So This is Love

by Elizabeth Lim

  He swept a bow. “Your Royal Highness, thank you for agreeing to this audience with me.”

  “What is it?” said the prince, his gloom-ridden eyes only briefly flitting up from his book to meet the Grand Duke’s.

  “Your Highness, I understand that you are disappointed in my service.” Ferdinand’s words tasted sour, so he lifted his tone an octave lest the ill flavor seep into his voice. “I wished to apologize for failing to find the maiden with the glass slipper.”

  “Apologize?” The prince’s tone was harsh. “Somehow I doubt that’s the only reason you’re here.”

  “Come, Your Highness, I realize you are distraught—at me, and at this entirely harrowing episode. . . .” Ferdinand’s voice trailed off. Truth be told, it was most harrowing for him. Even now, days after his search had concluded, when he closed his eyes, all he could see were ladies’ feet. All he could hear were the strident cries: “It’s my slipper! It’s my slipper!”

  Feet everywhere—it was the stuff of nightmares. Big feet, little feet, toes and heels and calluses and ankles . . .

  He broadened his smile. “Can we not let bygones be bygones?”

  His plea did little to soften the prince, but Charles at least put down his book. “What is it you want?”

  Ferdinand drew a breath, the deep sort he always took before saying something important, something that needed to be said without pause. “Your father and I wanted to impress upon you a reminder that you are the crown prince, Your Highness, the only heir to our luminous kingdom. As such, it is your duty to consider marrying for the good of your country and your people—”

  The prince pounded his fist on the table. “I don’t want to hear any more of this.”

  “But, Your Highness,” Ferdinand persisted, “it would please your father. He has been rather distraught lately, in private—so as to not worry you.”

  Charles hesitated. “Distraught over what?”

  Aha, now he had him!

  “The Princess of Lourdes is quite a beauty,” said Ferdinand instead, unrolling one of several portraits he had brought. “And I hear the princess of—”

  “Distraught over what?” interrupted Charles. “Ferdinand, if you are using my father as a ploy for me to marry a girl of your choice . . .”

  “Sir, I would never!”

  “Then I’ll hear it from my father himself. I do not need advice from you.”

  “This is an opportunity for you to serve your country, Your Highness,” Ferdinand said soothingly. “Aurelais is not as strong as it once was. You must consider the future.”

  “I’ll consider it when I hear it from my father’s lips, not yours.”

  Ferdinand’s mouth clamped shut. When he spoke again, his voice was thin and tight. “As you wish, Your Highness. Now if you’ll excuse me, I understand when I’ve been dismissed.”

  The duke made a stiff bow, then stormed out of the room.

  “These young people,” he muttered when the prince could not hear. “They will be this country’s ruin.”

  His teeth gritted, Ferdinand continued down the palace halls, growing more agitated by the minute until he reached his offices.

  The first thing he did was pull up Dr. Coste’s report on the king’s health.

  There has been little change in His Majesty’s well-being. He has made a full recovery from the rheumatism he suffered this past winter, and any variation in his health—such as his recent poor sleep—may be attributed to stress. I have taken into account your concern and suggestion that His Majesty reduce his activity, but Your Grace may be pleased to know that at this time it is not necessary for him to relinquish his appearances with the Royal Council. Rather, such stimulation may improve his condi—

  Ferdinand crumpled the note in his fist. Stress! What did these bumpkin physicians know? It was time for His Majesty to cease attending the council; King George had long since stopped adding any value to the meetings, anyway.

  And now His Majesty refused to take tea with him after dinner. “Who knew I’d sleep better without listening to you prattle on and on about policy? Go speak with Charles instead. He’s been eager to become more involved with the council.”

  Charles, indeed!

  The prince’s return from university had thrown a wrench into Ferdinand’s plan, painstakingly constructed over months and months. Now, if the king were to suddenly retire, Charles would be poised to take over. And given the prince’s evident dislike for him, there was a good chance he would have Ferdinand stripped of his power as the king’s most trusted adviser and confidant.

