over his shoulder. 'I don't even remember saying it!'
I choked down an inappropriate laugh. Heine's lips twitch ever so slightly. 'If you say so, Prince.' He looks back up at me and says. 'I was merely expediting your certain victory. Welcome to the palace, Miss Solana. Enjoy your stay.'
'Thank you.' I plaster a pretty smile on my face and say, 'It seems we're over the worst of it.'
Heine's face blanks. 'The worst of it? What are you talking about? Now you're going to have to live with them for a whole month. If anything, forming an acquaintanceship with the princes promptly results in any initial niceties being thrown out the window.'
My smile remains plastered on my face, but internally … I'm screaming. 'I beg your pardon? Niceties?'
Fighting, arguing, running a verbal and physical gauntlet … that was all niceties?
'Correct. Niceties that will likely be dispensed with forthwith.'
'Hey, Heine!'
'Teach!'
'Teacher!'
'Master!'
The princes promptly sweep me aside, and Heine disappears from view, hidden behind military uniforms and flashes of gold.
Is it wrong that I want to ask him how he does it? Is it bad that I'm slightly terrified?
If nothing else, I'm going to be grateful to have a soft mattress for the next month.
I fall facefirst down onto the bed. I allow myself one brief scream, muffled by the pillow, then I collapse like a floppy ragdoll. I didn't even have dinner with the royal family. I had a tray brought to my room – as did the other girls – so that we could unpack at our leisure. I still feel like I've run a marathon regardless.
A knock on the door.
'Mmm-mmm-mmmph.'
I raise my head slightly and look down. The pillowcase has the kingdom's coat of arms embroidered on it. I scoff and drop my head again. I'll likely have the coat of arms imprinted on my cheek in the morning, but I don't care. Just another way to show my nationalistic pride, I guess. Even though Glanzreich isn't even my nation to begin with. 'Come in.'
The door clicks, and Elle squeezes through the gap.
I open one eye and promptly shut it again. 'Tell me you weren't wearing that in Prince Licht's room. Rather, at least tell me you didn't just traverse the palace hallways in it.'
'Is the red silk too much?'
'You're too much.'
She laughs. Then she walks over, opens the window and leans out. Her golden hair looks silver in the moonlight, cascading over her exposed shoulders. 'Congratulations.'
'On what? Nearly losing my composure and making a fool of myself on day one?'
'Well, kinda,' she drawls. 'You're normally a bit more well put together than that.'
'Tell me about it.'
'But no – congratulations on getting in.'
I slowly sit up. She looks back at me. Her skin is painted with silver, and mine is painted with sweat and bruises. She smiles.
I prop my chin in my hand and say, 'It's surreal. I mean … I'm in. What do I do now?'
'Protect some princes, break some hearts, get filthy rich off the back of this job and earn the Chatons the international acclaim we've always dreamed of.'
'That's your agenda, not mine.' I stop. 'I mean, that's our agenda. But …'
'I know, I know.' Elle sighs. 'You've got your ownagenda. But … just watch yourself, will you? If I didn't know better, I'd say that your personal stakes are hijacking your emotions.'
'Don't be ridiculous. These princes are the most aggravating boys I've ever met in my life. My emotional instability stems from them alone.'
'Sure. Sure.'
'Elle …'
'No, no, I'm not judging. You've got trauma buried in your past, and you've got to work through it somehow.' She rolls her eyes and drapes her hand on the windowsill.. 'Because we love stereotypical heroines with deep-seated psychological issues.'
'Elle,' I warn.
'I'm kidding.' She rubs the bridge of her nose and grimaces. 'Look, Solana. Just … remember that you're not doing this on your own, all right? I don't want to have to throttle you if your grand plans go south and shipwreck our entire crew.'
'Grand plans?' My voice has an edge to it.
'I've always given it to you straight. Why should this be any different?' Her voice softens slightly. 'Do you know what you're going to do?'
'I don't know. I haven't even found him yet. I've been chasing a phantom across the Western Continent. Can you even catch a phantom in the first place?'
Elle sighs. 'Now there's a question for the brainiac prince. Perhaps I could haul him out of bed and ask him.'
I snort. 'You do that. In your "red satin", no less. He'd be thrilled.'
'He'd be apoplectic.'
We laugh, giggling behind our hands.
'Speaking of our phantom,' I say. 'You've already asked Rinako to divine his location, haven't you?'
'I did. But we haven't had time to try again since entering the kingdom, obviously, and Rin claims that her onmyojitalents have locational limits. But it seems that the spirits are extremely uncooperative whenever it comes to … him.'
'Oh well. Tell her to chalk out a divining circle in the Castle Court and give it another shot.'
'I'm sure the soldiers will be enthused. They'll think she's trying to curse their fencing practice.' Elle pauses. 'You really think he's here, don't you?'
I meet her gaze. 'Elle. I located my mother's landlady in Fonseine. I made her talk. She told me that my mother fled Glanzreich to get away from him. He's a monster. He has the Kingdom of Glanzreich in a stranglehold, and he's hiding beneath right the surface.' I stab the coverlet with a finger, saying, 'I've finally found where he's been hiding. Now all I've got to do is find out who he is.'
'Did it ever occur to you that the last thing your mother would have wanted was for you to run right back into the underworld she rescued you from when she escaped?'
'Yeah. It did. But she can't stop me.' The words sound hollow and off-kilter. 'She can't stop me … because she's dead, Elle.'
Her lips twist in an echo of empathetic pain. Because even when I'm being a selfish idiot, she still cares. She cares enough to remember the failed divination attempts. She cares enough to listen to my endless rehashing of old clues and red herrings even though she's already heard it countless times before.
I turn away and look out the window. 'And that's why I just can't let it go.'
Elle stops beside me on her way out, lightly kissing my hair. 'I'm just worried about you.
'I don't have a choice.'
And I don't want to make that choice, either – because If I had to choose between the Chatons and my revenge, I don't know if I would be strong enough to make the right decision.
I look up at her. 'You don't need to worry. The Chatons are my priority, but I can have my cake and eat it too.'
Elle bites back a smirk and winces. 'I've heard that guillotine jokes don't go down well around here.'
'It was subtle. It was a historical reference.'
'It was a historical reference to a gal who married out of this kingdom and into Fonseine, where she was promptly beheaded for having unrealistic aspirations.'
'Are you trying to tell me something?'
She smirks openly this time and waltzes to the door. 'I'm telling you to save your dazzling humour for my ears only – so that it doesn't get you killed. All right, I'm off to see how many guards I can seduce on my way back to my chambers.'
I wave her away in mock offence and lean forward to see Verene coming in as Elle goes out. Verene salutes. 'Capitan.'
'Your capitan is about to fall asleep sitting up. Make it quick.'
'Trust me, I've no desire to hear you snore.' She passes me a schedule for tomorrow. It's written on stiff paper, inked in gold and outlined in half-an-hour increments.
'Good heavens.'
'They have a whopping stationery cupboard here. It was like setting a child loose in a sweet shop.'
'His Majesty's high steward must find you amusing.'
'He finds me pedantic and stroppy, but it suites his obsessive-compulsive tendencies just fine.'
'Good for you.'
Verene lingers for a moment, then at my nod, she smiles and slips out of the room.
I fall back onto my pillow, heedless of the embroidery sinking into my back and shoulders like a thousand tiny thorns. My head's spinning, and I stare at the ceiling in the dead quiet of the night.
I feel the vaguest echo of déjà vu . The chandelier blurs and glitters in the dark.
Even though I've faked my way into the most infamous kingdom in the Western Continent … even though I've found a lead for the first time in years … I can't shake this chilling feeling that pervades my every limb.
I don't belong here.
All I can do is outrun my reality until I find the truth.
I close my eyes. The last time I was in a church, someone nearly died. So I pray to the silence instead. My prayers echo around the room, tolling and reverberating in my skull like a hundred cathedral bells.
Two prayers twist in my head like glowing ribbons, so real that they sear my thoughts and eyes.
Gold and silver. Red and blue. Blue and gold. Red and blond.
Help me help them.
And help me find him.
The prayers intertwine into a glowing thread that cleaves through the darkness like a knife.
And please help me kill him.
Chapter 11: A Teacher's Duel
Chapter Text
~ Heine ~
If I were in any position other than that of the royal tutor, then I would say that I'm not getting paid enough for this.
But apparently, my excessive salary is enough to cover not only looking after an assorted half-dozen "diplomatic guests" but also mediating affairs so that Glanzreich cannot be blamed for igniting history's first world war.
I take another sip of my melange.
… I should have asked for a double shot.
I've worked with many younger children during my years at Maria Vetsera, and I've had enough of adolescent boys to last me the rest of my life, thanks to the princes. However, I've realised that I've yet to work with many young ladies throughout my teaching career.
It can't be that different, can it?
Well, according to Verene Püssler, it's not.
I recall her saucy grin, untamed red hair and ironic words. By contrast, women usually spend more time crying over trivial things, fussing with their hair, obsessing over getting perfect test scores, playing with small, cute animals, or rounding up friends for some quality conversation over a drink …
I wince. If only she knew.
I examine her photograph more closely, then glance at the papers beneath it. She's from Ghermany. That's next to Glanzreich.
The princes' guards are from all over the Western Continent – a veritable rainbow of nationalities, personalities and talents.
I take another sip of my coffee, glancing over the confidential documents and handfuls of photographs – of both princes and bodyguards – spread over every inch of my desk's surface.
His Majesty was kind enough to give their dossiers upon my request.
I've been looking over these photographs and notes for the better part of last night and this morning, but one thing has struck me as strange. Whether it be similarities in build, height, or hair colour …
I stare down at two pictures, one of Prince Kai and one of Daphne Dänot, in bewilderment.
Pray tell, why do the princes and their guards look alike?
I refuse to believe that Viktor would be so stupid as to try to pass the girls off as little-known second cousins … or as illegitimate children, heaven forbid. I blanch. Heaven forbid, indeed. The mere idea that someone, let alone someone of his station, wouldn't take enough care to prevent such an occurrence is a worrying thought.
But whatever the reasoning, sitting in my room thinking about it isn't going to accomplish anything.
I drain the last of my coffee, get up and push my chair in. I'm due to meet with the girls and the princes at ten o'clock, and I better hurry if I want to get there before Bruno does. The idea of being 'late' – even in contrast to his earliness – grates on my nerves.
I step into the hall with some papers, books and my teacher's pointer in my arms. I fumble for my pocket watch, glancing at it as I walk.
'… The third common sitting room?'
I slow to a halt. One of the girls stands in the hallway, staring at a piece of paper with a crease in her brow. 'Where the hell is that?'
'Down the corridor.'
Her head jerks up, and she turns to face me.
Solana de la Roux. The Chatons' leader, in essence, if not in name. Calm, cool and collected … except when it comes to Prince Leonhard. But you could say the same about the most stoic of individuals. A faint, tiny scar adorns her temple, nicking one of her eyebrows.
'Ah. Professor Wittgenstein.' The care she takes pronouncing the soft 'v' sound and harsh consonants reminds me that Gherman is only her second language, though her accent is very good if what Verene said is correct – that she only recently pushed herself to become fluent. 'Good morning,' she says.
I nod. 'Bonjour à vous aussi. I'm headed to the common sitting room myself. Would you care to accompany me?'
She stuffs her schedule into her pocket and falls in step with me. 'Thank you.'
After a moment, I ask, 'Did you get sufficient rest? You look rather tired.'
She looks startled. Dark shadows are painted beneath her eyes like makeup, but she is either unaware or bothered. 'I, ah … I'm fine.'
'I heard you were working up a sweat in the woods with Prince Leonhard yesterday.'
'I was the only one working up a sweat …'
On closer inspection, she has a thin, wiry frame and a heart-shaped face. Based on the athleticism she exhibited yesterday, she would likely be more at home in riding clothes or trousers – like Lady Beatrix – as opposed to the gothic, long black dress she always wears.
I open the doors to the common sitting room right as Prince Bruno and Chiara Silvestri round the corner.
'Master! Good morning!' Bruno crosses the space between us in a single bound. Solana flattens herself against the wall as though trying to escape a runaway train in a tunnel. I resist the urge to flee into the adjacent room.
'Good morning, Prince.'
Chiara follows Bruno's lead and joins us with an uncertain hop across the carpet, offering me her hand the moment that Bruno lets go. I try not to laugh. It feels like watching a shadow puppet show with a slight lag resulting from the second puppeteer following the lead of the first.
'E buongiorno, signorina Chiara.'
She gives a startled yip and, for whatever reason, blurts out, 'I-I'll do my best!'
Chiara Silvestri. A Venetian nobleman's daughter, one hailing from the infamous cloistered Black Nobility, at that. A charming young girl … but one that you would hardly expect to have the backbone to leave her family circle. So why did she leave in the first place?
'Do your best at what?' Solana asks dryly, entering the sitting room.
'It does not matter what – the right attitude to have is one of willingness and enthusiasm!' Bruno calls after her. Then he turns to me and asks, 'What are we actually doing, Master?'
'You'll have to willingly jump into the unknown with enthusiasm, Prince. I think it would be preferable to gather everyone before we begin the day's work.'
He salutes with a sharp click of his heels, and says, 'Yes, Master!' before sprinting through the doors.
Chiara tries to curtsey, salute, and click her heels together all at once, saying, 'Willingly enthusiastic, Master!' then she gives up and skitters after the prince. I smile and follow her into the room.
Yes, that's the difference – for whatever reason, hero worship is marginally more tolerable coming from young ladies than young men. I grimace. Perhaps that's because young ladies have the tact to phrase it more delicately. Or perhaps it's because. Bruno is simply the most unsubtle apprentice on the planet. The latter seems more likely, and I sigh.
'Master?'
'Nothing.'
Solana paces the room, weaving in and out of desks and chairs with curiosity. 'Is this a classroom?'
Her words draw Bruno's attention. 'No, it isn't. When were all these desks and chairs brought in here?'
I make no comment and merely place my things on the teacher's desk at the front of the room.
Kai and Daphne walk by the door … and keep going. I blink. Solana opens her mouth, but then she shuts it and shakes her head.
At the last second, Daphne catches sight of us, does a double take and yanks Kai back, guiding him through the door. 'This way, Prince.'
'But …'
'Those towels will still be there when we're done,' she says firmly, glancing over her shoulder.
'… Okay.'
'Towels, brother?' Bruno asks in bewilderment.
'New ones,' Kai said mournfully. 'Fluffy.'
'… I hate to say it, but Fräulein Daphne is right, brother. They'll still be there when you get back.'
'Thank you, Prince Bruno.' Daphne swipes her ragged fringe out of her eyes.
Daphne Dänot. The only one of the girls who is a native of Glanzreich. She's also another Chaton attempting to hide her noble blood. The Dänots are a prominent noble family with ties to the Theresian Military Academy. Daphne herself looks as though she would fit right in at the academy… in all honesty, she looks as though she could be related to Kai in one way or another.
The fact that the girls bear an uncanny resemblance to their charges nags at me once again.
'Guten Morgen, Prince Kai, Miss Daphne.'
'Morning …'
'Good morning, Professor.'
I look to the door for the next arrival, and sure enough, Prince Leonhard strides in. He takes one look at Solana and strides right back out.
I jump up from my chair with a clatter. 'Prince, wait –'
'Leonhard?' Bruno calls out in a dangerous tone. 'If you're skipping Master's lessons again, I shall be sorely disappointed in you!'
A second later, Leonhard zooms back through the door with a speed that rattles the chandeliers. 'Of course not!'
'You were very clearly running away,' Solana says.
He glares at her. 'And you clearly didn't come to your senses and decide to leave.'
'As far as I'm aware, there were no hungry ghosts or kidnappers to spirit me away in the dead of night. Sorry to disappoint.'
'If you're sorry to disappoint, then how about you do something pleasing and go home –'
'Your Highness? Solana?' I say sharply. 'Play nice. This isn't kindergarten – I shouldn't have to tell you.'
A dark glare over the top of my glasses cuts off any further argument, and the two of them abruptly sit down in the nearest sets of desks and chairs.
Princess Adele skips into the room with her guard following close behind.
'Good morning, brothers!'
'Adele!' Leonhard sings out, and even Bruno and Kai smile. 'What are you doing here?' Leonhard asks.
She giggles. 'No idea!' she says and looks at the girl behind her.
Rinako Kimura. Apparently, she trained in many arts and vocations during her time in Yapan – kunoichi, maiko, ronin, geisha, ninja, onmyoji – not that I knew what any of the terms meant until I looked them up. But Viktor stressed two things to me at the outset. Firstly, she was a bloodthirsty warrior who could make my dirty street-fighting skills look positively polite. And secondly, Viktor asked me to try and make her feel welcome.
I catch Rinako's eye and lower my head in greeting, 'Ohayou gozaimasu, Rinako-san.'
Her eyes widen. She turns to face me and bows until all I can see of her is her hat. 'Ohayou gozaimashita, oushitsu kyoushi Haine. Kyou wa o genki desu ka?'
'Oh, h-hai,' I stammer. 'Yes.'
She raises her head, and I lower mine again, except that she immediately bows again, and so on and so on until Solana finally gestures for me to stop. Rinako promptly takes a seat, only to nearly fall off her chair when Princess Adele springs into her lap.
Distant voices reach us from outside the room. '… It's this one, isn't it?'
'Yeah, this one.'
Prince Licht and his guard walk in, deep in conversation. Something about them doesn't look quite right. I finally realise that their clothes and hair are mussed, as though they came straight here from whatever they were doing prior to convening with the rest of us.
'Good morning, Prince Licht,' I say before repeating the same in English to Elle. She grins in reply. 'Perhaps you would care to tidy yourselves up a bit?'
They look startled. They glance at each other and smother laughter behind their hands. 'Oh, Teach,' Licht says. 'Yeah, sure.'
'… Why was that amusing, pray tell?'
All I get is another laugh, and they sit down. Licht rakes a hand through his hair.
Bruno looks up, and his book hits the surface of his desk with a bang. 'Licht.'
Licht gives him a look. 'Bruno?'
'Her garments are disheveled! It is unseemly! It is improper! It's not even nine in the –' he checks his pocket watch, '– scratch that, it's two minutes past nine – on top of all your other sins, you are late. I am thoroughly ashamed of you.'
'I always look like this,' Elle says, lazily raising an eyebrow.
Bruno rounds on her. 'Like what? A harlot?'
I abruptly stand up. 'Prince Bruno!'
He startles and turns to face me. 'Yes?'
I must look as aghast as I feel. Bruno quickly pales, no doubt remembering that Licht's newest companion is not one of the youngest prince's throwaway girlfriends whom he will insult categorically while fighting with his younger brother.
Bruno turns to Elle and coughs. He dips his head. 'My apologies. I'm afraid that my brothers and I have an unfortunate habit of bringing our personal grievances with each other to the table when we have guests. I apologise for raising my voice … and for my choice of words.'
'Calm down,' Elle says cheerfully. 'Besides, you can't hurt a skank's feelings if they don't have any.'
Bruno looks perplexed. 'Pardon? Skunk?'
'Don't you speak English? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.'
Licht bursts out laughing. Elle grins, then takes one look at Bruno's face and cracks up as well.
I sit back down and rest my chin on my hand, staring at Prince Licht's latest 'companion' and wondering yet again if I should be worried … though this time my concern is directed towards the princes. I clearly don't need to worry about Elle herself. With a skin as thick as hers, she could probably sit down to tea with Count Rosenberg and have a splendid time.
Elle Satinwood. She left Colombia to come to the Western Continent in order to support her ailing grandfather – or that's her cover story, anyway. No formal education, yet she's said to be a talented seamstress. I bite my lip. The fact that a seamstress seemingly "fled" to another country is intriguing in its own right, but the information I was provided goes no further.
Verene dashes into the room and takes her seat so quickly that the legs of her chair skid across the marble. 'Sorry, everyone. I was so busy writing out all of your schedules that I forgot to write my own.'
