Month: June 2012

Alarice had to stifle her laughter as Robert suggested he stay behind in case Eirian somehow couldn’t find her way to them. His dark-haired partner, ever droll, suggested that perhaps she wouldn’t “do.” If she couldn’t locate the Princess when she was less than three feet in front of her; which, they literally would be when Eirian and her father exited the room. The halls at the palace were wide enough to accommodate four or five ladies with voluminous skirts walking side-by-side. They were wide enough that even when courtiers stopped to greet the Princess there was no stoppage of traffic.

 

The three of them stood patiently…well…Robert stood patiently. Herbert and she quickly resorted to discussing the fight – her mistakes, Eirian’s. “You haven’t been practicing.” Chastised Herbert who had her sword hanging on his hip. He was the only person she could ever imagine entrusting it to…for some reason, weapons and Princesses didn’t mix in the Lician court. “I haven’t particularly had time.” She replied, a little shortly. “Why don’t you try getting O…King Orion to add it onto my list of duties?” Herbert had no reply, only gave her an expecting look… “I’ll be able to practice regularly once I’m back in school. It’ll be the first thing I do on the first morning back, all right? I promise.”

 

“I’ll talk to the King about giving you a few sessions during this week. I’d feel a lot better about this entire thing if I knew you were ready to protect yourself too.”

“Her Highness has no need of being able to protect herself. She has us to watch over her and Miss. Lindval as well.”

“We can’t be there for her always.”

“It is our duty to do as such!”

 

Robert seemed irritated she thought; normally, he let Herbert go about his self-sufficiency rants without complaint (even the occasional agreement.) Even Herbert seemed to notice, but his response was…less than constructive.

 

“Your girlfriend made it in, Rob. Relax.”

 

Instinctively, Alarice smacked her hand lightly against the side of Herbert’s arm. But it was too late. Robert had gone from irritated to downright flustered.

 

“Eirian Lindval is a child, Herbert. She is my former pupil and now our co-worker. In no way has she or will she ever be my girlfriend. The very idea is laughable.”
“Testy.” Herbert grumbled into the Princess’s ear just as the doors swung open.

 

Clearly, someone in the room had called for the palace blacksmith – as one of his attendants was approaching Eirian with a request for her meteor hammer and assuring her that they would return it to her quickly. “Miss. Lindval,” She smiled at the young woman. “In the meantime, would you care to join us for afternoon tea?”

 

“I’d be honored, your Highness.”

 

Behind the two women Robert and Herbert were laughing to themselves – a welcome sight given Robert’s very recent snap. Alarice raised a questioning glance at Herbert, who shrugged dramatically and walked up to her to offer her his arm. With a gentle pat she informed him she’d prefer to walk with “Miss. Lindval, if you don’t mind Herbert.” To which he replied in the old language of Deamone, a tongue not at all commonly found in Licia but which her nursemaids had (inexplicably at the time) insisted on teaching her. His response was something to the effect “I’ll just have to escort Robert then, Princess. Do you think he’d want to be the gentleman or the lady?” Which, in turn elicited a laugh as she looped her own arm through Eirian’s. Robert, having begun to pick up tiny bits of the language over their time together gave a short, awkward sort of chuckle…the kind one gives when one is not actually free to laugh but feels inclined to do so anyway.

 

Despite herself, she felt a sort of giddy excitement at the prospect of finally having female companionship. It hadn’t exactly been a group of her peers that had raised her – all older women and one older footman who scorned at all but the most necessary of conversations. She was good at playing the part of the proper Court Lady with the others when it was expected of her – but there was something immensely tedious about it all. And while Herbert and Robert were kind, if overprotective, they weren’t exactly the type of company she felt she could gab to in the way she watched other girls her age do.

 

“Robert has told us some things about you. But it’s quite different to hear about a person from another party than it is from the person themselves. Please , tell us about yourself.”

“Well…I attended the Royal Academy starting at eleven. Mr…Ward was my squad’s mentor and leader…”

 

Herbert chuckled, raking a hand through his dark hair as a few courtesans stopped to giggle at the sight of the two handsome men flanking Eirian and herself. He liked to play up to the image in the court, but sometimes it caused problems. She’d already had a stern talk with him about not flirting with Eirian and hopefully it’d sunk it. “I think what her Highness meant was to ask about your personal interests. What little Robert hadn’t already bragged about we discussed for two hours prior to your admittance to the review meeting.” Alarice bit back a smile and Robert appeared to look as disconcerted as possible. “Bragging implies the impressive statements have no merit, Herbert.”

 

“I think we’d all agree Miss. Lindval has merit, Rob. There’s no need to get so uppity. Geesh.”

 

She was used to their back and forth banter. At first, it’d caused her genuine distress…the two men were so opposite each other that it seemed it would be impossible for them to get along. But their shared purpose and ultimately similar dutiful natures had bonded them fairly quickly. They seemed to have civilizing influences on each other. Robert had been almost robotic, practically suicidal in his overzealous dedication to his job. Herbert too had a broody aura of heavily burdened purpose when he’d come to his job. It was true that they’d bonded quickly enough once reunited, but the addition of Robert to their mix had given Herbert license to hope. So, rather than brood (as would have been his tendency) Robert just grinned at his partner and continued along with him, Eirian and herself as they headed towards her suite.

 

“I…am quite partial to…reading and study, Highness. Ah…expanding my knowledge of unfamiliar subjects…”

 

She thought she could hear a hushed, breathy chuckle behind them but at this point the halls were so filled with courtiers and buzzing servants that it could have easily been her imagination. “I’m quite fond of reading myself, Miss. Lindval. Perhaps we can give the Royal Library at school some much needed attention.”

 

It took the some time to move through the palace, especially when she had to stop so often so as to not slight anyone at court. Within the palace walls, she was expected to pay respect to everyone to whom respect was owed. At least in the gardens, a passing nod would do. Luckily, the novelty of the recent events kept most of the stops to well wishes and expressions of concern for her safety. Eventually, they left the public floors and reached her own. There were several ways to her rooms, the one they took this time did not lead her past Francois Moreau’s a fact that she regretted considerably. Never mind – if she planned on getting away with visiting him later, she had to fulfill her duties now.

 

Soon, they were seated in the small dining area of her floor. Because it was that off time between breakfast and lunch, the larger dining table was gone and in its place was a more intimate tea table. Atop it sat several silver trays of pastries and small tea sandwiches: Cucumber, watercress, turkey, Chicken and artichoke and various cheese spread sandwiches. A selection of maids are available, most of them borrowed from the school. Their golden skirts swept the floor as she entered the room and swished against their legs as the pulled out chairs for Eirian and herself. “Thank you.” She murmured. There were no menus in the palace, foods were made to order – so she calmly placed her order, waiting for Eirian to finish doing the same before continuing with her line of small talk.

 

“I understand your father works for General Sewe’s family, Miss. Lindval. Is that how you came about your military aspirations?”

“Yes. The Lindvals have traditionally been successful in guarding, and it had always been my intention to follow that path, as well. My father is…a very inspiring man, to me.”

“I see.” She nodded in response to Eirian. “How proud he must be of you.” The Princess added on, proud herself at the only slight twinge of sadness that crept into the statement. “And what do you do when you are not training?”

 

“More training?” Suggested Herbert. Already the food had arrived and all but one of the maids had left. Perhaps a little too casually, he dropped himself onto the seat next to her and lifted a sandwich from off her plate with a winsome grin.

 

“Studying…actually.” Replied Eirian, who seemed perhaps a touch uncomfortable. “Herbert’s company is an acquired taste.” Robert called from his corner of the room. Unlike Herbert – he didn’t care to join them for meals. He’d cave more and more often at school when they were all running from classes to paperwork to meetings like scared rats but never at the palace. “Quite.” She agreed, giving Herbert a warning glance. “But he’s perfectly harmless.”

 

Herbert just smiled his easy smile and grabbed another bite off of her plate – she’d ordered them for him more than for herself. “And surprisingly adept at his job for all the sandwiches he eats.” Robert joked, his face impassive save for the slight twist of his lips.

 

“Am I?” Herbert blinked, quickly accepting the glass of water the maid handed him without having to be asked. “Rob…I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Does…does this mean we’re friends now?”

 

Robert merely ignored his partner, though the hint of a smile never left his lips. Alarice watched Eirian sympathetically. Certainly, it couldn’t have been easy to suddenly be thrown into this group. Especially not when they behaved as they did when alone – that is, so completely differently from how they behaved to the public eye. Unfortunately, Herbert seemed keen on increasing the discomfort.

 

“Miss. Lindval, I must say – your hair has grown out quite beautifully.”

 

Instantly, Robert’s and Eirian’s faces appeared to flush; a mirror reaction which amused the Princess considerably and caused both herself and Herbert to laugh softly for a second. “I…I really must apologize for Herbert, Miss. Lindval. I think we were both a little curious to see how your hair recovered from the incident.”

 

“I…incident?”

Alarice smiled as reassuringly as she could manage. “Ah…the induction process of the Academy involves regulatory haircuts?”

