Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban (2004) Dir. Alfonso Cuaron

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004) dir. Alfonso Cuaron

The Accidental Princess (Part 1)

Prince Kit x Reader

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

Word Count: ~3.4k words

Warnings: lots of ye olde words (maybe they sound pretty cringe??) period-typical misogyny?? that's it???

A/N: Hi, everyone! Yep, I am still on hiatus so updates for this one wouldn't be regular. This is supposed to be a Cinderella 2015 ff but I think the story feels too straightforward so I took some liberties with this one. I'm still using some characters and there will be new ones. It's a pretty different fic compared to Snapshot and Savior. It's a hUGE departure from it. I appreciate your comments and thoughts about this. I'd like to hear whatever it is you have to say about it: from the cringe ye olde words to the period-typical misogyny to the whole chapter if you find it confusing, etc. Not beta'd still so all mistakes are mine. Here is The Accidental Princess! (title subject to change)

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |

Once upon a time, there was a girl who accidentally married the prince.

That would have been a story to be told for ages, you thought wryly to yourself.

You had met The Brothers Grimm before during one of your travels with your father to the far away land of Prussia. They were an odd sort; old men who you would have never thought to have been the author of the short tales you loved reading as a child. There were semblances of them in their stories, if one judged a person by their looks. Stories of beautiful beginnings followed by sorrow and dread. After all, not every once upon a time ended with a happy ever after.

I wonder how they would have written my story, you thought to yourself as you stood before the king.

You had been summoned to the palace the moment your ship had docked into your home kingdom’s port. There was no preamble as to why you were wanted; they only loaded you into the carriage and had presented you to your monarch without so much as a change of clothing. You were not vain but it would do well to be wearing the proper attire when meeting the king. Instead, you had met him in your leather breeches and your silk dress shirt, which in itself was scandalous, but not as scandalous as knowing the reason why you were there.

“You see, my son is to marry the Grand Duke’s niece but we find ourselves in an unusual predicament,” said the king as he stood from his throne.

You had no voluminous skirt to tuck your hands into when you were nervous. Instead, you only clenched them at your front, holding on to them like a lifeline.

“My secretary has found a marriage certificate binding you and my son in matrimony.” The king said as he stood before you. The king was an old man, stooping now but it did not dampen the commanding aura he had about him. “You had been married to my son for twenty years.”

That would have made you a child of six when you got married but you could not remember anything as far as that. Or anything at all involving a ceremony where you and the prince had been proclaimed married. Surely, there must have been a mistake.

You cowered a little, stepping backward as discreetly as you can. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it seems I have no idea of this certificate of which you speak.”

“Insolent child!” cried the Grand Duke. He was a stocky-looking man with a shock of blond hair that extended to his jaw and a moustache that twirled on its ends. There was something antagonistic about him. But then again, it was his niece the prince was promised to and he had every right to call you names for your ignorance of the matter.

“My apologies, Grand Duke,” you curtsied.

“Tell me your name once again, child,” commanded the king.

You stood again, keeping your head low in respect for the monarch and said your name.

“If you are who you say you are, then it must be you who signed this contract.” The king waved over a footman and took the scroll from him, unravelling it for you to see.

You looked it over and stopped as you saw the familiar scrawling of your name. It was definitely by your hand when you were six. It was a mess of letters but was discernible enough for them to read your name. Beside it was Prince Kit’s inscription, no better than yours but still enough to be recognized as the kingdom’s future monarch’s writing.

The wax seal between your names brought back a dormant memory.

You watched closely as your father, the king’s diplomat, pour hot wax on the lower part of the parchment. It was a rich blue with gold flecks, a symbol of your country’s opulence. You were always curious as to why he did that ritual of pouring wax and laying his ring on top of it after having both men sign the paper. You had asked him what it was for.

“It is a promise, Y/N,” your father had replied as he took off his signet ring and placed it sigil-down on the paper.

“Like friendship, papa?” you had asked in your small, excitable voice.

Your father had chuckled. “Of a sort. This paper is a memory of that friendship with our country and this country’s king.”

“Can I do it with my friends, papa?” You watched with curious eyes, taking note of the written contents on the piece of parchment even if you were unable to read. It was no matter; your papa will teach you. You were eager to employ this newfound knowledge and practice with your future friendships.

“Of course, mon petit. I shall have to teach you how to write your name so you can sign your promise.”

You had remembered the process. First, your father took a scroll from his sheaf of papers. He signed his name first, then the ambassador. They shook hands. Your father poured hot wax and placed his sigil on the promise then placed it on a different sheaf of papers.

Oh, no.

You recalled the moment. You had visited the palace with your father and he had let you play around the grounds while he conducted business with the king. You found the Prince Kit in the garden alone and approached him with the idea of trying out your newfound way of sealing friendships. You had not realized you plucked a marriage certificate from the Great Study, because, truly, all of your father’s contracts were one and the same and you had assumed as much for all the papers. You had innocently scrawled your name, taking good care in spelling it right as your father had told you. The prince had done the same and with your father’s signet, you sealed your—and the prince’s—fate.

“You recognize it then,” said the king as he snatched the offending paper away.

“Your Majesty—”

“You ambitious girl!” cried the Grand Duke once more and you shut your mouth immediately.

“Grand Duke.” There was a warning edge to the king’s tone. He turned to you once more. “You recognize this certificate.”

“It was not my intention to bind myself in marriage to the prince, Sir.” You swallowed. “My father introduced contracts to me as a way of keeping friendship. As a child of six, I did not know of diplomacy or the legitimacies of binding contracts nor the numerous different kinds of it. I only took the paper as I had assumed all were one and the same. I signed my name and had the prince sign his and stamped it with my father’s signet that he had me hold for safekeeping. I did not know that any agreement signed by the prince and sealed with the royal stamp would be legally binding even at so young an age.”

The silence that echoed in the throne room stretched on. Your boots scraped on the marble floor and you were once again reminded that you were not fit to be presented in front of the king. Women , even common folk, were expected to be in dresses and long skirts. You shunned the article of clothing whenever you were travelling the waters, finding breeches, shirts, and practical boots better than the full hoops of the skirt that often got in the way whenever you walked down the deck of the ship. The sailors were used to seeing you in this garb and did not find it offending at all that you were not dressed like a lady but to the eyes of the king and the Grand Duke and perhaps the many a footman you had passed before entering the throne room, you looked positively bohemian.

“We will keep you in the palace, Y/N,” said the king, which made you look up at him again.

Evidently, the news shocked the Grand Duke as well because he turned to the monarch.

“We will keep you in the palace until we find a solution to this impasse.”

“Of course, Sir,” you only muttered because what else was there to say?

“Surely, you understand the delicacy of this matter. I would not have you proclaiming to the people you are the new princess—or rather, had been their princess for near two decades already.”

You were affronted but you did not show it. You had no right to show indignation towards the king.

“In here, you are contained. You shall still be free to roam the palace grounds as you please but we will not have you out of it. If so, you shall have a chaperone and we would be informed of your itinerary.”

You merely nodded. You were a creature of adventure; the very notion of being confined within palace grounds was comparable to having your wings clipped. But you had started this problem, Y/N, and you must pay for your childish ignorance, you thought to yourself.

You were to set sail with your family again to meet with more foreign dignitaries. It had been your life; travelling from one kingdom to another. You had learned of cultures and languages, of food and dance, and everything it was that you could ever beheld. Your tiny kingdom was beautiful but the world beyond held more possibilities that you never once thought was within your grasp.

Oh, how you would have wanted to walk your father’s footsteps as the kingdom’s new diplomat. You learned from the best; your father had made you his apprentice and had taught you everything he knew of his trade. People still underestimated you. It was unheard of for someone from the fairer sex to be an ambassador, so you never truly tried. You only acted as an adviser to your father within the confines of his office walls, honing your innate talent of persuasion and diplomacy.

“Since I am common folk,” you started, not realizing that you had addressed the king before he addressed you. “Your Majesty, since I am common folk, my presence in the palace will arouse suspicion.”

“It is all being taken care of. My sister’s children will be arriving soon and you shall pose as a guest with them.” He nodded to himself, satisfied with his idea. “You were merely early in your arrival.”

“I would need my trunks with me, Your Majesty. I have arrived empty-handed.”

