When the summit was paused for luncheon on the fourth day, Ariane readied herself for a grueling hour. Her stomach rumbled as she carried Lucien to his usual eating position at Severin’s left, and she warred to keep her expression passive as the tantalizing scent of food brushed her nose.

Watching Lucien for breakfast and dinner isn’t so bad. I can eat directly before breakfast, and I know I get to eat as soon as I deliver Lucien to his rooms, but lunch… Thus far, she had not been able to steal off for lunch, so sitting at the table and feeding the crown prince was nothing short of misery.

Ariane carefully set Lucien on the table. There was so much food the prince had to crawl off his cushion as there wasn’t any room for it.

“Chestnut soup, lobster bisque, scallops, smoked eel, roast beef—your cook has outdone herself, Severin,” Lucien said.

Prince Severin briefly bowed his head. “She worked with Elle to be certain every dinner would have a dish our foreign guests would enjoy. Elle went through great pains to secure a sorbet recipe from Baris.”

Lucien’s throat puffed and deflated. “I hope she didn’t steal it?”

“I didn’t ask,” Prince Severin said.

“Lovely,” Lucien said.

Ariane swallowed and was grateful for the buzz of conversation that filled the room, covering the complaints of her stomach. She tucked her hair behind her ears and tried to ignore the delectable, herb-infused scent oozing off the roast beef.

“Ariane,” Prince Lucien said.

Ariane snapped her attention off the food. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Eat.”

I must have misheard him. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness, could you repeat that?”

Prince Lucien set about investigating a teacup of water one of the servants had set out for him. “Eat. Try out…whatever you wish, though I would recommend the beef.”

Feeling rather confused, Ariane frowned. “This is your food, Your Highness. I cannot eat it. Unless…are you asking for a food taster?”

Prince Lucien croaked. “No, I am not asking for a food taster,” he said, sounding offended. “It is merely that…” he trailed off when he nearly fell into his teacup. “For land’s sake, just eat!”

Ariane looked from Lucien—who was still struggling with his teacup—to the mouth-watering food, to those gathered around the table. She slowly picked up the utensils and paused—half waiting for someone to renounce her for daring to eat from the royal table.

Her hesitation lasted only half a second before she started with sampling the chestnut soup. She worked her way through it, the smoked eel, buttered asparagus, and a single candied fig.

“I see you don’t trust my recommendation,” Prince Lucien said as he moved his attention to his single goblet of wine.

Ariane nearly choked on the asparagus she had been nibbling on. “I assumed your recommendation meant you liked it, Your Highness, and wished to eat it.”

Ariane had purposely steered clear of the rarer dishes and delicacies—like the beef. She would have loved to try them, but Lucien’s sudden goodwill was rather unexpected, and she didn’t want to sour it by eating something he wanted.

Prince Lucien skirted her plate. “That chunk of meat is as big as your fist—I couldn’t cram such food into my belly even if I wished to. But no mind. If you won’t try it, then you should at least try the sorbet when it’s brought out.”

“Are you ready to eat, Your Highness?” Ariane asked.

Prince Lucien fished a candied fig from the bowl and waddled to the bowl of lobster bisque. “Yes, but I want the bisque, which I am more than capable of eating myself, I assure you.”

“Good afternoon, Prince Lucien,” a wizened, female voice said.

Ariane whisked her utensils under the table—hiding them for the moment—and raised her gaze to see an older woman with snow white hair. It took Ariane several moments before she could place her as Rider Nareena—the Purple Rider of the Farset King and the royal representative of Farset.

“Rider Nareena, how delightful to see you,” Prince Lucien said in a charming tone. “To what do I owe this charming surprise?”

Even as a frog he just oozes charisma.

“I wished to thank your brother for making all the arrangements for this Summit.” The rider glanced at Severin—who had momentarily slipped from the table and was conversing with guards a few feet away.

“He has done a magnificent job,” Prince Lucien said. “Both in organizing it and in presiding over it.”

“Indeed,” Rider Nareena said. “You are very lucky to have him, you know.”

Prince Lucien’s frog eyes darted in Severin’s direction. “Yes,” he agreed.