“Yes, Highness. It does. But…what…incident?”

 

She and Herbert glanced at Robert expectantly. His face was still a mask of serenity, albeit one with a few cracks visible to the trained eye.

 

“I had not expected to meet my cadets on that particular day, Miss. Lindval. I took note of your…stoicism during the regulation process and was impressed. I believe that is the incident to which her Highness and Mr. Dubhan refer.”

 

“Robert isn’t easily impressed.” Explained Herbert, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin and polishing off the water. When he was done, he strode back to the man in question and cocked his head in his direction. “So, suffice to say that his high regard of you means quite a bit to us.”

 

Us Alarice’s mind repeated, making her smile. Herbert had once told her that Prince Dwayne had shared his belief that, had they grown up together, she and Herbert would have been raised to treat each other as siblings. It wasn’t necessary. As soon as they had been reunited, they’d fallen into that pattern and remained that way ever since. It was nothing against Robert, though she knew it bothered him sometimes, but Herbert Dubhan was the only other keeper of her secrets inside the Palace walls. And the other one was…well…elsewhere.

 

Teatime was over sooner than she would have liked. Unlike most court ladies, Eirian had only seemed shy…not removed or cold or judgmental, particularly when it came to the way she acted around her guards. It was not usual, she knew, for noble ladies to speak to their guards. Let alone have them nicking sandwiches off their plates or throwing inside jokes back and forth. It was a closeness she was thankful for and one she hoped to extend to the young blonde woman.

 

“This has been lovely, Miss. Lindval.” She said, placing her napkin on the table and ascending. “But I’m afraid I have something to attend to. I shall look forward to continuing our acquaintance tomorrow.”

“Your schedule has nothing until your dinner meeting, Princess.” Robert interrupted, looking at her quizzically.

“I intend to visit Mr. Moreau, Robert.”

“Is that wise…Highness?”

 

Robert rarely questioned her actions. He almost never complained about the time she spent among her plants or books or about her occasional disregard for protocol. So it took her by surprise when he did…of course, she knew why.

 

“Given the state he was in last night? I think so.”

“The maids and nurses will look after him, Princess.” He continued to press, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“Like they looked after him last night?” Herbert snorted. “The boy was half dead with fever Robert. I had to let the nurse go, she said she didn’t think it was prudent to attend to the savage third realmer. Even though he saved her future sovereign’s life.”

“It is the duty of all citizens of Licia and Deamone and those who pledge fealty to the Princess to give up their lives for her if necessary.” Robert quipped, sounding like a manual on propriety.

“Robert…” Alarice finally interrupted. She’d stood quietly as he and Herbert argued but that last statement had done it. In a span of twenty-four hours, one man had died because of her (and her Uncle), another had almost died to protect her and two more had asserted they would have done the same. It left a bad taste in her mouth. “Can you deny that every injury, even bit of pain that Mr. Moreau is suffering was intended for myself?”

“No, Princess. I cannot. However…It is the honor of…”

“Yes. I know.” She mumbled irritably. “It is also the honor of the sovereign to observe noblesse oblige. He travels to Licia from the third realm to pledge his loyalty and the least I can do is insure he recovers smoothly from the injury he sustained while preserving my life. What kind of Queen will I make if I expect others to suffer for me and am not willing to go out of my way to ease that suffering as much as possible?”

“Princess…”

“I want to hear no more objections regarding my attending Mr. Moreau. I owe him a great debt and I intend to pay it off.” Her eyes softened and she walked up to Robert and patted his hand. “Don’t fret so, Rob. I promise I won’t do anything unseemly. Why don’t you see to it that Miss. Lindval recovers her weapon and returns safely home?” She turned her eyes to Eirian, who’d been put in the unfortunate situation of having to witness their first spat of the school year. “Excuse me, Miss Lindval. I hope you have a pleasant day.”

 

She held onto Herbert’s arm, who chuckled as they walked towards Francois’ room that she’d “sure told him.” Quietly, she inquired as to whether or not Herbert had seen to it that Francois and his attendant be provided with medicine and food. “They should be drawing his bath now.” He confirmed, knocking on the door on her behalf – though his trademark impatience made him open the door before a reply was made. Still smiling, she let go of her guard and slipped into the room to find the-savior-of-her life sitting up on the edge of the bed. Stretched before him was the arm that had become recently acquainted with quite a bit of poison, medicine and a fair share of needles.

 

“Mr. Moreau.” She said, trying suppressing what threatened to be a rapidly spreading flush across her cheeks. “Good afternoon. You seem much recovered. How wonderful. Do…do you mind if I take a look?” Focusing her eyes soley on the general area of his wound,

 

“Not at all.” He said, seemingly unaware of his state of (un)dress. Tentatively, she strode towards him and knelt down a little to be at eye level with the wound. From the looks of it, the new nurse (a male – Herbert had told her, less afraid of being ravaged than any female nurse) had seen to his task relatively well. The swelling and mottled color was considerably improved. She let her still-gloved hands run over the path she’d stung along his arm and shoulder and found that they had resulted in no hard nodules. “It’s healing very well.” She commented, breathing a small sigh of relief. It was a job well done she had to admit, especially given how long it’d been since she’d had to give emergency first aid.

 

“It’s a privilege and a pleasure to see you again, Your Highness.”

“You’re mistaken. The privilege is mine, Mr. Moreau.” She smiled up at him, releasing his arm and clasping her hands in front of herself.

 

There’d been something strange about the ripple of his muscles and the way they moved underneath her fingertips – but she said nothing. His attendant, still silent, stood in the room as well unnoticed until she’d risen. “I…have been meaning to ask. What is your…companion’s name? I’m afraid I have not had much success communicating with him. He has been most dutiful and I’d like to thank him for it.”

 

“His name is Edouard. I’m afraid he’s not much one for chatter…” He laughed, a sparkle in his eye that automatically made her want to laugh as well…though she settled for a smile “His knowledge is limited in regards to any of the more common tongues.”

“Then I must ask you to thank him for me.” Oh wait. “And…I don’t believe I’ve properly thanked you for saving my life.”

“Please…no thanks are necessary. You’ve shown more than enough kindness in the stead of one. And, regardless, it was not an action I would even need to think twice of repeating.”

 

She couldn’t stop the frown in time, she knew. That would be the third person today. She thought guiltily. “The necessity could be debated. Your deserving of any assistance I might provide could not be.” She murmured, a little more demure than before. “But I thank you nonetheless.” Herbert peeked into the room then, or rather, pretended not to do so as he casually opened a door for a maid. This one was clearly a Northerer, like Robert, with her thick brogue. Dipped into a deep curtsey she informed her Mr. Moreau’s bath was drawn and ready “…as well as one for his …companion…Highness.”

 

“Forgive me Mr. Moreau. I took the liberty of requesting it. It would be best if the wound was kept clean…” She explained, “If you and Mr…Edouard would follow Miss. Kent I’ve also ensured that a change of clothing be provided for you both.”

 

When the two men were gone, Herbert joined her. “I already asked for someone to come in with what you asked for: entertainment stuff, flowers, reading material, movies, snacks. Need help changing the sheets?” He knew her too well, sometimes.

 

“I think I can manage.” She smiled, completing the task faster than last night and having just folded off the discarded bedding when the rest of the things came in. She took care in arranging everything around the room. She’d opened one of the larger windows to let in fresh air and was neatly tying back the curtains when Francois Moreau returned, looking worlds better.

 

“Mr. Moreau, Mr. Edouard. I hope your bath was pleasant.” She felt herself breaking eye contact quickly and motioning to the changes. “I’ve taken more liberties, I’m afraid. I hope you will consent to stay until you’ve fully recovered and that the room is to your liking.” Straightening her shoulders determinedly she began to make for the exit. “I should…leave you to your rest, I think. Mr. Moreau. Unless there is anything else I can do for you?”

Francois found the night to have been good to him. A heavy weakness still leaded his legs and created a thick heaviness in his skull—a veil that served to separate Francois from the lingering fever that plagued him. It was nothing that he couldn’t handle. In fact, Francois could just imagine Fernand joking about hangovers that they have had which had been worse. That was, if Fernand had been at all in a jovial mood. Even when the brothers had been graced with privacy (not terribly hard, considering how thankful the majority of the staff was to avoid them), Fernand’s legs had been ailing him, so his mood had shifted expertly and eagerly into the stony-faced stoicism of Edouard. It didn’t make for very good conversation. Of course, there was no way that Francois could blame the man; he’d been in the costume before, and it hardly allowed for comfort.

As a result, Francois had taken to thought. It was much easier to think, now, despite the small bursts of soreness that would take him when he tried to move himself too ambitiously. Staring at his hands, flexing his finger, he questioned his own motives. He had been sure, the night before, that he had not been emotionally compromised when he had jumped in front of the poison dart…but now Francois wasn’t so sure that the excuse he had given Fernand hadn’t been anything but feeble. In truth, Francois wasn’t precisely sure…why. It was as if his body had moved of its own accord, reflexively. Part of him knew that Fernand had been right—he had been playing hero, but Francois didn’t want to admit that.

