“We have whistles for you—they are actually standard soldier whistles, but Master Stil has spelled them so they are far louder and more piercing,” Princess Elle said.
Esses meandered in the princess’s direction, but paused when it strolled past Lucien. It circled him with fascination, then sniffed his head.
“I say, stop that,” Lucien said in irritation.
Angelique smiled and looked from Ariane to Henry. “The main spell you will carry will not be attached to you, but to handkerchiefs Mistress Gemma has made for you.” The enchantress gracefully gestured at the seamstress.
Gemma snipped a stray thread off one of the silk handkerchiefs, then unfurled it and held it up. The seamstress had embroidered, with gold thread, beautiful lily pads and a large frog with a crown perched on its head. “I made them as you specified, Elle.”
A squealing croak slipped from Lucien’s throat, and he almost tipped over when Esses rubbed against him and purred.
Princess Elle’s laughter filled the room. “They are perfect!”
“The handkerchiefs will hold a spell that will cancel out any weak or low-level magic. It’s the same spell Colonel Friedrich mentioned, Lucien—albeit a far more temporary one,” Prince Severin said.
“There is a frog on that handkerchief.” Lucien’s voice sounded strangled as Esses kneaded his paws on his back.
Stil winked at Lucien. “Usually a spell that powerful would have to be placed on something like a piece of jewelry. But because my Gemma made the handkerchiefs, they’ll hold the spell just fine. The only problem is Gemma was limited to making handkerchiefs given the short timeline, which means the spell won’t last as long as it would on something like a cape or a scarf. As a result, we’ll have to re-apply the spell every morning at breakfast.”
“Technically the spell will last three days, but we don’t want the charm dissipating at a poor time,” Lady Enchantress Angelique said.
“Do you understand?” Prince Severin asked.
Ariane’s desire to stand was rekindled when he glanced at her with glowing eyes. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Ouch! Elle—control your blasted beast!” Lucien complained as the large cat tried to stand on top of him.
“Esses, don’t touch him. You never know what sort of diseases he may be carrying,” Princess Elle said in a coaxing voice.
Esses finally abandoned Lucien—who was now liberally coated in black cat fur—and walked towards his owner.
Lucien croaked, then waddled his way over to Ariane, dramatically collapsing on her feet.
Ariane picked him up and placed him on his cushion that rested on her lap.
“Is there anything else, Your Highness?” Henry inquired.
“This is what we have come up with thus far,” Severin said. “Lady Enchantress Angelique has asked the other magic users for their thoughts. If someone has more ideas, we can add to our plans.”
Craftmage Stil gently took the handkerchiefs from his wife. “When you come see me, bring your handkerchiefs, and I’ll apply the spell. Since I was with Gemma while she made these, I laid the base work of the spell in her stitches. When I renew it, it’s just a matter of giving the spell another burst of power.”
The craftmage snapped the handkerchiefs, then breathed on them. “Safeguard,” he said.
The gold embroidery on the green silk glowed, following the embellishments and patterns with golden light. Eventually swirls of light shaped in Gemma’s embroidery pattern lifted off the handkerchief. A haze the shape of a shield settled over it, then sank back into the handkerchiefs.
“Here.” Craftmage Stil held one of the handkerchiefs out.
Ariane slowly took it, surprised by the warmth of the fabric.
“Keep it on you at all times,” Craftmage Stil said.
“It will work best if it is in direct contact with your skin,” Lady Enchantress Angelique said.
Ariane and Henry exchanged nods before Ariane stood and set Lucien—and his cushion—down on her vacated chair.
“Thank you all for your aid, Your Highnesses, Lady Enchantress, Master Stil, and Mistress Gemma,” Ariane said as she curtseyed.
She was simultaneously grateful and slightly unsettled. I am glad they value Henry and me enough for these additional safety measures. But to know that they believe these may be necessary…
Ariane was no weepy girl. She had stood up to the assassins twice now without letting fear get the best of her. But…. She was also level-headed, and she had no desire to willfully jump into danger. It seems, however, it may be too late for that…
She tucked the handkerchief in her pocket—intending to slip it into her bodice later, when she was not in front of an audience.
“Yes, thank you. I am honored.” Henry made his own bows to the royalty and magic users.
“We will do more,” Elle said stubbornly. “But this is a fine start.” She smiled as she picked her cat up, which purred as it snuggled into her chest.
Gemma’s forehead wrinkled. “I hope the handkerchief is adequate to hold the spell.”
“It’s lovely.” Stil kissed his wife on the top of her head. “It’s stronger than a fabric spell has the right to be since you stitched it into the fabric.”
“Stil is right.” Lady Enchantress Angelique smiled at Gemma. “I was hoping you would demonstrate for me how you embroidered while Stil laid the groundwork for the spell.”
Gemma’s smile was small but as genuine as a bell’s chime. “I would be glad to.”
Severin stood. “I believe it is nearly time to break our fast with the others. Thank you for your co-operation—Stil, did you need a larger payment?”
Stil shook his head. “A gold coin is enough. I just need the transfer for my magic to work. Come, Gemma, I’m starving.”
“We are to sit with Prince Callan and Princess Dylan today,” Gemma reminded her husband.
“Good. The servants will bring extra food for Dylan, so I’ll be able to snag some!” Stil held the door open for his wife. “Angelique, you’re sitting with us, as well, right?”
Angelique shook her head as she followed Gemma out the door. “I promised Mage Donaigh I would sit with him.”
“Ahh, yes, another one of your adoring fans,” Craftmage Stil said.
“Let’s go, Ariane,” Lucien impatiently scooted around his pillow. “We must get to breakfast.”
Ariane picked up Lucien’s cushion, purposely holding it like a serving tray at a much higher height than usual. “You seem unusually enthusiastic.”
“Of course! I’m parched.”
Prince Severin raised an eyebrow at him. “You aren’t getting any wine with breakfast.”
Lucien swiveled his bulbous eyes in Severin’s direction. “And who will stop me?”
“I will,” Ariane said calmly.
Princess Elle grinned and briefly squeezed Ariane’s arm. “I do so like you. You are such a treasure.”
Lucien shouted when Esses—who was still snuggled against Elle, batted a paw at him. “Get that dratted cat away from me, Elle.” He sniffed disdainfully. “Everyone is against me this morning!”
Ariane tried to pitch her voice lower. “You seem out of sorts—perhaps a swim in the pond or a stint as Princess Golden Curls would soothe your temper?”