“With Prince Severin’s leadership in the military and sense of direction, Loire has a bright future before it,” Rider Nareena said. “It is a blessing for you that the two of you get along as well as you do. Without him, your life would be quite different.”

“Exactly,” Prince Lucien said.

The tone he used made Ariane sit up straighter and glance at him in surprise. His voice was as false as the magic snake that had attacked him. What brought that on?

“It looks like he is now available, so you are free to shower your praises upon him. Enjoy the luncheon, Rider Nareena,” Lucien said.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” The older woman glided off, making her way to Severin.

Lucien—utterly silent—returned to his lobster bisque and spent the remainder of the meal quietly eating. (He didn’t even finish his wine!)

His unusual behavior—both in letting her eat and in his obvious displeasure at Rider Nareena’s observations—confused Ariane. She picked at the thought as she carried Lucien back to the ballroom that served as the meeting room.

I don’t understand. He clearly adores Severin, so what did Rider Nareena say that disturbed him so?

What was perhaps the most thought-provoking, however, was the idea that Lucien might be more complex than the charming-yet-arrogant dandy he appeared to be.

* * *

“Verglas can send supplies; however, we are in the middle of a structural reorganization of our army,” Queen Linnea said. “We need to finish retraining our soldiers before we can send any.”

The King of Torrens raised a bushy eyebrow. “You grew too placid with your magic wall, hm?” He was jolted when one of his fellow Torrens representatives smacked their hand down on the table in front of him.

“No,” Queen Linnea said frostily. “We toiled under the rule of a deranged king.” She narrowed her eyes and likely would have said more, if her friend—Gemma—hadn’t taken her hand and squeezed it.

“Arcainia can supply troops and limited funds,” Princess Elise of Arcainia said.

Ariane tilted her head to study the princess, noticing—with some curiosity—that her twin foster brothers stood behind her and whispered in her ear.

“No supplies?” Prince Callan of Ringsted asked.

Crown Prince Steffen shook his head. “Clotilde brought famine and destruction on our lands. We’re still trying to recover.”

“Ringsted can offer ships, of course, and supplies. Though we were isolated we still had bountiful harvests,” Prince Callan said. “It seems, however, that there haven’t been any battles at sea, so we may be relegated to transportation.”

His fiancée, Princess Dylan, had a basket of crescent rolls in front of her that she was steadily devouring. “We Selkies can send some of our people with the ships—to guarantee easy ocean passage.”

Ariane watched with fascination as Princess Dylan ate three crescent rolls and showed no signs of stopping.

“We can transport troops as well,” Prince Callan added. “But we will need a reserve number of ships to keep on Ringsted shores. Our experience with the sea witch has made us…averse to possible situations that might isolate us again.”

Prince Severin nodded and made notes. “A reasonable request.”

It struck Ariane that, considering he was a genius military tactician, Severin spent a great deal of his time writing and taking notes. Curious, she glanced down at Lucien. I’ve never seen Lucien read…but I know his personal study is packed with books and files.

“And what of Sole?” Prince Nickolas of Arcainia asked.

The two mages who were representing the distraught country shook their heads. “We are only mages and cannot promise anything.”

“Do you believe, when they awaken, the royal family would be willing to give any sort of aid?” Prince Severin asked.

Mage Firra hesitated, then shook her head. “Unless the situation radically changes, I don’t believe King Giuseppe will.”

“Briar would,” Mage Donaigh said.

“Who?” Prince Severin asked.

“Briar Rose—Princess Rosalinda,” Mage Firra said. “She is far more…open to such discussions, but she holds very little power at the moment.”

“It would be best, then, if we write off Sole entirely,” Colonel Friedrich said. “If they send us anything, we may view it as a boon.”

Rider Nareena tapped her table with long fingers. “It’s a shame. What I wouldn’t give for a squadron of the Magic Knights of Sole to take on these rogue mages—or the likes of Rothbart.”

Emperor Yevgeniy straightened. “Perhaps we could barter?”

Mage Donaigh shook his head. “As long as Princess Rosalinda is in danger, King Giuseppe won’t be willing to send out any Magic Knights.”

“Which is beside the point, as he’s not even awake to do so now,” Mage Firra pointed out.