Verene Püssler. The Chatons' administrative assistant. Apparently, she's here solely as a coordinator and a backup operative, taking care of the behind-the-scenes work. She seems to be responsible for the aesthetically pleasing schedules I've seen popping up around the room. She already stopped by my room this morning to hand me my own schedule with perfect charm and manners, and she couldn't help herself – she had to shovel up a snowdrift of papers that had spilled from my desk while she was at it.
I watch her in silence, spinning my pen with my fingertips. While I appreciate that she's giving me a lot of help in exchange for very little, letting someone have free access to my room could be … problematic. I make a mental note to remember to lock my doors and double-check the locks more often.
Because, as of yet, we still know very little about any of these girls, as callous as that may sound.
I grip my pen, stilling its twirling motion in my fingers.
Despite these girls being here for the sole purpose of protecting the princes, I still feel the pressing need to look out for the boys – to protect them. While they've suffered their fair share at the hands of tutors and manipulative adults alike … an equal amount of damage has been inflicted upon them by people their own age.
I pray that with the help of these girls ... that the princes will be kept safe. Because it's not as though I can go and become their bodyguard at the drop of a hat, is it?
I put the thought aside, stand up and reach for my pointer. Then I notice a small silver bell on the corner of my desk. I raise an eyebrow. Whose idea was that? But I pick it up and ring it nonetheless.
A clear, metallic ringing cuts through the chatter, and once I have everyone's attention, I put the bell down. 'Thank you. Class is in session.'
Surprised whispering ensues, mostly from the girls. Solana hesitates, then she raises her hand.
'Yes, Madmoiselle Roux,' I say.
'Are we to sit in on the princes' classes?' Judging by her quick, calculating glances, she's likely thinking that, if anything, it would be better to have the guards stationed around the perimeter of the classroom.
'No, you are to be joining in.'
She blinks. 'Joining in?' she repeats in Fonseine, and the room erupts.
I wait patiently for the questions flooding the room to dissipate, then I speak again. 'As "diplomatic guests" that are still of schooling age, it was thought that it may be beneficial for you to join the princes in the classroom.'
Solana is staring at me in dismay, but I continue, lowering my voice to a warning lilt. 'That is … if you've not too been busy skirting mortal peril and fraternising with the nobility to have kept up with your studies.'
'I-I say, sir …' Solana retorts. I can see her mind racing as she scrambles for an out. 'The princes' safety is our first priority. Are you really suggesting that we divide our attention between so many quarters?'
'I thought the idea was that you would be living and working alongside the princes. Was it not? It just so happens that all the princes are so dedicated to outdoing their eldest brother in their bids for the crown that a substantial amount of that living and working is done in the classroom.'
Solana snaps her mouth shut. To push the point further would be to argue that the Chatons were incompetent to the point of being unable to keep one eye on their prince and one eye on their arithmetic. This would be a stretch of the imagination, as these girls hardly seem stupid.
Then Solana sees Prince Leonhard's smirk and turns on him. 'What is that awful look on your face for?'
'You're so rude … And if you must know, I'm merely revelling in your suffering. For all your fancy tricks and showing off, now we get to see how you fare with school work!'
Licht grimaces. 'Leonhard. Lest we forget, "one point". Let Bruno be the one to flaunt our collective bragging rights, if you will.'
'Hey! How dare you?!'
'You contribute very little yourself to those collective bragging rights, Licht,' Bruno chides.
'He's right, though,' Kai says. 'You're smart, Bruno …'
'Professor Heine,' Solana says, and I turn my attention to her. She sits straight-backed, elbows on her desk, fingertips pressed together. 'I don't want to sound disrespectful … but what if we don't want to?'
Elle's eyes narrow. Verene's lips pucker in shock. The princes look scandalised. I patiently wait for her to continue. 'Meaning?'
'I'm sure you're an excellent teacher … but additional work that has nothing to do with why we're here is not only likely to become a distraction – but is it not also doubling your workload as well? Furthermore, we were told nothing about this.'
'Thank you for your loving concern …' Those of the princes and girls more prone to laughter promptly clap their hands over their mouths, and Solana stiffens. '… But additional work is of no concern to me.'
I weigh Solana up. No one can truly know another person's motives, but I can at least try to see where she's coming from. 'But as for your other concern … Yes. This has nothing to do with why you're here.'
'Pardon?'
'Despite that … I feel that it may be beneficial for all of you to learn together and work together over the next month. You don't have to go back to school if you don't want to, but… I think it may be a good opportunity for you.'
Bruno pivots in his chair, to address the room at large, but he's glaring at Solana specifically. I brace myself for a rant.
'I think that you may have failed to grasp exactly what a significant opportunity this is. Mas – I mean, Professor Wittgenstein – is a talented educator who is renowned throughout Glanzreich and the Western Continent. Normally, only nobles or scholars are selected to fill the role of royal tutor, but Mas – the professor – was appointed entirely due to his own merit, and Mas –'
'Brunie, why do you keep saying "Mass"?' Licht props his head up on one hand with a lazy grin. 'You'd think our family was Catholic or something.'
'We –' Bruno snaps his mouth shut and gives Licht a filthy look. 'We are Catholic – the Glanzreich dynasty has led and overseen the Holy Church for decades, you dolt. And you would you kindly let me finish my rant?!'
'Sorry. Just clarifying.'
'Tch. Thank you.'
'Pardon … Princes.' Solana stares at me, yet her gaze keeps flicking to Bruno. 'Are you saying that your royal tutor is not a member of the nobility?'
'What does it matter?' Leonhard sounds annoyed.
'It matters because it means he's trying to tell us what to do despite having no right, reason or authority to do so – in the light of common social norms, if nothing else.'
Leonhard bolts out of his chair, and Bruno does the same. 'What the hell is your problem?' Leonhard demands.
'Boys. Sit down. Now.'
They do comply with a startled thump.
'Solana has a valid point. Strictly speaking, I have no right or authority to give anyone orders here. Class structure and rank do not permit it. But let me be clear – I am not telling you what to do. I am only making a request. Comparatively speaking, I may as well tell Lady Beatrix to do her math homework.'
'But these girls aren't nobles!' Leonhard protests.
I arch one eyebrow. 'You don't know that. As a matter of fact, some of them may very well hold equivalent or similar ranks in their home countries.'
'But –'
'No buts.' I return my attention to Solana once more. 'No, Miss Solana, I have no right to request anything of you – no right save but for that of the king.'
An abrupt silence ensues.
'His Majesty was the one who suggested that you and the princes study together. Any requests that I make of you, I make with his authority.' I hold up a signed document, and Solana's eyes lock onto the signature. 'In the same way that His Majesty gave me the authority to teach the princes by choosing me for this post despite my lack of rank or qualifications, he also gave me the right to help you and look out for you on his behalf. That applies whether you choose to accept my academic instruction or not.'
I didn't want to pull the 'king' card to win them over, but an adequate argument deserves an adequate counterargument.
'His Majesty was the one who chose you to guard his family, girls. Would you not say that he has good judgement?'
Solana stares at me. She takes one last look at the king's signature. Then she dips her head. 'I can't say anything to the contrary. I am well and truly convinced, and we will take you up on your kind offer. Thank you in advance for your instruction and teaching.'
Licht yawns. 'Are you done yet? This could probably fill a chapter in a book, for crying out loud …'
'Careful, Prince,' I warn, setting down the signed document. 'My efforts to get you to accept me as your tutor could probably fill an entire book. Kettle pot.'
'What does kitchenware have to do with any of this?'
'Wow, Leonie. Just … wow.'
'What? Did I say something smart?'
'No, otherwise we'd have tabloids and journalists racing to cover such a once-in-a-lifetime event. '
I ring the bell, wishing that my benefactor had seen fit to give me a loudhailer instead. 'If I have adequately addressed your concerns…' I give Leonhard and Solana pointed looks. 'Then shall we begin?'
And at a quarter past ten, class is finally, truly in session.
Chapter 12: Class is in Session!
Chapter Text
~ Heine ~
I pick up the chalk and write my name on the chalkboard. 'The princes and princess need no reminder, but for those of you who are new, my name is Heine Wittgenstein. I look forward to teaching you. If you have any questions, you may raise your hand.'
Elle's hand goes up immediately. She looks a little sheepish. 'Sorry, I'm not trying to be a nuisance, I swear. Quick question.'
'Of course.'
'I'm sure you're over-qualified and all that ... but can you teach in half a dozen languages at once?'
'Of course he can!' Bruno says. He seems surprised that she would even ask.
'Actually, Prince, I cannot. I'm only human, despite your insistence otherwise.' I nod. 'An excellent question, Elle. I know this class encompasses a wide range of linguistic backgrounds. I also know that expecting all of you to be completely fluent in either Fonseine or Gherman would be unreasonable.'
I can't speak in Fonseine, Gherman, Venetian, English, Yapanese – and Oroszian, if Yulenka ever joins us for our lessons – all at once. But that doesn't mean I can't teach in all those languages at once. It just takes a little extra work.
I gesture to the princes and girls' desks. 'That's why I've taken the time to write up lesson outlines in your respective languages. You'll find them on your desks, and if anyone needs me to repeat something specific in their language, just let me know.'
I hear the rustling of paper and some startled exclamations. Rinako looks emotional, and she has a strange expression on her face. 'Oh my gosh,' Elle says, staring at her lesson outline 'Solana, this is … outstanding. What the hell were you complaining about?!'
Solana winces, and her shoulders slump. 'All right, all right. Had I known that the professor was multilingual, I would have been more quickly convinced that this might actually be viable.'
I try not to laugh. She's exaggerating somewhat. I couldn't deliver an academic lecture in Orosz or Yapanese, so I'm hoping I won't have to. In all honesty, I think this will be worth the girls' time after all. They want to survive in a world of royals and nobles, and what better way to do so than by learning the same information that their charges will – at their charges' side, no less?
Judging by the rapid, flickering thoughts flashing across Solana's face, perhaps she's already coming to that same conclusion. She catches my eye, then looks away. Perhaps she's embarrassed. Our gazes both turn to Adele, who's bouncing up and down and humming excitedly.
She looks up at Solana and grins. 'I can't believe I finally get to attend Professor Heine's classes! You get to study with him for aaages. You're so lucky!'
'Is he a good teacher?' Solana murmurs.
'The bestest!' Adele chirps, and grins break out across the classroom.
I smile. 'Well, at least I have someone who's willing to vouch for my somewhat biased self-introduction. On that note, I think a round of introductions would be helpful. Girls, if you wouldn't mind giving us your name, where you're from, and one thing about yourselves. One at a time, please.'
Adele's little hand shoots up, and I'm reminded that there's one other girl in attendance. After I give her the go-ahead, she says in a sing-song voice, 'I'm Princess Adele, I'm from Glanzreich, and I'm going to marry Professor Heine one day!'
The room goes into an uproar. I have to give up on the bell and crack my teacher's pointer pointer against my palm in an effort to restore order.
'Adele!' Leonhard yells. 'We've been over this! You're not marrying Heine!'
'But I wanna!'
'You're marrying Claude!'
'Who's Claude?'
'You know Claude! On second thought, wait – you're not marrying Claude.'
'She's marrying the tutor?' Chiara says in horror
'Whoo!' Elle half-heartedly waves a fist. 'And I thought the age gap between me and my prince was bad! Good luck, kids!'
'She's not marrying Master!' Bruno snaps.
'I admit that I was confused about this earlier,' Rin says. She looks slightly dazed. 'Being clear, you are not doing the marriage?'
'I – we – are not doing the … marriage, no,' I say, trying to keep a straight face.
'And before I forget, do you deify the palace dog?'
I stare at her. 'Wait. I beg your pardon?!'
'You don't? All right, good Much thanks.'
'Professor Heine …' Adele pleads.
I give her a firm look. 'We have discussed this, Princess. Dismissive answers called me to knighthood only temporarily, remember? You are engaged to someone to Prince Claude.'
'Can't I un-engage myself?'
Licht splutters with laughter. 'Yeah, sure. Just ask Eins and Bruno for some tips.'
Bruno turns white. 'Licht! That was unnecessary!'
'Uh. Oh. Oops. My bad.'
Elle leans forward. 'Prince Bruno, you've already been engaged?'
I crack my pointer against my palm and wince at the pain. 'Boys and girls?'
They quickly shut up, and I make a mental note to allow five extra minutes in each lesson to deal with additional interruptions. You can teach for 15 years and still find yourself on a learning curve, it seems.
'Let us get back to the introductions, shall we?'
I point to Solana. She reddens and stands up with a clatter. 'Uh… hello. I'm Solana. I'm from Fonseine. And I … uh …'
An awkward silence follows.
'… You like macarons?' Leonhard supplies.
She shoots him a dirty look. 'We're not all as food-obsessed as you are, all right?'
She sits down and they glare daggers at each other.
'Hi, I-I'm Chiara. I'm from, u-um… Fonseine too. I, um… I can play the piano, I guess?'
She sits back down, and her face is burning. She seems almost … scared. Bruno places a hand on her shoulder, and they whisper a brief exchange that leaves Bruno looking at his brothers with a furrowed brow. Then he turns back to Chiara and shakes his head. She hesitates, then nods.
Elle stands up, glancing around the room. 'Well, hi. I'm Elle. I'm from good ol' Colombia – the backwater colonial nation that most of you probably haven't heard of. About me, well … Ah. One winter, I had to hunt wild animals for a living because the trains got snowed in, and I couldn't get fabric for my dressmaking business. Good times!' she says brightly and sits back down.
'Okay. I'm Verene. Hi everyone. I'm from Ghermany.' She holds up one of her schedules. 'I'm obsessed with marbled paper, if it weren't obvious enough. That's pretty much it.'
'… I am Rin Kimura. From Yapan. I like tea. Let's get along.
'I'm Daphne Danot. I'm actually from Glanzreich, and …' She gives an embarrassed laugh. 'My fact about myself is that everyone thinks I look like Kai.'
It's so obvious that it's funny, if the subsequentlaughter is anything to go by.
Kai tilts his head, raking one hand through his white hair, staring at her in bewilderment with his blue eyes. 'They do?'
She tips her head, running a hand through her white hair, blue eyes looking back at him in bemusement. 'That's what I've always been told.'
'I can actually see the resemblance,' Licht whispers to Verene, and she nods emphatically.
I raise a finger. 'May I interrupt?' Kai and Daphne turn to me. Seeing them side by side makes their alikeness all the more striking.
I pause, trying to think how to phrase what I want to say. Finally, I give up and say it as it is. 'Forgive me, but … I have noticed that some of you girls bear an incredible resemblance to some of the princes. Is that a coincidence?'
The question causes everyone to turn and examine their partners, turning the room into to a figurative house of mirrors.
Leonhard and Solana's slender build and large eyes. Chiara and Bruno's wavy brown hair and clear skin. Elle and Licht's waist-length blonde tresses. Rin and Adele's doll-like size. Daphne and Kai's bright blue eyes and white hair. Yulenka and Eins, though absent, both have black hair and rigid features.
'It's not a coincidence at all,' Solana says.
I sit back in my chair and the princes look as though they're biting back their own questions. 'Then what is it?'
'I… um.' Solana falters.
'Sometime this year, love,' Verene says.
'I'm trying to think how to phrase it.' Solana rakes her fingers through her tangled mop, then says, 'What do you call it in here? Partisans? Substitute-doubles? Playing doubles?'
The phrase 'playing doubles' rings a bell.
She rubs the back of her neck, forcing out the words. 'The reason that someone is paired with a guard that looks like the principal is so that the guard can take the principal's place if need be in order to protect them.'
'To take their place?'
'Exactly.'
The room explodes into an uproar yet again.
'What the heck are you talking about?!' Leonhard demands. 'We look nothing alike!'
'Give me a wig and one of those jackets, and let's see,' Solana retorts. 'And why didn't you know about this?!'
'We weren't told!'
'But how would you even … How?!' Licht protests.
Solana tries to explain, but then she notices his line of sight. She immediately realises what he's asking. She gasps and crosses her arms over her chest. 'Excuse me?!'
Bruno obligingly hits Licht upside the head with the nearest book to hand. 'Brother, I am ashamed! Thoroughly so!' But upon realising that it's a valid question, his anger fizzles out. 'Ah …'
'Corselettes. Small ones,' Elle says obligingly.
'I did not ask, Miss Elle!'
'You've got to watch out for those psychic harlots, Prince. They tend to pounce when you least expect it.'
Kai just looks confused. He's probably the one I can relate to the most in this situation.
'This is ridiculous!' Leonhard yells. 'Impersonating royals is against the rules! And you wouldn't even be able to –'
'Perhaps we better do something to end all this fuss,' I say, getting out of my chair. 'Doubles have had a valid role in royal politics and espionage over the years, you know. Not to mention that His Majesty must have had some knowledge of this concept when he hired the Chatons. If you're still in denial, Leonhard … then how about Solana shows us what she can do, and we'll see whether she can pass for you or not?'
'Done,' Solana says flatly. 'I only wish that I could make him have to wear a dress when I win.' She confidently strides out of the room, leaving Leonhard to attempt to mentally reconcile 'him' and 'dress'. A moment later, he yells in outrage and sprints after her.
'Well,' I say. The girls and princes glance at one another. '… Do feel free to talk amongst yourselves.'
'Talk amongst yourselves? I didn't think you'd be the type to ascribe to the 'unschooling' theory,' Verene says.
'I don't – far from it. But it seems that we need to sort this out before we proceed, and we can't proceed with missing students.'
While we wait, the girls attempt to explain what double work is to the remaining princes, as well the practical applications of it – balcony appearances during times of political unrest, covering for the fact that a royal has secretly left the palace, and even press appearances, if needed.
'But everyone knows what we look like,' Licht argues. 'We're too recognisable.'
'Not necessarily,' I counter. 'His Majesty did you all a great favour by not permitting your likenesses to be printed on currency or modelled in stonework, and very few paintings have been made of you, either.' I toy with the pen on my desk. 'Besides, a new outfit, a different hairstyle and a pair of glasses can make all the difference.'
Licht gives me a pointed look. I stare back at him, nonplussed.
'But …' Bruno nods slowly, saying, 'We're about to test this theory on family members, are we not? We're going to be able to tell if it is or isn't Leonhard immediately.'
'What's the idea, anyway?' Licht asks. 'Leonhard comes back in and we try to guess if it's really him or not?'
'Enough!'
Leonhard storms back into the room in a fine rage, jaw clenched and eyes sparking with fury.
'Is that really you, Leo?' Licht looks delighted at the chance of some entertainment.
'Of course it's me, you idiot! Damn it, I swear I could strangle you sometimes!' Leonhard gives a hefty sigh, placing his hands on his hips. 'She kept teasing me about dresses, and I wasn't having that, so I decided to come back.'
'Won't that put all her hard work to waste?'
'Getting dressed is not hard work!'
Bruno leans over to Licht, still staring at Leonhard. 'Didn't we once wonder if he could even dress himself if his academic competence was anything to go by?'
Leonhard presses a hand to his chest and grins, 'You underestimate me then, dearest elder brother Bruno!'
'Yeah,' Licht confirms warily. "It bodes ill for him as a human being." I think think that's what I said at the time.'
'What the … Licht! Damn you!'
'Calm down, Leonhard,' Bruno sighs. 'You don't need to yell.'
'All right, maybe not – but I do when it comes to that, that … Solaya girl!' Leonhard points emphatically, nearly burning up with his dislike for his guard.
'Solana …' Elle says dryly.
'She's bossy and rude and arrogant, and not that I care, but she was rude to Heine, and … I guess she can ride a horse,' he admits, but he quickly returns to his main grievance. 'But all that aside – boys do not wear dresses! Gah!' he rants, tugging at his bangs in frustration. 'I hope she falls down the stairs! Or in the fountain! Or something!'
'Leonhard, calm yourself,' Bruno says sternly, getting up from his chair. 'Venting your grievances in private with the rest of us is one thing, but not in the company of guests.'
Leonhard stops. 'Oh.' He stares at Bruno, biting his lip and poking his fingers together. 'Sorry, dearest elder brother Bruno. Are you mad?'
'No, I'm not.' Bruno smiles. 'I think you were mad enough for the both of us.'