  That absolutely could not happen. And he would see that it didn’t. If nothing else, the Grand Duke was a man of carefully laid plans. His rise in court had been in part by the grace of his family name, but it had also taken years of meticulous engineering and carefully made alliances for him to gain the respect of the Royal Council.

  He would have to accelerate his plan. But how would he go about it without drawing suspicion? His evening teas with the king had been perfect, allowing him to slowly erect the foundation for his scheme, but that was no longer an option. Besides, the time for action was upon him. Ferdinand drummed his fingers on the table.

  Recent poor sleep, the physician’s note had said. Was it true that the king was taking a draught to aid his slumber? That could provide just the opportunity he needed.

  Genevieve’s new girl had all but inadvertently revealed critical information. She takes a sleeping draught, the maiden had said. The same one as the king.

  A sleeping draught was an unimportant revelation, one somebody else probably wouldn’t have accepted from the girl as reasonable payment for installing her in the palace.

  But after years of careful observation within its confines, Ferdinand had learned that, more often than not, what seemed the most insignificant pieces of information could turn the tides in his favor.

  And he had a feeling that this one would play into his hands favorably, indeed.

  Charles sighed, relieved when Ferdinand finally left. He had never liked the man, and since returning home from his studies, his dislike had only intensified.

  For the life of him, he could not understand why his father placed so much trust in the Grand Duke.

  Perhaps some things are meant to be mysteries, he thought wistfully, like the identity of the girl with the glass slipper.

  Charles balled his fists at his sides. He hated the possibility that Ferdinand might be right about the search being pointless.

  A quiet knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

  “Your Highness?” spoke his attendant, Pierre.

  “What is it?”

  “Your aunt, the duchess, sir. She awaits your company in the South Courtyard.”

  Charles hadn’t forgotten, but he had lost track of the time. He had been doing that often lately.

  “Please fetch my hat and my university jacket,” he told Pierre. After a pause, he added, “On second thought, I’ll bring them myself.”

  His university jacket, as he called it, was an ill-fitting double-breasted coat he’d worn every day when away from the palace—and he loved it. It was the only garment he owned that did not have gold buttons or epaulets, or fabric so white it looked like it’d taken an army of laundresses to press clean. It lay neatly folded on a wooden bench beside his writing desk, surrounded by two stacks of books precisely piled to obscure its location.

  He threaded his arm through each of the lightly frayed sleeves. To his amusement, the holes in its lining had been patched with scraps of silk, and its worn wool had been pressed and cleaned. At least he had managed to stop the seamstresses from replacing all the buttons or trying to hide the old tea and coffee stains!

  He’d won it from a classmate on a bet that he couldn’t go one hour in town without being recognized as the crown prince of Aurelais. He’d made it sixty-five minutes before someone finally bowed.

  Now it was one of his most prized possessions, and he wore it whenever he wished to not be recogniz
ed. Which, to be fair, was essentially all the time.

  Charles ignored Pierre’s raised eyebrow and headed for the South Courtyard. He had promised to take Aunt Genevieve for a ride through Valors that morning, but he hadn’t promised to give the tour as the crown prince. No, today he’d simply be Charles, her nephew.

  He had a feeling Aunt Genevieve would understand the way his father did not. Could not. That was why when she had asked him to take her into the city, he couldn’t refuse.

  Of all the royal coach house’s carriages, Charles commissioned the most ordinary one for the day’s tour, the one he and his father took when they didn’t want to draw attention on the road. It was plain as any merchant’s coach, bearing no flag with his family’s royal crest, and no coat of arms painted on the doors.

  Sure enough, Aunt Genevieve was already seated inside, her tiara sparkling in the wan morning light. She waved her fan when she saw him.

  “You seem to have inherited your father’s punctuality,” she said dryly. She looked him up and down. “And the stable hand’s sense of fashion.”