“Once the Summit is over, I will travel to Kozlovka with Emperor Yevgeniy to scout Rothbart,” Lady Enchantress Angelique said. “When I have an understanding of the threat he poses, perhaps other magic users will join me in facing him?” She looked around, and for a moment Ariane thought she read a bit of fear in her eyes.

“Of course,” Craftmage Stil said. “I’ll get to work on some goods while you scout it out. By the time you’re back, I’ll have something to help you.”

Mage Donaigh brightened. “I could—”

“No, you can’t,” Mage Firra interrupted. “We have to get back to Sole for Briar.”

Mage Donaigh nodded and adjusted the straw hat he hadn’t removed—even for such a formal occasion as the Summit.

Lady Enchantress Angelique smiled and glanced around the room again. No one else said anything.

An older woman who was quick to smile and plump like a grandmother patted the enchantress’s hand. “You’ll be fine, dearie.”

“Sybilla is correct,” another mage rumbled. “You, out of all of us who are gifted with magic, shouldn’t have a problem offing a sorcerer.”

“I thank you for your help, Lady Enchantress,” Emperor Yevgeniy said. “We will provide you with whatever resources you need to face Rothbart.”

The Lady Enchantress smiled slightly and graciously tilted her head.

She really is beautiful, Ariane thought. Though there’s something sad about her. Perhaps she is merely worn out—it seems she knows most everyone here and has been running from country to country.

“I can’t decide if other magic users scorn Angelique because she is an enchantress and they feel threatened, or if there is something about her magic that makes them fear her,” Lucien remarked almost absentmindedly.

Ariane shook herself from her thoughts and guiltily glanced down at the prince—she had half-forgotten him in the intensity of the meeting. She could probably be forgiven for her inattention, however, for the prince had spent the majority of the meeting organizing the bowl of candied figs he had insisted they bring into the meeting, and now had his treats arranged in neat stacks.

He is capable of some semblance of organization. The lout. His observations finally pierced Ariane’s thoughts. “What do you mean?” she asked in a whisper.

“There’re only a few magic users who speak freely with her—Craftmage Stil and the Fairy Godmother Sybilla among them.” He spoke quietly, though he sounded distracted as he looked out at the representatives. “The rest treat her with cold respect and are prone to frowning at her.”

“They would disapprove of an enchantress? With all the good she has done?” Ariane wondered.

“Oh, it’s been going on for quite some time. Given that she has been racing across the continent for several years, finishing off magical incidences, I would have thought by now the Veneno Conclave would have assigned her traveling companions or attendants to aid her. At the very least, I thought someone would volunteer to travel with her. But she has always been alone and is generally very timid when it comes to speaking to other magic users when, as an enchantress, she out-ranks just about every magic user on the continent. That is why I suspect it has something to do with her magic. She is used to this sub-par treatment.”

Ariane blinked. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him string together so many intelligent sentences before.

The prince blinked several times, and the slope of his frog body tensed for the briefest moment before he arrogantly stretched out on his cushion. “She should turn the lot of them into frogs,” he complained. “It’s a horrible experience that would surely teach them.”

Ariane noted the change, but allowed the tone of the conversation to change. “Forgive my observations, Your Highness, but I don’t believe your life has changed that much since you became a frog.”

“My skin is drying out, and I want wine. When will this bore of a meeting end?” The prince hid his head in the cushion and presented his large backside to Ariane.

Previously, she would have thought it was because he was incredibly rude, but after his little observation about the lady enchantress, she wondered if he did that so he could still hear whilst appearing to pout.

At least some of his actions must be part of a façade—there’ve been too many moments since this started for it to be sheer coincidence. It’s shocking, really. His Highness, the fool for fashion, just might be clever. But why the act?

Lucien sighed dramatically into the cushion.

Ariane, knowing better than to ask him out in the open, returned her attention to the Summit discussion once more. I will ask him, though. I want to know why he does this.

* * *

Two days later, Ariane and Lucien were again passing the time as they waited for the rest of the royal representatives to freshen up before dinner. This time, under Severin’s suggestion/order, they had taken up residence in the chateau’s rather impressive library.

Lucien spent the time crawling around on the shelves—complaining, mostly. But Ariane, surrounded by a great library filled with gleaming bookshelves and more wooden surfaces than she had seen in a week, gave into her base nature and was using a cleaning cloth she had swiped from a maid to attack the room.

