Cinderella 2015 - Tumblr Posts

Cinderella is so much stronger than modern girl characters.

Seriously guys. Please tell me: what's harder to do? Give up your rights, your home, and your privileges without ever stooping to the level of your petty abusers? Staying kind and true to what you know is right?

Or popping off a mouthy one-liner that you've just been dying to use to put the haters in their place? Using your fighting superpowers to take what you want?

Which one is harder? Which one is braver? Which one takes more patience, steadfast character, and, to put it plainly, faith?

It's not hard to take out your anger on small-souled, loveless, hollow people who don't know how to be anything other than cruel. It's easy. It's on the tip of our tongue as soon as we're insulted or hurt or our rights are infringed upon.

It's also not hard to slip into yourself and hide from the world, think only about how you've been wronged and how to preserve yourself. Forget about anyone or anything else besides making it through the next day. It's not fun, but it's easy, especially when she's suffering.

It's also not hard to become hard, bitter. Take little bits and pieces of revenge--maybe she can't stand up to her enemies, maybe her situation is too dangerous to fight back, but she could be angry. She could get hard and calloused, hate them with every look, and find opportunities to keep them from having what they want.

What's so much harder is to take the situation and rise above it. Not to let the circumstances control your life, but also your response. To choose to be kind and pity your enemies, wish they could reform, serve them, even love and forgive them. And while you're doing that, you're taking every opportunity to be kind and find ways to serve others. Instead of saying, "I've got enough to deal with," saying, "oh, let me help even the smallest of creatures, even if it's just with something small, even if I'm buried under my own mountain of abuse and businesses." It's way harder.

That's why she's stronger than Raya, and Mei, and any of the Live Action remakes of anyone but Cinderella.

cinderella (2015)

i'm just curious bc i'm watching How to Train Your Dragon and i always forget how happy and calm it makes me feel. i mean, i did name my cat after Toothless the dragon. but i also love Lion King, that's my Disney comfort movie. and my Ghibli comfort movie is Spirited Away. watching any of these when i'm in a foul mood or my anxiety is high always helps 🥰 but i watch them just for fun too, not only when i'm in a mood. what about you?

Costume appreciation series: Cinderella (2015) dir Kenneth Branagh

Costume Design by Sandy Powell

Kitella: “Starlight” by Taylor Swift (part 2)

“I shouldn’t” “You should” “I will”

Cinderella moodboard!

The Accidental Princess (Part 7)

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 Summary: Kit spends time with Chelina and finds inspiration about his feelings for you.

Word Count: 9.7k words

Warnings: period-typical misogyny, i don’t know how military works so if i get this wrong, im sorry, badly translated Spanish sentences, that’s it?? (if you see anymore, please tell me)

A/N: Hi guys! For someone who’s lost interest in writing this, having written 9.7k words for this chapter alone makes me sound like a liar lol. But this is just more of downtime because the last one had been full of action, in some ways. A very big thank you to the people who are still reading this. Also, I think we’re nearing the end. I have a feeling it might end by Part 10, so hang on! As always, thoughts, reviews, comments, suggestions, requests (and reblogs) are very much welcome! TAGLIST IS OPEN for this story! Not beta’d, we die like men (2). Please enjoy Part 7 of The Accidental Princess!

Masterlist

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

Kit had seen in your eyes that you loved him. Words were not needed when he had asked you that question because the look in your eyes, the heartbreak in them, spoke volumes more than any words could. And it angered him. It angered him that his own father would prevent you from speaking of your true affections.

Keep reading

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.

The Accidental Princess (Part 2)

Prince Kit x Reader

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

Chapter Summary: You get settled in the palace.

Word Count: 4.5k words

Warnings: period typical misogyny, none?

A/N: Hi, guys! I'm trying my best with the taglist so if you didn't get tagged, chances are there's something wrong with the way I did it or you're un-tag-able?? Anyway, I know there are a lot of inconsistencies with this piece of fanfic but let's all just enjoy this lol. The lemon juice ink works, though. You can give that a try. I love hearing all about your thoughts! Reviews, comments, suggestions (and reblogs) are most certainly welcome! Here is Part 2 of The Accidental Princess!

Masterlist

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

It was an unusual request that you asked for lemons with your writing materials but they delivered. You merely said that those were for you to bite on but truly, it was for you to write a message that only your father could decipher. He had taught you the magic of vanishing ink one night during a particularly dreary travel. He had told you that the true message written with lemon juice would only be revealed on top of an open flame. You had tried it once and you were impressed and now, it was your only means of communicating with him without the rest of the palace knowing. This stratagem had only been used for important missives and what else could be more important than for your father to know that you had been married to the prince for two decades and that you would be kept to the palace indefinitely.

You wrote carefully, telling him to keep the information to himself. You had no ambitions of being a princess and the irony of you being one—or being called an ambitious girl by the Grand Duke—was not lost on you. You kept your secret message short and concise, and you also told him no promises of future missives lest you be found out. Once you were finished with the lemon ink, you let it dry and took to writing the obvious message with ink. You scribbled in between the lines written with lemon juice your requests for your trunks, writing implements, and the many books you were supposed to be reading. The letter was short and direct and you sealed it with wax and a sprig of lavender, your unofficial insignia, so your father would immediately know that the message was from you.

When your letter had been sent, a maid arrived, bearing with her a dress for you to change into. She had been scandalized at seeing you in your undergarments, which you had assured her that they were not, and she took it upon herself to start a bath for you.

“What shall I call you, miss?” asked the maid as she scrubbed your shoulders with warm water and simple soap. You had told her that you were fine with bathing yourself but the surprise on her face made you realize that you had asked for the unusual. Of course, guests of the king were expected to be waited on hand and foot.

“Y/N, please,” you replied. “I’m all but noble so please, do not burden yourself with titles to call me. If you are uncomfortable with calling me by my name, you may continue calling me ‘miss.’”

“It is rare for the king to house a common guest, miss, if you don’t mind me saying.” said the girl.

You smiled to yourself. “I find my situation quite uncommon for a commoner like me.” You washed off the lather. “What may I call you?”

“Abigail, miss,” she replied.

You let out a little chuckle then apologized. “Oh, do forgive me, Abigail. I find your parents quite humorous for naming you such.”

Abigail chuckled as well, to your relief. “They are humorous people, miss. My brother Hunter, he is the palace gamekeeper.”

You chuckled. “Oh, dear me. Your futures are already made out for you at the day of your birth.”

“To work for the king and the kingdom is an honor, miss.”

You turned to your maid slowly, careful of the water that sloshed on the side of the tub. “I haven’t been in the kingdom for quite some time, Abigail. Would you mind telling me what has happened in the last years?”

The maid looked at you uncomfortably. You touched the hand nearest to you and smiled. “I promise I shall not tell a soul of the things you wish to tell me. I am merely curious. If I am to be housed here for a while, I would like to be knowledgeable of what has transpired within these walls.”

Abigail looked around your room, you did as well, before nodding. “The Queen Amalie has died.”

Oh. You had not known that. When she was not present at the throne room earlier the day, you only thought she must have been busy with some other affairs. It did not cross your mind that the beautiful and benevolent queen had passed on.

Poor king. Poor Kit.

“What has happened to her?” you asked.

“She had taken ill one morning in the summer and passed on the day after. The king and the prince were devastated. The whole kingdom as well.”

“When was this?” You settled back on your tub.

“Just the year before,” Abigail started washing your hair. “Since then, the king had been in poor health. He is worried for the kingdom’s future should he soon follow his wife.”

“You do not think the prince capable?” you asked. You had known princes were schooled into being future monarchs since their infancy. Perhaps the Prince Kit was otherwise engaged in other matters, in addition to running the kingdom.

“The prince is very capable, miss. However, the king has stipulated that the kingdom be ruled by a king and a queen. Prince Kit has to marry before he ascends the throne.”

Of course. It was the very reason you were called for, after all. Your presence had been a great hindrance to the future of the kingdom. With you still legally wed to the prince, he would not be able to marry the Grand Duke’s niece.

“Does he have a bride he wishes to wed?” you asked when Abigail passed a cloth for you to dry yourself with. Any woman, noble or not, would be inquisitive towards the future queen of the kingdom. Even one married to said prince. You tried to maintain an air of ignorance on the matters so they would not be suspicious of your coming over to the palace.

“The Grand Duke’s niece, miss. It is said she is a princess from Zaragoza.” The maid let out a towel for you and you stood, taking it and wrapping yourself in it.

A princess. It was now truly understandable the ire the Grand Duke had with you. Who else is a better match for the prince than a princess?

