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SHADOWHUNTERS (1.01) | THE MORTAL CUP

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Adorable!!!

Heartless

kaz brekker x reader - heartless

summary/request: “Do you think you could do a Kaz Brekker x reader where they both like each other but are afraid to say anything and Kaz is kinda cold to the reader.  But one day she meets this new guy and starts liking him.  And Kaz admits he loves her before it’s too late?  If not I understand 💕”

warnings: nothing really, kaz being kaz, reader x oc!olivar nabrevsky

word count: 2.8k

     Kaz didn’t know it then, but he shot himself in the foot the moment he hired Olivar Nabrevsky.  At first, it seemed like a good, solid business decision.  The Dregs were short a few men and Olivar easily filled some of the gaps.  Now, Kaz wished he could go back in time and kick that man out of his office when he came crawling in, begging on his knees for a job.

     “Just talk to her.” Jesper stated, taking a sip from his drink.

     “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Jesper.” Kaz snapped, sending a glare at the boy seated next to him.

     The two were seated together in the Crow Club.  Empty glasses covered their table, the two going through the drinks quite quickly.

Keep reading

the fjerdan & the kerch

kaz brekker x reader - the fjerdan & the kerch

summary: kaz and matthias butt heads over someone they both care for

warnings: roughly follows parts of the ice court plot, matthias x childhood best friend!reader, fjerdan!reader

word count: 2.5k

“Lucky for me, I’ve got another Fjerdan to confirm your information.”

As Y/N climbed the stairs to the deck, her palm sliding along the wooden railing, she could hear Kaz’s gritty voice booming from above. She’d joined the job at the last moment after a last ditch effort of begging Kaz to allow her to join. Of course he was hesitant bringing along someone so fresh, new and untested, but relying upon the intelligence of a Fjerdan fugitive was not something Dirtyhands wanted to do. And so here Y/N was, on a bobbing ship bound for the country she left so long ago.

“Don’t you trust me demjin?” The question was a snarl, one of an animal bound and caged, silently fearful of there being no escape in sight.

As Y/N stepped onto the main deck, light pouring over her form, she felt as though she were basking in the feeling of home. That rough accent traveling on the high sea winds was a jolting reminder of home, of the family she once had. Of the small village she’d once lived in, just a few miles from the coast, wedged between frozen rivers and thick pine forests. She could nearly smell the pine sap in the air, the chilling breeze seeping into her bones.

And as she opened her eyes, she swore she was hallucinating for a moment. Squinting at the blond burly man, she allowed her gaze to roam over his face. Those features were foreign yet so familiar. On the outside was a war hardened soldier, fighting for a country he blindly pledged loyalty too. Fighting too young. But underneath, Y/N could still peer at the little boy she had grown up beside. The lopsided grin on the squarely set jaw, now clenched so tightly he looked like he might snap his own teeth off. Ignoring the shaven head, she could still remember the wavy blond locks he’d had, that seemed to shine like gold during the summer months.

It was Matthias and somehow at the same time, not him at all.

Y/N stood frozen, simply staring at her childhood friend who stared back with a sense of disbelief. All she wanted to do was run to his side, fall to her knees, and hug him until her arms gave out. But she couldn’t. They weren’t little naive children anymore, running through a field of snow as reindeer migrated through the village. Their grubby hands no longer sought out freshly baked cookies on the countertops. She no longer braided her hair like her mother had done, no longer placed a ruby red ribbon in the braid like the one Matthias had given her.

Deep inside, Y/N knew they both changed that night the Grisha had struck their village. An eye for an eye seemed to be the one thing shared between drüskelle and drüsje. When her father had been struck down, heart stopped in his own chest, her mother had fled with Y/N’s hands in hers. Running far far away from that quaint village. Away from their cozy patchwork quilts, made of whatever pieces of spare fabric could be found at the time of their making. Away from the tiny cabin that had been their home, that had provided shelter during blizzards, warmth during the winters. Away from her father lying dead on the ground, eyes blankly staring up at the sky. Away from Matthias, wherever he was.

Staring into his eyes now, she knew something horrible had happened. The blues within his eyes had once reminded her of the spring melt, when clear blue water came streaming down from the snow-capped mountains. It was the sign of new life, of rebirth in Fjerda. Those soft blues were like the little tiny wildflowers that would sprout over the tundra, only to be grazed by horses or livestock. But now, there was no hint of softness in those blue irises. They were hard. Solid like ice that could run for miles underfoot. No matter how long you chiseled away, it was ice. Endless ice. That pale, nearly white, blue - unrelenting to any outside force.

“Y/N,” Matthias breathed out, barely audible over the howling winds.

But Kaz heard that single word, his hawk-like eyes flashing between the two Fjerdans. His jaw was set tight, muscles twitching every few seconds. “You two know each other?”

Nodding, Y/N took another step forward until she was standing by Kaz’s side, whose long coat flapped wildly in the wind like a large black sail, pushing them towards the icey country.

Matthias’s eyes stirred with something Y/N couldn’t quite place her finger on. Was it concern, a longing for their childhood, happiness over their reunion? And when she glanced at Kaz, she couldn’t describe his expression either. His dark eyes, like billowing storm clouds, seemed to swirl with anger, resentment… jealousy even.

“We grew up together in Fjerda,” Y/N clarified, reminiscing with nearly a smile upon her face. “His house was just a few down from mine.”

“How do you know this demjin?” Matthias’s gaze bore into hers as he questioned her in Fjerdan, voice heavily laced with concern.

Heart thudding in her chest, Y/N fumbled over her own words. It felt wholly impossible to describe whatever her relationship was with the Bastard of the Barrel. It wasn’t friendship yet it also wasn’t more… just that odd inbetween. Mutual appreciation?

In Fjerdan, she mumbled, “I met him in Ketterdam. He’s taught me the ropes.”

Scrunching up his nose and crossing his arms, Kaz harshly snapped, “I am right here, you know.”

But the two Fjerdans pointedly ignored him, now in the midst of a silent argument, staring at each other with fiery eyes as they did as children.

“He is not good for you.”

Y/N scoffed as her hands fell into place on her hips. “And you think you know what’s good for me? Years after we went our different paths.”

“He is an evil man,” Matthias snarled. “I can see it in those soulless eyes.”

“Don’t you even start!”

“I was imprisoned, Y/N! All because his Grisha pet claimed me a slaver.”

The last word of Matthias’s proclamation was spoken in clear Ravkan, as perfect a pronunciation as the Fjerdan man could muster. It was a clear message to Kaz as to the topic the two were discussing in their native language. Matthias’s eyes gazed at hers, eyebrows slightly furrowed as though he were begging. Begging for her to see his side, to understand why he was so concerned.

But Y/N simply shook her head, glancing at Kaz and speaking in Ravkan, “There must have been a misunderstanding.”

Matthias’s face grew red, the shade of beets her mother had harvested in the summer months. Standing up, he furiously reached towards Y/N fumbling to grab ahold of her wrist. “These Ravkan and Kerch people are horrible.”

“That is quite enough from you, Helvar,” Kaz snapped once more and with a swing of his cane, brought it roughly down upon the Fjerdan man’s shoulder.

The first day had been rough, taut tension rippling through the air between the Fjerdan and the Kerch as Y/N now liked to call them. The two men that marked the two different lives she had lived. Matthias with the naive girl who not once even wondered of a life outside her little Fjerdan village. The girl who made sticks into swords and rocks into cannon balls. And they’d played on those snowy fields, each commanding their own invisible army and conducting their own duels. Of course, like the little gentleman he was, a quiet and reserved boy, far too timid for the games the other boys played, Matthias had always let her win.

And now there was the current version of her, the one whose life was marked by Kaz. That naive little girl had no clue what to do when arriving upon the docks at Ketterdam, her mother gravely ill from the tedious journey. And when she was left all alone, stranded and lonely, not a person to turn to for comfort on those grimy streets, was when Kaz appeared. Practically a knight in shining armor, someone to guide her through the city that rode that fine line between life and death.

In a way, he’d saved her. Silently directed her along the easier path, placing a few kruge in her pocket when she needed it. Whatever she needed, he provided some way, somehow. That was when her loyalty turned away from Fjerda and it’s gleaming snowy fields, her mind turned away from Matthias. And after that, it was Kaz… just Kaz.

Now as the ship cut through the harsh waters, ever heading more north, she could hardly stand the two men glaring daggers at each other. Part of Y/N thought, if given the chance, they’d willingly throttle each other to death. It would simply be a matter of who could throw the other overboard first. And as mildly entertaining as it sounded, that was one thing she did not want to witness.

By her side, Kaz fidgeted with a large padlock, tossing the rusted object between his hands as he worked those fingers, picking and relocking it. He liked to think he was a figure of confidence going into a job, the commander standing proud at the front of an army, head held high and shoulders pinned back. But really, he was a bit of an anxious mess. Everyone around just pointedly avoided the topic. Kaz always had his thing going. Something to work with his hands, something to exercise his brain.

“Can you show me?” Y/N found herself asking. For the longest time she admired the ways he could work a lock as though it were an extension of himself. How with just a few gentle clicks, like a puppet master pulling strings, anything would open to do Kaz’s bidding.

Kaz nodded, one corner of his lips turning up into what could resemble a smug smile. Outstretching her hand, she wrapped her fingers around the padlock he’d dropped into her palm. The metal was smooth under her touch, polished but tarnished by the rough patches of rust. It was like a little secret held within her hand.

Matthias, whose head was turned towards the churning waves, staring off into the distance for any sign of the icey coastline, chirped sarcastically, “In Fjerda, breaking into locked places is a crime. Is it not that way in Kerch?”

Y/N sent a scathing glare in his direction, just like how she used to when they were children. A smug grin sprouted upon Matthias’s lips, the same boyish look he had as a child. Even back then, they butted heads - the type of friendship anomaly where both were so different, yet so frustratingly alike. A sudden urge rose inside Y/N to poke her tongue out at the boy, but she didn’t. Instead, she rolled the padlock in her hands, cradling it like a precious jewel.

“Picking locks is an art,” Kaz began, folding both gloved hands in his lap as he learnt forward. “It takes time and practice, but it’s all in the hands. Locks are no different from people. With just a nice, light touch, a flick of the fingers, you can bend the object to your will.”

Gazing up into Kaz’s eyes, she thought he was more like the locks than anything else. Vehemently guarded and yet, the softness was still there. Way down beneath the tough exterior, vulnerable secrets held closely to the heart. If only she could scratch away at that, expose the truth beneath so she could know. Know Kaz for who he truly was, not this scary legend around him. But rather the true Kaz, the part of him that reigned over the motivations, the values, the reasons why he did what he did.

That was all she wanted in the world. To get to know Kaz. To learn the secrets of his trade, model herself in his image. To be talented enough to pick locks, twirl guns, and throw knives. To be someone worthy of being a Crow.

Each of the members of their group took turns peering through those glasses to examine the prisoner wagon rattling along the road on its way to the palace gates.

“This is genius,” Jesper breathed out, his eyes wide as he stared through the glasses.

All of them were jittery, adrenaline running through their veins that was nearly as cold as the Fjerdan ice. It chilled them to their core, but also stirred something inside. A deep wanting, a desire to make this whole job a success. To walk out of Fjerda in one piece, return to Ketterdam where their hands would be full of kruge.

“This is idiotic,” Matthias grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. His nose wrinkled up in disgust at the rather unappealing food placed in front of him, but Y/N would be willing to bet her life, some of that disgust was also meant for Kaz.

“How so?” Inej inquired as her thin frame practically leaned over the railing, staring at the prisoner wagon that slowed to a roll by the guard’s station.

“It would be,” the Fjerdan man admitted. “If Kaz knew everything about the Ice Court.”

An icey silence fell over the group as Matthias looked happily smug, a devilish grin upon his lips as he stared at the high walls of the Ice Court. The Crows all glanced at one another, fear sparking in their eyes at the thought of the Fjerdan destroying their heist.

Clenching her fists, Y/N sat up higher in her seat as she stared down her childhood friend. “Matthias if you don’t tell us, I swear to Djel I’ll-”

“He’s bluffing,” Kaz casually announced, wholly unbothered by Matthias’s little drama show.

“What?”

“Your dear Matthias wouldn’t risk withholding information to put you in danger. And he’s certainly not clever enough to think of blackmail.”

“Demjin,” he muttered under his breath, not daring to glance at Kaz’s face.

“Can you two just stop it?”

Both men practically jumped in their seats like nervous rabbits, staring at Y/N, and everyone else curiously watched the confrontation.

“I can’t go on with the two of you at each other’s throats,” Y/N begged, glancing between both of them. Matthias shifted uneasily in his seat, glancing back yet again at the large stone walls lying just down the road.

“A truce, please? You don’t have to like each other, or even think of one another as friends. But please just stop snapping.”

Tense silence hovered in the air as Kaz and Matthias both eyed one another, their jaws tense and heads held highly with confidence as if both were Kings on a chessboard. But ultimately both nodded, giving in to Y/N’s plea for the same reason - to please her. Neither wanted to see her upset, eyes wide and voice wavering as it was now. They both treasured the times when she smiled so widely that her eyes sparkled. Both aimed to see her happy, as carefree as a butterfly crafted of the most intricate hues and patterns fluttering in the wind.

Perhaps the Fjerdan and the Kerch weren’t so different after all.

Kaz Taglist

@oliviasslut @ameliathackray @purplewcrld @subjecta13-thefangirl @aysegust @amberash05 @beatitlikeabongodrum @mindofasupernova @kaitlyn2907 @renataligorio @xcharlottemikaelsonx @ladydaemon @just-a-new-start @nlnlpanini @kaqua @chaoticneutral3 @thedelusionreaderbitch @spawn0fsatan @vintagebitc @itsnotquimey @datrie @aliiiyyaaah @morganayenneferburnham @magravenwrites @kykymyeon @fandomstuffff @whatiswrongwithpeople @bilesxbilinskixlahey @imagines-and-preferences1216 @dreamer-writer-fangirl @alice-the-nerd @rika90 @for-bebbanburg @ancientbeing10 @everwhovian @theoroseo @jaystaysinside @moony-is-bae @ms-awkward @glowstick-lesbian @xetherealbeautyx @lillypotter00 @black-kitten-imagines @shortimaginewriter @ohfuk @aleksanderwh0r3 @yummyfanta @gallysonegoodlung @bicyhot1 @notplutos

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The Accidental Princess (Part 12)

Prince Kit x Reader

Synopsis: A contract has been found after twenty years, bearing your name and the Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Synopsis: You awake and see how everything has changed since your vanishing

Word Count: 13.6k words

Warning: angst, violence, mentions of death and blood and murder, period-typical misogyny, long and maybe a bit of a boring chapter?

A/N: Hello my loves. I'm so sorry it's been so long. I promised you I wouldn't abandon this fic and guess what, TAP 13 is also finished! I just need to write the Epilogue and we're all gucci ;) I love it when you leave me little comments of your thoughts so please, don't be shy to leave some! I love it when you reblog this fic too! As usual, not beta'd, all mistakes are mine. Enjoy Part 12! (13 is coming a week or so after this!)

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Epilogue

The storm had taken a turn for the worst.

The once-calm sea had become violent in a matter of seconds and it had sent the crew of the ship into a frenzy, with incoherent orders barked from one sailor to another. Some had hoisted the sail, some had turned the mast and turned it whichever way the wind blew, and some had taken the supplies back to the deck below. Your father had grabbed hold of the helm along with the captain, doing their best to steer the massive oceanic vessel with the storm. You learned that fighting with the storm was futile; to go against it was instant death. You knew of no one who had gone against it and had survived.

Your grand blue skirts brushed against the barrels, halting you in your steps. You had always changed into your shirt and breeches whenever you were in your travels but now, you had failed to do so because your mind had been preoccupied with his smile and laughter and the way he answered the archbishop—

You could not change into different clothes now, especially so when the sailors were struggling with the strong winds and would not care less for how you appeared.

You spied one crewman floundering with his end of the rope, holding on to it for dear life, as the wind blew on the sail. No one seemed to have noticed him and so you rushed to his aid, grabbing hold of the hemp rope with both of your hands and gave the mightiest tug you had ever given.

“Y/N!” You heard your father cry out to you.

You lifted your eyes to the stern where your father stood with the captain, unable to shield your eyes from the rain as both of your hands were holding on to the line. He was pointing towards the cabin, shouting orders that were drowned by the crashing waves.

You knew what he meant, that he wanted you to return to the safety of the cabin, but you could not find it in you to leave the crew to brave the storms themselves. You were not some helpless lady, prone to fainting at the sight of something unseemly, and you did not wish to be alone if—or when—the ship turned into a watery grave for you and the rest of its passengers. No, you did not want that. You shook your head wildly at your father, hoping he saw it through the thick curtain of the rain and in the bleakness of the sky, and heaved once more as you pulled on the rope.

“Miss!” said the sailor beside you. “You must return to the cabins!”

“No!” you told him. You grunted with effort as you pulled on the line, hoping all that you were doing had an effect, even if it were small as compared to theirs. “I will not leave you!”

“Miss Y/N, the storm will only blow you away—”

You planted your heels against a barrel, the wind quite literally sweeping you off your feet. You hoped he did not see the coincidence of his words. “I am quite all right!”

Arms grabbed at your waist. Your sudden abduction made you drop the rope and you squirmed to break free. The arms were tight against you, knocking the air from your lungs and you could not voice your protestations despite the many of them that came to mind. It hauled you with him, moving you farther away from the once-struggling sailor, bringing you to the safety and dryness of the captain’s cabin.

“Please, Miss,” pled the sailor before he locked you within.

You tried pulling the door open but to no avail. The crewman had indeed locked you in with no intentions of setting you free whilst the storm was still raging. You would not stand for that. Your fists pounded at the door and you pled with whomever was outside to release you so you would help. Your request fell on deaf ears.

The ship gave a mighty lurch along with the wave and it sent you staggering backwards, landing heavily against the corner of the captain’s dresser. Pain erupted on your side and you cried out at the surprise of it. And before you could recover, the ship crested once more. This time, it rose much higher than before.

You were flung backwards, the force of the sea too strong for you to counter. It sent you flying back against the south wall, along with the many items that were scattered on the captain’s desk. A lit lamp flew by your ear and shattered upon impact, plunging the cabin into darkness. Maps and charts were tossed to your person. A large tome nearly hit you on the head, and an inkpot missed your hip by an inch. And when you thought it over, you heard the peculiar creaking.

It was a different type of creaking, one that made the hairs on your arm stand in fright, one that was unlike the usual sound of the squeaking doors. You had not one idea where it could possibly come from and you paid it no heed until the next shifting of the sea vessel. You had not moved from your position in the south wall—a mistake because the unusual sound had been the loosening of the bolts that held down the captain’s mahogany desk to the floor. With the ship’s near vertical ascent, the heavy woodwork came barreling towards you and in a matter of seconds, had you pinned against the wall, momentarily seizing you of your breath upon impact.

You gasped at the force; pain nearly blinding. The mahogany office trapped the lower half of your body along with your left arm, rendering you immobile, save for your other arm that you used to thump against the desk.

“Help! Help me!” You shouted as loud as you could with the piece of furniture pressing down on you. Your palm beat the desk until it hurt for you to do so, and still, like before, no one had come through the door to your aid.

“Help! Help, please!” You cried out. You labored your every breath, the motion of the ship not helping you because every movement only pressed the large desk closer to you.

Another wave hit the ship. The force of it moved the desk, giving you and it a wide berth, enough for you to move away. Whilst successful, you had not accounted for the other furniture in your haste to get away. As you moved closer to the door, you tripped on the raised carpet edge and the same dresser that you had fallen on before, now fell on you. Or rather, fell on your leg.

You gave a howl of pain, at the heft of the solid mahogany dresser and its attempt to squash your ankle flat. You knew the joint had broken upon impact and as you tried to pull away, you somehow felt your foot detaching from the rest of your leg. You felt sick to your stomach at the mere idea of it.

You grappled blindly before you, grasping for anything you could use to haul yourself from under the heavy woodwork. Your nails scraped against the wooden floor until your hand found purchase on a strewn piece of rope. You held onto it tightly and with all the strength you had left, pulled yourself from under the furniture.

“Help!” You cried as you dragged yourself. “Please, anyone! Help me!”

From your position on the floor, you felt even the minutest of all actions about the ship. There were the hurried footfalls of the crew. Their shouts of orders reverberated through the floor. You felt the crashing of the waves against the side of the ship and how it rattled both the bones of the vessels and yours. Even the swooping and falling of the boat was intensified from your place and each motion made you sick to your stomach.

You willed your churning stomach to calm down lest you start retching. With all the strength in you, you pulled on the rope, working with the actions of the waves and the boat, only moving when the cabinet lifted with the ship. Your hands ached at the hard strands of the hemp rope but you paid it no mind; you wanted to be free. You needed to be free.

Outside, the winds bellowed. The cabin lit from the lightning and shook with the thunder.

You pulled yourself free from your trappings when the dresser lifted with the surging of ship. You swung your injured leg away from any other furniture in danger of falling over and tucked it under your dress, hoping against hope it was still useful. You clung on to the rope and used it to pull yourself closer to the door. You banged and pounced, crying for help, and no one still came for you.

There was a loud, inhumane moaning, one that made you pause in your desperate attempt to call the sailors’ attention. You felt the ceasing of the motion on the ship. No more rushing steps. No loud calls of order. No sound of the storm, even. It was as if everything stopped. Everyone stopped.

A breath caught on your throat at the thought of your father. You pressed your ear against the wooden door, listening intently for whatever sound that could tell you of the state of him but there was nothing. The gentle sloshing of the water against the sides of the ship were the only sounds you could make out.

You slammed your body against the door, putting all of your weight to it to push it open. It took you three tries—and with each try, you grew weaker—before it burst open. You fell on the floor as it broke free, the effort knocking the breath from you.

You sputtered and coughed but the gasp that came from you was not because of the impact. It was because all the men of the ship had vanished, save for the figures before you. Two of them laid on the floor, bathed in red liquid, and the other stood with its back to you. The other was a that of a woman, her body turned to the standing man, waiting. For what, you were fearful to find out.

“Father?” you called to one of the figures, hoping it was the one standing although the silhouette did not look like him.

You scrambled to the nearest body, dragging your own behind you. You harshly grabbed at the head and turned it to you, breath halting at the sight of Kit.

Kit. The prince. Your former husband.

His ocean eyes were unseeing. There was a deep gash that ran across his neck and it oozed blood like the brilliant scarlet ribbon you often saw the Princess of Zaragoza sport in her hair.

You did not know he was aboard the ship. You did not know that he had followed you especially after—

“Kit?” You pulled yourself closer to him, cradling his head on your lap, not minding that your skirt was being stained of his lifeblood. You slapped at his cheek, watching as your tears fell on his lifeless face.

“Kit! No! Please, do not be dead!” You begged of him, shaking him, slapping, pinching, doing whatever you could to rouse him. “Please, my love. Please!”

His azure eyes—eyes that once beheld you like you were the most precious thing in all the land—remained empty.

You cried as you curled against him, embracing him, refusing to believe he was gone. “Oh, Kit. I love you. Forgive me. I did not know. I did not know…”

The harsh clattering of shoes sounded stark against the absolute silence. You did not relinquish your hold on him as you looked up at the source of the only sound.

“Ambitious girl,” it snarled.

You swallowed at the dread that kissed your back. You knew that awful voice and yet, you refused to acknowledge it.

“You thought you could save him from me but you’re mistaken,” the Grand Duke snapped.

He grabbed a hold of your face, turning you to him harshly, trapping your chin in one of his hands. His other was turned into a fist and was raised in attack.

“You’re next.” And his fist came down.

.

Your eyes flew open.

Kit. You had to find Kit. You had to see him—

You tried moving but there was a weight that stopped you. It was not as heavy or as solid as the furniture had been but it was rather plush, almost downy, but still quite hefty against your tender body. You attempted to lift your injured leg in hopes of knowing if it still had any use to you, but it felt as though it were caged in something. You could not twist it at all. It only laid motionless and the thought of paralysis scared you. You were immobile. They could easily get to you if you were immobile.