And Francois supposed it couldn’t be denied that this had turned into a remarkable opportunity. Why not take the credit? It would more likely keep them in their employer’s good grace—and the gods only knew that one didn’t want to fall out of Duncan Deamone’s favor. Besides, Francois thought, it doesn’t matter how I go about this. As long as the result is the same.

Deep in thought, the tan young man hardly heard the door open, his golden irises flicking upward only at the sound of the familiar voice. Immediately, Francois mirrored her trained smile, thanking his stars that he was coherent enough now to more easily control his thoughts and actions—and separate the two. It was with some satisfaction that he noted the abashed, yet subdued, way that she gazed upon him—more a girl than a Princess, but trying all the same not to blur those lines. Francois had to force himself not to chuckle. The girl-Princess and the boy-spy. How quaint.

The thought perplexed him as much as it amused him, but Francois did his best not to dwell on it as he calmly allowed Alarice to inspect his arm. They talked a little—nothing of much consequence. The progression of his health and his gentle flattery concerning the pleasure of seeing her again (and so soon), her official thanks toward his selfless actions and his courteous reply. But Francois had to admit…when he had proclaimed his willingness to take the assassination attempt in her stead, something in the Princess had seemed perturbed. Not that it was anything he could precisely place, and thus he filed it as inconsequential. After all, he doubted he’d be given any real reason to do so again in the near future. Her guards would be even more alert than before.

It was with thankfulness that surprised even himself that Francois hobbled off with Edouard to the bath that had been prepared for them. He shot one more smile over his shoulder at the Princess, after thanking her for her consideration, before disappearing after Ms. Kent. It wasn’t long before they were left alone to wash themselves—Francois found himself eternally grateful for the indifference (or outright aversion) of the staff. He certainly didn’t want some random women fussing over his bath—and he knew that as much as Fernand may have enjoyed it, he certainly couldn’t afford letting anyone see him out of disguise. Not that the fact stopped him from all but lounging in his own tub with an audible sigh, and inching his fingers underneath the wig and allowing his colorful locks—identical to Francois’—to come tumbling readily down his shoulders.

While Francois didn’t waste any time bathing, scrubbing himself thoroughly and efficiently and hardly taking the chance to savor the water, Fernand practically soaked, lazily content. Francois supposed that was easily enough for him to do—he wasn’t the one who had gotten poisoned, and who now had the increased pressure of having to remain in-character without the reprieve of disguise. But, despite his troubled thoughts, Francois could feel his muscles relax underneath the soothing waves of hot water.

Before too long, the duo was out and dressed—naturally, Fernand took longer to prepare himself, needing to dry his hair and re-implement his disguise. It was fortunate that the legs of the new pair of clothing that had been provided for him was long enough to cover the stilts of his modified boots. Francois had to concede that he felt better—levels better than he had all morning or all night. One didn’t realize exactly how grimy they were until they were clean again.

“Mr. Moreau, Mr. Edouard. I hope your bath was pleasant.”

The Princess greeted the two men the instant they had been escorted back to the room, and Francois’ smile was soft as they both silently expressed their thanks.

“I’ve taken more liberties, I’m afraid. I hope you will consent to stay until you’ve fully recovered and that the room is to your liking.”

As Francois followed Alarice’s eyes to observe the chances she pointed out to him, Edouard re-established himself to his position. His smile became a positive grin as he spotted a neat spread of movies resting on his bedside table. Taking the few steps that divided him from it, Francois ran his hand across them until they came to a stop upon one case—for no particular reason. He held it up just as she began to make for the exit. “I should…leave you to your rest, I think. Mr. Moreau. Unless there is anything else I can do for you?”

Francois held up the movie in response—The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Dramatic, but sweet. Nothing to overtly sentimental, and Francois wasn’t particularly a fan of comedy. “Stay and watch this with me? Movies are much more enjoyable with good company.”

The Princess seemed to hesitate for an instant, as if unsure whether or not she had the luxury of staying for a couple of hours, but then smiled, her eyes sweeping down to her dainty gloved hands before she answered in the affirmative. “Let me just inform my—”

She made a move to tell her dark-haired guard outside the door her wish to stay, but he nodded immediately. Efficient, Francois thought.

The Princess pulled a chair beside his bed as Francois sat himself back down upon it—his head thanking him for the reprieve from standing. Almost as soon as the movie began, large baskets of popcorn were swept into the room courtesy of the staff (naturally, Francois offered his thanks), and Alarice politely offered some to her guard, who took—Francois noticed—a large helping for himself. He made a mental note. Familiar, too.

Truth be told, Francois’ heart wasn’t really in the movie. He flashed a glance at Edouard, who returned it. Francois could feel the unspoken approval. Every chance to spend time with her only helped them. That said, he tried hard to pay attention—or at least appear to—but couldn’t help but watch as the fair young woman beside him silently pulled one thin glove from her hand and lay it upon her voluminous skirts. That was when Francois noticed a white kernel that had gotten lodged in her silken chocolate strands, and had to bite back a bemused chuckle.

“Pardon me, Princess,” he practically cooed, “but would you mind…holding quite still for just a moment?”

Gently, he reached forward and touched his fingertips to her hair, curling them around the stray kernel and sliding it down, her hair slipping through his fingers like water until only the popcorn sat in his hand. His eyes had remained locked with her glittering greens until the deed was done, and then he smiled, holding up the evidence. “One got lost.”

Her measured stare almost rattled him. “Mr. Moreau,” she breathed steadily, “Why did you jump in front of that assassin?”

It was a question…but it wasn’t. It was more than just a question. Francois had the feeling that his answer had the possibility to change their relationship as it was beginning to bud. He could feel several calculated responses spinning out through the gears of his mind.

And Francois decided to tell her the truth.

“Because I knew I could stop a girl from getting hurt when she hadn’t done a thing to warrant it.” He kept her gaze, but it softened indefinitely as he quietly admitted, “if I may be so bold…I would have done the same had you just been a stranger on the street, fealty or not. I can’t stand…permitting violence to go unchecked when I could easily do something to prevent it.”

Francois cleared his throat and broke his gaze away. He noticed his hands had drifted toward her own ungloved one as he had spoken, of their own accord, but brought them smoothly back to his sides before any damage could be done. “Forgive me,” he sighed, “I hope I hadn’t spoken too frankly.”

There was something heart fluttering about his smile though Alarice refused to acknowledge it as more than a passing moment of teenage-hormone induced bashfulness. Francois Moreau’s boyish, grinning and wholly inappropriate request almost made her forget her place…almost. It was true that her schedule was officially free of engagements, King Orion having decided that she should rest and recover after “the incident.” Thus far resting and recovering consisted of one early morning Kendo session, a quiet breakfast with the King, meeting, sparring and shocking Eirian Lindval, scolding Robert and playing hostess to Mr. Moreau and his guest. A movie sounded…nice. It brought a smile to her face and she agreed.

 

“Let me just inform my—” Herbert must have thought it was a good idea too because his normal attitude about her spending alone time (without him – rendering it less alone than she’d prefer) was replaced by one of gentle encouragement. Or at least as much gentle encouragement as Herbert could fit into a nod and the order of popcorn that joined them soon after she’d taken a seat. He’d only had a few of the tea sandwiches and was eyeing the popcorn with a look of well-disguised want. With a smile she offered it to him, popcorn would be difficult enough to consume with her gloves, and he took it with a friendly grin before returning to his post at the door.

 

Adopting the passive, gentle posture that was all but required to sit through endless court and council meets – she tried to watch the movie. Of course, mother daughter talks and a dying mother quickly made her eyes wander down to the popcorn sitting on her lap. After some thought she realized it would be all but impossible to eat with gloves – the flawless fabric would have absorbed the butter most uncomfortably. So, with mixed feelings of embarrassment (that Francois Moreau had seen her bare hands twice now – a sight which only Herbert and Robert had been allowed for years) and annoyance (that she should feel embarrassed about baring her HAND at all) she gently pried the short white glove from her left hand.

 

“Pardon me, Princess,” His surprisingly smooth voice murmured. “but would you mind…holding quite still for just a moment?” The “lost” piece of popcorn taken care of she felt her eyes unable to move away from his. There were floating specks of bright yellow, darker golds and hazels all forming a stunning contrast against the sharpness of his pupils. People had long told her that her eyes were beautiful, though the truth of it was that her eyes were transparent – like all Deamone Royals the depth, color and clarity of her eyes was determined by her mood, her strength and her energy at any given moment. But Francois Moreau’s eyes, sharp and piercing were to her altogether unsettling and stunning. So stunning, perhaps, that she couldn’t help what came out of her mouth next.

 

“Mr. Moreau, Why did you jump in front of that assassin?” It wasn’t something she’d intended to ask. Actually, it was something that she actively avoided thinking about. Her avoidance made her feel even worse when Francois Moreau’s answer relieved of a guilt she didn’t know she’d been holding in. His “Frank” and admirable response hit somewhere close to home, honesty, straightforwardness and an equal respect for all lives weren’t common in the Lician court. Suddenly, she had a whole new respect for the man beside her. And respect meant truth.