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered as you remembered the blue of Kit’s eyes. He had looked over at you appreciatively, even in your disheveled state, and you had reacted in a way you had seen women did with their lovers. You knew you were flustered when you looked at him, felt the heat rise to your cheeks and made an utter fool of yourself by giving an ungraceful curtsy. You were often calm and collected, always poised unless the situation called for you not to be, and in that moment, you stumbled. All because of your husband.

Oh, dear.

You needed to stop calling him thus, even in your head. The king would have you locked in the dungeons if he ever caught you referring to the prince as your husband.

The dress Abigail had given you belonged to one of the former guests of the palace. It was a surprise the palace kept it at all; you knew they disposed of things that did not belong to the king or had them given away to a charity of some sort. But this dress, although a bit late in its design, was beautiful in its own way. Abigail had helped you don it, lacing your corset just right and as she laced the back of the dress, it was a surprise at how well it fit you. It was like it was made for you.

“Have you any knowledge of the Grand Duke?” you asked as Abigail buckled your shoes .

“Whatever do you mean, miss?” She took the other shoe and put it on your feet.

“I was not made aware of his presence only until recently. How did he come to be in our tiny kingdom?”

“He arrived as an adviser to the king, miss, about two years ago. We do not know more than that.”

“I see,” you said and smiled at your maid. “Thank you for your help today, Abigail. I hope you would not mind it if I ask you to give me a tour of the palace? I would not wish to get lost in any of the many rooms.”

“I fear I am not in the position to do so, miss.” Abigail said with a quick bob of curtsy. “Is there anything you require before I leave?”

You looked at yourself before the mirror and smiled. “No, Abigail. I thank you for your help. I shall see you again tonight.”

“Miss,” the young maid said before leaving.

You blew out a breath, walking back to the window and looked at the sea once more. The kingdom had suffered for a while, what with Queen Amalie’s passing and the king in poor health. The sudden revelation of your childish endeavours of being accidentally married to the prince would risk the already crumbling state the kingdom to come apart further. You had to help in any way you could; it was the very least you could do.

You strode out of your room, walking down the long hallway. You had a vague memory of where the library was, supposing it hadn’t been changed in the last two decades you had been in the palace. You recalled it being situated near the gardens on the east of the grand staircase, with ornate double doors of gold gilding. If you remembered correctly, portraits of the current royal family and ones of the prince should be hung on either side of it.

You walked down the hallway quietly, counting the rooms and committing to memory the doors and halls you had passed through lest you be lost when you return to your room. You went down the grand staircase, smiling politely at some footmen who opened doors for you. You stood before said ornate doors that you had remembered and once the footmen opened them, you went in.

The scent of wood and books assaulted your nose and you smiled to yourself. Your last trip abroad had been to Austria and you had asked for your father’s permission to take a little bit of an excursion to their famed Imperial Court Library. The place did not disappoint. Murals and frescoes of heavenly bodies adorned the walls and ceiling, with shelves that housed every possible volume of books you could imagine. It was a beautiful place and somehow, the palace library seemed to take that as an inspiration.

Any books on the politics of the kingdom would be a great help to you and to this predicament you put yourself in. You walked over to the section of the library that you thought housed the books on your kingdom’s laws when you did not notice that you were not alone in the room.

“I see you are getting comfortable in the palace, girl,” you heard the Grand Duke say.

You turned to the man and dropped into a curtsy, keeping your head down. “Your Grace.”

“What are you doing in the library?” he asked you in that way of his. His tone was almost always accusing and suspicious, despite meeting you only for a few minutes.

“I was hoping to get something to read, Your Grace.” You replied as you stood back to your full height.

“Anything in particular that you are looking for?” He walked over to you and looked you down through his hawk-like nose.

“Laws of this land, Your Grace,” you said honestly.

The way he chuckled grated on your skin. It was sarcastic and rude. “You are too comfortable, you ambitious girl. First, you marry the prince and now you wish to learn more about the laws of this land? What shall be next, turn us out of the palace?” He scoffed. “Find some light reading. There is a book on herbology that I find would best fit someone of your stature.”

You gave a polite smile. Like most dignitaries you had met, they often looked down on you. You found it best to let them underestimate you instead of engaging them in a fight head-on. You had the power prove them otherwise in the next opportunity. The Grand Duke needed to be surprised that you were more than what you appeared to be.

“Thank you, Grand Duke.” You replied with a quick bob. “Forgive me for intruding on your time in the library.”

You turned to the other side of the library, plucking from the shelves a book on herbs and plants in the German language, before taking two sheets of paper and a pencil.

“I shall bid you a good day, Your Grace,” you called out as you curtsied in his general direction once more. You saw him wave his hand at you dismissively and it cued you to leave the awful man alone.

In the very least, you knew where the library was located. The book about the laws of the land would have to wait. The book on herbology, however, looked interesting. You were conversant in many a language, reading this German book would not pose a problem. It would keep you occupied while you waited for your trunks to arrive.

You walked out to the gardens, smiling and greeting the footmen politely as you passed them. Most of the flowers in the garden were ornamental; you highly suspect they would own herbs in such a fancy orchard. Either way, it was a lovely day out and it seemed fitting that you read the book outside. You sat on one of the benches and opened the tome, starting off with Digitalis purpurea.

Kit saw you emerge from the doors of the palace. If he were honest with himself, he would say he was disappointed that you weren’t wearing your breeches and shirt anymore and that he couldn’t admire your shapely figure but with the dress you had now donned, there was no mistaking the contours your body. He had not had this visceral reaction to the Princess Chelina’s portrait, but then again, he had not seen her in person. You, however, he had seen you and had admired you. Perhaps, more than admired you. There was something different about you and for the life of him, he could not name what it was.

Other than, of course, you and he were bound in matrimony.

He could not find it in him to be angry with you. It was a peculiar situation you both had gotten into, the innocent intentions and legally binding contracts. You did not seem to be an opportunistic girl. He remembered your hope for a friendship with him, your eagerness in trying to copy your father’s way of sealing such relationships, and the way you were excited when you both had (unintentionally) sealed each other’s fate. It was simply laughable and not worth getting furious over, unlike his father and the Grand Duke.

“I see your father’s guest has taken your fancy, Your Royal Highness,” said his good friend, the Captain of the Guards.

Kit only grinned. “Don’t I always take fancy at the next pretty lady, Captain?”

The man chuckled heartily. “Need I remind you that you are soon to be wed to a princess. If there is a time as any to act on your fancy, it would be now.”

He only raised an amused brow, turning to his friend. “Is that so, Captain? Tell me, have you made any advances towards one of the abigails?”

“Her name is Abigail,” corrected the Captain. “And no, I have not. There is no reason for us to talk. For your father’s guest, however, there is. Any guest of the king is the guest of the prince as well, isn’t it?”

“If only it were that simple,” Kit all but sighed. Even if he and the captain were close friends, it would do more harm than good to tell him of your relationship with each other. His father had been adamant that he divorce the two of you quietly so he could push through with the wedding to the princess.

“Why not march over and talk to her? No one would turn away the prince.”

While he knew that was true, Kit did not want to disturb your peace. You were poring over a book on your lap while your hands were moving over a piece of paper. Scribbling, perhaps? he thought to himself as he looked over at you once more. He heard the captain say some words to him but he was only intent on watching you. He only moved when he saw the captain advance towards you with purposeful strides.

“My lady,” he heard the captain say.

Kit followed behind him, taking on an impassive air about him so he did not seem overeager to be talking with you even though he was. He wanted to speak to you once more ever since his father told him of the reason you were here. There was something in him that told him he had to know you better, other than from the words his father and the Grand Duke had said to him about you. He saw you look up from your page and stood when your eyes landed on him.

“Your Royal Highness, sir,” you curtsied before them.

“My name is Captain Thibault, miss. May I know yours?” the captain asked.

You stood to your height, eyes on Kit before turning to Thibault with a beautiful smile on your face.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N, Captain.” you replied.

Thibault nodded to the book in your hands. “May I?”

You offered the book but his friend took the paper instead.

“Are you an artist, Miss Y/N?” Thibault asked as he showed the piece of paper to Kit. “Your sketch is remarkable.”

Kit had been under the tutelage of Master Phineas and he could see that your sketch was excellent with the way you handled your pencil. Your techniques were impeccable. It was like seeing another master’s artwork.

“No, Captain. I was just finding a way to occupy my thoughts. Luckily, I saw a Digitalis purpurea plant in this beautiful garden and decided to draw it so I can further study it inside my room.”