  “Good morning, Aunt Genevieve,” the prince said in greeting. He darted a glance at the empty seat beside her; part of him had almost hoped she’d brought her attendant so that he might have a second chance at meeting her. But his aunt was alone. Of course she was alone!

  So why had his heart skipped a beat in anticipation of possibly seeing that girl with the blue eyes again?

  Quickly, he recovered himself and bowed. “My apologies, Aunt Genevieve. It seems I’ve kept you waiting again.”

  The duchess clicked her tongue. “It’s becoming quite the habit with you, Charles. First my welcome lunch, now this. I have half a mind to go back inside and catch up on my sleep.” She waited for her threat to sink in. Before Charles could respond, she continued, “Luckily, it’s a beautiful morning for a ride out into Valors, and I’ve already dismissed my girl until lunch.”

  Charles cocked his head slightly, tempted to ask where her attendant had gone.

  “Come on, get inside. The sun isn’t getting any younger, and neither am I.”

  With a smile, the prince obediently entered the carriage and signaled for the driver to take off.

  As the coach lurched to a start, his aunt grabbed the side of her seat and snapped her fan closed. “Tell me, was it your idea to fetch me in this gourd of a coach, or your father’s?”

  “Mine, Aunt Genevieve. I thought we might see more of the city if we weren’t recognized. If you are uncomfortable, we can change to a different coach.”

  “No.” To Charles’s surprise, his aunt doffed her tiara, tossing it aside. “Always scratches my head, anyway. Besides, if you’re going to be dressed like a commoner, I am certainly not going around looking like a duchess.”

  Charles leaned back, hiding a smile. No wonder he’d always liked his aunt.

  “Look at you, my boy.” Genevieve patted his shoulders. “Such a strapping young man. You must have gotten your good looks from your mother. Heavens knows they weren’t from George.”

  The prince laughed in spite of himself. “I’ve missed you, Aunt Genevieve.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” The angles of her face softened as she considered her nephew. She inhaled. “Funny, I left the palace because I didn’t want to live life strung up like a puppet, and now that I’m back I lament not visiting more. I’ve missed too many years with my favorite nephew—”

  “Last I recall, Aunt, I am your only nephew.”

  The duchess crossed her arms and gave him a stern look. “Much as I am fond of you, Charles, this tardiness is rather unbecoming of the future king.” She raised her hand before he could explain. “I’ve heard from palace gossip that you’re in a lovelorn state. Lovesickness is no excuse for discourtesy, do you understand?”

  “Yes, Aunt Genevieve. I’m sorry. Truly. It’s just that . . . I feel lost. Like I’ve met the one person who’s meant for me, and she’s vanished.”

  At his confession, she softened further, her features melting into a smile that rounded out her cheeks and reminded him faintly of his father.

  “What’s so special about this girl?” she asked, leaning slightly forward, her eyes taking on a mischievous sparkle. “Inquiring minds wish to know—tell me about her, Charles. You could have the hand of any lady in the kingdom, any lady in the world, even. Why are you so set on this one? Rather rude of her to take off so suddenly!”

  Charles hesitated, surprised by how relieved he was by his aunt’s questioning. He hadn’t talked about her to anyone—not about his feelings, anyway. Maybe this was what he needed to help sort out his thoughts. To get out of the haze that had clouded his mind ever since the ball.

  “Any other girl would only want to marry me to become a princess,” he replied finally. “She . . . she didn’t even know I was the prince.”

  At that, Genevieve wrinkled her nose. “Plenty of ladies pretend to be ignorant, Charles. It’s a coy game that they play—”

  “Not her,” Charles insisted. “Not her.” He tugged at one of the buttons sewn onto the tufted cushion against his back. “There was something so sincere about her, so kind. I didn’t even get her name. I’m beginning to worry that she was nothing more than a dream.”

  “Dreams don’t leave behind glass slippers,” said Genevieve sensibly. “For that matter, who would think to wear glass shoes, let alone to a ball?”

  “I told you,” said the prince, “she’s different.”