Was this some sick, cruel punishment conjured by the Grand Duke? Had he hit you and you had died upon his fist’s impact to your head? Was this the afterlife? What of Kit? Of everyone aboard the ship?

Your heart beat terribly in your chest, quick short gallops that made you fear it would burst from your ribs. You breathed shallowly and loudly, like gasps that racked your whole body. You felt your palms slick with sweat. It was too bright. It was too cool and warm at the same time. It was—It was—

You protested against your bindings, squirming to make space for you to move and be free but it was impossible. Your own body limited your movements because every squirm, every effort, made it hurt with an ache you had not experienced before. Your head had started to swim with the motion you were doing. You wanted to stay strong but your own body was weak and tender.

This had to be a part of the Grand Duke’s designs. He had failed in killing you when he had thrown you in that small hole and now, he had returned for you, returned to make good of his threats. He had bound you in these ties that were impossible to escape from.

“H-help!” You groaned weakly. Your voice scratched at your throat; the effort making you cough out the dryness. “Help! Help me!”

You thrashed and called out for help at the same time; not making any progress on either. The ties that bound you were tight, as was the vise that held your leg. You tried crying louder for help, hoping someone not employed by the awful nobleman would come to your rescue.

But when the doors flew open, all hope dissipated from your chest.

Princess Chelina entered through the doors, frantically looking about before her eyes landed on you.

You shook your head at the sight of her nearing you. She was his kin. She was an accomplice. She had to be. There was no reason for her to come barging to your room other than to inflict some kind of torture until you gave up living.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” she asked as she approached you. A forbidding feeling sat at the pit of your stomach.

“No. No, please. Not you,” you pled. You turned from her and yelled out. “Help! Please!”

“I am here to help!” She exclaimed over the loudness of your voice. “Tell me what is wrong—Guards! Get the physician!”

Efforts proving successful, you scurried from her, finally able to move your sore body and you landed on a heap on the floor beside your bed. The slamming of your injured foot against the floor, coupled with your already-bruised body and aching head, made you howl out in pain.

“Guards!”

You knew you had to get away from her lest she tied you back to whatever torture device her uncle had chosen for you. Your efforts were piteous; you tried dragging your body to a corner, hoping to become small enough for her to ignore but instead, you moved at a snail’s pace. You could not even pull your body because it ached by just being there.

“Y/N, let me help—”

You looked at her, eyes wide in fear. “Please,” you rasped and begged of her, tears pooling in your eyes. “Please, stay away from me.”

The look she gave you was one of dawning horror. She moved closer to you—you flinched away and she stopped herself from even nearing you after that.

“I would never hurt you,” she said. She crouched before you and reached out a hand to you like you were some spooked animal. “I am not my uncle—”

Your body shook at the mention of the man, at the memories of what he had done to you. A tear rolled down your cheek as you shook your head when you refused her attempts of helping you.

“Please. Please.” You did not know what you pled for but you felt in you that you had to.

“You must get back to your bed,” she said instead. “You are injured. You need to heal.”

“He wanted to kill me,” was all you said.

“I know,” she whispered achingly. “I’m sorry.”

“He killed the queen,” you told her.

She did not react in the way you expected. She only nodded sadly and still held her hand out to you. “I know. Please, Y/N, you must return to your bed.”

You disregarded what she had said after she told you she was aware of the man’s actions. She knew? She knew her uncle had committed regicide? Queen Amalie had passed the year before and yet her uncle has not been apprehended since?

“You knew?” you asked her, fear leaving you momentarily. Taking its place was disbelief. “You knew he killed the Queen?”

She nodded. “Yes. I was told of his sins.” She bent closer to you, face imploring. “Please. Let me help you back to your bed.”

You shook your head as you moved away. “No. Stay away. Please, I beg of you.”

A familiar face appeared behind the princess. Abigail arrived, looking harried as though she had been running, and rushed to your aid. You clung to her and let her lift you from the ground, shaking your head to ward off the nearing princess.

“Abigail, please, please, don’t let her near me!” You exclaimed, almost crazed with fear at the thought of suffering again.

“Miss?” your maid asked, sounding confused at your request.

“Her uncle! The Grand Duke! He—He—he killed the queen!” You looked at your friend, grasping at her small body as yours shook with desperation to be heard, to be understood. “Abigail, I must find Kit. I have to make sure he is safe—”

Your maid nodded at you. “He is, Miss. The prince is safe. You must not worry.”

“What?” you asked weakly. “Kit is safe? Where is he? I must see him—”

“You cannot, Miss. He is attending the Grand Duke’s trial. He will not return until nearly nightfall,” cooed Abigail. She had helped you back to your bed, gently brushing the hair from your forehead. “I will inform him you have awaken once he arrives but for now, you must rest.”

Your eyes flitted to the Zaragozan princess who stood rooted before your bed. It had only occurred to you that you were not in the ship anymore, that you had been returned to the palace, in the same room the king had given you upon your first arrival.

But the ship? Was it a dream? you thought to yourself confusedly. It was too vivid to be anything but, too lifelike especially when the dresser had fallen on you. But only, it did not fall on you and instead, you have fallen from a great height and your body had ached upon the impact.

It slowly came back to you, of the riotous storm and the rising waters, the jagged stones that pricked and stabbed at you, of the darkness that you feared would have made you blind. You had been feverish too and had hallucinated to comfort yourself.

But you could not recall anything of when you were rescued, no face nor voice at all to tell you who it had been that had saved you. You remembered singing the lullaby your mother had sung for you when you were a child. The hallucinations of her felt real, like she had indeed come from beyond the grave to comfort you. She had kept you company and you knew you would have gone with her if she had urged you to, if you had not been found by whoever recovered you from that dark space.

If your being on the ship was a dream, then none of that had happened. Kit did not—What Abigail said of Kit’s being in the trial must be true. He is safe. He is safe, you assured yourself, trusting Abigail’s words.

“The physician will see you now, Miss. I will leave you with the Princess—” Abigail turned to go but you grabbed at her hands.

You shook your head a little too wildly than normal, tightening your grip on your maid’s hand. “Do not leave me, please.”

“Princess Chelina will—”

“No.” You pulled Abigail closer to you, clinging to her like you were a small child. “I do not want to be left alone with her.”

The look she shot the princess was stricken. “Your Royal Highness—”

“It is all right, Abigail.” came the Princess’s reply. It sounded defeated and mournful; nothing at all how you remembered her to be. “I shall be in my chambers if there is need for me.”

Abigail bobbed a curtsy and turned to you. She brushed the hair off your face, nodding comfortingly. “I will remain, Miss, but the physician must have a look at you.”

The royal physician came and examined you; he deemed you safe from your bout of fever but he remarked that the bruises and aches you felt would remain for some time. The broken bones were the result of your fall and while the physician had done all that he could, the rest was left for nature to heal you. There was only a dull ache when he pressed and prodded at the once-tender parts of your body, a sign that he deemed you were near recovery. Your falls while attempting to leave the hole resulted in scars around your body; most were small scratches but the deeper ones had been healed and had scabbed over.

Your foot, however, was another matter entirely. He postulated that you had fallen on top of it and the weight of your body broke your ankle. He had placed your foot in a splint to prevent you from unnecessarily moving it and would remain so for months or until the bones and muscles had properly healed. The swelling had gone down—he told you it looked far more grotesque when you were rescued—but it still, it had not gone back to normal.

And your hysterics—you hated the term he used but you knew those were that—were the result of the mental trauma. Do not think of the man or his deeds, Miss, the physician said but you knew it was far easier to be told of that than to do it. You could not help that your nightmare of the Grand Duke having slayed Kit on your ship was fresh on your mind and had haunted you ever since you woke. You also could not tell him that the sight of Princess Chelina had triggered the great anxiety from you or else you risked sounding rude towards the Zaragozan princess.

“Your mental fortitude is strong, Miss,” the physician said as he mixed a vial of medication to your cup of tea. “I have had patients go mad when they were forced to face those who tortured them. I do not think you are in any danger of that.”

You could only look at the man, refusing to respond because you were at the brink of insanity with every passing moment you could not see Kit.

“But for now, you must rest once more. The ordeal of waking up and with your anxiety has taxed your mind and body.” He passed the teacup to you and you downed the contents like a parched castaway, drinking the bitter concoction to the dregs. You had not enough time to comment on the extreme tartness of it because sleep overtook you.

When you came to, the curtains were drawn to reveal the dark night sky. The rains had ceased and the full moon illuminated the grayness of the clouds as they floated by. Your room was kept dim, the only light coming from the crackling fireplace. Two shadowed figures spoke in hushed tones before it, heads bent as if in deep conversation.

You craned your head sideways to look for your maid, hoping she was still present in your chambers but from your position on the bed, you could not find her. You rose with the use of your elbows, the ache resonating all over, pain nearly forcing you back down the bed but you carried on, and you grunted as you felt your muscles lock. Your actions rustled the thick covers that were laid on top of you. The conversation between the two figures stopped and both heads simultaneously turned to you.

“Y/N!”

It was Louis who approached your bed first, a wide and relieved smile about his face. You sank back and watched as he sat on the edge before taking your hands in his.

“Imagine our relief to hear you have awoken. I was beginning to doubt your maid’s word because when we arrived, you were still asleep like how you had been the week past.” He gave your hands a gentle squeeze.

Your attention moved from the Duke of Granville to that of the other silhouette, who now rose from the seat and marched its way to you. The figure stopped at the foot of your bed, watching you with its sapphire-like eyes. Kit.

Kit was here.

Kit was alive.

You only beheld the man you loved, wanting nothing more than to run in his arms but knew it was impossible because of your broken body. He looked as how you remembered him from your waking moments and from the nightmare—eyes as blue as the calmest seas and the clearest skies. Shoulders broad and strong but now they dropped as if from exhaustion. Face handsome as ever but he appeared gaunt as though he had not had sleep for days. Kit remained at the foot of your bed, watching you with his tired but hopeful eyes.

“Must we call for the physician? Your foot has been rendered immobile by the good doctor. He said it was to ensure its proper healing. If it is hurting, we must tell the man at once.”

You turned to your dearest friend and looked at him blankly, had heard him but you did not comprehend his words because your thoughts were preoccupied with Kit.

“Why aren’t you speaking? Have you gone mute? Good god! Will a high fever make one voiceless?” He frowned at you now, frantically searching your face, still holding your hands in his.

Despite the heaviness you were feeling, a chuckle bubbled from you at the duke’s panicked ranting. It was a harsh sound but a sound of happiness, nonetheless. You squeezed his hand, assuring him that you were well. “How will I talk if you did not give me leave to speak, Louis?”

He laughed at that, enveloping you in an embrace. He was gentle against your sore body, cradling you in his arms like you were a newborn babe. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling his tense shoulders relax when you reciprocated the action. Your heart sang out for the duke. You could only imagine the horror they went through to find you and to wait for you to wake once they had.

When he drew back, he smiled at you with the same jesting smile you came to love.

“Always with that smart mouth of yours,” he told you. “You have to be careful with your investigation from now on, pet. I am not always present to save you,” he japed once more.

You rolled your eyes at him in a show of affection. “I thank you, oh my knight in shining armor.”

“I was not wearing an armor then when we rescued you. And my silk shirt was drenched and ruined when I plunged into the lake to search for you.” He sulked rather childishly and you chuckled at the absurd sight of the handsome, charming duke.

“I’ll be sure to ask the tailor to round up two fine silk shirts for Your Grace.” You said with false gravity. Oh, how you missed this!

“Very good.” He grinned. He sobered as he took your hands once more in his. “Pet, you must know I did not call for you to go in the library. It was not me.”

Your heart thudded against your chest, losing the lightness that came to you instantly. You gave a sad smile, disguising the shiver of fear for one of coldness. “I surmised as much,” you rasped and you cleared your throat. “But it hardly matters now.”

Louis squeezed your hands once again. “Chelina told me that you refused her presence.”

You drew your hands back and kept them under your covers, hiding from them the way they trembled at the princess’s name. “She—” You frowned and harrumphed, swallowing the hard lump that now resided on your throat.

“She is his kin,” you told the duke in a small, shaky voice. “She had no reason to be in my room or come to my assistance.”

He gave you a sad shake of his head, disagreeing with what you said. “She is also his victim. And she has kept watch of you while Kit and I attend the trial. It is her penance, she said, because she is his niece even though she is faultless in all that has happened.”

You had not thought of Chelina as the Grand Duke’s victim. It was jarring to know the nobleman’s manipulation knew no bounds—his machinations were not exclusive to Kit and his family. Even his own family he deceived, all because he could. Gooseflesh rose from your skin and you rubbed at them.

“And yes, he is in trial. He will not harm you any longer.” Your friend assured you.

You nodded absently, hoping his words to be true. Your dream felt ominous.

Louis looked back at his cousin, who still stood unmoving in his position, before his eyes returned to you.

“He was insufferable when you had vanished,” the duke said and you heard the jesting in his tone.

You gave a weak smile at Louis’s attempt to joke. Your eyes then flicked to Kit’s, who only watched you quietly.

“I shall take my leave. Kit has been hoping to see you awake since your rescue. I would not want to make him wait any longer.” He took your hand and placed a delicate kiss atop it. “Call for me if you wish for better company, pet.”

The jolliness of the duke was infectious and, even as you were still reeling from the mental torture the Grand Duke’s attempts of killing you had inflicted, you could not help the smile that graced your lips. He gave you a brotherly kiss on your forehead and whispered that he was glad to see you awake and nearly back to your pesky self, to which you replied that you only gleaned it from his behavior. With a laugh and a pat on his cousin’s shoulder, he left your chambers.

You watched Kit from your bed, at the way he did not move to near you. He only beheld you with warring expressions; from anger to pain, disbelief to assurance, from the way his eyes seemed steely with memories before it melted and made way for the familiar love you saw in them. The relief that emanated from him was near palpable and it bled through you, easing your mind and calming you.

The lifeless Kit only belonged in your nightmare. This was the truth. This Kit before you, he was real and alive and—

“Are you all right?” you asked when he still made no move to come to you.

“Are you?” he countered, voice quiet.

Despite you wanting to answer in the affirmative, a whimper escaped your lips. The emotions that assailed through you were too much to bear. You loved Kit, loved him more than you could ever love anyone, and to see him before you—in the flesh and not as some febrile hallucination or in your nightmares—brought out all the frustration and fear and pain in you.

Your tears spurred him into action; his arms were now around you as sobs racked your body. They were pitiful sounds, not unlike the same tears you cried at the announcement of your separation. You clung on to him, leeching off of him to appease yourself. He was the salve to your pain, the comfort to all your aches, and if he let you take what it was that he offered to heal you, you greedily accepted it.

He drew back from you and his thumbs swiped at the tears that tracked down your cheeks. His cerulean eyes looked at you with all of the love and worry in the world, a frown marring his handsome features and morphing his face into that of utmost concern.

“Are you in pain?” he asked of you, ache lacing his voice.

“I was so scared,” you choked out in between sobs. “I thought I would not return to you. I thought I had lost you—”

He shook his head with an intensity you had not seen from him before, as if he would not allow you to entertain such a thought. “Do not think of that, my love. I will always come find you wherever you are, never doubt it.”

In spite of all his assurances, more tears welled in your eyes. You let them come, basking once more in the comfort of your love’s arms. Kit only held you flush against his chest, murmuring assurances that you knew were for the both of you. You clung to him tightly, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, felt him tremble as he embraced you with such ferocity that it made you weep some more. Once you had spent all the tears, you pulled from him and almost shied away if he had not taken your chin softly by his fingers. He turned your face to him, his ocean-like gaze soft and loving.

“I love you,” he said. “Never think otherwise.”

You nodded, knowing you would not.

And like the capricious seas, his gentle eyes turned stormy. Gone was the fond expression and in its place was that of tortured pain. The emotion clouded his eyes, changing his entire face, and he turned from you to hide it.

“Forgive me for not coming for you sooner,” he said and you heard how he choked on his words as well. “We were gathering evidence as quick as we can but it was not fast enough. And the Grand Duke refused to tell me where you were. It had only been by his mistake that he revealed you would have drowned if we were too late. And… And while we were not too late when we found you… Louis and I…”

Your chest ached when he failed to continue, as if voicing them would bring him more pain. No matter how he tried, he did not follow through his words. He now looked at you with his troubled eyes, eyes that had seen horrors you would not be able to comprehend.

You placed your palm flush against his chest, felt the thundering beats of his heart so similar to your own. You longed to take the pain from him, to return the warmth he gave you as he calmed the fear that once laid in your chest. Kit suffered enough. You would not allow anything to hurt him anymore.

“You were calling for your mother,” he said in a voice so hushed, it was nearly drowned by the sound of the crackling of the fireplace. “I knew she was gone; I had seen the shrine your father built for her, but you were holding a conversation with her. You were answering questions only you could hear and I—”

A tear glistened as it slid down his cheek. He swallowed thickly and you saw the lump as it worked on his throat. “It reminded of my mother. She had been delirious on the day she died. So when you called out to your own mother, when you only looked past me when I finally had you in my arms… I thought I was too late. I thought I was bound to lose you too.”

“Oh, Kit.” Your own eyes burned with tears and you felt them fall down your cheek. It must have been difficult for him, to have seen you in that state and be reminded of how his own mother had died. But you did not pass unlike his mother. He needed assurance that he arrived just in time for you.

Your hand that was on his chest moved to cup his cheek and you wiped the tear with the pad of your thumb. “You found me. I am here.”

“But I was too late—”

You shook your head at him gently. “No. No. You were not. I did not drown. I did not perish.”

Taking his hand, you used it to cup your cheek, leaning into it as if to say you were not a mere illusion. That you were present because of him. You hoped you brought comfort to him like his presence had with you.

“All I could ever think of was you,” he told you. “Even when my father was recuperating from his own brush with death, all that worried me was finding you.”

“All I could think of was you, too,” you said as you looked at him.

Kit's lips met yours in fiery desperation, hungry to feel you closer, wanting to absorb you into his very being. His hands moved to your face, cupping your head as his lips danced on your. You tasted his tears along with his relief and frustration, savored the salt and the sweetness of his lips. You threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer than ever, hearts beating in time with each other as your chest pressed against his. Your fingers vanished in his thick hair on his nape, grabbing a handful of it when he suddenly deepened the kiss. Your own mouth moved with his, a new bravery coming to you and you ventured on, even tasted more of the salty tears that had now come from you. Kit was real, this was real. You had found each other. It was all that mattered.

You loved Kit, you could not deny it any longer. You loved him above everything you held dear in your heart. You loved him mightily, loved him with your whole being and you wanted nothing more than to remain in the protection of his arms. You survived to love him, this much you knew. And love him, you will. Without constraint. Without a second thought. Without a care for the judgement of others. He loved you and you loved him. It was all that mattered.

You cried out when his hands pressed against your bruised back, and he pulled his mouth from you, seeking your eyes for any pain. You only buried your face on his neck, breathing deeply and inhaling his scent and found comfort in it from everything that ailed you.

“I love you,” you whispered against his skin. You laid your hand on his chest and felt the fast drumming of his heart, rhythmic with your own. “I am yours to undo, Kit.” you said, repeating the words he had said to you.

He kissed your crown gently. “I love you,” he whispered against your hair. “I will love you forever.”

You remained in each other’s arms after you kissed, sharing no words between you. It was the unsaid that spoke volumes, of the words that did not need saying but you both knew what they were.

It was after a while that you asked how and where he found you. He had replaced you back in your bed, a mountain of pillows behind you as it propped you upright. He still clasped your hands in his, refusing to forgo any contact with you. His thumb brushed gently across the skin of your knuckles, a soothing action that put the both of you at ease.

“The lake we were searching sat near the mountain ridges that held the mines. Something called me to them. It told me to come and seek there. I thought it had been my mother’s spirit, calling to me to rest my head before I go for another search of you. So I went.”

He then told you of how Louis refused to follow the singing voice but reluctantly helped him when Kit told him he was free to leave. It had been your singing that led you to them, and your hallucination of your mother dangling a ribbon to you had been Kit, dangling his own rope to haul you from the deep well. It was his voice that instructed you to tie the ribbon to your waist, the one who asked that you kept singing so you would not be scared. Kit’s eyes were the familiar blue you remembered seeing before everything turned black.

“I am glad you are awake, my love. I would not know what I am to do without you.” Kit told you as you both waited for dinner to be brought to your chambers. He had told the butler and your maid that he and you were to sup in your room; he refused to leave you even for a while.

You gave a wan smile, recalling the nightmare that prompted you to wake and shuddering from it. Your reaction did not go unnoticed by Kit, who took your hand again in his and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles to calm you.

“I dreamt you died,” you whispered, watching as he stiffened against your hand.

He only looked at you with pained eyes, unmoving but did not let go of you. You held on to the warmth that came from him, feeling it strengthen you to tell him of your horrific nightmare. You felt the need to tell him of it, felt that you had to show that it frightened you into waking.

You struggled to gather your thoughts, not wanting to relive the mental torture but you knew it must be said. “I was on a ship,” you told him. “There was a strong storm and the crew were having a difficult time navigating the seas. We could not dock because there was no land in sight.”

“Where were you going?” he asked quietly.

You frowned and swallowed an impossibly large lump on your throat. “Anywhere away from you. I—I could not bear to see how happy you looked when you had married Princess Chelina. I refused to see you smile and not be the one to receive them.”

You let out a shuddering breath, shivering when you felt the phantom heaviness of the dresser against your crushed ankle. It was a dream, Y/N. It was only a dream, you told yourself. You told him what had happened in your nightmare, of the storm that appeared so suddenly to when you were pinned beneath the furniture. “I was able to free myself from the cabin and when I emerged on the deck, there he was.

“The Grand Duke.” You whispered shakily.

He pressed your hand against his cheek now, holding you close, and you felt the roughness of the growing stubble about his skin. The sensation was new but welcomed—anything else was welcomed compared to the pain you felt at the memory.

“The crewmen were gone. No trace that they had even been there at all. There were only four figures; the Grand Duke was standing there and had been holding something in his hand that he dropped at the sound of my voice, and the other two laid on the deck with blooding oozing from them. I do not know who the other one was but it was a female. I called out to my father, hoping he had been the one standing but I received no answer. Then I turned the head of the body closest to me and it was you.”

Your eyes burned. Tears blurred your vision as you looked at Kit’s blue eyes that had become your home.

“I did not know you had followed me when I left. I did not know why you did when you had looked content to be married to the princess but I was too late to ask all of those questions because the Grand Duke had killed you. Your eyes were open but they were glassy; they only went through me without seeing me. You did not rouse when I tried waking you. You did not—”

You sucked in a desperate breath, feeling your throat constrict as your nightmare flashed before you. “You were dead. He killed you. And he wanted to kill me too.”

Kit’s arms wrapped around you once again and he made a soothing sound as he ran his hands in your hair. You released another wave of tears, crying at the sight—at the mere idea—of the Grand Duke coming after the prince. You were defenseless with your still-healing body; although you knew the possibility of your dream coming true was low, it was not an impossibility for it to happen.

“The Grand Duke is under Captain Thibault’s custody now. His trial before the Magistrate is afoot.” Kit told you as he soothed you. “Prince Frederick will ensure we get the justice we deserve.”

You nodded quietly, accepting all that had been said. You relished to be in his arms, to feel the love that radiated from him, basked in it until you were spent from crying.

“Will you stay with me?” you asked of Kit. “I do not wish to be alone with my thoughts and my dreams.”

He pulled from you and gave you a soft smile, brushing his knuckles across your cheek to wipe away the tears. “My love, I will do anything you ask.”

You were anxious when the food arrived. It reminded you of the last time you ate at the Dining Hall, of the time when the king had ingested hemlock. You would have taken it absently, given how emotionally fragile you were then. Kit noticed your reluctance in eating and he sampled everything in your plate and his to show you that the food was harmless. He assured you that the Cook had also been held in custody for her alliance with the Grand Duke.

All other accomplice he had had been captured and kept, he had said, they will not harm us any longer.