 

“There’s nothing to forgive Mr. Moreau. I would always prefer to hear a frank truth than a beautiful lie.”

 

Absently, the hand that had come to rest on his beside moved up to brush the previously popcorn adorned strand of hair back in place. On the journey she could have sworn she felt her hand skim his – though she pretended not to notice. The movie’s gentle buzz, Herbert and possibly Robert in the hall and the eyes of his assistant around them forgotten, she whispered softly…

 

“Herbert….Mr. Dubhan,” Her eyes flickered towards the shadow cast by the dark haired man “has been injured on my account more times than I care to remember. Though, I don’t think I will ever be able to forget any of them.” Her voice stayed steady and soft as she spoke, carefully measured so as to not let anyone but Francois hear her. “The father of my Lician head of guard Mr. Ward was injured at the Academy where young soldiers are trained to value my life and that of the King’s above their own. He too bears wounds I’d rather forget. Due to yesterday’s…incident…today his former cadet, a woman but a year older than myself declared that she would rather forfeit her own life than endanger mine. And her reward was to be granted a job that almost guarantees that one day it may come down to that possibility. Her former mentor, Mr. Ward then proceeded to lecture me on why it is “the duty of all citizens of Licia and Deamone and those who pledge fealty” like yourself, to sacrifice yourselves for me.”

 

There was a measured pause as she sighed heavily. These were words that she’d longed to speak…but to who? Certainly not Herbert who was just as willing to sacrifice his life for her as Robert, as Eirian and as they all believed others should be. Not the King, or courtiers, or the military men and women who had themselves gone through the Academy training. Of course, soon enough she realized just whom she WAS speaking the words too and she felt her face grow hot and red.

 

“I’m sorry.” She said, bringing a bright and placid smile to her lips. Alarice was thankful of all the hours spent training that she could call upon the calm face of politician when her emotions were so muddled in her head. “Now I have spoken out of turn.”

 

“You have nothing to apologize for…but I like to believe that the men and women who pledge their lives to a sovereign do so because they have hope in the ideals that the sovereign represents. With so many individuals pledging their fealty to you, Princess, you must inspire a remarkable amount of hope… At least, that’s what I see.”

 

Gently, without thinking she reached out and touched Francois’ arm. “You’re very eloquent Mr. Moreau. I shall have to do my best to live up to the ideals I represent, to deserve such loyalty from my people and kindness from yourself.” Her smile was easier now, more genuine. After another moment she replaced her hand on her lap with an additional “Thank you.”

 

Not wanting to keep the moment as serious as it had become she held up her popcorn in the general direction of Edouard. “Would you like some popcorn, Edouard?” She asked – though his staring and silent response (or lack of) let her guess he didn’t. “Perhaps later.” She mused with a soft smile, returning her attention to the film.

 

As the scene on the screen became more adult, it took all her willpower not to avert her eyes. Used as she might have been to Herbert and Robert’s naked torsos, there was currently one very near to her that she was not-so used to viewing. “Mr. Moreau. If you don’t mind I’d like to know more about you. I’m afraid that at the moment all I really know is that you’re a brave, eloquent young man who has pledged fealty to me and hails from…if I’m not mistaken….the…southwestern third realm bordering Deamone.”

 

“That is correct. You’re very observant…” His reply made her smile sadly, not always. The Princess found herself thinking as he went on with a chuckle.

 

“But I’m afraid that there isn’t much of interest to talk about where I’m concerned. I live with my mother and spend most of my days caring for her. She suffered from a severe spinal cord injury when I was young and has a hard time getting by on her own.”

 

“Is she well…with you here?” Alarice asked softly, feeling a pang of guilt at having the woman’s son here recovering from injury when he may very well have been safe and caring for her. “She prefers the solitude, so we downsized greatly after my father passed. But she agreed to take on a maid before I left.”

 

“And are you a fan of solitude, Mr. Moreau? Mr….Edouard seems a loyal companion.”

 

No one but Herbert ever seemed to smile as easily with her as Francois seemed to have taken to doing. It was a welcome change…most of the ways he was different were.

 

“I think everyone is a fan of solitude at times and I am certainly no exception. But I do enjoy having a companion or two.”

 

“And how did you two come into each other’s acquaintance?” It was a bit odd to speak about someone in the room with them – who could or would not speak for themselves. Granted, it was something she’d been subjected to often and she was more sensitive to it than most.

 

“I found him wounded in the jungle when we were both rather young. I couldn’t get much out of him, but I was able to make out enough that he had gotten attacked by some sort of animal, and it didn’t seem as if he had any family. I took him home and cared for his wounds, and he’s stayed with me ever since. I think he seems to believe he owes me his life.”

 

“You’ve quite a heroic streak Mr. Moreau. I’m thankful then, to know you and have your loyalty.”

 

Feeling like you owed someone your life was something she could understand…how many people was she indebted to now? Alarice wanted to be less inquisitive, really – but there was one more question floating around in her head that she wanted the answer to.

 

“And what are your plans for your stay in Licia?”

“I’ll be attending the Licia School at the start of the term.”

 

This took her by surprise. “Is that so? I do not believe you attended last year, when I started my studies there. Congratulations. It is a great honor to be invited to study there.” She could hear the tone of amusement in her own voice – the kind of thing that only those poor souls who had been subjected to Licia School’s unorthodox method could know. “It is…an interesting learning environment.”

The movie continued on for some time, the dancer’s lithe body reminding her a little too much of another elegant dancer. Every once in a while Francois Moreau would ask her questions, which she answered as honestly as public backstories and the thickly veiled language of the Lician Court allowed. At some point, she could hear Robert’s voice in the hall. Just before he stepped in and announced his belief that she should not remain “unsupervised” Alarice slipped her hand back into the glove. His sharp eyes stayed on the two and the conversation trickled off to little more than polite responses on her end. She’d given Robert a hard enough time earlier. Towards the tail end of the film, another visitor joined them…The King.

 

“My King.” She murmured demurely as she dipped into a low curtsy and rose in time to place a hand on Francois Moreau’s shoulder – even the King wouldn’t force an injured man to stand just to bow.

 

“Princess.” He replied, lowering his head and bowing in return. “I had hoped to seek your advice on the military review tomorrow, but I was told you were entertaining company.”

 

“Yes my King. May I present Francois Moreau and his companion – Edouard?”

 

Orion spared a polite smile for the bedridden third realmer, no such thing for his savage companion.

 

“Mr. Moreau. I hope the Princess has extended an invitation to stay until you have fully recovered. The Crown is in your debt.”

 

“Yes, your Majesty. She has.”

 

“Excellent.” The older man gazed about the scene they’d created, popcorn and a movie with a chair at the man’s bedside. She knew what he’d say before he said it – of course he would, it was the newest thing available to him to rattle her.

 

“Mr. Ward I think we can trust the Princess to behave appropriately with her guest. Join Mr. Dubhan at his post outside.”

 

“Majesty.” Replied Robert, who was still on his knee and would be until the King left.

 

“After all, now that she has taken on a handmaiden and agreed to be betrothed I doubt she would behave salaciously. Not…” He continued, eyes sparkling and smile precisely uplifted. “That our fair heir is capable of such a thing. Is that not right right Princess?”

 

If their smiles had been sword they would have been equally matched. “I’ve no intention to endanger the marriage agreement, My King. Shall I see you at supper?”

 

“Indeed Highness. I shall look forward to your thoughts on the matter of the review.” If he had not been gliding out of the room, Orion would have not appeared to have been leaving as he bid the room’s inhabitants a good day and left – his thunderous guard behind him. Daintily as she could when her blood had gone cold, for she had not yet bothered to tell Herbert or Robert the news (it had not seemed appropriate to do so given the circumstances of the past day), she settled herself down into the chair.

 

Unfortunately, Robert seemed to have forgotten his orders and stood there staring at her with the smallest of gapes. Herbert appeared at the door and gave her a pointed stare, which she replied to with an airy sigh. “Can I help you, Mr. Dubhan?”

 

“What the hell was that?” He said, dropping the formalities and appearing to forget that it was not just the three of them. “What was what Herbert?” Alarice replied, ignoring her gloves and popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth as she pretended to watch the movie. “Don’t play Princess with me you know damn well what I’m talking about.”

 

“Language Herbert.” She hummed, though whatever response he had cooked up was promptly interrupted. “That’s enough Herbert. Perhaps we can discuss this later.” Robert said, remembering himself and grabbing Herbert by the arm. “Princess, supper will be in an hour’s time and in the greater dining room. You will need time to dress more appropriately.”

 

“Movie’s almost over Mr. Ward, thank you.” She all but laughed as the two men retreated to what had almost certainly become a hall of confusion. “I’m sorry about that.” Alarice murmured to Francois. Just how many people was Herbert going to unsettle today?