'You sure you're not?' Leonhard begs.
'Yes, I'm sure.'
Then Leonhard darts forward and hooks his arms around Bruno's shoulders in a hug.
Bruno's arms hover in surprise, but he smiles and hugs Leonhard back. They fit together perfectly.
I rest my chin in my hand and gaze at them with a half smile. Some things truly never change. But perhaps I need to determine whether Leonhard's animosity is largely directed at Solana or at young women in general … as that could become a problem in the future.
Bruno looks up and freezes. Then he looks down so suddenly that he hits his chin on Leonhard's head. 'Ah!'
I turn to see Leonhard standing in the doorway.
'Dearest brother Bruno?!'
Prince Bruno nigh well stammers in his attempt to reply. 'A-Ah, Leonhard …'
'Do not think badly of yourself, Prince Bruno.' The moment that Solana looks up, her deep amber eyes reveal themselves. Not only did she have to employ dramatics to capture Leonhard's demeanour, but she also had to keep moving so that no one could get a close look at her eyes. 'I've had more than enough time to get familiar with your brother's mannerisms, and I'm an old hand at these show and tells.'
'Oh, it's …' Bruno's eyes widen slightly. Then he blushes bright red. It must have just occurred to him that he's physically entangled with a young woman – not a scenario that he often finds himself in. 'Would you kindly let me go?'
'Oh, is our dear prince shy?' Elle teases.
'I am exhibiting propriety now that I've been made aware of exactly who has foisted his … her … themselves upon me!' Bruno snaps.
'Well, thank you for being a good sport about it, Prince.' Solana lets Bruno go and dusts off her gloves.
'Bruno …' Leonhard sounds heartbroken. 'How could you?'
'S-She did an incredible job, Leonhard,' Bruno confesses. 'I was completely caught off guard – '
'Not that! Give me a hug too! Don't just give one to her!'
'Oh, that,' Bruno sighs, pulling him in for a quick embrace. 'Is that all?'
'And I can't believe you didn't realise it was her, but that's a separate issue,' Leonhard mutters.
'She was hiding her eyes!'
Leonhard lets go and says hotly, 'What do her eyes have to do with it? Everyone knows that girls are squishier – it should have been obvious!'
Licht leans back and puts his feet up on his desk. 'And here I was thinking he'd never grow up.'
Elle buries her head in her arms and proceeds to choke at length.
'I say! How dare you!' Solana protests
'How dare I what?' Leonhard pokes Solana in the shoulder and sighs. 'As I thought. If you really want to pass yourself off as me, then your muscle tone could use some work.'
'Er … wait.' She changes tack and says,' My muscle tone is just fine, thank you – but don't say things that can easily be misconstrued!'
'And another thing!' Leonhard snaps. 'How dare you –'
'Prince?' Solana asks wearily.
'What?'
After staring at him for a moment, Solana finally says, 'How do you find the energy to be so grumpy all the time?'
'Eh?'
'It's exhausting. I impersonated you for a few minutes, and my throat already hurts.'
'Well, if you didn't give me one-hundred-and-one things to be mad about –'
'Don't be stupid.'
The room collectively gasps.
'Try looking on the bright side,' she says before he can yell, and she whispers something in his ear. His eyes widen slightly. Then a gorgeous smile wreaths across his face.
'You should have told me that sooner!' Leonhard says, and hereturns to his seat without another word.
I catch hold of Solana's sleeve as she passes by my desk. 'Wait,' I whisper. 'What did you tell him?
She looks over her shoulder at me. She whispers back. 'That I could take his place in math lessons?'
I give her an unimpressed look.
'I was kidding!
'And he'd likely need to dress up as you for that to succeed –'
'What!?' Leonhard yells, springing out of his chair. 'What was that?'
'All right, kids, the cross-dressing gag is getting kind of old,' a bored-looking Licht says, and he pushes Leonhard back into his seat. 'Let's get this show rolling.'
Solana groans. 'Professor Heine … You just undid all my hard work …'
I raise an eyebrow. 'I don't know. Surely there must be some practical application in relation to both of you getting your hands on extra sweets here, right?'
Leonhard and Solana give each other diabolical grins, and I realise that I may regret making that statement.
'Hey.' Solana places her hands on my desk, her voice low against the background noise of rustling papers and chatter. '… Thank you.'
I look up at her, papers in hand, slightly confused. 'You've already thanked me for teaching you, no?'
'Yes, but …' She reddens. 'Not for putting up with us, I haven't.'
'You're just trying to do your job. However, if you say you're going to study, then I expect you to give your studies equal effort.'
She gives me a two-finger salute and stalks back to her desk, her dark eyes narrowed in concentration as she sits down and reads over the lesson outline.
I get up, taking my teacher's pointer from the desk.
In all honesty? Despite its challenges, I'd still choose to deal with the petty arguments, sibling rivalries and difficult questions, because it means that I have students to teach. It means that I have students that I care about.
It's not my responsibility to keep the princes safe anymore. But if their education is my responsibility – girls and princes alike – then I'll give it everything I have left in me.
No matter the reason, no matter the price.
I tap my pointer against the blackboard and open a book with one hand. 'If you'd like to open your history books? It's time for a lesson.'
I walk between the pools of candlelight, making my way down the dark corridor. On my arm, I have a basket containing a bottle of Niederglanzreich white wine. In my head, I have burning questions. I'm just hoping they'll be answered.
I draw to a halt outside the king's chambers and let the guards know why I'm here. They check the basket, but they don't bother to check me for weapons. What else is new? Either they've been told to trust me, or they still don't think that I could be dangerous.
Some things still haven't changed.
'Your Majesty? You have a guest – the royal tutor?'
A moment later, the guards open the doors for me.
I step inside and wait for the doors to swing shut.
'Is that for me?' Viktor asks.
I shake my head in disapproval and pad across the carpet. 'Yes, against my better judgement.'
He laughs, resting his elbows on his desk. 'My,' he says, as I place the bottle on the desk. 'Where did you get that? The palace cellars?'
'Don't be absurd – I bought it. I would hardly gift you your own wine.'
'Fair enough.'
He reaches into his desk drawer for a corkscrew, and I say, 'Though I'm not sure you deserve it.'
'Oh? And why is that?' He finally retrieves the corkscrew and straightens up. '… Wow, Heine. If looks could kill. I didn't even ask how you convinced the shopkeeper to sell wine to a child this time.'
'You exaggerate. But please stop digging and put that shovel down before I hit you with it.' I press my lips together, watching him take the layers of gold foil off the bottle, wondering what I can say in order to get the answers that I want '… Viktor.'
'Yes?'
'Why didn't you tell me?' I finally ask.
The cork hits the ceiling, which makes the chandelier crystals above our heads tremble. Facets of light dance on our faces.
'Tell you what?'
'… That the princes' new guards were girls. Amongst many other things. The first I heard about it was from reading the dossiers you gave me.'
Viktor doesn't say anything right away. He pours two glasses of wine, trickling the golden liquid down the sides of each glass with an expert hand. 'Does it matter?'
'It doesn't matter if it matters or not.' I sit on the edge of his desk, glaring at him. 'The more important question is… why not tell me what to expect? I'm the one who's going to be teaching them and keeping an eye on them, you know.'
He half-smiles. 'I'm aware. Thank you for taking them on as your students, by the way.'
'That's the other thing. Why have me teach them?'
'Why not?'
'… I admit that it has its practical applications, but there's no real point to it, Viktor.'
'Maybe there is,' Viktor says, and he takes a sip of wine. 'Maybe you just haven't seen it yet.'
'It directly concerns me. Can't you be more forthcoming?'
'You've always been happy for me to keep secrets concerning you before.'
'That was then, and this is now. And we're not talking about that – we're talking about this.' I down my glass in one go and pour myself another. No wonder we became drinking partners. I can't deal with Viktor's nonsense while I'm sober.
Viktor's expression changes, and he sets his glass down. 'Do you trust me?'
'What kind of question is that? I came back to Wienner because you asked me to. I'm trusting you with my life by remaining here.'
'I know. Then will you please believe me when I say that I had good reasons for not telling you? And for not telling the princes either, for that matter.'
'You better have.' I sigh. 'It's just … Sometimes you get these ideas stuck in your head, and they don't … go well. For you or for anyone else.'
'I'm offended,' Viktor says, finishing his glass and pushing it aside. 'And when does that ever happen?'
I raise an eyebrow. 'How about that time you had an image crisis and –'
'All right, all right!' Viktor says hurriedly.
'Or the time you went to Fonseine, but you got on the wrong boat?'
'Heine!' he protests, and I smirk. 'But that's only two instances …'
'You want me to continue?'
'No! No.' Viktor toys with his glass and asks, 'What did you think of them?'
'The girls?' I look at the ceiling – at the light dancing around the chandelier. 'They're very … spirited. And opinionated.'
Viktor raises an eyebrow. 'Can you handle it?'
'Your sons are far more difficult to 'handle' than any girl could ever be,' I mutter, taking a sip from my glass. 'You should have had more daughters.'
Viktor grimaces. 'There's not much I can do about that now.'
'To be fair … It has been a bit of an ordeal. The princes vetted the girls with their usual thoroughness, though with a bit more politeness than they showed me. Just a bit.'
Viktor sighs, and says, 'I wondered if that was going to happen.'
'You gave the princes no warning of what was about to befall them. Of course it was going to happen.'
'Maybe so. But truly,' he says, 'what did you think of them?'
I sit back in my chair. I hesitate. 'They're … sweet girls, at the end of the day. It's strange, but they remind me of the princes. Solana seems to be their leader, in essence, if not in name. She doesn't take anything for granted. I had my work cut out to convince her that it was worth the Chatons' while to let me teach them.'
Viktor coughs.
'Don't you dare laugh.'
'Sorry.'
'Chiara, on the other hand … She seems to have done the impossible and convinced Bruno that this arrangement is worth putting up with, though she seems to be struggling with confidence issues.'
'I see.'
'Is Chiara's family coming to the centennial celebrations?' I ask.
'I've already thought of that. I believe that they are, but unlike some of the other Chatons, Chiara left her family home with few complications. I'll keep an eye on it.'
'Right. Well, Licht and Elle are getting along like a house on fire. Though perhaps you could have a talk with him sometime.'
'Should I be worried?'
'That depends on what you think you should be worried about. I'm worried about Licht's antics distracting the others in class. You're probably worried about his behaviour causing a scene in the public eye. His fun and games are fairly harmless … but the ire of some of the young ladies drew the matter to my attention.'
He sighs, picking up a pen and making a note. 'Right. Continue.'
'Daphne and Kai seem to be amicable. They don't just have similar appearances; they have similar temperaments.'
'No surprise there.'
'And Leonhard and Solana are slowly coming to tolerate each other, but it takes him time to warm up to anyone.' I pause. 'Solana showed up to class today as Prince Leonhard, and his brothers were none the wiser.'
Viktor raises his eyebrows. 'You're kidding.'
'No, I'm not. But you weren't unaware of that little … party trick, were you? You probably had a hand in choosing which girls went with which princes.'
'Good guess.'
I've forgotten one of the girls, and I have to rack my brain. 'Ah. Verene has been following me around to get a grip on the palace layout. She's been helping me clean up my room in exchange for my assistance.' My brow creases. 'You've … conducted thorough background checks on all the girls, haven't you?'
'Yes, why?'
'It's just … She's not a bother, but I can't just let her wander in and out of my room.' I toy with my room key, which hangs on a string around my neck.
'Ah. Do you have anything that you need me to lock in the palace vaults?'
I scoff. 'Don't be absurd.' I hesitate. 'Unless you're thinking of that photograph.'
Viktor says nothing.
'I'll sort it out myself. It's fine.' I clear my throat. 'And … Rin. Or Rinako. Adele is enchanted with her – much to Leonhard's consternation – so you have nothing to worry about there.'
'And what do you think of her?'
I blink. 'Well, she's tremendously polite and well-behaved. Hardly the savage warrior her dossier would have you believe she is.'
Viktor looks down and straightens the medallion and medals on his chest. 'Well, warriors are hardly savage in peacetime, are they?' He looks up again. 'In Yapan, women rarely participate in field combat. They operate in espionage instead. Yet despite that, she's highly trained in Eastern martial arts. I'm thinking of having her train with the soldiers to see if there's anything they can learn from her.'
'Wasn't there also talk of the rest of the girls training with the soldiers, not just Rinako?'
'I imagine it would have come up at some point.'
'Just be aware that your men will make a fuss about it. The girls had a rough time of it getting Maximilian and Ludwig to even let them inside the gates. I had to rescue them yesterday.'
'How the tables have turned …' But Viktor's expression blanks, and he says to himself, 'I thought that those two would have had a bit of a heads-up after what happened in Fleur…'
'When were you in Fleur?'
'Recently. I had to sign a contract with the Chatons at some point, didn't I?'
'Fair enough …' I stop. 'Wait a moment. If all the princes and Adele have new guards, then what extra security do you have for yourself?'
He blinks. 'Eh? I'm going to be guarded by one of the Chatons. Amelie's coming down from Fonseine in the next couple of days once she wraps things up at the agency.'
'Amelie,' I repeat.
'Yes. Amelie. Amelie Seydoux, the Chatons' director. She's going to be my guard.'
'Viktor … I hate to say this … but even I think this sounds like a bad idea, and Lady Beatrix says that I am positively densewhen it comes to women.'
'What's a bad idea?' Viktor. looks genuinely confused.
'Don't make me spell it out – having some random woman on your arm for a whole month is a bad idea. Your insistence on allowing your people to have freedom of speech is going to come back to bite you.'
'Ouch.'
'Yes, ouch.'
'It's work, Heine. It's a business arrangement. You don't need to fret.'
'I do need to fret. Other people may refuse to believe that it's a business arrangement. It wouldn't matter if you had the purest of motives – the tabloids will still be all over you within a week.'
'She's officially coming as a diplomatic guest from Fonseine. If needed, we can claim libel to shut down any speculation.' He takes another sip of wine. He tries to smile. 'You needn't worry. I'm not remarrying or even looking to do so. Any public speculation would fizzle out eventually.'
'No one could blame you, Viktor, if you …'
'… Wanted to move on?'
I bite my tongue. 'I wasn't going to phrase it like that.'
'I know you weren't.' Viktor's smile fades slightly, from colour to sepia. 'Even if I were, I would be marrying a royal or noble from a neighbouring kingdom. The Council of Counts – if not the bounds of society – would see to that. Meaning that even if the tabloids choose to speculate about Amelie and I, then it would be still futile.'
The clock strikes the hour.
'And besides,' he says. 'It's only been three years.'
I say nothing. Then I get up and put a hand on his shoulder. 'I'm sorry. I've been driving you distracted, and didn't even have the tact to be mindful of your feelings.'
'I'm not made of glass, you know.' He winks. 'I seem to recall someone saying that.'
'You said that, but still.' I glance at the empty wine glasses. 'Are you sure you won't tell me what you're scheming?'
'One moment, you're giving me a heartfelt apology, and the next moment, you're checking if you've plied me with enough drink to get some answers?'
'In was you missed it, I was just apologising for my lack of tact, remember? Normally, I'd make more effort, but the night is far from young, and I still have work to do.'
'Sorry. No dice. I'm afraid that I have higher alcohol tolerance than you give me credit for.'
'That is not something to brag about,' I sigh, taking my empty basket and taking my leave. 'Good night, Viktor.'
'Sweet dreams.'
'I'd say the same, but you don't deserve them,' I retort.
He laughs and drops the corkscrew back into its drawer. He goes back to his work, giving me a smile and a small wave, with his pen already in his hand.
I open the door, but then Viktor says, 'Oh, wait,' pulling me back as though yanking on invisible puppet strings. I give him a cross look. 'What did you think of Yulenka?' he asks.
I have to search my short-term memory for which girl that is. Ah, Yulenka – a tall young woman with dark hair swept up into a bun, sculpted cheekbones and a ballet dancer's gait.
My hand tightens on the doorframe. I took it upon myself to give her a warning to her as she departed for Schwarz. She seemed to be discerning … but when it came to Count Rosenberg and Prince Eins, I couldn't let her go into the lion's den without a word of advice.
If those two are dangerous enough that I can't even bring my concerns about them to Viktor … then why would I not fear for her safety?
I gather my thoughts and answer Viktor's question. 'She seemed to be a very mature and responsible young lady. No doubt she'll be of help to Prince Eins. But surely he can manage his own security, no?'
Viktor looks away, and I realise I may have hit a nerve. 'No doubt, yes. But sometimes, I get the feeling that I've never … done enough for Eins. I want to protect him, even if he doesn't need or want it. And it's either that …' He looks at me, reading my mind. 'Either that or Count Rosenberg takes Eins' safety upon himself. And if anything happens to Ernst, I don't think Eins is going to take it well.'
'No. Certainly not.'
'And if nothing else, I know all too well what it feels like to nearly lose someone you care about.' He lowers his gaze. 'How are those wounds healing?'
'You can't call them wounds anymore – they're scars. And you don't need to worry.' The irony of my phrasing strikes me, and my laugh has a bitter note. 'Especially not about my safety, given that we have an army of dangerous young ladies guarding us at every moment.' I glance at him. 'And no matter how outlandish or foolhardy I may find your decision-making processes, I know that – if nothing else – you went to all this effort both for the princes' sakes andmine. So thank you.'
I slip out of the room before he can reply, and I walk off.
I did not get any answers at all. If anything, I only got a headache.
I'm sure that Viktor has his reasons, whatever they are. But if there's some lesson to be learned from all of this … My job is only to teach, not to learn. And how can I either teach or learn a lesson if I don't even know what that lesson is?
Chapter 13: The Kittens Go to Town: Part 1
Chapter Text
~ Solana ~
… Talk about hands-on learning.
I step onto the Bay of Biscay, pointing at the illustration of Fonseine on the world map that sprawls the length of the second common sitting room. Because we clearly need at least three common sitting rooms. To be fair, we actually do, or we'd have to remove all the desks and chairs from one room in order to spread out the map. That would be a pain even with Leonhard and Kai's help.
'The Fonseine Revolution occurred 100 years ago, but defying all odds and the staggering fatality rates,' I say, 'some Fonseinais royals actually survived. Some say that they hijacked the rebel movements working against them to regain control of the country. Either way, they pledged to reform the monarchy and implement new governmental systems to protect the people.' I grimace, tracing routes over the country with one foot. 'Though it didn't prevent the whole mess with Napoleon from happening. That took a while to clean up –'
'Darling, we've got to work on your delivery,' Licht says.
I turn to face him. 'It was accurate! Concise!'
'And lacking in emotion,' Licht says, taking my hand and spinning me about the Western Continent, much to Bruno's consternation. 'Come on! Body language! Eye contact!'
'Dance moves?!' I yelp, skidding over the map as I try to keep my balance.
'Sure, why not! So once more, with feeling!'
'Licht!' Bruno snaps. 'This is a hand-lettered map painted on seventeenth-century parchment – stop dancing on it!'
'Spoilsport!' Licht yells back with a light-hearted laugh. He sets me down somewhere in the snowy wastelands of Orosz – a ghastly place, according to Yulenka. 'There we go. With flair, darling. I'm sure you've got it in you somewhere.'
'Gee, thanks.'
I turn to Professor Heine – anything to escape from the youngest prince's clutches. 'Professor?'
He nods. 'Very good. Concise and accurate, subjective assessment of flair aside. Licht, however, could do with less flair and more accuracy.'
'I can only retell Dad's military exploits so many different ways before having to dress it up a bit. Give me a break!'
Truly hands-on learning. Though I suppose we can be glad it's peacetime and that we don't have to accompany the king on one of his military ventures for a field trip.
I step off the map as Elle wanders around, looking for Colombia. After a moment, she realises her home country takes up such a huge chunk of the map that she's already standing on it.
Yesterday, we built on our self-introductions and discussed career ambitions. Despite our shared goals, the members of the Chatons still have ambitions other than merely getting rich and famous. We all used to work other jobs. Before we joined the Chatons, we all had to earn a living, and now we often use those same jobs as cover. I worked as a barmaid, Elle was a tailor and Verene was going to be a pianist, to name a few.