Dinner was brief. You had taken only a few bites, despite Kit’s attempt at making you eat more, and you filled the rest of your empty stomach with tea. Kit only frowned but wisely did not comment. When dinner had been cleared away, you offered the space beside you on the bed for him to lie on. He refused, told you that your foot still needed healing and was mindful enough to take into account the many bruises on your tender body, and that he would stay on a chair to keep guard of you. You were exhausted by the end of that conversation and would have engaged in more if your eyelids had not shut close immediately after he assured you.

When you awoke in the morning, Abigail had taken Kit’s place on the chair and was mending your pink dress. She noticed you were awake and passed to you a note and a small bouquet of flowers. You left the bouquet on your lap and opened the missive, finding Kit’s elegant script informing you why he had gone so early.

My love,

I must see to matters of the kingdom while Father is resting. My Cousin and I will be absent for the day. Forgive us for not being able to spend much time with you. Princess Chelina has told me she is at your disposal come this afternoon, should you wish for it. Your maid Abigail will devote her time to you. She will not leave you until I arrive, perhaps by dinner or after. Let her be your hands and feet while you are taking your rest.

I had picked the flowers from the garden. I hope it will keep you company until I return.

All my love forever,

Kit

The bouquet was small: irises, begonias, daisies, and lavenders haphazardly put together and tied with a length of twine. You found amusement in the bouquet, arranging it in a way so they were not crowding against one side. You knew he took extra care in picking out lavenders as they were still plump and full of its sweet-scented buds, unlike the rest of the bunch that look as though they were merely an afterthought. But altogether, however, they were beautiful. You had asked Abigail to put them in a vase beside your bed.

Breakfast was much like dinner; Abigail sampled your food before you ate it and you only nibbled on eggs and bread before telling her your appetite had gone. Tea calmed your churning stomach and you plied yourself with the liquid every now and then, sometimes with sweetmeats when you had gotten hungry. Your maid did not comment on how little you ate but she often looked at you with worry.

“What news of the king?” you asked her when you had tired of looking out your drawn curtains and to the soft rain that was once the riotous storm.

“The king is well, Miss, but the physician says he is to rest until he regains his strength,” Abigail dutifully replied. “In the meantime, it is the prince who oversees the matter of the kingdom.”

You nodded. You wrung your hands on your lap as you asked her nervously: “And of his upcoming nuptials to the Princess Chelina?”

She dropped her mending to look at you, conflicting emotions on her face. She looked in part happy and hopeful, and she also looked sad and piteous at your question. You did not know which emotion was for you.

“They are not to wed,” she replied.

You frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“There are rumors, Miss, of the prince refusing the princess’s hand in marriage, especially after everyone learned of her uncle’s treachery.”

“Rumors?”

She nodded. “The King and Queen of Zaragoza arrived early today. The prince and the princess were called to meet them. We could only assume it is for the dissolution of their engagement since we have not been told to prepare for any festivities.”

“But the king has been insistent on them marrying.” He divorced me from his son for the sole purpose of him marrying the foreign royal, you wished to add but refrained from it.

“If so, they were to be married upon the arrival of her parents. The Head Housekeeper has not ordered meats and breads and flowers for us to prepare, and it takes an awful long time to do them, Miss.”

You remembered Kit’s missive, of Princess Chelina’s availability only in the afternoon. Your heart gave a wild thump at the coincidence of Abigail’s words and his letter. Will they really meet with Princess Chelina’s parents? Did he truly refuse to marry her? A hopeful voice in you asked. Kit would be free to marry whomever he chooses.

But do not assume it will be you, another voice said, this one a tad derisive than the other. The king insisted he wed a princess, not a country girl or a diplomat’s daughter, especially one who has brought on more trouble than what she’s worth.

You refused to acknowledge the evil voice in your head but you knew the words were true. Even if Kit and Chelina’s engagement were to end, his father would only find another princess for him to marry. And you were not. The king had made it glaringly obvious, most especially during your last dinner with them.

“Is the princess an accomplice of the Gr—her-her uncle?” you asked slowly, unable to express the words without feeling the kiss of dread on your back. Just the mere thought of the man sent you into a spiral of anxiety.

But Abigail shook her head a little too solemnly. “No, Miss. She has been frightened of him since learning what he had done to the queen, the king, and to you. She had kept watch of you ever since your return, all because she wishes to apologize for what he had done.”

Perhaps you had misjudged the princess when you awoke. In your dreams, she was Kit’s newly wedded wife, as was the king’s plan for her. And the ribbon that she often wore on her hair looked so much like the terrible gash on Kit’s neck that leaked his blood. If Abigail spoke the truth, then when the princess burst into your room to heed your pleas for help… You cringed. You were monstrous to her. Louis was correct in saying she had been a victim of her uncle too.

You and Abigail talked of other matters and you were glad the topic was diverted into something else other than the awful man. She was enchanting company; she talked of her days with the Captain of the Guards and how the Head Housekeeper nearly caught them cavorting with each other. You were happy that she was happy with Captain Thibault and you decided that you were to ask for Kit’s help to bring them much closer together. And Abigail, loyal as she was to you, she decided then and there that if you were to leave the palace once you have recuperated, she would wish to be in your employ as your lady’s maid.

“Although,” Abigail had said as brushed your hair. “I wish you could remain here, Miss. The palace has become lively with you in it. It is like the days before Queen Amalie’s death has returned.”

You left your conversation at that.

Kit arrived by dinnertime.

“I hoped the flowers sufficed during my absence,” Kit said as he returned to his seat. He looked much improved since seeing him yesterday, as though your awakening had done wonders for him. He appeared to be jollier as well, making him look nearly identical with his cousin.

“They were lovely.” You smiled at him as he reached for your hand. “Thank you.”

“Louis shall join us shortly,” he informed you as he slipped his fingers in between yours. “How was your day?”

“Uneventful. I cannot leave my bed, even if I wanted to.” You gave him a sarcastic smirk, of which he returned with a laughing one. It was refreshing to be this open with him; a marked contrast after all the times you were forced to keep your love for him to yourself.

You watched him, debating on asking him about his and Princess Chelina’s engagement but you caught yourself. You were not in the position to ask him of such; it was his and the princess’s business. Despite the newfound candour you had with him, his relationships were a line you dared not cross.

“No one will stop you if you spoke what’s on your mind, my love,” Kit urged. “Tell me. I shall answer however I can.”

You bit your lower lip, wanting to ask him but at the same time, wanting to remain ignorant. What if the rumors were incorrect? That Kit and Chelina only met with her parents because they wished to push forward the wedding to an earlier date? That they only wanted a small ceremony so as to not draw much attention to how sickly the king was? What if they had already been married in secret?

“Y/N?”

“Is it true?” you blurted. You could not bear to remain in the shadows any longer. “That you and the princess will no longer marry each other?”

“Ah.” was all Kit said. He leaned back on his seat, stretching his legs, but he did not let go of your hand. “Yes, it is true.”

A wave of relief washed through you. But it was short-lived. His father will still want a princess for him, he had told you as much. You dared not hope.

“I was not present to watch you wake because we spoke with the King and Queen of Zaragoza today. Chelina and I told of our plan to not marry each other. They were quite peeved at the turn of events but they concurred when we told them the truth.”

You cocked your head to the side, watching his face. There was no regret on it and he only spoke as though it was all purely for business and for the kingdom. In that moment, he looked quite princely as he spoke.

“What truth?” you asked.

“That the engagement was her uncle’s machinations. The Grand Duke wished to install Chelina and control her once she becomes queen.”

You shivered. You would have guessed the nobleman was misogynistic if only his ire and disdain had been directed at other women as well, not just you.

You felt the gentle pressure of Kit’s hand against yours, belatedly realizing that your hand shook at the mention of the ghastly noble.

“While they maintained that they were unaware of his plans, they still urged us to honor the engagement since Chelina is already present in the kingdom.”

Your eyes flicked to him, at the wry twist of his mouth. You refused to name the way your heart broke at their suggestion. Surely, a prince and a princess could not decline such a suggestion, especially when it came from monarchs of a powerful kingdom?

“I have never seen the princess be so determined until earlier today.” Kit told you, now in amusement and awe. Your heart gave a painful thud at the admiration you saw that sparked in his eyes. “During the times she was here, she had been docile and aloof. When we spoke to her parents, there was a fire to her spirit. She told them it was her decision to not marry me because I had been through enough heartache and she would not want to saddle me with herself, seeing as I do not love her. She said it would be cruel of her to force the two of us to such fate when there is a solution to mine.”

You only kept watch of him, of the soft, loving smile that graced his lips as he now beheld you. Princess Chelina advocated for the dissolution of their engagement? Because she knew he did not love her? It was an absurd argument. You knew of other kingdoms whose kings and queens did not marry for love and yet their kingdoms thrived under their rule.

“In that moment, I knew she would make for a great queen.” Kit said proudly. “Just not mine.”

You were quiet for a while, letting the soft brush of his thumb against your hand fill your senses. “I have seen how Louis and Princess Chelina are fond of each other,” you said casually, looking for his reaction.

He chuckled heartily before he kissed the top of your hand. “Fond? They are in love, much like you and I.”

Oh. You smiled, unable to name the way your heart filled with happiness for your dearest friend. It seemed as though his longing stares were not one-sided as you had thought.

Conversations halted when the food arrived. You were famished from not having enough food throughout the day, having eaten only tea and sweetmeats, that you did not wait for Kit to sample your food for poison. He only smiled affectionately at you as you attacked your meal with vigor. Louis arrived when you were half-way through with your meal, smiling as he commented on how ravenous you were. You decided to ignore how unladylike you looked as you ate.

“Have you had your dinner?” you asked when he settled beside his cousin, a cup of tea in his hands. There was a tiredness to his face and you recalled the letter Kit had penned, of Louis helping him with matters of the kingdom.

“It was like a state banquet, pet,” he replied, stretching his legs and crossing it at the ankles. “I dined with my uncle and the King and Queen of Zaragoza. The only topics of conversation had been politics and economics.”

You smiled.

He looked at the cup in his hand, swirling the liquid in it. “I confess I miss having tea with you. Kit is surly whenever we have tea and I cannot seem to get your concoction right. Mine are always bitter or too floral to the senses.” He crinkled his nose for added effect.

You chuckled. “Perhaps he is surly because your tea does not taste pleasant.”

“You do not have to mince your words around me. You can tell me it is horrid; I heard Kit say it so. I know I do not possess a prowess for tea blending.”

You smiled. “Only for tea drinking, I fear.”

Louis erupted into guffaws. “Oh, pet, it is nice to have you back.”

The conversation carried on until the rest of the night. You learned that Louis had taken the role of adviser to Kit while he took care of the kingdom’s business. The matters of the kingdom had increased in number since the start of the trial. The devastation the storm had wrought added more to the already waiting pile of work that was left by the king and his perfidious adviser. But Kit and Louis did not protest their work. They merely talked of it as though it were an everyday conversation topic.

They had asked of your opinion for some of them, asked how it had been in other kingdoms and lands and if their plans would benefit the people more than burden them. Your inputs were appreciated by them; often times they would turn to each other and exclaim that you had found the solution they were looking for. Your heart warmed at the casual conversation. As the night wore on, you found yourself blinking and yawning more than you had in hours. You fell asleep as they were talking of the mines and the gemstones.

The days that followed were mundane at best. Kit had gone before you awoke but he always picked a small bouquet to leave you, always with lavenders. Abigail had brought an embroidery project so you were not weary of the same days. You were able to finish two cushions in a week. For someone who thrived on travelling and meeting new people, your confinement to your bed was like a punishment. You were a creature of adventure; keeping you in one place was almost physically painful to you. The pains in your body had gone, leaving you only with scattered dull aches and healing bruises, mostly from the places where you had broken your fall. Your foot was healing as expected but it was still not strong enough to carry your weight.

Come dinner, you were often accompanied by Kit and Louis would arrive soon after, telling you of more stories he heard from the Zaragozan royals during their supper. The skies had turned for the better; no more storms and if there were rain, it was only a spray-like mist that often entered your open window.

On the very week after you had awoken, you promised yourself you would speak to the princess after you had your lunch. You were not in any position to snub royalty and you felt you must apologize for your atrocious behaviour towards her. You believed you were well enough to face the kin of the man who wanted you dead without feeling any anxiety.

Princess Chelina arrived in your chambers, looking as haunted as when you had first seen Kit when you awoke. The pallor of her skin worried you, as were the tearstains that tracked down her hollow cheeks.

“Miss Y/N.” Despite her appearance, her tone was happy and relieved. “I see you are faring better.”

“Your Royal Highness, please forgive my lack of curtsying. The physician warned me against using my foot and he would not have me out of the bed before it is healed,” you said.

You saw that she kept a respectful distance from you. You gestured for the chair nearest to your bed. “Please, Your Royal Highness.”

When she sat, you motioned for the tea set that was beside her. Abigail had poured and prepared everything for your conversation with the princess. “Tea, Your Royal Highness?”

She graciously declined the biscuits but nursed her teacup in her hands. She watched you expectantly, still as regal despite the sadness that lurked behind her eyes.

“You must forgive my reaction to your coming into my room, Your Royal Highness. I thought—”

She raised a hand and halted your words. She gave a gentle shake of her head. “You must not apologize. It is I—”

“But you are a victim as well,” you said, frowning.

“As were you.” She sipped the tea, turning to look at the cloudy summer sky. “My uncle, he did horrifying things to you and to Kit’s family. I could not apologize enough for his transgressions.”

“It was not your fault, Your Royal—”

She turned to you, a soft smile on her lips. “Please. You must call me Chelina.”

You paused to smile, nodding smally at her request. “You must not burden yourself with the sins of your kin, Chelina. It was not your doing. You were unaware that such a thing happened. I apologize for making the mistake of thinking you were involved in his plans.”

The smile she gave you was polite and one of absolution. “I feel terrible for what he’s done. It wasn’t right. And he planned to marry me to the prince only so he could control me.” You saw the shiver than ran through her frame. “He is hideous. I cannot fathom the darkness that goes through inside his mind.”

“It is one darkness I would not wish upon you,” you told her gravely. “You were lucky to escape his clutches.”

“I truly am sorry, Miss—”

“Y/N, please,” you offered.

“Y/N. I am sorry you had to endure those days in the well. I could only imagine the pain and suffering you had gone through.”

You swallowed the lump that formed on your throat. Your palms had started to sweat and you wiped them on your covers. You breathed evenly for a few moments, steadying your heartbeat that started to drum in your ears.

“Those days are gone now. I am found. He is in trial. All will be well in the end.” You told her. You reached for her hand and gave a squeeze. “If forgiveness is what you seek for his crimes, then I forgive you even if you have no fault on the matter. Forgive yourself, too, for the sins that are not your own.”

She squeezed your hand in return and gave you a grateful smile. Her shoulders lifted as if your pardoning her removed the heavy burden from her. But still, you knew in yourself that the tears she shed were not for her uncle. They were for another matter entirely. You would have asked if she had not spoken first.

“Why did you not tell me you were wed to Kit?” Chelina asked as she drank from her cup.

It was bound to be brought up, you surmised. “The king wanted us to be divorced. It would not have mattered if you knew because our marriage would have been dissolved before your wedding to him. It would have been a great scandal if the people knew.”

The soft clanging of the cup against the saucer was the only sound in the room.

“Why?” you asked her. “Why will you not marry Kit?”

Chelina gave a tired, mirthless smile and ran a hand down her skirts, straightening it. “The queen’s premature death was by my uncle’s hand. I do not think the people would take kindly to his niece being the kingdom’s future queen. I will be unpopular with them and I will not serve my purpose if they do not want me to lead and serve them.”

“All for diplomacy, then?” you asked. “Not because of a certain duke, particularly one from Granville?” you ventured.

She stiffened in her seat and the sadness that lurked behind her eyes now resurfaced. Her lips quivered as a tear rolled down her cheek. She drew a hand to her mouth to shield away how it trembled at the mention of your dear friend.

“I am to leave tonight, for Zaragoza.” she whispered brokenly.

“But you love him—”

“Love has no room for princesses.” The scorn in her tone reminded you of her uncle but whilst his was of anger, hers was resigned and a resentment of her stature.

The composed façade she kept upon her entrance had finally crumbled. Gone was the regal Princess of Zaragoza and in its place was another lovelorn woman, regretful and mournful of the love she was to leave. You knew how the heartbreak felt—knew of it firsthand—but for someone in her stature, you could only fathom that it hurt a hundredfold.

“He is not a prince. My father and my mother will not choose a mere duke for me. They will find another royal in desperate need of a wife and they will offer me,” she spat hatefully although you could hear the surrender in them. Her tears flowed now but she made no move to wipe them.

You could only nod, words evading you. You let her cry, gave her leave to show the emotions you knew she would only hide from her parents.

“Have you said your goodbyes to him?” you asked quietly after she stopped her tears.

“I cannot,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I cannot face him. I… I cannot bear to see the pain on his face.”

You reached for her hand again and gave it a squeeze.

“I do not want to see him lonely.” She closed her eyes briefly and a frown marred her features. “It is not like him, to be sad. He is the epitome of jolliness and carefree leisure. It would be unnatural to see any other emotion on his face.”

You gave her hand another squeeze, in agreement to her words.

“Do you think he will be angry at me for leaving without saying my farewells?” She looked at you now, eyes wide and tearful once more. “Perhaps it will make it easier for him to forget me if he is angry with me. Perhaps it would be easier for me if he hated me.”

You shook your head passionately, pained that she would even consider such thought. “No. No. Louis is nothing of that sort. He will only hurt but he cannot hate you. He will never hate on someone he loves.”

Her lips trembled once again but she held herself. “How would you know? You and he are good friends. I doubt there was a time you deliberately hurt each other.”

You smiled sadly at the memory of the moment he knew of yours and Kit’s marriage and pulled back from holding her hand. “Oh, I had. When I did not tell him his cousin and I were married, he felt betrayed. It was the angriest I had seen him but he never hated me. He understood why I could not tell him. He would be understanding to your plight as well.”

Chelina took a sip of her tea and replaced it on the saucer clumsily. She took a shuddering breath and when you thought she had finally composed herself, another tear fell from her eye.

“Still, I cannot bid him goodbye,” she whispered achingly. “I do not want to remember his face and be reminded that I had been the one who put the pain there.”

You only nodded your head, understanding her. You would have done the same if Kit had married Chelina. “I understand.”

She took another sip of her tea.

“Would you like me to convey your goodbyes?” you asked of her.

She shook her head. “I do not know what to say.”

You watched her, wanting to pity her but refrained from doing so because you knew she would not let you. You had not known the princess long—had been avoiding her so she and Kit may spend time to get to know one another—but you knew she would make a great friend. Chelina was loyal and kind. And Kit was correct; she had the makings of a great queen. You could only hope the prince her parents would choose for her was kind and loyal as she was. Or the prince they would choose was a duke instead.

She deposited the cup and saucer on the table beside you. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“What for?” you asked.

“For your kindness to me despite what my uncle had done to you.”

You gave a smile, heart clenching at the sad tone of her voice. “It was not your fault. You must not burden yourself with his sins.”

If she were trying to smile, it ended looking much like a grimace.

“Would it be amiss if I were to ask you to be my friend?” you asked her.

You watched the stunned look at her face before it softened into one of graciousness. “I would be honored to call you my friend, Y/N,” she said

Your smile turned brilliant, as did hers. There was an instant camaraderie in the both of you. “I promise I shall write to you when you leave. I hope my letters will make do until I am well again to travel.”

“I shall look forward to them.”

You talked of other things for the rest of the day, learning that there were similarities between the two of you. She would have loved to travel if given the chance to and you felt the passion she had for music in the way she spoke of it. She talked of other personal matters, thoughts and ideas she had not shared to anyone except to you, her new friend. You, in turn, shared your other secrets that were unknown to Louis or to anyone else. You conversed as though you were old friends, and as the day went on did you realize that the princess had never been given the chance to become this animated with anyone else.

Your conversation was only interrupted when the royal physician arrived. Princess Chelina bid you farewell—almost reluctantly, you noticed—and left with a promise to show you her kingdom when you were to go there.

Kit arrived for dinner the same time as he had everyday for the past week.  

“Did you know they were leaving tonight?” you asked as soon as he sat on his chair.

He did not need elaborating because there were only a handful of people who were bound to leave the palace that night. “Yes. It was decided when we talked to them a week past. The seas would be calm for them to travel safely.”

“Does Louis know?”

He paused. “No, I do not think so.”

You frowned. Surely, Louis would have heard talks of the Zaragozan royals’ leaving that evening. He would be privy to some gossip as he could charm anyone he wished.

“I heard you talked with Chelina earlier today.” Kit said as he took notice of the vase that held his daily floral pickings. You had not thrown any of the flowers he had given you, combining his old pickings with the new ones you had received earlier today.

“Yes, we both apologized to each other.” You replied distractedly, mind resolute on the matter. “Kit, Louis does not know she is leaving?”

He shook his head as he turned to you. “No. If he had, he would have mentioned it.”

“It will break his heart.” You almost saw how it would devastate him.

“I know.”

“He will be the surly one now.” And how unusual of him to be so!

“I know.”

“He would grumble and be insufferable about it.” Given how peeving he already was, it was no question how much more grumbly he would become.

“I know.”

You directed your grimace at him. “Kit, I cannot believe how nonchalant you are about this. He is your cousin. Have compassion on the man who is about to have his heart broken.”

He sighed, looking ruefully at you.  “Forgive me, my love. You must know that I do care for him. Will you believe me if I said I had tried all that I could to convince her parents that he will suit Chelina despite his lack of royal title?”

You sobered. It was wrong of you to assume Kit did not care for his cousin. You sighed as well, apologetic. “I only worry for him. You know how much I love Louis despite how vexatious he could be.”

He took your hand and kissed it. “Of course. You are each other’s dearest friends. But the King and Queen of Zaragoza are resolute. They only want her to marry royalty. I could only do so much in my power.”

You did not doubt of his words. Chelina had said as much during your conversation earlier that day. And you knew Kit, knew he would resort to pleading if he had to, for the sake of his loved ones’ happiness.

You curved your hand on his cheek and felt the prickling of a stubble that was forming on his chin. You had become bold in touching Kit, dashing propriety for the sake of comfort. You and he always sought each other after the end of every day and had been inseparable since. “I’m sorry I’m being churlish. I cannot help but worry for him. I haven’t seen him in love but now that he has, he’s chosen the forbidden one.”

“Our love was forbidden as well but the world has conspired to bring us together after it tore us apart.” He smiled and you ran your thumb against his lips. He gave it a little kiss. “But her parents are set on their decision. They cannot be swayed. I can only hope they will choose right for her.”

You nodded. One could only hope for the time being. You smiled at him, smoothing the tired lines beside his beautiful eyes. “How was your day?”

He leaned into your palm. “Quite the same. More matters that needed seeing. The miners are trickling back to their mining village and will be hard at work soon. Our trade with Prince Frederick’s kingdom is slowly coming to fruition. The trial is also progressing as it should.”

You smiled at his accomplishments then bit your lip when a thought occurred to you. “If I take up your time that you can use for business, I would understand—”

“No,” he said as he shook his head. “Never. I always look forward to the time I would be spending with you.”

“Kit…”

“I finish quicker whenever I think of sharing my evenings with you.”

“But still—”

He raised an amused brow at you. “Is this your way of saying you’ve grown tired of my presence?” he joked, grin impish.

You chuckled at the unexpected joke. Now, you saw how he and Louis were related. “Oh, no! Never! I would never tire of you. I would always want to be in your presence. And you are far less vexing than your cousin. I find he speaks a lot. I would rather have you than him or any other person after a long day.”

“Good. I would hate to compete against someone for your attention.” He kissed your palm again. “I am a jealous man, my love. I do not think I would take kindly to the other person who vies for your time and affection.”

“Then you are in good luck because there is no one else but you.” you told him with a smile.

The smile that came upon his face was beautiful and splendid.

When Louis arrived, there was nothing on his face that told you he had any idea of the princess and her family’s imminent departure. He only appeared his jolly self, bearing with him a tray of tea tins and a steaming pot of hot water. His entire demeanour was one of blissful ignorance and you loathe to be the source of his heartache. You kept silent on the matter.

Louis would understand, you thought, convincing yourself that you were only acting in his best interest. The charming duke had been understanding before with your predicament. How different would this be?