Kit watched you, enamored at the way you were holding yourself. Any woman would have cowered at the sight of the prince and the Captain of the Guards but you remained yourself. There was no air of pretentiousness or false modesty about you and it was very refreshing for him to see that you weren’t one to fall at his feet and wax poetic about his title or his dashing good looks.

“You study plants?” Kit found himself saying. When you turned to him, he felt himself stop at the look of your eyes.

“Oh, no.” You looked at him with your arresting eyes. “The Grand Duke suggested that I read a book on herbology because it befits my stature instead of taking the book I was intending to read. The first plant I saw when the book opened was thus.”

He raised a brow at that. “And what was it that you wanted to read?”

When you caught your lower lip between your teeth, it was a surprise that he did not catch on fire on the spot.

“The laws of the land, Your Royal Highness,” you murmured.

“The laws of the land?” Thibault asked, passing your scrap of paper back to you. “Whatever for?”

“My… friend desires to learn of the grounds of separation. She is convinced she isn’t a fit match for her husband.” You clamped the sheet in between the pages of the book.

German, Kit noted as he peeked at the title of the book you were holding. He learnt German when he was a child and had turned conversant in it. He was suddenly curious as to how you had learned such an arduous language.

“If I may inquire,” Thibault said. You watched the captain with curious eyes. “Why is the lady convinced she is not suit for her husband?”

Kit realized what reply you had given a few seconds before and watched you silently.

“For one, her husband is so above her in stature. It is an unusual marriage, if I dare say so, Captain.” You told them. Your eyes landed on Kit’s once more. “They had unmistakably signed a marriage contract and had been bound since.”

Kit’s lips twitched into a small smile and he found you give him a shy one of yours. Your offense was great in the eyes of his father but to him, it was comical. Absurd and laughable. If Sir William Shakespeare were alive and present, he would have another comedy in his hands.

“You are right, miss. That is unusual.” Thibault said. “But no matter. Should you wish to come back to the library, I am certain His Royal Highness would be of great help to you.”

Kit saw his friend turn to him and he cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. Although, I must warn you, the language the laws were written in are in English and some in Latin.”

You smiled, a dimple sinking into your cheek. “It is no matter. So long as the passage is not wholly in Latin, I think I shall understand it.” You told them.

Thibault gave you a polite smile. “Shall I escort you back to the palace, miss? Perhaps even to the library?”

“I thank you, Captain, but I must decline. I wish to tarry just a little. It is a beautiful day out and it would be such a waste to not bask in the sunlight.” You replied.

“Shall we take a turn about the gardens, then?” Kit asked. “I am sure Captain Thibault is needed by his Guards to command them.”

You looked at him, surprised. You flushed as your eyes collided with his and he would not soon forget the rosy hue that came upon your cheeks. Even with all the beautiful flowers that surrounded you, your beauty, to him, was incomparable.

Thibault only smiled in understanding and bowed. “Your Royal Highness.”

“I would not turn down a walk about the gardens.” You turned to Thibault and held out your hand as if asking for a handshake. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Captain Thibault.”

The Captain instead kissed the top of it. “And you as well, Miss Y/N.”

You blushed once more and then slipped your hand on Kit’s offered arm, walking beside him. Kit loved the garden like his mother did. The royal gardener had maintained well the bushes and the flowers. You were right; it would be a waste to spend the day indoors when it was beautiful like this outside.

“Nice day out,” Kit commented when the silence stretched on.

“Yes, it is, Your Royal Highness.” You said with a smile in your voice.

You tilted your head towards the sky and his eyes followed the outline of your face. A strong nose. Flushed cheeks. Flecks of spots across your nose. The little scar. You looked like you belonged in the lively rays of the sun, not inside the cold formality of the palace.

He caught himself looking at you for longer than what was permitted. “Please, call me Kit.” he said as he cleared his throat, turning away from you.

“Oh, I don’t think it proper that I do.” You murmured. You looked straight ahead now as you both walked aimlessly about.

“I insist,” Kit said once more. “After all, we are wed, are we not?”

Your hand squeezed his arm and he felt the heat of your palm even through the sleeves of his coat. “I apologize for that. It was not my intention to ensnare you in marriage.”

“I know,” was all he said. “May I call you Y/N?”

“You may call me whatever you wish,” you said as you bent and plucked a sprig of lavender.

“If I shall call you by your name, you have to call me by mine. It is a fair exchange.” He said with a smile as he watched you sniff the bud.

You smiled as you looked at him. “Still, it is improper, Your Royal Highness.”

“If you carry on calling me that, I shall call you that as well. You are a princess of this kingdom, after all,” he said lightly.

When you remained quiet, he nodded at the flower in your hands. “Do you like lavenders?”

“They are my favorite. I seal my letters with a sprig of this so people know they are from me.” You opened the book and placed the bloom in between the scraps of paper you had inside. “There is a reason why I wanted to read the laws of the land. I wish to help with this predicament of ours.”

Kit only hummed, walking about with you.

“Your father wishes you to be wed.” You told him, this time with a much firmer tone of voice.

“You do not wish to remain wed to me?” he joked.

“I am no princess,” was all you said. It was neither an affirmation nor a negation. Something inside Kit dared to hope. “I would not want to stand in the way of the future of the kingdom.”

He raised a brow and turned to you. You looked at him.

“You’re hardly in the way,” he said, looking deeply into your eyes.

You gave a shy smile. “Are you really as benevolent as your mother? Finding no fault even when I made such a terrible faux pas?”

All the jesting left him at the mention of his mother. It still felt quite taboo for the kingdom to talk about such terrible happening. He thought he had come to terms with it but he had not, judging from his reaction.

Your hand squeezed his arm once more. You both stopped in your tracks.

“Forgive me, Your Royal Highness. I spoke too liberally.”

He nodded stiffly.

“I shall let you be—”

“Kit! Is that you, cousin?”

Kit turned slowly to the voice behind him. His cousin made his way towards the both of you jauntily, smiling as if he did not intrude upon a serious conversation.

“Your father told me I was to find you here with Captain Thibault. I passed the good man on my way and he told me you were in the presence of a lady.” His cousin said.

Kit cleared his throat, nodding again. “Yes. Louis, this is a… friend, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. Miss Y/N, this is my cousin.”

Louis took your hand and bowed over it, kissing your knuckles. “Louis Toussaint, Duke of Granville.”

You let go of Kit’s arm, dropping into an elegant curtsy. “Your Grace.” you said. Kit was positive he heard a smile in your voice.

“Louis shall suffice, Miss Y/N.”

Kit saw the devious smile on his cousin’s face.

You rose to your height, smiling prettily at his cousin. “Very well, Louis.” You said readily.

Kit only raised his brow… and tamped down the vile green-eyed monster that had suddenly come up him.

The Accidental Princess (Part 3)

Prince Kit x Reader

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

Chapter Summary: Prince Kit gets to know more about you.

Word Count: 5.5k words

Warnings: Grand Duke is a bit of an a$$ but everyone knows that already, bit of period typical misogyng?? Louis and Kit both being adorable, not period accurate (but I try to stick to the real thing lol), FLUFFFFF, that's it??

A/N: Hey, guys! I know this was posted before but when I did a reread of it, it was all over the place. My bad!! It's the same thing but in the right order. Hopefully Tumblr won't c*ck this up this time. I love hearing your thoughts, you guys! Please don't be shy in leaving a comment or a review! Reblogs are totally welcome! Here is Part 3 of The Accidental Princess!

Masterlist

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

“Kit, my boy, I have been looking everywhere for you.” The king called his son as he appeared from the corner.

Your words of his mother being benevolent had brought him to the Hall of Portraits. He had left you with his cousin, Louis, since you were so enamored with him than you were with your husband. And yes, he was free to admit to himself that he was jealous of the rapt attention you gave his cousin while you gave him nary a look since being introduced to Louis.

Kit stood in front of the portrait of his mother, looking at her for a while as he remembered the day of her death. Queen Amalie had been jolly that day, hugging him and kissing his cheek as she greeted him a good morning. All she had planned was to be in her garden, planting and caring for the new species of flowers and herbs the Grand Duke had brought over from his home country. She had always spent her time of rest in the garden she loved. She had slaved herself the day before, absorbed in finishing her proposal for more international trades for the kingdom. Kit had been eager to read more of it but it was not meant to be. She had passed on the day after that. Kit, his father, the whole palace, and the whole kingdom mourned the loss of such good and intelligent queen.

“I had received word that the Princess Chelina wishes to arrive earlier than she intended. The Grand Duke thinks it a fine idea for her to know more of her future people.” The king said as he stood beside his son.

Kit merely nodded, keeping his eyes on his mother’s serene face on the portrait. “Is there a day or time we are to be expecting her in the palace?”

