Ariane held the cushion out in front of her so she could roll her eyes at Prince Lucien's green back.
The prince was heavier than Ariane had prepared herself for, and her arms started to ache by the time she finally made her way from the family wing to the banquet hall. She bit her lip as they entered the room, feeling half naked without her maid uniform. She had never been in such a formal event as anything other than a servant. What am I supposed to do?
She started to turn around, searching for a familiar face among the maids, when Heloise descended upon her.
“Good evening, Your Highness,” the housekeeper said briskly. “You and your escort are to sit to Prince Severin’s left, next to the King of Torrens.”
Ariane didn't know if she was supposed to curtsey, but she was afraid to risk it as she had to keep Lucien balanced on his cushion. “Yes, Madame,” she murmured. She turned to study the tables and search for Severin...who was unfortunately standing with a young man dressed in an Erlauf military uniform. Lovely. If he’s standing, how am I supposed to figure out where we sit? She glanced over her shoulder, but Heloise had moved on, already greeting the next guest. She took a few uneasy steps deeper into the banquet hall when Lucien impatiently shuffled around on his pillow.
“We are to sit next to my brother and the King of Torrens,” he said pointedly.
“Yes, Your Highness. I do not know where that seat is, however, given that Prince Severin is currently standing.”
“To the right of the King of Torrens would be my guess.”
He’s so self-centered and arrogant. “I imagine so,” Ariane said between gritted teeth. “However, I do not know what the King of Torrens looks like.”
“He's the fellow sitting down at the head of the room with the bushy beard.” Though his words were helpful, Lucien's tone oozed with condescension.
Bear it, she ordered herself as she maneuvered around the various tables and the members of nobility scattered throughout the room. When she finally reached the correct table, she was relieved to see that paper nameplates written with curling letters were set for each place, assuring her of Lucien’s spot next to the rather wild-looking monarch.
Ariane placed Lucien's cushion on the table and glanced at the King of Torrens. Should I swivel Lucien to face him?
The king, who had his head tilted back resting against his chair, released an enormous snore.
I guess not. Ariane lowered herself into her chair, then leaped to her feet again when a man, dressed in a splendid tunic and wearing an impressive gold crown on his head, approached them.
“Prince Lucien,” the man said. “It is good to see you—though I am sorry to hear of your…affliction.”
“Emperor Yevgeniy, you honor me,” Lucien said in a jolly voice. “Father sends his regrets that he could not attend the Summit as well—he much desired to speak to you and spoke fondly of you.”
Ariane stood silently and wracked her brain. Who was Emperor Yevgeniy? He must be the emperor of Kozlovka, for most of the other countries use the term king.... The Emperor’s features did not help her—for though he had kind eyes, his hair was a sort of indecisive shade of brown-blond.
“Indeed,” the emperor said. “When all of this is over, I should like very much to host your family in Kozlovka. Your father and I spent much of our boyhood together.”
“He has told me something of your adventures,” Lucien said—all good cheer and charm even though not three minutes ago he had been as cheerful as a bucket of used water. “Do tell Severin of your wish. I fear he will soon grow musty, for he does little besides pore over maps and reports.”
The emperor smiled, which eased some of the tired lines around his eyes. “I shall do so. Enjoy the meal, Lucien.”
“You as well, Your Imperial Majesty,” Lucien said smoothly.
Ariane—hovering nervously at the table—was surprised when guests trickled past, and Lucien smoothly greeted people he hadn’t met before, knowing their names and positions without any sort of introduction.
The whirlwind of visiting nobles had Ariane curtsying so much her legs ached. How does he know who they all are? She wondered as she idly eyed the smug prince.
Lucien’s good cheer fell when Princess Elle—wearing a beautiful rose red gown, swept up to them. “What do you want?” Lucien asked with a hint of a complaint in his voice.
“With you? Nothing,” Elle said. “But I wanted to speak to Ariane—and I suppose you might as well hear it.” The princess winked, then turned her attention to Ariane. “I wanted to assure you that I know this will be a trying job. But please be reassured: if Lucien acts like the frog he is—or is generally a pest—don’t be afraid to fling him about, and for land’s sake don’t let him bully you. I promise he will threaten to have you tossed from the palace or dismissed from your job, but Severin and I will not allow that to happen.”
“Did you just give her your royal permission to commit acts of violence against me?” Lucien demanded.
“I did,” Elle said. She ignored her brother-in-law’s huffs and added. “If, by the end of the Summit, you find you cannot abide living in the same city as him, you will be more than welcome here at Chanceux Chateau. But no matter your decision, you will not face any negative consequences of Lucien’s ill temper. Do not feel bound to withhold your anger when he says something particularly rude—though I do ask that you avoid making a scene in the middle of the Summit.”
“I beg your pardon—she’s a servant! She most certainly should feel bound,” Lucien complained.
“Just because she is a servant doesn’t mean she should be required to put up with you,” Elle said.
Lucien’s throat bulged. “At times like this, your merchant blood shows.”
Ariane felt a smile crack the corners of her lips and impatiently pushed a lock of her dark hair over her shoulder. I knew I could handle him if I had no choice, but I am grateful to know his threats will be empty. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Please, you must call me Elle. And it is I who should be thanking you for your sacrifice,” Princess Elle said.
“And what about me?” Prince Lucien asked in a pinched voice.
“You probably need a water glass dumped over you—you look peckish,” Elle said. “Enjoy the dinner!” With a swish of her skirts, the princess was off, moving on to embrace a craftmage and his wife whom Lucien had greeted earlier.
“That woman,” Prince Lucien growled.
“I can see why Prince Severin married her,” Ariane said.
Lucien stared at her with his frog eyes, and looked away only when Prince Severin moved to take his seat.
“Pardon me, but the meal will soon begin,” Prince Severin announced.
The conversation of the room quieted as the guests and representatives parted ways, each going to their seat.