"To be a Princess, you have to believe that you’re a Princess." - Mia Thermopolis-Renaldi

ANNE HATHAWAY AS MIA THERMOPOLIS THE PRINCESS DIARIES (2001) Dir. Garry Marshall

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Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban 2004 | dir. Alfonso Cuarón

The Accidental Princess (Part 10)

Prince Kit x Reader

Synopsis: A contract has been found after twenty years, bearing your name and the Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Synopsis: Kit learns the truth

Word Count: 13.9k words

Warnings: angst, a bit of violence, mentions of poison and murder, period-typical misogyny. if i missed out on something lmk :)

A/N: Hey, everyone! This is just mostly blurb and more of Prince Kit's POV so I hope it's not too boring. Thank you to the people still reading this! There's still one more chapter before the last one so just hang on! As always, your thoughts, comments, suggestions, requests (and reblogs) are very much welcome! Thank you to the people taking their time reviewing each and every chapter! Not beta'd, all mistakes are mine. Enjoy Part 10 of The Accidental Princess!

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Epilogue

Kit always knew there was something about the Grand Duke that did not sit well with him. The man was too pompous for his own good, too proud of achievements he was yet to show, and he always had a menacing air about him. Kit only thought it was the Prussian pride in him but it was something else entirely.

The man killed his mother.

His mother, who the kingdom loved for her benevolence and service, who the kingdom mourned for her sudden passing. His mother did not die because of the heat of the sun. She did not pass for no reason.

She passed because she was killed by a foreigner in her own kingdom.

I have reason to believe Queen Amalie’s death was not accidental.

You suspected. Of all people in the palace, all the people who were present when it had happened, it was you who suspected. You, who did not know his mother, who had only been in the palace because of your accidental marriage to him. You, who started to uncover the events of her death because you were suspicious of tea leaves—of all things!—and had gone missing because of it.

You were missing. All because you saved his father from suffering the same fate his mother had.

His father. The Grand Duke used the hemlock—which you had thought was intended for you—on his father!

His father trusted the man, the very same man who murdered his queen.

And for what? You did not know—you would not know—because only the nobleman can answer that question.

Kit always thought him jealous of his mother’s achievements. It was apparent that she had passed more laws as compared to the man who boasted he had been a royal adviser to one of the princes in his country. The late Queen Amalie passed laws that benefitted the people and they all loved her for it. Whilst the Grand Duke had not but one law that he had passed and it did not bode well to the people of the kingdom . The man’s jealousy was as pernicious as the poison he placed on the queen’s tea.

The prince’s hands fisted your letter. Jealousy, he thought angrily. The man was jealous and he decided that the best way to have dealt with the emotion was to have her killed.

Kit strode towards the door without a word. He had every intention of making the nobleman pay for his actions. He killed his mother, he attempted to murder his father, and he had a hand in your vanishing. The man must be dealt with immediately!

His hand wrapped around the doorknob and pulled it open, only for it to shut close. He glared at his cousin, who was now looking at him with alarmed eyes.

“Cousin! What are you doing?” Louis asked. His hand, which had pushed the door shut, was still against it.

“What does it look like I am doing!” He boomed in anger. “He singlehandedly hurt my family! He must pay for his actions!”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” the duke asked, pushing the prince away from the door. “By killing him?”

“He killed my mother,” he declared angrily. “He must be held accountable for his heinous crimes.”

“This will only alarm the man, Kit,” Louis reasoned. “And think of diplomacy!”

Diplomacy? His cousin was absurd. The nobleman did not think of diplomacy when he deliberately poisoned the queen!

“Damn diplomacy!” the prince spat.

“No. You will not damn diplomacy,” his cousin told him. “We do not want to sour our relationship with Prussia because you decided to kill one of their citizens in your quest for vengeance.”

“But he hurt my family!” Kit exclaimed in disbelief of his cousin.

Louis had never been one to think of diplomacy when he dealt with his matters. Why now? Why was he to play by the rules when the Grand Duke did not.

Louis remained calm, however severe what had happened was. “Yes, he did. And we have proof. We have enough proof to accuse him of such.” When he saw the prince ready to rebut his reason, the duke clamped his hands on his shoulders and shook him in frustration. “Act rational, cousin! I understand that you had been wronged, as have all of us, but if you decide to plunge your sword in his heart, what then? Your anger only clouds your judgement.”

“My judgement is sound.” Kit pushed Louis away from him. “I say he dies.”

“And he will. In due time.”

Kit frowned at his cousin. In due time? He had taken his mother’s life long before her time! Who was Louis to tell when the right time was for the Grand Duke to die? All for diplomacy? Unless Louis was acting with the man…

He looked at the duke sharply, eyes accusatory and angry. “Why are you prolonging the inevitable for the man? Are you in league with him?”

His accusation caught the duke off-guard. He looked at his cousin with confusion as he reeled back. “I beg your pardon?” he lashed in surprise.

“It seems to me you are defending him!”

“And it seems to me you’re being an uncomprehending ass! Are you even hearing yourself, Kit? Me? In league with the man who killed your mother?”

“Yes, so he may bring over his nice that you so love. The same niece who is betrothed to me!” Kit should have seen that his cousin was jealous. He may be older and in possession of one of the oldest and grandest titles in the land but he was not a prince. And he was not betrothed to the Princess Chelina.

Louis glared at the mention of the princess. “Do not—”

“She agreed to be betrothed to me! She has agreed to marry me even before she had even met me! She desires to be queen to a land her uncle has already infiltrated! Her designs are the same as her uncle’s. If he is evil, so is she.” he declared, eyes challenging the glare from the duke.

“Her uncle’s actions are not her own.” He told him, his tone serious and grave. “Do not think her capable of such evil ideas!”

“Are you even thinking, Granville? You—”

“Yes, I am.” Louis ground out viciously. “I am thinking for the greater good of everyone. I demand satisfaction like you for what had happened, but I also demand that you do not question my allegiance because you must know I am loyal to you. Do not accuse me of scheming with the man because I am in love with his niece. If you would even think that I had a hand in killing your mother—my aunt!—then you are sorely mistaken. We grew together, Kit. That in itself would account for my loyalty to you and to your family.”

The duke advanced to his cousin and grabbed him by his coat so they saw eye to eye. “And if I let you act on your anger and kill the Grand Duke, what then? Only he knows where Y/N is. If you kill him, we might never see her ever again. And I know you cannot bear to think of that possibility.”

He pushed the prince away and huffed in frustration.

Louis’s tirade chastised him. Kit shrunk back and walked away from his cousin, only to sit heavily on a chair.

He was right. His anger only clouded his judgement, much like how his pain fogged his memory of your putting lavenders in your letters. If Kit had acted on his anger and killed the nobleman without hesitation, he knew he would be plagued with more answers than ever before and would have accomplished nothing. Diplomacy was only a reason for Louis to stop him from going after the nobleman’s neck. The duke was thinking much clearly than he was.

“Forgive me, cousin. I—I—I didn’t know what came over me.” Kit apologized, frowning at his own words and actions.

The duke heaved a deep, regretful sigh. “I understand your anger. I am angry too. The man did things that are inconceivable and for what?” Louis stood before his cousin, patting him on the shoulder. “You must keep a level head, cousin. It is for the best.”

Kit only nodded. “I just want all things to return as how they were,” he said. “I want my mother’s death avenged, my father to be well, and for Y/N to be found.” He swallowed a painfully thick lump in his throat. “Do you think we are not too late? For Y/N? Do you think he spared her?”

“I do not know,” Louis admitted quietly. “But I can promise you that I will deploy my best men to scour the kingdom for her. They will not stop until they find her… or her body.”

Kit did not like the thought of your corpse returning to him. There were a lot of unsaid words and actions not yet done between the two of you. He could not take it if you were dead. He did not think he would survive without you.

“But for now,” Louis said as Kit turned to him. “We must gather all evidence Y/N has stated in her letter. We need to prove his guilt. We would not want what she had worked so hard for to only be in vain.”

Kit merely nodded. “Yes.”

Louis patted his shoulder. “Good man.” He broke away from his cousin. “What’s our first order of business?”

Kit looked at the crumpled paper in his hand. You stated everything that was needed to indict the Grand Duke. They only need to follow through your orders. You were brilliant in your uncovering of this plot but he would rather you not pay for your life. He would do everything to have you back, including killing the nobleman responsible. If he lingered on his heartbreak and pain, he would not accomplish anything.

He rose from his seat, his resolve renewed. “We must talk to Captain Thibault about this so he may assist us. You send your men a missive while I tell the captain of what had happened. We will convene in my father’s chambers.”

He left his cousin’s room with purposeful strides, heading to his father. He instructed the footmen to send for Thibault and to not let the Grand Duke near his father’s chambers. Inside, the physician met him with no news of improvement on his father’s condition, only assuring him that he had expected the king to take an extended sleep after such an ordeal. Kit nodded and asked the man if your—and his—suspicions were correct.

“My findings, Your Royal Highness?” the doctor asked, unsure.

Kit gave a tight nod.

The physician opened his brown notebook and peered at what he had written during the night.

“Let me preface, Your Royal Highness, that there was no need for me to alarm you by having not told you of my findings last night. The worst was over and the king was saved.” He cleared his throat and read on. “The food contents the king had vomited were one and the same with the food that had been served during dinner. There is, however, the presence of an emetic that I had taken note of. The reason for the use of the emetic was to induce vomiting when one is poisoned with hemlock.”

But Kit was unfazed with the information since you had already discovered of it.

“And how did he get poisoned with the hemlock?” he asked instead.

The physician only regarded the prince with an odd look, at Kit’s being unbothered with the news, before he schooled his features. “The vegetable dish, Your Royal Highness. I had come down to the kitchens to inspect the food and found hemlock within the pantry. It is easily mistaken for parsnip because of how similar the roots are in appearance but it is in the stem that I had differentiated it with the poisonous herb. The king, your father, partook what he thought was parsnip and was immediately poisoned due to the large portion he had ingested. I had already disposed of the hemlock so there would be no other victims.”

Kit neared his father and watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest. His father had been near death if it weren’t for your quick thinking. The hemlock you thought was for you had been used on his father and the emetic you had bought saved his life.

Clearly, the Grand Duke wanted to rid of his father the way he did with his mother. Although, he did not know why the man would do such a thing. The king had given him a position among his council: a seat in his assembly upon the queen’s passing and the position’s vacancy. He even heeded his advice, despite the fact that since the arrival of the Grand Duke, the kingdom had fared poorer than before. He was already in a position of power.

What more did he want? Kit thought to himself.

He turned to the physician and said: “I need your trust, doctor. But before that, I need to know if you have no ill intention towards my father.”

“I do not wish the king ill, Your Royal Highness.” He told him earnestly.

Kit nodded. “I entrust my father’s life to you. We had not been fortunate to save my mother’s life and so, we shall take utmost care to save my father’s. What I will say must be kept in strict confidence. You shall only confide in the Captain of the Guards, the Duke of Granville, and I. Do you understand my words, sir?"

"Yes, Your Royal Highness. I am your humble servant.”

“Then know that you cannot trust the Grand Duke. You are to stay with my father until I tell you to leave. If you are given orders that did not directly come from me or the Duke of Granville or the Captain, then you are free to disregard them. Ours are the only orders you will heed.”

When the physician agreed, Kit set his plan into motion. He made a small office for himself near the door, barricading access to his father with the long table he asked to be brought over. Louis had returned some time after writing two missives: one to his men in Granville to search for you and the other to Prince Frederick of Prussia on behalf of Kit, asking for his presence so they may deal with matters regarding the Grand Duke’s punishment. Kit thanked him for his quick thinking.

Captain Thibault arrived a few moments after Louis. He looked concernedly at the prince when he saw the determined look upon his face. “What is the matter, Your Royal Highness?”

Kit passed the letter to the captain and said nothing more.

“Your mother was poisoned?” Thibault asked after he read through your letter.

“As was my father,” Kit said gravely. “Captain, I need your men to guard this room while my cousin and I gather the pieces of evidence Y/N had written down. I do not trust anyone else to do it but ourselves at the moment.”

Louis turned to his cousin, brows quirked as he recalled their earlier conversation. “Kit, you were insistent that I called for Y/N last night. How did you come about that?”

“A footman told her you summoned her to the library.” Kit answered.

“If I had called for Y/N, I would have sent my valet to collect her. Or myself since it is never a tedious task to come for my friend.” The duke turned to the Captain. “I fear we have a traitor amongst our midst, Captain.”

Kit was angered at Louis’s revelation. He turned to the physician and remembered the man’s finding of the poisonous root crop within the pantry. “I do not think the kitchen staff are unknowledgeable of which crops are poisonous and which are not. Have someone investigate the kitchens as well. The physician had seen hemlock in the pantry. I would assume it is not placed there deliberately.” Kit ordered the Captain. “Keep them in the dungeons so we may deal with them later.”

Thibault bowed slightly at the prince’s words. “While I understand your need for secrecy at a time like this, what you are attempting is dangerous.” He said when he handed the letter back to Kit. “The Grand Duke will surely hear of this.”

“Then we must take extra care when we gather the evidence. This cannot be known outside of this circle.” Kit said.

The Captain nodded. “While I believe Her Royal—Miss Y/N’s words to be true, we must go about this without bias. Her word is only as good as that in the face of the law. There is no weight to it until we find the first proof.”

“Of course,” Kit nodded. “Can we trust Abigail, Captain?”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness.”

“Then have her look for the canister of tea leaves in her room. Tell her not to trust anyone for the task. She must be the one to do it and should only directly answer to any of us.”

Thibault bowed. Kit turned to his cousin.

“Find the book Y/N talks of. It should be in the library, along with my mother’s other botany and herbology books. Find a way for the Grand Duke to not be suspicious of you.”

“What will you do?” Louis asked as he readied himself.

“I will have a talk with the Princess Chelina. If she has an idea of Y/N’s whereabouts, then we may have need of her.”

“Do not accuse—”

Kit brought a hand up to stop the duke’s berating. “I will not accuse her of anything she is not,” the prince promised. “But if she so much as says she is a part of her uncle’s schemes, then I am sorry, cousin.”

Louis nodded grimly. “I understand. Do not hurt her.”

At Kit’s parting words, he and the captain left for their respective tasks. Kit gave instructions once more to the physician and the footmen stationed outside of his father’s room before he headed for the Princess of Zaragoza.

He found her in the sitting room with her maid. She had been playing her guitar and while she looked distraught at what had happened the night before, she looked oblivious of the revelations of the morning.

“Your Royal Highness,” Chelina said as she rose from her seat to curtsy.

“Princess,” he said as he gave her a bow. He dismissed her maid and closed the door, locking it from the rest of the palace. “There is a grave matter I wish to discuss with you.”

“Of course.” She looked confused as she sat demurely on her seat. “How may I help you?”

Kit cleared his throat and paced the room as he considered how he was to go about the matter without alarming her. Having no other choice—and no time to waste—he asked her directly. “Why did you agree to this betrothal?”

The only indication of her surprise was the miniscule raise of her brow. “Because it is what is expected of me,” she said plainly.

“Surely I am not the only prince and kingdom who has offered for your hand.” Kit said as he stood before her. “Why did you choose me?”

She gave him a smile of amusement as she arranged herself in her seat. “I am flattered at your assumption that there had been others but there was only you. I had not been made aware of any other offers other than that of yours and your kingdom’s.”

He raised his brow at that. Only him? he thought to himself. She would have a multitude of offers just for her being Princess of Zaragoza alone.

“And who made this known to you?” he asked, although he had an inkling of who it was.

“My uncle, the Grand Duke.”

Of course. “What did he say the reason was for our betrothal?”

She looked at the prince peculiarly. “You had not asked me of this before. Is there a reason you are asking me now?"

"I would appreciate if you answer my question, Princess,” was all Kit said.

Her brow raised further but she replied to his query. “Very well. He said that your kingdom is bountiful and rich and it needed a royal from a family who knew what to do with its resources.”

He knew his kingdom was rich in resources but in the past year, there was a steep decline in the yield as compared to those of the years before. He had been privy to the kingdom’s accounts and he saw how the crops made for less than they had in the previous years. Taxes had been raised, much to the resentment of the citizens, and yet it had done nothing for the kingdom. Their other products had not been faring well and it was this that his father wanted to sell the mines.

The mines.

His mother was gifted, upon her marriage to his father, the mountain ridge that held the biggest mine in the kingdom. They had surveyed the mines, appraised its value, and found them to be worth more than all of the current products combined.

If Kit married Chelina, she would be gifted the mines, as was the tradition. And she could do as she pleased with them. She could sell them, with her uncle’s advise.

The Grand Duke had been pressuring his father to do the very thing. What was he to gain with them?

Unless he was to divert the money of its sale into his own account.

Kit had always been curious of the man’s sudden rise to more riches. He had said he merely brought over his money and treasures from Prussia into the kingdom. If he were to pocket the money from the sale of the mines, it would make him nearly equal in riches to the king.

It was a plausible thought. It did not seem beyond the man for him to do it. After all, he had murdered the queen.

“Did he tell you of our kingdom’s custom for its new queen?” Kit asked Chelina suddenly.

She shook her head. “No. He has told me nothing more than that. Other than, of course, that you are a kind prince and that I shall want nothing more.”

“Then you have no idea of the gift you would receive when you are to become queen?”

She shook her head once more.

“You will be receiving lands. Those lands, you may do as you wish with them. They shall be under your power and jurisdiction.” Kit said. “These will include the ridges and the islands away from the mainland. Any product from there shall be under your direction. I will have no say in them.”

“Am I to believe these lands are valuable?”

“Yes.” He nodded at the bracelet on her wrist, similar in style as the one you had but with a different stone. “All the materials in your bracelet are taken from those mines. The gold comes from a now-abandoned shaft. The stone cannot be found anywhere else.”

Chelina touched the stone gingerly, looking down at it.

“Your uncle had been insistent that we sell those mines.” Kit told her. “Once we are married, you would have immediate control of them. Your uncle may impose his position as my father’s adviser to persuade you into selling them.”

The prince saw her look at him pointedly. “Your Royal Highness, I may not show it but I am confused as to your inquiry. I would appreciate a direct approach to your line of questioning.”

He took a deep breath before he pinned her with a grave look. “Are you scheming with your uncle?”

Her brows raised. “Scheming?” she asked, startled. “What for?”

She appeared to be genuinely surprised at his question.

“Do you truly not know what your uncle had done?” he asked as he peered into her face.

“I do not. Like I had said before, Your Royal Highness, I only tolerate my uncle. I do not know of his plans or anything at all for you to think I would be scheming with him.”

But Kit was still skeptical. She was, after all, kin to the Grand Duke, despite what she had said. The same Prussian blood ran in her veins.

“Are you telling me the truth?” he asked her rather bluntly.

She quirked her brows regally and Kit swore he saw a bit of the Zaragozan fire dance in her eyes. However, it did not frighten him. She may be a princess but her uncle had done a great offense against the kingdom. If there were people who should be afraid, it would be the nobleman and her, if he proved that she was in league with him.

“I would not lie to you.” She told him honestly.

“Can I trust you?”

“That would depend on you, do you not think, Your Royal Highness?” she asked as she rose. “Your questions are odd. Is this about your father?”

He watched her guardedly. “It has something to do with my father but more to do with your uncle.”

She stopped just before him, looking into his handsome face. “My uncle seems to be a problem for you,” she noted.

“Your uncle murdered my mother.”

She stepped back. In fear, Kit noted as he watched her royal façade break. He had not seen her composure crumble before but his statement seemed to have shaken the princess to her very core.

Her eyes widened in fright, and she brought a hand up to her mouth to cover her gasp.

“I beg your pardon?” she whispered shakily.

Kit cleared his throat, putting a halt at the onslaught of anger that came over him. “He poisoned my mother with plants. He has done the same with my father although he was not successful.” Kit paused before adding: “And I fear he has done something to my wife.”

“Your wife?” she echoed weakly before realization dawned on her. “Miss Y/N.”

He nodded seriously.

She frowned, utter confusion on her face. “If you are already married, why is my uncle planning to marry me to you?” she asked.

“I do not know but I have an inkling it had something to do with my mother’s sudden death.”

Her brows drew together as she looked at him. “Your Royal Highness, I—I didn’t know these were the circumstances of our betrothal.”

“Neither did I.” He cleared his throat. “I must tell you, Your Royal Highness, that the punishment for his deeds is death. There is no other penalty for something as violent as murder.”

She nodded mutely, dazedly. “His crimes are unpardonable. I couldn’t imagine any other… discipline fitting for what he had done.”

He let her ponder on his words for a while before he continued on the matter he was there for. “Y/N is missing. Do you know where she might be?”

She denied any knowledge of that, saying to him that she had not been anywhere else other than her room for breakfast and the sitting room for playing her guitar.

“Then I need your help, Princess.”

She nodded her head eagerly at him. “Si. Yes, of course. Anything you ask.”

“I need you to know where your uncle had kept Y/N. I fear he has something to do with her vanishing because she had saved my father’s life. Your questions must not make your uncle suspicious of you or else you shall be in peril.”

“Yes, yes. I will do my best to know where she is. I can give you my maid to search for her.” She offered.

“No, you must have her with you. I do not trust the Grand Duke’s actions even if he is your uncle.” Kit said. “When you have learnt of where she is, we convene in my father’s chambers. Your uncle is not allowed there. We shall be safe to talk of this matter inside.”

Kit turned to go but Chelina halted his steps.

“How is Louis? Does he know his friend is gone?” she asked him as he was about to open the door.

“Yes. He is determined to have her back, as am I.” He looked at her. “You need not worry for him, Princess. My cousin is very careful. He worries for you.”

She gave a small, soft smile at the mention of Louis before she looked at him remorsefully. “I am terribly sorry, Your Royal Highness. Had I known it was your mother’s death that sparked a betrothal between us, I would not have agreed.”

“He takes us for fools.” Kit said. “But not anymore. We shall put a stop to his nefarious ways.”

It was dark.

And silent.

You opened your eyes but you could not see a thing in the darkness . You had been used to the darkness, had been their constant companion in the nights when you traveled at sea. It often calmed you, along with the gentle rocking of the boat, but this darkness felt different. It was pitch-dark with no blanket of stars to comfort you.

You blinked but everything within your eyesight did not change. You blinked once more in an attempt to summon the light but it was all the same. You even brought your hands to your eyes to confirm that you did have opened it but it did not change the darkness you were enveloped in. You did not know if the darkness was blessed because your head still throbbed from where the Grand Duke pounced at you.

The Grand Duke!

You were not able to tell Kit of your findings because it was not Louis who had summoned for you in the library. Oh, how close you were to telling the prince of what you had discovered. The malicious man thwarted your plans as though he knew of it.

And he had. He knew you were on to him because you had asked for the emetic to save the king’s life. And now, you feared you’ve lost to the nobleman once more. That man must be stopped at all costs. You were determined to do it, despite your current predicament of being stuck in… wherever you were.

You groaned as you moved. You felt the uneven ground against your body, feeling shards of rocks and gravel against your exposed skin. You moved slowly to a sitting position, scraping your cheek and your hands against the jagged edges of rock as you pressed down to hoist yourself to your hands and knees.

Even with the renewed position, your vision remained the same. You swiped blindly at the dark space before you as you crawled. The ground felt sharp against your knees and it hurt you but you pushed on. The pain against your legs and palm were bearable. The throbbing in your head was not. You were nauseous from your movements.

Your fingers grazed on more jagged edges that were now before you instead of under you. You swiped your entire hand and felt a wall made from the same rocks as those you were kneeling on. You pressed your other palm against it and with all your strength, you pulled yourself until you were standing.

You groaned in pain and clutched the side of your body. It did not bleed but it felt much too tender for your liking, perhaps bruised from how you were dropped. You lost your footing at the pain of a broken ankle and accidentally kicked a piece of stone, sending it somewhere in the darkness. It was only then when you were made aware that your other foot had lost its shoe. The stones felt sharp against your bear sole, in addition to a possible bone fracture. The stone did not make much of an echo when you sent it flying and you realized wherever you were was small and confining, perhaps just enough space for your body.