The deposed Deamone prince reveled in the way Jacqueline Triean’s legs went tight around his waist as he groaned into her neck. She clearly took care to maintain her physique…he would have had much less use for her over the years if she hadn’t. Her supple, lean body felt good against his hardened one. It was even better when it was under him for the purposes of alleviating his frustration. His warm, soft lips trailed down her collarbone to the full, lushness of her breasts and finally the hardened buds of her nipples. With a wry grin he circled one with his tongue, the other caught and flicked back and forth between this thumb and forefinger. “It has been far too long, Madam Triean.”

“My Lord?” Called Milina’s voice from outside the heavy door that barred her entry into his bedchamber. “Master Rubin has arrived…”

Duncan rolled his eyes and pulled back. He grasped one of Jaqueline’s aforementioned legs and drew it lazily over his shoulder. As his hands ran down from her breasts, sides, hips, thighs and up her long legs her resounding moan brought a soft smile to his lips. “And far too short.” His eyes focused onto hers, he let his cheek slide back down until his mouth brushed against the crook of her thighs. “You can see yourself out I trust?” He murmured never once breaking eye contact even as his tongue slid further…and further down…

…

One quick shower, assisted by some lovely new maids from the south later and Duncan Deamone was walking through the servant’s quarters with his most loyal (male) assistant. The ignorable, black and grey clad background-people tended to drop into a bow or avert their eyes at the sight of their former leader. Now, he was given only as much respect as any elected Lord would have – it disgusted him that some thought that was all he deserved.

“Milina tells me the boy has not yet mastered any of his powers. That he’s a failure in matters of history, politics and protocol and that his most redeeming quality is that he tries hard.”

It wasn’t a question so much as a complaint. Not one for the boy’s tutor and future-guard, but for the boy himself. Thus far he had proven himself unworthy of bearing the Deamone name, the money that had been funneled into his education and preparation. For a blip of a second he found himself wishing that he could feel secure in bringing Helen out of the shadows…maybe then he’d have an heir worthy of succession. But no – he needed his precious trump card in case the boy proved an even greater failure than he already was. After all, as the older twin she had a greater claim. He had only presented the boy as the eldest to ensure a male succession. Suddenly, that seemed much less important that ensuring a competent and loyal puppet.

“He’s weak. And he will need to be guarded carefully lest he fall to the…influences of that place. You’ve gotten my notes on whom he is to avoid. The halfbreed bitch, the blood traitor guard, the headmistress are all to have as little contact with him as possible. And remember. You are to avoid the Arre woman, but take care not to agitate her. It would be more trouble than its worth.”

“Yes, My lord.”

“You’re a good man, Rubin. Better than most and that is why I’m trusting you with this duty. I would not part with you for anything less. I don’t enjoy being surrounded by imbeciles.” To prove his point he waved his hands around the room, sending nervous maids scurrying like roaches. They’d ended up in the receiving rooms – where large packages were inspected and sent through the palace to suit their various purposes. It was also just the place to serve his.

“But you’ll be needing some brute strength. Perhaps more brute than strength. You’re well trained and you could handle a muscle man on your own…of that there is no doubt. But it is far more difficult to watch over someone else and yourself than it is only yourself. We need someone dumb and strong that can be manipulated easily. A pliable fool…”

“I need carry more…da?” Asked a large, mountain of a man as he jumped out of the back of a delivery truck with what appeared to be seven sides of beef balanced on two wide shoulders.

Duncan didn’t have to say a word. “I’ll have him checked, my Lord. If he’s suitable he will be briefed and prepared by tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll hold you to that Rubin. Now if you’ll excuse me…” Duncan’s lip curled in disgust. “I’ve a son to see.”

…

He appeared to be struggling through a lesson with Milina on the history of past Deamone rulers. While the names came easily enough – he didn’t appear to realize that each had their own political leanings that lessons that could be learnt from them.

“Nevermind the damn dead Kings.” Duncan declared, pasting a gentle smile on his face. The boy cared for these ridiculous displays of affections. Small touches and smiles that made him feel loved. Whatever it took…Duncan’s inner voice snorted as he strode over to clasp his son’s shoulder.

“How are you, Prince Hayden…son? I hear you’ve made some wonderful progress! Soon you will be in Licia school making Deamone proud. I could not be a happier father to a more worthy son.”

The glistening look of admiration and love almost made Duncan gag. …Whatever it takes….He reminded himself.

Francois found he actually had to force himself not to scowl when King Orion entered the room—clearly for the sole purpose of rubbing the Princess’ betrothal in his face. Well, that might not have been the sole purpose, but it disappointed Francois enough to believe it. He kept his face, of course, being respectful and polite as it was expected of him in the presence of the King—and found it even more difficult to remain complacent at the reaction her guards (most specifically the dark-haired guard) had to the unexpected announcement. It wasn’t the language or concern in which the response was formed, but rather the closeness that it represented. Naturally, Francois had already noticed that the two must have had some sort of bond, but…

This will require some further research. Close was one thing, but the manner in which he responded to her betrothal was something all-together unexpected. Especially considering it wasn’t exactly uncommon for arranged marriages within the royal courts. In fact, it was basically standard. Granted, the young man didn’t know exactly how understanding the full extent of this relationship was going to help the mission, but it never hurt to know too much—not when you knew how to hide that you knew it.

After the movie ended and, he bid good evening to the Princess, and he could rest assured that no more maids were going to skitter in and out, Francois brought his fingers to his temples and laid back against his pillow. “And the day was going so well,” he groaned. Fernand looked as if he was about to break something, his darkened face scowling in frustration.

“Betrothed,” he grumbled, “Just what we need: a rival.”

“Not betrothed,” Francois sighed, “agreed to become betrothed.”

“What does it matter? There are going to be who-knows-how-many suitors you’ll have to beat in order to keep her in your favor.”

Francois nearly rolled his eyes as he propped himself back up on his good elbow. “This is an unwelcomed complication, yes…but it could still be an advantage, yet.”

This time, it was Fernand who rolled his eyes. “You can’t truly be so absolutely confident in your charm as to think that you can so easily out-woo countless men you don’t even know.”

“No,” Francois grinned, “But my charm doesn’t hurt. I’m merely suggesting that I have the upper hand on time alone. You saw the way she spoke to me today. And besides…how better to stand out in a crowd of suitors than to be more interested in friendship than marriage?”

***

The morning began as uneventful as they had all seemed to begin at the Licia Palace. There was a new maid—a brunette who smiled at them and didn’t seem quite so ruffled by the color of their skin and third-realm origin. It was a welcome change, at least, but one of little consequence overall. The two were left alone to eat and clean themselves up, and it was at that time that Francois sauntered over to the room’s window, brushing the last tangles out of his hair as his eyes caught a sight that made him grin.

“I think now would be an excellent time for a walk—don’t you, Edouard? To stretch out my legs, certainly.”

His disguised brother spared a glance as well, his eyes lighting up in understanding, and the two were soon on their way out the hall, Edouard following closely behind him. Francois had to admit that it did feel nice to walk freely again; his legs felt stiff from lack of use, and although he was sure he would get tired fairly quickly, Francois had a feeling that the fresh air would do his body good. And it felt as if they had been walking for hours by the time they navigated their way to the sight he had beheld—Francois remembered the gracious noisy King commenting on the day’s military review. Naturally, Francois wouldn’t interrupt the tedious affair of what seemed to be mostly walking and talking—on horseback, the Princess surrounded by her guards (as well as a new, female guard who looked as if she was trying to appear about as stoic as she was uncomfortable on her horse). But a chance run-in on his stroll could be easy to explain, as well as idle curiosity to justify observing the latter part of the military review.

By the time he was in eyesight of the Princess (but most certainly out of the way), she had almost reached the end of the line of military personnel that had been organized for review. He noticed that she stopped to dismount and approach what may have probably been considered an abnormal and unnecessary amount of individuals…but yet Francois found himself smiling at the display. She was nothing of not considerate, wasn’t she? And here I thought I was something special, he thought with silent mirth.

Now, Francois supposed that all he’d have to do was wait for the men to disperse—which didn’t look like it would be all too long—before he had the opportunity to spend a nice, casual stroll with the object of his intrigue. The weather was almost as fair as she was, after all. It was an invitation that seemed innocent enough.

Robert strode through the halls of Licia Palace, half flushed with anger and embarrassment and half thrilled that the causes of the above were over. He tried not to dwell too much on what might be running through Eirian Lindval’s mind upon having met the Princess, Herbert and seen him in their company. He had to admit – they’d…affected his behavior more than he would have originally cared for. Despite himself, he’d felt the need to quietly assure Eirian Lindval that one did indeed “become accustomed” to Herbert Dubhan; to his manner of speaking, his lack of formality and his abundant familiarity with the Princess.

 

“I can assure you, that although Mr. Dubhan is…fond of breaking protocol, he is a most capable Guard and partner.” Robert said, while rubbing his temples all the same. “He and the Princess share a particular confidence in each other. Mr. Dubhan was raised by the late Princes Dwayne and I believe it comforts her…to have someone with memories of him nearby.”

 

It wasn’t until he arrived outside of Francois Moreau’s room that Robert began to question that notion. “Popcorn?” Offered the Deamone man, in an apparent apologetic gesture. It might have worked if it wasn’t for the fact that it meant their ward was currently alone in the presence of two unknown and potentially dangerous men.