He turned to his father and found him staring at his mother as well. There was a sad look upon his face, a longing, as his eyes roamed over the master’s painting of her. Kit knew better than to linger by his mother’s portrait. His father had aged a decade since that faithful day and his health started to decline once she had been buried. It had not gone unnoticed to Kit that he was soon to take his father’s place on the throne.

“Zaragoza is seven days’ travel by sea and land to our kingdom. We shall see her at the end of the week.” The king cleared his throat and patted his son’s shoulder. “Your cousins have arrived.”

“I know, Father. I left Louis in the company of Y/N in the garden.” Kit told him.

“It is best you stay away from her,” said the king in a tone that did not permit defying.

But Kit was his son and he sometimes defied his father, even in small matters. “Is there a reason why?”

“She will get ideas that you wish to remain wed to her.” The king looked at his son.

Kit raised his brow. “She wishes to help with this predicament she has placed upon us.”

“I think she has done enough helping.” When Kit did not seem to back down, the king sighed. “Your mother would have known what to do, Kit.”

“Mother would,” the prince agreed.

“I miss her every day,” the king admitted.

“So do I.” he told his father. “What shall we do on the anniversary of her death? Would it be in poor taste to hold a feast?”

“No. Your mother would have allowed festivities.”

“Shall we hold one for her, then?”

“Yes,” his father replied. “She would have loved for us to be happy instead of mourning her. We shall hold it when the princess arrives.”

Kit nodded. “Do you think mother would have liked her?”

“Princess Chelina?”

“No. Y/N.”

The king sighed. “Keep her out of your head, Kit. Once she and you are separated, she will be out of the palace and of our lives for good.”

“It makes me wonder, father, why you are so adamant that I marry Princess Chelina. Isn’t what you stipulated that I only marry before I ascend the throne? You did not say she needed be a princess or a noble or titled, even.”

“She has turned your head, my boy.” The king said gravely. “I worry about that. I know her father. He had boasted before that his daughter could be very persuasive.”

Kit raised an eyebrow. “She has not done any persuasion towards me at all.”

It is quite the opposite, in fact, he thought surly. He could still vividly recall how you smiled prettily when you called his cousin by his name readily. He had been trying to make you call him by his name and you were stubborn and insistent that it was improper. For his cousin, it appeared that it was not.

“Princes are made for princesses.” The king said with finality as he looked at his son with a stern brow.

“Father—”

“I will not hear any argument from you, Kit.”

“Can I, perhaps, try to learn more about her?”

“For what reason?”

“She is a citizen of our kingdom, is she not? If you do not think her the princess, then we shall consider her a citizen of it.”

“There are others you can learn from.”

“None of them live in the palace.”

“Kit.”

“Father.”

The king sighed and turned to the portrait once more. “Do you see how stubborn he has become, Amalie? Our boy has not changed.”

Kit grinned. “I took after you, father.”

His father chuckled. “Very well, Kit, but be weary of her. The Grand Duke says she is coming after the books on the laws of the kingdom. She might seem innocent to you but for the Grand Duke, he finds her ambitious.”

“The Grand Duke insulted her intelligence by suggesting she read a book on herbology. Her reason for wanting the books on politics was to help us find a solution for this impasse.”

“The books are in a foreign language.”

“She reads German.”

The king’s eyebrow rose as he turned to his son. “Has she told you that?”

“The herbology book was in German.”

“When did we get an herbology book in German?”

“Must be mother’s since she loved tending to her garden.”

They both turned to the portrait of the last queen of the kingdom.

“Let your cousin keep her entertained, Kit. Remember that you are to be wed to the Princess Chelina. Hers is a country that we are in desperate need of alliance with. Your mother would have wanted for you to do your duty.” The king said with a tired voice.

Kit remained quiet. His mother had ingrained in him her love of her duty as the queen. She loved the people, considered them her family when she had moved from her home country to her kingdom. She always placed their needs above all else, heralding their small territory into greatness in her short reign as queen. If there was one person he idolized more than his father, it was his mother.

“Of course, father. I do not wish to disappoint mother in her expectations of me.” Kit said as he looked at his mother’s face once more.

“Good. Now that we are in agreement, there is some other matter I wish to discuss with you.”

The days in the palace were monotonous.

Your trunks arrived with all of the items you had asked for but you were yet to pick up on the books your father had sent over because of the Duke of Granville. Louis had been a great source of companionship, even at times he did seem a bit tiresome. You had known him from before, when your family had been invited by his father to visit their stately home. You were at an impressionable age then, you sixteen and he nineteen, when you first met him. You had wished that he reciprocated your feelings of infatuation but as you saw that he merely viewed you like a sister, you dashed all hopes of having your sentiments returned. Louis had also been a bit of a braggart, boasting of his worldly travels to you, before he learned that you were much more well-traveled than he was. Since then, you had a certain kinship with each other, one borne out of your love for travels.

“I must say, being out of the palace is rather invigorating.” Louis said as he stepped out of the courtyard. “Is this why I often see you out here with a book to your nose?”

“The sea breeze reminds me of my travels. Other than the smell of the flowers in the garden, I rather like the saltiness of the sea.” You took a deep breath as if to prove a point. “The book is merely for passing time.”

You looked at the sky and smiled as the sun’s shine kissed your cheeks.

“Still an avid reader, I see.”

“It was never lost from me, Louis,” you said as you turned to him. “Books, much like traveling, can take you everywhere your heart desires.”

He hummed. “And speaking of heart, my cousin seems to be besotted with you, my dear Y/N,” Louis commented with a grin as you both walked down the gardens.

“Your cousin is betrothed to a princess. I am surprised you do not know of the news.” You clasped your hands behind you, traipsing the pathway towards the late queen’s secret garden. My marriage garden, you thought to yourself wryly.

“That does not connect with my statement, Y/N.” Louis plucked a daisy and presented it to you.

You took it with a smile. “What do you wish me to say to that, Louis? That I am as infatuated with him as well?”

Louis’s chuckle echoed through the wind. “That shall suffice. Was it difficult to admit the truth?”

You shook your head, flushing. “That is not the truth.” You looked away from him to hide the pink tint of your cheeks.

“Not the whole of it.” Louis teased. The duke, apparently, was very observant and you declined to show him that he was speaking the truth.

You turned from him and walked on. “I see you have been looking at the abigails in the palace. Please tell me you have not made advancements of any kind to my maid Abigail.”

“No but now that you have mentioned it,” your friend regarded you with a boyish grin. Louis was also a lothario of sorts, in addition to being a brag.

“Louis! Don’t you dare!” You scolded playfully. “She has her sights set on Captain Thibault. I think he returns her sentiment.”

Louis sat on the bench and patted the space beside him. You sat and placed your hands on your lap, cupping the daisy he had given you.

“What makes you think that the good Captain is infatuated with your maid?” he asked.

“He is flustered around her,” you said simplistically. “And she is flustered around him.”

The duke’s grin was positively devilish. You dreaded to know what was going on in his mind.

“Was it like how you were flustered around me in Granville?” he teased. “Squeaky voice and ungraceful curtsy?”

You gave an unladylike groan. “I should not have admitted that to you.”

“Too late now, my dear Y/N. Quite too late.” He grinned.

“You are forever going to tease me so. I shall have to travel to the ends of the world to be away from you,” you told him.

“Or you could come with me to the square?” said a voice above you. “Escape my annoying cousin for a while.”

You looked up and saw blue eyes boring into yours. Kit’s. You knew the hue of his eyes even if you had only spoke to him a handful of times and had looked into them for lesser than that. You shivered at their intensity as he watched you.

You scrambled to your feet, dropping into another ungraceful curtsy. Louis only guffawed and you skewered him with a glance.

“Your Royal Highness,” you chirped, which only had your friend laugh out loud some more.

“Y/N,” Kit said good-naturedly to you. “Louis,” he said flatly to his cousin.

“Ah, cousin. It is so good to see you. A refreshing sight to see, am I right, Y/N?” Louis said once he had recovered from his bout of laughter.

You rose to your feet and looked at Louis squarely in the eye. “Yes, Your Grace. Quite,” you nearly spat at him.

Louis only grinned that charming smile of his. He knew how to spite you, the devil.

The prince cleared his throat and looked at you once more. “What do you say, Y/N? A trip to the square?”

“Any particular reason you’re going to the square, cousin?” Louis asked as he stood, clapping Kit’s shoulder.

“To get away from you, perhaps?” you supplied in a small voice. You had not realized it was loud enough for Kit to hear as well.

“I understand my cousin could be quite peeving but I did not think he has caused you this great a distress, Y/N.” Kit said.