Your head gave another painful throb and you slowly dropped to the rocky floor, cradling your head in your hands. There was wetness against the side of your head, on the same place where the nobleman’s fist made contact. You gingerly touched it, wincing as you did and brought your wet fingers against your nose. You sniffed and grimaced before tasting it, confirming your suspicion that the Grand Duke drew blood when he bludgeoned you with his fist.

Another drop of wetness came down on your cheek, this time different from the blood that was on your temples. It came from above you and it did not smell nor tasted of blood. Instead, it tasted of nothing. Water.

You turned your head skyward to see a small sliver of light, so high up above you, that you were positive it had been where the droplet of water had come down from. The light was hazy and gray and the water that dripped from it increased in speed and number

Rain, you thought with a panic.

In a matter of hours, wherever you were would be flooded if such heavy rains persisted. You would drown if you did not leave.

“H-h-help…” You rasped weakly. You scrambled painfully to your feet, and in your rush, your head spun. You staggered backward, back bumping against the rough wall, sharp shards puncturing the delicate cloth of your dress. Wherever the Grand Duke had dumped you, he did it with every intention to leave you to die.

"Help!” You tried once again. Your voice was rough and terrible in your throat but it did not matter to you. You would rather you lose your voice begging to be helped than lose your life. You needed to be alive to tell Kit what you had found about the Grand Duke and stop him. You needed to be alive to ensure the Grand Duke did not kill your husband as well.

“HELP! HELP ME PLEASE!”

From above, the storm intensified and drowned all your pleas.

Captain Thibault and Louis were conversing with the physician when Kit arrived in the study.

“I cannot find the book, Kit,” Louis said. “I’ve searched through all of your mother’s books on botany and herbology and plant medicine but the title Y/N mentioned was not there.”

The prince frowned. He had helped you return the book to the shelves a few weeks ago. He may not have remembered the creasing on the spine but he knew the title. His mother had been meaning to read the book before her death.

“Have you looked everywhere?” Kit asked his cousin.

“I was only confined in that section of the library. The Grand Duke was inside as well. He was reading on laws for your upcoming marriage.”

“He could have taken it,” he thought out loud. “I remember Y/N returning that book only to get more of the same subject from my mother’s collection. It couldn’t have been taken by anyone else other than him.”

“That would only be conjecture. We cannot condemn the man for lack of the evidence we were to get against him.” Thibault said.

Kit sighed. “Yes, you’re right. Has Abigail found the canister?”

Thibault produced the jar. “She found it under all of the logs used for kindling in her room.”

Louis donned his gloves and took the jar from the Captain, shaking its contents onto his palm. The purple flower petal was stark against the dull greens of the tea leaves.

“She immediately told the Housekeeper about this when she first found it,” the duke said as he stared at the unassuming petal on his palm. “It was why she had offered to label the tea leaves because she knew this petal did not belong in this jar.”

Kit looked at the culprit for his mother’s death and angered rose from deep within him. He was yet to know why the Grand Duke had killed his mother but whatever reason it was, he was firmly determined on having the man dead for his crimes.

“This is what killed your mother?” Captain Thibault asked.

Kit gave a grim nod.

“And your father was poisoned with the same tea? How would he be poisoned with the tea if this was in Miss Y/N’s room?”

“My father was poisoned with hemlock disguised as parsnip.” Kit said. He frowned at what the captain had speculated. His father had fared well since drinking your blend of tea. Before that, he had been consuming a blend suggested by the Grand Duke and he did indeed look sickly during those times.

Of course, he would be poisoning my father in the same fashion as he had poisoned my mother, he thought dourly.

But his father had been drinking that tea for quite a while and he had not exhibited any delirium like his mother. It couldn’t have been the very tea he drank because the captain was right, you had kept this canister in your chambers.

“Doctor,” Kit called for the physician. “Were you the physician who examined my mother on her deathbed?”

“No, Your Royal Highness. That physician had since retired.” the man replied.

“Do you know where he is now?”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness.” The man gave them the address. “I believe he retired because he came upon a great fortune. He would not tell where he had gotten it but he had urged me to take the position as the royal physician.”

Louis frowned. “Do you think it could be hush money?” The duke appeared to have the same idea as his cousin.

Kit’s face was set when he looked at him. “We need to visit the physician to confirm our suspicions. But first, we must go to the apothecary to see the ledger.”

“I will have the carriage ready,” Thibault said as he turned to leave.

“No. We will go by horse.” Kit ordered.

Thunder clapped from the outside, as if telling them that the storm was yet to pass.

“By horse? But there’s a storm!” Louis exclaimed.

“Horses are faster. We cannot have a broken wheel to slow us down.” Kit insisted. He nodded at the Captain as if to tell him to go.

Louis returned the tea leaves in the jar and discarded his gloves in the fire. He sighed regretfully as he watched it burn. “What a waste of perfectly good kid gloves. I bought those in Castile.”

Kit ignored his cousin, returning his attention to the physician once more. “My father told me he had been faring well for quite some time now. When have you noticed that change in him?”

“In the recent weeks, Your Royal Highness. His skin is less cool to the touch and his pulse beats at a regular pace, unlike before.”

The prince nodded. “Are these symptoms of foxglove poisoning?”

The man shook his head. “It would need to be accompanied by delirium and he should have told me of halos of the color yellow in his sight. The king never complained to me of those.”

He pulled out your letter again and read through it. “Could he be poisoned with another plant? Perhaps Aconitum napellus? Monkshood, is it?”

The man’s brow raised, then his eyes widened. “I believe so, Your Royal Highness, and we are lucky he is alive. There could be no other explanation for the numbness he felt in his mouth or the other symptoms I had seen in him. Although I did not think much of it because he had gotten better before his symptoms had gotten worse. Forgive me for not recognizing it earlier.”

Kit nodded. “How recent was it?”

The man sifted through his notebook. “Nearly three weeks, Your Royal Highness.”

You had been in the palace for about the same time as his father had been feeling better. Whether it had been you intention or not, you had cured his father from the Grand Duke’s poisoning simply by changing his blend of tea.

Kit thanked the doctor and left him with more instructions before he and Louis headed for the stables. The storm still raged on outside of the palace and it did not look like it would pass soon. The roads would be thick and slick with mud. The travel to the square would take twice longer because of the rains.

A loud clap of thunder sounded from the outside and Kit worried for your safety since you had not been found in the palace. He feared every passing moment you were not with him. The storms always raged on in the kingdom, sometimes going on for days with no stopping. They were notorious for the strength and devastation they wrought, from the flooded paddies to the destroyed houses. It flooded every dip and divot they could fill and washed anything that stood in its way.

He hoped the nobleman kept you inside the palace. If you had been caught in the torrential downpour with no shelter, Kit could not imagine how drenched and cold you would be. One more second not finding you was one second closer to your death.

He shuddered at the idea and shunned it from his mind. No. He would not think you dead. You were alive. You had to be alive. You were to be his princess, his queen.

“Your Royal Highness,” Kit heard the Grand Duke call.

The prince’s stomach sunk in nervousness. He and his cousin had taken extra care in their actions. Was the Grand Duke to stop them from finding more evidence against him? Was he to stop them from finding you? But then, Kit was not at fault and therefore should not have been fearful. It was the Grand Duke and he should be very afraid of what was to come for him once Kit gathered all there was to indict him.

He cleared his throat before turning to the man. He put on an air of royal arrogance as he addressed him. “Grand Duke.”

“There are some issues that require your father’s attention. I had tried going to his chambers but the guards would not allow me entrance.” The man advanced towards him, holding in his hands business papers not unlike the ones Kit had left on his desk.

“My father is resting, Your Grace.”

“Yes, but these papers—”

“Sir, if they do not need immediate attention, I will see to them when I return. Do not disturb my father, even with matters of the state.” Kit said, his tone hardy. “Leave them on my desk if you cannot deal with those matters.”

He bowed. Kit noticed that it was stiff and almost against his will. “Your Royal Highness.”

“Perchance, have you seen Miss Y/N? I haven’t seen her yet.” Louis suddenly asked.

Kit wanted to curse at his cousin for his question. It was a direct way of knowing where you were but he did not appreciate the frank way it was asked, especially since they were looking for you without his knowledge.

Instead of talking, he fisted his hand and hid it from the nobleman’s view. He gave the Grand Duke a long, level look, watching for any signs on the man’s face that would betray his knowing of your whereabouts.

The nobleman only quirked a brow at the duke’s address. He looked apathetic to the question.

“I do not know, Your Grace. I had not seen her since dinner and I have no need to.” He turned to Kit, imploring at him to heed his words. “Her actions towards the king must not go unpunished.” He said rather pompously.

“Her actions?” Kit repeated, voice quiet but angry. “She saved my father’s life.”

“She shoved her hand down his throat. To touch the king without his permission is a sin.”

Kit stepped towards the nobleman and not one more, for Louis held him back. “I believe my father would pardon her action once he awakes.” He hissed between his teeth.

“It would not do well for her to be free, Your Royal Highness.” The Grand Duke went on. “She has committed a crime and she must be punished accordingly.”

A barrage of accusations sailed through Kit’s mind but he did not voice any of them. They were still in pursuit of all of the evidence you had written of—still in pursuit of you—and if the Grand Duke were to know of them, it would have made all your efforts futile. So Kit held back the condemnation he wished to hurl at the man but he did not withhold the vitriol that dripped from his tone.

“I assure you, Your Grace, that all crimes committed by any man will not go unpunished.” He gave a stern look at the nobleman.

That seemed to satisfy the man because he bowed again, this time without his prior reluctance. “Very good, Your Royal Highness.”

Kit did not miss the patronizing tone in the man’s words but he did not comment on that. Instead, he went on ahead to the stables. In there, he found Thibault awaiting them with their horses prepared.

Thibault passed them coats bearing the insignia of the kingdom. “These will disguise you from the Grand Duke and any of his accomplices. I had ordered two guards to accompany you on your trip. You do not have to worry of where their loyalties lie; they are loyal to the crown and kingdom. I’ve also tasked Abigail in unmasking any other servant involved, in addition to our own investigation.”

Louis donned the coat and mounted his horse. “Let us hope you will have them in your custody when we return, Captain.”

Kit only gave his friend a stiff nod and kicked his heel against the horse’s flank, sending the horse galloping. He rode in the storm silently but with a determination unlike anything he had experienced before .

His goal for the moment was singular: talk to the apothecary and ask for his ledger. Once it had been procured, he would then go and find the last physician and confirm their suspicion of his involvement with the queen’s death. Surely, no one would just come to be with great fortune. And so sudden a luck.

The Grand Duke had established himself to be a rich man. His apartments were in the palace and since his arrival, he had steadily decorated it with more and more opulence. The gaudy display was at odds with the rest of the palace and was offending to the peasants who were suffering the moment he assumed his position as the king’s advisor. If the man had money to decorate his apartments, then he surely had enough to spare to pay hush money to his accomplices.

The storm grew in intensity as he neared the square. There were no merchants dotting the streets and the other stores had closed their doors. If the apothecary was not open, Kit would not know how to find the man.

He looked at the closed stores, frowning as he recalled where the apothecary had been. You had written that it was situated opposite of the Magistrate and while Kit had been sure he was at the right place, he was yet to see the sign for the chemist. The downpour did not help with the visibility.

Kit rode on down the aisle of shops. There was a light that flickered weakly through the window, illuminating the signage of the apothecary. Kit nodded to his cousin and dismounted, heading in. Bells jingled when Kit opened the door to the apothecary’s small store and he was assaulted with various scents of medicinal herbs upon his entrance.

“It smells like my mother’s perfume,” Louis murmured beside his cousin. “I always thought some of her perfumes smelt noxious. Perhaps she has gotten it from apothecaries and not at a perfumery.”

Kit gave his cousin a small smile in agreement of his father’s sister’s perfume.

“Gentlemen, good day,” called the elderly man behind the table. Before him were concoctions of all sorts, including a glass jar of foxglove petals that looked similar to the ones from his mother’s tea tin. “How may I help you?”

Kit removed his hat and passed it to one of the guards. The chemist immediately bowed in respect at the sight of the prince.

“Your Royal Highness. How may I be of service to you?” the man asked.

“Sir, I have a need of your ledger. There are records we wish to see.” Kit told him.

“Of course, Your Royal Highness.” The chemist moved to the other side of his store, the prince following along. “Is there a particular record you are in search for?”

“May we look for it ourselves, sir?” Louis suggested as he neared the counter. “There are three records we wish to see and we would not want to take up your time in doing so.”

“Of course, Your Grace. How else may I be of assistance to you?” The man pushed the leatherbound book to Louis and looked at the cousins expectantly.

“There is a need for you to keep this a secret, sir. It is a rather delicate issue we are looking at. I would appreciate your permission to allow the guards to take charge of your front and back doors so as to not allow the people to come in or out.” The duke told the man, looking at him pointedly.

There was a panicked look upon the chemist’s face, which Louis promptly assured with: “We are not keeping you hostage, sir,” he stated. “But we insist on your participation on the matter.”

Kit looked over at his cousin, a brow raised and his mouth quirked in amusement. His cousin rarely used a commanding tone when dealing with matters, seeing as he was always charismatic, but when he did use it, people knew he tolerated no insolence from them.

The man nodded at the cousins. “Yes, Your Grace. Of course.”

Kit took out your letter from his pocket. “She told us to look for the May of last year. It should say he purchased some form of service.”

Louis flipped to the year past, looking for the entry you had told them of. True enough, there was the Grand Duke’s name, in the month you had told them when he had a need for the service of the apothecary.

“We have it,” Louis said. He pointed at the entry to Kit, who then looked up from the letter and to the book. “It does say service.”

Kit turned to the chemist, who now leaned over to see the entry for himself. “Sir, do you remember the kind of service the Grand Duke had purchased?”

The man frowned as the thought, drawing the book to him and ran his hand on the entry. “It has been more than a year since this entry. I cannot recall correctly what kind they were but he had asked me to dry herbs for him.”

“Could it be foxglove?” The duke asked. “What is it, cousin? Di—Digi—?”

“Digitalis purpurea?” Kit supplied.

The man raised a whitened brow in recollection. “Why, yes. I believe it is that and monkshood as well. I found it unusual that he asked me to dry monkshood but I did not question my customers. Their business is theirs alone.”

“Does it take long for you to do this kind of service?” Louis asked as his eyes drifted on the letter in Kit’s hands.

“There were a number of storms and rains that had passed by the kingdom when the Grand Duke had asked of that. It had taken me nearly a month to accomplish the task because of it. The humidity affects the drying process.”

The prince’s brow was raised as he looked at his cousin. “The Grand Duke asked for service at the end of May. If it took a month, it would have been ready by the first week of July, with enough time for him to plan my mother’s death.” He told his cousin in a hushed voice.

Louis nodded. “The man gave your mother those to plant in the gardens, did he not? Perhaps he had taken some and brought them here for the apothecary to dry.”

It was a plausible idea that Kit wanted to greatly believe.

“Forgive me, but did you say Y/N?” the man asked them cautiously.

Kit looked at the chemist sharply. “Yes. Have you seen her?” he asked.

His heart gave a start in his chest. The apothecary’s simple inquiry gave hope in the prince. You were missing because of this investigation. Perhaps the man had seen you pass by the shop. Kit would have accepted anything at all the man would have said of where you were.

But unfortunately, and much to Kit’s disappointment, the man replied that he had only seen you before. “I remember her only because she had asked of antidotes for various kinds of poisoning. I even commented that she had been around too many people who were poisoned.”

Louis gave a small sarcastic snort at the coincidence of the man’s words. “I suppose you’re not wrong,” he murmured.

“What did she ask of?” Kit questioned.

“She wanted to know how to counteract the effects of Digitalis on the body. She bought a vial of belladonna since that is what is used by physicians for patients poisoned by foxglove.”

“Was that all?”

“I also told her there is no cure for monkshood so there was nothing for me to sell her for that. I believe she bought an emetic of zinc for hemlock poisoning.”

Kit nodded. “Yes, she did.”

“She also asked of the services I offer. I told her that I not only prepare antidotes but I also dry plants and herbs. She seemed particularly interested in the poisonous herbs and their antidotes.”

Louis nodded. “You were helpful in that regard, sir. Your answers to her questions have helped us greatly.”

The prince returned to your letter and read on the second date you had told them. “June of this year, if you please, cousin.”

The duke flipped forward to the current year and looked for the month of June. When he had, he looked for the name and, like before, he found the entry you had written of. Beside the Grand Duke’s name was a record of his purchase for Digitalis.

“Digitalis, like she had said.” Louis said albeit no surprise in his tone.

Kit told him of the last of the Grand Duke’s purchases. “You would find hers as well, for the emetics.”

And sure enough, Louis found both records. He looked at his cousin and sighed. “The pieces of evidence are conclusive, cousin. Even without the herbology book, this would be enough to accuse the Grand Duke of his crimes. The hemlock alone would convince the Magistrate that what had happened to your father was because of his doing.”

Kit exhaled loudly, keeping your letter in his pocket. “I am not satisfied, cousin. I think we would need more. We need the former royal physician to give a testimony.”

“Against the man who gave him his riches?” Louis asked, skeptical. “That doctor was loyal to the Grand Duke. I doubt he would even say anything now.”

“He would start talking if it would reduce his sentence. He is, after all, an accomplice to my mother’s murder. His penalty is already death. But if he gives a testimony against the Grand Duke, then he can haggle for imprisonment, albeit a long one.”

The duke still looked unsure. “Would that convince him?”

“If he knows what is moral and just, it should.”

Louis gave him a wry look, still unconvinced. “I doubt the man would suddenly develop a conscience after receiving his ill-gotten wealth.”

“Well, we have to try, don’t we?” Kit snarled. He immediately apologized, sighing as he did. “Forgive me. I am trying to be optimistic even if everything seems bleak to me.”

The duke patted his cousin on the shoulder. “Forgive me too, cousin. I am just preparing you for the worst, even though it pains me to think of its possibility.”

Kit nodded at his cousin before turning to the chemist. The man had been helpful but he had also sold to the Grand Duke the materials he needed to commit his crime. While he did not look dangerous, Kit knew better than to let the man go free. After all, he was vital to the investigation.

“Sir, there are questions I need to ask you and you must answer them as truthful as you can.” Kit commanded in a tone that brook no argument from the man.

The apothecary nodded readily. “Of course, Your Royal Highness.”

“Have you any idea of where the Grand Duke used his purchases?”

“No, Your Royal Highness. I was suspicious of him but I did not ask questions. It did not go well for me when I had done it to my other customers.”

“Has he confided in you of any of his plans?”

“No, Your Royal Highness.”

“And he has paid you money for your silence about his purchases?”

“No, Your Royal Highness.”

Kit nodded when he saw that the man spoke the truth and saw his cousin nod in agreement at him.

“Good. Come with us. There is one more place we are to go before we return to the palace.” Kit said.

Kit rode ahead with his cousin to the address the current royal physician had given, the ledger safely kept in his horse’s satchel. The storm had started once more, this time more violently than before. Thunder clapped and lightning flashed across the sky, lighting it as though it was a clear summer day. He hoped against hope his cousin’s men had found you, or that at least you were away from the devastating storm.

They arrived at the place, finding the house looking inconspicuous for someone who seemed to have been paid quite a boon for their treacherous act. Kit dismounted his horse and banged heavily against the door. Louis stayed behind his cousin, hand on the hilt of the sword on his side in the instance that the man was violent.

The door swung open, revealing a pudgy man who somehow resembled the Grand Duke. “Yes? What do you want?” He spat, eyeing the prince with disdain.

“Were you the former royal physician?” Kit asked. He was yet to remove his hat and coat, finding it better not to reveal himself as the prince lest the man run at the sight of him.

“Who asked?”

“I did,” Kit said.

“Listen here, boy, I did not call for Royal Guards. I have no need of you nor will I answer you. You best be on your way before you catch a cold in the rain.” He moved to close the door.

Kit held out a hand against it, effectively stopping the wooden door. He knew he would be met with resistance but he did not expect the man to behave the same way as the Grand Duke would. Of course, people with the same morals would band together, Kit thought to himself wryly.

He pushed on the door, opening it some more until he entered the threshold of the man’s place. While it had looked unassuming on the outside, the inside was far grander than it was out. New-looking furnishings, shiny fixtures, and a bearskin rug adorned the place. It looked too opulent for a man who had been a mere royal physician.

“While I appreciate your concern,” Kit said in a hard tone as he barged in the man’s house. “I would much appreciate it if you had answered my question.”

He gave a short mocking chuckle, the sound akin to someone choking and laughing at the same time. “I will not answer a question I don’t want to answer!”

“I do not need you to want it. I am commanding you to.” Kit said in his most princely of tones.

The man laughed once more. “You?” He said with a chortle. “Commanding me? Who are you, the prince? Remember your station, boy.” The man shook his head in disbelief, laughing as he did so.

Kit took off his hat, revealing himself to the former physician. It effectively shut the man, who then bowed promptly.

“Y-Your Royal Highness!” He exclaimed in surprise, maintaining his half-body bow. “F-Forgive me! I did not know it was you under the Royal Guard’s uniform!”

Kit chose to ignore the man’s unmeant apologies, asking him his previous question instead. “Are you the former royal physician?”

He rose on shaking knees. His face had turned into an unsightly shade of red and he did not look into the prince’s eyes as he answered: “Yes, Your Royal Highness. I was before the Grand Duke discharged—”

“Discharged? Or were you paid a hefty sum by the man to cover his murder of the queen?” Louis asked as he stood beside his cousin.

The man bristled. “I-I do not know what—” Sweat trickled down the side of his forehead. His eyes moved from left to right, flighty, looking anywhere but the prince and the duke.

“Take care of your next words, sir, or they may be your last.” Kit threatened. “Now, you will cooperate and answer our questions with as much honesty as you can.”

“Your Royal Highness—”

“I did not give you permission to question my demands!” Kit boomed at the man.

The former physician swallowed and nodded tightly. “Y-Yes, Your Royal Highness,” he stammered in fear.

“Did the Grand Duke pay you to prevent you from speaking of what you had found in the queen?” Kit asked.

The man trembled as he looked at the prince. Then, he shook his head a little too wildly.

The gall of him! Kit thought with anger. The truth was already clear to them, clear as the facts that you had presented in your letter. It was more than serendipitous for him to come to great fortune after the event of the queen’s death. He was paid for it and Kit would resort to anything just to prove his intuition correct.

And so, he lied. All for the sake of finding out the truth.

“Deny it all you want, sir, but the Grand Duke has spoken,” Kit spat through his teeth.

He saw his cousin turn to him sharply. Kit only hardened his jaw and the duke nodded, affirming his involvement in Kit’s lies.

“He has told us he had paid you to keep silent of his actions towards the queen.” Kit continued, walking to the man. “He has told us of your involvement in deliberately not treating my mother’s being poisoned with foxglove.”

The former physician looked at Kit with fear in his eyes. “Your Royal Highness—” The man started to sweat profusely.

“You cannot deny it anymore. The Grand Duke named you his co-conspirator.” Louis said. “Why did you do it?”

“Was the money he paid you worth the pain you brought to my father and I and the kingdom?” Kit asked, crowding over the man as he advanced towards him. “Was it worth the silverware on your table or the fur on your shoulders? Was it worth the life you had taken from us? Is it going to be worth yours?”

The man dropped on his knees, head to Kit’s feet as he groveled. “Your Royal Highness, forgive me! Forgive me! The Grand Duke promised me riches and I was blinded by them!”

Kit’s jaw hardened and he refused to look at the man who had just confessed his involvement in his mother’s death.

“Forgive me, Your Royal Highness! I should have spoken when I had learned what had happened to the queen!” The man cried piteously.

But Kit did not take pity. Instead, he hauled the man to his feet and passed him to the guards who had arrived. The man did not fight his arrest; he only kept his head down, embarrassed and scared of what the prince might do to him.

“We will bring him with us.” Kit said. “Do not let him out of your sight.”

Kit rode back to the palace, more determined now that he had hefty evidence against the nobleman. With the man’s presence, the Grand Duke would be properly convicted of his crimes. If Thibault had found the footman and the kitchen staff involved in adding the hemlock to his father’s meal, the nobleman would be sure to pay for his crimes.

