Her Rightful Place

4: The Spark

"Shall I prepare for our return to Cloiche Fuar, Your Highness?" the Duke of Pelanshire inquires, referring to the Royal Palace of Mordalce, as the Prince enters the room they have reserved at the inn. The Prince sighs wearily and shakes his head.

"Enough of the titles, Jerôme. You know how I hate them. And we will not be leaving tonight. The seamstress has refused the Queen's command. I fear for all of our lives," Xavier replies gravely, closing the door behind himself and slumping against it.

"Can we not take her by force?"

"Nay. You will never believe me, but she is guarded by a ferocious enchanted broom. As soon as I mentioned force it chased me from the premises."

The Duke laughs incredulously. "Xavier, you know you speak madness. The Queen will never take that pitiful excuse. Witchcraft was outlawed and all the witches burned while your father's reign was still in infancy. The last witch burning is more than four years past, for your mother also pursued that policy."

"Aye, you speak true, but the seamstress claims that she knows no witchcraft. Instead she says the former seamstress was the witch who enchanted the broom and that she never lifted her magic from it before she was executed."

Jerôme considers this for several moments. "That may be so. I suggest we investigate further in the morning, unless you can come up with a good reason that a mere household object kept you from the seamstress."

"The broom was quite a formidable opponent, considering I had left my weapons here to avoid intimidating the girl. I have a mind to take the broom back as well and employ it as a security guard."

Jerôme chuckles. "You would." He pauses. "I suppose that is legitimate, though the Queen will not think it so. What of the girl? Does she live up to the hearsay?"

Xavier smiles slightly. "Aye, her skill is formidable, from what I could see. She is common in speech and dress but most uncommon in looks and wit, and a more royal authority and grace I have never seen on any woman, nor do I wish to see."

Jerôme smiles knowingly. "So even if she will be no royal seamstress, she may yet serve some other royal purpose," the Duke surmises.

"What, you think her to be my wife?"

"You are enamored of her, are you not?"

"I have only met her this night, and even if it were so, the Queen would never approve of a village girl as my bride, even one such as Mireille--"

"Mireille?! Say you she is called Mireille?"

"Aye, what of it?"

"Know you not of another girl by that name, one whose suitability as your bride none could question?"

"If you mean the Princess of Vyrunia, surely you recall that she has been missing since the outbreak of the Vyrunian Civil War fifteen years past. She is most likely dead, and the Queen would never permit me to wed a ghost, either. I hardly think she will permit me to wed at all, considering that immediately thereafter I could take my rightful place as King and do with her as I saw fit--"

"But to wed is currently your only viable path to that noble goal. Consider you this: Mireille is no common name in either this country or Vyrunia, and the river Adrennes, from which this village derives its name, is begun high in the Vyrunian mountains many leagues away. This same river flows remarkably close to the Palace of Roses, where Vyrunian monarchs have for centuries resided. To send the Princess into hiding by river would be most wise on the part of King Christophe and Queen Généviève, for how else could she disappear without a trace? And what is to say that they would not send her out of the country entirely, even to a lowly village such as this? It would be a brilliant tactical maneuver, to be sure."

Xavier mulls this over for a long moment.

"Truly you are the wisest adviser a Prince could ever wish for. But the Princess was at least three years of age when she was sent into hiding, certainly old enough to remember her heritage, and would not Christophe and Généviève know where their beloved daughter was hidden and retrieve her once the war was ended?"

The Duke shrugs. "'Tis none so simple, Xavier. Anything could have happened to the child to make her forget, and fifteen years is a long time to remember what life was for only three years, particularly in an environment so opposite that to which she was accustomed. As for the rulers of Vyrunia, well, would it not make sense for them not to know where their daughter was hidden? For if they lost the war, then even under torture they could not reveal her location and thus could have hope that she would come out of hiding and reclaim her rightful place, or that those who hid her would ensure that she did so. My guess is that those who hid her had to serve in the war and were thereby killed before they could pass on knowledge of the Princess's hiding place."

"Possible it is, but most unlikely, would you not agree?"

"So is being chased away from a house by an enchanted broom, but you claim that such a thing has occurred. I think it far more likely that your seamstress is the missing Princess than you seem willing to believe. Besides, it may not matter if she is really the Princess or not, if you wish to wed her. If she can be a match for the Princess and be trained to act as such, who will be the wiser?"

Xavier hesitates. Such a plan would not only be dishonest, but it would also interfere with Mireille's evidently strong wish to remain in Adrennes as the village seamstress. "'Twill not matter one whit if we cannot convince Her Majesty to let the girl live here in peace when she comes hither tomorrow morning," he sighs finally.

"You speak true as always. Well, we have our work cut out for us, to be sure, and thus I think it time we went to bed. Rest is the only preparation we can hope to have for such an encounter."