Elle joined Severin, who slipped his arm around her waist as the pair waved.
“Goodbye!” Gabrielle—the last in their little train—called. When she specifically looked at Ariane, Ariane broke the usual protocol for a maid and waved to the princess.
“Right, I believe we are cleared out, now, yes?” Elle asked.
“If you mean all the royal guests have left, we are still hosting Colonel Friedrich for a few days more,” Severin said.
Colonel Friedrich grinned and ambled up to the pair. “I apologize, Elle. You can’t be so easily rid of me! I, unlike the rest of the nobles, have no duties to drag me home.”
Elle snorted. “You are the Prince Consort.”
“Yes, but Cinderella, as Queen, does all the ruling. I am far too shy with my reserved temperament.” Colonel Friedrich’s grin turned sly as he bowed playfully.
“Either way, you don’t matter,” Elle declared. “You’re also a military fellow—like Severin—and all our remaining guests are mages who have been living with us long enough to have semi-permanent rooms. That means I may return to my normal schedule!”
“You will not go out under Lucien’s orders to search for the identity of our enemy,” Severin rumbled.
“Of course! I don’t know why you would think I would do such a thing! Because I was definitely not going to do that,” Elle said with the innocence of a summer sky. “I was going to focus on…bonding with Ariane! Yes, I have to foster a sisterly relationship with her.”
Ariane, who had started for the door, paused. “Your—Elle?” she said in a half-strangled voice.
“What—were you trying to keep that a secret? I hope not—if so, you should have told Lucien, for he has done little besides research history and recite bad poetry about you,” Elle said.
Ariane gaped at her. She is exaggerating. Unless Lucien has worked himself even harder than I thought and is starting to lose grasp of his mind?
“He does not recite bad poetry about you, Mademoiselle Ariane,” Severin said gravely.
Elle started to pick pins out of her hair so her long tresses fell down her back. “Then what do you deign to call it when he says, ‘her voice is akin to a choir of angels’?”
“Elle,” Severin growled.
“Good poetry?” Colonel Friedrich suggested.
“It is likely a sign that he should sleep more,” Ariane said.
Elle laughed so hard she had to lean into Severin for support. “I do so love you, Ariane. I’m so glad it’s going to be you. Come, let’s see if we can scare up Gemma and go for a ride. We all deserve a break after the chaos of the Summit.”
Ariane was going to refuse—she and Lucien weren’t yet a solid…thing…so it seemed a little presumptive to be so informal with Elle. The only problem was that she rather liked horses and so rarely got to ride.
Elle, sensing her weakening will, pulled away from her husband. “Have you ridden at all before?”
“A little,” Ariane admitted.
“Wonderful! A ride is just the thing, then! I imagine Gemma would be happy for the break, as well. The poor thing hasn’t stopped sewing cloaks and capes since I mentioned the spelled garment she made for me and how well it has helped me with…walking.”
“You were going to say spying,” Severin rumbled.
“If you say that at a little deeper tone, you’ll sound like a fierce forest cat!” Elle said brightly.
Severin rolled his eyes, but he leaned in to kiss his wife on the cheek. “Go. But take a squad of soldiers with you.”
Colonel Friedrich waved. “Have fun, ladies!” He turned to Severin. “I assume we’re going to sequester ourselves in your study with Prince Lucien?”
“Yes, he’s turned up some new information I would like to go over…”
Ariane’s heart squeezed at Lucien’s name, and she hesitated even as Elle led her away. I have turned into a true, silly maid, sighing over my love. But I am proud of him. No matter what he decides to do after this, he has proven he is capable.
Chapter 11
A Lesson in History
Four days later, Ariane wandered her way through the hallways of Chanceux Chateau, meandering back to her rooms after a delightful evening meal with Severin, Elle, Craftmage Rumpelstiltskin, Gemma, Colonel Friedrich, and a number of magic users.
The Summit is undoubtedly over, and the ballroom and banquet hall have been meticulously cleaned. I don’t think Elle can claim to need my help—or the help of the Noyers servants—much longer. What will happen then?
If she went back to the palace, she was fairly certain Lucien would move his intensive research sessions there, which would take away the thin veneer of pretense he had in Chanceux that would protect him should he decide to deflect his intelligence after all.
But if I stay in Chanceux…what am I? Not a maid—even though I still clean. I wouldn’t be a staff member; would I be…a guest?
The whole idea made Ariane’s head hurt. She paused when she reached the hallway where Severin’s personal study was located. A longing to see Lucien—who was no doubt holed up in said study—squeezed her heart.
I miss him. We’re in the same chateau, and I see him daily, but I still miss his constant—annoying—presence.
Ariane bit her lip, then sighed as she started down the hallway toward Lucien. “And to think, when I was a girl and my mother said love made folk irrational, I didn’t believe her.” She dragged her feet all the way to Severin’s study, wondering if she was assuming too much by seeking Lucien out instead of letting him find her when he had the time.
When she reached the study, she stood awkwardly in front of the door for several moments, then finally knocked.
“Come in,” Lucien called.
Ariane cautiously poked her head in. Lucien was seated at Severin’s desk, a pile of books stacked next to him as he scratched out notes on fine paper. He had tacked up sheets of notes on the walls so they covered some of Severin’s maps, and a used teacup and plate were haphazardly positioned on the corner of the fine wooden desk. What was most surprising about the picture, however, were his clothes. He was still dressed in a white linen shirt and a navy waistcoat—and Ariane could see the evidence of a splendid green coat tossed over the back of his chair, but gone were his puffed breeches and frill-adorned shoes. Instead, he looked rather like Severin as he wore shiny black boots and plain trousers.
The room was almost too warm as Loire began to hint at summer, and a fire still crackled in the fireplace to provide extra light.
“Good evening,” Ariane said.
Lucien glanced up and leaped out of his chair. “Ariane! You’ve finely come to visit me, have you? Did you miss my charming manners or my striking looks more?” He crossed the room in a moment and gently pulled Ariane into the study before wrapping his arms around her.
“I think I probably most miss your sense of humility. All the time,” Ariane grumbled.