 

“Are you out of your mind, leaving her alone with them?”

“I thought we settled this yesterday. I’m right here and I sincerely doubt they’d be dumb enough to try anything now, if they meant to do so in the first place that is.”

 

Narrowing his eyes, Robert replied with a scoff and proceeded to enter the room. The Princess sat in a chair at the third-realmer’s bedside, movie images flickering on a screen and the man’s quiet attendant in a corner.

 

“Princess.” He said, bowing severely and taking a stand by her side. “Given the recent events, I believe leaving you unsupervised would be…unwise.” He whispered into her ear. With a nod she indicated her approval. The entire episode promised to end quietly until the King came in and informed, indirectly, Robert and Herbert of the Princess’ marriage arrangements. Even when King Orion was gone Robert stood and gaped at the young woman in the chair. Even he was privy to her feelings regarding arranged marriages. While they were standard fare among the upper echelons of Lician society, he knew that as a Deamone Princess she retained the right to choose her own husband at any time. Until now, he’d known her to be more agreeable to that tradition than the prospect of a loveless match. Pride and sadness radiated from his heart towards the young girl before him, but it all immediately took a backseat to Herbert’s apparent outrage.

 

Obeying both the King’s order and saving his Princess what would have undoubtedly been an uncomfortable conversation, Robert gripped Herbert’s arm and walked him out of the room. Herbert fumed in silence and didn’t even offer Alarice his arm when she finally walked out to join them.

 

“How much longer until supper?” She asked softly, looking about as admonished as Robert could expect her to while keeping face.

 

“Why don’t you ask your fiancé?” Retorted Herbert before Robert could answer.

 

“Really, Herb?” She whispered back harshly, before turning to smile at a passing Quinn.

 

“Thank you for volunteering Quinn. I’m sure Mr. Moreau and his assistant will be much more comfortable with you to attend to them.”

 

“You’re having her wait on them too?” Grumbled Herbert once the brunette was out of sight, his arms crossed childishly before himself. “First you’re getting married and now you’re taking away my morning coffee! Anything else? Is Miss. Lindval getting my vacation days because who needs those?!”

 

“Oh for the realms! Put a cork in it Herbert.” Robert snapped, turning them away from the Princess’ room and towards the King’s selected dining room instead. If she changed he’d have to bear his nonsense while she dressed. Alarice seemed to have no protest to this, choosing to chatter softly about Eirian being lovely and pleasant and asking him questions about her. The subject was a pleasant change of pace and Robert was smiling most amiably when they joined the King for dinner. Of course – it wasn’t an entirely pleasant dinner.

 

“I was not informed of the Princess’ engagement.” Herbert stated outright, as soon as he, the King, the Princess and Robert were alone.

“I’m not engaged Herbert.” Alarice murmured serenely, placing a napkin delicately onto her lap.

“The Princess has agreed to consider a list of suitable candidates. To be put together by the Council and Court respectively. I did not think your consultation was required, Mr. Dubhan. She has only agreed to become engaged to one of them and of course…she retains her rights by Deamone law to reject the list outright. Though, of course the committee on the matter will seek to gather men suitable to the task in all ways: appearance, breeding, intellect, political benefit…”

“I represent the interests of the late Prince in all things regarding the Princess – King Orion. That was the agreement and the role the Deamone Council entrusted to me. I should have been informed of this before it took place.”

 

A flicker of what could have been anger or annoyance flashed through the King’s eyes only to be replaced by an amiable smile.

 

“Of course Mr. Dubhan. Forgive the oversight. I’ll have the list of candidates forwarded to you. Satisfied?”

 

Although Herbert nodded to the affirmative, Robert had the feeling this was something he’d be hearing about later. It wasn’t something he looked forward to with any degree of delight.

“I’ve decided to walk after the first run-through.” Alarice called out through the door when her ladies had finished lacing, stuffing and tying her into her underthings and skirt. All that was left was the jacket – which she’d assured them she could manage herself.

 

It’d been a dividing suggestion. The King seemed to halfheartedly approve of her idea though he “would never partake in such a spectacle.” Robert too seemed pleased and proud of her. Herbert had been the only one to voice his opposition, suggesting that while the idea was good – it might have been too soon after the assassination attempt. In short, grumbly tones Herbert re-voiced his concerns when she stepped out the door; buttoning her jacket.

 

“If Duncan Deamone meant to frighten me, acting as if I was not might be the thing to do.”

“Or it could be exactly what he wants.” Herbert snorted, still recovering from his perceived slight.

“Lord Deamone would be a fool to attempt something now, in the middle of a military review.” Robert said, glancing anxiously at the door.

 

The two men were dressed more formally than normal: each wearing a jacket of white and black respectively, though equally emblazoned with medallions, cords and ribbons. Alarice too had been required to take copious amounts of time getting ready. Her dark hair had been hand-dried and scented lightly with jasmine oils then styled into long, thick waves and pinned half up with the rest cascading down her back. Eschewing tradition, she’d forgone a tiara.

 

“I think they’ll know who I am without it, Rob.” She said with a grin as he pointed out the absence of the accessory.

 

Her skirt had no hoop as it wouldn’t have allowed her to mount a horse if it did but it made up for it with a thick chiffon crinoline under the bleached white overskirt. The fitted, blue and white striped riding jacket had silver buttons in two rows down the front and hanging, scalloped collars. Another layer of sheer white chiffon guarded her modesty, wrapped around her shoulders and tucked into the front of her jacket. She was just struggling in in buttoning the cufflinks when Herbert stepped up muttering something about how hopeless she was. He was in the middle of tying the ribbon around her neck into a loose bow when Eirian Lindval walked in.

 

“Miss. Lindval!” Alarice exclaimed with a smile.

 

“Hold still!” Herbert cawed, pulling her back from her attempted stride towards Eirian and straightening her jacket, shawl and slipping short white gloves onto her hands. “Good to go.” He muttered after a second, giving her a shove towards her new handmaiden. “Hello Miss. Lindval.” Herbert said absently before glancing at his reflection in the mirror and adjusting his hair.

 

“I’m terribly sorry for the short notice. It absolutely skipped my mind to tell you about the military review. I hope Robert’s notes were thorough.”

“They were, your highness.”

“Have you ever ridden in court dress?” She asked more quietly with a smile as Robert and Herbert fine-tuned each other’s medals. “I only plan on riding the first run and then I will be walking for the rest of the review. Hopefully it won’t be too uncomfortable for you.”

 

Unfortunately, their conversation was cut short by the arrival of a golden armored guard who informed them that their horses were ready. Robert led the way while Herbert walked behind and Alarice walked on Eirian Lindval’s arm. Admittedly, she was a bit too nervous to continue with the small talk. All she could do was tell Eirian that she would be staying in her rooms until they left for school, at which point the Headmistress would be consulted on the matter of her living situation.

 

Horses were the most common mode of transportation on the outskirts. Stables rented them by the night and more than once shed borrowed one to ride around with Malek. It’d been to her benefit, allowing her to easily adjust to her riding lessons in Licia. Not that she’d had to ride side-saddle then, she thought ruefully as Herbert lifted her onto her horse as if she were light as a feather. With a conspiratorial grin he glanced in the direction of Robert; he was gingerly helping Eirian onto her own horse.

 

Soon enough the King had joined them and the group rode behind him as he rode in slow, steady paces through row after row of military member. Every once in a while his horse would make a stop to greet older generals and retired military. Each soldier stood straight and face forward – unblinking in their seriousness. They had gone through ranks once when they reached a podium. There they stood and watched as each regiment moved in formation: practicing drills and exercises until it was time to be addressed by their King. Orion’s speech was predictable: thanking them for their service, hoping for their continued loyalty and espousing the values of Licia. Each soldier saluted them and they prepared for the second run-through.

 

Rather than re-mount her horse, Alarice walked and shook hands with all of the regiment leaders. It severely lengthened the review but it felt much less contrived than merely riding past them with a gentile smile and a wave. Even the leaders of cadet squadrons caught her attention – the grim looks of the eleven year olds giving her a thoughtful pause though she tried not to let it trouble her too much. Finally a dismissal was called and she spotted a spot of purple in the sea of silver, white, blue and gold.

 

“Mr. Moreau.” She said, on Eirian Lindval’s arm once more as she walked up to him with what might have been too much urgency. “Please don’t bow…” She stammered, reaching out to steady him with one hand when he moved to do so. “I’m…glad to see you’re well enough to walk today. Ah…May I introduce Miss. Eirian Lindval? She is my new handmaiden and companion.”

 

Alarice hoped, briefly that she would be able to befriend the severe looking blonde girl. They would have to speak alone soon in order to get to know each other better. Robert liked her well enough and that was all the endorsement the Princess needed. But here, out in the thrumming mass of courtiers was not the place to build confidences with her new guard.

