Chapter Text
For an age and an age, Tadius’s line had served the Prince’s. The men and women who had come before had not always been personal attendants – some were liverymen, others kitchen hands, still others worked in the stables – but they were servants to the Royal Family nonetheless.
Serving was a noble profession in its own right and Tadius bore no shame for his humble lineage. He did, however, oft mourn the legacy left for him to take up, namely that onerous and most aggravating servitude to the throne specifically. Heavy was the crown and light as air the head beneath it, and so it had fallen upon those who served the royal family to bear the weight. In his darker moments, Tadius wondered if he weren’t perhaps acting in place of the Old King’s late wife, who had faithfully shouldered this burden until her passing. He certainly was expected to mother the King’s son, or at least mind and coddle him.
Thankless work, all of it. Oh, the Prince meant no ill, and he had been nearly tolerable in his youth, but his behaviour had lost both charm and hope of improvement as he entered adulthood, and while Tadius was indeed his senior, it was only by a scant few years. He had barely had any life at all before it came to revolve around the Prince and to an extent the King.
Thus it was with monumental weariness and not the slightest trace of surprise that when the Prince was punished for his failure to secure a bride with the threat of real diplomatic work, he chose to cope via abandoning the castle for a day of unhindered revelry. Truly, the only surprise Tadius could name was at the fact his Prince had thought to exchange his fine garb for that of a peasant so as to better mingle with his lessers.
Used to the Prince’s escapades as he was, Tadius set off to find him alone, riding one horse and leading another. The Prince might have shown forethought this time around, but his flights from the castle invariably required hitching a ride aboard a wagon or coach already on its way beyond the castle walls.
Today it seemed he’d gone farther than usual. When Tadius finally found the wagon his Prince had ridden on, he’d travelled all the way to the village of Bog’s Hollow. The driver was able to supply a description of the Prince’s guise and it was with uncharacteristic optimism that Tadius began his search.
The Prince had covered a lot of ground since his arrival.
The search took a great deal longer than Tadius anticipated.
Several women admitted to having been approached by a filthy-minded man of fair facade, though none had taken him up on his lecherous offers. A man selling vegetables in the market complained of a stranger who loudly compared his wares to the intimate portions of the body. The innkeeper was incensed at having his establishment mistaken for a brothel.
It was the innkeeper, as it turned out, that afforded Tadius his first real clue as to the Prince’s whereabouts. “Went off with that band of troubadours, he did. Good folk, the lot of them, but fie! if they don’t have bad taste in company!” He eyed Tadius’s formal attire and came to the conclusion that he was speaking to a nobleman. “Begging pardon, sir, I’m sure he has his merits.”
“I have yet to see them myself,” said Tadius, who had failed to realize the man’s error as he was used to being spoken to in such a manner by his fellow servants. “My thanks to you.”
The innkeeper spoke true – the Prince had indeed fallen in with a band of performers, one that had travelled afar to entertain the Lands That Are with their music and theatrical talent, and was at this very moment funding an early bout of carousing in a pub beyond the other side of the village. “To the Bog’s Hollow Players!” he cheered, raising yet another mug of ale in a toast.
His companions cheered and toasted him right back. This was the anniversary of their departure; they had returned to their hometown to celebrate. And what a celebration it was! This generous man and his hefty coin purse were welcome companions, even if the former had an unswerving and frankly uncomfortable interest in bedding at least half the people present.
They went through several rounds before at last leaving the pub, the more sober among them noting the heavy grey clouds rolling in as they emerged into the cooling afternoon. The Prince noticed nothing and instead loudly announced his need to empty his belly, to which his new friends responded by ushering him along the path and down the bank to the river, where they might refresh themselves without sullying their troupe’s reputation.
Meanwhile, Tadius had only just located the pub and was speaking to its proprietor. “Good for business, that one,” said the pub owner. “I daresay he bought more drinks in one day than I’ve sold in a week, sir. They left a quarter hour ago.”
Tadius thanked him for his help and hurried out. He wasted a little time pondering which way the Prince was most likely to have gone, then revisited the quantity of ale the pub owner had sold him and set course for the river. The Prince may consume alcohol with the bullheadedness he displayed in pursuing comely maidens, but his stomach could tolerate only so much before the cup inevitably spilled over.
He found the Prince on all fours by the water, just as he had expected. A lady was sympathetically patting his back as he retched, while the rest of the performers were immersed in taking care of their own drunken needs.
