The Princess Search: A Retelling of The Ugly Duckling (The Four Kingdoms #5)
Melanie Cellier
The Palace of Light
“The trouble in Lanover grows closer by the minute.”
The gray-haired woman twitched her wings and frowned at her companion. “Yes, indeed, and what of it?”
The first godmother, her hair more white than silver, shifted uncomfortably. “Are you sure your goddaughter is up to the challenge?”
“She never had a Christening. Officially, she isn’t my goddaughter.”
The white-haired one rolled her eyes. “Don’t quibble. You know she’s still your goddaughter. Although I’m sure she thinks everyone has abandoned her.”
The gray-haired godmother put her hands on her hips. “I may not have rescued her outright, but you know why. You know we’ve been weaving the threads into place for this moment for decades. Don’t tell me you’ve gotten cold feet now!”
“Not cold feet, exactly.” The first sighed. “It’s just that my charges—all seven of them—have been through a lot lately, and I hate to leave them unaided at such a moment.”
The second godmother frowned. “And my goddaughter has been through a lifetime of troubles. A lifetime she’s about to be forced to revisit. Nothing about this is going to be easy for any of them. But they’re not unaided because they have each other. Such challenges are not supposed to be easy. If they are to rule the kingdom someday, they must endure the difficulties before them and prove themselves worthy.”
“Yes, you’re right, of course.” The white-haired one sighed again. “Only I do so enjoy helping to pave the way to true love.”
The other shook her head. “If you find yourself so restless, why not pay a visit to Rangmere? I hear your widowed goddaughter there is on the painful path to love. And then you won’t be tempted to interfere where you should not.”
The first smiled. “Perhaps you are right. An excursion will be a great deal better than all this waiting.”
The gray-haired woman twitched her wings again, observing the empty space where her companion had stood a moment before. Now that she was alone, her face lost some of its earlier assurance. “I do hope I haven’t misplaced my confidence in the girl,” she muttered to herself. “Or else a great many things will be lost that should not be, and it may take us generations to get things back on track.”
Part I
The Capital and the Islands
Chapter 1
I didn’t need the tinkling of the bell above the door to tell me someone had entered my shop. For all she was only fifteen, Princess Celine knew how to make an entrance. I hurried to put down my work and greet her while my mind rushed to deal with the problem presented by her presence.
“Your Highness.” I dipped into a curtsy, but the princess didn’t seem to notice. She was examining a bolt of my newest acquisition—a deep midnight blue shot silk. It was certainly an impressive material, and a number of other seamstresses had already tried to prize its source from me.
Abruptly, Celine spun around. “I have a project for you. Your biggest yet.” The excitement on her face made my heart sink even further.
Celine had surprising talent when it came to dress design. If she hadn’t been royalty, I would have invited her to join me as a partner—her instinctive grasp of fashion would have made up for any lack of skill with a needle. As it was, her suggestions had sparked some of my most brilliant creations.
But I had received a visit the week before from no less a personage than Her Majesty Queen Viktoria herself. She had been flatteringly full of praises for my work, but I was fairly certain her commission for a ball gown had been intended to soften the blow of her true purpose. Because I had also been given extremely strict parameters to follow for any future designs made for the queen’s youngest daughter. It was such a pity, the queen had said, that I kept creating such masterpieces that no one ever got to see.
I had winced at her words and rushed to assure her of my compliance. In fact, I agreed with her, even without the weight of a royal command. My excitement at our shared efforts had led me to create gowns for Celine that were—strictly speaking—too old for the young princess. One or two of them I had expected to create fashion trends and had been surprised not to receive a deluge of copycat orders. Now I knew why.
I had made a name and a living for myself through great effort and toil. I had dragged myself from the muck without assistance from those who might have been expected to help me, and I had no great inclination to take orders from anyone. But I would not disobey the queen. I needed to stay on the good side of the royal family—their patronage had established me here in the capital. And I wanted my best designs to go to someone who would be permitted to actually wear them. But that still left me with the problem of the youngest princess.
Celine spun around in a giddy circle, running her hand along several bolts of soft material. “I can’t wait to tell you. You’re going to be so excited. It’s a challenge worthy of your skill.”
I frowned. I hated to disappoint her because the young princess was one of the few people who had given me reason to be grateful. She was the one who had discovered my small, newly-established shop just over a year ago, and she had always treated me affectionately despite the difference in our ranks. Without her, I might still be struggling to gain noble clients. Without her, I would certainly never have received the commission for her older sister’s bridal and attendant gowns the previous summer. And since Princess Celeste was every seamstress’s dream—a girl who would look stunning in absolutely anything—I had been flooded with orders ever since her wedding.
I considered my words carefully.
Before I could speak, however, the bell tinkled again, and a different kind of figure strode into my shop. Tall, broad-shouldered, and with a palpable air of authority, the young man was a far cry from my usual customer. I immediately sank into another, deeper curtsy to cover my confusion at his appearance.
I looked up again just in time to see Princess Celine roll her eyes. “What are you doing here, Frederic?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at her oldest brother. “I’m busy conducting business with Mistress Evangeline.”
“Mistress Evangeline?” Although he said my name, Prince Frederic’s eyes regarded his sister in surprise. “Since when are you so respectful? I’d expect to hear you calling her Evie or something.”
I blinked at the sound of my nickname on his lips, my surprise overwhelming my amusement at the truth of his words. She did usually call me Evie.
Celine drew herself up to her full height and looked loftily at her brother. “I treat everyone with respect.”
He chuckled darkly. “My dear Celine, you don’t know the meaning of respect.”
I dropped my head to hide a smile since I wasn’t sure the prince had meant to be humorous.
He turned to me and gave an inclination of his head. “I apologize for my younger sister, Mistress Evangeline.”
Celine looked as if she were about to explode at this, but I quickly dipped into a shallow curtsy in response, hoping to head off any further conflict.
I tried to remind myself that an exalted position said nothing of the person within, and that my position in the capital was assured by my own skill, not by royal patronage—however much that patronage advantaged me. There was no reason for me to be intimidated by the crown prince. And yet intimidated I must be, since I could come up with no other reason for my heart to be beating a great deal faster than its normal rate.
The prince turned back to his sister. “You’re supposed to be preparing for our departure.”
“I am!” She narrowed her eyes and dramatically shook her head. “Which is the biggest of the Four Kingdoms, Frederic?”
He eyed her warily, sighing when she raised her eyebrows at him. “Lanover, of course.”