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.