“But why?” Ariane asked. “I’m Lucien’s temporary caregiver. I’m just a maid—I am not…whatever you were to Severin when you first met.”
“Ahh, but being a maid has already put you ahead of Her Highness when she first met Prince Severin,” Emele said with a merry laugh. “She was an intruder who fell through a castle skylight—a vandal if you will. You, on the other hand, have a respectful position!”
Ariane gaped at the pair. Are they implying there is a possibility of romance between Lucien and me? It was a ridiculous and insane thought, but Ariane didn’t want to say so to a princess.
“I am explaining all of this to you, Ariane, so that you might better understand him,” Princess Elle continued. “Lucien doesn’t often let his smarter side show. The fact that you are aware of it is very telling.”
“As you say, Your Highness,” Ariane said, at a loss for words.
Princess Elle sighed aggressively. “Why does no one call me Elle when I ask them to? Do I need to make it a royal decree?” She shifted her attention to her lady’s maid. “I’m sorry, Emele, did you need something?”
“His Highness sent me to make certain you are planning to come to dinner and that you weren’t trying to break into the guests’ rooms,” Emele said.
Princess Elle rolled her eyes. “His confidence in me is astounding.”
“I told him you were more likely to attempt breaking and entering at night, when the dinner goes late,” Emele said.
“Wrong! I wouldn’t have to break and enter at all—Heloise has the set of spare keys so I could sashay inside whenever I like. But that is nothing—I am hurt that you all insist I keep up my old ways. My days as an Intelligencer are in the past!”
“That would be more convincing if you didn’t ditch your guards whenever you ride out to pay social calls,” Emele said.
As the princess and lady’s maid bantered, Ariane stood—intending to retrieve Lucien. She made it to the glass door before she spotted him and again burst into great snorts of laughter.
The little girl who had first captured Lucien had shucked the dress off her doll and stuffed Lucien into it, so the prince now sported a fine blue gown with a gauzy underskirt. The gown fit him so tightly, fat rolls gathered around his neck; based on the awkward angle he was holding his head, he probably couldn’t move. To complete the look, the girl had sprinkled several yellow flower petals on his head—probably to serve as hair.
Ariane opened the door just in time to hear the little girl giggle. “Princess Golden Curls—princess of the rose pond—would like some mud cake!”
“No, she would not,” Lucien said. “Princess Golden Curls would like to be put down!”
“You should call him Princess Wart Skin, ‘cause he’s a frog,” the older boy said.
“I beg your pardon!” Lucien thundered. “I do not have wart skin! In fact, many court ladies have declared how jealous they are of my complexion. Now either set me down, or go fetch a servant. Princess Golden Curls is thirsty.”
“Princess!” the toddler chorused.
“I beg your pardon, mademoiselles and messieurs,” Ariane was barely able to contain her laughter at the sight of “Princess Golden Curls.” “But the princess must retire for the moment. She is quite fatigued.”
Lucien eyed her over the head of the toddler. “If you laugh, I will have you tossed from Chanceux,” he warned her.
The little girl sighed and hugged Lucien closer. “Must she?”
It took Ariane a moment before she felt she could reply without laughing. “I’m afraid so.”
“Very well.”
Ariane picked up Lucien’s cushion and held it out so the little girl could set him down upon it. “Thank you for understanding. Perhaps Princess Golden Curls can play with you another day.”
“Do not volunteer the princess for social calls without her permission!” Lucien said in a falsetto voice—making the children giggle.
“Goodbye, come again!”
“We’ll watch for you, Princess Golden Curls!”
The children giggled then ran off through the gardens, leaving just as swiftly as they had arrived.
“Wait—the dress,” Lucien called after them.
“Don’t be silly,” Ariane said. “As you have worn it, you must have Henry wash and dry it. It’s common courtesy.”
Lucien turned to look up at her with narrowed eyes.
“It would be the right thing to do…as a princess,” Ariane said seriously.
“YOU!” Lucien thundered.
Ariane laughed so hard she almost dropped the cushion when she stood upright again.
“Insolent maid,” Lucien grumbled.
Ariane’s laughter died down to chuckles as she turned to re-enter the Rose Salon. I think Princess Elle might be overestimating my interactions with Lucien…but I can see what she means. Though he doesn’t say it, he has a heart.
Chapter 6
New Fears
The following evening—on day nine of the Summit—Ariane again walked Lucien back to his room after the dinner meal.
“How much longer do you think the Summit will last?” Ariane asked as she marched into the family wing.
“Another week at least. I suspect we’ll adjourn, but many of the representatives will remain behind for a bit longer.” Lucien was flipped on his back and held his bulging stomach with his webbed feet. He had eaten too much again—which was probably why he replied to Ariane’s probing questions without thinking.
“Who do you think will stay?” Ariane asked.
“Colonel Friedrich and the bluestockings from Arcainia,” Lucien guessed. “Queen Linnea will if she can swing it, and Princess Astra will if she’s feeling nosey enough.”
“Not the Ringsted Representatives?”
“No. Prince Callan and that Selkie Princess—Dylan—are getting married in several weeks.”
Recalling the bronze-skinned beauty and the large cake she had finished off on her own, Ariane smiled. “I like Princess Dylan. Her love of food makes her appreciate those who make it.”
“Maybe, but if she has any brats with appetites like hers, the food budget for the royal family will triple,” Lucien predicted as they reached his rooms.
Ariane momentarily balanced his cushion on one hand and fumbled to open the door.
“Henry,” Lucien wailed. “I’ve eaten too much—prepare the tonic for over indulgence.”
Ariane peered into the room—which was surprisingly dark. Only a small fire glowed in the fireplace—Henry had not lighted any lanterns or candles. “Monsieur Henry?” She stepped into the room, searching for the valet. (She felt no small amount of vindication at viewing the clean and tidy room—Lucien could not mess it up as he did as a man.) “Are you here?” The scent of cedar tickled her nose, but Henry was nowhere to be seen.
Lucien snorted and patted his rotund belly. “He might have wandered off to practice swordsmanship with the guards—he does that when he’s bored sometimes.”