He looked you from your hair to your boots. “Are all your clothes thus?”

You straightened. “No, Sir. This is what I wear when I am travelling the seas. I do not find it practical to wear a skirt whilst I am on deck and the tides are high.”

“Ah, yes. You travel with your father as he is one of my diplomats. How is he?” He started making his way back to his throne.

“My father is well, I thank you for asking, Your Majesty.” You took a deep breath and watched him. You wiped your palms against your leather breeches.

“You shall send for a missive for your trunks. I cannot have you leaving the palace so soon after we have talked.”

You nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“You may go.”

You curtsied again. “My king,” you genuflected at the monarch before doing the same to the Grand Duke. “Your Grace.”

You stepped backwards, keeping the front of your body towards the king as you slowly went out of the throne room. Once the doors had closed, you blew out a sigh and straightened, only to knock against someone behind you. You turned and gasped, rooted in place.

It was the prince. Prince Kit with his dark hair and intense eyes. He had grown handsome over the years, which shouldn’t surprise you because his father had been a handsome man when he was younger. Kit—were you allowed to address him as Kit in your mind?—had a set look on his face, a bit reminiscent of his father’s gaze as he watched you. Broad of shoulder and fit of body, his muscled legs were encased in tight white breeches and his coat brought out the color of his eyes. They were as blue as the sea and as clear as the sky.

Your husband. What an absurd notion!

“Steady,” he said as he held you by your arms.

You swallowed. As much as you wanted to look away, you cannot. His gaze held you, searching your eyes and quite frankly, perhaps even your soul. Even if you had nothing to hide, you were scared of the things he would find there. Like the matter of you being bound to him in marriage.

Your heart skipped a beat. It had nothing to do with you being nervous at him finding out about your accidental ploy of being married to him but more with the fact that you had never been looked at like how he was looking at you before. Your appearance was unkempt and you had not been able to properly re-braid your hair but something about his stare made you feel like you were much more beautiful than you truly look. He made you feel emotions not even the best of the world could offer and for the life of you, you didn’t know why.

Your knees buckled and you bent down in an ungraceful curtsy. “Your Highness,” you said with a shaky breath. “My apologies.”

“Ah, Kit! I thought the hunt would have run you ragged.” You heard the king as the door opened.

You felt someone grasp at your arm to pull you to your full height and away from the king and the prince. You looked at the prince once more, only to find him looking back at you as well.

Kit was, for all intents and purposes, an apprentice. His whole life he was schooled to be the next king of his father’s kingdom. He was taught to be a soldier to know of battle strategies. He had masters who taught him philosophies and history. He was knowledgeable in at least three languages because his parents had insisted he learn two more so he can converse with more people. He was, essentially, an apprentice monarch. And a king, even one still learning the trade, needed a queen.

Which brought him to the matter at hand. His father had promised his hand to the Grand Duke’s niece, a princess from Zaragoza. He had never met her before and was only sent a portrait that he and his father had looked at and deemed her beautiful. Her country was bountiful and their little territory needed to expand its borders. Marrying a princess from a rich country was the correct step in ensuring the best for the kingdom. It was what his father had done when he married Kit’s mother. It was fortunate that his parents had fallen in love despite the circumstances of how they met.

“I was not aware the Princess Chelina is arriving today,” Kit asked as he pried his eyes away from your retreating figure.

It was unusual for him to see a princess not in their finest clothes , either, especially one from a country that was advertised to him as bountiful and rich. He had no qualms, however, about seeing you in such a state. Clad in what was most likely your undergarments, you were a small person than what your portrait let on. You came only until his nose and even then, you still seemed tinier. Your legs were enclosed in buckskin leather, much like his own when he went hunting, and it made him wonder if maybe you hunted as well. You wore a dress shirt that was tucked in the waistband of your breeches and it accentuated your rounded hips. You wore none of those heeled shoes he knew ladies favored. Instead, you feet were clad in flat boots that went up to your knees and showcased your perfect calves. Albeit you were dressed inappropriately, it did not escape him that you were dressed practically. And sensually, he thought to himself.

You were beautiful in your portrait but in person, you were exquisite. The painter failed to capture the smattering of freckles across your nose or the hints of lightness on your hair. There was a small scar on the side of your cheek that he did not notice when he beheld your picture; perhaps the painter found it wise to not include the blemish lest it deterred him from making an offer of marriage to you, even if it was not his idea to be wed to you.

“Heavens, no. I would never associate myself with that–that thing.” The Grand Duke said, looking at your back in what could only be termed as disgust.

Kit raised a brow. So, you were not the princess. “I would assume that thing would have a name and a purpose?” He looked over at his father. “Father?”

“Walk with me, boy,” was all the king said. “Thank you, Grand Duke. We do not need you in this talk.”

Kit followed his father down the Hall of Portraits. He remembered his lessons of his family’s history, of the important people who had changed the laws and lives of many. King Alphonse. Queen Mariam. Queen Amalie, his mother. He knew it best not to dwell on his mother’s untimely death around his father, who he knew was still mourning her. She had left them so suddenly and they both had not been the same ever since. It did, however, brought them closer.

“Kit,” his father started as they arrived in the garden. “There is a matter I wish for you to know.”

Rarely did his father venture this far into the garden. His mother had kept a small alcove for her personal use, locked away but still kept clean by the royal gardener. Kit often went there when he needed a time for himself. His father did not.

“Yes, father?” Kit asked, watching his father closely as he sat.

“You are promised to Princess Chelina,” he said, to which Kit nodded. “But there is a small matter we must address before you wed her.”

He raised a brow. “Does she not want to be wed?”

“She wishes to be wed to you, Kit. However, we find ourselves at a loss for something you have done twenty years ago.” He patted the space beside him at the bench and Kit sat.

Twenty years ago? He would have been eight by then.

“Are we bringing up old sins, father? Because if we are, I do not remember what I had done at eight years old that would bear remembering.”

“My boy,” the king clasped his son on the shoulder. It was a fatherly touch but also that of a king, a touch that brooked no argument.

“You are already married.”

Kit frowned. Married? Surely, he has not signed anything akin to a marriage agreement.

“Married? I don’t remember meeting the Princess Chelina or signing a marriage contract.”

“It is because you are not married to the Princess of Zaragoza.” The king sighed wistfully. “You had been married for two decades, Kit.”

“Father, I must ask you to speak plainly. I’m married for two decades? And not to the Princess Chelina? Then who am I married to?”

“My boy.” The king looked over at one of the many rooms of the palace. Kit followed the line of his sight and found that he was staring at you. You, in your unusual clothes, watching the sea from your room.

“You have been married to a commoner, to Y/N Y/L/N, since you were eight.”

Y/N. The name sounded familiar to him. And then he knew. He remembered; the girl he had invited inside his mother’s secret garden and had played with under his favorite tree. You had brought a paper to him—a promise of friendship, you had said—and he signed it with no hesitation.

“Y/N is that girl you thought was the Princess Chelina, my boy. And she is your wife.”

He looked at the lone figure inside the palace again.

He was married to you.

Taking a brief pause to just say my heart is with the people of Ukraine right now, and I wish all of you well.

The Accidental Princess (Part 9)

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 face the consequences of your words and actions

Word Count: 11.6k words

Warnings: period-typical misogyny, mentions of poison and murder, i took liberties with the action of some poisons so they're not as accurate as they should be (especially for foxglove), angst, if i missed smth lmk :)

A/N: Hey everyone! Still a big thank you to everyone reading this story! I appreciate your comments and reviews of the story! Don't hesitate to drop more of them (and to reblog!) So, yeah. Here's Part 9 of TAP. Enjoy! (it's also tagged for exposure, if you see that many tags. Sorry if I bombard the tags with my story 😔 )

Main Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 |

The only time you had felt immense pain was when your horse nearly trampled you. You were a small child then, barely into your adolescent years when your father decided it was the best time for you to learn how to ride a horse. You knew those creatures were temperamental—you had seen one almost bite off a stable hand’s fingers when he was not quick to feed it—but you had not realized that even the tamest of them could have the mood of mighty, angry wave. One moment you were seated atop the horse, and the next, you were under the giant animal, with your cheek bleeding from where its hooves had come into contact.