He and his cousin entered the king’s chambers, finding the princess talking with the Captain of the guards. His father was still asleep but the doctor had told him that he had awoke while Kit was away and had asked for water to drink, before returning to sleep. There were no remaining symptoms of hemlock poisoning in him, the physician said, which made Kit heave out a sigh of relief.

“We have the ledger and the apothecary with us,” Kit said to Thibault. “As well as the former royal physician who had looked at my mother before she died.”

Louis looked up from his missive. “My men are still searching for her, cousin. They had just finished in the nearby villages. I’ve instructed them to go farther.”

Kit nodded his thanks at his cousin. “Had there been any progress?” he asked of the princess.

“My uncle denies any knowledge on where she is. I fear he is becoming suspicious of my questions so I stopped my inquiries.” Chelina said as her eyes swept to the duke beside him. She gave a small gasp at his state. “You will catch your death in your drenched clothes, Louis. Sit by the fire and I will have my maid bring you soup to warm you.”

Kit saw the soft smile on his cousin’s face and a pang of heartache and jealousy speared through him. While he found every single, strong evidence against the Grand Duke, he was yet to find you.

“I have the footman in my custody and the Cook as well. Abigail has unearthed one of the maids to be the Grand Duke’s paramour and we have detained her. We are unsure of her involvement but we will find out.”

“Good. You can include the former royal physician. He had confessed that the Grand Duke had paid him a large sum for his silence.” The prince said. “Keep the other accomplices away from one another. I do not want them interacting should they plot against us.”

Thibault bowed. “All that is left is the Grand Duke.”

He nodded grimly. “Yes. I will deal with him.”

“I will have guards come with you when you confront the Grand Duke—”

“No. Have them look for Y/N. My cousin’s men may be capable but they are few in numbers. Send them posthaste.”

“Of course.” Thibault bowed once again before he left to deliver his orders.

“Your Royal Highness,” he heard Chelina call for him. He turned to the princess, watched as she smiled tentatively at the sight of him.

“You may call me Kit, Princess,” he told her.

“Then you may call me Chelina.” She gestured to his cousin, who now sat by the warmth of the fire, cradling a bowl of soup. “You must get out of your drenched clothes as well. There is soup and bread to fill your stomach.”

“I cannot waste time—”

“You are not wasting your time if you are to rest. You cannot confront my uncle if you are sickly and hungry. I suggest you heed my advice and eat with your cousin by the fireplace. I shall have your valet fetch your dry clothes.”

She looked very determined in her quest for him to take rest. He nodded singularly and sat opposite his cousin. Louis heartily slurped at his soup, having already changed out of his wet clothes.

“Trust that we will find her, cousin.” Louis said consolingly.

“I know we will,” Kit said fiercely. “I just want to find her alive. I do not think I can bear to survive without her."

The duke patted his cousin’s knee. “And she will be. Trust, Kit. Trust in her.”

He nodded. Chelina passed him a bowl of soup and a piece of bread before taking her place on the seat beside his cousin. Kit could only watch the beautiful picture they made. The tragedy brought them together, however ironic it was. He knew his cousin to be a devoted sort of man; a complete contrast to his reputation of being a sort of a lecher, and he saw that in the way he regarded the Princess Chelina. Like Kit, he knew his cousin would give up his life for the one he loved.

“Have some soup, cousin. It will warm your bones.” Louis urged.

Kit brought the spoon to his lips absently, not at all hungry for anything. His mind was still busy with thoughts of the whole kingdom. While you were his priority, he had a duty as the prince—and now de facto king while his father was recuperating—of the kingdom. He had businesses to oversee, new relationships to forge with every trade, and villages and communities to have repaired after the devastation the storm had wrought. His father and his mother had been more than efficient in their duties, despite the staggering amount they were faced with daily. While he had shared his father’s load since the death of his mother, he was still amazed at the number of issues they dealt with.

But his father was asleep and the man the king considered to be his adviser was useless. Kit only had himself to trust with the job of running the kingdom. He had been taught how to be a king since he had been a child. Everything, all that he had learned and was still learning, all of it came down to the very moment he was now at. This was his future as the king. This was who he was born to be.

“Will you detain my uncle?” Chelina asked after a while.

Kit looked from his still-full bowl and nodded. “I must. I cannot have him wreaking havoc in the palace.”

She nodded in understanding. “There is very little I can help you with him but I shall do what I can to assist you.”

“Chelina—” His cousin started to protest.

She only touched his cheek, smiling tenderly at him. “Louis, mi corazon, I refuse to sit down and watch when I know I can help. He is my uncle. I am one of the people who he would think twice to hurt.”

“He will still think twice and hurt.” Louis replied rather petulantly. “I do not think it beyond him to do so.”

“And that will be his mistake because you would be there to fight him before he does something to me.” She let go of his face and returned her attention to Kit. “He will not think me suspicious if I do not ask about Miss Y/N’s whereabouts.”

“It will be dangerous for you,” Kit said, to which his cousin readily agreed. “I would not want to put you in harm’s way.”

“He trusts me enough not to question my involvement with you. He thinks me stupid for not knowing his motive for our marriage.” Chelina said. “I will not be in any harm if I do not show him that I have knowledge of what he has done.”

“Louis,” the prince implored. He would not want his cousin to lose the love of his life as well.

“I do not think she will back down however we ask her to,” Louis replied. “We will not let you near him but we shall ask for your help when we need it.”

“Agreed.” Kit nodded.

The princess quirked a brow at the cousins. “You do not think me capable—”

“We know you are but I would not want my cousin to suffer what I am suffering now.” The prince told her. “I cannot fathom the despair he would feel if the Grand Duke did something to you.”

He watched the fire quietly, noting of the way they looked at him after his words. He spoke the truth. Louis, however jolly he was, felt deeply and the despair he would feel at the loss of the Princess Chelina was incomprehensible. He only worried for his cousin, in the same way that his cousin worried for him.

He could not find it in himself to finish his soup and so he set it aside. He stood, heading for the door when his cousin called for his attention.

“Cousin. You did not finish your soup.” Louis called. “Where are you going?”

“To the Grand Duke.” He went out of his father’s chambers, ignoring the protests from his cousin and his betrothed.

He walked purposefully to the study, thoughts only on the satisfaction it would bring him to have the man in the dungeons for his sins. The man ought to rot in jail if he would deny his sins. He ought to not see the light of day for all that he has done. Kit swore to himself and to everyone the man had wronged that he would do anything in his power to make the Grand Duke suffer.

He barged in the Great Study, barreling towards the nobleman with the intent of scaring him. Louis was not present to school him on propriety. He could do as he pleased with the man who had put him through this great suffering.

The Grand Duke was surprised at his entrance and Kit took that moment to haul the man to his feet by the lapels of his coat. He had never stood this close to the man before and now that he had, he saw all the evil and malice in his eyes. The nobleman was momentarily startled but his face transformed into that of bored anticipation. This was a man who feared and regretted nothing. He was evil personified.

Kit thought he had never been so repulsed by someone so despicable.

“Ah,” he breathed with an arrogant smirk. “When my niece asked me for that commoner’s whereabouts, I had my suspicions of you finding out the truth. I did not realize it would take you a while to do so.”

Kit’s knuckles whitened at how hard he fisted the man’s coat. The anger that erupted from him was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

“Why did you kill my mother!” he asked the man, shouting as much as he can so the palace could hear of what he had done. “Why did you do it!”

The Grand Duke took one look at the prince’s face before he let out a loud, offending laugh.

He’s deluded! Kit thought angrily and shook him hard, enough for the man’s head to loll side to side. Still, he did not quell his maniacal laughter.

“Why did you do it!” he asked once again. “Answer me, damn you!”

“Because I can, boy! Because she was standing in my way!” The Grand Duke spat at the prince’s face. There was a crazed gleam in his eyes as he looked at the young man before him. “She stood in the riches that I wanted to for myself!”

“Riches? All you wanted were riches and you killed my mother for it?” Kit asked in disbelief. He had expected this motive from man but to hear him admit it only hurt him.

“What else could I want from your small, pathetic kingdom?” He sneered. “You thought yourself glorious but you are anything but. You are only a small kingdom amongst great states. You have riches you do not deserve—”

“And you do?” The prince spat. “You think yourself entitled to the riches of a country you do not belong in? I thought you ambitious before but now, I think you stupid.”

That offended the man. Kit saw the change in the gleam in the Grand Duke’s eyes at his words, at the way his hands almost found purchase on the prince’s neck if he had not been thrown back to his seat. He drew his sword out and against the nobleman’s neck, effectively stopping him from any further attacks.

“Move and I will plunge this through you without a second thought,” Kit threatened.

“You do not have it in you, boy,” he said with a scoff.

Kit pierced the nobleman’s skin, letting a droplet of blood trickle from where he punctured. “Do not take my threats lightly, sir. You forget I had been in war for years.”

He only looked impressed. There was no fear in the man at all. “Then I am mistaken.”

Kit did not withdraw his sword.

“Tell me,” the Grand Duke said nonchalantly, as if they were conversing over tea. “How did you find out about your mother’s murder? Surely you could not have done it on your own. It had been a year and it is only now that you are threatening me.”

“Y/N investigated on you when she found foxglove in my mother’s tea leaves.” Kit told him and pushed the sword deeper into the man’s neck.

“Ah. She told me she had no idea of it.” He watched the prince closely, a smirk appearing on his face. “She is smart, is she not? Would have made a worthy queen to this pitiful, little kingdom of yours, if only I hadn’t brought her away.” He goaded the prince.

A muscle jumped in Kit’s jaw at the man’s admission of knowing about your disappearance.

More blood trickled from the man’s neck at the pressure Kit exerted with his sword. “Where is she? Where is my wife?” he demanded.

“You think I would make it easy for you to find her?” The Grand Duke asked and chuckled evilly. “Oh, Your Royal Highness, it is like you do not know me at all.” He grinned maniacally.

Kit would have slashed his sword across the Grand Duke’s neck if it weren’t for his cousin, who stopped him before he brought the sword down.

“Stop—Stop! Kit!” Louis said as he embraced his cousin to prevent him from mutilating the Grand Duke. Kit did not fight him but he seethed as he watched the nobleman regard him with a challenging look upon his face.

Guards grabbed at the nobleman and hoisted him from his seat. They kept his hands in cuffs before they pulled him away from the prince.

“You must make haste, Your Royal Highness. She has been gone for nearly a day,” the Grand Duke called out. Even as he was captured, his tone held no regret. He enjoyed this, the bastard.

“In this storm, she would not survive.” He looked over his shoulder with wicked grin. “That is, if she’s not dead already.”

The rains were unrelenting above you.

The little hole where the Grand Duke had left you in had grown colder from the winds that swirled with the storm. You shivered to keep yourself warm. The small sliver of light had vanished, in its place was the bleakness of the day—or was it night? You could not tell what time it was, or how long you had been left there. All you were aware of was how cold you had become and that the waters were rising.

The sliver had become a waterspout and from it flowed the rainwater into your hole. It filled the entirety of the floor, the water nearly halfway to your calves now. With the way the rain above you continued to pour, you knew you needed to escape the hole before the waters engulf you.

You groped around you blindly, swiping your hands before you as you made sense of the place. You had deduced it was cylindrical in shape, with enough space for you to move at least five paces from one jagged wall to another. It was tall enough, considering the light you had seen earlier came from a very small hole. It seemed to you that it was nearly as tall as the mast in one of the ships you had travelled in. You hoped it was shorter.

You heard a loud crack of thunder from above. In your frenzied state of mind, you rushed to the other side and slammed your body against more jagged stones. You cried out in pain and collapsed on the rocky floor, hitting your knees against them and splashing water around you. You let out another loud howl as you clutched your knee that you were sure was bleeding from the impact. The pain from your whole left leg was like fire, from your thighs where it collided against the stone wall to your knee which had slammed against the jagged floor down to your ankle, which had grown twice it size since you had awoken. You had started to become feverish as well from being drenched in the rain.

It was useless to call out for help. The winds were too strong and the rain too loud for anyone to hear any of your cries. You had to help yourself. The only way for you to escape was up, through the small hole where the water flowed.

With determination, you rose to your feet and felt around the wall for any jutting rock you could clutch on to. You did the same with your other hand and your better foot and when you found stones that could handle your weight, you hoisted yourself up, mindful of the aches in your body. You needed all the strength you could gather. You managed slowly in your weakened state—having only had soup for dinner and nothing else—taking only one step at a time. You never had reason to scale a wall, as it was improper for ladies to do so. But you needed to survive. You could dash impropriety for all you care. What mattered was returning to Kit and stopping the Grand Duke from terrorizing the kingdom.

It was difficult for you to scale the wall with your broken ankle and in your drenched dress, but you were somehow able to rise from the ground. The storm raged on above you and another cracking sound echoed in your hole. You shut your eyes tight, breathing deeply so your fear and pain would ebb away. You shivered from the cold and the terror but you held strong. You had to get out. You needed to get out.

You took slow steps upward, trying every stone your hand touched to see if it would carry your weight. Your body protested at the added weight of the water. Your limbs shook with every effort.

You looked up to where the water had poured and with every power you had about you, you pushed yourself upwards. You had no idea how far up you had come but you trudged on with all of your strength.

The sky broke and light filled your little hole. The strike of lightning blinded you, forcing you to take your hands off of the rocks to cover your eyes. You felt yourself fall backwards to the floor beneath you.

A dull but sickening thud, along with a splash, sounded upon your impact to the ground.

She had a way of seeing the beauty in others.

The Princess Diaries (2001)

Is that chocolate?

The Accidental Princess (Part 11)

Prince Kit x Reader

Synopsis: A contract has been found after twenty years, bearing your name and the Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Synopsis: Kit does all that he could to find you

Word Count: 13.3k words

Warnings: angst, violence, mentions of murder, period-typical misogyny, poorly translated German, if I miss out on anything lmk

A/N: Hiya! Long time no update! So, I'm very very sorry it took me this long to write it. And I'm also sorry that I said it would be one large chapter but as I'm looking into it, it felt like a lot was happening to just have it in part. So, here is 11. There would be a 12 and an Epilogue (let us hope I stick to that the next time I update). As per usual, I love hearing your thoughts. They fuel me to write more! Your comments, suggestions, requests (and reblogs) are so very much welcome! Not beta'd, mistakes are mine. Here is Part 11!

Main Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Epilogue

“Did it help?” Louis asked as he handed his cousin a goblet of wine. “When you threatened him?”

Kit sat by the fireplace in his father’s room once more. He drank the wine he was given, prolonging his reply to his cousin’s question because he would not give him a satisfactory answer.

It did not help him at all. He thought that if he were to threaten the man with death, he would spew all his knowledge of what he had done. Instead, the man took pleasure in watching his outburst and only inflamed it with insults of him and you. He would not tell him of where you were, only goaded him of the possibility of your demise if he did not find you soon.

The nobleman was the devil incarnate.

He killed the benevolent queen to gain riches of a kingdom that was not his, killed his mother just because he could. And he praised you for uncovering his plot but did not disclose where he had kept you. The man only held contempt for the two women in Kit’s life and he took great joy in eliminating them to seat a woman from his life to be the queen of the kingdom. Kit had to remind himself that Chelina had not known any of her uncle’s plans, and therefore was not at fault for anything that had happened.

“No.” Kit replied in a gravelly voice. “It did not. It only made me angrier at him.”

Louis sighed, taking a seat before his cousin. “But you held back as much as you could, cousin.”

“If you had not been there, I would have killed him.” He watched as the flames danced in the fireplace. The way it flickered mimicked the cacophony of the rain outside, swaying here and there with no definite direction nor rhythm. It shadowed the turmoil in the prince. The flames, he could douse. The tumult inside him, he cannot.

“And I would remain as clueless as I am now as to where Y/N is.” Kit took his eyes off the fire and looked at his cousin. “Thank you for stopping me, Louis.”

“Sometimes I think I was born to keep your head level, cousin,” he said jollily as he sat back on his seat.

Kit felt himself smile weakly at his cousin’s jape.

“You must rest,” Louis insisted after a while of silence. “Chelina would not hear of me going out to investigate without proper sleep. I feel she would want you to do the same thing.”

He shook his head. “I cannot sit by while she is out there in the storm. I need to find her.”

“Kit, it is nearly midnight. I do not think you would be able to see anything with the darkness and the storm.” Louis told him, turning towards the window and his cousin followed his action. The trees swayed violently, fat raindrops battered against the window. The storm rattled the glass as it grew in intensity by the minute. The whole room shook when new thunder roared after a crack of lightning lit the gloomy sky.

Kit had never feared the storm more than he had at that moment.

“So would she.” Kit insisted.

“My men and yours are already looking for her.”

“It is not enough.”

“I know it isn’t but it is the best we have at the moment.”

“Not if I join them.”

“Kit. Cousin.” Louis sighed. “I myself would have gone out there, even in rougher conditions, to help find her but I do not think I would be of any help while I am tired. I would only slow down the people looking for her.”

He knew his cousin was right. Kit was not fit to search for you, especially now that he felt the start of his hunger and fatigue. While he did not want you to wait, he needed to rest his body so he may be better prepared to join the party in search for you.

“Get out of your wet clothes, cousin. A warm bath will do you good.”

Kit heeded his cousin’s advice without any further arguments and took a bath in his chambers. The warm water cooled his chilled bones but it did not assuage the coldness he felt with you being gone still. He longed to have you in his arms, enveloped in his embrace as he promised to never let harm come your way. He wanted to spare you from all the evils in the world. He would keep you with him so he may defend you from anything that would hurt you.

If only he found you.

Kit rested his head against the edge of the tub, looking at the ceiling as he thought of the last time you had been with him. He should have prolonged the kiss, should not have minded Abigail’s presence and continued his sweet ministrations to your lips—and more, if you had been as enthused with the idea of it as he was—in the carriage as you were heading home. If he hadn’t brought you to the Great Study, he would not have seen the heartbreak in your eyes at his father’s news of the nullification of your marriage. It was the last thing he had seen before you left him to go to the Grand Duke. He would not want that to be his final memory of you.

He stayed in his bath for as long as he could, until the water had gone equally cold as his room. He could not move, would not move because if he had, he would have scoured the whole kingdom for you. To search for you was the only thing he was to do; the Grand Duke was in custody and would not cause any further harm, his father was recuperating well, and all pieces of evidence were with Thibault, where he would arrange them to make the case against the nobleman more compelling.

When he returned to his father’s chambers, he found his cousin poring over paperwork at the long table. Princess Chelina sat next to him, equally busy with writing her own missive.

“I will be in the study, cousin,” Kit told Louis, who had looked up. “There are some businesses I must be getting back to.”

“Of course. We will keep watch of my uncle.” Louis nodded.

“Do not forget to rest, Kit. You must keep your health if you wish join the search for your wife.” Chelina told him.

Kit thanked them both. He ordered the footmen standing guard outside his father’s room to call for him should any need arise. He also ordered a maid to bring more refreshment and snacks for his cousin, the princess, and the physician.

Kit walked to the study with slow steps, mind occupied with thoughts of how to torture your whereabouts from the nobleman. As much as it would ease the torture, he thought against using cruel devices, knowing his cousin would disapprove of that. And the Grand Duke would have welcomed the pain, seeing as he was not afraid of the sword against his neck when Kit had confronted him earlier that night. The man was demented.

He entered the library first, with the intention of searching for the book you had written in the letter. He trusted his cousin’s report of not having seen it but he knew in him that he must look for it himself, just to confirm that it was indeed missing. He remembered the shelf where you had returned it but, true enough, the space was devoid of the book. The dark, empty gap stood stark against the colorful spines of the other books. He searched through each of the books, hoping it had been kept in another place but he could not find it. He was disappointed by the lack of it but he was hopeful for the other evidence they have gathered.

He went on ahead to the Great Study, to the table he claimed for his own use and found the paperwork the nobleman had left for him to peruse. They were for the transfer of the ownership of the ridges and islands from his father’s name to the Princess Chelina’s. Beneath that mountain of paper sat another marriage contract, this time bare of the names of the parties to be married. Kit knew it was for him and the princess. The Grand Duke wasted no time in seating and establishing his niece to be the new queen of the kingdom. Ambitious man, Kit thought bitterly.

Kit disregarded those papers and resumed on different matters. For the rest of the evening, he pored over businesses of the kingdom, signing treaties, and implementing laws that he knew would better the land. He also worked on his mother’s proposal, now without the constraint of the Grand Duke’s objection. He continued on until the room had grown considerably cold and dark.

He went to the fireplace with intentions of adding more logs to the dying embers when he saw a slip of blue in all the ash and soot. Taking a fire iron, he pulled out the blue piece. What came with it were pages of texts and botanical illustrations. He turned the burned book over and read its title, only to stop when he realized what it was.

His mother’s German herbology book. The very one he had been looking for.

The Grand Duke had burnt a piece of evidence against him.

Bringing the remnants of the herbology book with him, Kit headed for Captain Thibault’s offices. The Captain looked up in surprise at the prince’s sudden appearance.

“Your Royal Highness.” Thibault said as he rose from his seat to bow at his friend.

“I found it.” Kit dropped the book on the table.

“Is this the—”

“Herbology book, yes.” He turned it over and showed the Captain the creased spine, luckily unburnt given the state of the rest of the book. “The reason why my cousin could not find it was because it had been burned in the Great Study’s fireplace.”

The Captain inspected the book, flipping the pages to see what had remained. “The crease does indeed open immediately to Digitalis purpurea but half of the page, and most of the book, is burnt.”

He pointed at the title of the illustration, at the words Digitalis purp-- and looked at the prince.

“But isn’t what matters is I had found it burnt? It is the Grand Duke trying to burn any evidence against him. How he knew of the book, I could not care less but now that we have it, wouldn’t it make for compelling evidence against him?”

“That is not for me to say, Kit, but I will present this to the magistrate, along with the others that you have gathered.” Thibault said.

That satisfied the prince. He sat heavily on one of the seats, mind exhausted. He refused to return to the stuffy, cold Great Study and so he stayed in his friend’s office as he rested his mind.

“The Grand Duke hasn’t confessed to anything more,” Thibault told him.

“Where is he kept?”

“In the first cell of the east dungeons.”

Kit nodded. “Have you searched him for any personal effects that he might use on you or the guards?”

“We did not find anything but we gave him a change of clothes so that we may inspect his garments further. He had no complaints.”

“Keep any sword or dagger away from his cell.” Kit commanded. “And starve him. Do not give him any food or water, not until he confesses to whatever else he has done.”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness.” Thibault closed the burnt tome and added it to his pile of evidence. “The apothecary has agreed to testify against the Grand Duke. Once I send all the evidence to the Magistrate, they will schedule a trial.”

“Good.”

And it was, Kit thought as he started to pace the length of the Captain’s office. He had found all of the proof against the man, the apothecary was willing to testify, and with enough persuasion, so would the former royal physician. He had everything to indict the man and make him pay for his transgressions.

It was nearly done.

All that was left was for you to be found.

“There is still no news of her,” Thibault told him, as though he could read the direction of the prince’s thoughts. “But do not lose heart, Kit—”

That stopped the prince’s pacing. He speared the Captain with a look, not of anger but of desperation.

“She has not been found, Thibault! What if we are too late! What if all they can find of her is her corpse?” he cried passionately. “I cannot bear to be without her. I do not think I can live without her. She is my wife even when that damned paper says otherwise!”

He sat heavily on the seat and cradled his head in his palms, the exhaustion of the day finally dawning on him. He had finished his tasks and he should have been happy with the result but the one task that mattered the most to him was yet to be resolved. He could not function without you; he knew that much to be true. He had to find you, for your sake and his.

“I have failed her. I promised her father I would take care of her and I did not—have not.”

“We have our best men out to look for her. She will be found. I promise you that.”

He felt a fat tear roll down his cheek and he wiped at it, shaking his head desolately. He was a failure as a husband to you.

“My mother… I was not able to save my mother from the Grand Duke. And now my wife…”

Kit swallowed thickly. He did not like the picture his mind had conjured.

“I would not forgive myself if we are too late.”