  His aunt sighed. “You are hopeless, Charles. I see there’s no talking you out of this, so let’s talk about something else. I take it your studies went well.”

  “Well enough,” he replied absentmindedly. “I did find it refreshing to study philosophy, history, and diplomacy instead of protocol or dancing.”

  While his aunt chattered on about how her husband, Arthur, had been a lecturer once at the Royal University, Charles gazed out the window. On his way home a week ago, he’d marveled at how little his hometown had changed. The oak trees, the wide pastures skirting the countryside, the rows of brick houses and the estates inhabited by the minor nobles, the winding road to the palace. Yet how different they seemed.

  He couldn’t place his finger on it, but he saw more now. He noticed the people as well as the land. Surely, what he had learned during his university courses had trained his mind to be that of a learned and knowledgeable king, but there was more to ruling than that.

  The prince signaled for the carriage to slow down.

  “What is it?” asked his aunt, startled by the apparent change in plan.

  Charles opened the door, escorting his aunt into the town. It was still early, and no one paid him a second glance, but Genevieve was starting to get a few stares. They couldn’t stay out long. “I spent almost my entire childhood behind the palace walls. Going to the university was the first time I got to see the rest of the world.”

  “What did you see?”

  As they turned the corner, wending down a curved path, Charles spoke softly. “Poverty. Our people, starving. Orphans and beggars without anywhere to go.” The prince reached into his trouser pockets and took out a gold coin. “I see it in the capital now, too. I’d never noticed before.”

  He placed the gold coin by a sleeping mother and child, wishing he’d thought to bring food as well. But it would have to do. It was only a start. Once he gained his father’s confidence, he would do more. Much more.

  When they returned to the carriage, his aunt watched him thoughtfully. “Going away did change you.”

  “I heard rumors, Aunt Genevieve, that your husband cared deeply about improving conditions for the poor. That my father sent him away for it. Why . . . why would he do that?”

  “That wasn’t the reason your father sent him away,” said Genevieve abruptly. “I don’t want to talk about it—it’s better left in the past.”

  “Forgive me, Aunt.”

  “If anyone should be seeking my forgiveness, it’s Ferdinand, not you.”

&nbs
p; When she wouldn’t elaborate, Charles gently changed the subject. “The Grand Duke isn’t exactly in my good graces, either. He wants me to marry the Princess of Lourdes. I would consider it if I truly thought we were in danger of war. But I fear his real motive is to expand Aurelais’s power to Lourdes.”

  Charles continued, “My father and I should be looking to improving this country for our people, not enlarging our territory. Times are changing. While I was at school, I would slip into town occasionally, unnoticed, and observe the people. How it surprised me to see them unhappy, some of them barely able to afford a roof over their heads, others begging on the streets. There were riots, too—riots against the nobility that Ferdinand denies ever happened. If the council won’t address the problems arising within our own country, then I must.”

  “What would you do about it?” said Genevieve quietly.

  “That is the difficult part, is not it?” confessed the prince. “I’ll make enemies of powerful men like the Grand Duke, and the people will dislike me by nature for being the head of the regime that oppresses them. But I want to help them. Truly, I do.”

  “Your father and mother were blessed to have you as a son,” Genevieve said. “They tried for many years to have a child, you know.”

  Three brothers and two sisters had died before him. Charles had never met any of his siblings, and the physicians had pleaded with his mother not to try for a sixth child, citing her health and her age. She had persevered, but in giving birth to Charles, her health had suffered.

  A familiar wave of guilt overcame Charles, and he turned to the window, sucking in a gulp of air.

  His aunt touched his arm. “Your father only wants the best for you. He doesn’t want you to be alone.”

  “I understand, but I just returned home. I don’t know why he’s in such a rush for me to marry.”

  Genevieve hesitated, then she drew the windows closed and lowered her voice. “George plans to abdicate.”

  The confession sent a jolt through the young prince. He blinked back his surprise. “What?”