That pain was forgettable. It was physical. It needed only a physician’s hand to mend your cheek, a bowl of hot soup from Cook to cool your chilling bones, and a month of sleep with your nursemaid in your chambers for you to forget the whole ordeal.

But this pain…

“The Magistrate has granted your divorce.”

It burrowed deep within you, laid its claim in the depths of your soul, and stayed there to fester so quickly. The bleakness that came from it cooled your body, down to the very tips of your fingers and toes. You felt very cold from within despite the warmth of the fireplace behind you. The cold gripped your lungs and each breath felt like knives to your lungs and your throat.

But despite all of this, it was the ache that made you want to lose consciousness. Your thoughts were wild. Your ears heard phantom screams of despair. Your heart, crying, breaking, crumbling… until it was no more but the hollow shell of the love that kept on fighting.

No amount of hot soup or healing salve or companionship would ever take this immense pain away. No physical solution would clear you of it. There was nothing to heal you from this damnable emotional pain.

Why now? Why did it happen when you finally allowed yourself to admit your love for your husband—

No.

He was not your husband anymore.

You were divorced.

Your marriage was dissolved. There was nothing more for you and Kit, despite telling each other you loved one another.

What you wanted for today was merely simple. You wanted a day with Kit, a day to do everything your heart desired. It was why you confessed that you were ardently in love with him. You did not want to reminisce on the day and regret not having told him of how you truly felt for him. But you did—you had—and now the world was punishing you for it. You wanted a good memory, not one that you would love and loathe all at once.

“Father—” You heard Kit say beside you.

“Miss Y/N had been instrumental in obtaining the divorce. She has given us her word that your marriage had not been consummated and thus, the Magistrate did not think twice to dissolve any union between the two of you.” The king said proudly.

You looked at Kit, at the confusion on his face, and swallowed painfully. He had no idea of what the king had asked you days past. His father had kept it from him and now…

Now you were made to be the villain for leading the prince along with your declaration of love.

You should have seen it happening. You saw the prideful look about the Grand Duke’s face, at how smug he wore it, and the relieved emotion on the king’s when you had entered the Great Study. Those in themselves would have told you that they had gotten what they had wanted.

You had been nothing but a thorn on their sides and now that they had plucked you, they were free to dispose of you.

“You shall be married immediately, of course. We shall have a contract drawn up with your name and the Princess Chelina’s—”

The voices swirled about you. They were saying words, words you knew but could not comprehend. The fire crackled too loudly. The shelves that teemed with books felt too stifling. The grandiose of the Study felt far too grand for someone who had suddenly become inconsequential.

Kit turned to you and in his eyes, you saw the disbelief in them. There was no betrayal like Louis’s had, nor was there anger. There was only confusion but also of understanding, of love and also pain.

“Why?” was all he asked.

The single word was your undoing.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you answered. “Because they asked me for it. There was nothing I could do. It was the right thing.”

“Damn the right thing!” Kit exclaimed. He gripped your arms now, pulling you closer to him, to his pained eyes, and implored of you. “Why?”

“Because I love you!” You shouted as more of your tears flowed. “Because I love you and I cannot bear the thought of your father being angry at you for loving me!”

He crushed you against him and kept your head on his heart that you heard beat furiously. You fought him off, trying your best to pry yourself from him because it hurt to be near him. It hurt that he was hurting for your fault. It was your doing, all of it was. You had caused everyone pain, including yourself.

“I love you,” you sobbed against his chest, surrendering in his embrace. “I truly do, Kit. I did it for you. I do not want you to carry the burden of your father’s anger. I do not want you to resent me for it.”

“I will never resent you,” he whispered against your hair. “I will never hate you for anything you had done or will do.”

“But you must!”

“Even if you ask me to, I will not. I will love you no matter what.”

You did not stop the wave of tears that came from you. There was no stopping the impossibly painful agony that wracked your whole body.

Was this how it was to love? Why did your father tell you it was the most wonderful thing in the world when all it did was bring you pain? Why did poets write praises of it if all you could hear were anguished cries that came from deep within you? Why did everyone say it was the best feeling in the world when all it did was hurt you in ways you could not imagine?

If you had known, you would not have allowed yourself to love. You would have stopped it in its course the moment you realized you were falling desperately in love with your husband.

No. He is no more your husband. You must stop referring to him as such.

From now on, he was your prince. The son of your monarch. The love of your life.

It was impossible to think him of as anything else but that.

You felt the pads of his thumb swipe below your eyes, wiping away the tears. His hand went to your chin to tilt your face up. You shut your eyes. You did not want to see them lest you started crying again.

“They see how I love you. I will insist that I will not marry Chelina because I want to marry you ag—”

You finally looked at him through your tears, to his own tears that pooled before his eyes. “No.”

“I will. I will continue fighting for you, for us. I—”

“Can’t you see? The world does not want us to be together! It finds a way to tear us apart!” You broke away from him, hugging yourself small, suddenly made aware of your surroundings.

You were still in the Great Study with Kit, with his father and the Grand Duke for an audience. You had bared your soul to the man you love—to the prince—for all the world to hear. They had seen what a madwoman you had become because of your heartbreak.

“But—”

You shook your head vehemently. Your knees trembled under you. With similarly shaking hands, you picked up your skirt and fled without so much as a word to the king and the prince. You sped from the Study, pushing open closed doors and people who had been too slow for your quick escape. You wanted to return to your room, to the only sanctuary you had in the palace but now did not belong in anymore. You want to be anywhere but there in the Study. Anywhere but the ache that emanated from the man you love.

You reached your chambers and you flung yourself on the bed, hoping the pillows suppressed the weeping that came from you. It was futile; the sobs that were wrenched from you echoed throughout your room. You could not stop, even if you wanted to. Could not put an end to the intense pain you were feeling.

Kit’s why rang throughout your head, asking you why you had condemned the both of you for the sake of being right.

Why did you have to be so pragmatic?

Why did you not allow yourself to have the things you wanted?

Why—

Why did you love someone you could not have?

You cried until you were empty of your tears but even then, you cried some more. You had not noticed Abigail enter your room, nor that she had led you to your bath. You only followed her lead, too consumed by your anguish to actively move on your own. Even when you wanted to thank Abigail for the extra care she took bathing you, you could not because anything that came out of your mouth was a sorry sob.

“Miss,” Abigail said when she had combed your hair.

You sat in front of your dressing table, spent from crying. You looked at your maid through the mirror, at her face that pitied you, and you gave her a weak smile.

“Yes, Abigail?”

“I know it is not in my position to ask, but I would want to know how I may help you.” She parted your hair into manageable portions and combed. “It breaks my heart to see you this… sorrowful, Miss. It is not you.”

Your eyes misted. You reached for a handkerchief and wiped the tears before they spilled. “I thank you for your concern, Abigail. Even when all we do is talk of menial things, you have become a friend to me.”

“You are far kinder than the other ladies I have served before, Miss. I have thought you a friend long before you have told me I am yours.”

You gave her a wet smile and dropped your face in your palms, crying.

“Is love supposed to hurt? Is it supposed to make you feel as though you are drowning with no salvation in sight?” You wept in your hands.

You felt Abigail’s gentle touch on the back of your head and heard her comforting murmurs. They were incoherent against your crying but you knew she meant well.

“Love is not without trials, Miss.” Abigail said when she resumed her task. “These trials, they are there for us to overcome if we truly love those that we love. We would not be moved into action if we do not deeply care for someone.”

You stayed quiet, only feeling the strokes of Abigail’s combing of your hair. You knew she had finished but she did not leave you. She remained by your side, doing repetitive tasks about you that soothed you.

“Abigail.” You called for her attention when she pulled out a dress from your trunk.

“You do not like this dress, Miss?” she asked as she showed you the garment in her hands.

It was a beautiful shade of pink, soft and innocent-looking. Your father had said it made you look like your mother whenever you wore it.

You did not say anything of the dress. “When you commented on me being the guest of the king, I had said my situation was uncommon.”

She nodded.

“It is because I am—was no other common guest of his.” You swallowed the hard lump on your throat. “I was the Prince’s wife.”

“Miss?”

You looked at the confused face of your maid and nodded. “For a while, I was the princess of the kingdom. I was married to Kit—to the Prince.”

You saw her start to drop into a deep curtsy.