The leader of them noticed Tadius and, rising, came to greet him. “Hail, good sir! To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“I have come to bid my Prince return to the castle,” Tadius answered, nodding to where the Prince had almost tipped over into the river. “My thanks for escorting him thus far, but the King awaits his presence and time is not on our side.”
Credit must be given to the Bog’s Hollow Players; they were indeed marvellous at their craft and so barely reacted to the news that they had spent the better portion of the day in the presence of the kingdom’s one and only Prince. In mere moments, they had bid their royal companion farewell and hastened off back to the village.
“Tadiuuuus,” whined the Prince, scrambling to his feet. “You scared off my good friends!”
“They were hardly your friends, sire. I doubt you know a single one of their names.”
“Dastardly man,” the Prince grumbled, just as the first peal of thunder rang out. “This is all your fault-”
At this moment, the clouds opened up and a torrential rainfall burst forth. Between breaths, both men found themselves entirely soaked.
In spite of his penchant for complaints and sarcasm, Tadius was a gentle, patient man – or at least a man who knew which lines were best left uncrossed. The King had chosen him to personally serve the Prince for these very traits, one of the few halfway intelligent things His Most Excellent Majesty had ever done.
But Tadius had endured a long, frustrating day. He had neither dined nor supped since the morn, his muscles ached with a deep weariness, and now he was soaked and freezing atop the rest of his woes. And here was the Prince, whinging about how Tadius had the gall to spoil his fun.
Tadius, I’m afraid, utterly lost his poise.
“My fault? How dare you!” The words started out seething and quickly rose to a bellow lest they be swallowed up by the downpour. “You are the Prince! You have duties! And in neglecting yours, you have forced me to neglect mine! I am more than just your manservant, and yet I have had to dedicate all my time as of late to keeping you out of trouble!”
He got right into the Prince’s space as he spoke, shoulders taut and face twisted with a long-suppressed fury. In that moment, his was such a startling and dangerous visage that the Prince stumbled back, let out an undignified shriek, and toppled ass-first into the river.
Tadius unceremoniously hauled him back out. He then continued his tirade as he seized the unfortunate Prince by the ear and all but dragged him up the riverbank toward the road. “You run off at the slightest inconvenience! You abandon your work to throw yourself at every pretty face you lay eyes upon! You carouse at all hours without shame! I ought to see you locked in the stockades for a time, perhaps then you would finally learn the responsibility of your station!”
“You wouldn’t dare!” quavered the Prince unconvincingly. Loathe though he’d be to admit it, this new, enraged Tadius frightened him greatly. Never before had he been so brazenly manhandled – verily he’d never received a scolding at all, let alone one of this magnitude!
“At this point, sir, there is precious little I wouldn’t dare to do,” Tadius said grimly. “It has been a very trying day and my patience wears thin.”
Cowed for once in his life, the Prince fell silent. This was unacceptable, he thought with what he believed to be noble indignation but was truly childish petulance. More importantly, it was unfair. He was the Crown Prince! Heir to the throne! How dare this humble manservant, born into his family’s servitude, treat him so callously?
A punishment was in order. But what would be suitable?
For all his many flaws, the Prince was not a cruel man. Nor was he eager to see Tadius come to harm, for in his mind the man was as a brother to him. The Prince liked Tadius a great deal and it would distress him to lose his indulgent, helpful companion.
Therefore the required punishment presented quite the quandary to our charmed Prince. He stewed upon it in silence, which Tadius graciously allowed to remain unbroken. (Truthfully, Tadius cared little for the Prince’s musing and had occupied his mouth with grinding his teeth so as to keep more treasonous words from spilling out.)
It was at this point that they arrived at the road and found a fine coach awaiting them. The door was swung open with haste and servants quickly ushered the two bedraggled men into its blessed warmth, where the coach’s occupants quickly provided blankets with which to dry themselves.
“What a dreadful storm!” Lady Lucinda exclaimed as Tadius and the Prince gratefully towelled off, for it was indeed the ladies Justine and Lucinda Grizzwald whose presence they’d entered. Tadius had recognized the crest on the coach immediately; it took only a moment of thought to identify the young noblewomen.
“The gods have been kind today,” Lady Justine added. “Or else we might’ve continued on our way and missed you entirely.”
In actuality, the procession had been halted by a tree that had fallen across the road. Whilst the servants worked to clear it, they had heard distant shouting and sent one of their own ahead to offer assistance if necessary. The chosen scout had arrived in time to catch bits and pieces of the Prince’s thorough lambasting.