Even though their shared primary goal is the same – to become king – the princes still have their own personal ambitions too. Bruno says that he might pursue the path of a scholar at some point in time. Kai says he's thinking of joining the military. However, Licht says that he wants to run a coffee shop on the side, so the validity of their aspirations is somewhat questionable. And don't start me on Leonhard – he wants to become king because he wants to become king. It's not even noon, and I already have a headache.
Today, we've moved on from our personal goals and are discussing the history of our home countries. Professor Heine stressed that we should try to keep our contributions short, and despite frequent tangents, I'm still wondering how we're going to occupy ourselves for the rest of the day.
'Africa is a continent, not a country,' Heine says, correcting one of the girls. 'No doubt it would be more convenient for geography students if it were a country, but it's not.'
'What's this odd-shaped bit over here?'
Heine looks over at where Chiara is pointing. He adjusts his glasses. 'That … is … Van Diemen's land. Last I heard, it was a convict settlement belonging to the Briton Empire.'
Everyone edges away from that part of the map. 'A whole country full of bad guys?' Leonhard squeaks, looking highly disturbed. 'Whose idea was that?!'
Heine grabs a textbook and rapidly flicks through it.'Correction,' he says. 'I think they've done away with the whole "convict settlement" aspect by now.' He claps the textbook shut and puts it down. 'But we're getting off track. As far as I'm aware, none of you hail from Van Diemen's land.'
'Praise be,' Verene says, and her voice drips with sarcasm.
Heine ignores her. 'On to more important matters. Despite the fact that I seem to have dragged you all back to school against your will …' This prompts a chorus of agreement from both girls and princes, much to Heine's exasperation. '… Please don't think I'm not aware that you are still here to work.'
Heine steps towards one of the windows, reaching for the curtains. Licht suddenly hisses in my ear, 'Cover your eyes –'
'What?'
Heine snaps the curtains open, completely blinding us. The shutters fly open and the harsh winds whirl around us, ruffling our clothes and the edges of the map that we're standing on.
I hear princes' complaints of déjà vu fade away, and I lift my head to stare. I swallow, ignoring the complaints, the wind and the noise.
The ticking of the grandfather clock behind me fades away, and time ticks back to a twilight evening in the back of a bar in Southern Fonseine.
Photographs plastered the walls like peeling wallpaper, stained with water rings and coffee and tears. Black and white, bleeding sepia. I stared, drinking in drops of other countries, occasionally kicking away other patrons of the bar who stumbled too close for comfort, twining my feet back around the legs of my stool once I did.
Elle slid her tankard back over the counter and looked up. 'Travel envy?'
I ignored her and held up a hand to the bartender. 'No more for her.'
'Aw, boo,' she muttered. Her drawl was blurrier than some of the photographs.
Her complaints faded as a photograph soaked into my vision. It was of a city where the roofs looked like glittering chocolate bars arranged in a radial grid. When the bartender turned his back, I hopped up on the counter and lifted the photograph, searching the back of it for a location.
Elle seized the moment and refilled her drink. 'Get your boots off there.'
'Get your hands out of there.'
The handwriting was faded.
This city is sparkling with colour.
'Glanzreich,' I murmur.
I press my hands to the window frame, standing by Professor Heine's side. My flesh pricks, and I shiver. Seeing the view in person feels like a lucid dream.
'I am under no false impressions,' Heine says. 'If you are to be the princes' guards, then you must know the lay of the land as well as the layout of the palace. You will be no good to anyone if you have to ask for directions before you can come to someone's assistance – '
'Field trip!' Licht whoops.
'Field trip?' I ask
Heine gives the youngest prince a filthy glare. 'If you're going to interrupt, at least raise your hand.'
But everyone has already gotten the hint, and we can't even hear him over the din of excited voices. Finally, Heine raises his voice and says, 'If you would go and change into suitable attire and then meet down at the carriage stop–
'We get it, we get it! Wardrobe change, let's go!'
And we all clear out of the room faster than if the bells had tolled for a national emergency.
'Why the long face, Solana?' Elle teases as we take the stairs two at a time. 'You like spending an exorbitant amount on coffee and paper goods as much as the next person.'
I grimace and shake my head. 'It's not that. It's that these things always turn into such a drag … someone gets lost, someone spends too much, someone gets hit by a pickpocket, then we all get arrested for beating up on the pickpocket, and –'
I bump into Leonhard, who looks back with a frown. 'Oi! We didn't beat him up, at least!'
I realise that my words stopped all the princes in their tracks on the staircase. I give Elle a knowing look. Her grin fades just a little.
'Besides, give us a break,' Licht grumbles and dashes up the steps. 'I had no idea how to budget then –'
'I had no idea you knew how to budget now!' Bruno retorts, but the bells toll the hour, cueing the rest of us to continue our sprint up the stairs.
'So yes, excuse my trepidation, Elle,' I say pointedly.
'At least we know that if one of the princes gets into trouble, then they'll cause such a scene that it will be impossible for us to lose sight of them. Right?'
'What are you talking about? Princes sparkle when exposed to sunlight. Everyone knows that. They'll be impossible to miss.'
'I thought that was vampires – like Dracula.'
'Dracula does not sparkle,' Chiara scolds, always willing to stick her neck out for the sake of literary accuracy.
Bruno glances over his shoulder. 'And neither do princes, we'll have you know!'
'Yes, yes, Braniac Prince …' I mutter.
'What was that?!'
'Nothing,' I say and dash down the hall.
I descend the outer staircase, noting that the palace carriage stop is mostly deserted. Either I'm early, or the others are late. Prince Bruno, Verene, and Heine are already here, but that's about it.
I join them, and the door behind slams open hard enough to come off its hinges. Leonhard clears the steps in one jump and draws to a halt at my side. He looks me up and down in one glance. I stiffen, unconsciously holding my breath. Elle solidly told me off for planning to wear my usual black 'spinster' gown, so I strapped myself into a silver dress from the bottom of my trunk and decided to risk wearing heels. Leonhard eyes the dress, but he ignores me anyway.
I narrow my eyes. 'Hello to you too. No comment?'
'Comment on what?' he retorts.
I cross my bare arms and snap a folding fan against my upper arm. 'You could at least lie through your teeth and give me a generic compliment, Prince.'
'Why should I?'
'I'm your companion. It's bare courtesy.'
Leonhard exhales through his teeth. 'You're such a pain in the ass.'
'Compliment fishing aside,' Bruno says, giving me a disdainful look. 'She is correct, Leonhard.'
'What?'
'Did you forget our etiquette lesson from Master?'
Heine flinches. 'Let's not bring that up again, thank you.'
'That's not even the same thing!' Leonhard yells.
'Is she not a girl?' Bruno fires back.
'She, she, she …' Leonhard points a finger in my face. 'She's some kind of fiendish demi-human hybrid. I don't even know if she's really a girl to begin with!' He whirls to face me. 'What are you, anyway?'
'That's the antithesis of a compliment. And what kind of question is that?'
'If I keep having to say "déjà vu", then the phrase is going to lose all meaning.' Licht joins me, standing by my side. He looks completely different, with his hair braided over one shoulder. A glimmering cameo pin dusts his tailcoat with refracted light. Add a pair of glasses, and he'd be a completely different person.
Elle is with him, and Verene leans against the carriage window and gives them a lazy salute. 'You two look ridiculously good together, by the way.'
'Don't worry, we know,' Elle says.
Bruno glares at Verene. 'Must you really encourage them, Fräulein Pussler?'
'What? It's science. Beauty and good looks are exponential. Everyone knows that.'
I raise my eyes to the staircase. If the princes and their escorts are anything to go by, then they would serve as proof of Verene's hypothesis. Their presence alone has turned an abandoned staircase into what feels like the entrance to a gala event. Two gleaming carriages await our large group.
'They clean up nice, don't they?' Elle says to me.
'Yes, we do.'
'I meant the boys, idiot.'
'I know. I was trying to pretend like you weren't being crass.'
I take a seat in one of the carriages, and Professor Heine steps inside as well. 'You're coming with us, Professor?'
'Well, it is technically a "field trip",' he says, looking over his shoulder at Licht. He takes a seat opposite me and digs the tips of his boots in so he doesn't slip off the leather seat. It must be such a hassle to be short. 'So, yes, I will be joining you.'
''Scuse us!' Licht throws himself down beside me and I stiffen. 'What's that look on your face for, darling?' he asks.
'You're far too close.'
'Oh?' He leans in closer, arches a brow and smiles. 'Is someone getting all hot and bothered – '
Elle sits beside Heine and leans back in her seat with a yawn. 'I thought I was meant to be your number one at the moment, Prince.'
'Geh…' Licht reluctantly sits back, and I breathe a sigh of relief. We haven't started moving yet, and I was already tempted to kick him out of the carriage. It's too early for this. 'But –'
'Move, Licht!' Licht sits right back, and Leonhard dives into the carriage. He stops at the sight of me, then reluctantly takes a seat beside the professor.
'Are we good? Okay, we're good!' Verene vaults into the carriage, landing in her seat, and brings her high-heeled boots down with a crack. She knocks one hand on the ceiling of the carriage, signalling the driver. 'Let's get this show on the road!'
The carriage jolts and the velvet curtains brush against the windows. I immediately lean forward to get a better look out the window. Glanzreich. High-maintenance companions aside, I'm fizzing over with excitement.
The city, the lights, the sights, the sounds, the –
'Stop leaning on me,' Elle grumbles. 'What are you? Five?'
'Oh, shut up.'
'Wienner is the capital city of Glanzreich,' Professor Heine says. 'In the 1860s, during the kingdom's economic crisis, His Majesty's father knocked down the fortifications in the city centre and built a radial ring road – the Ringstrasse. The city is home to over 1.3 million people. What I'm trying to say is … please don't get yourself lost.'
I stare at him, and say, 'His Majesty's father? The former king? ' I fish for a pencil in the depth of my pocket so that I can take notes.
'Whoa, way to fly the flag, history buff!' Verene says
I grit my teeth. 'Verene? Keep it to yourself.'
'No.' Professor Heine clears his throat. 'The former king was His Majesty's uncle, Ferdinand von Glanzreich.'
The carriage goes dead silent.
'I'm sorry, what?'
Licht laughs awkwardly. 'Hoo boy. Let's not start on that one. It takes the better part of the day to explain, and I'm not too hot on the details. Bruno knows the story better than I do, but he's in the other carriage.'
The conversation drifts to some of the highlights of the Ringstrauss – the city hall, the opera house and some hole-in-the-wall kasekrainer cart – but I'm still scraping one fingernail down my pencil.
Glanzreich's line of succession isn't the mystery that I'm trying to unravel, but a good mystery always grabs me all the same.
Why did the line of succession skip over Viktor von Glanzreich's father? More to the point, why wasn't Viktor's father the previous king?
Glanzreich made its first major appearance in the night sky of history as a bloody firework in the mid-1860s, when Viktor von Glanzreich took the throne and wreaked havoc across the Western Continent. He was a literal conqueror, and every country bore his mark by the end of his rampage, one way or another. You could say he burned so bright that it all but overshadowed not only the deeds but also the very names of his predecessors.
I stare at Heine, wondering if he could break down the events in order to provide some real answers. But he notices my curious look, and a shadow passes over his face. I awkwardly turn away.
Get a hold of yourself, Solana. You only want to dig up the past insofar as it helps your own cause. Unnecessary meddling would be the fastest way to tip someone off to the fact that you're up to something.
'Herr Wittgenstein?' the coachman says. His voice is muffled through the wood, glass and velvet of the carriage. 'We'll be arriving momentarily.'
'Thank you.'
The carriages draw to a halt, and we spill out onto the cobblestones – or jump out, in the more energetic party members' cases.
The wind stirs the water of a sculpted marble fountain into a mist, and it glitters, rainbow-like, and I gasp. It's like a city of diamonds, filled with people of every colour and stripe. Buildings tower over us, bent by perspective – like an elaborate children's pop-up book – hand-crafted and chiselled from stone and marble.
I cover my mouth and stifle a squeal of delight.
Leonhard gives me a disturbed look. 'Get a hold of yourself. You sound like my little sister.'
'And you sound like a …' But I can't be bothered. I'm finally here, and I'm not going to to waste a moment of my time bickering with him.
I nearly step right into the crowd, but the invisible hand of reason yanks me back. I was about to leave my charge to his own devices. What was I thinking? My excitement got the better of me, and I pale, clamping down on my enthusiasm.
Our collective group gathers at the entrance of one of the laneways connected to the Ringstrass. Having done a quick head count, Professor Heine says, 'It seems that we've all arrived without incident –'
'Подожди! Wait!'
I whirl around. 'Yulenka?!'
She and her companion make their way over. Her hair is coiffed, a choker adorns her neck, and her dress is one that I haven't seen in years, adorned with metallic embroidery.
'Wait … Eins?!' Leonhard shrieks.
My jaw drops – for with her is none other than the crown prince of Glanzreich.
I don't know what's more alarming – the fact that he's here or the fact that she was able to convince him to come.
'Show some respect, Leonhard,' Eins mutters. I notice that Yulenka has her gloved fingers in the crook of Eins' elbow as though he might escape at any moment.
Licht looks behind Eins, then narrows his eyes at the crown prince. 'Where's your white lapdog?'
'And where's Count Rosenberg?' Leonhard asks. 'Wait. Since when did elder brother Eins have a dog?'
'Ernst chose to remain at Schwarz to do some administrative work.' Eins affords us a faint, albeit bitter smile. 'If he'd known that he'd have the opportunity to torment all of you at once, then no doubt he would have been begging for an invitation.' The prince casts a sharp look over our outfits and our surroundings, then says, 'Speaking of invitations … To whom do I owe the pleasure of being here?'
'Oh, that!' Verene laughs, and says, 'I did.'
Yulenka suddenly tightens her grip on Eins' arm. If it weren't for her, then I think the crown prince may have reduced Verene to a pile of bloody emerald ribbons on the spot. 'I beg your pardon?' Eins snarls. 'I was under the impression that this was an invitation issued on behalf of the royal family.'
'Your Highness,' Yulenka murmurs. 'Calm yourself.'
'I'm perfectly calm.' Eins singles out Professor Heine and narrows his eyes. 'Professor?'
Heine looks as though he was run over by one of the carriages that dropped us off. 'Your Highness … I had no idea …'
'Ignorance is not a defence, Professor. You should know that.'
Verene's trademark smile is fading by the second. 'Prince Eins, Yulenka is one of the Chatons. I thought that you would both benefit from the excursion, so I issued an invitation to Schwarz –'
Eins turns and begins to walk away. 'Miss Motkovic, we're going.'
Yulenka digs her heels into the cobblestones, forcing him to halt. 'You don't think I should at least have a grasp of the city, Your Highness?'
'No.'
Licht laughs. The edges of his teeth show, sharp and white. 'Of course not. Why would she need to? It's not like you ever leave the palace, let alone your room. '
'Licht?' Eins shrugs off Yulenka's arm and stares his youngest brother down. 'What was that?'
Licht's flinches, but he doesn't step back. His voice shakes slightly, and he says, 'Are you coming or not?'
'Not.' Eins exhales forcefully. 'But I have other business in the area, and I would prefer Miss Motkovic not to fall down the nearest manhole if she ever has occasion to venture into town, so … I suppose we can stay for a short while.'
Professor Heine still looks pale. 'Well then, now for your assignment. Your Highnesses, and, er …' He hesitates. 'Prince Eins … You all no doubt know your way around Wienner well enough by now. Your task is to find out what your companion's favourite thing is and then locate that thing in the city. If possible, the other part of your task is to also buy that thing for them as a gift to welcome them to the palace.'
'Er … what?!'
'How generous of you,' Elle quips.
'Heine, this is ridiculous!' Licht protests. 'We don't have any money, for one!'
I stare at him. 'What? You're the princes of the damn kingdom, yet you don't have any money?'
'Oh, that's not what I meant …' Licht covers his eyes with one hand. 'I have my own money for discretionary spending – and so does Eins, for that matter – but the rest of my brothers do not.'
'That's right.' Leonhard says. 'How are we going to –'
'Quit your whining,' Heine orders. 'Catch.'
He tosses a few small purses in our direction. Thanks to our honed reflexes, each of us girls snatches them before the princes can even blink, then we hand them over to our respective charges.
'Courtesy of the queen mother. Don't spend it all in one place.'
'Master.' Bruno adjusts his glasses and says, 'As much as I can see that this would be an easy way to help our companions explore key areas of the city and get to know each other … this is rather frivolous, is it not?'
'He's preaching to the choir,' Eins mutters. Yulenka looks at him sidelong and stifles a sigh.
'And whatever we're paying our guards is worth far more than whatever trinkets we might get for them.' Leonhard adds. 'So what's the point?'
The girls flinch, and the other princes cringe.
Heine shrugs. 'That's the thing. You're not paying them. Your father is.'
As dense as Leonhard can be, I see guilt briefly flash across his face.
'His Majesty is the one paying them,' Heine continues, 'yet the Chatons will be going far, far out of their way to look out for you for a whole month. The least you can do is get to know them better and express your appreciation, whether in a tangible or intangible form.'
My eyes widen. For all his stoicism, I keep being surprised by Heine's thoughtfulness. One can only hope that it will eventually rub off on the princes.
Elle leans down and whispers to me, 'I think I just started crushing on the tutor a little bit.'
'Hey,' Licht chides, 'If anyone's going to be crushing on anyone around here, it's going to be on me, all right?'
Leonhard gives Heine a conflicted look. 'Well … what if it sounds like a hassle and we just don't want to?'
'Can someone tell the devil that his advocate is just being straight-up annoying now?' Chiara whispers.
Heine pushes his glasses up. His eyes glint. 'That's fine. But do you really want to get a failing grade?'
Chapter 14: The Kittens Go to Town: Part 2
Chapter Text
~ Solana ~
'What?' I ask. 'Come again?'
'Do you really want to get a failing grade?' Heine repeats. 'You're not leaving the city until you complete your assignment. And if you're forced to buy a hotel room and stay the night in the city, then you won't be able to buy your gift, and will be an automatic fail – '
'What?!'
'Well when you put it like that …' Licht grabs Elle's hand and says, 'Come on, Elle, no time like the present! Let's get this party started!'
'All right!'
'Spare me,' Eins says under his breath, but the sound of a dozen girls and princes scattering across the Ringstrasse drowns out his complaint.
Leonhard and I need to get going as well, but the person I want to speak to right now is Yulenka. I run up to her and hug her, using it as an excuse to seperate her from Eins, even if only briefly. 'How are you finding things?'
All the things I can't say aloud swirl in my head. Is the prince treating you well? Are you okay? What about the high-steward? Do you need us to come and break you out?
She half-smiles. 'Things are fine. Schwarz is quite the palace, I must admit.'
'Things have been quite lively,' Eins mutters. 'She and my high steward are already at each other's throats.' He glares darkly at me. 'Are all of you this precocious?'
'We …' The words wilt on my lips. 'We all have our own distinct personalities.'
He scoffs. 'Right. Sure.'
Leonhard tugs on my sleeve. 'Solana? We've got to get a move on. Let's go!'
I stare into Yulenka's eyes, looking for any signs that I may have missed, but she gently disengages my hands and returns to her prince's side. She seems to be all right … and I can only hope that she would would find a way to tell us if she weren't.
'Solana!'
I spin on my heel and snap at Leonhard. 'What?'
Leonhard looks as though I just bit him. 'Um …' A lengthy silence. 'What's your favourite thing?'
'Eh?'
'Whoa!' Verene shouts. 'Is that against the rules?'
'What rules?' Heine says, snapping his pocket watch shut. 'But no, asking direct questions isn't prohibited. If anything, this exercise is meant to promote communication. If nothing else, it's better than blindly trying to guess what the other person might be thinking, no?'
'I guess,' Verene says. 'Anyway, Professor, what's the nightlife like around here?'
'I … couldn't tell you.'
'Come on, surely you'd know where all the action is! You're a commoner – a man of the people!'