You shook your head at her even though she could not see. “Please. Do not bow before me. I was the princess before. I no longer am, not anymore.”

“What has happened, Mi—Your Royal Highness? Is this why you weep?”

You nodded. You thought more tears would come but you had run dry. Despite wanting to keep on lamenting, you produced no more tears for your pitiful situation.

“I was here so the king may grant me and the prince a divorce. He has proved successful. My marriage is no more.” You fiddled with your hands, looking down on them on your lap. “I thought it would be an easy task. I thought I would not fall for my husband but I had. And when I freely admitted to myself and to him that I was undeniably in love with him, our divorce had been granted.”

“Oh, Miss.”

You looked at her. “I have never loved like I had with him, Abigail. I doubt I would ever love again.”

“I am sorry.”

You nodded sorrowfully. “So am I.”

Abigail decided it was for the best that you do not come down for dinner, what with your heartache and the idea of seeing Kit again would send you in a spiral of anguish and hurt. She had helped you into your sleeping garments and had put it upon herself to bring your dinner. When she was about to go, there was a knock on your door.

“Pet? I am here to bring you down to dinner.” Louis said from the other side of it.

“She shall be dining in her room, Your Grace.” Abigail said when she cracked the door wide enough to address your friend.

“The king demands that she come with us.”

“She is not well, Your Grace. She—”

“What’s wrong? Did she catch a cold?” Louis asked, concern evident in his voice. “Let me have a look at her.”

You were sat on your bed, helpless, when Abigail opened the door for Louis to enter. One look at you and he immediately crossed your room to sit beside you on your bed.

“Pet. What happened?” He took your hand in his and squeezed comfortingly.

“It is done, Louis.” You said, unfeeling. “Kit and I are no more.” You avoided looking into his eyes, at the sympathetic sorrow you would find there. You were a miserable sight, you knew of that, but you did not need reminding every now and then.

The moment you were engulfed in his arms, you once again erupted into tears. Your sobs were silent now but it did not mean the pain lessened. The intensity was one and the same and no matter how many tears you had cried, you knew the pain would remain.

You felt Louis’s lips brush against your temple before he pulled away to look into your eyes.

“I will tell the king that you are unwell.” He truly looked concerned. It was a wonder why you could not love Louis, who worried for your well-being and would rather he marry you to save you from a desolate fate without expecting much in return.

You shook your head. “No. I must come down if he demands it. I had been the subject of his ire before. I do not want it upon me again.”

“Are you sure, pet? He would be understanding—”

“I am sure, Louis. Let me just change into something suitable and we shall be down.”

Your words brooked no argument from the duke. When he left, you dressed albeit reluctantly. You did not care for your appearance but your maid made you look presentable despite the simple dress she had put you in. She replaced your bracelet on your wrist and worked on a hairstyle that was not quite elaborate nor quite simple. Abigail prolonged your getting ready for dinner, taking as much time as she could in a task that could be done so quick. You had assured her that you would be all right to be in his presence once again but even that declaration did not sound convincing to your ears.

You left your room in the arm of the duke and when you arrived at the dining room, there was an air of somberness about the place. The dark mood came from Kit and the Princess Chelina, both of whom are sat before each other on each side of the king. The Grand Duke was the only one who looked triumphant and gleeful, and he watched you with his hawkish stare that only made you shiver in disgust.

He had won in his suit to have you divorced from the prince. He wore it proudly on his face.

Louis pulled a seat for you beside him. You kept your head down as you sat, feeling the intensity of Kit’s eyes upon you. You could not face him, not so soon after both of your worlds crumbled by a mere declaration.

Dinner was a cheerless affair, despite the number of different foods on the table. There were more than the usual dishes, even special ones that looked foreign. It was, obviously, for the celebration of yours and the prince’s separation. The conversation was mundane and held no importance other than just to pass the time. Even Louis had no input to a topic he was knowledgeable of.

“The wedding date has been settled,” the king announced after some time. You knew it was directed at you.

You only heard the clanging of the utensils against the plates.

“You must attend, Miss Y/N.”

You froze in stirring your soup and looked up at the king, eyes passing over the princess. Princess Chelina’s face held pain—for you or for her, you did not know.

“Father—” There was an icy tone in Kit’s voice.

“Her father will attend. I shall be sending an invitation to him.” The king said nonchalantly. “It should be just right that she attend her future monarchs’ weddings, don’t you think?”

“Just so,” agreed the Grand Duke with a happy disposition.

“I have to ensure your attendance, Miss Y/N. You shall be kept here until the wedding. It will not be for another two weeks, or until the arrival of Princess Chelina’s parents.” The king’s words were unfeeling and commanding.

You did not know when you had started to develop a dislike for the king but it was made apparent in the way you aggressively stirred your soup.

“Shall we expect you at the wedding, child?” the monarch asked.

You gave a tight nod. “Yes, Your Majesty.” You said, clenching the spoon in your hand.

“Father, there is no need for you to be crass—”

“My mind is made, Kit.” The king said.

Dinner continued in silence, sometimes interrupted by scraping utensils and drinks being poured. No one else spoke since the king’s declaration that you remain in the palace until Kit’s wedding. The sad look was still on the princess’s face, Kit’s still held anguish in his and Louis—dear, sweet Louis—his face was merely blank. The four of you, you knew, had your hearts broken. Because of you.

“Father?”

You looked up again from your plate, and to the king who started to go puce in the face from the silent coughing he was doing. When he kept on coughing and had started to turn into a dangerous shade of blue, you knew he was choking.

“Your Majesty!” You exclaimed.

Your chair fell with a loud thud as you rose and rushed to the man’s side. You started to deliver blows on his back in attempt to dislodge whatever it was that blocked his throat. You gave blow by blow but he did not relent, still coughing and choking.

“Call the physician!” You heard Kit order.

Your eyes drifted on to the monarch’s plate to see how big a bite he had taken of the offending food when you saw the array of vegetables on it. His fork still speared the half-eaten parsnip but it was not that that caught your attention. It was the stem beside it; a green stem with purple splotches that seemed familiar to you. Your mind raced with possibilities of what that stem was and froze when you realized what it was.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but this is so I could save you.” You said to the coughing man before you plunged two of your fingers in his mouth.

“Y/N!” You heard people exclaim.

You paid them no heed, groping down the king’s throat in an attempt to make him vomit what he had eaten. Your other hand went to your waist, to where you usually kept the vials of emetic about you but you could not feel the pouch.

“Louis!” You called. “In my dresser table, there is a pink pouch. There should be two vials inside! Bring them to me!”

Hurried feet ran out of the dining room.

The king’s mouth clamped around your hand but you did not pull away despite how painful his teeth were against your skin. You still swirled your fingers about, hoping to induce him to retch.

“Remove your hand from his mouth at once!” The Grand Duke exclaimed.

You ignored the nobleman. To the others in the room, you ordered: “Get me mustard and castor oil from the kitchen! Quickly!”

Your fingers grazed the king’s uvula and you felt the king’s shoulders rise in preparation to retch.

“What are you standing there for?” Kit’s voice rang across the silent room. “Get her what she needs!”

You continued your ministrations to try to get the king to vomit but he kept at it. You were worried you were too late because he did not seem to want to throw up the poisonous root crop.

“Pet!”

You looked up to see Louis hand you your pouch. You pulled away from the king’s mouth. You hurriedly took it and pulled out the emetic, removing its stopper and poured its contents down the king’s throat.

Its effects were immediate. The moment the last drop of the emetic entered the king’s mouth, he started retching. You stepped away just in time for him to vomit. Chewed food spread on the dining room floor and by your feet. The king fell forward as he continued retching, expelling the contents of his stomach continuously.

“What did you do to the king!” The nobleman demanded.

You looked up to see him charging at you. You started backing away but Louis had blocked the man from nearing you. You peered from his shoulder, at the man whose face had been triumphant before but now was angry and irate.

“You will pay for what you did to the king!” he shouted.

“Your Majesty!”

You looked to see a new man enter—the physician, judging from the medical bag he brought with him—and near the king. The monarch had stopped vomiting and was held up by his son. His mouth was agape and he breathed heavily and noisily, tired from regurgitating the many a food he had taken.

“What has happened?” The physician asked as he examined the king.