“_______? ___ dare you! ______ the Prince! ___ have duties! And __ neglecting yours, you have forced me to neglect mine! ___ more than just ____ manservant, and yet I have had to dedicate all my time as of late to keeping you out of trouble!”
There came a shriek and a mighty splash, followed by a wordless growl of frustration as the chastised party was fished out of the water before he could be swept away by the swelling currents.
“You run off at the slightest inconvenience! You abandon your work to throw yourself at every pretty face you lay eyes upon! You carouse at all hours without shame! I ought to see you locked in the stockades for a time, maybe then you would finally learn the responsibility of your station!”
Faced with the prospect of meeting a furious man in courtly but waterlogged attire and his apparent knave of a comrade, the scout had fled back to the carriage before he could be seen and reported everything to his lord’s daughters. The ladies Grizzwald had prudently decided to spare the Prince’s dignity by feigning ignorance of the incident that had led to his presence in their coach.
“If I may,” Lady Lucinda began, “what business brought you to the riverbank, Your Highness? You are a ways from the nearest village, let alone the castle.”
Lady Justine, noticing where her impudent sister’s eyes lingered, placed a warning hand upon her forearm and offered up a sweet, attentive smile. The smile effectively captured the Prince’s attention, and he bit his lip in delight at the loveliness of the ladies before him. The shapes they made in their elegant travel clothes…
“The novelty of wandering troubadours provides temptations irresistible to many,” Tadius said diplomatically. It was one thing to lose his temper at a man who could have him broken on the wheel. It was another to risk the ire of the King as well. “I’m afraid my-”
The Prince’s hand crept toward Lady Justine’s thigh. Tadius pretended to sneeze, guising the slap he delivered to the Prince’s wrist as reaching for a handkerchief. When he did not find one, Lady Lucinda was quick to offer her own.
“Many thanks, milady. As you can see, our appreciation for the arts has led us into a situation we might have done well to avoid.” Tadius wiped his face, then stared at the delicately embroidered handkerchief with some dismay. He had sullied a noble lady’s belongings, and without a thought too! “My apologies,” he added just a little too quickly to seem natural. “I beg of you, milady, allow me to have this laundered before I return it to you.”
Lady Lucinda’s eyes danced impishly. “You may keep it,” she answered. “I have plenty.”
“I insist,” said Tadius, alarmed now. He noticed the Prince looking back and forth between the two with mounting incredulity and coughed to clear his throat. “The season is ripe for ailments of the nose and throat, and I should rather clean your handkerchief myself at the inn than force you to go without.”
“Very well,” Lady Lucinda agreed after a moment’s thought. “May I be so brazen as to hope you shall return it yourself as well?” She fluttered her eyelashes fetchingly, heedless of the consternation and mild awe with which her sister was watching.
“Of course, milady.”
“Am I to believe you intend to spend the night at an inn, Your Highness?” Lady Justine inquired, regaining her composure.
The Prince, entirely distracted by the novel sight of watching his manservant receive a lady’s attention, did not answer. Seeing it was up to him to speak, Tadius bowed his head in agreement. “The hour grows late and we dare not brave the road on foot in this weather.” He cast a frown the Prince’s way. “I had intended for us to return to the castle on horseback, but it would seem the thunder frightened away our mounts.”
“I did not call the thunder down upon us,” the Prince protested, catching the disapproval for once.
“Be that as it may,” Tadius went on, “we would be indebted to your house if you would be willing to deliver us to the nearest inn. The royal coffers are vast; surely we can compensate you for your time.”
“Please, Your Highness.” In a moment of boldness, Lady Justine leaned forward to touch his sleeve. “You have been kind enough to insist upon restoring my sister’s handkerchief. Now let us insist upon a favour ourselves.”
Tadius froze. The Prince goggled. It had suddenly become irrefutably clear with Lady Justine’s misguided touch that it was the wrong man she spoke to.
These nobles believed Tadius to be the Prince.
Taking his stillness for an invitation to continue, Lady Justine did so. “We are far from Honeyhold and cannot offer you hospitality. However, we are staying at House Ashmore for a time and I am certain our hosts would be honoured to welcome you as well.”
House Ashmore! Tadius automatically searched his memory for items of note which pertained to that house, at last recalling that it had once been a noble house and had since fallen on hard times.