You looked at the prince with wide eyes, turning pink when you saw the way he studied you. Why was it that he always looked at you as though you were the most fascinating thing in the world? His eyes were always inquisitive and they always held that sort of wonderment in them whenever he regarded you.

“Oh, no,” you denied, flushing feverishly. “Louis—that is, His Grace—and I were merely playing a game.”

“And a fun game it was,” Louis agreed. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the duke.

Kit only looked at you. “I see.”

“Off you go, pet,” Louis told you. “I shall miss you while you are away.”

You glared at the charming man. “I do not think I share the sentiment.”

“Oh?” He said, pretending affront. Louis pulled away from his cousin and advanced towards you. “You think you shall not miss me, Louis Toussaint, the Duke of Granville?”

You stayed rooted in place. “No. I dare say I won’t, Louis.” You told him with a false air of affection.

He leaned his face to yours, near enough to be considered improper, looking into your eyes with his happy, joking ones. “Liar.”

Your lips broke into a smile. You only hummed.

Kit cleared his throat.

Louis winked at you before pulling away. “She is all yours, cousin. I shall have to suffer spending time with my sisters while my dear Y/N is with you.”

Kit looked at you again. “Shall we? The horses are being fitted for their saddles. We shall leave at once.”

“I shall have to inform the king that I am to leave the palace grounds.” You told him. “I would need a chaperone and he shall be informed of my itinerary.”

“Whatever for?”

“A stipulation for my staying here,” you answered.

“Even when I am to take you to the square?”

“Especially then, Your Royal Highness,” you told him with meaning.

Kit seemed to have understood because he nodded. “Of course. Captain Thibault will be coming with us.”

“I can be your chaperone, pet,” Louis said.

“No.” Kit declared.

Louis raised a brow at him but he smiled at you after. “Are you really going to subject me to an afternoon without your lovely company, Y/N?”

“Your sisters are fit company, duke.”

Louis heaved an impressive fake sigh. “No matter. I shall have your unmitigated attention tomorrow, Y/N.” He took your hand and kissed your knuckles, deliberately taking longer than what was appropriate.

You bent a much more elegant curtsy than the one you gave the prince. “Louis.”

You rose when Louis dropped your hand. Kit still had his eyes on you. You shivered despite being under the blazing glare of the sun.

“I must confess something to you, Your Royal Highness,” you told Kit as Louis ambled away.

“What is it?” Kit asked as he walked beside you back to the palace.

“I am… not trained to ride a horse,” you said instead. You wanted to tell him that you feared riding the fickle creatures but you could not admit it to him lest he laugh at you.

“That won’t be a problem, Y/N. We shall take the carriage instead.” He smiled easily at you.

He nodded at the footmen who opened the doors to his father’s study. You entered what seemed to be an annex of the library, what with the number of books strewn about the table and the shelves teeming with more leather-bound tomes.

“Father, I wish to take Y/N to the square today. She told me you require that she has a chaperone with her when going out of the palace grounds?” Kit asked loudly in the room.

“Why are you taking her to the square, Your Royal Highness?” The Grand Duke asked instead.

You bowed down at the man. “Your Grace.”

He did not seem to pay you any mind. “It is improper, Your Royal Highness, for you to take a commoner on your trips to the square. People will talk.”

“She is a guest of my father’s, Grand Duke. I don’t see any reason why she should not be afforded the same courtesy as with the other guests of this palace.” The prince said.

“People will talk—” The Grand Duke tried once again.

“People do not know that she and I are wed. I was under the impression that you and father made sure the secret remain thus.”

“Your Royal Highness, it is not proper.”

“So is your insistence that I not bring her wherever I please. I would exercise caution with my next words, Grand Duke. You are speaking to the prince.” Kit said. It was the first time you had heard him use such an authoritative tone of voice. “Now, where is my father?”

“Calm down, my boy. No need to argue with the Grand Duke. He is simply worried that people will think our guest is your chosen bride.” The king said.

You bobbed another curtsy at the king who had just entered. “Your Majesty.”

“You said she is to require a chaperone. Is there one you have chosen for her or is she free to choose?” Kit asked his father.

“One of your cousins could chaperone her, Kit.”

“Louis is spending his time with his sisters. Can’t she just take her maid with her?”

You saw the king wave his hand away in agreement. “Fine. Now, leave us. We are quite busy.”

“Very busy,” claimed the Grand Duke as he looked at you with his spiteful eyes. “Such a problem you have brought upon us, girl.”

You bowed your head, breathing deeply and quietly. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, Your Grace.”

“Let’s go, Y/N.” Kit said. He touched your elbow and led you out of the study. He had left you to get Abigail while he went ahead to instruct one of the footmen to ready the carriage. When everything was ready and done, you both boarded the coach. Kit specifically asked that Abigail ride with the coach up front so that he may have time to talk to you about certain matters.

“Forgive me for being absent these couple of days, Y/N,” Kit said as the carriage rolled forward.

You were sat in front of him, your back to the road. Kit had changed into a less formal coat, its base the color of moss with golden ropes artfully embroidered to give its regal design. His cravat was the color of his eyes, blue and beautiful. He looked sinful as he sat before you with an air of nonchalance. He and Louis were cousins and although there were similarities between them, Kit was far more superior, not only in rank but in other things as well. Louis was a braggadocio whilst Kit was more reserved. He let his presence speak for himself.

“No need to apologize, Your Royal Highness,” you told him with a shy smile.

Truly, there was no need for him to apologize to you. You knew he had been quite busy, especially when you heard that the Princess Chelina was hoping to arrive earlier than was expected of her. The palace had been running amok with all the preparations for her arrival and for the feast that was for the anniversary for the death of Queen Amalie. You had wanted to help in any way you can but you never found the perfect moment to offer it. You also had not wanted to be a burden to them, remembering the unkindly words the Grand Duke had said to you.

“I wish for you to call me Kit, Y/N.” Kit said as he watched you. “You call my cousin by his name. What makes mine any different from his?”

You touched the daisy that was still in your hands. “The duke is… not as unattainable as you, Your Royal Highness.”

“Kit.” Kit insisted. “And unattainable? I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I—”

The carriage lurched and you were thrown from your seat and onto Kit’s lap. You felt his hands on your arms as he held you steady. He peered down at you, eyebrows drawn in concern. Your hands braced his thighs and you felt the corded muscles under his leather breeches. Your heart thudded in your chest and you swore you heard them thunder in your ears. You swallowed as you looked at his mouth then his eyes.

“Are you all right, Y/N?” he asked, worry marring his features.

You nodded mutely, still entranced by the blue of his eyes.

“Perhaps it is best you sit beside me.” He helped you up and planted you beside him, securing you closer to him when the carriage lurched again.

He called for the Captain. You heard Kit instruct him the stagecoach to drive carefully should you be thrown from your seat once more.

You felt your body grow hot and you had no idea if it was because you were surprised at being thrown across the carriage or because you were sat beside your husband. You did not dwell overmuch on the feeling because you did not want to put a name to it lest it made you hope.

“I am fine now, Your Royal Highness. No need to keep me locked in my seat.” You told him, clearing your throat because it had suddenly gone dry.

Kit pulled his arm away and you breathed easier. “I shall have to teach you how to ride horseback so we do not encounter such problems like this when we travel to the square again.”

At the mention of horseback, you felt your heart wedge in your throat. You clutched your hands together, feeling them damp. “I—I thank you, Your Royal Highness.” You said as you swallowed thickly. “I look—look forward to it.”

He gave a thoughtful hum. “No, you don’t.”

You turned to him. You found him regarding you silently.

“Are you afraid of horses, Y/N?” he asked gently.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “An absurd fear, I know,” you said before he could.

“Is that where you got your scar from?”

You felt his finger brush against the side of your face, touching your healed skin. “I had been thrown off a horse when I was much younger. Its hooves almost trampled me if it weren’t for my father who had pulled me from under the angry animal. It instead caught my cheek and I was left with this as a reminder of that day.”

“How do you go about your travels if you don’t ride a horse?” he asked.

“I travel mostly by sea.” You gave a small wistful smile. “I confess I have found my sea legs long before I could properly ride a horse.”

He smiled at you. “Then we shall make a day of it. I shall still teach you. One of the mares has a very kind temperament. It shouldn’t be spooked so easily.”

“That’s very kind, Your Roy—”

“Call me Kit, please. And you have not answered my question. How am I unattainable while my cousin is?”

You looked down on your lap, playing with your fingers. The daisy had fallen on the floor of the carriage now, its white petals dirtied with boot marks.

“He is a but a duke. His… title makes me less nervous around him.” You told him.

