I spent the better part of the next week attempting to leave High Relizia.
Dulciana did her best to avoid me, excusing herself and her sisters whenever I happened upon them somewhere in the palace. Despite the looks Ana-Cristina kept slinging my way, she never disobeyed her sister when Dulciana ordered her to follow. We'd exchanged few words since our first dinner, fewer still now that the king seemed always to arrive to dinner shortly behind me, sinking the room into silence until he took his leave. I never lingered either, still the unwelcome stranger intruding on a very broken family's private time.
Rather than torment the princesses to fill my days, I took it upon myself to explore my new lodgings, attempting to locate the secret passages Giles had mentioned. Sadly, I discovered none of them, though I'd certainly entertained enough passing servants by peeking behind portraits and tapestries in almost every hall in the palace.
When the hunt for passageways proved fruitless, I took to the streets of High Relizia, relishing the shade and the break in humidity that had blown in on a northern wind. There seemed to be only one road to Relizia proper, running through the very same heavily guarded gate I'd entered. The guards focused their attention mainly on those attempting to enter the mountaintop oasis, but while High Relizian servants had no problems leaving, I was never permitted to pass.
"We are under orders," the captain had said, politely pointing me back towards the palace.
He was not so polite when I attempted to pass the next day, dressed in a dark travelling cloak to conceal my face.
He was even less polite when I dressed in servant clothes, smuggled to me by Giles on my sixth day at the palace. My third time was definitely not the charm. Instead, it earned me an armed escort back to the palace, with more than a few Ardal curses slung my way.
I endured it all with a bright, idiotic smile on my face, devoted to my role as el príncipe idiota.
"If I may suggest," Giles said, as I reluctantly relinquished the servants' garb after recounting the tale of my very public return to the palace. "Perhaps you ought to forget about Lower Relizia for the time being. It is not a place one such as yourself should venture to alone."
I bit back my initial reply, which was to ask him whether or not he was my mother in disguise.
"I'm not defeated yet. But they can't fault me for exploring when this infernally hot palace is so boring," I said, dragging a chair over into the cross-breeze blowing in from the bedroom balcony. I collapsed into it, willing the scalding sun to disappear before I was forced to dress for dinner. Already the thought of formal attire, even with the change in humidity, was an unwelcome notion. Back in Highcastle, layers were imperative, even in the summer, to stave off the evening's chill. But in Ardalone, my fair northern skin couldn't handle the heat, let alone under layer after layer of formalwear, night after night.
"Ardalonian customs are different, your Highness," Giles said, for what must have been the thousandth time.
It wasn't the first time I'd mentioned the lack of activity in the palace. Highcastle Palace had always been bustling, ever since I was a boy. Whether mother was running a season in the summer or the palace had filled with nobles for the winter High Council meeting, there was always something happening.
Relizia Palace was a completely different story. There were no throngs of courtiers or afternoon teas. As Giles had explained many a time, Ardalone's nobility spent their mornings calling on one another, their afternoons napping in the cool shade of their lush gardens or airy palacios, and their evenings attending dinner parties.
Apparently there was such a thing as a napping room in Ardalone's mansions - cool, dark chambers in the quiet basements of the nobility. Cuartos de siesta, they were called, and when the morning of my seventh day at court dawned hotter than the last, I would have given my right hand for a napping room of my own.
The only thing that cheered me were the words Giles greeted me with as he set down my breakfast tray.
"I have news of the prince and princess," he said, not bothering with the curtains since I'd been desperate enough for a cool breeze that I'd slept with all of the balcony doors and windows thrown open.
"They've returned?" I asked, wondering how long Giles would allow me to saunter about the room without a shirt before muttering something about proper attire for a prince.
"Not yet, but soon," Giles said, apparently choosing to ignore my near nudity, probably in solidarity with my disdain for the heat. He was already perspiring, having stubbornly refused to don anything cooler than his traditional Pretanian valet uniform, jacket and all.
"I've learned that the princess has been living at a convent for the better part of the past seven years," Giles said, pouring me some tea as I settled at the breakfast table.
I stared at the steaming liquid, debating whether I ought to simply ask Giles for a tub of ice so I could spend my day wallowing in it.
"A convent?" I repeated.
"Indeed," Giles affirmed, "Her brother was apparently sent to fetch her home in anticipation of Dulciana's arrival. Palace rumours say that they were delayed on their way here."
"Delayed on the road," I repeated, stirring my tea.
"Suspicious indeed. But I've confirmed it with a number of sources. The princess has not been to court in years," Giles said. "Now eat up, your Highness. Princess Ana-Cristina's birthday ball is tonight. Perhaps it would be a good time to evaluate how you intend to keep to the treaty."
"Yes, mother," I said, fixing him with my best impression of mother's icy glare. Giles didn't even bother to harrumph, instead setting his attention upon choosing my attire for the day.
Ana-Cristina's birthday ball, as if I could forget. She'd prattled on about it incessantly with her sisters at dinner, the lot of them once again assuming I couldn't understand Ardal. She'd listed every one of her many suitors who would be in attendance, all while Dulciana had fought to keep from scowling.
I didn't blame the older princess for her reaction, especially when there had been no celebration to speak of to fete her return. That the king was lavishing such a party for his third eldest daughter's seventeenth birthday was a slap in the face for Dulciana, meant to reinforce how unimportant her return was in the eyes of the king.
I'd have to be careful, though, for the next celebration the king announced for Dulciana could very well be her wedding.
To me.
A knock at the suite door interrupted my thoughts, Giles shooing me into the bedchamber to find a shirt before he answered. I reluctantly pulled on the first one I could find, too curious about who would be calling so early to care about the heat, for once.