“That woman forced her hand down the king’s throat!” The Grand Duke cried, pointing an accusatory finger at you behind Louis.

You shrunk behind Louis, away from the nobleman who suddenly seemed frightening to you.

“Will he be all right?” Kit asked.

“If he was not made to vomit, he would have choked and possibly have died.” The physician said as he assessed the king’s stomach contents that he had just retched.

“We must bring him to his chambers for a thorough examination.” The doctor declared. He turned to Louis but he addressed you. “Miss, I may need you to come with me. I may have a need to examine your hand if the king had grazed you with his teeth.”

It was only then that you were made aware of the raw flesh of your knuckles, on where the king had suddenly bit on you to make you stop. You looked at your hand, at the blood that oozed from tiny sites where his teeth had punctured your skin, and you hissed when you touched it.

“Are you all right, pet?” Louis asked, now having turned to you to take your hand.

“My hand is quite painful,” you said, watching as the footmen carried the king out of the dining room. The physician and Kit followed behind them.

Louis wrapped his kerchief lightly around your knuckles. He placed your hand gently on his arm and led you away from the dining room. You passed by the Grand Duke, saw his fiery gaze but shivered at the cold it sent your way.

It was hemlock. The purple splotches on the stem were undeniable of the plant. It looked similar to edible parsnips that it was almost impossible to tell them apart if not for the stem beside it.

You thought the nobleman bought the hemlock for you. You thought he was to poison you. Perhaps he still was, you thought to yourself. You had been too focused on your soup that you did not bother to eat anything else. If you had eaten the vegetable dish or if you hadn’t been aware of what the plant looked like, you would have been the victim and not the king.

You shivered visibly. You felt Louis’s arm draw you closer. He turned at you.

“Are you cold, Y/N?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Just shaken from the events.” You told him but did not attempt to give him a smile of assurance.

You stood by the door of the king’s chambers, waiting for the physician. Louis did not leave you; he kept you company while you waited. You worried for the king. You hoped your efforts were not in vain or else the Grand Duke would have succeeded. In what, you were too afraid to find out.

The doors opened and the doctor called for you inside the room. You gave Louis a weak smile, assured him that you would find your way back to your chambers on your own so he may rest. He reluctantly left you but not before telling you he would talk to you first thing in the morning to bring you down for breakfast.

You stepped into the king’s magnificent room and to the small table the physician had laid claim to put upon his instruments. You saw the king in his bed, looking so frail and small and unlike the great and powerful monarch that he was. On his bed, he was dwarfed by the sheer number of pillows and blankets that were there to support him. Kit sat by him, looking over his father in concern.

“Miss, I will have you here, if you please.” The man said.

You walked to his little worktable and presented your wounded hand.

“Will he be all right?” you asked as the man unwrapped your knuckles.

“I have given him a sedative so he may sleep the night. He shall be better when he wakes tomorrow.” he replied.

You watched him dab a cloth drenched in ointment. You drew back your hand slightly, at the sting that came with each dab.

“Perhaps you can answer my question as to the contents of the vial that I had seen on the table,” he murmured as he re-wrapped your hand.

“The vial?” you asked innocently.

“His breath smelt of an emetic. I assume you had been the one responsible for it.”

You bit on the inside of your cheek and nodded. “My efforts to make him retch were proving futile. The emetic helped.”

“What made you do so, if I may ask?”

You looked at the doctor, at his kindly eyes. There was no suspicious air about him but you were still cautious. Rather than answering him, you asked him a question.

“Sir, if I may ask you, had you been the physician who examined Queen Amalie before her death?” you asked.

“Not I, Miss. It had been a different physician. Why do you ask?”

You shook your head at him. “It is nothing. I am merely curious.” You cleared your throat and looked at the king. “I do not know what was in the vial but I was told it was an emetic. I thought it the best way to make the king vomit.”

“But why? You would have landed blows on his back and that would have worked as effectively.”

“I had but it did not do anything.”

“I see.”

“Sir,” you said as you cradled your hand close to you. “Might I ask of you to remain in the king’s chambers? I am… worried something might happen to him.”

The man frowned. “Worried? Why so?”

“Just…” You licked your lips, thinking of a lie that sounded credible to the man. “If the monarch passes, it shall put the kingdom in an uproar. I do not think we are prepared should an event as such happen so suddenly tonight.”

The man considered your words. You turned to Kit, watched him as he kept vigil beside his father. All the time you had seen and known the prince, he was always moved with an assurance of a strong, smart man. To see him in this child-like state, beside his sickly father, was new to you. It broke your already broken heart to see him look so hopeless and helpless.

“Thank you for your service, Sir,” you said to the man when he made no move to answer your request. If he would not do as you asked, you knew you could ask of Louis to do it. Although he was not particularly close with his uncle, he would do so for the future of the kingdom.

You gave the physician a smile, curtsied, and turned to go. Footsteps followed you as you headed out of the king’s chambers and you turned to see the prince following you.

“Y/N,” Kit called gently. He touched your injured hand and held it in his gingerly. “Are you all right?”

Your lips quivered. Scenting his familiar, homey smell, you allowed yourself to cry as the events that had happened earlier that night finally registered to you. Kit wrapped his arms around you tightly, rubbing your back, soothing you as you clutched him and cried against his chest.

You had been so close to your death had you not been too engrossed in your heartache. Instead, the unwitting victim had been the king. The Grand Duke was vile and evil and sinister and he must be held accountable for all of his actions. It was no time to be a coward. You had to tell Kit of your findings and your investigation.

“Kit—”

“Pardon me, Your Royal Highness, but the Duke of Granville requests Miss Y/N’s presence in the library immediately.” A footman said from behind you.

You broke free from Kit’s embrace and shivered at the sudden coldness you felt at the absence of his arms. You looked up at his sad, regretful face and it took you all of your strength to not break down in front of him. His father was weak and needed him. If you cried some more, you knew it would break him as well.

“I must go,” you said, thinking that you would return to Kit and tell him after you had met with Louis, and followed the footman without another word.

The day had been very eventful. Not only were you physically exhausted from traveling from your father’s, but you were also drained of all emotions and quite worried for the health of the king. The prospect of lying in your bed until Kit’s wedding day had suddenly become too enticing for you. You did not want to participate in any other event that had you out of your room. Perhaps, if you asked nicely, Abigail would make excuses for you so you could remain in the comforts of your chambers.

You entered the library quietly and walked about it, looking for Louis in between the shelves.

“Louis?” you called gently. “Is something wrong?”

But instead, someone else appeared from behind the mahogany bookcase.

The Grand Duke stalked over to you, predatory in the way that he walked and watched you. There was an air of danger about him and the sweat that dripped on your back did not come from the heat of the fireplace.

“You had been nothing but trouble the moment you set foot inside the palace,” said the man. He set down a crystal vial on the table and looked at you pointedly.

You straightened your back and displayed an air of ignorance. He knew the contents of the vial. Of course, he did. The Grand Duke was intelligent. It took more than sheer luck for the man to be successful in his nefarious ways.

“How did you know?” he asked.

“Know—know what, Your Grace?” you inquired, stepping back to be closer to the door. You did not like the way he sneered at you. It was different from before. This time, he held contempt in his face.

He scoffed. The sound made the hair on your arms raise on their ends.

“Don’t mock me. You’re not stupid. You’ve proven yourself to be smart when you knew immediately that the king had been poisoned.” At your scandalized look, he scoffed yet again. “You take scandal in that? You knew it was hemlock when you asked for mustard and castor oil. How did you know?”

When you didn’t immediately answer, he boomed: “How!”

You flinched, whole body reacting to his loud request. Your knees shook but unlike before, when they trembled because of your heartbreak, they now knocked together in fear. You felt alert but not all at once. You were scared of the man.

“Herbology book!” You blurted in fright. “I saw it on the herbology book you told me to read.”

His brow raised minutely, appearing impressed before his face returned to that sinister mask he so often wore. “Had I known you were clever, I would’ve made you find ways to divorce yourself from the prince. You would have saved us a lot of time.”

You backed slowly, steps small as you made your way to the door.

“But that is done now. My niece will marry the prince. I will control him when he takes over the throne. And you,” he paused to look at you, sneering. “I have to dispose of you like I did with that stupid Queen Amalie. You know too much now. I cannot have you alive.”