 

Francois’ offer of joining him for a walk immediately brought her back to the present moment. Not only did she enjoy his company, but it was an excellent opportunity to avoid the King for a little bit. “Id love to… I was actually planning on visiting the menagerie. I’ve heard rumors that there may be an elephant in one of the pens.”

“Well technically it’s Edouard’s elephant…” Francois said, his white teeth gleaming in a smile as he offered and she took his arm. “She followed him home when he came to stay with us and we never saw a reason to turn her away.”

 

Behind them, Alarice thought she heard a laugh and the clinking of coins. “Saving lives and adopting elephants, Mr. Moreau? Any other uniquely heroic skills?”

 

“Not that I’m aware of–but stop me if you catch me in the act of saving someone from a burning building. I’ll be sure to write it down.” Francois Moreau had quickly proved to be a lively conversationalist and his offhand comment elicited a laugh despite herself. “I’ll be sure to do that, Mr. Moreau.” She said just in time to hear the derisive, if hushed, tone of a court lady.

 

“Quel charmant.” The woman whispered (though not so softly so that they could not hear) to a companion as the two walked past. “Le sauvage belle avec le sauvage héroïque.”

 

Alarice would have been happy to ignore the comments, but Herbert seemed less inclined to do so. Calmly, she turned and shook her head. “Don’t pay them any mind Herbert. I highly doubt your guns or words will change their feelings. People are usually only convinced by action.”

 

“If that.” He sighed, smiling and then returning to his position. Still holding onto Francois Moreau’s arm, she then turned to him.

 

“Please forgive the offense, Mr. Moreau. You have done nothing to deserve the insult and I can assure you not everyone is that way here at court. …Just…” She paused, glancing at a large group of courtiers who’d stopped to gawk at Edouard (before quickly bowing in embarrassment and scurrying away.) “A…majority.”

 

Their trip to the menagerie took about fifteen minutes- a short walk for the Lician palace. Just as she’d been about to suggest they take a break, Mr. Moreau seemed tired, a male nobleman paused and bowed before approaching her.

 

“Highness.” He said, clasping her hand and bringing it to his lips. “A charming display at the review. I’m certain you’ve given the cadets some much needed inspiration.”

 

His name was First Lieutenant Chand and he was on the now-infamous shortlist. For a while – it had been between him and Robert as her potential guards. But Chand’s higher family standing resulted in him being promoted to a rank of more importance, while Robert’s loyalty had suited the position more perfectly. Still on Francois’ arm she tried to end the awkward and thoroughly stiff conversation as soon as possible. “It was not intended as a display, Lt. Chand – and it is very much them who inspire me. Not the other way around.”

 

Chand’s smile was easy going and he ducked his head bashfully. “Of course Princess.”

 

“Mr. Moreau and I are on our way to the Menagerie. Please excuse us.” The golden-haired nobleman bowed once more, nodding politely to Francois before letting them pass. Finally they reached their destination, where a small group of elaborately dressed children were gawking at the spectacle that was Edouard’s elephant. A large pile of leafy green plants, vegetables and fruit were before her in a silver trough. She appeared to be munching and posing for the crowd at the same time. Alarice breezed past the children and asked to be let into the pen along with the rest of her group. The large enclosure was easily one of the largest, roofless and containing a small pond in one corner. She had to bite her lower lip to keep from laughing in amazement.

 

“Truly Mr. Moreau, she’s stunning. …May I approach her?” Alarice asked, wondering just how long it would take Robert to decide that the obviously docile elephant constituted a security risk. When he gave his approval it was all she could do not to run up to the magnificent creature. With a gleeful laugh she shook “Reena”‘s offered trunk. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss. Reena. My you are beautiful.” She cooed, running a hand up and down the surprisingly velvety skin. “Such a lady too!” She continued, doting on the creature as it blinked its long eyelashes at her while Francois mentioned something about her vanity. “Well of course she likes to be complimented. Magnificent women always do I’m told.” Alarice smiled and then laughed when the elephant trumpeted loudly and nuzzled its trunk against her cheek.

Francois couldn’t prevent the grin from spreading wide and pleasantly across his face as the Princess began to walk toward him. He knew she’d see him—and that she’d come. So far, so good. He made a movement to bow (slightly awkward in lieu of his injuries, both past and present) as she approached, but almost eagerly a hand reached out to right him before he could complete the action. His eyes locked with her for a second as she asked him not to bow, but Francois quickly averted them casually. “Of course,” he answered. “It was such a beautiful day, I couldn’t resist going out for a stretch.”

His golden eyes drifted toward his gracious lady’s companion. She was a pretty young woman, but hardly captured his attention—she was rather ordinary, for a Lician: blonde haired, blue eyed, and obviously severe without even needing to say a word. While he had nothing against them in general, Francois found his tastes were much more suited toward…the unique. Regardless, he smiled at her in turn. “Charmed, Ms. Lindval.”

Folding his arms carefully behind him, Francois moved his gaze quickly around them, taking in the beautiful scenery which surrounded them. What else could one expect, from a palace? Although, he had to admit, he was partial to the cuts and colors of the Deamone palace. “Would you care to join me? It would be quite a waste not to enjoy the weather while it’s this clear.”

To his delight, she accepted, and soon they were heading toward the menagerie. Evidently, some birds had been whispering about Reena. It was only too perfect that the object of his interest, herself, would have wanted to sneak a peek. But as he knew, I can do better than a glance.

On the way there, he explained lightheartedly the (somewhat untruthful but very frequently recited) manner in which the elephant came to be under his care—noticing the subtle but all very present reactions by the guards and Alarice herself in regards to the knowledge that he, the “exotic aristocrat” had come to Licia on the back of an elephant. How shocking. The quiet murmurings underneath the cheerful tones of banter were easy enough to ignore, however. It was blatant insult from a pair of passing court ladies that Francois could not so easily tune out.

And yet, even as his mouth formed into a tight line, he couldn’t help but bitterly admit that it was almost an apt comparison. Almost. More than anything, the young man found himself reflecting on the bad taste it left him to have to hear his primary language directed in such harsh words against him. Like being cut with your own knife. Nonetheless, he managed to force the pleasantness back to his face as he assured his lovely companion that no offense had been taken. “I know which sort of remarks are and aren’t worth the effort to listen to.”

Once they had reached the menagerie, having had the pleasure of meeting Lt. Chand, Francois found that he would have preferred the gawking bimbos. But he supposed there was some form of blessing in having such an early run-in with a potential suitor (and rival), however small and annoying it may have been. I have a name and a face; it’s all I need to find out whether this man is even a threat. Needless to say, Francois was glad to be rid of the Lician—and once that unnecessary character was out of the way, there was nothing stopping him from actually enjoying the walk. And hey, why shouldn’t he enjoy himself on the job?

Following the Princess (although a tad less enthusiastically) to the extravagant pen where Reena was being kept, carefully sidestepping the curious children, Francois leaned against a beam. “Feel free. Reena is exceptionally docile—and she loves to be flattered,” he explained casually as he watched the manner in which the elephant and the girl became acquainted with one another. “Keep going on in such a fashion and she’ll be absolutely enamored of you in mere minutes.”

As Reena trumpeted and brought her trunk up to Alarice’s cheek as if in a mock kiss, Francois found himself joining in on her laughter. “Would you like to ride her?” Giving a short pause, he added, “she probably hasn’t gotten much exercise, if any, for the past couple of days.” As he expected, the brunette smiled widely enough to count as an affirmation, but before she could get a word in her (male) Lician guard cleared his throat, sputtering uncomfortably—but as thoroughly as he could muster—about the importance of following protocol. While they all shared an incredulous glance at the man, and began to discuss the legitimacy—or even possible existence—of protocol in regards to elephants, Francois turned his attention back to the Princess, who smiled again (albeit more sheepishly).

“I would love to,” she said quietly, and Francois stepped into the pen. It was a simple matter, making Reena bow. The years she had spent with the twins—and more predominantly, Bellamy—had trained her to specific touches, sounds, and their meanings. A touch to the soft dip behind her ear and she stooped complacently to one knee. Given her size, the task appeared fairly laborious, but the elephant appeared otherwise comfortable. Francois offered his hand to help as Alarice climbed carefully onto the wide, textured back. The way she grinned unabashed atop the steed was nothing less than simply breathtaking. Reena’s trunk curled around his arm. When she gave a small cry, Francois looked in her eyes; he could tell that she was reading him like a book.

Yes, I know, he thought, I think that she’s an exceptional young woman, as well—but don’t you look at me as if you think I’m an amateur. I thought you knew me better than that.

Untangling himself gently, Francois climbed up behind the Princess—nimbly despite his still-sore arm due to the familiarity of the act. He noticed the manner in which Alarice’s female companion looked uncertain about what she was expected to do in this situation, but didn’t move to stop him and that was good enough. “I hope you don’t mind the proximity,” the young man apologized smoothly from behind her once he had settled, “but I wouldn’t want you to slide off on your very first elephant ride.”

