by Paige Elwood
He arrived in his workshop breathless and sweating after having to try and stay ten steps ahead of his father, who was on his way to the throne room. The last thing Max wanted was another day of not working. He rolled up his sleeves and set to work on his main project. The release lever had been sticking and he needed to identify the cause and resolve it.
His workshop was lit by candles, with no windows or natural light, and by the time he finished and crept out of the passageway he had little time to spare before his dinner with the Princess. He looked down at his clothes, full of sawdust and damp, dirty patches where he had brushed up against the damp, narrow walls.
He raced up the stairs and to his bedchambers, changing quickly into cleaner clothing and running his hands through his hair to release the specks of sawdust that had settled there. When he finally looked presentable he raced back down the stairs. Why was everything so rushed today?
He approached the solar, pausing for a moment outside. He was looking forward to spending some time with the Princess without their parents around. Perhaps with some time to talk about their own passions they could find common ground, some interests they shared. Maybe they could even begin to develop some real feelings for each other.
Princess Katherine raised her head when Max entered the solar, her brown eyes wide. Seated by the window she made a pretty picture, and the moonlight creeping through the window gave a silvery luminescence to her already porcelain skin.
Suddenly feeling awkward, Max adjusted his tunic before striding across to the chair at the other end of the table. Their chaperone, Mila, was seated at a table next to them, so as to be visible but not in the way. Max nodded in greeting to her, recognizing her as Queen Elena’s ladies’ maid.
“Good evening, Princess Katherine,” he greeted her.
“Good evening Prince Maximillian,” Katherine said.
“Please, we are to be married. Perhaps you could simply call me Max?”
The Princess seemed to mull over the thought. Then she nodded.
“May I call you Katherine?”
“Yes, Katherine is fine.”
The serving girl was the same one from the previous evening, and Max was pleased to see they were not having soup this evening. He looked down at the pink and shiny patch of skin on his hand, still tender from the scalding soup. The serving girl caught him looking and flushed crimson. Max gave her a reassuring smile.
The cook had laid out quite a feast. There were chunks of steaming hot fresh bread and butter and hearty bowls of stew. Max's stomach rumbled loudly. He had been so busy working on his invention he hadn’t had a chance to eat lunch. Henry had shared his bread and cheese with him, which Max had appreciated, but he didn’t eat very much. He didn’t want to take the food from the old man’s table when he had so little to begin with.
Max spooned the rich stew into his mouth. He savored the tomato broth that was delicately flavored with herbs from the castle's extensive garden. Their cook was said to be the best cook in all of the nearby kingdoms.
Princess Katherine seemed to be enjoying her food less than Max. She had eaten only two tiny spoonfuls.
“Do you not like the food?” he asked.
She flushed a little. “I do, I am just homesick for my own castle and the food I would eat there.”
Max rubbed at his chin. In all the time she’d been here it hadn’t really occurred to him that she was homesick. He had not thought about how hard it might be to leave the castle and kingdom you’d known your whole life and have to live in another. It was something princes rarely had to worry about.
“We will get the cook to make some of your own native dishes,” he said.
She smiled. “You’re very kind.”
“I want you to be comfortable here. Happy, even. If there’s something I can do to make that so then please just tell me.”
He thought he caught a flash of sadness in her eyes, but she nodded and continued to eat. After a couple more mouthfuls she placed her spoon down. “Forgive me. I did not mean to be rude.”
“I didn’t think you were rude.” Max’s brow creased.
“Good,” she said, continuing to eat.
They ate a while in silence, Max trying to eat in a refined manner and not shovel the food into his mouth like a beggar receiving his first hot meal in months. Finally, he reached the bottom of the bowl and mopped up the remaining stew with a hunk of the bread before pushing the dish away slightly.
“Tell me about your kingdom,” Max said.
“It is very pretty, with lots of farmlands and rolling hills,” she said. “Most of our subjects are farmers and merchants, and they cheer loudly when they see the royal carriage pass.”
“Do you think you will eventually find my kingdom beautiful?” Max asked, not wanting to hear another story about how beloved the Bohemian family were. He supposed in a time of peace and low taxes all kings were loved.
“It is beautiful. I am sure that in just a short time I will think of it as home and love it even more than my own lands.”
Max watched her mouth move as she spoke, wondering what it might be like to kiss those perfect lips. It wouldn’t be his first kiss, but his first kisses had been nothing but childish encounters as a young teenager. They had been enjoyable, but nothing more. Would it be more if he kissed the Princess now?
A delicate cough reminded him that Queen Elena’s ladies’ maid Mila was chaperoning the dinner, and he put any thoughts of kissing the Princess out of his mind. Perhaps another time.
“Did you enjoy the stew, Mila?” he asked her.
“I did, it was delicious.” Mila’s expression was generally dour like that of her mistress, but there was a twinkle in her eye that made Max warm to her a little. He suspected that Mila was much less stern than she appeared.
He wished he could catch the same twinkle in Princess Katherine’s eye. All too often the Princess said the right words, but Max couldn’t feel any real emotions from her. He wondered again if that might change after they kissed.