“I make you nervous?” Kit asked.

You looked at him shyly. “Very much so.”

“We must remedy that, then. If all it takes is for you to be comfortable around me to call me by my name, then we shall do it.” Kit’s face turned thoughtful once more.

“There is no need for that.” you said.

“Then you shall call me by my name?” Kit watched you closely, his face now hopeful.

“Why do you insist that I do?” you asked, amused.

That seemed to have baffled the prince because he did not reply right away. You bit your lower lip, looking away.

“You have to forgive me again. I often speak too liberally. I am a curious person.” You said, avoiding his eyes.

“I shall forgive you if you call me by my name.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, smiling a little as you turned to the prince. “You are uncompromising, are you not?”

Kit chuckled. “I take after my father in that aspect. Now, Y/N, it is a simple favor. I hope you don’t deny me of it.”

“If it shall please you, then, very well,” you said. “Kit.”

The prince beamed and all of the air rushed out of your lungs. He looked much more charming than his cousin, much more handsome and princely as his mouth stretched into this stunning smile. Your eyes stayed on the curve of his lips for a while, feeling your body heat up and your cheeks go aflame with your blush. Never, never had you ever had this reaction before.

“It pleases me, Y/N, to hear my name from your lips.” He grinned.

You smiled as you settled in your seat, playing with your hands. You both were silent for a while but you felt the change in the atmosphere inside the carriage. It felt different… to be friends with your spouse. It was one thing you did not anticipate happening and one thing your heart should be wary of.

“Where did you learn German?” Kit asked as the carriage rolled to a stop inside the town.

“I had an unconventional upbringing. I wasn’t brought up by a governess because it had been hard to find one willing to travel the seas. Instead, my father schooled me on the history of our kingdom and the countries he had seen.” Talking to Kit had been much easier now that you had started addressing him by his name and not his title.

A liveried footman opened the door and the prince descended. You gathered your skirts in your hands, emerging from the door. Kit took your other hand as he helped you down. You clutched at him suddenly when your foot slipped, gripping tightly until you were secure on the ground.

“Thank you, Kit,” you whispered.

“My pleasure, Y/N,” he murmured. “Shall we?”

You nodded as you followed beside him. You straightened, calming your heart as you recovered from your near slip.

“I would assume you learnt the language through your father?” Kit asked as he stopped at stalls and looked at the various fruits and vegetables that were for sale.

You stopped beside him. “Yes, and through the people. While my father worked, I went on excursions. I talked to the citizens of the country and learned everything I could through experience.” You smiled at the merchant. “Your apples look quite delicious, sir. I think them worthy of a position in a nobleman’s table.”

The man preened at your praise. “I thank you, Miss. Please, have one as my thanks.”

“Oh, I thank you but I would not wish for you to miss on a sale.” You told the man.

“Do you want one?” Kit asked beside you.

You turned to the prince. “Only if you shall, Your Royal Highness.”

“Give us a basket of your finest apples,” Kit commanded and nodded at the Captain, who was standing behind him.

You heard the jingle of the coin. Kit passed you an apple and you thanked him, holding the luscious fruit in your hands.

“Thank you, Your Royal Highness, and Miss.” The man said as he pocketed his coins.

“I gather you not only read German but you also speak it?” Kit asked once you had advanced from the stall.

“I would say I speak many languages. I am often the topic of conversation when I come with my father during his meets with other dignitaries and noblemen. As I am a curious person, I took it upon myself to study their languages so I knew what they were talking about.” You smiled at a flower seller. “Your blooms are very beautiful, madam, and their scent so fragrant.”

“Thank you, Miss.” When she saw the prince, she bent into a curtsy. “Your Royal Highness.”

Kit nodded at the woman. “What is it they talk about?” He turned to you.

You had bent over at one of the flowers, smelling the sweet scent of the rose. “They are surprised that my father opted to bring his daughter with him, not his son. I have no siblings and I have nothing to do whilst my father is away. I always insisted that I come along with him because I am fascinated with his work. The other dignitaries and noblemen think me overambitious for wanting to be like my father, since the fairer sex can only be for the home.”

You straightened and turned to the prince, only to find him hand you a bouquet of lavenders.

“Your favorite, if I remember correctly?” he asked as he presented the buds and blooms to you.

You smiled softly, taking the bunch from his hands. “Yes, they are, Kit.” You shyly put your nose on the buds, inhaling its sweet scent.

Kit smiled and he thanked the flower seller. He gestured for the way and you both ambled on.

“Was your father made aware of these topics?”

You nodded. “It is a difficult situation for him; to try and defend his daughter and risk not brokering agreement with the country or to let them insult me but have an agreement done. I developed thick skin since then. I’ve learned to not care for their words because it would not give me success if I do let it dishearten me.”

You both talked as you made your way around the square. People bowed and curtsied at the prince while you commented on the things you have found beautiful or worthy of praise. It was not as beautiful as the markets in Castilla or in Florence but it had it’s own charm unique only to your kingdom. The people were friendlier and happier. They seemed to enjoy their labour, instead of whinging about it.

It was nearing nightfall when you both rode back to the palace. You had learned a lot from Kit as well. He had told you of his aspirations for the kingdom, the laws he wanted to pass and proclaim. He talked more of his mother and her plans for more international trade. He had even asked for your opinions because you had seen what it was like in the other countries while he only learned them from books. For the first time since you had decided you wanted to be a diplomat, Kit’s simple question made you feel like you were one step closer to achieving it.

The merchants all had offered a piece of their sale to the both of you and you arrived at the palace bearing one of everything that was available for purchase in the square. Your most prized possession was the bouquet of lavenders he had given you and you had only let it go for Abigail to bring to your chambers.

“I shall warm your bed for you, miss,” Abigail said when you all had arrived back in the palace.

“Thank you, Abigail. Please, take some of the fruits for yourself and for the kitchen staff. I shan’t be able to eat them all.” You alighted the carriage with the prince’s help once more.

Abigail smiled and bowed at both you and the prince. “Thank you, miss. Your Royal Highness.”

“Let us tell father you have arrived. Perhaps he wishes to know you would like to go have dinner as well.” Kit grinned.

You chuckled lightly. “Do not tease your father, Kit. He is merely worried.” You followed him.

“Then I shall be happy to report that there’s no reason for him to be. We have both survived the trip to the square unscathed.”

You both smiled at each other.

The doors to the dining hall opened and Kit strode in. You stepped behind him.

“You took your time, my boy, but it is no matter.” The king said. He stood from his seat at the head of the table. “Come, Kit, and welcome the Princess Chelina of Zaragoza.”

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The Accidental Princess (Part 4)

Prince Kit x Reader

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

Chapter Summary: You make a startling discovery

Word Count: 6.7k words

Warnings: period typical misogyny, not period accurate, that's it??

A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS, EVERYONE! I know not everyone celebrates Christmas so I hope you guys enjoy your day! Here is an advance gift for you guys who are reading The Accidental Princess!

Masterlist

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

You had known little about Zaragoza. You were more knowledgeable of its neighbor, Castile, since you had lived in the beautiful place for quite some time. Zaragoza belonged in Aragon and it was to be your next itinerary, had you not been detained in the palace for your own childish fault. You would have loved to see the country and its people and learn of its culture and language.

“May I present, the Princess Chelina of Zaragoza.” The Grand Duke announced with a flourish. “My niece.”

You kept your curiosity to yourself as to how the Grand Duke was related to such a princess. Princess Chelina bore no resemblances to the awful man. In fact, you would not have even guessed they were kin if she had not referred to the Grand Duke as “uncle,” despite the many times it has been said that they were. Where Princess Chelina’s features were exotic, the Grand Duke’s was ordinary. Perhaps he has married an aunt of the princess, you thought silently.

You watched as the Prince Kit walked towards his betrothed, taking her hand in his and bowing over it. He dropped a kiss on her knuckles. “Princess Chelina,” he said in that princely voice of his.

The princess of Zaragoza smiled graciously, an action that very much told you that she was a true-blooded princess. “You are as handsome as your picture, Your Royal Highness.”

“May I present our guest, Miss Y/N Y/L/N,” the king said.

You dropped into an elegant curtsy. “Your Royal Highness,” you revered.

“She is the daughter of one of the kingdom’s most capable diplomats,” the king said. “Have a seat, girl, next to the Duke of Granville.”

There was little conversation from you during dinner. Louis regaled everyone with his tales of his latest travels to the Moorish cities and he often included you and the princess in the conversation. Your replies were reserved and you let the princess tell more of her single-country travel. You did not want to seem overeager to share your trips because the Grand Duke had been eyeing you disdainfully since you had set foot in the dining hall. Whatever it was you did, it did not remove the anger and disgust in the eyes of the noble.