You did not know it was possible for your blood to run cold in your veins. It did at the admission of the nobleman that he killed the queen. Your breath stopped in your lungs and all you could do was look at him with an expression of both shock and horror.

But the Grand Duke mistook your shock for confusion. He swelled with obvious pride at his actions, the very same one that caused the untimely death of the queen.

"Oh, yes,” he said with a vicious, victorious smile. “I killed her.”

Your knees buckled under you and your steps faltered. He had no remorse in his voice, none whatsoever that indicated he regretted what he had done. And why would he, when he had been ready to repeat his action towards the king.

“And no one has suspected a thing.” He peered at you in a way that made your skin crawl. “Unless you had, you smart, ambitious girl.”

He advanced to you and grabbed your chin painfully in his hands. He forced you to look at him, in his eyes that were demented and angry.

“What do you know!” he demanded, crushing your jaw in his hand.

You cried out in pain and grabbed at his hand but you refused to tell him everything you had found out. If you spoke, he would make quick his killing of you, you knew as much.

“So now you don’t speak? When I demand that you do?” He pulled you impossibly closer to him, until you could feel his breath against your face.

Your heart thudded wildly in your chest. Your palms felt sweaty out of fear. You wanted to draw back in derision but he held you in a vise. You stayed as still as you could, hoping, praying that this would end soon.

“Well, if you do not want to talk, let me tell you, then, how I killed Queen Amalie. After all, it had been a while since I relived my greatest success.”

He casted you aside forcefully. You collided against the wall and fell in a heap on the floor, afraid to move lest he attacked you. You watched as he walked proudly about the library, head held high in reminisce.

“She was a simple target, you see.” He started. “Quite easy to eliminate. Shower her with gifts and you will be in her good graces.”

You swallowed the bile that rose to your throat. He had given her the poisonous plants and the books about them in hopes of gaining her confidence so he could kill her. Such vile—monster he was!

“So I gave her flowers and books from my country. She loved those ‘pretty flowers,’ as how she called them, and that gave me an idea. What if the very thing she loved, killed her? So I studied the beautiful plants and found some that were not native to this kingdom, some that were pretty enough for her to put in her garden but quite poisonous to kill her.”

He turned to you with a wicked smile. “And it had been so easy to slip those herbs in her tea. People are so easily bought with money and power. I had bribed many people to do my bidding, including the footman who lied and called for you. Servants are so simple-minded, I find.”

You looked at him in horror as he proved all of your suspicions correct. You did not know whether to rejoice for uncovering the truth or to be afraid of your fate. Your simple conjecture over the poisoned tea leaves proved to be right. Of course Queen Amalie would not have personally added those leaves to her tea, especially if she knew what they were. Your thoughts were running wild with more theories you wished to uncover. But instead, you only sat there in fear.

“And when the perfect moment presented itself, I did what I had to do.”

He smiled proudly at you. Your stomach rolled at how disgusting he looked.

“She felt faint from the heat after she had spent all morning in her gardens. And then they gave her the poisoned tea as refreshment and she drank all of it. No one ever thought to check twice on her tea because everyone had immediately thought the sun was the culprit for her delirium.”

There was an inquisitive look about his face now but it did not tamper down the menacing air about him.

“Sometimes, I wonder if it was my success. I had merely placed the herb in her drink but it was by her hand that she killed herself. Thirsty woman, drinking poison like it was nectar from the gods.” His smile was slick and disgusting.

“Why?” you rasped. It escaped your mouth even before you could stop yourself.

He turned to you with a crazed gleam in his eyes. “Because I can.”

You stopped breathing altogether.

That was it?

That was why he killed someone so beautiful and intelligent?

Because he could?

You had never met such foul, vile man in all your life!

You felt tears pool at your eyes at the idea that this man, this—villain, exercised power over people just because he could! Because it was innate in him that he was ruthless and evil and disgusting!

“Tears for the queen?” he mocked as he bent down to meet your eyes. “Soon, those tears will be for yourself if you do not tell me what you know.”

Your body shuddered. Your mouth stayed locked in fear for the man who you knew would make good of his threats.

“It’s your turn to speak now, girl. You’ve stayed silent long enough.”

Your head shook on its own volition. You did not have control of your body anymore.

“Pretty bracelet,” he suddenly said and grasped your wrist, bringing you even closer to him. You tried to shrink back but you could not, not with the way he held on to you. “Could it be the same one you wore to the square when I saw you spy on me?”

You stopped, recalling the day you saw him come out of the apothecary. That had been the same day Princess Chelina bought the bracelet for you. “I did not spy on you—” you told him weakly.

“I saw you! Do not insult my intelligence by denying you weren’t there!”

You gasped when he slapped you. It sent your whole body against the wall once more. This time, you hit your head hard, letting out a groan of pain upon impact. You tasted a bit of blood from your cut cheek.

“Tell me what you know! If you do not, I will kill everyone you love,” he threatened. “Including your beloved prince.”

You blinked away the haziness of your head. The force of your impact upon the wall made your head throb. You could not think properly but there was one thing you were sure of: he would make good of his threats. The Grand Duke, insane as he was, would carry out his promises without a moment’s hesitation.

So, you lied. You could not give away the information you had gathered just because he demanded it. He would come for the people you had spoken to and your investigation would be all for naught. You would not let him win again.

“I know nothing!” You gasped. “I only thought the king choked! I did not know anything about the queen!"

“Lies!” He slapped you again, making you cry out when it sent you to the wall again. “You had an emetic! You were ready for it!”

You shook your head, the action making you nauseous. Your head had been abused for too long. All you had wanted was to lay down in your chambers to sleep.

“I did not know! I swear to you, I do not know anything! I only thought the king choked! I did not know anything of the queen’s death! Please! Spare me!”

Your tears spilled now. Your head pulsated against your temples. You could not move. Pain assaulted you inside and out but you had to keep strong. For Kit. For the king. For yourself.

“Insolent girl! Do you think I will let you live after I had told you how I killed the queen?” He spat.

He squatted before you. The sigh that came from the Grand Duke was filled with frustration.

“I thought you were a worthy adversary to me. You’re only a slip of a girl who had been in places at the most opportune of times. You must know I will take no satisfaction in killing you.”

From the periphery of your vision, you saw his fist raise. Pain erupted on both sides of your head before everything turned dark.

Kit never thought he would watch his father come close to the brink of death.

He had always been a formidable figure, too strong for his opponents in and out of war. He wielded his title and power with a majesty Kit had not seen in any other. Even in his old age, he commanded people with the same might as he had when he had been much younger and all obeyed his orders. Now, that seemed like a distant past. Because on the bed before Kit was a shadow of the man he had admired.

Even with his father’s failing health, it never occurred to Kit that a simple moment may be his father’s last. Yes, he had been angry with him for forcing you to remain in the palace to watch his marriage to the Princess Chelina but he did not wish ill upon him. He only wanted him to stop his demands and to leave you be. And then he choked on a vegetable and you came in to save him from it, even when he had been rude to you.

It scared Kit. He knew he was to become king soon but he did not realize it was much sooner than he thought. If you had not saved his father, he would have been pulled into signing another marriage contract so he may ascend the throne as king.

“Your Royal Highness, you must break your fast,” said the physician.

The man had stayed throughout the night, watching and examining every small movement from the king. He had only been gone for a brief while—to examine what had happened in the dining room, the man said—and when he returned, he kept a more watchful eye on the ailing monarch if he was not writing in his book.

Kit did not ask what the man had found. He saw what had happened. His father choked on an unassuming vegetable before you came in to save him.

The prince looked at the clock, finding it still too early for the other occupants of the palace to be awake and to have breakfast. He knew the man only worried for his health since he had not slept after what had transpired last night.

“No one will stay to look after him,” he told the physician as he turned to his father once more.

“I will not leave him until you return, Your Royal Highness.” The physician planted himself by the table he took for his medical materials. “I shall inform you if he awakes, if you so wish.”

With this, Kit nodded and stood. “You may ask a footman to bring you your meal, Sir.”

He left for the breakfast hall and found it empty. He took his breakfast alone and lingered there, reflecting on everything that had happened the day before.