But that mattered little when a grievous error had just been made. Why hadn’t the Prince corrected the Grizzwalds? Surely he couldn’t bear to see Tadius receive the attention he no doubt believed was owed him instead.
“Are you certain, milady?” he queried, glancing at the Prince expectantly.
The Prince gave him a deeply unsubtle wink in response. Here at last was the answer to his conundrum! It discomfited Tadius to endure the ladies’ unearned respect, and it amused the Prince himself to watch the ignorant commoner’s bewilderment at being teased by a noblewoman. Truly the gods were good!
He missed Lady Justine’s response, immersed as he was in patting himself on the back. Oh, this would be such fun!
“Forgive his hesitance, mum,” he declared before Tadius could spoil this windfall, using his most charming tone and winsome smile. “My Prince is a humble man, as you can see, and far too bashful to receive any such blessing gracefully. Of course we shall accept your most generous offer.”
The sisters exchanged a mysterious, twinkling look as Tadius stared at the Prince in dismay, stricken dumb by the falsehood. “Then it is decided.” Lady Lucinda patted Tadius’s arm with a friendliness that was even more startling now that he knew who she had mistaken him for. “Oh, I look forward to visiting House Ashmore again! Lady Ella is our oldest and dearest friend, you know. I cannot wait to introduce you!”
“Lucy!” hissed Lady Justine. To Tadius, she said apologetically, “It has been a long day and manners aren’t as prominent in our minds as they should be.”
“I must admit to experiencing a similar state of weariness myself,” Tadius returned, offering first her, then Lady Lucinda a rare genuine smile.
The conversation quickly moved on to other trite things from this amiable concession. Tadius took great care to maintain the highest degree of courtesy and decorum, silently cursing the Prince for placing him in such an awkward position. Blissfully ignorant of the wrathful thoughts aimed his way, the Prince remained content to sit quietly and observe, only speaking to impart comments and remarks he deemed befitting of the situation.
In this way, the time passed until the procession arrived at the doors of House Ashmore where the rain-blurred silhouette of Lady Ella herself awaited them. She welcomed the ladies Grizzwald politely, then embraced them with infectious gladness. No sooner had she done so than the three ladies’ formality seemed to melt away to reveal the lively young girls hidden behind the curtsies.
Warmed by the nostalgic display, Tadius hung back and let them have their reunion in peace. He would’ve gladly stayed in the coach and endured the Prince’s boredom, but presently the Grizzwalds remembered their royal travel companions and composed themselves. “Ella,” he heard Lady Justine say to their host in an undertone, “we bring more than our servants and luggage with us.”
“The Nine Good Gods sent us a gift from the river,” Lady Lucinda agreed almost giddily. “We invited them to stay the night. Is that alright?”
“Of course,” Lady Ella said without hesitation. “Anyone who needs shelter is welcome.”
As one, the three ladies turned to the coach. “On behalf of House Grizzwald, it is an honour to present to you…” Lady Justine paused for the briefest moment. “His Royal Highness, the Prince!”
On cue, the Prince grasped Tadius by the arm and shoved him toward the door.
Tadius, thoroughly caught off-guard, stumbled on his way out. He quickly righted himself before misfortune could strike, then fixed his posture and looked up…
… and met the gaze of indubitably the most beautiful lady he had ever laid eyes upon.
Lady Ella Ashmore was a vision. Her dress was simple, her mane of tight curls barely pulled up and out of her face. But her eyes shone like fallen stars and her smile was radiant, a crescent moon set against the warm brown of her skin. The poise with which she carried herself and the kindness with which she spoke seemed so perfectly natural, one might easily fathom that she had not been born but rather hand-crafted by the gods themselves.
At the moment he had stepped out of the coach, this lady of starlight and hearthfire had not disguised her shock at the royal standing of her unexpected guests. The man she believed to be the Prince had then nearly fallen down the steps, his person brimming with self-conscious awkwardness rather than regal condescension, and so it was suppressed laughter with which Tadius was truly met.
Tadius was only a man. That hint of laughter would haunt his dreams until the day he died.
Of course, he had only a moment to descend to the ground safely and bow. It only took a moment, after all, for the true Prince to scramble out of the coach behind him, and another moment to nearly prostrate himself before Lady Ella, spouting poetic lines about god-spun silk and embers at midnight.
One might almost believe the sight alone of Lady Ella had shown the Prince the light. But Tadius knew his master better than that and instead had to physically guide him back to his feet before he succeeded in looking up her skirt.