The dinner was finished, and the silence was heavier than the stew in Max’s stomach. He wracked his brains for something to say.
“Would you like a walk in the garden?” he asked.
“Yes,” Katherine said, looking at Mila for confirmation. Mila nodded, and Katherine stood, taking the arm Max had offered. Mila stayed a couple of paces behind the young couple.
They strolled around the walled courtyard, the heady scent of the iris blossoms perfuming the air. The Princess remained mostly silent, and Max tried to think what she might like to talk about.
“Don't you think the stars are pretty?” He pointed up the night sky, where hundreds of stars twinkled like diamonds in the inky darkness above them.
“They are beautiful,” the Princess said.
“Do you know that some of them have names?” The Princess shook her head.
“That there,” Max said, pointing at a cluster of stars, “is called Orion's belt.”
The Princess gazed upward where Max was pointing, a look of wonder lighting her face. It was the first time he’d seen her truly interested in anything.
“And that one there,” he continued, “the one shining brighter than the others. Do you know what that is?”
“No,” the Princess said.
“That’s the North Star. Travelers and sailors use it to guide their way. It helps prevent them getting lost.”
He pointed out several constellations, and the Princess listened in rapt concentration. Max was just beginning to enjoy himself when Mila said. “My lady, it is time for you to sit for your portrait.”
Max groaned inwardly. His own portrait was only half done so he would have to spend some time sitting for that. Although technically he was standing. He'd much rather have been spending time in his workshop, but once again he was going to have to sacrifice inventing time for his royal duties.
Max entered the castle with the Princess and Mila. He found his mother waiting for him.
“Where h
ave you been?” she asked. “The painter has been waiting for half an hour.”
“I was having dinner with Princess Katherine, and we took a walk in the garden,” Max said.
His mother seemed appeased by this, and he followed her to where the painter was all set up and ready.
“My apologies,” Max said, “I was entertaining the Princess.”
“No need to apologize, Your Highness,” he said, a paintbrush in one hand, and another balanced behind his ear. “If you can take up your position?”
He waved the paintbrush in his hand towards the unlit fire. Max took his place. It was the middle of summer, so the fire was not lit, but in the portrait it would appear to be roaring with flames. The painter came and adjusted his stance slightly before stepping back and surveying him.
“Yes, stay like this.” He went back to his easel, the brush swooping wildly against the canvas, and his face screwed in concentration.
Max had never experienced anything quite so tedious as posing for a portrait. Standing still for hours was much harder than it looked.
He was beginning to grow incredibly tired when the painter finally announced that he was almost finished and would not need Max to stay any longer. It was generally considered bad luck for the person to see the portrait before it was finished, and the painter would normally cover it over, but this time he had forgotten, and Max caught a sneaky glimpse as he left the room.
He was shocked by the version of himself in the picture. Although it was recognizably him, it was also not him. Yes, it was his own dark hair — although the painter had depicted it as slightly less unruly — and his own blue eyes and general facial features. However, his jaw had been squared, and his shoulders made broader.
He appeared to be the very picture of masculinity in the portrait. He didn't think he looked effeminate in real life, but he couldn't help but be a little offended that the painter had decided that he needed to be made to look more masculine.
He made his way to his bedchamber, again disappointed at the small amount of time he’d been able to spend on the Onager. The tutor was due to arrive tomorrow, so that was just going to make things even more difficult. Perhaps he could leave Henry clear instructions each day and… no, that wouldn’t work. Henry was perfectly capable, but he wasn’t getting any younger, and his normal work around the castle left him tired and his old bones aching. Spending hours working on Max’s invention wasn’t going to help with that.
He tossed and turned in his bed, feeling restless. The wedding was approaching fast, and every day that passed meant they were one day closer to a potential invasion. When sleep finally claimed him, it was fitful, and his dreams were haunted by flashes of an unfamiliar face. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a smattering of freckles across a delicate, upturned nose.
Chapter 10
The next day, Sarah awoke with a jittery, unsettled feeling, and she was covered in a fine sheen of perspiration. The phantom feeling of the prince’s lips against hers and his hands around her waist still lingered. She went for a short run to shake the strangeness off. After a shower, she felt refreshed and ready to continue with her trip. She packed the files from the drawer in her Michael Kors bag and set off to visit the Convent of St Agnes. It was her final day before she started her research work, and she’d planned a full itinerary for the day.
It was a wonderful old building with a fascinating collection of art and sculptures. She particularly enjoyed the guided tour explaining the historical architecture and the exhibition of architectural fragments in the lapidarum. She whiled away at least an hour strolling through the beautiful sculpture garden, and another admiring the collection of paintings in the gallery. She found it difficult to concentrate on the paintings as every so often the portrait of Prince Max would pop into her mind and bring with it all the feelings from her dream the evening before.
The sun was nearing the final part of its journey across the sky by the time she had seen all of the exhibits in the convent. She checked her watch and realized she had only two hours before her appointment to view the artifacts up close.