The quick change of events reminded him of the weather in his tiny kingdom. Yesterday, in the morning, he had been full of hope and the sun reflected his mood, shining so brightly. Now, after all of the events that took place, the day was as gloomy as his humors. The rain even pattered against the glass window of the palace, mimicking the way his dark thoughts tumbled around his mind.

He had not been given a chance to fully comprehend his father’s devastating words. After he told him that he had been freed of his marriage to you, it was pronounced that his wedding to the Princess Chelina were to happen immediately. His mother, had she been alive, would have scolded her husband for the crass way he delivered the news. Kit understood the urgency but his father should have realized that he was his son and he was not transactional just because he was king.

Kit looked up from his musings to see his cousin enter the breakfast hall so late. Louis did not look like he had had any sleep at all.

“Cousin,” Louis said by way of greeting.

The prince only nodded.

The whole palace felt eerily still despite the turmoil of the weather outside.

“Has Y/N come down?” Louis asked.

Kit shook his head in reply.

“That’s rather odd.” he remarked.

He looked at his cousin, frowning. “Why?”

“I went by her room and she did not answer when I knocked. I thought she had gone ahead of me to breakfast.”

“She has not come by at all.” he supplied. He took a sip of his tea—different in taste from the one you were said to make—and sighed. “You asked for her last night. I figured you were the last person to see her before she returned to her room.”

To this, his cousin shook his head. “I didn’t ask for her last night. I left her after I delivered her to the physician.”

“You asked to meet with her in the library.” Kit insisted.

“Kit, while I am sure the flurry of last night had us all in a frenzy, I recall clearly that I did not ask to meet her in the library.” Louis drank his tea before continuing. “And if I did indeed meet with her, it would be in her room because she had been tired from the day’s events and she needed her rest.”

“But I am quite sure—”

“So am I.” Louis said with finality.

“She couldn’t have left.” Kit proclaimed but it was more to himself. If his cousin was adamant that he did not meet with you and your chambers were empty of you so early in the day, where have you gone?

“Perhaps she is just about the gardens?” the duke suggested before turning to the window to see that the wind had picked up and the rain had become a bit of a storm.

“I don’t think she is.” Kit frowned and worry started to bloom in his chest.

It seemed unnatural that you were to leave so suddenly, and in the night. And if you had, you would have taken the carriage because you did not ride horseback as he had not taught you yet.

He waved over a footman and asked for the status of the horses, if any had been taken out some time in the night or if any of the carriages had been used at all. When the footman arrived and replied in the negative, Kit was up on his feet in worry.

He heard his cousin command some of the footmen to go look for you around the palace.

“She will be found, Kit. She promised your father that she would remain here and she would do it.” Louis assured. “Y/N keeps her word.”

Kit could only nod. The worry had changed into dread when the footmen, and even Captain Thibault, had arrived to tell them that you were not found anywhere in the palace.

“We’ve searched high and low, Your Royal Highness,” Thibault said. “We even asked for Abigail’s help to search her room.”

“Was she in her room all this time?” Louis asked.

“No, Your Grace. Her bed was still exactly as how Abigail had made it when she had left for dinner, she said. She hadn’t gone in to remake it because she had not been summoned to.” Thibault frowned. “I wish I was wrong in saying this but I do not think she returned to her chambers.”

Kit looked at his friend sharply. “She couldn’t have just vanished.” He said slowly.

“Of course,” Thibault nodded, although he looked unsure.

“We will find her, Cousin. Do not fret.” Louis said as he stood. “I will devote my time to do so.”

“My men and I shall assist you in anyway we can, Your Grace,” Thibault told him.

“Thank you, good man. I will take command of five of your men to come with me while I search the gardens for her.”

Kit returned to his seat and watched as his cousin left, leaving him and his friend inside the dining hall.

“Do not lose heart, Kit. We will find her.” The Captain said with as much positivity as he could muster on the matter. “How is the king?”

“He is still asleep when I left. I would assume nothing has changed since the physician has not come to me with news.” Kit drank his tea distractedly.

“Then perhaps you should sleep.” When he was ready to protest, Thibault stopped him. “It will not do well for you to look like that when your father awakes. Or when we find your wife.”

At this, Kit sighed. “She is not my wife anymore, Thibault. The divorce has been granted.”

“I’m sorry,” was all the Captain could say.

Kit rose from his seat. “So am I.”

“Do you think that is the reason she is gone?” he asked.

The prince shook his head. “Y/N does what is right. My father asked of her to stay and I know she will honor her promise because that is who she is.” He swallowed painfully. “Even if it hurts her.”

He did not glance back to see his friend’s reaction but he knew he pitied him. He headed for his father’s study, thinking it best to occupy his thoughts with matters of the kingdom. His father must have left some other business for Kit to look at, other than those of his impending wedding and marriage to the princess. He could take care of those matters himself, he thought surly.

He entered the Study, finding the Grand Duke seated by his table.

“Your Royal Highness. How is your father?” he asked as he bowed.

The man had not been at breakfast, despite how early Kit had been in the hall. He gave the man a singular nod, heading straight to his father’s desk to gather his papers.

“He is well,” Kit answered. He took the papers from his father’s to bring to his table. As he set it down, he saw a letter addressed to him leaning against his inkpot. He picked it up, broke the wax seal and read through its contents.

Your Royal Highness,

I have fled the palace. Do not come looking for me for your efforts will be futile. I do not love you anymore. I do not want to be found by you. I do not want to be reminded of our brief marriage. You must marry Chelina. Your father wishes that you do and you must follow him.

All the best,

Y/N Y/L/N

He read and reread the letter, unbelieving of the words you had written down on the piece of paper he held in his hands. You had fled the palace because you did not want to be reminded of your marriage to him. You wanted him to marry Chelina because his father had told him to.

Kit knew you followed orders but this letter—this offending piece of paper—all but told him you wanted to rid yourself from him.

He could scarcely believe it.

You had confessed your love, only to take it back and flee at the first sight of trouble.

He read the letter again to the point of memorizing the sentences. Your words rang through his head, harsh, stinging echoes like how the rain pelted against the window.

He worked on his father’s papers with a distracted mind, often returning to the day before when you had returned his kiss. He did not know you were capricious in your feelings for him. One minute, you decided to confess your love for him. The next, you had fled him because you did not love him. It seemed… unnatural. It did not seem like you.

But the proof was in the paper. You had written your sentiments. You did not want to be found. Kit loved you more than enough to honor your wishes, even if he loathed them.

“Are there businesses to be made of the mines, Your Royal Highness?” The Grand Duke asked as he stood from his table.

Kit looked over at his worktable, at his mother’s proposals and his father’s drafts. The mines had been the singular thing on his father’s mind for the past week. He and the Grand Duke had been adamant in selling it. Kit kept prolonging the sale because he did not think it the best move for it.

“Nothing from his papers. We shall not move until I had spoken with my father,” Kit said. His eyes flitted on your missive once more.

“The mines have been stagnant. It would do well for them to be sold to the highest bidder—”

The prince looked up at his father’s adviser and frowned. “I heard you, Your Grace, but you must understand that this is a matter only the king can handle. I am sure the bidder will not mind waiting for a few more days until my father could come to a conclusion.”

The man looked chastised. Kit noticed the tick in his jaw as he nodded.

“Of course, Your Royal Highness,” was all he said before he returned to his papers.

Kit worked on his mother’s proposal for a while but his mind kept coming back to your letter. It was futile to continue with his work when your words plagued him. He stood from his desk, taking the letter with him, and made his way to find his cousin. Louis was adamant to find you. He would not want you to loathe his cousin too, especially since you both considered each other as dear friends.

He found his cousin just coming in from the gardens, drenched from the rain.

“Louis, Y/N does not wish to be found,” he said without preamble nor explanation. Nor did he say it with feeling.

The duke frowned, shrugging off his soaked outer coat to pass to a servant. “So you’ve found her?”

“No. I found a letter from her. She fled because she does not love me anymore. She wants me to marry the Princess Chelina because father wishes that I do.”

Louis frowned. “And where is this letter?” he asked.

He gave the letter to his cousin, watching as the duke read it. His face was skeptical when he turned to the prince.

“No,” was all the duke said. “This couldn’t be by her.”