“House Ashmore welcomes you, Your Highness,” Lady Ella said breathlessly, curtsying deeply. She angled herself away from the Prince as she did so, which was just as well because his opportunistic eyes were already searching for any glimpse of cleavage they might catch.
Tadius stepped firmly on the Prince’s foot. “We thank you for your generosity,” he replied over the ensuing yowl of pain. “Forgive my… manservant, he has imbibed a great deal and lost any sensibilities he may have had.”
“It was a compliment,” grumbled the Prince huffily.
Lady Ella appraised him for a long moment, then took in Tadius’s wrinkled brow and slightly grim expression. Her eyes softened slightly – Tadius was startled to find understanding there, and a trace of sympathy – and she nodded. “The hour grows late and you must be weary from the road. Let us retire indoors, and perhaps see to those wet garments.”
༻✧༺
Ella would never admit it aloud, but the presence of two additional guests – royal ones, at that! – had her palms clammy and her pulse racing with nerves. She was already tasked with preventing the Grizzwald girls from discovering the terrible secret of House Ashmore, and now she had to entertain royalty as well? Who knew what calamities might befall them if something went amiss?
Furthermore, she was more than a little flustered by the attention the two men paid her. It was not the men themselves that caused a stirring in her heart, though truly they were both very handsome; the manservant rakishly so while the Prince had a more pensive, world-wise air to his bearing. Nay, it was not the look of them but rather the way they looked at her that set her heart aflutter in her chest like some feathered and winged thing.
For the first time since her father’s passing, someone saw her not as a creature of soot and sweat but as a woman to be desired.
Best put the foolish thought out of her mind. There were more important things to be done with her precious time, starting with ensuring her guests were comfortably settled in their quarters. Lucy and Justine had brought servants and guards with them, after all, and the Prince and his manservant would require clean, dry apparel or else they were certain to catch cold. Surely what remained of her father’s trappings would fit?
Ella delivered the garments to the Prince’s chambers, then returned to Justine and Lucy’s to enjoy their company in private. The door had scarcely swung open than they fell upon her with glad cries and drew her into the room, giggling.
“Fuck this cursed weather,” Lucy sighed. “I had hoped we could have a picnic in memory of the good old days, when we could sing and be silly and run barefoot through the glen.”
“The rain will soon pass,” Ella offered, silently praying this to be true. She so dearly longed for those times too. “In the meantime, we can do plenty of other things indoors.”
“We could round the maypole if you still have that old thing,” suggested Justine.
Her suggestion was the final crack in the dam. Before Ella knew it, they were chattering away as if no time at all had passed since their last visit, discussing activities they could pursue and a thousand other things they hadn’t been able to talk about before. Their stay was certain to be a busy one if they managed to cover half of what they wanted to do together. Ella could hardly wait to get started.
Alas, there was still the matter of the Prince and his manservant. To leave the men to their own devices while playing host to the Grizzwalds would surely bring further ruination upon Ella’s house, this time by the King’s entirely human hands. But House Ashmore could not offer the luxury the Prince must have come to expect during his travels.
“You needn’t worry about offending the Prince,” Lucy assured Ella when the topic came up. “You could spit in that man’s face and he would treasure the memory.”
“I fear we’ve come all this way in vain,” Justine agreed wistfully. “He was sweet enough in our company, but did you see how he looked upon you, Ella? In his eyes, we must seem plain as cabbage in comparison.”
Ella felt a blush heat her cheeks beneath the rouge. “Surely you must be joking.”
Lucy giggled and flung her arms around Ella. “Silly girl, you are a flower in bloom. And I do believe the Prince fancies himself a gardener.” She winked, then threw back her head and laughed when Justine let out a scandalized gasp.
In spite of herself, Ella thought back to the moment she had looked into the Prince’s eyes. Kind eyes they had been, deep and intelligent and a little mournful. They were eyes that had seen a great many things, not all of them pleasant. And yet upon locking with hers, they had widened and become as those of a creature entirely new to the world.
At the time, she had attributed the expression to the brief moment of panic one experiences upon nearly taking a tumble. Had it truly been infatuation she had seen?
No matter. The Prince may be courteous and handsome and soft-eyed all he liked; Ella had neither time nor energy to spend on trite things such as romance. Even if she’d been in the proverbial market for love, her stepmother would never permit her to be courted, or worse yet, would tolerate it only to brutally cut the relationship off before Ella could secure her freedom and happiness.