Thibault did not speak. Kit was silent for the remainder of the hour, only sat there as his friend finished his business. He was not disturbed in his musings—for that, Kit was thankful of his friend—and when it was time for him to leave, the Captain only bid him a good night.

The storm had lessened significantly as the night progressed. Kit hoped you had found shelter and that you were safe, even if the conditions were not favorable. He wished someone had found you and had offered to house you until the storm had passed. He hoped and wished and pled. It was all he could do for the time being. But the moment the Grand Duke would reveal where you were, he would come for you himself.

He entered his father’s room and was surprised to see his cousin and the princess still keeping watch of the king. They had a game of cards between them, perhaps in a way to keep awake until he returned.

“I will look after my father now,” Kit announced to them. “It will be safe to return to your chambers. The Grand Duke will not be a threat to us. Thibault has him kept in the dungeons.”

“I can stay, cousin—” Louis said as he put down his cards.

Kit shook his head. “You have done enough, Louis. Please, rest. I shall see you again in the morning.”

Louis sighed but he relented. He helped the princess to her feet.

“You must rest as well, Kit.” Chelina told him as she placed her hand on the crook of Louis’s elbow. “Call on me to look after the king when you shall be taking your rest.”

“Thank you,” he told her, having no intention to disturb the princess’s slumber, and bid them a good night.

He watched them leave together. He then walked to his father’s bed and kept vigil by his side. He did not know of what to speak with his father. Whilst they were candid with one another, with the king’s current state, Kit did not know if telling him the truth of his mother’s death was ideal.

“Father.” Kit sighed as he held the king’s hand. He had kept watch of his father for an hour, no words spoken until the weight of his burden became unbearable.

“Father, I… I do not know what to do.” He watched the gentle rise and fall of his father’s chest, listened to his rhythmic breathing, and timed it with his own.

“I am unprepared. I am at a loss of what else should be done. I know that you have prepared me for when this time will arrive but I am humble enough to admit that I cannot take this on without your help. So, please. I beg of you, wake up. I need all the help you can offer.”

The king did not respond. The prince did not expect him to.

“You cannot give me your adviser. He has done a great sin to the kingdom but most especially to us. I cannot tell you while you are asleep but even when you are awake, as imperative it is for you to know, I would not want you to relive the hurt you felt upon mother’s death.”

His father remained unmoving on his bed.

Kit sighed deeply.

“He has stolen Y/N away from me. It had been a day and I fear that she is somewhere unsafe. The storm aggravates my thoughts but even if it were not raining, I would still worry for her welfare. Unless she is beside me, then I will continue to worry.

“I love her, Father. More than my life. More than the crown I will be wearing if you decide not to awake. If you will shun me, then I have no choice but to accept it. She has become my life in the short time I have gotten to know her. I cannot be without her.

“You must forgive me if my wishes do not align with yours. My only sin was to love someone I should not. She is faultless. Do not blame her for the love I have for her.”

He squeezed his father’s hand. The king did not return the gesture.

“Have I told you how wonderful she is? She treats everyone with kindness and fairness. She does not judge. She thinks of everyone else’s welfare before her own.” He gave a soft, sad chuckle at the memory of your first time in the square with him. “I believe I have not told you of the time she refused a free apple because she did not want the man to lose money for not selling it. It might seem insignificant to you but to me, I saw the goodness in her heart. She did have told me she wanted the whole of the kingdom to succeed, even the smallest of us.”

Kit squeezed his father’s hand once more. Every memory of you ached in his chest.

“It was her who discovered the truth of mother’s death.” The prince said in a whisper. His throat worked. “She had offered to help the kitchen staff label the tea leaves and it was how she found the poison that killed mother.

“She discovered it all on her own, Father. Just from the tea leaves, she deduced mother was murdered and she launched an investigation. I have it all in her writing. She gave a detailed account of her findings in the letter she was smart enough to leave with Louis before the Grand Duke had discovered what she knew of his sins.

“She is the reason you survived. When she plunged her hand in your throat, it was because she knew you were poisoned by hemlock. The emetic she was to use for herself, she used on you so you may live. She has done many things for us that we do not know.”

Kit yawned and felt the heaviness come down his eyelids.

“Y/N may not be born a royal, Father, but she is my princess. I will not marry anyone else but her.”

He folded his arm atop his father’s bed and rested his head on it. He looked at his father’s sleeping form once more, praying, hoping that he would soon wake.

“I love her, Father. I will marry her again, with or without your blessing.”

He closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him.

Kit felt a gentle brush against his forehead, stirring him from his slumber. He peered from his position, turning to the finger that had parted the hair that hung on his forehead, and saw his father watching him. He sat up immediately, not minding that his back had been sore at the improper position he had slept in. He could not care less for himself, especially now that his father was awake.

“Doctor!” he called.

He grasped his father’s hand in his again, smiling in relief at the sight of him with his eyes opened.

“Kit. Why are you asleep here, my boy?” the king rasped. “Why are you not in your room?”

The prince could only chuckle and squeezed his father’s hand tightly. “We were worried for you, father. You had been asleep for more than a day.”

The physician came over and began his medical ministrations about the king, checking his overall health. Kit ordered a footman to announce to his cousin and the princess that the king was awake.

“What has happened while I was asleep?” the king asked.

Kit hesitated to tell him, not wanting to send his father into another fit at the revelations of the days past. But he knew that prolonging the inevitable would only hurt his father more. And the king was bound to know the truth.

“You have been poisoned, Father.” he said.

“Poisoned?” the king echoed confusedly.

Kit nodded, grim as he told his father all that had happened that night. He spared no information and did not mince words as he told him of the treachery the Grand Duke had done. He watched the emotions that came upon the king’s face. There was betrayal and anger but it was mostly despondence and despair upon the truth of his wife’s death. The king was silent when he listened to his son but there was the unmistakeable anger in him that even the prince was afraid of.

“Where is the Grand Duke?” the king asked as he moved to stand from his bed.

The physician denied his efforts and gently pushed him down the bed, telling him that he would need to keep his health up before he could resume his business.

“We have him in our custody in the dungeons. I would be speaking with him later to know where he had kept Y/N.” Kit said. “We are yet to find her. Louis has sent his men, so had Captain Thibault but there is still no news of her.”

“Kit—”

He held up a hand to stop the king from speaking any further. He would not want to hear his father dissuade him from finding you.

“No, father. You cannot sway me.” Kit told him. “I want her found. I will join the search party if I have to. I have done everything you had asked of me before but if you now tell me to sit by and call off the search, then you must forgive me when I disobey you. This is my wife we are speaking about. She has saved you. She has discovered the reason of mother’s death. She has risked her life to deliver proof to us. If you do not think her worthy of me, then I am inclined to think that you are not worthy of her. She is twice more than I will ever be because she is kind and courageous.”

The king watched his son’s impassioned speech and he was reminded of his own youth, when he had told his father of his love for an unknown princess. He and his son were so similar yet so different with one another. His own father had denied him his freedom to choose a bride and he was forced to marry Princess Amalie, who he had the good fortune of falling in love with. But to see his son Kit so passionate of you, the king knew he could not be like his father, would not force his son to face the same ordeal as he had. While the Princess Chelina was the obvious choice as queen of the kingdom, he would not want his son to be unhappy in his marriage.

The king held his son’s hand and squeezed it. “Find her.”

“Father?” Kit asked, confused. He had not anticipated his father to be convinced so easily, especially when he had been adamant of his betrothal to Chelina.

“Find her, Kit, and bring her back.”

Kit entered the Grand Duke’s cell and stood opposite of the man who was shackled against the wall. The Grand Duke watched him with unimpressed eyes and did not move to bow when he had been addressed. He gave no greeting but taunted him instead.

“So, you have me shackled because you are afraid of me,” the nobleman said as he shook his wrist. The chains clanged loudly against each link, echoing in the damp, dark dungeon.

“I am not afraid of you,” Kit replied. “But you should be afraid of the things I will do to you until you tell me my wife’s whereabouts.”

The man’s laugh was short and sarcastic.

“So you resort to violence when you do not have your way? You and I are not so different after all, Your Royal Highness.” The mad man made a grand gesture of bowing at the prince.

“We are different.” The prince ground out. “I am nothing like you, hurting innocents for your own personal gain.”

He snorted when he regained his position. “‘Innocent,’” he said disdainfully. “Your mother was hardly innocent. Did you know how many people she had crossed when she did not want to sell the mines? Or that insolent girl, Y/N? You think her innocent after she has trapped you into a marriage you do not want? They are not so faultless as you let yourself believe.”

“The mines are not any concern of yours. It was the queen’s prerogative to do as she pleased with her property.” Kit advanced to the man and stood just an arm’s reach away from him. “And do not insult my wife. She has discovered what you have done. She was only an innocent investigator and you stole her away from me.”

“That chit has disrespected me—”

“And you surely have disrespected her long before she stood up for herself. Before the divorce, she was a princess and I had never seen you treat her as such. For a nobleman such as yourself, that would be remiss. For the devil that you are, however, I think it in character of you to do so.”

The Grand Duke only glared at the prince. Guards arrived at the confining cell and flanked the man.

“Bring him to the Chapel,” Kit ordered as he watched the Grand Duke be taken out of his shackles.

“Am I to repent for my sins?” the man asked sarcastically as two guards pulled him away. “And I thought you called me the devil.”

Kit ignored him and followed as they went further down the dungeons.

The Chapel was no house of God. It was, ironically, a torture chamber. Built by his predecessors, the torture room was one part of the palace that had remained unchanged in centuries. It boasted of vaulted ceilings reminiscent of those in churches, with trusses from which more shackles swung from where they were hung. It had no windows for light and air to pass through. However, it had a vast array of torture devices covering the walls for any of the Royal Guards to use on criminals.

“Kit, there is still time for you to back—” Thibault said as soon as Kit arrived in the Chapel. The Captain had seen the prince in the battlefield and knew him to be ruthless as a warrior and as a tactician. He knew Kit would not soften every blow he was to deliver just because he had been the king’s adviser.

“I will not back down,” he told his friend, tone unyielding. “I will not lose my soul upon the torture of a clearly deranged and guilty man.”

Thibault only nodded, knowing he could not sway his friend, and stepped aside.

The guards had bound the Grand Duke’s wrists and ankles to the chair in the middle of the Chapel. Kit had taken off his coat and neared him, bringing with him a bucket of water.

“You mean to drown me with a bucket full of water?” The Grand Duke taunted with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “My, my. What an ineffective means of torture.”

“Where is she?” Kit demanded.

The nobleman only looked at the prince before he shrugged his shoulders impassively.

Kit splashed the icy water on him forcefully, causing the man to gasp and sputter in surprise. When the water had drained away, he only looked up at Kit with an unconcerned air.

“You stole her from me! Where is she!” Kit yelled.

He dropped the bucket he held and leaned in closer to the malicious man, spearing him with a hateful glare. The nobleman challenged his stare and said nothing. It only irritated the prince further.

“I will not be kind the next time I ask, Grand Duke. Tell me now—”

“Or what? You will untie me? You will set me free?” His laughter erupted from him and the sarcastic sound grated against Kit’s skin. “What will I get out of my telling you where I had left her?”

“Nothing—”

“Then I say nothing.”

Kit fought against his need to resort to violence and his fist made contact with the nobleman’s gut. The Grand Duke sputtered and coughed yet again but did not reply.

“I did say I will not be kind.” Kit drew back his fist for another pounce.

The Grand Duke eyed him disdainfully.

“Now, I ask again. Where did you take my wife?”

“Aren’t you delusional, boy? Did you not hear what your father told you? You are not married anymore. That girl is not your wife.”

Kit socked him hard in the ear. The force sent the nobleman tumbling, falling heavily on his side, still in his seat. The prince crouched down to the man, seething with anger. There was a small trail of blood that trickled from the man’s ear. Kit did not feel an ounce of remorse at his actions.

“I am not in a gaming mood!” Kit yelled. “Tell me where she is!”

The Grand Duke did not crane his neck to address the prince. His eyes only turned to him and he looked far more sinister in this position than when he had been upright.

“You have the Princess Chelina to marry. Are you willing to defy your father’s wishes, all for your misguided notion that she is in love with you?” He chuckled darkly. “You are foolish, Kit. Of course, any young woman will fall for you. You’re the prince. It is your title she wants, not you.”

Kit drew back in derision for his words. The Grand Duke only spoke of falsehoods and yet, he spoke with assurance that the prince momentarily believed his lies to be true.

You never cared that you were a princess. You hurt when the news of your divorce broke. You returned his kisses when he kissed you. You understood his aches and pains and your very presence took all of those away because you loved him. You loved him.

The prince stood to his full height, sneering at the man, and nodded at the guards. “Sit him up.”

Once the Grand Duke was upright, Kit turned to the man again. He gave a sarcastic smile of his own, at the nobleman’s words that intended to hurt him but it only made him pity the man.

“Of course. Of course, it must be my title, much like it was yours when you took a maid to be your lover.” Kit said. “It is no question she is merely using you to gain a higher status in the household. She holds no love for you and because of that, she will have no qualms in telling us of all the sins you have committed.”

The Grand Duke’s mouth remained shut. His eyes only grew more and more crazed as the hours went by. Kit inflicted whatever torture he could think of, hoping with each one that it would force a confession from the man. The noble held strong, keeping your location a secret. It went on for a while, with Kit unrelenting in his tortures and the Grand Duke not giving any indication of your whereabouts.

“Do you want to know why I did it?” The Grand Duke asked after hours of water torture and strikes to his person. It did not seem to bother him that his pristine white shirt was now tinged pink with water and his blood.

“Why I killed your mother?” He asked it so casually that it renewed the anger in the prince.

Kit’s body grew colder at the mention of his mother. He did not like it when the subject was broached, most especially by the man responsible for her demise.

“You told me it was for the riches.” Kit spat as he glared at the man.

Despite the swelling that nearly closed the man’s left eye, there was a diabolical gleam in them, one that told Kit he enjoyed the game they were to play. “Most of it was because of that, of course. Am I to just kill her because I liked to? Yes, but I much rather I get something from it.”

The prince fisted his hand, drawing it back to charge and punch him. This time, the nobleman took the hit to the jaw. The man’s face had been battered enough, to the point where Kit’s fist ached for having caused it. He would not show it because he could not afford to show weakness to the man whose answer holds your salvation.

“You see, I do not like it when women have more power compared to me.” The crazed gleam returned in his eye. “They are feeble-minded creatures, so easily swayed with simple gifts and ideas. Whoever thought a kingdom needed a queen was clearly not of sound mind. A king is capable. Man is capable. Women? They are not.”

Kit only watched him. He did not move from where he stood—would not move because if he did, he would easily kill him.

“Your mother was no exception. She was readily persuaded by my gifts. She’s a simpleton, you see. Quite the opposite of what you and the kingdom make her. You think her brilliant but she is not. Simple laws just to please the people. Nothing to advance it to greatness.”

Kit knew the words from the man’s mouth were all lies. He refused to believe to any of them.

“And you have something to offer for the kingdom’s advancement?” he asked instead, humoring the man in hopes of finding his answers.

“I offered my niece.”

“Ah, yes. Another woman for you to control and be rid of as you wish.”

The smile that graced the Grand Duke’s face was patronizing and proud. “Ah! Now you see my point!” he crowed in delight.

Kit glared. “I see your sinister plans. Chelina is not for you to control. So was my mother and as is my wife. They were never yours to do as you like.”

“And yet I still did. Such is the power of men, don’t you think, Your Royal Highness?”

“You forget that the reason you are here is because of Y/N. She pieced together all of what you had done to my mother. It took a woman to defeat you, Grand Duke.”

“And I defeated her. Wherever I had left her, she will not survive. She might even be dead, now as we speak.” He gave Kit a challenging look, smirking as though he enjoyed this game they were playing. “I still win.”

A muscle jumped at Kit’s jaw.

“You will thank me one day, Kit. You do not need that chit whom you fancy yourself in love with.”

The self-satisfied smile remained on the nobleman’s face. Kit wanted nothing more but to wipe it off.

“Were you ever loved, Grand Duke? Is this where the hatred comes from?” The prince asked and watched as the smile fell of his face. “Because, clearly, you have never loved. I do not think your heart has the capacity to hold such emotion.”

“Love,” he spat disdainfully. “Holds us back. It gives us nothing—”

“It gives satisfaction and contentment; two things you will never find if you scorn the very emotion from whence it came.”

“I have no need of it.”

“I am sure you don’t. You’ve displayed contempt for anything akin to that.” He looked directly in the man’s eyes. “Your parents, they favored your sister, did they not? Loved her above all else, above you. This is why you loathe women.”

The Grand Duke’s eyes blazed in anger. Kit picked more at the wound he had just opened.

“So you despise them as a lot because they reminded you of what you did not receive when you were younger—”

“I was the heir but they did not care for me! They wanted my sister for the opportunities she could bring us!” The Grand Duke strained against his bindings. Veins had made themselves apparent on his neck. “From the moment of her birth, she had been coddled and loved! They had given her everything that was supposed to be mine!”

Kit bit back a triumphant smile and regarded the angry man impassively. The noble struggled to break free in his seat, livid at having been caught the cause of his vulnerability. The muscles on the man’s neck jumped as he seethed at the prince.

“Love did not bring them satisfaction and contentment. It made them weak. The moment my sister was of age, they married her off to that pompous Zaragozan prince and used all of my money as her dowry! They left me desolate and poor, all because they loved the weak one.”

“So you chose to not love?”

“I chose to be strong. That blasted emotion will only weigh me down. I had been successful without it because I was not held back by that foolish emotion.”

Kit swore he saw the muscle at the man’s jaw twitch but it did not frighten him. He had the upper hand. The Grand Duke looked at him with all of the disdain and fury in the world.

“I am nothing like you, so desperate to save your loved one from drowning. With the unending storm, you will be too late. You will never save her. Love will not save her. It will only make a fool out of you.”

Kit prepared a rebuttal to his verbal attack but halted when he realized what the man had said. The Grand Duke had not mentioned of you drowning in any of the times Kit had asked for you. He never gave your location nor did he give any clues as to where you were kept. If he said you were to drown… then it could mean you were near bodies of water.

The Grand Duke seemed to have noticed his mistake and kept his mouth shut. He said nothing further, only looked at the prince with as much contempt and anger he could muster.

“Why would she drown?” Kit asked as he neared him once more.

The noble did not speak.

Kit fisted the front of the man’s shirt dress. His anger and desperation provided him with enough strength to hoist the man up, chair and all.

"Tell me where she is!" he demanded. “I had played long enough with you, Grand Duke. You are to answer my questions if you want to survive.”

He only looked at the young royal, unblinking.

“Where did you leave Y/N?”

Silence.

“You will not be given food until you tell me where my wife is!”

“Then I would much rather starve.”

Kit dropped the man unceremoniously and turned to the Captain.

“Return him to his cell. Do not feed him. Do not give him any water. Make him suffer until he confesses where she is.” He commanded. “Get your best men to search at any bodies of water. Tell them not to return to the palace without my wife.”

“What will you do, Your Royal Highness?” Thibault asked after he had commanded his men to do as the prince ordered.

“I will look for her myself.”

The rains were relentless. It had not stopped since and you worried for the rising waters. You had not attempted to climb out of the hole again, what with your broken ankle having swollen twice its size. You could only scream out but your voice had gone raspy at the effort. The hope of being found was slowly waning every passing second.

Your will to survive was strong but your body grew weak. You had developed a fever from being submerged in water and also of the numerous broken bones and bruises you had procured upon the Grand Duke’s attempts of your disposal. A rest would have renewed your strength but in your current situation, the best you could do was recline against the jagged wall. The sharp stones did not faze you anymore. They had become your companion and only source of proof that you were still alive and awaiting rescue… if they ever knew you were gone.

You could not tell if a day or two had passed. There was only constant darkness. Your eyes had grown accustomed to it and you feared you were on your way to permanent blindness after having not seen the sun or light for so long. But despite that, when you close your eyes, vivid color and memories abound.

You saw the palace, the king having tea in the gardens and the prince training with the Captain of the Guards. You saw the jolly Duke of Granville, proclaiming sonnets with his usual flair. The Princess of Zaragoza was in the town square, perusing the gemstones of the kingdom. Your father, sailing the high seas. Your mother, smiling at you through the mirror and singing as she combed your hair…

You were sure the vision of your mother was a hallucination. You had been but a child when she had passed. It was impossible to have a memory of her with this older version of you, smiling encouragingly, lovingly. But you clung to that hallucination, to the song that had brought you comfort when you were young.

The water poured, urging you to rise to your feet. You kept your back to the wall, hands feeling the stones. Your ankle protested at the sudden added weight and you hummed to yourself to distract yourself from the pain. Your eyes burned at the discomfort but you were unsure if tears had fallen because there was only constant rainfall in your small hole.

If the rains did not stop, it would fill the space with enough water to drown you. Your dress weighed you down, your feet were useless with the injury, and even if you could try and swim, it would be futile if the hole was not filled to the brim.

Another thunder cracked the sky. You shut your eyes and started singing weakly with your mother the lullaby you knew that would calm you. You allowed yourself to be enveloped by the hallucination, of your mother’s comforting strokes against your hair as she lulled you to rest.

“Lavender’s blue, dilly, dilly. Lavender’s green. If you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you…”

Kit shared the revelation to his father, to Chelina, and to his cousin. His father had seen what an unstoppable force he had become in his pursuit of you and allowed him to join the search, provided that his cousin come with him. Kit protested, told them that his cousin had helped him with the errand of gathering information the day before but the king would not hear of it. Despite Kit’s many protestations and insistences, Louis became the last member of the small search party he headed.

They journey east, to the largest lake of the kingdom that ran adjacent to his mother’s mountains. The storm remained strong in that part of the kingdom and it already posed a danger to them as they rode towards it. To be in the middle of it, however, was a challenge in and of itself.

Kit ordered the guards to tie themselves to the tree once they start their search in the waters. The currents had become too strong for them to dive deep. The tree would serve as an anchor for them to not be carried away.

“As much as I want to find her,” Louis said as he neared his cousin. “I only wish she is not here. Even the best swimmers could not survive such strong waves and currents.”

Kit could not help but agree with his cousin. He knew how much you had loved travelling by boat but the fickle nature of that lake was nothing compared to the serene waters of the seas. Even if he was desperate to find you, he would not have wanted to be presented your corpse for trying to brave such conditions of the lake.

He watched as Louis tied the rope around his waist and to the tree to join the search underwater. Kit did the same, tying himself to the roots of the tree and swam as far as he could with his length of rope. He fought against the current, diving deep and groping whatever he could that resembled you. Every attempt proved ineffective and Kit rose from the waters, much more frustrated than when he had started.

One by one the guards went up from their search, each looking at the prince apologetically at coming up empty-handed. Kit only thanked them for their efforts and commanded them to search for you in another part of the lake.

He knew his cousin had started to worry when he emerged from searching the last quarter of the lake without you. They had reached its depths, finding unusual creatures and resources but nothing of you. Kit supposed he should have been thankful for not finding you at the bottom of one of the deepest lakes of the kingdom but he also hoped that he would have seen something at all that would tell of your presence in the body of water.

Still, he refused to stop in the search.

But he had not one idea how to continue.

Before them, the mountains loomed. Its peaks were nearly invisible in the clouds of the storm. They were the mountains his mother was gifted upon her marriage, the very ones the Grand Duke coveted and killed for. Whenever he rode past them, he often remembered how proud his mother had been at the discovery of the gemstones and how she longed to use them for the betterment of the kingdom’s economy. Now, they only served as a reminder that she had been stolen from them because of the greed of one foreign adviser.

Come to the mountains, a gentle, female voice called to him. Come and you shall find what you seek.

Kit felt the pull of the mountains. He knew there was nothing there; the miners did not work in such dire conditions. It sat abandoned during the summer months during its intense heat and raging storms. He did not know why it called to him but he knew he had to go there and see for himself why.

He donned his still wet shirt, accepting the coldness that clung on his back like punishment for having not found you yet, and mounted his horse.

“Where are you going?” Louis asked as he watched the set look on his cousin’s face before doing the same thing.