To pass the time, she found a picturesque cafe overlooking the Vltava and ordered a mocha. It was the perfect people-watching spot, and the gentle evening breeze added to the appeal of the spot. She watched the people pass by while sipping the hot, sweet liquid. Butterflies danced in her stomach. Calm down, she told herself. You’re just going to look at some artifacts, you’re not getting married or anything!
She tried to zone out and enjoy the moment, but she couldn't stop thinking about visiting the castle again. Her additional research hadn't brought back much information, and she was hoping that she would be able to glean something from inspecting the portrait and the ring up close.
She glanced down at the feminine replica of the ring in the case that adorned her own finger, and she wondered how it could match the royal ring so perfectly. With each movement of her hand, the rubies glinted brilliantly in the late afternoon sun.
Sarah had never seen another piece quite like it. She’d seen other rings with Celtic knotwork as part of the band, and even other rings with rubies, but nothing was quite like this particular design. The workmanship was exquisite, and Sarah knew it was quite old — although she'd never had it actually valued or dated. If her DNA test and her father’s memories were correct, she had some Czech ancestry. Perhaps the ring she owned had been created as a lookalike to that particular royal ring?
By the time she’d finished her coffee, it was almost 6pm. She gathered her things and left the café, going against the tide of tourists leaving the castle and other Old Town tourist attractions as they closed their doors for the evening. She gave her name to the bored-looking security guard at the front door, and he waved her inside, obviously expecting her.
The castle was quiet and very still without the constant stream of tourists. The display pieces looked forlorn in the cabinets, out of place in this artificially bright space lit with fluorescent bulbs. Sarah’s footsteps echoed off the stone floor as she walked, and she could almost feel the building watching her. It was as though the stones themselves hummed with the same anticipation that had been vibrating in her bones all day.
Her ring was warm against her finger, warmer than her own body temperature but not unpleasantly hot. The jittery feeling seemed to emanate from it, trailing up her arm like pins and needles. She shook her arm out, but the feeling remained.
Sarah spotted Iva’s gray skirt-suit clad figure immediately. She turned and smiled at Sarah, apparently in a much more welcoming mood than the last time Sarah had seen her. It was incredible really, what namedropping a high-ranking academic could do. It was a shame she'd had to tell a little white lie to be able to have this opportunity, but something in her gut told her it would be worth it in order to see these pieces.
Iva had already gotten her coffee, and Sarah sipped at it slowly, not wishing to appear rude, but not wanting the extra caffeine to add to the jittery feeling in her stomach. When she had finished more than half of the cup, she replaced it on the table.
“Ready?” Iva asked.
“Definitely,” Sarah said.
“Were there other items you wished to see?”
Sarah paused, glancing around the display cabinets and shrugged. “Perhaps after I view these particular two pieces.”
It seemed a shame to pass up the chance to get up close to other historical items, but she had been waiting for this opportunity all day, and she couldn't bear another minute’s wait to see the ring.
Iva took her across to the display cabinet and slid it open. “I can't actually take the portrait out, obviously. Also, please don’t touch the painting itself.”
Sarah nodded. it was a fair request as she knew the oils in her fingers could potentially damage the painting. She stroked her hand along the gilded frame housing the portrait. That was safe enough and wouldn't harm the artifact in any way. She leaned in closer, captivated once again by the eyes that seemed to look out of the painting and rig
ht into her soul
“We believe the portrait was a wedding gift,” Iva said.
“Yes.” Sarah rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I read that in the file. I believe it was common among European royalty to commission a portrait for betrothals?”
“It was.”
“Are there any pictures of Princess Katherine?”
Iva shook her head. “Sadly, extremely few artifacts from the dynasty survived. A portrait of Princess Katherine as a young child was recovered as part of her original kingdom where her father ruled. There’s no known adult portrait.”
“And where is the portrait of her as a child?” Sarah asked.
“It was sold into a private collection, and we lost track of it,” Iva said wistfully. “We’re waiting to see if it makes its way to an auction house any point in the future.”
Sarah knew that it was potentially unlikely the portrait would end up being located. She looked again at the Prince and speculated on what it would have been like to be a princess betrothed to Prince Maximillian
“You wanted to view the ring?” Iva said.
“Yes please,” Sarah said, her eyes still locked on the portrait.
Iva took the ring out of the cabinet, handing it to Sarah carefully. She took it between her thumb and forefinger, and a jolt of electricity almost had her dropping the ring on the floor.
The feeling passed, and she opened her eyes, relieved that she hadn’t dropped the ring. An image of Iva crawling around the floor in her pristine skirt suit almost gave Sarah the giggles, but she recovered her composure. She felt almost light-headed.
Still grasping the ring between her thumb and forefinger, she inspected it closely. Even the size and the cut of the rubies matched her own. Without thinking, she slid the band onto her finger until the two rings nestled side by side. A magnetic force drew them together, and as the royal ring touched the edges of her own, dizziness engulfed her. The last thing she saw was the stone floor coming towards her fast.