Heine shakes his head. 'Are you aware of my height? I can barely get into bars at the best of times.' The two of them stroll off, leaving me alone. Even Yulenka and Eins have disappeared by now..
Leonhard shakes my shoulder. 'Solana?'
Not quite alone, actually. I roll my eyes and turn back to him. 'What is it?'
His expression twists. 'What's your favourite thing?'
'Oh.' I pause and give it some thought. '… I don't have a favourite thing.'
'Huh?'
'Well come on, what about you?'
'Cake,' he fires back. 'Or fencing. It's not that hard.'
I wince, suddenly feeling as though I've failed on some major level. 'Indeed.' I begin to withdraw into myself. Can't I think of anything that I like? I like coffee, but everyone does. I like shoes, but most girls do.
I don't have a favourite thing – I have a terrible, painful, infuriating, messy thing that drives me to tear apart everything between me and it – between me and him – but that's a different type of thing altogether.
I shrug. 'I really don't have a favourite thing.'
After a moment, Leonhard tears at his hair. 'Why'd I have to get stuck with you? I bet all the other girls have favourite things like kittens and dresses and all that garbage! Gah!'
'Sorry to disappoint.' I hold out a hand and sigh. 'Let's wander around. I'll let you know as soon as I see something I "like", and then we can get the hell out of here.'
Leonhard shivers, even though the wind isn't cold. 'Is wandering around really necessary?'
'Pardon?'
'Wandering around with all these commoners … Ugh, it's enough to make me feel ill.'
'Are you really that pathetic?'
Sparks snap in his eyes, and he retorts, 'Everyone knows that the commoners are just waiting to rise up and overthrow the monarchy via the guillotine! It's obvious!'
It takes me a long time to figure out how to reply to that. 'Prince… I'm a commoner. I'm even from the land of the guillotine – and I haven't tried to cut your head off, have I?'
Leonhard stares at me. 'Well, no.'
'So maybe we're not all that bad.' I offer him my arm. 'Give it a shot, at least.'
He reluctantly slips his arm through mine. 'Try not to touch me if you can help it.'
'Does that professor of yours ever give you etiquette classes?'
'Once.' I turn to see Heine standing at the entrance to a paper shop. The bells chime above the half-open door to the establishment. 'I gave them one etiquette class, and it was so traumatic that I struck the entire subject from the curriculum.' The two of them head inside the shop.
A moment later, I hear a shriek from Verene. '16th century marbled paper!'
'Charming, but perhaps you should lower your voice for the sake of the other patrons.'
'Oh, sorry.'
Leonhard begins to tap his foot on the cobblestones. 'I suppose you don't happen to like paper as well?'
'No. Let's look at it this way,' I say, tugging him forward. ;We don't want to be stranded in the city together, so let's make the best of it and try to discern my hitherto undiscovered preferences.'
'Fine. Oh!' Leonhard yanks me across the street –across the path of a carriage – and places me in front of the glass window of a cafe. The movement startles a few of the patrons. 'What about macarons?'
'…No, sorry. I like macarons, but that doesn't mean that it's my favourite thing.'
He groans. 'Ugh. Fine. What's that other thing you said you liked?'
'Parkour. And I said I could doit, but it's not my favourite thing.' We leave the cafe and continue down the street. 'Besides, parkour is an intangible thing. The only way you could "buy" it for me is by signing us up for parkour classes, and it's not something you take classes for in the first place –'
'All right, all right, all right! You're so noisy!'
'You're the noisy one – oh look, there's Bruno and Chiara.'
We peer into the window of a bookshop. Bruno is showing Chiara so many different books that I can see printed words swirling in her eyes. Finally, he hands her a book called The Master and Apprentice Relationship, and she slowly nods. She plunks down in a seat to begin looking through it, but a moment later, she sneaks a volume of Emily Dickinson's poetry off the shelf and hides it beneath the hefty tome given to her by the prince.
I sigh. It looks as though they've learned what the prince's favourite thing is, not necessarily hers.
'Do you like books?' Leonhard says hopefully.
'I'm not especially passionate about reading. Besides – you have the Prunksaal. Why would you want to buy any more books?'
'Well, they wouldn't be for me in this case, would they? And what about dearest elder brother Bruno, then?'
'He's a scholar. He's got a legitimate reason to have a large personal library.'
We keep walking. It's hard to miss Elle and Licht, with their vibrant hair and larger than life personalities. They're sitting down at another boutique cafe, drinking coffee and laughing over some shared joke. Not bad, I must admit. I forgot that you can also buy experiences, even though it's more of a challenge
'Coffee?' Leonhard asks
'Yes. I mean … no. It's not my favourite thing in the whole entire world, but we could fall back on it if we have to –'
'Well, I hate coffee, so I'm not buying it for you.'
'… Well then.'
Kai and Daphne are inside a clothing store, and Daphne is dressed to the nines in a fluffy scarf, hat and mittens. She's laughing. It's a sound that I haven't heard in a long time. Even Prince Kai is smiling. Who cares if it's summer, as long as they're having fun?
'Ah, um … Clothes?'
'No. Sorry.'
'You were fussing over your clothes earlier.'
'Fussing does not equate to favourite, Prince.'
I nearly forgot about Rin and Adele, to be honest. Rin must have kept to the shadows this whole time, keeping Adele close beside her. The two of them are in a toy store. Adele is clutching a doll and a teddy. She seems to be asking for Rin's opinion. Rin catches my eye and gives me an exaggerated thumbs-up. I nod, trying not to smile.
'What about – '
'Don't even start, Prince, I'm too old for dolls.'
We even catch sight of Prince Eins and Yulenka. She's dragged him into a cosmetics store, of all places. She seems to be explaining the benefits of a specific makeup product to the thoroughly unenthused crown prince.
Leonhard and I both draw to a halt. 'What on earth is is eldest brother Eins doing?' Leonhard asks.
Eins says something to Yulenka. In exasperation, she swipes a swathe of eyeliner onto each of her eyes and frowns. I suddenly realise that she's impersonating Eins, and I turn away, struggling not to laugh.
'Makeup?'
I gasp for breath. 'No. Sorry, no.'
'Damn it,' Leonhard mutters, although he does appear amused by Yulenka's performance.
We reach the end of the street. My breathing is still irregular, and Leonhard glances at me. He purses his lips. 'What about the theatre?'
'What?'
'You like to laugh, don't you? Even though you don't do it very often.'
It makes me stop and look at him. 'I guess, but … I'm not really into theatre, and the tickets aren't cheap.' I sigh. 'Come on. Let's grab a coffee, if you can suffer yourself to do so. Make sure we get the receipt so we can be graded.'
'Fine.'
We backtrack the other way, and I briefly forget about the frustration of the assignment as the photographs I've adored for so long come to life all around me. The whole city is gorgeous – the glimmering quartz in the cobblestones, the sheen of the gas streetlights, the ornate displays in the windows and the first glimmer of stars in the dusky sky.
'Hey.' Leonhard has his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders are slumped, but he raises his eyes to me and points down the street. 'Have you had kasekrainer before?'
'Kase … krainer? Is this the hole-in-the-wall joint that you were talking about in the carriage?'
He frowns. 'It's not in a hole in the wall – it's a cart.'
'Yes, well … so?'
'Do you want to try one?'
'I mean, well … I guess?' I say weakly. 'You've probably got a couple grand in that purse. Who am I to tell you how to spend it?'
He wrinkles his nose. 'We only have kreuzer and florins here. What's a grand?'
'Maybe I should hold onto that purse for you. Just in case.'
'Do you want one or not?'
I give him an exasperated look.
He reddens slightly. 'It's just that, well … maybe it'll be your new favourite thing. You never know.'
'W-well then. All right.'
Looking relieved, he tugs me across the plaza. 'Wait here. I'll go order for us.'
'Sure, whatever.' I sit on the edge of the fountain and watch some children playing with rowing hoops and wooden tops. I crack a smile. There's even a man with a piano accordion playing some folk music for pocket change.
I confess that food wasn't very high on my list of research priorities when it came to finding out everything I could about Glanzreich. Maybe it should have been higher, but I guess we'll find out.
After an unnecessarily long wait, Leonhard crosses the plaza and sits beside me on the fountain's edge. He hands me a steaming hot package. 'Here.'
'Thanks. That took you a while, no?'
He blushes and says, 'Oh, shut up. I've never ordered food from somewhere before. Give me a break.'
I freeze mid-bite, and I'm forced to talk around the food. 'Are you serious?'
'Yeah? Why?'
'Oh, well. Thanks, then.'
'Whatever.'
'So what is this, then?'
He takes a bite. 'Kasekrainer? I told you before.'
'Chew, then talk. Don't do both at once.
'You're one to talk.'
'Shut up.'
'You shut up.'
'So,' I say. 'Kase … krainer … cheese … sausage?'
'More or less.'
I take a bite too. It's hot, sour and salty. 'Mm.'
'I guess it would be too easy if this were your favourite thing, huh?' Leonhard murmurs.
'Maybe.' I hesitate. 'Maybe I need to try harder to find out what I even really … like. I'm probably going to mess up your grade for this assignment. I'm sorry.'
'My grades are awful anyway.' Leonhard shoves another bite in his mouth and sighs.
I look up. 'Hey. You know what my favourite thing might be?'
'What?'
I get up and trace the skyline of our little corner of the world with my fingertip. Sunlight burns at the edges of the buildings. 'For a long time, all I wanted was to come to Glanzreich. It meant so much to me. I would love to see the city – and I mean really see it. It might even be my favourite thing – coming here getting to experience it Glanzreich for myself'
Leonhard falters. 'That's not something that I can buy for you, though.'
I reluctantly lower my hand. 'I know. It may not even get us a passing grade, but it would still mean the world to me.'
'I don't want to get stuck in the city with you just because we failed our task.' But even as he says the words, I can see him weighing up the surrounding roads. The stars in the sky and the sparks coming from the cart behind us make his eyes glow.
'You won't have to.' I neatly fold the wrapper from my kasekrainer and hand it to him.'
'I don't want your garbage …'
'Proof of purchase, silly. Now, are you going to show me your kingdom or not, Prince?'
He places a hand on his hip. 'Well, when you put it like that … You better be able to keep up!'
'I don't know if you're as fast as you think you are –' He pulls me away so fast that my feet leave the ground and I scream, holding on for dear life.
'Come on! We've only got an hour, so let's go!'
'How are we meant to see the sights if we're going too fast to see anything at all?!' Prince, slow down!'
After a whirlwind tour, we walk back towards the carriage. We're dusty and spattered with fountain water, the sun is setting, and my ankles hurt, but I couldn't care less. 'What year was the Ringstrasse built? The exact year? And if porcelain really is one of Glanzreich's leading exports, then why haven't I heard more about it? And people keep saying that the legal drinking age in Glanzreich is 16, but the kid in that bar couldn't have been more than 12, so which is it?'
'I don't –'
'And you have so many fountains, but you've barely implemented running water in major households. And what about electric lights? And the palace has a telephone, but what good does that do you until the technology is still widely implemented? Do you still use telegrams?'
'I –'
'And have you switched over from phonogram machines to vinyl record players yet –'
'Solana, I don't know!' Leonhard shouts, but he half-smiles. 'How the hell would I know, anyway? I don't even know what a record player is. Go bother Professor Heine about it.'
I see the small professor standing beside one of our carriages, no doubt grading the princes' efforts as they return with their guards. 'Thanks, I will!'
I bound across the cobblestones, and Leonhard chases after me.
'Professor Heine! I –'
'1857; higher export ratios; 16 unaccompanied, but younger if you're with an adult; indoor plumbing is being trialled in Weisburg Palace; electric lights are in nearly all buildings at this point; the telephone at Weisburg was a gift from an English scientist; we still use telegrams, and we still use phonograms.' He looks at me over the top of his glasses. 'Anything else?'
'Uh … No. Thank you.'
He gives me a wry smile. 'I could hear your enthusiasm from the end of the street. And how did the two of you go?'
Leonhard and I both wince. I finally pull out the folded paper wrapper from my pocket. 'I have no real personal preferences … so I think that I inadvertently sabotaged his grade. I'm sorry.'
Heine looks bewildered. 'You mean to tell me that you don't have a favourite thing, and yet you look like you had such a wonderful time? How does that make sense?'
'Oh, well … I asked Prince Leonhard to show me around the city. I've always wanted to see Glanzreich for myself. But that's not something that you can buy. And we couldn't bring back a receipt as proof of our efforts.'
Heine's expression softens. 'I would say that the smile on your face is proof enough. And sometimes the best gifts are intangible. A+.'
Our eyes widen. Then Leonhard sweeps me off my feet and spins me around the cobblestones. 'A+?! That's even better than an A! Yes!'
'Of course it's better than an A, you idiot!' I splutter. 'Would you kindly put me down?'
'Yes, put her down,' Eins says, stalking over with Yulenka in tow. 'You lot are bad enough under normal circumstances. I can't stomach any more of your theatrics today.'
Leonhard pulls a face. 'Boo …'
'Well?' Eins slaps a paper receipt into Heine's open palm. 'I've fulfilled my obligations. Never spring something like this on me again, Professor. Do I make myself clear?'
'Yes, Your Highness.'
'Well?'
'Oh, your… grade?'
Leonhard's eyebrows shoot up and mine do too. 'Well, this is going to be good.'
'Your grade is an … A.'
Eins waits for a moment. He frowns. 'Pardon?'
'You bought Yulenka something that she wanted. It didn't have to be expensive, but it was, and it was also something specific. Were it not for the fact that you could have been a little more gracious about it, then I would have given you an A+. It's not just the thought that counts, but also the intentions of the giver.'
'Eins just got something less than a perfect grade?' Bruno leans out of the carriage window. 'Quick, someone take a photograph – you don't see that every day.' Eins takes one step toward the carriage, and Bruno yips in fright, promptly sitting back in his seat. 'A-Anyway, we've been waiting for you, Leonhard and Solana. Come on!'
'Coming!'
We hop inside the carriage and Professor Heine steps inside after us.
'So how did we all do?' I ask him.
He takes a seat.' How do you think you went?'
I follow his gaze, looking around at the carriage's occupants.
The girls look happy. They're smiling, having real conversations, laughing at dumb jokes, teasing each other, talking to the princes and looking like they're genuinely having fun, and …
'We look like we had too much fun.'
'Too much fun?'
'We're not here to have fun, Professor – we're here to guard the princes.'
'I think you're capable of doing both. And I mean this not in the way that it sounds, but rather … you are still girls, after all. You're still young. You should laugh while you can.'
I narrow my eyes. 'Frivolous.'
He raises an eyebrow. 'Necessary.'
His amber eyes have a warm glow to them, all the more obvious in the fading dusk. They're illuminated by a spark of – life.
'I don't know what motivates you or how you run your business,' Heine says, 'but … I would venture a guess and say it's for the sake of protecting others. Am I wrong?'
I shrug. 'It's where the money is.'
'I know. But it isn't just about financial value, is it? Protecting someone means protecting their heart, their dreams and their happiness. Those things are important, people are important … and you are important too.' He lowers his voice. 'Importance is not reserved for your rich and famous clients, Solana. Protecting the rights of others is to affirm those rights for yourself, and vice versa.'
I clear my throat after a long silence. 'That aside … how did we do? In terms of our assigned task. I'm curious.'
'Well, let's see.' Heine opens a notebook and scans one of the pages. 'Books, accessories, a doll, makeup, fabric, a sightseeing trip – '
'Wait, who got fabric?!'
Elle laughs. 'Do you even need to ask? Wait until you see the new dress I'm going to make – it'll to be fantastic.'
Licht gives her a grin. 'Can't wait to see you in it.'
'Yes, yes, duly noted.'
'Hey.' I say. 'Hey.' Only Leonhard and Licht are here to hear me, but I pray that the other girls are echoing the same sentiment in the other carriage in my stead. 'Thank you. This was very generous.'
'Yeah, well. We had to spend our money on something,' Leonhard muttered.
Licht's gaze softens. 'Our pleasure, girls. Though I have to admit that some of us are old hands at this.'
'How so? I wouldn't be surprised if you told me that some of you had never left the palace before.'
'Yikes, that was harsh.' Licht shrugs. 'All of us have left the palace before, and on our first real trip to town, Professor Heine showed us around Wienner.'
Leonhard adds, 'We all bought him presents for a welcome party –'
'Y-Yeah,' Licht stammers. 'But I think you girls got the better end of the deal, and jeez, look at the time … I thought we were supposed to have been out of here by six, ha ha …'
I raise an eyebrow. Elle hides us behind her swathe of fabric and whispers, 'What are the odds that they're going to try and throw us with a welcome party and that Leonhard nearly just blew the lid off the surprise?'
'Highly likely.'
Leonhard can't hear what we're saying, but he looks highly offended. I smirk.
'Anyway, what do you want to do when we get back?' Elle asks.
'A hot bath,' I say promptly. 'With a book, fluffy slippers and no dramas.'
Elle sighs and hugs her swathe of fabric to her chest. 'That sounds like the life.'
'Yeah …'
What a life. If only the drama didn't follow us around all over the Western Continent
If only we didn't go out of our way every single time to seek the drama out.
If only I had the self-restraint not to go after every single clue.
If only.
I look out the carriage window. What a life it would be – but it wouldn't be this life anymore, would it?
Chapter 15: To Meet A King
Chapter Text
~ Solana ~
I rest my head in my hand, glaring at Rin across the table. 'Ugh. No. Just no. That's not what jam is for.'
'Oh. Am I meant to stir it into my tea instead? Gomennasai …'
'No, no, no.'
I stab a knife into the jam that's causing the argument – no doubt made from lovingly harvested berries that were smashed and blitzed into this jewel-like ruby blend – and proceed to spread it on my toast.
I talk above the merry tinkle of fine china, crystal glasses and half-hearted morning conversation. 'For the last time, Rin, we're not in Orosz. Remove that jam from your tea at once.'
Bristling, Rinako scoops a spoonful of jam out of her teacup and eats it while glowering at me. 'Mendokuseiiiii…'
'Oh, be quiet.'
Pale morning light streams through the windows and sets the edges of the velvet curtains ablaze. The walls are adorned with the golden swirls of an art nouveau pattern. The napkin holders are solid gold and adorned with delicate engravings … as delicate as the damn coat of arms of Glanzreich can be, I guess.
'Can you pass the –' Elle can't even finish her sentence before Daphne tosses her a bread roll. Elle catches it with one hand. 'Much appreciated.'
'Manners!'
'Solana, who's watching?'
'The expression is 'dance' like no one's watching, not 'eat' like no one's watching!'
Elle pulls a face. 'You don't need to fill in for Yulenka, you know. I'm sure we'll meet our quota of dance-related jokes either way.'
I slam my knife back down on the table. She's right, but it's too early for us to start pulling each other's hair.
'Have you had your coffee yet, hon?'
I follow Rin's lead and give Elle a filthy look over my melange. 'I'm trying to.'
I have no doubt that the princes – if they're up by now – are having to deal with footmen, maids, butlers, and chefs at their own breakfast table. I couldn't imagine having to use perfect etiquette at every meal. I help myself to half of Elle's bread roll, chew and frown. By contrast, we had our plates and dishes delivered to a separate dining room – bread rolls, jam, cold meats and cheese – and were thereafter left to our own devices.
It's that way. Otherwise, I'd end up springing across the table at Prince Leonhard's throat, and that wouldn't go over well with so many witnesses.
I lean past Elle and wave until Verene looks up from her needlessly complicated array of cutlery. 'Do you know anything about what we're doing today?'
Verene shakes her head, eyes wide. She has too much bread roll in her mouth to be able to answer me right away, and she nearly chokes. 'Let a girl chew and swallow, would you?' She coughs. 'For once, we have a blank slot on the schedule. I tried to see what I could find out, but … even though Professor Heine and I were running around town together yesterday, you know that he never lets anything slip.'
'You did spend the better part of the afternoon in a stationery store with him.'
'Are you trying to say that something went down between us? Because not to sound like Elle, but I prefer guys with height and money.'