“The mountains. They—they call to me.” Kit said almost absently, intent on riding towards the mines. He kicked his heels against the horse’s flanks, making it gallop towards the mountains.

“Call to you? You have gone mad!” The duke said as he followed along. “How am I going to explain this to your father!”

The prince rode ahead, rushing through trees and land, much speedier than he had at the start of the search. He knew he would find it empty but the pull was too mighty to ignore. Was it his mother telling him something? It was an absurd notion to even think that his mother was there in the mountains—she had been buried in the Royal Cemetery—but to Kit, it made sense. The mountains were her pride and joy, in addition to him. It must mean something, this pull.

“You do understand that in order to drown, there must be water, cousin.” Louis told him when he had caught up beside him. “A mountain is not a body of water. I think you ought to know the difference of that at this age of yours.”

They reached the miners’ camp, a worn little village that had been abandoned for the season. There were no flicker of lights in any of the thatched houses nor movement inside; no sign of activity at all. But there was something there, Kit was sure. There was something that urged him to come and investigate.

Despite not wanting to stop in the search, Kit took the silence of the place as a respite form all the turmoil in and out of him. He may not be alone but, before the mighty mountains of his kingdom, he was at peace.

“We should leave, Kit. Continue on with our search. We are wasting daylight by ambling here,” his cousin said beside him.

He kept ignoring the duke and went his way around the village. Kit stopped behind the village, at the start of the quarry at the base of the mountain. His mother had advocated for the safety of the miners, ensuring that there be a barricade to the entrance of the shaft lest someone accidentally tread and fall through. That entrance had been permanently closed now, having no more stones or precious metals to be mined.

“I am feeling a sense of dread about the place, Kit,” Louis said as he stepped closer to the prince. “When you said it called to you, I was hoping it had been a figurative sense.”

“I heard a voice—”

“A voice? Have you hit your head on the lakebed?”

“It was loud and clear.”

Louis whirled around, at the emptiness of the village, and gestured to it with a flourish of his hands. “Well, it is clearly empty. We won’t find her here. There is no body of water where she can possibly drown in.”

“Just—” Kit sighed in frustration. “It called to me, cousin. It must mean something.”

Whatever—or whoever—it was that called him, it wanted him there for a reason.

He neared the entrance and looked beyond it, to the abandoned carts and tools. His cousin as right, there was nothing there of importance, but to see the mines strengthened his resolve once more. Kit would do whatever it was in his power to see through his mother’s plans. He would put emphasis on the mountains during his regency and he would implement your idea for the betterment of the kingdom. But he had to find you because he refused to be king if you were not his queen.

Kit stayed quiet, feeling the serenity the mountains brought. Despite the raging storm, the absence of the angry waves proved to be the cure to the uproar in him. He still could not think clearly but to see the progress of his mother’s project renewed his determination.

There is nothing here but only a brief respite, he thought to himself. He wanted to stay long, to bask in the peace of it but he knew he must return to his search for you.

He moved to follow his cousin back to the lake when he heard a different voice sing, albeit faint.

Lavender’s blue, dilly, dilly. Lavender’s green.

If you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you.

The lullaby flitted across the mountains, echoing, haunting, even in its hushed tones. His mother’s spirit was alive in these mountains, haunting him but in the best ways possible. Kit remained quiet as he listened to the phantom song that resonated around him.

Let the lambs play, dilly, dilly. Let the lambs play.

You shall be safe, dilly, dilly. Safe from harm’s way.

“I think I believe you now, cousin.” Louis said as he pressed himself beside Kit.

“What?” the prince frowned.

“Do you not hear it? The voice? It’s singing a lullaby.” The duke told his cousin, eyes surveying the empty mining village for where the voice originated.

“You hear it?” Kit asked. He thought it was his mother’s spirit, singing to comfort him, but if Louis could hear it… Then it meant the voice was real.

“Of course, I hear it. I can’t find where it’s from and I do not think I would want to know.”

Kit craned his neck, listening intently for the voice. It was difficult to perceive with the howling of the strong winds but the melancholy, hopeful tone made him want to find it. He stalked aimlessly about the place, turning his ear about until he could discern the voice properly.

“Kit, I do not think it wise—”

“Someone is here, cousin.”

“Aren’t the mines abandoned during the monsoons? How could someone be here when the entire village has left for the season?” He kept close to his cousin, eyes nervously darting about the place, fearing he might see something he did not wish to see. “And if you do see someone, I beg you do not ask me to look unless what you see is corporeal.”

Call up your men, dilly, dilly. Set them to work.

Some to the plough, dilly, dilly. Some to the fork.

The voice sounded stronger towards the end of the village and Kit headed towards it. He considered his cousin’s words, at the possibility of the voice being nothing but an illusion but it was too real—too human, even—to be anything but. It had to be a person, that and nothing more.

The voice seemed to emanate from the well that was situated on the farthest end of the village. A flat piece of wood covered the top but it had enough space for the voice to echo from the inside. As he was about to near it, Louis grabbed at his arm tightly, halting him in his steps.

“What if it were a dangerous animal?” Louis asked his cousin. His words may say differently but his eyes implored him that they leave the place.

Kit looked at his cousin and patted his shoulder. He had to investigate, even if it meant he would do it alone. “If you do not wish to see it, then you may leave. I will remain here.”

“Unwise thing to say and do, cousin. You know I cannot back down from any adventure.” The duke said before he squared his shoulders in an attempt to look big, so at odds with the tremble in his voice. “Let us only hope it will it jump away at the sight of us.”

Some to make hay, dilly, dilly. Some to reap corn.

While you and I, dilly, dilly, keep ourselves warm.

It sounded from inside of the well, louder this time but still weak. Kit and Louis took to one end of the wood plank and shoved it aside.

“Lavender’s blue, dilly, dilly. Lavender’s green. If you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you.” You sang as you watched your reflection on the mirror in your home’s foyer.

Your mother had halted singing and had vanished. You frowned as you whirled around, in search of her. She had been beside you just as you were looking at your reflection. She had dressed you in a pink gown that was once hers and had fawned over you for growing up to look like her. She had even shed a tear at the sight of you, never thinking she would live to see the day to see you become a lady like herself.

“Mother?” you called out. “Mother, where are you?”

“Y/N, my love,” your mother called from above you.

You turned to her, smiling as she stood atop the spiral stairs, dangling the long ribbon down at you.

“Oh, Mother. I thought you had gone,” you told her.

“Tie this ribbon around your waist,” she said with a soft smile. “And whatever you do, do not let go.”

You were confused with her choice of words but heeded her orders nonetheless. You took the piece of ribbon and tied it around your waist, securing it with a knot you had learned from the sailors in one of your many travels.

You felt yourself being pulled upwards and the sudden action made you start and jerk around in your bindings.

“Try not to move around so much, my love.” Your mother said. “Remain calm. Keep singing to me.”

Hands tight on the thin strip of ribbon, you clenched your eyes shut and resumed the lullaby you had been singing with your mother.

“Roses are red, dilly, dilly. Violets are blue.” You sang shakily as you were being hauled up. Your eyes remained closed, afraid that if you open them, you would see how far you had been pulled up from the ground.

“Because you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you.” You heard your mother sing with you.

You took a while to follow through her song, absorbed on keeping your breath and the galloping beats of your heart even.

“Let the birds sing, dilly, dilly. And the lambs play.”

“Very good, my love.” You heard the smile on your mother’s voice. “We are so near.”

Near what, you did not know but you trusted your mother.

“Look at me,” she urged but you declined her request. “You can open your eyes, Y/N. Look at me. I will not put you in harm’s way.”

You slowly opened your eyes, expecting to see the green color of your mother’s eyes but instead, you saw blue. The bluest of all blues you had ever seen.

Lines of laughter crinkled around the eyes you swore were familiar to you. Your own eyes smiled along at the sight of it.

“Sing with me?” the voice asked. It was not your mother’s anymore but it comforted you all the same.

Your lips curved upward, your first genuine smile in what you felt was a long time.

And in one voice, you both sang.

“We shall be safe, dilly, dilly. Out of harm’s way.”

The relief Kit felt was immense and immediate. It felt like water dousing the fire within him, of a warm bowl of soup after the coldness of the winter. It was like a part of him that had been missing had finally been returned to him.

And it had.

Yours was the mysterious voice that sang from the well but you were not the one that called him. Whoever—or whatever—it was, Kit thanked it profusely. If it weren’t for the voice that begged of him to seek the mountains, he would not have thought to visit it. He then wouldn’t have been able to find and rescue you.

He believed he only arrived at the most crucial of times because when you had been rescued from the abandoned well, you were feverish and delirious, badly bruised and your broken ankle had swollen nearly twice its size. You had shivered the moment you emerged from the well and Kit knew he had to take you to the physician immediately so that you would receive the best care.

“How is she?” Kit asked once the physician exited your chambers.

He had left you to the care of the Royal physician and his assistants and had remained outside of your room, unable to watch how they set your grotesque foot back to how it was before. He could not take it seeing you in this great a pain and having no power to take it away. You had suffered enough. Kit wanted to take all of it for himself so you may rest.

“She is asleep, Your Royal Highness,” the man told him. “I have bound her foot in a splint. She would be unable to leave her chambers until it is set properly.”

“And her fever?”

“There is only so much I can do with her fever,” he said. “Let us hope it breaks in the following days. If tonight, however, it has cooled, then she will be safe.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Kit asked, near desperate. “Anything at all I can get her so she may be comfortable?"

The physician shook his head. “There is nothing more we can do. It is all up to her. You must rest, Your Royal Highness. You must keep your health.”

He could only nod his head. He entered your chambers, careful and quiet when he passed through the door. You laid on your bed, dwarfed by the number of pillows they had placed around you. Your ankle had been wrapped in cloth and held still by the splint the physician had mentioned. You were at peace now, asleep, color now on your skin, looking far healthier than when he had first rescued you.

Abigail wrung the water from the cloth and laid it on your forehead.

“How is her fever?” Kit asked as he neared you.

Your maid stood in attention, bowing at the sight of the prince before looking forlornly at your resting figure. “She is still warm to the touch, Your Royal Highness. The physician told me to keep changing the cloth if it has become warm.”

Kit nodded inattentively, eyes and thoughts only towards your slumbering form. He wanted to near you, wanted to hold your hand in his and assure you—and himself—that you were home and safe and no harm will come to you. But instead, he remained where he was, immovable because he did not want to disturb your peace.

He thanked Abigail and left your room without another word.

“Cousin? Is she—?” Louis asked as he passed the prince in the hallway.

“She is fine. Asleep. She is resting.” Kit told him.

“And are you well?” he inquired, peering at the tired look on his cousin’s face.

“I am well,” Kit assured him albeit wearily.

Louis embraced his cousin in relief. “She is found, Kit. There is nothing to worry about anymore.”

Kit returned the gesture, wrapping his arms tight around his cousin. “Thank you,” the prince said, voice choked with emotions that he had been supressing the past days. “Thank you for helping me find her, cousin.”

The next few days proved to be challenging for the prince. Your fever had not broken in the first two nights since you had arrived. Kit had asked of the physician to remain in the palace for longer, afraid to be helpless if the doctor were out of reach and you needed his aid. The Magistrate had commenced the trial for the Grand Duke and had employed for him a lawyer in accordance with the laws of the land. Although the man’s guilt was obvious, the Magistrate found it fair to give him a just trial and be given the opportunity to defend himself from his glaringly evident sins. It frustrated Kit but he followed through with the wishes.

The Prince of Prussia arrived three days after you had been found. Whilst the foreign royal had no information of the duplicity the Grand Duke had done, he had not been surprised at the events.

They convened in the State Hall, with Kit presiding over the gathering. The king joined the meeting as well, albeit only to hear of what his son and the Prussian prince had to say of the Grand Duke.

“Am Großherzog war immer etwas Verwerfliches, aber wir haben nie herausgefunden, was es war.” Prince Frederick told Kit. “Ich schäme mich, dass Ihrem Königreich ein solcher Vorfall passiert ist, und das alles wegen eines Adligen, der aus meinem Königreich kam.” (There was always something reprehensible about the Grand Duke, but we never found out what it was. I am ashamed that such an incident happened to your kingdom, and all because of a nobleman who came from my kingdom.)

Kit only looked at the prince with a watchful eye. While he did not expect the Prussian royal to keep watch all of his nobility, he still should have prevented the man’s departure from his kingdom. There was also the matter of his being one of your admirers, a fact Kit had not forgotten since that fateful night of his mother’s death anniversary ball. He had inquired of you and your health upon his arrival. He was polite and apologetic but it still did not dissuade Kit’s iciness towards the other royal.

If the Prussian royal misinterpreted Kit’s contempt for anything but, he did not show it.

“Dann werden Sie sicherlich nichts gegen die Strafen haben, die unsere Gesetze gegen einen Ihrer Bürger verhängen werden?” Kit asked of him. (Then surely you will not object to the penalties that our laws will inflict on one of your citizens?)

“Nein.” (No.)

Kit turned to his father and saw his nod in agreement.

“Obwohl,” Prince Frederick started and Kit turned his attention back to the Prussian. “Mein einziger Einwand ist die Vollstreckung des Urteils. Wäre es nicht humaner, ihn zu köpfen, als ihn aufzuhängen?” (Although, my only objection lies on the execution of the sentence. Would it not be more humane to behead him than to hang him?)

A regal brow raised on Kit’s face before it turned into a frown. Humane? A nobleman from his country had poisoned the queen and had thrown the princess in a well and yet the prince cried for humanity in his execution? It was absurd!

Kit squared his shoulders and speared the prince a glance that told the people in the Hall that his words will not hear any arguments.

“Du sprichst von Menschlichkeit und doch hat dein Edelmann nicht daran gedacht. Meine Mutter ist wegen ihm gestorben. Meine Frau litt tagelang am tiefen Brunnen, wo er sie zum Sterben zurückließ. Ihn aufzuhängen ist Gnade im Vergleich zu der Strafe, die ich ihm auferlegen will.” Kit told him in a quiet, cold tone that thundered against the walls. (You speak of humanity and yet your nobleman has not thought of it. My mother died because of him. My wife suffered for days in the deep well where he left her to die. Hanging him is mercy compared to the punishment I intend to inflict on him.)

Prince Frederick did not challenge his words and offered another apology at him. “Vergib mir. Ich habe nur gefragt, weil es nicht die preußische Art ist. In unserem Reich—” (Forgive me. I only asked because it is not the Prussian way. In our kingdom—)

“Er hat sich in meinem Königreich geirrt und soll entsprechend bestraft werden.” He told him icily. “Ich habe Sie nicht nach Ihrer Meinung gefragt, Ihre Königliche Hoheit." (He has erred in my kingdom and shall be punished accordingly. I did not ask for your opinion, Your Royal Highness.)

The Prussian Prince bowed as he ceded Kit’s words. “Ich muss mich noch einmal für den Schmerz entschuldigen, den er Ihnen, Ihrer Familie und dem Königreich zugefügt hat.” (I must apologize once again for the pain he has caused you, your family, and the kingdom.)

Kit nodded briskly.

“Und Sie müssen mir meine Unwissenheit über Ihre Ehe verzeihen. Ich hoffe meine Verwirrung ist entschuldigt. Ich dachte, du wärst mit Prinzessin Chelina von Saragossa verlobt?” Prince Frederick watched him cautiously, unsure how to continue without offending the other prince. (And you must forgive my ignorance of your marriage. I hope my confusion is excused. I thought you were engaged to Princess Chelina of Zaragoza?)

Kit looked around the Hall, to the guards that stood waiting for their orders, and he waved his hand to dismiss them. Prince Frederick did the same with his. When all were left were Kit, his father, Prince Frederick, and Louis, Kit answered Frederick’s inquiry.

“Meine Verlobung mit Prinzessin Chelina wurde vom Großherzog in der Hoffnung entworfen, mehr Kontrolle zu haben. Mein Vater und ich waren uns seiner Absichten nicht bewusst, als ich der Gewerkschaft zum ersten Mal zustimmte. Wir hielten es für klug, dass ich seine Nichte heirate, wegen der Dienste, die er meinem Vater erwiesen hatte. Während der Hochzeitsvorbereitungen fand die Sekretärin meines Vaters einen Ehevertrag zwischen mir und meiner Frau.” Kit said. (My engagement to Princess Chelina was designed by the Grand Duke in hopes of having more control. My father and I were unaware of his intentions when I first agreed to the union. We thought it wise for me to marry his niece because of the service he had rendered my father. During the preparations for the wedding, my father’s secretary found a marriage contract between me and my wife.)

The Prince of Prussia looked at him confusedly. “Sie wussten nicht, dass es einen solchen Vertrag gibt?” (You did not know that such contract existed?)

Kit shook his head. “Nein. Das war ein Vertrag, den ich als Junge unterschrieben habe.” (No. That was a contract I signed as a boy.)

Kit then explained carefully to his guest all that had transpired, from the signing of the contract to the days that led up to the discovery of the truth of his mother’s death. The prince listened intently to the tale, asking questions when Kit allowed them, and when it was over, he could only watch the royal family in awe and confusion.

“Verzeihen Sie, dass ich frage, aber warum bezeichnen Sie sie als Ihre Frau, wenn der Magistrat Ihre Scheidung bewilligt hat?” Prince Frederick asked him. (Forgive me for asking, but why do you call her your wife when the magistrate has approved your divorce?)

Kit looked at him directly, eyes passionate and sure. “Weil sie meine Frau in jeder wichtigen Hinsicht ist.” (Because she is my wife in every way that matters.)

That seemed to have quelled the Prussian royal’s curiosity, who only nodded in understanding.

“Ich muss Ihnen sagen, dass ich Sie dafür beneide, solch einen Edelstein zu beschaffen. Ich hätte meine Klage angeboten, wenn nur die Gesetze meines Königreichs so mild wären wie deine.” He told Kit. (I must tell you that I envy you for procuring such a gem. I would have offered my suit if only the laws of my kingdom were as lenient as yours.)

Kit said nothing to that.

Prince Frederick rose from his seat. “Ich werde in Ihrem Königreich bleiben, bis der Prozess gegen den Großherzog abgeschlossen ist. Ich werde dafür sorgen, dass er für seine Sünden bestraft wird. Darf ich in der Zwischenzeit meine liebste Freundin besuchen und sehen, wie es ihr geht?” (I will remain in your kingdom until the Grand Duke’s trial is complete. I will make sure he is punished for his sins. In the meantime, may I visit my dearest friend and see how she is doing?)

Kit stood as well, nodding once to his father and to his cousin. He led the prince to your chambers, entering once he and the Prussian prince were announced.

Chelina, who sat on one of the plush seats by the window, stood and bowed before the two princes. She had taken it upon herself to keep watch of you—her self-imposed penance for her uncle’s sins despite her being his victim as well.

“Your Royal Highness,” she addressed Prince Frederick.

“Princess, Prince Frederick wishes to see how Y/N is.” Kit told her

“She remains the same, still asleep but her fever has cooled.” Chelina replied as she cast a glance at your direction.

Prince Frederick turned to Kit as if to ask for permission. When it was given, he sat at the vacant seat beside your bed and began talking to you as though you were awake. Kit kept a watchful eye on Frederick, making sure he kept the appropriate distance from you.

“The physician is hopeful that she will be well, Kit.” Chelina told him as she passed him a cup of tea. “He thinks she will wake soon.”

Kit took the offered cup. “Thank you for watching her, Chelina.”

She smiled softly at his direction. “It is in service of a friend.”

“You were a victim as well. You must not claim his sins as yours.”

Her smile turned wistful and she turned away. “I am his sister’s daughter. Let me be ashamed for what my kin has done.”

“It is he who must repent.” Kit took a sip of the tea. “Not you. You are blameless.”

She gave him another of her grateful smiles. Kit left the Prussian Prince under the watchful eye of the princess and went about his remaining business for the day. Louis had appointed himself as his adviser for the time being while Kit took over his father’s business. They pored over countless laws and paperwork, signing and granting help to the people who needed them. Kit took to reviewing the proposals the Grand Duke had left and found that most of the funds that were to be delegated to the construction of a new village were instead being siphoned to his personal accounts. More and more of the nobleman’s deceit were being uncovered after every new proposal Kit worked on.

Come evening, he was exhausted. His princely education had not warned him that businesses went on for more than a day, that even after finishing one decree, there were three more waiting to be reviewed and signed by him. He did not complain, only finished another task before starting another. When his father had seen his diligence, he had praised him but had also told him that his health was much more important than matters of the state.

Kit walked to your chambers, finding the physician changing the dressing that had been draped on your foot. Your ankle did not look as grotesque as when he had first seen it and the swelling had gone down to what the physician deemed as “manageable.” Kit did not know what it meant but the way the physician said it assured him that you were in no more danger. He did not give any new prognosis, other than that you were bound to wake soon. The prince thanked the doctor before sitting on the seat beside your bed.

“Forgive me for being away for the day, my love. I had taken over Father’s work and his office. The kingdom is in disarray after the storm ravaged the crops and the villages. I’ve employed my mother’s plans for management in times of crises. I think you would have offered me the same advice if I had asked you.”

He smiled to himself when he took your hand in his. Yours was small in his and did not pull away when he squeezed it.

“Wake up soon, my love. I want nothing more than to see your beautiful eyes.” Kit pleaded as he placed a light kiss on the top of your hand.

He spent the rest of the night beside you, telling you of what had transpired throughout the day. He watched for every small movement, anything at all that would have told him you were to wake but you did not move. You only stayed as you were, asleep, having no idea of the fear that started to blossom in him with every moment you spent unconscious.

You did not wake that night.

The next morning, as Kit got up from spending the night in your chambers by your side, Chelina entered, holding in her hands a missive. It had been sent ahead of her parents’ arrival to tell her that the storm had delayed them and had been received by a nearby estate, only to stay there until the storm has passed.

"We must address one more concern, Kit,” Chelina said as she stood before him. “I have talked to your father about it and it is imperative that I have it with you as well.”

Kit merely raised a brow. He did not know what else there was that should concern the Zaragozan princess.

“I believe we will not marry each other.” She looked expectantly at the prince. “Our engagement was a ploy by my uncle and now that we have uncovered it, I believe there is no need to continue with it. My ideas and plans do not align with yours and we are both too stubborn to submit to one another. I do not think it a good start to any marriage.”

Her reasons were sound, if not a little illogical for people in their stature. He only shook his head. “No, I do not think it too.”

She smiled. “Finally. One thing we agree upon.”

He smiled tiredly.

“You would be free to marry whomever you wish,” she said as she cast a glance at you. “Follow your heart’s desires.”

He would need to speak with his father of that.

“They will not be happy with the broken engagement.” She said with a sigh as she turned to look at him. “After all, it was what they have travelled here for.”

“I shall talk to them. You should not shoulder all the burden your uncle has placed on us.”

Her smile was grateful. “I thank you, Kit.”

“What of you, then?” he asked.

“What of me?”

“You gave me leave to follow my heart. Would you not do the same with yours?”

Her silence—or reluctance to reply to his question—was answer enough for Kit.

“I thought you and my cousin love each other?” he asked.

She nodded forlornly and smiled sadly. “He is not a prince. My parents will only have me marry a royal.”

“He is my cousin. If I refuse to be king, he is next in line for the throne.” Kit reasoned. Louis was as good as a prince. His title may not be one but as his cousin, he had a claim to the throne.

“That will not be enough for them. And do not worry yourself on my account. I do not worry for it.” She waved a hand dismissively although the emotion on her face was far from it.

He would not want that for his friend.

“Chelina—”

“It is the consequence of our title, Kit. I am a princess. I am not given the choice to follow my own heart. It has been the same practice, done by my mother and my mother’s mother. Who am I to defy that?”

“Even if it means your happiness?” He frowned. Surely, after all the events, her parents would give her leave to do as she pleased.

“I am not allowed happiness. What I am allowed is to follow my parents’ wishes.” She sighed and took her hands in his, squeezing them. “I am thankful for your concern, Kit, truly I am, but I have resigned myself to this fate. There is nothing for me to do.”

However Kit wanted to argue, he knew the princess would not allow it. Instead, he only nodded.

“I wish you well, then, Your Royal Highness.” Kit told her sincerely.

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