Once the guards seemed to get on the same page, Francois gently spurred Reena into action. He steadied the Princess when she threatened to slide off due to the heavy manner in which the elephant righted herself. Her skirts positively fanned themselves unnaturally; clearly it was not proper attire for such a venture, but there wasn’t much they could do about it in any case. But once that had been tackled, the steps became easier. Less jumpy than a horse, but easier to get queasy—both due to the height and the manner in which the cumbersome steps Reena took would cause the riders to rock gently from side to side. For Francois, it felt peaceful, almost soothing. Of course, he couldn’t guarantee how the uneven steps would affect the Princess.

More than once as they strode slowly about the yard, flanked by all four guards, it seemed as if the royal was going to tip over, but Francois was always quick to steady her with a smile. “Easy…” he’d whisper, somewhere close to her ear. Sometimes he’d give a light laugh. “You’re doing great.”

Elephant Protocol? Alarice found herself wondering in a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. If there was such a thing in the (literal) rule book it would undoubtedly be a small, rarely invoked passage that even Robert Ward would not be able to remember. Then again, there were rules for the colors of gloves and the length of hair so why not the riding of elephants? Whatever the case, the longer she let her three guards think about the matter the lower her chances of actually RIDING the stunning creature.

 

So, with a subtle and lowly-toned affirmation she found herself clasping gently onto Francois Moreau’s hand and then several feet taller. The disorientating sudden-tallness and the fact that her riding skirt’s split only partially accommodated the volume of the fabric and caused it to rise up comically brought an almost-painful grin to her face. It only faded a little when Francois’ “proximity” was brought to her attention. Should it have bothered her? Perhaps a little – even she was not immune to the fluttering heartbeats and flushes of red in the cheeks of a girl settled neatly between a handsome young man’s hips. Then again, Francois Moreau had been nothing short of courteous and polite and he was aware of her “engagement situation.”

 

“Not at all.” She smiled back politely, trying to suspend her laughter at the subsequent sliding that her unfortunately mandated wardrobe brought on. “One should always try to avoid sliding off until one’s fourth or fifth elephant ride, at least according to protocol.” Alarice added, cheeks reddened at the effort it took not to join Herbert in laughing at Robert (who had a perplexed look on his face that was followed by an out-loud wondering of what page in the Protocol book that rule was on.) Though she might have ordinarily been more concerned about the potential to fall from such a height, Francois reassuring grip kept her feeling safe…and paradoxically a little unnerved. While he seemed completely at-ease on his ride she couldn’t hide the giddy feelings she was experiencing.

 

“She’s so graceful.” She all but cooed, rubbing her hand gently along the elephant’s back in an admiring gesture. When the creature seemed to acknowledge and be pleased by this the young royal went on. “And so beautiful! Such a …” Occasionally, her compliments to the “lovely girl” were interrupted by her body shifting from side to side. But she took it all in good humor, laughing appreciatively along with Francois when it happened. “I am undoubtedly the most experienced elephant rider among the Royal family, thanks to you Mr. Moreau. Perhaps the King will agree to take lessons so as to not fall behind.” The thought of Orion, legs split as he sat astride Reena with a goofy grin on his face only made her laugh more. In a nervous gesture she resorted to hiding her laughing face behind her hands, forcing Francois Moreau’s hands tighter and higher up on her waist.

 

Thankfully (perhaps), this was the time Reena chose to cease her walk and as a result the time that Francois dismounted the exotic creature. Her smile had returned to its pleasant and neutral home when he offered his hand up to her; allowing her to maintain a sense of composure as she took it and jumped off as gracefully as she could. Alarice landed face to face to, in fact almost touching, Francois Moreau. Glancing bashfully down, she offered him a smile and a squeeze of his hand just before she felt Herbert’s own on her shoulder.

 

“The King is going to be here shortly.” He said, his tone even despite the obvious warning he was providing her. Threat to the “short-list” or not, it would not be to Francois Moreau’s benefit for the King to see how fond she’d grown of him in so short a time. King Orion had claimed that he was neutral about her decision, that the committee had ensured all candidates would be equally beneficial to both Licia and Deamone. But she didn’t buy it and she suspected neither would Herbert. Briefly, she allowed herself to consider Francois Moreau. Though she knew nothing about his wealth or prospects – he was obviously of Deamone heritage but removed enough to live in the Third Realm. “Connected enough to one of the realms to be agreeable to them. But, not so much that the other could not grow a bond with them as well. An ideal position, really.” The King had said, about a similar young man whose name escaped her completely. The thought, though it happened in a matter of milliseconds, made her blush and grasp compulsively onto Herbert’s arm. He was her go-to, always, when she needed to feel grounded.

 

“Perhaps we should leave Miss. Reena to rest.” She remarked, after a pause and a short breath. So it was that the four of them were standing outside the pen a minute later when the stomp-stomp-stomp of the King’s guard reached their ears. At the mere sight of the golden-haired man the entirety of the courtiers and servants sank into demure bows. Alarice hesitated uncertainly for a second…waiting until Edouard assisted Francois’ bow and assuring herself he was secure before dipping into a respectful curtsey herself. The word “Majesty” rippled across the sea of people and ended on her own lips. His lineless face appeared pleasant and easy, she could only guess if the inside matched the outside.

 

“Princess.” He responded, thoroughly ignoring the rest of the people around him. “And Mr. Moreau. Good to see you’re feeling better. Is this extraordinary creature yours, by any chance?” The maliciousness that Herbert and Robert’s gentle joking had lacked was not absent in the voice of the King.

 

“The King enjoys zoological pursuits in his spare time.” She explained softly as King Orion observed Reena from the relatively safety of the outside of her enclosure. In between jotting down notes in a leather-bound journal, he addressed them once more. “The Princess is quite strapped for time, in light of preparations for her return to Licia school. As I’m sure you can understand Mr. Moreau.” Whereas Alarice had felt no need to learn more about Francois Moreau than he’d volunteered to her, the King apparently shared no such feelings. “But we always try to spend some private time together. We will be sharing a private dinner tomorrow…would you care to join us? …You don’t mind, my dear do you?”

 

“Whatever pleases you pleases me, my King.” She replied automatically, though her gut twisted at the idea of an interrogation over dinner. When Francois politely agreed she wasn’t sure whether to feel delight (at the chance to spend more time with him) or sheer terror (at the King getting the same.) She settled for giving them both a reason to leave.

 

“My King, as you’ve said – I have many preparations to make before I depart for school. And…” Trying to communicate to Francois a need for immediate escape, she shot him a quick look of warning behind the King’s back. “Mr. Moreau looks unwell. Perhaps this excursion warrants some rest on your part?”

 

“I do admit, I am feeling…rather fatigued. Perhaps I was a tad ambitious…”

 

His ready agreement let her relax, if only a little. It wasn’t until the King (without ever once turning to face them) dismissed them merrily that she stopped holding her breath.

 

“Make sure that Mr. Moreau and the Princess make it safely to their own room, James.” Orion added on, speaking to one of his armored guards who gave a quick nod and then extended his arm along the path back to the palace. “Princess, Mr. Moreau?” He said, effectively splitting the group into Francois and Edouard and herself, Robert, Herbert and Eirian as they walked. The return to the rooms was silent and the last words she was able to speak to Francois before he retired to his room were “Thank you for today, Mr. Moreau. I hope you rest well.”

 

Having said goodbye to him, “James” then further escorted her back to her own room and left with a stoic bow. Alone with her three guards, a jumble of feelings and the realization that she hadn’t eaten all day she turned to Herbert. As usual, no words were needed.

 

“I’ll get Qui…well…I’ll get someone to get started on dinner. Come on Rob, we may as well give the girls some time to get to know each other. Besides, I bet if we look really hard we can find the Elephant Protocol…” With an imaginary tip of his hat (and a wink) at both women, Herbert escorted Robert out of the living room quarters and left them alone. Thoroughly exhausted, Alarice took a seat on one of the lushly upholstered, chaises in the room. Feeling a bit like a child about to be scolded, so confounded were the depths of Eirian’s eyes, Alarice invited the young woman to sit down as well.

 

“This must all be very…disorienting…Miss. Lindval.” She chuckled softly, “I don’t imagine Herbe…Mr. Dubhan’s making it easier for you. I think he means to be…friendly but ….he has very wide boundaries.”

 

Male laughter could be heard from one of the other rooms, words like “joking” and “ridiculous” jumbled with “elephant” to form a vague explanation of the conversation being had between them. “He and Mr. Ward had some initial difficulties but as you can see they’ve become quite close and I’d like for all of us to be friends.”

 

“Dinner is ready your highness.” A petite, short-haired maid called from the doorway. Rising, Alarice waited for Eirian to stand before walking with her to the dining room. Although four places were set, Robert and Herbert could still be heard joking from afar.

 

“They’ll be a while.” She explained, with a smile. “Whenever they’ve been apart too long they tend to appreciate each other and the reprieve they give themselves from guarding a teenage girl all-the-more.”

 

As if to prevent any protests from Eirian, Alarice changed the topic. “I think it might help to get to know each other better if we were to ask each other some questions about one another.” After thanking a maid for pouring her a glass of water, she raised her glass in the blonde guard’s direction. “By all means, you first.”