'That's a low blow –'
'Egads, the humour abounds this morning,' Chiara mutters. 'And none in good taste, either.'
Rin blinks, then snaps her jaws in the air like a hunting dog. '… I cannot taste the humour. Is it very faint?'
'If you're trying to be funny, then –'
The doors swing open.
'Herr Jakob Frien, high steward to the king, and Herr Heine Wittgenstein, royal tutor to the princes of Glanzreich,' the guards announce. The words are punctuated by the footsteps of the two men as they walk into the room.
They look like someone just died. In other words – grim.
'Gee, who died?' Elle whispers.
'That's just what I was thinking,' I murmur.
The Chatons rise to their feet amidst a scraping of chairs on marble.
'His Majesty Viktor von Glanzreich has returned from his travels,' Jakob says. 'He summons you for an audience.'
It occurs to me far too late that I should have been scared stiff that something had happened to one of the princes.
'… Of course. We would be honoured.'
Professor Heine steps out of Jakob's shadow. 'His Majesty has expressed a desire to meet the girls in whose care his sons are going to be for the next month.' He adjusts his glasses. I can see something in his eyes, something that looks like … worry. Chills trickle down my spine. 'His Majesty looks forward to making your acquaintances.'
'Likewise.'
Then I realise what Jakob and Heine just said.
The king. An audience.
I feel sick. In hindsight, that double-shot melange may have been a bad choice. Caffeine and adrenaline burn in my chest, and I start to shake with nerves.
'When does His Majesty wish to see us?'
'As soon as permissible.'
I exhale. 'Of course. His Majesty's wish is our command.'
The ornate double doors swing open. We're clearly not the first ones here.
The princes break off in the middle of their conversation. Licht's smile is the only ray of sunshine in the room, but it quickly fades. The princes look like dark, mirrored versions of their usual vibrant selves, and it feels like an unexpected blow to the ribs.
We're the ones who should be walking across the room like the marble is made of thin ice. What business do the king's own sons have looking so on edge?
'Good morning,' I venture.
'Good morning.'
We make our way to our respective princes' sides, catching the eyes of our friends and our charges. Our gazes snag like rusty hooks and eyes. Though Rinako is present, Princess Adele is not. She's likely the one person who could brighten up this dire scene.
'You all look like death,' I mutter to Leonhard. 'Did something happen?'
He grimaces and traces a finger down the bridge of his nose. He looks as though he's awaiting the onset of a migraine. 'If you want to call a royal summons "something", then sure.'
I cross my arms over my chest. My skin pricks with shivers. So many people are in this room, yet I still feel cold.
A large portrait overshadows the room. My eyes follow the brushstrokes, and I realise it's a portrait of the king, set against the bloody backdrop of war. His face is shadowed, and his eyes are a mere gleam of burning light. I chew my lip, wondering when the portrait was painted. I wonder if it was really only so long ago that His Majesty spent his time on the battlefield instead of in a palace.
The doors swing open yet again, this time for Prince Eins, Count Rosenberg and Yulenka. They stalk into the room. Elle has the presence of mind to say, 'I guess we can't say "dynamic duo", so how about "terrifying threesome"?'
'Hm.'
The mood shifts, this time for the worse. Judging by the princes' expressions, neither of the two older men has done anything to endear themselves to the younger heirs to the throne in the past. Though I already gathered that from Yulenka's phone call from Schwarz and our encounter with Prince Eins in Wienner.
'Good morning,' Count Rosenberg says. He raises one eyebrow and smirks. 'I trust you've been playing nicely with your new friends, boys?'
If I wasn't seeing red, I'd be impressed by the fact that he has the ability to offend two diametrically opposed groups of people at the same time.
'Did you come here just to be a nuisance?' Leonhard snaps.
Kai winces, and Bruno stiffens, but they do nothing to stop him. Licht turns his back and crosses his arms. The guards standing before the set of doors tense up, but they can't choose a side here.
'Did you come here to behave like the children that you are?' Eins retorts. 'Or did you come here to conduct yourselves with dignity?'
The accusation sets the princes back on their heels, and to my dawning horror, I realise that this scenario could be about to turn into an ugly mess. No hands politely placed on shoulders or soothing compliments are going to fix this. We're going to have to haul the princes back by their suspenders or tie them up with our bootlaces if we want to keep this situation from devolving into a civil war –
'Mein herrs, mein madams,' Jakob says.
It takes a moment to realise that the king's high steward is already in the room with us. I see Professor Heine step out from Jakob's shadow. He looks grieved. Things must have seemed enough that he was willing to step in and forcibly bring an end to the fight. My lip curls in a smirk. While I can commend his resolve, I can't fathom how someone of his stature could would be able to physically stop all of us.
Jakob clears his throat. 'Thank you. The laws of the kingdom require you to lay down your arms before entering the presence of the king. Please remove any and all weapons on your person and place them on the provided tables.'
I grimace. I had forgotten about this part.
We're standing right beside the tables, and I realise that there's nothing we can do but comply. I exhale through my teeth. Somehow, this grates on the nerves.
And I realise why – it's because everyone's watching.
I give Prince Leonhard a taste of his own medicine and turn my back on him. The girls leave their princes, stepping up to the tables. I hear whispers behind me as I unbutton my sleeve cuffs and remove the blades and sheaths strapped to my forearms. Then I reach into my ankle boots, pulling a slim Fabrique Nationale 1873 chamelot delvigne revolver out of one and a spare size ten opinel pocketknife out of the other.
'Stop staring, Prince.'
'I was wondering if you had a sword,' Leonhard says.
'Where the hell would I pull a sword out from?'
'Uh … Solana?'
'What, Elle?'
Elle stands beside me, clutching her a holster and a Colt Single Action Army revolver in each hand. She shrugs helplessly. 'I think I'll have to take off my dress.'
Licht whistles, and I flush scarlet. 'Prince, be quiet.'
'It's not my fault that one of us insisted that steel corset ribs would also make great knives … ' Elle sighs and fishes around in her bodice. 'Let me see what I can do without scandalising the entire royal court. Give me a few minutes.'
I turn away from her, saying, 'And give me patience …'
'And Prince Licht,' Elle adds with an exasperated huff, 'give me elbow room so I don't cut your precious face.'
'Ah, if I must …'
A flood of metal trinkets and baubles floods over the table, and the sound is deafening. Chiara shakes out her sleeves, then she prises apart the loops and whorls of her hairdo, producing even more shiny objects. 'Ow. Ow …'
Impatiently, Bruno helps her detangle the last of the items from her hair. 'Good heavens, what is all this?'
She winces, tears springing to her eyes. 'Pocket pistols and miniature revolvers.'
Each one is small enough to fit in your palm, a gun in miniature – worn as rings, strung together as jewellery, pinned to the ears or woven into the hair. Bruno's eyes widen. 'Oh my word.' He turns and says to Heine, 'Master, were you aware that you took on a miniature armoury as your apprentice?'
Heine raises his eyebrows. 'No, I was not. Though had I noticed, I would have been intrigued … and therefore more likely to take her on much faster than I originally did.'
'What?!' Chiara whines. 'Life is so unfair…'
Bruno's eyebrows knit together, and he asks, 'Why do you need so many of these, anyway?'
She blinks back the tears of pain and embarrassment. 'Because they're single-chamber guns, so they have to be packed meticulously by hand.'
Count Rosenberg takes one of the pocket pistols out of her open hand and holds it up to the light, examining it. 'My. These are exquisite.' He looks down at her. 'These are from the Kingdom of Veneto, are they not?'
She freezes. My heart skips a beat. 'H-How did you know?'
'I recognised the make. Craftsmen in Veneto make these little things in their spare time. These resemble the make of Venetian pistols, also – no trigger guard.' He drops the gadget back into her hand. 'Forgive me, I was asking out of personal interest.' His eyes narrow slightly. 'Did I offend you?'
She quivers, and I push past her. He's the last person I want to make an enemy of … but if you mess with one of us, then you mess with all of us. 'My, the nobles of Glanzreich have such niche interests.'
'So do you. A very unusual collection of girls with …' He picks up my pistol and examines it. '… some truly unusual interests.'
Rinako puts her sword on the table and relinquishes a handful of throwing stars and kunai before removing her hat. 'Interests that pay well,' she says flatly.
'How mercenary of you.'
Daphne removes her rapier from the sash at her waist. She places the blade on the table. 'We have to earn a living somehow.'
'Indeed we do.' Verene places a single M1879 Reichsrevolver on the table. 'I bet one of us earns more in a day than you do in a month. What do high stewards even do, anyway? No offense, Herr Jakob. You're the high servant to the king – I'm not talking about you.'
Rosenberg looks at her coldly. 'And pray tell, which one are you? I wasn't aware that any members of the royal family had red hair such as yours.'
'And I wasn't aware that it was any of your concern. This isn't Schwarz Palace.'
I nudge Verene. 'Not to encourage you in your stupidity, but I think you may have your own cheering section.'
She turns to see that the princes have grins on their faces and fresh light in their eyes. She smiles. 'Well, I guess I've got to earn a living somehow –'
A deafening crash resounds and echoes up to the chandeliers. I slowly turn around.
'Heilige Scheiße,' one of the princes says.
Yulenka puts down two rifles, each of them nearly taller than she is with stocks on, and steps back. The two weapons and their magazines probably weigh more than her total body weight, and she's not built like a willow either. She dusts off her hands on her skirts. She looks around. 'What?'
Licht swallows hard. 'Did you conjure those out of thin air?'
She says nothing and rejoins Prince Eins. He looks stiffer than a piece of cardstock. Count Rosenberg looks less than amused, and on closer inspection, I can see sweat tricking down his neck.
Yulenka looks at him. Repeatedly. Her eyes keep darting to his right side. He notices and shakes his head at her. After a moment, his trademark smirk reappears. 'So … the witch has begun to work her magic.'
She looks away. 'Do not tempt me. I have heard that pure noble blood is an elixir to the creatures of the night.'
His shoulders rise, and the edges of his teeth flash in a snarl. 'Eins, do something about her.'
'Do something about your attitude. But my father will not be pleased if the two of you spill blood on his marble floors, so …' Eins places his hands on Yulenka's shoulders, moving her to his opposite side, away from Ernst. 'Will that suffice?'
'I suppose –'
The doors open yet again, and we all turn to see who it is. I narrow my eyes.
Fashionably late.
Amelie Seydoux enters the room – as exquisite as a fashion plate and as relentless as a business executive. Count Rosenberg already thought the Chatons were mercenary in nature, but he hadn't even met Amelie yet.
She curtseys gracefully, yet she keeps moving forward, and it feels like watching a dancer cross the stage. 'Greetings, Your Highnesses, sirs. Girls.' Amelie removes a jewelled belt and two jewelled hairpins, as well as her earrings, placing them on the table, along with a wickedly sharp dagger that she removes from her fur-trimmed coat.
I give her a sharp look as she joins me, and she stares right back. There's no love lost between us, to be sure. She may have hauled my sorry ass out of a bar in Fleur and told me that she saw something in me, but to think that I would be indebted to her is ridiculous.
We created the Chatons together. But someone has to be our figurehead, and a 16-year-old with bleached silver hair was never going to be able to fill that role.
'Who's the drop-in?' Leonhard says bluntly.
She smiles sweetly at him, but her words are as dry as unbuttered toast. 'A pleasure, Prince Leonhard. Your reputation as the Lily of Glanzreich, the most beautiful boy on the Western Continent, preceeds you.' Her smile fades. 'I am the director of the Chatons. It is a pleasure.'
'O-Oh.' Leonhard swallows. 'Right.'
Amelie gives me a cool smile. 'Long time no see, Solana.'
'It's been three days, and it wouldn't even have been that if you'd travelled with us in the first place.' I lower my voice. 'Or is that beneath you?'
She tips my head up to hers with one manicured nail. 'Such barbs are beneath you. I pray you've been behaving yourself.'
'Like a saint.'
'Tell me all about it in excruciating detail later on.' She lowers her voice. 'Can't you see the tremendous advantage in setting yourself up as a figure of authority and entering the game at the last moment?'
I seethe. 'You're showboating. I don't care if it's effective psychological manipulation – it's still ridiculous.'
'Thank you. But we're the ridiculous ones, remember.' She arches a brow. 'We're here to show them what the inherent value in being ridiculous and why we should get paid for it. Stay in line.'
She lets me go and promptly ignores me once again. I step back and shrug. What else is new?
Now, nothing stands between us and meeting the king. My hands ache and itch for my gun or for one of my knives. The girls fidget, and the princes look ill at ease.
Jakob glances around our group, then says, 'Are you ready?'
I roll my shoulders and square them, my lungs aching from the strain. 'As you wish.'
He nods and places one hand on the king's door. He knocks. 'Your Majesty. Your sons, the royal tutor, and the Chatons de Fleur, as per your request.'
A low voice says something indiscernible. The guards open the doors.
We step into the room, but I can feel Count Rosenberg's eyes boring a hole in my back. I risk casting a glance behind me and nearly stumble, placing one hand on Leonhard's arm for balance. He stiffens and looks back too. The Count gives us a smile and says nothing, disappearing behind the others.
My eyes dart around the walls, the ceiling and the others. The floor seems to tip, and I still feel like I'm going to fall. But it's too late to have second thoughts, so I step out from behind Prince Leonhard, only to realise that I have nothing to hide behind anymore and I …
… I can't hide anymore.
I take a shaky breath.
As though doing it beneath stage lights and before an audience, the princes bow, and each of us drops into sweeping curtseys beside them.
'Your Majesty,' the princes say. 'Thank you for your service to this country.'
'Greetings, Your Majesty,' we say. 'It is an honour.'
The carpet blurs before my eyes. My head swims, and I stand once again, feeling as though I'm fighting my way to the surface.
And I look up.
The boy in the portrait was framed by blood and gilded edging. The man before us is framed by the gilded whorls and arches of a throne. Gloved hands, one resting on the desk. Golden hair that falls in loose waves on his shoulders. Medals on his chest and a medallion around his neck. Neither his well-cut uniform nor years of peacetime have softened the hard lines and strength of his build. His eyes are as clear as glass and deeper and bluer than ocean waters, yet sharp with a crystalline clarity. His skin is free of scars and war wounds, yet it is still marked indelibly by strength of character. And despite the strength behind his gaze, his eyes still hold gentleness.
'Thank you, my sons. And I offer my thanks to the Chatons for journeying to Glanzreich and contributing their services. It is a pleasure.'
The tension is so tightly wound that it feels like the very air is about to snap.
His Majesty rises from his desk and steps out from behind it. My reflexes are screaming at me to dive behind Leonhard or bolt from the room, but I stand my ground.
I clear my throat. I swallow hard. My breath catches. 'It … Is our pleasure, Your Majesty.'
His eyes meet mine, and he smiles. 'Not at all.' Then he glances between his sons. 'Boys, forgive me, but while I would understand if our guests were to be on their guard – I would expect no less of them – you, on the other hand, have no need to be. Is there something amiss?'
The tension winds up a notch.
Leonhard shifts away, Kai looks down, Licht crosses his arms and Bruno says, hesitatingly, 'Not at all, Your Majesty. Please excuse us.'
The king says nothing for a moment. 'You do know that Glanzreich upholds the right to free speech. Speak your mind, if you wish.'
I forget my nerves and stare. Was that a joke?
Heine clears his throat. 'Forgive me, Your Majesty. I believe that the princes know you well enough to expect an emotional reaction from you upon seeing your children, whom you very rarely get to spend time with. I believe the princes are concerned that you may do something in line with your typical demeanour around them despite the company of our esteemed guests.'
The king looks at his sons again, startled. 'What? But the princes already expressly asked me to treat this as an official meeting, and I gave them my word that I would.'
'Yeah, right. You might as well expect a flooded dam not to break!' Licht snaps. 'Do you remember what we had to do to get you to give your word in the first place? Leonhard wrote you a letter, I called you six times on the phone, Bruno telegrammed you, and Kai begged you …' Licht lets out a frustrated sigh.
Viktor says nothing for a moment. Then he smiles – the gorgeous kind of smile that makes people faint dead away – and he steps forward, taking the princes' hands in his. The tension snaps like a thread and disappears beneath scattered protests and people talking over top of each other.
'To think that was what was clouding your faces,' the king says. 'Well, you needn't have worried. If you felt that strongly about something, I wouldn't want to override your wishes. Nor would I want to embarrass you in front of your new acquaintances, either.'
'We're already embarrassed,' Licht says and yelps in protest when Viktor ruffles his hair. 'Ugh. Elle, start planning my funeral – I'm going to die of embarrassment.'
'Do you want your coffin to be made of ivory or ebony?' Elle asks.
'Neither –'
I can only catch snippets of the conversation – exam results, military training, university engagements and travel arrangements. I could stay on the surface and merely assume that it must be nothing for the king of an empire to manage his own children, but I fall beneath the waves again and see it in a whole different light. It's like the sun has come out again, shining through the water. The king doesn't neglect a single of them – he even asks Eins a question, even though the eldest prince is standing well back from the familial proceedings. A hand on a shoulder, a contagious smile, a kind word … The king looks like a perfect father.
'You're staring,' Elle murmurs. 'Let me guess. You're jealous.'
It takes me time to respond. '… Jealous. Yeah, that. My emotional awareness was lagging a bit. What would I have done if I didn't have you here to tell me how I feel?'
She scoffs. 'Happy to help.'
I clear my throat and talk under my breath. 'Anyone would be jealous of a Christmas card fantasy – but we all know it's not real.'
'I don't know …' Elle muses.
Suddenly, the king whispers something to the princes and they abruptly return to their places at our sides. I flinch. For a moment, I was able to pretend as though this meeting wasn't about us. That moment didn't last very long.
I was almost able to pretend as though we weren't meeting with the king of the realm – but although he is the princes' father, he is still very much a king.
'Thank you for coming,' Viktor says. 'I've already spoken with your director, Amelie, on several occasions, but I wished to give you your individual assignments myself. As you know, each of you will be guarding one of the members of our royal family over the next month. I also wished to meet the ones who are going to be guarding my children.'
I try not to flinch. Talk about immense pressure.
His eyes find mine, and he steps forward. He offers me his hand. His height and build are nothing if not intimidating, and I suddenly wish I'd had the foresight to wear higher heels. I dare to look up again. But even though I'm drowning in his shadow, he's offering me not just his hand, but also a friendly smile. 'Solana de la Roux? C'est bon de te revoir. J'espère que mon fils ne t'a pas causé d'ennuis.'
His Fonsein is perfect – vocabulary, intonation, all of it. I gather my wits and briefly touch my fingertips to his open palm. 'Pas du tout, Votre Majesté. Un plaisir.'
Leonhard narrows his eyes. 'With all due respect, Father, I'm not the troublemaking one.'
Creases line the edges of Viktor's eyes. 'I know. But anyway … Merci de t'occuper de lui.'
'Bien sûr.' I say. 'C'est notre privilège.'
He turns his attention to Chiara, and I nearly faint with relief. I don't even know how I was able to speak intelligible Fonsein.
Then I cringe and look over to see Chiara frozen in place. If she was panicking about meeting the princes, she must be terrified to meet the king. Viktor looks slightly perplexed. I swiftly pinch Chiara's arm to snap her out of it.
'Signorina Chiara. È un piacere darvi il benvenuto nei nostri tribunali,' Viktor says gently. 'Speriamo che vi divertirete qui.'
It is a pleasure to welcome you to our courts. We hope you will have a pleasant time here.
Tears gather in her eyes. He must know about her troubled family background – how could he not – yet his tact and consideration are more than evident. It takes me aback more than I thought it would.
Viktor turns to Elle, and to my surprise, he speaks to her in English. 'I trust that you and Licht are getting along, Miss Elle. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.'
She smiles. 'The pleasure is all mine. And I must say, you are even more handsome than your portrait. Prince Licht clearly inherited your good looks.'
I turn white. No other person in this world could make statements like that sound like the most tasteful of compliments. I begin to shake, and I wonder if I can make it across the room to throttle her before someone pulls me away.