The servants must place fresh flowers throughout the chateau nearly every day. Though the library smelled mostly of books and old paper, Ariane could detect a sweet whiff of lilac sprigs through the gloom of the room.

“I should have weighed in on this ruddy Summit after all rather than tell Severin to do whatever he wanted,” Lucien complained. “This week has been a dead bore. We should lighten it up with a ball or something.”

“I am not certain a ball is appropriate given the subject of discussion.” Ariane was only half paying attention as she flipped her hair over her shoulders and set about straightening the rugs splayed out in the vast room. (She was starting to hatch a secret plan to request she be assigned to the palace library. Severin’s servants kept the library impressively clean. She suspected that was partially due to its frequent use—a problem the palace library likely did not share.)

“We should get one of the mages to do magic displays of some sort. Or—”

“The Summit does not need more wine.” Ariane glanced in the prince’s direction, amused when he lifted his head up in a refusal to acknowledge her and, as a result, almost fell off the shelf he was exploring.

“I should make arrangements for some bit of entertainment,” Lucien said. “The gloomy air of the discussion is unforgivable.”

Ariane dusted off a porcelain vase that was filled with fresh, sweet-smelling flowers. “That is understandable, given that the representatives are attacking a very grim idea. Never before has there been such evil in our lands.”

“Hah! You have such a quaint view of our history.” Lucien hooted and this time did fall off the bookshelf, landing with a satisfying splat.

Ariane set her cloth down on a table and approached the prince, picking him up and setting him back on the bookshelf. She was starting to grow used to the slimy feel of his skin and didn’t shudder whenever she touched him anymore. “What in history compares to the great evil we are facing now?”

“Only just about everything,” Lucien said. “The Snow Queen is one of the earliest—and best-recorded—examples we have of good magic users clashing with evil magic users, but it’s a pattern that’s been repeated innumerably since then.”

Ariane lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?” She retrieved her cloth and wiped up the wet mark Lucien had left on the floor.

“Indeed.” Lucien inflated his chest and looked pointedly away from Ariane. “Nearly every century there has been a conflict of some sort. Loire was founded after a great clash between good and evil as a result of the Girl in the Glass Coffin, and as recently as fifty years ago, Baris experienced a similar event.”

Ariane listened to the prince rattle on. I wonder how far I can lure him out of his act… Inspired, she smiled. “But this is the first Summit of its kind. It’s a historic event.”

“Yes, well, this is the first time the whole continent has been rather overrun by such evil magic and evil creatures. It is quite suspicious—everything had grown quiet after the conflict in Baris and then suddenly things started ramping up. And that is what everyone is worried about. It leads us to believe there is something or someone behind this all.” He cut off the sentence rather abruptly.

Ariane glanced up at him and watched as he waddled in a circle.

When he spoke again, his voice had regained its arrogant streak. “And you’ve just proven my point—we need entertainment! Another day of this, and I’ll start sounding morose and grow a giant mustache like Scholar Pierre! Call for the guards—I know a musical group from Noyers who play a good waltz.”

Ariane stood and ignored his order. “Why do you hide your intelligence behind a mask of negligence?”

Lucien squirmed around so he could look at her. “What did you say?”

“Why do you hide your intelligence behind a mask of negligence?” she repeated.

“You dare to—”

“Your Highness, it is apparent that you are bright and well versed in matters of history, politics, and economics. You have displayed your aptitudes again and again over the last two days.” She hesitated, uncertain if she was overstepping her bounds with the next bit. “Yet in Noyers, you exclusively concentrate on charming your nobles and performing social niceties. Why?”

Prince Lucien was silent for several long moments. “I am not so intelligent as you think.”

“But you—”

“I am not.” The words held traces of thunder and were filled with more emotion than Ariane had ever heard him utter. “Enough. I tire of this topic. Take me to the banquet hall.”

“Dinner will not be served for at least half an hour, Your Highness.”

The frog prince turned his back to her again. “I don’t care. Just…take me there.”

It’s my fault. I pushed him too far. Ariane bobbed a slight curtsey before picking him up. “Yes, Your Highness.”

When she set him on his cushion and carried him from the library, Lucien released a bone-deep sigh.

