“Thank you, Marcelle,” Princess Elle said. “Ariane, please, come in!”
Ariane inched into the study, nearly jumping when Marcelle closed the door behind her. She barely noticed the beautiful bookshelves and the intricate maps that were pinned all across the walls. A large desk took up a great portion of the floor space, and seated in the chair directly behind it was Prince Severin—the master tactician and commanding general of Loire. Princess Elle lounged on an overstuffed armchair near him, cuddling a large black cat. “Your Highness, Your Highness,” Ariane murmured as she curtsied to the pair.
“I see. Now you show proper respect,” an irritating voice croaked.
It took Ariane several seconds before she noticed Lucien, propped on a velvet cushion on Prince Severin's desk. Though Ariane felt the blood drain from her face, she forced herself to curtsy to him as well.
“Yes,” Prince Lucien said. “This is her, the viper-like maid who smashed me with Sylvie's ball and fought off the male rouge mage.”
Ariane, surprised by his observation, nearly frowned. It was not completely out of the question that he remembered her from that morning's incident, but she was rather shocked he recalled she was the same maid who had been present during the attempt on his life.
Princess Elle tickled her cat's chin. “If she hit you with a ball, I am certain you deserved it.”
Prince Lucien snorted, which sounded more like a croak.
“Have no fear, Ariane,” Princess Elle continued. “We are not here to censure you for a moment of clumsiness.” Based on the sly light in the princess's eyes, Ariane was almost certain she knew she had done it on purpose.
Not knowing what to say, Ariane wished she had a cleaning cloth she could clutch. “Thank you, your Highness.”
Surprisingly, it was Prince Severin who picked up the reins of the conversation next. “We called you here to make a request. As one of three who were present for the attack on Lucien, you are already aware of the threat to his life.” He held her gaze and seemed to expect some kind of reply. He was quite intimidating with his dark, cat-like gaze, so Ariane was quick to nod. “Lucien was turned into a frog for his own protection, and with the caliber of spells Lady Enchantress Angelique has placed upon him, I'm quite confident he will be safe for the duration of the Summit. However, it is likely that our enemies—whoever they are—will still try to attack him. Our request to you is this: please share escort duties with Lucien's valet, Henry, and remain with Lucien during the Summit's meetings and meals.”
Princess Elle smiled as her cat placed a black paw on her chin. “We're hoping to catch whoever is doing this, you see. We wish to lull them into a false sense of compliance. They would be on their guard against a squadron of soldiers, but against a maid and a valet?” Elle shrugged.
Ariane looked from Severin to Elle. What they mean is, I will be bait. The assassins are far more likely to attack Lucien —who is protected by his spell—when a mere maid is carrying him about. That means, however, my safety will be precarious at best.
As if he could read her thoughts, Severin added. “We will have guards assigned to you. However, they shall remain out of sight and will act only if a situation requires it. We must catch whoever is doing this—not only to guarantee Lucien's safety, but also because it is possible we may be able to question them about the uneasy situation in which our continent has found itself.”
Yes. I'm definitely bait. Ariane drew her shoulders back. But I likely deserve it for my mistreatment of the prince, and they could certainly ask me to do worse. “It would be my honor, though I must say that I don't possess many fighting skills and would be unable to protect Prince Lucien should we be attacked again.”
Elle carelessly swiped a hand through the air. “That won't be a problem. Severin would never let his dear brother walk around unprotected. Isn't that right, Lucien?”
“We will remain in the Chateau.” Lucien’s froggy throat swelled and deflated with each breath he took. “I don’t understand what any of you think will happen. It’s not like rogue mages will pop out of the evening pudding and attempt to shoot me down between the dessert and tea.”
Ariane was not much comforted by this thought. She had, after all, been present when he was attacked in the palace.
“We thank you for your cooperation,” Prince Severin said.
“Naturally, you’ll be excused from all other duties during this time,” Princess Elle said. “Heloise and the other servants will be informed. Instead of reporting to them in the morning, you should go to Lucien’s room and bring him down for breakfast.”
“I am not a toddler,” Lucien said. “I will not be brought anywhere!”
“Indeed,” Severin said. “You’ll merely be carried.” His comment got a squawk from his frog brother, but he ignored it and continued to study Ariane with glittering eyes. “Your duties will begin tonight with the dinner meal that is the mark of the informal start of the Summit. Retrieve Lucien from his room and stay with him for the duration of the meal.”
“We dine in the banquet hall tonight,” Princess Elle added as her cat purred.
“I understand,” Ariane said.
“Excellent! We thank you for your service, Ariane,” Princess Elle said.
Ariane curtsied and slipped from the room, painfully aware that Lucien’s froggy eyes followed her every move. When she shut the door behind herself, she briefly leaned against the frame. Well. That will teach me to act out. What, in the name of all things, have I gotten myself into?
Later that evening, Ariane, dressed in a beautiful new gown Princess Elle had provided for her, knocked on the door to Lucien's chamber. She impatiently shook her head when some of her dark hair brushed her cheek—at Princess Elle’s insistence, Ariane had left her hair down rather than braid it as she dearly wanted to. When it hangs about my face like this, it reminds me of unlaundered curtains!
The door to Prince Lucien’s quarters opened, and Henry stared impassively at her.
“I'm here to escort His Highness to the banquet hall.” Her eyes strayed briefly from the valet to the smudge she had left on the door.
Henry nodded, then disappeared inside the chamber.
“What are you doing?” Lucien squawked.
Henry murmured an indecipherable reply to him, and seconds later reappeared in the doorway, holding a red velvet cushion upon which Prince Lucien—in his giant, bloated frog body—sat. “Have a pleasant evening,” he said as he passed the cushion off to Ariane.
The second Ariane had a secure grip on it, Henry swung the door shut. As talkative as ever, I see. Ariane turned around, retracing her way through the chateau hallways, though she spared a moment to glance down at Prince Lucien. “Good evening, Your Highness.”
Prince Lucien croaked.