Viktor looks a little surprised. But he smiles back at her. 'If you're referring to the portrait that I think you are … then it was painted over twenty years ago. Things change.'
'For the better.' Before Verene and I can faint dead away in mutual horror, Elle adds, 'It's been wonderful to hear from the princes and their tutor how much the kingdom has changed over the course of your rule. Having seen Glanzreich in person, I can say that it is truly a thing of beauty to behold.'
'Thank you.' Quiet words, and unassuming, yet Viktor glances back at Elle as he introduces himself to Daphne. He switches to Gherman, saying, 'Daphne Danöt. Wir heißen Sie wieder in Glanzreich willkommen. Wir vertrauen darauf, dass Sie einen angenehmen Aufenthalt haben werden, während Sie hier sind.'
'It is a pleasure to be back. Thank you, Your Highness.'
He studies her for a moment. 'You truly do look like Kai. I would even believe that you could be brother and sister.' His gaze softens. 'And though it is a distant relation, I am honoured to be related to such a lovely daughter of Glanzreich.'
Daphne blinks, and then she tries to smile. 'Thank you, Your Majesty.'
I cross my arms over my chest, still shivering slightly. My skin is prickling. Is he trying to push all of our buttons? Or is he just that skilled at piercing through facades?
Prince Bruno steps closer to me and whispers, 'Is Daphne a member of the Danöt family of Glanzreich?'
I nod. 'One and the same,' I whisper back. 'Her family are very distantly connected to the crown through intermarriage. Her father is involved in the Theresian Military Academy's administration.'
He nods, and I notice that his face clouds upon hearing my last sentence. We both return our attention to the king.
Viktor and Verene exchange greetings, and she smiles charmingly, replying with ease. It's strange that out of all of us, she is more at ease with courtly traditions than those of us from noble families. It's very strange. She's an orphan who helped run a stationery shop in Ghermany with her grandparents before joining the Chatons.
Yulenka dips her head courteously to the king, and Viktor speaks to her in the language of Orosz. 'Приветствия. Добро пожаловать в Глэнзрайх. Я надеюсь, вы найдете погоду теплее, чем в вашей прекрасной стране.' Whatever he said, it makes her smile faintly and agree with him.
Then he turns to Rinako. I hold my breath, suddenly curious yet also disheartened. Fonseine, Venetian, English, Gherman, and Oroszya … His Majesty lives up to his reputation, in that he truly is multilingual. But I feel bad for Rinako. What foreigner would be able to converse in Japanese?
I exhale, then stiffen.
'Ohayou gozaimasu, Rinako Kimura.' Viktor says. He lowers his head, in a gracious hint of a bow. Rin's eyebrows shoot up. 'Gurantsuraihi Kyuden e youkoso. Watashi wa Rinako ni musume no sewa o mukashimasu. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.'
Rin trembles. Then she drops to her knees and bows, with her hands on the floor and her forehead touching the marble. 'Yoroshiku onegaishimasu. Ou-sama ni houshi suru koto wa watashi no saidai no tokken de ari, meiyo desu.'
It is my greatest honour and privilege to serve you.
Elle covers her mouth with her hand, and I blink rapidly. 'This is just too sweet,' Elle says. 'I think I might cry.'
'Don't. Please don't. Otherwise, we'll all start.'
Once Rinako is back on her feet, Viktor briefly exchanges greetings with Amelie in a low tone of voice, and then he steps back. 'I trust that we will all be able to get to know one another better over the course of the month. However, that doesn't change the fact that time won't wait for us forever.' He rests a hand on a sheet of paper on his desk. 'I trust you won over my sons and convinced them to let you stay?'
His assessment of our prior plight is more terrifying than the bloody portrait on his reception room wall. I gulp. 'We came to an understanding, Your Majesty.'
His teeth flash in a smile. 'I'm glad to hear it. Now. If any of you feel as though you won't be able to cope, you're welcome to leave now.'
It takes us a moment to realise that he's serious. We look at each other, girls and princes alike. Something tells me that he's not just talking about handling his children's antics.
Headlines and rumours echo in my brain.
What king could reverse the fate of an entire continent in mere years? He must be a monster …
They manipulated an entire academy and brutalised a student to the point of death … expulsion … suspension …
The first royal tutor was evicted from the palace, and the princes strung out the rest and dismissed them all within mere hours …
It was rumoured that the youngest prince was arrested by his own guards after having fled the confines of the palace …
The younger prince didn't get into university on his own … He bribed the University of Wienner to admit him at the age of 16 … No child could write that well … he's either a freak, a liar, or a con artist…
The eldest prince has broken away from the royal family … He says the most outrageous things … It's said that he suffers from manic depression or another mental ailment, and that he is unfit to rule …
The queen …
The voices begin to fade. Regardless of whether the headlines and rumours are true or false, this family's legacy still terrifies me. It terrifies all of us. Even the darkest fantasies still have a basis in reality, don't they?
But we've already stepped through the looking glass and seen what it's really like on the other side. We could be right, or we could be wrong, but maybe … just maybe … these boys are really just that – boys. They just happen to have royal blood. That's all.
Protecting the rights of others is to affirm those rights for yourself, and vice versa, Professor Heine told me once.
Give us a chance, I said.
My eyes widen. Talk about learning from yourself. I step past Prince Leonhard and say, 'We are more than able to cope, Your Majesty, and Your Highnesses. We look forward to working with all of you.'
Viktor weighs me up. He nods. 'Wonderful.'
Then he touches one hand to the open palm of his other. 'Leonhard. Your proficiency in foreign languages has improved over the last year. I want you to step up and involve yourself in the centennial celebrations as a representative of the crown. Solana, you will be accompanying Leonhard to events as his escort.'
'Y-Yes!' Leonhard and I both stammer. 'Yes, sir!'
'Bruno, you've formed strong ties with Orosz through participating in a cultural exchange with Orosz University, and your thesis, "The State of a Modern Nation Looking Forward One Hundred Years", was selected for top honours. Wienner University is going to be holding a symposium on academic excellence in Glanzreich over the last 100 years for the celebrations, and you've been invited to present this thesis, correct?'
Bruno adjusts his glasses and blushes slightly. 'Yes.'
'Accordingly, I want you to participate in the symposium, not as an individual, but as a representative of the royal family. Chiara, you will be accompanying Bruno to events and assisting with preparations.'
'Yes, Your M-Majesty.'
'Licht …' Viktor pauses briefly, and I look over to see Prince Licht standing with his shoulders tensed and his hands in his pockets. 'I know you have other responsibilities outside of the palace. But your friendships with younger royals from other countries have proved invaluable in the past. I would request that you attend the varying galas and society balls that will be held during the centennial celebrations as a royal representative.'
'In other words, you'd like me to cover all the events that Bruno deems too frivolous to attend.'
'I'd like you to fill a valuable and necessary role as a part of the royal family and fulfil your duties to the crown.'
Licht doesn't respond immediately. An unreadable expression flashes across his face, and it doesn't escape Elle's attention or mine. He shrugs and smiles. 'Sure. It's not like I'm not doing anything else.'
'Thank you. Elle, Licht and Maximilian von Rosenberg are currently living in town due to personal circumstances. I would like you to take up residence there with them and assist Licht as needed. You can speak to Licht and Maximilian for more information.'
Elle's eyebrows shoot up. 'Sure … Your Majesty. Happy to oblige.'
'Kai. You are currently enrolled in military academy, and with the start of a new term, your studies will have to remain a priority this month. Nevertheless, your participation in various events would be appreciated. And Daphne … We have enrolled you in Kai's class as a transfer student. You'll be attending classes with him and travelling together to and from the academy.'
Everyone looks shocked. Even Prince Eins is taken aback. The first three princes' assignments read like textbook examples, save for some of the confusion and averted gazes when Licht's place of residence was discussed. By contrast, the implications of what Daphne is going to have to do are fairly clear.
Daphne will have to have to masquerade as a boy and attend an all-male military academy in her home country without her noble parents or noble classmates finding out.
Daphne looks tense, but her back is straight are straight and she doesn't flinch. I wish that I had her resolve.
'Eins?'
The eldest prince nods. Clearly, no elaboration is needed, because all Viktor says is, 'I'll be counting on you.' I have to assume that the king and the crown prince must work together closely enough that Viktor doesn't have to go into detail here. 'Yulenka, you will be accompanying Prince Eins to diplomatic meetings and on state visits, assisting as needed.'
She nods as well. Eins presses his lips together, and says nothing.
'Verene … You will be managing your team's affairs from Weisburg Palace, amongst other things.'
'As you say, Your Highness.'
'And Rinako …' Rin bows deeply, and Viktor says, 'My daughter will be in your care. You will mainly be in the palace, but I trust that you will be a steadfast companion to my daughter and take good care of her nonetheless.'
'Wakarimashita, Ou-sama.'
'And Amelie…' Amelie dips her head, and Viktor says, 'We'll speak again later. Thank you for coming to Glanzreich.'
'Of course, Your Majesty.'
Viktor is silent for a moment. 'Make no mistake, don't think that I am asking any of this lightly – of any of you. I only have one question remaining, girls. Can I entrust you with my sons?'
My teeth show in a brief smile, too sharp and too bright, but I bite back my emotions and say, 'Of course, Your Majesty.'
He studies me. Then he smiles. 'Very good. Dismissed.'
After a startled silence, we begin to head for the doors. I look back, resisting Leonhard's hand on my arm in order to get one last glimpse, despite the urge to get out of the room, slide down a wall and breathe.
Heine says something to the king. His voice is obscured by the sound of footsteps on the carpet. Heine has one hand placed on the king's desk, and his amber eyes are flashing in response to a question.
Then the king's eyes snap from the tutor to me. I flinch, nearly tripping. My face burns hot.
The tutor turns as well, locking eyes with me in the crowd. Then the king half-smiles, rests one arm on his desk and waves.
I cringe. My face feels like it's on fire. I abruptly turn away, burying my face in one hand.
'You look like you're burning up,' Leonhard mutters.
'Don't, Prince, just don't …'
The doors slam shut behind us. I can't help but wonder what's going to be said behind those doors – about us – in our absence.
Well, Your Majesty? How did we do?
Chapter 16: Welcome Party
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
~ Solana ~
A gold-embossed envelope made of creamy marbled paper and stamped with a golden wax seal slides across my desk, inch by inch.
I finally stop its progress with a finger. 'What is this?'
Verene leans across the desk with a grin, fizzing like a bottle of that disgusting cola that Elle likes to drink. 'This is 16th-century marbled paper, sealed with white wax blended with real fragmented gold leaf, and –'
'All right, don't blow a valve. I get it.' I pull out a knife, but after a deadly glare from Verene, I sigh and remove a letter opener from the drawer. After opening the envelope, I draw a sheet of paper out. The light from the window seeps through the paper and burns through the gold ink.
'You are cordially invited to …' I blink and read it again. 'You are cordially invited to a welcome party to honour your arrival at Weisburg palace … In the third sitting room at seven at night … dress code, semi-formal.'
I slap the paper down on the table. 'What the hell is this?'
'Paper has feelings too,' Verene protests.
'Damn your paper –' I throw the invitation and the envelope down on the desk. 'I know that I said the princes might have been planning to throw us a surprise party, but I didn't think they'd actually do it.'
She shrugs. 'Looks like they actually did. And please don't shoot the messenger. I'm too young and pretty to die.'
I lean my head on my hand and bite my lip. '… But why?'
'Why what?'
'We're not their guests. Don't look at me like that. We're not official guests of the palace – that's just our cover story – and we're here under extremely unusual circumstances. The princes have no obligation to entertain us.'
'Maybe they're just doing it for their own fun …'
'Oh yes, that makes me feel so much better,' I retort.
Verene frowns and taps a pen against her arm. 'Hm … You may have been right. They do seem to be treating us as diplomatic guests and using it as a cover story…'
'Whoever might be scrutinising our cover isn't going to be able to get close enough to the palace to find out whether the princes invited us to a dinner party or not.'
'If it bothers you that much, then just don't go!' Verene yells, and she throws up her hands. 'Good heavens, Solana. What's going on with you? You're so … highly-strung. Even more so than usual.'
'I've got a lot on my mind,' I mutter.
'Yeah. Good to know you're staying focused on the job that we're actually being paid to do.'
I glare at her. 'Excuse me?'
A flash of anger lights her eyes. 'Oh, I'm sorry. You clearly have so much else going on.' She crosses her arms. '7 pm. Semi-formal. Don't be late – if you're not too busy to come.'
I grit my teeth. 'All right, all right, I'm … sorry. I'll come.'
Verene sighs and slams the shuts the door behind her. I throw a paperweight at it. The trinket hits the door, chipping the paint.
I sit back in my chair and snap my pencil in two. I exhale.
… What is wrong with me?
People say that your mind can only retain memory of seven things at any given moment.
I close my eyes.
This is the assignment to end all assignments. I'm still trying to find someone in Glanzreich. My prince is a nightmare to deal with. I still have homework to finish. I'm still worried about Yulenka. An invitation that I don't want lies in front of me. I just lost my temper with one of my closest friends. I can't remember nor deal with more than seven things at once. If this keeps up, I'll end up snapping more than just my pencil.
I need to get out of my own head. I get up and slip out the door, peering left and right to make sure that I'm not about to run into Verene. She doesn't deserve to be subjected her to my ill humour again so soon.
Leonhard's door is closed, and I pause before it. Then I shake my head and keep going. All I'd be doing is using him as a punching bag. No doubt he could take it, but I don't want him to run to his father and complain if I go fully off the rails while fighting with him.
'All right,' I hear Elle say. 'The Golden Gala, the Silver Gala and the Centurion's Dinner. Which is the highest priority?'
Intrigued, I lean around the door of Licht's room.
'We're going to all of them, love.' The prince is sitting on a suitcase, trying to hold it shut while fastening the straps and clasps.
'I know, but there's no sense in expending the same amount of energy on all of them,' Elle says. 'Which one's the "big deal"? The literal main event?'
'The Golden Gala. I also don't have a good track record with that one, so I'll have to up my efforts this year.'
Elle gives him a weary look. 'Dare I ask …?'
Licht looks up, and his expression brightens. 'Oh, Solana! Come sit on this for me, will you?'
I sigh and walk over, taking his place on top of the piece of luggage. 'What have you got in there? The royal kitchen sink?'
'Ha! No.' He yanks one strap to its tightest notch before moving on to the next. 'I was back in the area for all of three days, but my girlfriends gave me enough gifts to fill a crate. It's ridiculous.'
It finally occurs to me, and I ask him, 'Are you … packing?'
He pulls his hair back over his shoulder and looks up. 'I don't live at the palace. I'm living in town with a friend of mine. I swung by to meet you lot and pick Elle up before heading back.'
'You're a prince, yet you have to go flatting with a friend?'
'I don't "have" to. And alas, if it were not for an undeniable call of duty that I must follow, I would but stay here with those that I love –'
Elle snorts, 'Call of duty, my foot – the call of beautiful women and good coffee, more like.'
He gives her a warning look, then turns back to me. He tilts his head and smiles. 'It's been fun though, darling.' He gives me a kiss on the cheek and gets to his feet again. 'Thanks for the help. See you around.'
Elle pulls me off the suitcase and escorts me out of the room. 'We're not leaving quite yet, though. See you tonight!'
'… Yes. Tonight.'
I shake my head and wander down the hall. One thing at a time.
A fluffy dog barrels down the hall, chased by a flustered maid with two corkscrew curls. Daphne and Maximilian stroll down the marble staircase and out a side door with their swords over their shoulders. The tick of an elaborate grandfather clock echoes behind a crystal pane.
I kneel before the clock, admiring the intricate craftsmanship.
'Good afternoon, Solana –'
'I'll have it done, I swear!' I yelp. Then I sheepishly look over my shoulder. 'Professor Heine.'
He blinks. 'You'll have what done?'
I grimace. 'My homework.'
'Oh, that. There's no rush.'
'No rush?'
He kneels beside me, with one knee up and one arm draped across it. 'Tell me, what formal education have you had, Solana?'
My eyes flick back to the clockwork. 'I was mostly self-taught. I had lessons at a church for a little while.'
His eyes widen briefly, but then he composes himself again. 'I see. It seems as though you've been in the system for long enough to think that the completion of an education is an end unto itself.'
'I don't follow.'
He adjusts his glasses, following my line of sight to the cogs and gears whirring behind the glass. He seems like the kind of person who would take the entire clock apart and put it back together just to see how it worked.
'Learning is the true goal of education,' he says. 'The goal shouldn't be a certificate, a degree, or a societally imposed milestone.'
'Bold words. I bet you're beloved by the academic community.'
'Trust me, there is little love lost between us.'
'Heh.'
I examine him. He's the kind of person who's so smart that you can't tell whether they know if they're being funny or not. His amber eyes flicker. He's holding a pocket watch, one that I've seen him use countless times by now.
I cross my arms behind my head. 'Does that mean I can get away with turning my essay in late?'
His lips quirk. 'Not a chance. Though you don't need to be so panicked about it.' He studies me, and tension begins to wind an invisible clockwork winder embedded in my spine. 'But I suppose that's not the only thing on your mind, is it?'
'I'm not in the mood to share.'
'And that's perfectly all right. But if you can fit one more thing in your head –'
'I can't.' I sigh. 'I literally can't fit another thing in there. I can't do everything at once, and it's … frustrating.'
Then I button my lips and look away. So much for not sharing.
'… I see. Then just take it one thing at a time.'
'I can't.' It comes out as a whine, and the sound of my voice makes me want to put my head through the wall. 'I've got too much going on.'
'I'm sure you do. But regardless, you can only do one thing at a time, despite how many things might be whirling around in your head.'
My words come back to bite me. One thing. One thing at a time.
'Are you speaking from experience?'
'Yes.' He meets my eyes. 'Yes, I am.' He gets up, touches my shoulder, and walks off. 'If you need someone to talk to, then you know where to find me.'
'Don't bet on it,' I grumble.
'I'm not a betting man.' He glances over his shoulder, half-smiles. 'Though if I were, I would bet on my students. On you.'
He disappears around the corner, and I head the other way, slipping out of the palace via a side door.
I feel restless, and I want to step out of my own skin, but I have to make do with stepping onto the palace grounds instead. A firey sunset that paints the grounds a deep orange, shot through with coral.
Was I always this much of a mess? It's hard to believe that it could have still been this way back then – when we lived at a candlelit townhouse in Fleur where we all loved each other despite our flaws … because we didn't have to fear condemnation as long as we were together.
How hard have I been trying? And for how long?
I drift to a halt. A rose harbour studs the pathway like a jewel. The flowers look sugared, like decorations. A wooden seat creaks in the breeze.
I sink onto it, and my heels scuff the ground. I sigh. The scent of the roses drifts like perfume, wafting up into a sky freckled with early stars.
I've been trying hard. So very hard. I planned and plotted and manipulated and wound myself up like a clockwork doll fit to snap and spill cogs and gears everywhere.
I tip my head up to the sky and squeeze my eyes shut. Saltwater burns beneath my lashes.
I tried so hard to make this happen.
And now that it's finally happening, I think I'm beginning to fall apart. Because what am I going to do when it's finally over?
A wind blows along the path, a vanishing gust. A moment later it whirls back the other way.
I sit forward. The wind blows back and forth in rapid gusts. I narrow my eyes. 'Prince Leonhard?'
He stops on a dime, windmilling for a second before he turns to face me. 'What?'
I sit back. 'So it was you. Don't hurt yourself.'
'This is just how I get around.' He points a thumb at his chest. 'First place in the junior track-and-field fifth division – '
' – three years in a row,' I finish.
'Right.'
The wind teases my hair. The prince's face is half-shadowed, as though he's wearing a masquerade mask.
'Do you ever feel like you're trying too hard?' I ask.
Then I shake my head and look away. Who am I kidding? Trying too hard, running too fast, yelling too loud and hurting too much – what's the point of asking a fish if it's wet?'
'Of course I do. Move over.'