Ariane returned to her usual maid conduct and kept her mouth shut despite the obvious weariness in his sigh. Whatever the reason for his act, he doesn’t enjoy it.

* * *

It wasn’t until the following day that Lucien loosened up again and returned to his usual complaints and arrogance—though now Ariane was starting to see cracks in the mask.

He continued to order Ariane to eat before him—for the previous evening’s dinner, as well as today’s lunch—and though he made a great show of not paying attention to the meetings, he was capable of keeping up with the mealtime conversation. Still, his actions were a mystery to Ariane.

I suppose it doesn’t matter if I understand his motivation or not. I’m reassured for the future of Loire that he will be a good king—or at least smarter than everyone seems to believe. As a maid, I cannot expect more than that. Indeed, I’m lucky I had the chance to draw that conclusion.

Ariane glanced out the windows at the stone balcony that opened up into the gardens as she toted Lucien from the ballroom to the banquet hall for lunch. The gardens were so green and bright, and there were a number of soldiers strategically positioned in them. (Severin had doubled the guards after the snake incident.)

“Do you think we could see the gardens again tonight?” Ariane asked.

“I don’t see why not,” Lucien said. “Severin has enough guards out there to fend off a siege.”

“There’s no need to wait until tonight—you should see it now!” Princess Elle said, making Ariane jump when she appeared suddenly at her side.

Lucien puffed up his chest. “Come to spy on me to assure Severin I’m not doing something idiotic, eh?”

“No, actually. This time I’m running an errand for myself.” Princess Elle’s smile was mischievous and bright—making it impossible not to smile back at the unlikely princess. “Which is why I insist.” She gently took Ariane by the elbow and led her in the opposite direction of the banquet hall.

“Um, Your Highness?” Ariane ventured as Lucien squawked—jumbled by the light grip Elle had on Ariane’s arm.

Elle winked at her as they strolled through several hallways. “I’ve already told you, it’s Elle. Ah—here we are. The Rose Salon!”

The Rose Salon—as its name implied—overlooked the rose garden. Windows lined the far side of the room, and two glass doors opened into the gardens, which were mostly green, though there were a few promising buds. The wood paneling and furniture gleamed from expertly handled cleaning. The room was decorated in dusty hues of pink and orange, and a fresco that appeared to have been recently re-done adorned the ceiling.

“Here, Lucien.” Elle plucked Lucien and his cushion from Ariane’s arms and carried him across the room. “You admire the gardens while we ladies discuss some feminine matters.”

“What? No!” Lucien said.

“I find it amusing you thought you had a choice in the matter,” Princess Elle said in a voice as bright as her smile. She opened one of the glass doors and flung Lucien outside.

He remained seated on his cushion, though the pillow skid a few feet, and he tumbled off the side when it landed on the stone balcony just outside. “What about lunch?” he demanded after he righted himself.

“There’s still plenty of time for lunch. But you should get some exercise—you’re looking pretty portly, even for a frog,” Princess Elle said.

“You hag!” Prince Lucien waddled back towards the doors. “Then tell Angelique to turn me back into a human!”

“Not in a thousand years. Enjoy the gardens—if you get lonely, talk to the guards or watch out for the servants’ children. They were playing outside earlier today.”

Prince Lucien hopped faster, but Elle shut the door before he could reach her and turned to Ariane. “There. Now we can have a little talk without being interrupted. Won’t this be pleasant?” she asked.

“Um,” Ariane said.

Lucien had made it to the wall and pressed his front against the glass door. This smashed his face so it looked rather flat, and made his angry yellow eyeballs stick out more. “You’re going to regret this, Elle!”

Elle jiggled the door without turning around—making Lucien fall backwards—and glided across the room. “I wanted to check in and see how you are coping,” Elle said.

“Thank you for your concern.” Ariane bobbed a curtsey and twitched her skirts so the seams lined up perfectly. “Everything is going quite well, Your Highness.”

Lucien had recovered from his tumble and was back at the door. He planted a froggy foot on the glass. “Open up! I want to eat!”

Princess Elle rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. He’ll get bored and wander off. In the meantime, please sit.” Elle gracefully seated herself on a settee and settled her attention on Ariane.