When dinner had come to an end, Louis had offered to escort you to your chambers. You had agreed and bid everyone a good night before leaving the dining hall with your hand on your friend’s arm.

“You look down, my dear Y/N. I thought time away from me would refresh you,” he jested.

You gave him a demure smile. “I fear I was wrong, Louis.” You said.

“Wrong?” Louis asked incredulously. “Has the world turned on its axis? Have you bumped your head on the carriage on your way to the square? What has happened for you to say such words that I did not realize were in your vocabulary?”

You chuckled, squeezing his arm affectionately. “I was wrong in telling you that I will not miss you when I left. I confess I did miss your… stimulating company, however vexing you are.”

Louis chuckled at your jape. He ambled on but walked in the direction opposite the hallway that led to your chambers. Instead, he went down the stairs.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you passed a narrow hallway.

“I saw you did not finish your food and I figured that perhaps the quail was not to your liking.” he said as he led you down further.

Scents of savory meats and freshly baked bread wafted to your nose and you smiled. The quail was fantastically done, much more delicious than that of other countries’ cuisine but it was not your appetite that was the problem.

You had only started being comfortable around Kit and you knew it would not do well to keep company with him, what with the princess’s arrival. The Grand Duke will surely keep an eye out for you intently now, in case you tried something that would cause a broken engagement between the prince and the princess. While you had told Kit that you were quite all right with being the subject of other dignitaries’ and emissaries’ ire and scandalous conversations, the way the Grand Duke eyed you was different and it brought a cold shiver up your spine. You always trusted your gut and the moment you met the adviser to the king, you knew there was something sinister about him.

“You are lost in your thoughts once more, Y/N.” Louis commented as he entered the kitchen. You only gave the man a casual shrug of your shoulders.

The staff all stopped in their work when you both had entered and bowed at the man beside you. “Your Grace,” they collectively called. “Miss,” they said to you.

“We do not wish to disturb you,” Louis said. “If perhaps someone can lead us to where we can take a spot of tea?”

The head housekeeper stood. “Of course, Your Grace. Come this way, please. I shall have one of the maids bring you tea.”

“We shall be making our own, if you don’t mind.” Louis said.

Once upon a time in Granville, Louis had spotted you making your own pot of tea when all of their servants had gone to bed. You had offered to make him a cup and some biscuits to go along with the refreshing drink. Since then, it had become a bit of a nightly tradition during your brief stay that you both share a teapot of your blend of tea and conversation of just about anything that came up to your minds.

“It took me quite a while to convince the housekeeper and cook to let me use the kitchen after dinner,” Louis said.

“Are you losing your touch, Louis?” You teased, smiling, breaking away from him. "I thought your charms worked on everyone? Or has the great Louis Toussaint fallen from his absurdly high pedestal that he placed himself upon?”

The duke looked put off. You grinned.

“Apologize at once,” he commanded but there was no real authority in his voice.

You raised a brow, amused at him. “Tit for tat, my dear duke. You laugh at my expense. I shall do the same to yours.”

He only hummed at your devilish smile. “Would you like biscuits with your tea, pet?”

“Please,” you said with a smile.

You took a pot and walked over to the shelves that housed the canisters of herbal teas and remedies. There were no names on the fronts of the tin and you had to open each one to find out its contents. In one of your travels, your father had brought you along with him to Portugal and you had been able to try an array of tea leaves that were not available anywhere else. They had been the best blend of tea you had ever tasted and you always hoped to find them in the other countries you had traveled to. It was a surprise to find them here in the kitchen of your unassuming kingdom.

Another shock was finding a blend of herbs that you had seen from your herbology book. You had been reading the book the past few days and took it yourself to study every single one that had medicinal properties and also ones that were deemed poisonous. Digitalis purpurea had belonged in the latter group. It was a shock to see it mixed with tea leaves in one of the canisters.

“What has you looking offended, Y/N?” Louis asked as he looked at you. “Don’t tell me they have run out of black tea leaves?”

You looked up from the jar. “No, Louis. They have the tea leaves of your choice. I would need to speak to the cook or to the housekeeper.”

“Whatever for?”

You poured the leaves in your hands and held out a beautiful purple petal that was nestled on top of the tea leaves. “I am sure this flower is poisonous.”

“Poisonous?” Louis asked. He was about to take the petal when you closed your hand on it.

“Don’t touch it.” You scolded.

“But you’re touching it.”

“Louis, I am serious. You might kill yourself if you accidentally put your infected hand in your mouth,” you said. “I shall return to make your tea. Let me take care of this matter first.”

You walked over to the kitchen, finding the housekeeper preparing the biscuits Louis had asked for.

“Madam, may I ask a question?” you asked as you neared the woman.

“Of course, miss. How may I be of help?” The woman straightened.

You held out your open palm, showing to her the tea leaves. “Might I ask where your have bought such beautiful blend of tea leaves?” you asked instead.

You knew better than to alarm the woman that what she was serving was harmful. It would not do well to induce panic among everyone.

She looked at your palm for a while. “I believe that is the concoction of Queen Amalie’s, miss,” the housekeeper replied. “Shall I prepare it for you?”

You smiled politely and closed your palm again. “I thank you but I must decline your offer, madam. Has anyone drank this blend before?”

“Yes, miss. The Queen had only drunk it once.”

You nodded. “I see. Have you served this to any of the members of the household?”

“No, miss, not since one of the maids got sickly from it.”

“May I inquire what happened then?” You poured the leaves back in the jar and closed it tightly.

The housekeeper looked unsure of telling you, hesitating like Abigail did before she answered your question as to what had happened in the palace during your absence in the kingdom.

“Did she seem different at all? Perhaps confused?” you prodded.

It took a while before the housekeeper answered your question. “Yes. She also cried out that everything she looked at was yellow.”

You nodded thoughtfully, remembering that it had been one of the symptoms of Digitalis poisoning. “Now, madam, I do not wish to alarm you but you must know that you cannot serve this specific blend anymore.”

“Might I ask why?”

“I fear this will not benefit anyone.” You told her gently, carefully choosing your words.

“I see.” The housekeeper nodded as if in understanding. “I had been meaning to throw it away but the last maid had removed them from their old tins and transferred them to the current ones without labelling them. I could only remember what it had been named, not what it looked like.”

“I shall be happy to label the tea leaves for you, madam.” You suggested. “But for now, may I keep this? I shall not want you to mistake it for the other tea leaves you have in your shelves.”

The housekeeper nodded.

“Thank you, madam. I would be happy to make you a cup of tea as well, for your service.”

You caught her off-guard with your offer, seeing as she looked at you with utmost surprise. “Oh, miss. I would not want to impose—”

“I am already making tea for me and the duke. What is one more to add to our little pair?” You smiled. “I shall reserve for you a cup. It is my thanks for your answers to my questions and for the biscuits.”

“Oh! I am honored. Thank you, miss.”

You returned to your little table and placed the tin beside Louis.

“Make no comment about the flower, Louis. I do not wish to alarm everyone.” You said as you walked towards the water basin.

“They have served it before?” Louis asked.

You rolled your sleeves up and walked over to the wash basin, dunking your hands in the water. “They have, although it was only for the kitchen staff as the poor victim had been one of the maids.”

You scrubbed your hands thoroughly until they were pink from the water and the soap.

“Now, I am weary of the tea you shall be serving me, pet,” Louis jested.

You chuckled as you wiped your hands. “Shall I leave you to brew your own tea, Your Grace?”

“I’m afraid I am more in danger of poisoning myself if I try and concoct your blend.”

You smiled as you walked back to the shelves. “Would you like a different blend of tea tonight? I was given a recipe for a sleep-time cocktail I wish to try.”

“So long as you would not poison me with your pernicious petals and leaves.”

You chuckled once more. “Now, be kind, Louis.” You took five tins from the shelves and brought them to the table.

“I shall endeavor to be more like you, pet. The kindest of all ladies I have the pleasure of meeting.”

You looked at him with a raised brow. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“We are already friends, my dear Y/N. It has gotten me somewhere. Now, tell me of your trip to the square.” Louis requested.

You opened the warmed pot. “We walked around the square and that is all that happened.”

“I don’t believe you.” Louis scoffed. “You had been gone for the better part of the day. I am sure there is more than walking that had happened.”

You hummed, smiling to yourself. You took precise measurements of each of lemon balm, passionfruit, skullcap, chamomile, and spearmint and added them to the pot.

“Your silence is answer enough.” The duke remarked.