Leonhard takes a seat beside me. His swing is barely big enough for two, and he has to put one arm behind my shoulders for space. 'I'm still trying to get a hundred on the makeup test for my makeup test, so what do you think?' He exhales. 'If I want to become king despite being the fourth prince, then I'm going to have to work twice as hard as my brothers, and even then…'
'How do you do it without making a mess?'
'Trying hard makes a mess no matter what you do,' he retorts. 'It can't be helped. But if you have people who will forgive you anyway and won't leave you to clean up the mess on your own, then … yeah.'
'Forgive …'
I can hear the faint buzz of drifting fireflies. They whirl around the palace grounds. Dots of light scatter throughout the arbour, giving Leonhard a crown of stars.
'Why are you helping me?' I whisper.
He doesn't even have to discredit the question. We can hardly go five minutes without fighting about something, so the fact that he's willing to listen to my problems makes me wonder whether there's something wrong with him.
Leonhard tugs on the edge of his glove, refastening a button on his wrist. 'I used to sit here after screwing something up and running like hell to get away from it. Often, Bruno would be the one who would show up and try to talk to me. I just …' He reddens. 'I wanted to see what it would feel like to be on the other side.'
On the other side?
It would be great to be on the other side of this already – with a cheque in hand, the villains locked up, and the kingdom saved. But I guess that's why they call it a quest … you have to actually go on the journey in order to reach the end.
'Are you coming to the dinner tonight?'
I open my eyes and give him a sideways glance. 'I'll think about it.'
'What? But you've got to come!'
I crack a smile and resist the urge to give him a kick in the shins. 'Relax, I'll be there.'
He sits back again. 'Good. I thought I told Verene to make it an imperative command …' he mutters.
'You don't say…' My copper wire ring scratches against my chest. 'What should I wear?'
'Didn't it say?'
'Semi-formal attire. I have no idea what you boys' idea of "semi-formal" is.'
'And I have no idea what your idea of "semi-formal" is – you're a girl,' he retorts.
I watch the fireflies weaving through the night. 'I'll figure something out. I'll make it work. Somehow.'
I step between pools of candlelight. The light of the flames refracts off the silvery fabric of my dress. Maybe I should make an effort and try to wear some colour some time. But each time the time comes, I always change my mind.
The golden invitation dangles from my fingertips, and I descend a flight of stairs. Gilded portraits draped in shadows adorn the walls. I find myself wandering between them. Stephan. Adriene. Viktor. Maria. Rose.
I slow to a halt. The woman in the portrait has a delighted smile and two glossy ropes of hair knotted together. Despite the medium, she is alive with movement, depicted with her crown falling from her head – a mishap frozen in time by a talented artist. It's a far more playful portrait than most.
Rose, the queen of Glanzreich.
The portrait is covered with black crepe.
Rose, the queen of Glanzreich. The Rose of the Western Continent. May she rest in peace.
I step back, feeling a little like I've been punched in the gut.
… Their late queen – so popular with the Western Continent that her influence did more for the king's reforms than his armies and generals …
I feel a set of eyes on my back. I turn and look up to see a portrait of the reigning king on the opposite wall. He's seated on a throne, dressed in the formal gala uniform of the military and adorned with medals. Despite his formal posture, the artist either did not or could not mask his smile.
I'd like to think it was the latter.
The lights darken as the sands of time continue to trickle through the hourglass, and my smile fades. To be consigned to only see your love in a portrait … what a cruel fate.
Fragments glitter in my head. A recently commissioned statue in a plaza in Wienner. A trip to Veneto. But the fragments are just that – fragments – but nothing of substance.
I cross my arms and continue down the hall, leaving the star-crossed, ill-fated lovers behind.
A steep staircase lies below me. Laughter and light spill from an open door below.
Too late, I realise that I have no escort. A particularly loud yell echoes up the stairs, and I sigh. Leonhard's already inside. I can't blame him. I put this ordeal off until the last possible moment, but to show up without an escort is still somewhat improper.
I throw my shoulders back and slink down the staircase. It can't be helped. I brought this on myself, just like every other problem in my life … all save but for one.
I can only hope that someone else will be late or make an even worse entrance than I will –
Professor Heine flies down the steps, only to see me and trip, skidding the rest of the way down and landing with a sharp crack. I can only hope that was the crack of boot heels on marble rather than the snap of his ankle bones.
I needn't have worried, because he turns around to look up at me a moment later. 'Solana.'
'Professor,' I say, descending the steps and joining him. 'Nice landing.'
He reddens. 'Thank you. I think. Are you joining us this evening?'
'Leonhard talked me into it.'
'Wonderful.' Then he offers me his hand. I stare at him confusion. He raises his eyebrows and adds, 'I don't bite.'
I arch an eyebrow. 'I'm sure.'
'I would offer you my arm, but …' After a long pause, he says, '… I'm afraid the height difference would leave you liable to trip.'
Oh. He's offering to be my escort.
I gingerly take his offered hand. 'You're not that much shorter than me, you know.' And without thinking, I ask, 'Why are you so short, anyway?'
His grip tightens, and his fingernails prick my palm. 'Perhaps I need to add etiquette classes back into the curriculum.'
'I didn't mean anything by it!' We walk towards the doors, and I say, 'I was just wondering …'
'La curiosité a tué le chaton.'
'Harsh. Okay, I'm sorry.' I glance at him. '… Look. Thank you for coming with me. I thought you would have been sick of me by now.'
'Now who's the one being harsh?'
'It's the truth. I've been trying so hard, and I think I've … hurt some people.'
He's quiet for a moment. 'Some seasons of life require you to try hard in order to get things done, and sometimes people do get hurt as a result. Many people's goals are mutually exclusive. But you have to ask yourself … Will it be worth it? Because if the people you hurt are your friends … then those friendships may not still be standing once you reach the other side.'
There's nothing that I can say to that. After a moment, I ask, 'Do you ever flick that teacher switch off?'
'Learning is a lifelong process that goes on until the day one dies,' Heine says smoothly, not missing a beat.
'I'll take that as a no.' We walk towards the doors, and I look down at him in amusement. 'What I'd give to see you turn that switch off for a night at the pub with some drinking companions.'
'I don't have drinking companions,' Heine retorts. Then he winces. 'Well, that's not entirely accurate. I have one. Just one.'
'Oh? Now that would be a sight.'
We step through the doors.
It feels like it's been years since all of this began, but in reality, it's only been a few days. I don't know when it will come to an end, but it occurs to me that maybe I should enjoy this while it lasts … because even the grandest of empires don't last forever.
The ballroom is golden, shimmering with memories and good spirits. Everyone is here, from the princes to the palace guards.
Leonhard turns to me, giving me an unimpressed look. 'You're late,' he says, but then the clock strikes the hour, and he grinds his teeth. '… You were nearly late. Where were you?'
'I'm not as fast as you are, Prince.' I move to rejoin him, then I remember that I was accompanied here by someone else. 'Heine, I –'
The professor is already leaving, but he glances back at me. 'You have to guard the prince, don't you? Besides, I'll see you later. The night is still young, after all.'
He disappears into the crowd, and I gladly take an offered champagne flute from a passing footman. After a moment of hesitation, Leonhard takes one as well.
The two of us lean against one of the marble pillars in the ballroom. 'What does Heine think is going to happen?' Leonhard asks. 'This is a party, after all.'
I shrug and sip from my glass. 'I don't know. Maybe someone will try to fire a cannon through the window.'
'And how exactly are you going to save me from a cannonball?' Leonhard asks.
'I won't have to. I'm sure that you can outrun a cannonball with no problem.'
'What exactly are we paying you for, then?'
'Let me worry about the details, Prince. If anything, that's what your father is paying us for. Here's to all of us surviving the month.'
We clink glasses, and Leonhard takes a sip of champagne. I watch him while I finish my own glass. His expression blanks. 'This is disgusting.'
'Perhaps you should try Niederglanzreich white wine instead.'
Neither of us heard the king approaching, and Leonhard flinches, nearly spilling his drink. 'O-Oh, Father.'
'Your Majesty,' I say. Despite the setting, it still takes everything in me to resist tensing up and backing away.
'I'm glad that you were able to make it, Solana.'
I grit my teeth. 'Of course. I wouldn't miss it for anything.'
Viktor glances at the glass in Leonhard's hand. Then he shakes his head and smiles. 'Anyway, don't let me interrupt you. Enjoy yourselves.'
I cast a glance at the other girls. 'I'm surprised you were willing to join us, Your Majesty.'
'… Why, pray tell?'
I gesture to my companions with one thumb. 'I thought you didn't permit people to bear arms in your presence.'
He laughs, and it takes me aback. It sounds surprisingly genuine. 'Well, it would be impractical for you to lay down your arms every time we cross paths. Now that I've met you all, I'm willing to be more permissive.'
He passes me as he leaves, leaning down to whisper in my ear. His dress sword brushes against my leg. 'And none of you are a threat to me.'
A chill races down my spine, and I force myself to smile and nod. The king takes his leave, picking up a bottle of wine from a serving table as he walks away.
'Prince?' I ask. 'Are you going to finish that?'
Leonhard glances at his champagne flute. 'No –'
I swap his glass for my empty one and down half of it in one go. Leonhard's mouth falls open slightly. 'Are you all right?'
'Quite.'
I sag against the pillar, sipping champagne to steady my shaking hands, and watch the results of our efforts unfurl like flowers throughout the room. I wonder how many stars have to align in order for such a large family to gather in one place.
Bruno and Chiara pass by us. Chiara has a book under her arm, and I can see her miniature revolvers glimmering in her hair. For once, her restrained demeanour is absent, and she tugs on Bruno's sleeve, holding up the book she's carrying to show him.
Licht and Elle are on the other side of the room, leaning on the grand piano and talking to the pianist with infectious smiles. No doubt that the two of them are trying to influence the selection of what dance music will be played later this evening.
I can hear Kai and Daphne talking to Maxmilian and Ludwig from here. The four of them have drinks in their hands, and based on their hand gestures, they seem to be discussing fencing. As I watch them, I realise that Kai and Daphne really are alike. They don't just look similar – once you get to know them, then you get to witness their kindness and enthusiasm firsthand.
Adele doesn't seem to be able to stay in one place for more than a moment at a time. I see flashes of pink here and there in the ballroom, always followed immediately by Rin darting after her and staying in hot pursuit.
Eins, Yulenka and Rosenberg are standing together. I'm surprised that they can tolerate each other's company, let alone ours. I watch as Yulenka produces a metal flask from her sleeve and pours the three of them drinks. I hide my smile behind my glass as Eins and Rosenberg both realise – all too late – that the crystal-clear liquid is vodka. I hear Rosenberg coughing, followed by Yulenka's tinkling laugh. Eins holds out his glass again, and although she seems surprised, she pours him another.
Amelie walks past, and I cast my eyes around briefly for the king. 'Where's your charge?' I've lost count of how many times she's asked me that question, and it feels glorious to finally turn the tables.
She raises a well-manicured eyebrow. 'How many have you had?'
I narrow my eyes. Always quick with a retort. 'Don't tell me that you've already lost track of His Majesty, Amelie. There are only so many blond-haired men in military dress uniform here.'
'His Majesty said that he had something to attend to and dismissed me temporarily. You should really worry about your own charge.'
'Unlike yours, my charge is right here.'
'Solana –'
'Amelie, was it?' The queen mother approaches with a smile. 'I don't think we've met. Are you a friend of Viktor's?'
Amelie forces a smile and accompanies her, leaving Leonhard and I alone. 'An acquaintance …'
Verene strides past me, biting her nails.
'Is something wrong, Verene?' She doesn't answer right away, and push off the pillar, stepping towards her. 'Is this about earlier? I'm sorry if I –'
'What?' After a moment, she seems to recall our earlier quarrel. 'Oh. No. Don't worry about it. I'm glad you're here.' She smiles, but she still seems stressed.
'Where's your charge?' I joke.
'I can't find him anywhere.'
I stare at her. She stares back, and then she claps a hand over her mouth.
'Leonhard?' I say abruptly. 'Adele said that she was looking for you. Would you excuse us for a moment?'
'Huh? When did she say that?'
For once, luck is on our side, and Adele zooms past. 'Quick, or you'll miss her.'
'O-Okay – Adele!' Leonhard calls, chasing after her. 'Wait!'
The moment he's out of earshot, I pull Verene aside. 'You don't have a charge, Verene. What the hell are you talking about?'
'I-I never said that I had a charge.'
'I asked you where your charge was, and you said you couldn't find him.' I stare at her in disbelief. 'You're a stand-in. You don't have a charge …' My eyes widen. 'Do you?'
Verene has always been on the shorter side. She has red hair, messy and rough-cut. She looks young for her age. Her eyes appear amber in certain lights.
How could I have been so blind?
'I'm so sorry, Solana. I-I had confidential orders, and I answered your question without thinking. I didn't realise you were joking –'
'Hey, hey. Stop that. Don't blame yourself. Blame Amelie. I've told her that confidential orders only cause problems for us, but she still keeps giving them to us anyway.'
I grab a glass of champagne and press it into her hand. 'Here. Drink.' As she sips, trying to calm her nerves in the same way that I did moments earlier, I stare at the marble floor. My mind races.
When Heine escorted me to the party, he admitted that he had a drinking partner.
When Amelie crossed paths with me, she admitted that Viktor had sent her away.
Both the tutor and the king seem to have disappeared at the same time.
I exhale and squeeze her shoulder. '… I think I know where your charge is. You can calm down, but I need you to swap with me. Watch Prince Leonhard until I get back.'
'But –'
'No buts. I owe you a favour, and there's something I need to do.' I down one last glass of champagne for good luck and stride off, weaving my way through girls and princes alike. The musicians have started playing, and people have begun to dance. Amelie is still trapped in a conversation with the queen mother, and I escape her notice by diving through a servant's door.
I grit my teeth, take off my heels and begin to run, sprinting down hallways and up flights of marble steps until I reach the fourth floor of the palace. All the curtains should be closed at this time of night, yet I can see moonlight streaming across the carpet in front of me, shining through a balcony door.
I pad closer, approaching one of the windows beside the balcony door. I part the curtains the barest amount and look through the crack.
The king and the royal tutor are leaning against the balcony, wine glasses in hand, backlit by the stars.
I lean against the window and gasp for breath. My chest is still heaving. Amelie had been able to explain Viktor's absence, but hearing that Verene lost a charge that I didn't even know she had … it shocked me more than I would like to admit. Losing a principle is always terrifying – it doesn't matter whether they're my own or someone else's.
I quiet my breathing and listen, watching through the crack in the curtains.
'As much as the girls have been a welcome addition to the palace, their presence does make it more difficult for us to meet up.'
'You had no problem outsmarting the entire royal guard and escaping the palace as a child, Your Majesty. Don't tell me that your wits have dulled.'
'I was only able to find my way outside the palace walls because of you. You knew the streets like the back of your hand. And you don't have to call me that when we're alone.' Viktor tilts his glass, watching Heine out of the corner of his eye. 'Unless we're not actually alone.'
Heine glances at the window that I'm standing behind, and I freeze. After a moment, his gaze returns to the king. 'You'll have to forgive me. Given how many guests are in the palace, I can't help but feel that the walls have ears.'
I hold my breath, unable to move or let go of the curtains. The slightest movement could give away my position.
'As much as I could do this all night, we should probably rejoin the others.' Viktor drains his glass and walks towards the balcony door, with Heine following behind him. 'I fear I've already inconvenienced Amelie.'
Heine says something indistinguishable and follows him. I lower my head and step behind the curtain as the balcony doors open, listening in silence as Viktor walks right past me. I can only hear one set of footsteps.
The window flies open, and I'm yanked through, crashing to the marble. My arms are pinned down by my attacker's knees, and our hands interlock, fingernails digging in like claws.
My frantic fury is reflected in Heine's eyes. His amber irises are lit with a strange, sparking fire.
I push back, but his wiry frame belies a fierce strength. Neither of us gives an inch. 'Get off me.'
'Tell me what you were doing here.'
'You and the king both disappeared at the same time –'
'That doesn't concern you. Viktor has Amelie, and I don't need a guard.'
'Clearly,' I say through gritted teeth.
Heine's gaze hardens. 'Even if you came to find us out of concern, then you should have made yourself known.'
'You both knew I was there.'
'I knew you were there. But Viktor believed me when I told him otherwise.'
'"Viktor"?'
Heine's eyes flicker and widen. Then he lets me go as though he'd been burned and stands up. He watches in silence as I get to my feet and smooth down my dress. 'I've just saved you from a faux pas, yet you would hold mine over me regardless?'
'But it's not just a faux pas, is it?' I take a step towards him. 'And you're not just the royal tutor, are you?'
He gives me a sharp look. '… It's none of your concern. Don't you have a job to do?'
'I do. I do, but …' I put my hands together, digging my fingernails into my palms. 'You said that if I needed someone to talk to, then I would know where to find you.'
'You didn't come here to talk. You came here to satisfy your curiosity.'
'... Yes. That's true. I came here because I need answers. I'm looking for someone in Glanzreich.'
He crosses his arms over his chest. 'Are you hoping to find them by interrogating everyone in your path? By unturning every stone and following every red herring?'
'I'm hoping that if you know the city of Glanzreich as well as His Majesty says you do, then you may be able to help me.' His gaze tightens at the mention of the king, and I hold up my hands, begging him to listen. 'Please.'
He says nothing for a moment. '… You know that I'm not as young as I look. Just because I grew up in Glanzreich doesn't mean that I would know anything about the man you're looking for.'
'All I know about him is that he was well known in the underworld of Glanzreich. That's my only lead, and I … would be a fool to continue this search on my own.'
'And you think that I'm the kind of person who would have known this man? Someone who lived a life of sin in the underworld of Glanzreich?'
The weight of the words hangs in the silence.
'And so what if you are?' I say. 'I don't care about what you've done, nor do I have any right to judge. I only care about finding who I'm looking for.'
'I can see that.' Heine walks past me and steps through the balcony doors. 'Why do you want to find this person so badly? You have a successful career, and you've found a family among the Chatons.'
'I want to kill him.'
'And what makes you think that I will help you?'
'If you didn't want to help me, then why did you just shield me from the king and help me escape his notice?'
Heine grits his teeth. Then he exhales. 'I've been shielded from harm many a time in this palace. Despite your unclear intentions, you are still one of my students, and it would be remiss of me not to afford that same courtesy to someone else.' He flips open his pocket watch and stares at the crystal facets. 'I'm not going to help you kill someone. No matter what kind of life you think I used to live, I left my violent tendencies behind years ago. But I will help you look for your father ... on one condition.'
'What condition?'
Heine holds out his hand, asking me to cross over the threshold with him. 'Protect the princes until the end of the centennial celebrations. Complete your mission without abandoning it for the sake of your own objectives. Prove to me that you're truly capable of caring about others – about a goal beyond your own. Then – and only then – will I tell you what you want to know.'
I hesitate. 'Do you promise?'
'I promise. On my honour as the royal tutor.'
I take his hand and we step through the doors.
I can hear the sounds of clinking glasses and music, punctuated by a single, piercing thought as we descend the staircases, returning to the ballroom.
As we walk towards the princes, I ask, 'If I never told you who I was looking for … how did you know I was looking for my father?'
Heine gives me one last look. 'Like I said. Protect the princes, and I'll tell you what you want to know.'
'Solana?' Leonhard asks, shaking my shoulder. 'Where have you been?'
'Nowhere,' I say, staring at Heine as he disappears into the crowd. 'Nowhere, Prince … Just tying up some loose ends.'
The End
Notes:
Five years later – to the day – the saga of The Royal Bodyguard has finally concluded. Thank you all for your love and support! The story of the Chatons was originally intended to be much longer, but it was time to finally bring this 'chapter' to a close. Despite there always being a slim chance that I will revisit this project in the future ... for now, this is where Solana's story ends. If you have any questions about unresolved plot threads, please let me know! I hope that you enjoyed the adventures of Heine, the princes and the Chatons.
Regards,
- E
CrowHall on Chapter 16 Fri 13 Jun 2025 03:24PM UTC
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electrikitty_writes on Chapter 16 Sat 28 Jun 2025 11:09AM UTC
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