Ariane awkwardly stood for a few moments before hesitantly choosing an armchair.

“How is it going—really?” Elle asked. “Lucien can be an arrogant cad. I hope he hasn’t said anything too hurtful—or made any empty bluffs?”

Ariane glanced outside where Lucien hopped across the balcony. “In the beginning, I believe he was quite upset about his…circumstances. But he has grown more accustomed to the temporary changes these past few days.”

“Good. I’ve seen the two of you talking, and Severin said he thought Lucien was treating you well enough, but I wanted to make sure,” Princess Elle said.

“Prince Lucien might be rude, but I don’t believe he would say anything in true malevolence to me,” Ariane said.

Princess Elle tilted her head slightly and renewed her friendly smile. “Oh? Why would you say that?”

I should have kept my mouth shut. At this rate I will accidentally offend both the princess and her brother-in-law with my blunt observations. It took Ariane a moment to create a diplomatic yet vague reply. “He is more aware than he appears to be.”

Outside someone shrieked with laughter, and four children—ranging from ages three to eight—charged into the rose gardens. They were giggling madly, but when they espied Lucien, all four children fell silent.

There were several long moments of silence as the frog stared at the children, and the children stared at the frog.

“Froggy!” a little girl who looked roughly four shouted. She dropped the large doll she had been holding and ran up the steps to the balcony as Lucien tried to hop away.

“No—don’t! I am a magic frog! I shall curse you if you touch me!” he shouted.

Princess Elle serenely watched the little girl chase him from one end of the balcony to the other. “Lucien can be a puzzle—just like Severin. They may be opposite in appearances and temperament, but they are actually very similar.”

“Are they?” Ariane politely inquired.

“They are,” the princess said. “Both are stubborn mules who refuse to talk things out, even when it would make things infinitely easier and save many people from awful misunderstandings. They think they are being strong, but in reality they’re acting like dolts, and they are making themselves miserable for no real reason.”

Ariane struggled to hold in a snort of laughter.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Emele?” Princess Elle turned in her seat to address the open door. Her Lady’s Maid stood in the doorframe with a slight smile.

“You managed to wrestle a verbose confession from His Highness,” Emele said as she entered the room with the grace of a swan.

“I did, and it taught me a lesson—one I think you should take to heart as well, Ariane.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“If you ever want Severin—or Lucien—to listen to you when he is mad, the fastest way to mend it would be to stay in the shadows, knock him out when his guard is down, tie him up, and then address him. He can’t ignore you when he can’t cover his ears or leave the room, after all,” Princess Elle said with smug satisfaction.

This—combined with the little girl snuggling Lucien just outside the door even as the prince loudly protested and his eyes bulged when she squeezed him too hard—made Ariane bust into loud gusts of laughter.

Elle grinned unrepentantly. “You have the advantage. Lucien is a frog, so he is especially easy to manhandle right now.” She pointed to the scene outside where the oldest boy—who looked approximately eight—was attempting to wrestle Lucien from the little girl by pulling on his legs.

“Do you wish to interfere, Your Highness?” Emele asked.

“No need,” Princess Elle said cheerfully. “He has that indestructible spell on him, after all. But Ariane, I am glad to hear you comprehend there is more to Lucien than there appears to be. He and Severin both have…” she hesitated, “wounds. For the longest time, Severin hated himself because of the circumstances of his birth. He worried what his presence at the courts would mean for Lucien, and that his military success might make him a target and nobles would try to pit him against Lucien.”

Emele made a noise of agreement.

“It was a stupid worry,” Princess Elle said. “Lucien dearly loves Severin, and he’s crafty enough to force everyone to keep Severin out of the usual court schemes.” The princess paused, then stood and walked over to the windows. “But sometimes I think Lucien carries a similar burden. Their relationship—which is unusual given that Severin is illegitimate—has made them both better men, but in some ways has damaged them because they fear ruining it.” She abruptly turned from the window and faced Ariane. “I hope you will be able to help Lucien overcome his inner battle, whatever it is.”

Ariane had been quietly listening, but at the princess’s last line, smiled and laughed a little, then froze. “Wait, I beg your pardon…you cannot mean that?”

“But I do,” Princess Elle said.

“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.