She wasn’t even sure she liked him anyway. After all, they had barely spoken. He was a pretty face and a pleasant break from the peasants’ disdain, that was all.
“Perhaps he does see me in a favourable light,” Ella conceded. “But I would rather not take the chance.”
Even with her resolve firmly in place, it took some effort to force herself back into the role of host. When Ella finally left the Grizzwalds’ quarters and knocked on the Prince’s door, it opened almost immediately.
“Milady,” said the Prince in greeting. Clad in a green tunic and woollen trousers, curls springing up where his hair had begun to dry, he seemed somehow more human and approachable than the drenched nobleman Ella had escorted to this very room. He was rather broad in the shoulder and thigh, she couldn’t help noticing. Lord Ashmore’s garb fit him well.
He’d also opened the door himself rather than sending his manservant to do so.
It surely meant nothing.
“Your Highness,” Ella returned with a curtsy.
The Prince looked pained at that, lips pressing together in a thin line. He said nothing of it, however, and merely dipped his head politely. “How may I be of service?”
“I had hoped to ask you the same,” Ella said in what she hoped was a level and respectable voice. “Particularly where foodstuffs are concerned. Will you and your manservant be joining us for dinner?”
“I would hate to impose-”
“As I have informed the lovely ladies Grizzwald,” interrupted the manservant, “my Prince is a humble man and struggles to accept things he has not asked for. What he means to say is that dinner sounds delightful and we should love to attend.”
The Prince briefly closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, as though reining in a sharp word. “Yes,” he said in a controlled voice, opening his eyes again. “That sentiment precisely. Many thanks once again for your kindness and generosity.”
“Then follow me.” For his sake, Ella swallowed back her mirth at how he’d been bullied into agreeing as she turned to lead the way to the dining hall. The manservant was quick to follow, not waiting for his master to go before him.
There was a moment of hesitation before the Prince took up the rear. He quickly made up for the delay – by hurrying to walk at his servant’s side and not Ella’s as was his right, oddly enough.
Or at least it seemed odd until at the edge of her vision, Ella saw the manservant reach toward her ass with a lustful gleam in his eye. Before she could turn to confront him, the Prince caught his arm in a grip like a vise and began to lower it to his side again. It seemed to take little effort on his part; while tall and by no means delicate, the manservant lacked His Highness’s solidness.
“Is everything alright?” Ella asked, stopping and turning to raise her eyebrows at the two of them.
The manservant looked peeved. The Prince smiled politely and answered, “My manservant is still recovering from his day of revelry and tripped over his feet. I was merely steadying him.” He gave the manservant’s arm a warning squeeze and then let go. “Please, milady, don’t let his clumsiness hinder you.”
Clearly her honour was safe in his hands. “Very well, then.”
Their path to the dining hall concluded without further incident. There, Ella served up the feast she had spent the day preparing, claiming that the servants had been dispatched for the night when asked of their whereabouts. She could hardly eat anything herself out of sheer joy at beholding the occupied tables and hearing the hall echo with human voices raised in gaiety rather than terror. To disguise this debilitating joy that would surely raise questions if noticed, she kept herself busy serving food and whisking away dirtied dishes so none could tell she was on the verge of tears.
The servants and guards from House Grizzwald had scattered across the dining hall to eat where they saw fit. The Prince’s manservant wandered from table to table, flirting with all the women to varying degrees of success, while the Prince himself had quietly chosen a seat away from everyone else.
Ella watched with no end of amusement as Lucy and Justine joined him at his table, sandwiching the poor man betwixt them and trapping him in friendly conversation as easily as though he were their brother. It was fascinating to watch the emotions write themselves across his face as clear as well-practiced calligraphy as he listened and spoke in turn; one might almost wonder if the Prince were not accustomed to being the centre of attention.
Sensing eyes upon him, the Prince looked up. He saw Ella observing him and offered her a helpless smile. Though he’d smiled before, something about this occasion especially softened the grim set of his face and made his entire countenance seem earnest rather than morose.
It was impossible not to smile back. Ella did so and then quickly turned back to her work lest she become distracted. Damn the Grizzwalds’ idle gossip! Their words had planted a seed in her mind and it was fast sprouting into an uncontrollable tangle so that she barely understood her own thoughts!
Noble princes, the false image of grandeur… this was the most pleasantly interesting day of her young life and yet she could scarce keep herself from fleeing to the gardens for a reprieve. How glad she would be when she only had the Grizzwald girls to focus on!
This day felt like it would last forever.