"Your Highness, his Majesty the king has invited you to join him for breakfast," Giles said, "Let's get you dressed."
I peered over his shoulder before he could close the bedchamber door, a tall, dark-haired palace guard loitering in the entrance to the suite. His eyes narrowed as he inspected me before Giles closed the door between us, nothing friendly in his gaze.
The guard was still waiting when I emerged, fully dressed, some time later. He hadn't taken the liberty of seating himself, but he leaned against the wall, his eyes running over the room as if he owned the place.
"I'm to escort you, your Highness," the guard said, his Ardalonian accent more muted than I'd have expected for a mere guard. The bow he gave me, however, was decidedly curt, as it had been with every other guard I'd encountered.
I preceded him out the door without a word and, as we walked, I was under the distinct impression that he was assessing me out of the corner of his eye much the way I was assessing him.
"You're not like the other guards," I said finally, as we emerged into the morning sun in the gardens.
From the moment he'd strolled into my room, there had been something different about him, whether it was the impertinent way he'd scrutinized me or the easy way he'd leaned against the wall as if he and I were equals. He was older than me, of that I was certain, but not by much. As we walked, I noted the way his muscled build moved with the fluid grace of a predator, examining the details on his uniform that I hadn't noticed with the other guards. He wore a golden cloak over his black leather armour, a crown-shaped pin securing said cloak around his shoulders. The other guards had been dressed almost entirely in black and grey, utilitarian uniforms more functional than aesthetic.
This guard, however, was well-groomed, something the other grunts who'd escorted me home from the High Relizia gates hadn't been. His hair was combed into place and his boots were shining with fresh polish, not to mention his negligible accent when addressing me in English...
"I shall take that as a compliment, your Highness," he said.
He offered no further explanation.
We continued in silence as he led me into the royal tower, up a spiralling staircase almost to the top. He didn't slow his pace for a moment, but thankfully I was able to keep up without huffing and puffing like Ambassador Wells. When we finally came to a stop outside a set of doors, I didn't miss the smirk on his face as he knocked.
A servant opened the door from inside and, before I could enter, the guard side-stepped in front of me, strolling in before me.
Prick, I thought.
"Armando," the king said, looking up from the spread of breakfast foods on the table before him, adding in Ardal, "Certainly took you long enough."
Beyond the king, a sprawling terrace looked out over High Relizia and the commercial port in the distance, a cool breeze ruffling the papers on the table, the western view providing a respite from the bright morning sun. The table was set for six, but only the king's plate appeared to be touched, the other seats decidedly vacant. The room was smaller than the dining room we used for dinner, but the chairs looked more comfortable and the wall hangings were decidedly cozier.
Giles hadn't lied, the view would be spectacular for sunsets.
"Apologies, my king. The foreigner needed time to make himself presentable to esteemed royalty such as yourself," Armando, the guard, said in Ardal. The king harrumphed, the corners of his mouth clearly fighting a smirk.
"Come, sit," the king said finally, gesturing for me to take a seat at the table, adding in Ardal as I took my seat, "Armando, you will stay to escort him back and ensure there are no further attempts at the gates, understood?"
"Sí, su Majestad," Armando said, bowing far lower than he had for me, before taking a step back to stand at attention beside the door.
"What a lovely breakfast," I said, my príncipe idiota grin in place as I smiled at the king, pretending to be oblivious to their words all while fighting down my frustration at having earned Armando as a permanent shadow. I wouldn't be able to freely explore any more, not with the likes of Armando tailing me to be sure I made no further attempts to leave High Relizia.
"I have asked you here to discuss my daughter's birthday ball tonight," the king said, not bothering to wait for me to be served. "You will escort Dulciana as her betrothed, but the pair of you will not be announced so as not to detract from Ana-Cristina's entrance."
I fought to keep from cocking an eyebrow. That was a low blow indeed, but once again meant more for Dulciana than for me.
"Of course, whatever you decide," I said, nodding like the idiot prince I was pretending to be. The king surveyed me warily, as if not daring to believe his decision would go over so easily with me.
"I would also very much enjoy if you would attempt to spend more time with your betrothed. She has had enough time with her sisters. The palace will begin to talk if you two continue to avoid one another," he continued, pinning me with his assessing gaze. I nodded despite my mouthful of honeyed pastry.
"I would enjoy that as well," I lied.
I wouldn't, not in the slightest, but more time with Dulciana meant more time to puzzle out exactly what she was planning to avoid marrying me.
And once I learned what her plan was, I could bend it to my advantage.
"Mind that you stay away from Ana-Cristina," the king said finally, patting at his bearded mouth with his napkin. "She has a habit of wanting what is not hers."
With that, the king rose, not a word of farewell as he exited through a door hidden behind a tapestry featuring a pair of warring galleons. I stared after him, fighting to keep from chuckling at the sheer absurdity of this palace and its occupants. Instead, I sighed, turning my attention back to the food.
"Shall I escort you back to your rooms?" Armando said, a pair of servants materializing to clear the king's plate.
"No, I think I'll finish my breakfast first," I said, serving myself some eggs, bacon, and potatoes as I enjoyed the view over the city I had yet to explore.
I didn't have to look back at him to know that he was scowling.
**A/N: I'm sorry for the delay in posting this part! As those of you who live in North America might have heard, a fairly large bridal company went bankrupt this week so now they're no longer fulfilling orders...like the one I'd placed for my bridesmaids' gowns. Needless to say, the week has been spent running from bridal shop to bridal shop to find a backup, so my writing time was cut short!
That being said, I'm hoping to be able to post the next update on Wednesday, as usual, provided there are no further dress hiccups.
Thanks for your patience, lovely readers!**