Louis started towards the direction of his chambers, quick in his strides as he took two steps at a time. Kit followed suit, confused as to why his cousin would think it was not by your hand. You had signed your name; that would have been proof enough that it was by you.

He entered Louis’s chambers, watching him as he rummaged through his coats.

“What do you mean it couldn’t be by her?” Kit finally asked. “She signed her name on the letter.”

“Yes, she did,” Louis said as he took another coat and plunged his hands in its pockets. “And it is by her hand but it does not sound like her. It does not even seem to smell like her.”

“I beg your pardon?” Kit exclaimed. He knew his cousin was maddening but he did not take him for a madman.

Louis sighed before looking at his cousin pointedly. “I had been in correspondence with your wife for nearly a decade, Cousin. Trust me when I say this letter does not smell of her. All of her stationery smell of lemon and lavender—Lavender!”

The duke turned over the letter in his hand, to the wax seal that was devoid of the flower.

“This is not her letter!” Louis exclaimed. “Y/N always seals her missives with a lavender. Always. It is like her signet.”

“Perhaps she was in a hurry to leave,” Kit supplied, although he himself was unsure why he had said that.

“Even if the missive is unimportant, she still seals them with it. It is what makes her letters smell of lavender and lemon.” Louis sniffed at the paper and frowned. “This did not come from her desk.”

“Again, it could have come from the library where you saw her last—”

“Kit,” the duke sighed. “Cousin, I know you refuse to believe me that I did not meet with her in the library yesterday but you have to trust me about this letter. Whilst you are her husband, I am her dearest friend whom she had been writing to for ten years. I have a cache of her letters I keep in Granville. I know when I am faced with a letter penned by my friend.”

The prince conceded, nodding mutely. Louis continued to do as before, grabbing and throwing kerchiefs. It took him a while before he pulled out a hefty letter that was sealed with wax and a sprig of lavender.

Louis showed it to his cousin. “She had given me this a week past. She told me to read it only when she had gone.”

Kit looked at the letter, at the obvious sprig of lavender that was embedded in the blue and gold seal. His cousin thrust it against his nose and he was assaulted with the scent of lavender and lemon. Your scent. Then he remembered the very first day he met you, that you mentioned you always sealed your letters with lavender sprigs in your seal.

He had been too pained by the events and the contents of that faux letter to think clearly.

Louis broke off the seal and laid it open, only for it to come blank. Kit said as much.

“It’s a secret missive,” was all the duke said.

He neared a candle, lit it, and ran the first of the papers over it. In time, letters and words appeared.

“She writes with lemon juice. It only appears to the receiver who knows what to do when given such a letter,” Louis said as he did the same for the next pages. “She only does this when she writes something that is a secret. Often times, she writes of scandal she hears in some court. She is not one for gossip but she does write to me of it because I have been… connected to her subject in some way.”

On any other occasion, Kit would have smiled at his cousin’s fond memory of you.

When all the words had been made to appear, they took to reading the letter.

To reader:

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

I am suspicious of the instances of her death that I took it upon myself to further investigate what had happened that day. Here are the findings that I have unearthed:

1. The Queen had apparently concocted her own tea blend with the use of Digitalis purpurea. The plant Digitalis is commonly known as foxglove and is a well-known poison. Why the queen had knowingly added it to her own tea had been a point of question for me for a physician would be needed to give a proper measurement for it not to be poisonous (as it is also a medicinal herb). It appeared that no physician had been summoned because there was an abundance of the leaves and petals, enough to be considered dangerous to the drinkers.

2. Another jar of tea leaves had Aconitum napellus in them. Aconitum, commonly known as monkshood or wolfsbane, is another poison. It cannot be easily mistaken for something else because the plant has distinct markings. I believe the addition of it to the tea had also been deliberate.

3. The canisters of tea leaves in the kitchen had been left unlabeled by the last maid, who had also changed their containers for another. I find it highly suspicious for a maid to do so when she could have just easily replaced the labels from the old jars to the new ones. This, I believe, is so they can confuse someone with no knowledge of the lethality of these herbs and plants and thus cannot be blamed for purposefully poisoning anyone.

4. While there are similarities in the signs and symptoms for each plant poisoning, it was the Queen’s delirium that had me believing she had ingested the tea with the foxglove petals and leaves.

The evidence stated so far may not be compelling for her death to be deemed deliberate, but I have delved deeper into my investigation. These facts that I am to state were unknown to me upon my arrival in the palace and I believe it an advantage—that I have a clear mind—as I went about my inquisition.

5. The Queen was fond of her garden and, thus, was knowledgeable on plants and herbs. She would have known of the properties of each of the flowers that had been gifted to her.

6. The Queen was also known for attending to her gardens and thus, had been used to the heat of the summer sun. She would have known when to bring a hat with her or when to not be in the garden.

7. The Grand Duke is the king’s adviser from Prussia who had arrived at our humble kingdom two years ago. He is able to speak and read in the German language, in addition to our kingdom’s tongue.

8. The Grand Duke had also gifted the late Queen with books and plants and bulbs from his home kingdom. These books had been in the German language, and all had pages of said plants above.

9. The Queen had many books on the subject of botany and herbology and each book contained passages of said plants. Each passage and page had warnings against the ingestion of any parts of the plants.

10. There was a book on herbology in the German language and the pages for Digitalis purpurea and for Aconitum napellus had been opened far too many times, judging by the way the book opened immediately on said subject as it was being taken out. It is for a fact that the spine had creased on those particular pages.

I may seem overly suspicious of the Grand Duke but there is cause for my distrust, other than what had been said above. In my last trip to the square, I had seen him come out of the apothecary. I continued on my investigation without his knowledge and had learned of more information that deemed him guilty of such violent act against the late Queen.

11. I came upon the apothecary’s ledger and in it, I looked for the noble’s name. What I had found astounded and frightened me. A few months before Queen Amalie’s death, he had been in need of the apothecary’s service—which, I had inquired of the shopkeeper, included preparing of herbs. In the shop, I had found the same preparations of monkshood and foxglove. Suffice it to say, the service could have been in that form.

12. Another entry in the ledger had been for a purchase of foxglove. This was done months prior to my arrival. I had noted of this because there was a jar of tea that had in it freshly prepared foxglove. I had told the housekeeper and Cook of this matter (without alarming them of my finding) and in my own volition, kept said jar in my chambers so it is beyond the reach of unsuspecting victims.

13. His last purchase was that for hemlock. I am sure you are aware of its lethal properties. If not, it is famously known for how quick it kills its victims. I have no idea of where he would use said herb—I believe he does not own a pet or an animal that needed putting down—but since I had invoked his ire once more, I took it upon myself to buy an emetic to use. There is no known cure for hemlock and only a prepared emetic or a solution of mustard and castor oil can save the victim from having the poison reach the stomach. I fear for my life, should he try to use the pernicious herb on me.

As for the reason why he did such evil action, it is only for him to answer.

I implore you to follow through my investigation to see if I did indeed find sufficient evidence against the man. The Apothecary is the one near the seamstress aisle, on the opposite side of the square from the Magistrate’s building. Seek for his ledger. Look in the month of May of the last year and you shall find his purchase of service, in the month of June for this year for the purchase of Digitalis, and the week last since the penning of this letter for the purchase of hemlock. You will also find a record of mine with a purchase of two emetics: one against hemlock and the other against foxglove poisoning.

The herbology book is entitled ‘Ein Buch über Pflanzen und Kräuter und ihre Verwendung,’ its spine is blue with a crease that will tell you of what page Digitalis purpurea is printed on. In my chambers in the palace, the jar of poison-laden tea is kept away near the fireplace, beneath the logs used for kindling. Be careful when inspecting it. There is a need to use gloves when you are to handle the petals for they are dangerous even by touch.

Forgive my cowardice for not coming forth with my investigation. I would not want to accuse the Grand Duke with so little evidence. I fear that if he catches me accusing him of thus, I would be sent to my death for treason, &c.

If, however, my vanishing be mysterious, I fear the Grand Duke has found out of my investigation and has dealt with me accordingly.

Take good care on your investigation. I would not want the Grand Duke to claim another victim whilst you are in pursuit of the truth.

Yours ever,

Y/N

A girl and her cat. Can’t get any better than this.

The Princess Diaries (2001) dir. Garry Marshall

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 | 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.