“And pray tell, what that is.” You took the kettle of boiling water and poured it over the blend. “Because I did not give an answer to any question you have asked.”

You walked back to the shelves, letting the tea steep.

“This is a refreshing side of you, Y/N, playing coy. I confess I am considering returning your infatuation with me.”

You chuckled. “Oh, Louis. I am afraid I shall have to turn you down.”

“I know, pet. I am not my cousin, after all.”

Your hand stilled in its action of putting back the jars of tea leaves and herbs. “ I don’t know what you mean,” you told the duke with a forced tone of lightness.

The duke chuckled. “I shall stop. I do not wish to vex the person knowledgeable on poisonous plants and tea herbs. I would like to see another day.”

“And see the Princess Chelina too, perhaps?” You tried, turning to your friend.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” he said to you with an insincere tone and you chuckled.

“Now, now, playing coy does not become you,” you teased. “I saw how often you addressed the princess during dinner. You always asked her opinion even in the most banal of things. The Louis I know would have monopolized the entire conversation.”

“You are making me to be the villain. I included you in the conversation as well, even though you had nary an input.”

“There was nothing for me to say,” you said simply. You resumed putting back the jars.

“Tell me, Y/N. Why was the Grand Duke looking at you so disdainfully? What fault have you done to receive such ire from the man?” he asked after some time.

You remained quiet, finishing your task before you turned back to the teapot. You wanted to tell Louis about the dilemma you had put yourself in. You had trusted him with some innocent secrets before but you would not risk having him know about this one. The fate of the kingdom relied on your marriage being a secret, especially now that the princess has arrived.

“You are kind which is why I do not understand the malice in his words whenever he is forced to address you.”

You sighed. “I am afraid I cannot tell you, Louis.” You looked at him with a helpless shrug. “I am sworn to secrecy.”

“Even to your dearest friend?”

You nodded. “Should I let it out, I fear I am in danger of being sent to the dungeons for the rest of my life.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m afraid not.”

Louis searched your face before nodding. “Okay. I shall take your word for it.”

You smiled gratefully. You brought the pot over to him and poured the tea in three cups. The housekeeper entered with a tray of fresh biscuits and you made the tea to her liking, surprising the woman. She took it appreciatively, insisting that she leave you and Louis even if you had offered for her to stay. There was no fighting the woman so you relented but not before telling her that you wished to have your breakfast here as you would be doing the labelling of the tea leaves.

“May I ask a question, Louis,” you asked as you poured the last of the contents of the teapot to both of your cups. You both had exhausted yourselves with conversation about the princess, which the duke had monopolized this time.

“Yes, pet?”

“Do you have any idea how your aunt died?”

“What a somber question after such lovely tea, Y/N.”

You looked at him. “I am curious. All I heard is it had been rather so sudden.”

“Kit would not give me details as to how it had happened. All he had said was she had taken ill after tending to her gardens that morning and then passed on the day after.” Louis slurped a bit at his tea. “I would hazard a guess and say it was the heat of the sun.”

You nodded thoughtfully, considering his words. “The sun can be unforgiving to those who are not used to its rays.”

“Perhaps that is the reason why we are in need of hats?”

You chuckled lightly. “Other than they are fashionable, I should think so.”

Louis broke off a biscuit and offered the other half to you. “What shall we do tomorrow?”

“I would be kept to the kitchen. I would need to label the teas and find out if there are more of those flowers mixed in the tea leaves.” You replied as you took the halved biscuit.

“It is odd, isn’t it? Finding such dangerous plant amongst these harmless leaves.”

You nodded. “It truly is. It shall be quite an undertaking to find them all. You must suffer your sisters’ company again, duke, during my absence.” You nibbled on the pastry. “Or you can come along with your cousin and his fiancé. I am sure you would want to be in the presence of the Princess Chelina after what has transpired during dinner.”

“You are too astute for your own good, pet.” Louis said good-naturedly. “I shall do that, as per your suggestion. Although, I confess, I shall miss you again.”

You chuckled as you drank your remaining tea. When you both had finished your conversation and tea, Louis escorted you back to your room. Abigail had started the fire in the fireplace and warmed your bed for you, even placing the bouquet of lavenders in the middle of your bed. She had helped you unlace your dress and your corset and slip into your nightgown. You had thanked her once again for her help and had let her leave your room before you went over to your desk. You kept the tin of the dangerous tea blend out of reach, in a place you knew Abigail would not reach for. Taking your notebook, you sat on your seat and wrote with the lemon juice ink.

Come morning, you slipped into a less formal dress, opting for a simple skirt and shirt, before going down to the kitchen. You brought with you the book on herbology and some writing implements.

“Good morning, miss!” The housekeeper greeted with a smile. “I would like to thank you once again for the cup of tea. I confess I had never had such good rest than I had last night after drinking your blend of tea.”

You smiled at her. “You are most welcome, madam. I would be happy to share with you the recipe.”

“I will be delighted.” She led you back to the table where you and Louis had sat the night before. “I shall bring your breakfast shortly, miss. Shall I make you a pot of tea?”

“I shall be doing my blend once again, madam, if you do not mind.”

“Of course, miss,” the housekeeper said. “Do you require anything else for when you are to label the jars?”

“A roll of twine and a pair of scissors, if you please.” You put your book down on the table. “I shall try not to be in the way of your duties, madam.”

The housekeeper bobbed a curtsy and left you to your devices. You took down all the jars from the shelves and splayed them across your little worktable, peeking at the contents. You examined each leaf carefully, comparing buds and flowers to the book you had brought along, and when you had deemed them safe, you returned them in their jars. It was a surprise to not only find Digitalis purpurea in the tins but also Aconitum napellus in some of them. You needed to have a talk with the Cook with regards to your findings.

The housekeeper brought along your breakfast and the materials you asked for, as well as a warmed pot for your tea. You thanked her and when she left, you started on making another blend of tea. As it was steeping, you took to writing down the contents on the piece of parchment you had brought along. With the twine, you tied it to the body of the jar and repeated the process for the rest.

“His Majesty, the King, requires his morning tea, miss,” the cook said as she had entered your little alcove.

You looked up from tying the last label into the jar. “I confess I do not know how he takes his tea, madam. Although I do have a pot ready. Where does he take it? Let me bring it up to him.”

“Oh. I shall let the butler bring it to him.”

“It is fine, Cook. I am sure the butler is busy as well.”

The cook looked uneasily at you. “It is improper, miss.”

“I am merely being helpful. I saw that you needed all the help available for tomorrow’s feast. Should he question me, I shall tell him that I insisted upon it.” You smiled softly.

She nodded but still looked at you very unsurely. “Very well, miss. I shall prepare the biscuits for you.”

“Thank you, Cook.”

She returned with a tray and had told you that he took his tea in the gardens. You brought it with you, following the directions she had given and found the monarch sitting alone under the refreshing canopy of the tree. You walked over to him, curtsying carefully so as to not topple the warm teapot.

“Where is the butler, child?” The king asked as you placed down the tray beside him.

“He is busy, Your Majesty. I took it upon myself to bring you your tea. I believe they are hard at work for the feast tomorrow night.” You poured the tea in his cup carefully. “Would you like milk and honey for your tea, Your Majesty?”

“A bit of lemon and honey, child. Thank you.”

You did as you were told, putting in a squeeze of lemon and a spoon of honey, before passing the cup and saucer to the king.

“I shall leave you to your tea, Your Majesty.” You said as you curtsied once more.

“Stay, Y/N.”

You nodded and stood before him.

“Have a seat. I don’t stand for ceremony during breakfast. I fear it makes it hard to digest the meal when one hovers above me.”

You gave a small smile and sat on the other available seat. You watched as the monarch sipped at his tea before frowning at the cup.

“Is the tea not to your liking, Your Majesty?” you asked carefully.

“Is this a different blend? I find it tastes quite differently from the one my butler often brings me.”

“I could bring you another pot of tea, Sir. Your usual and to your liking.”

“No, child, no need for that. On the contrary, I find this rather invigorating. It has a lively taste to it, if you understand my meaning.”

You smiled. “I thank you for the compliment, Sir.”

He raised a whitened brow at you. “This is your doing?”

You nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“You are knowledgeable on tea leaves, I gather?”

“Not quite, Sir. I only remember the tastes of those I love to drink and try to recreate them as much as I can.”

“You have quite a talent for making tea, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

You both sat in silence, the king drinking his tea while you watched over in case he needed help in any matter.

“What shall be your plan after your divorce, child?”

You straightened and cleared your throat. “I shall travel with my family once more, Sir. Perhaps remarry if I find someone who shall have me.”

“Your heart is not spoken for?”

You looked down on your hands, playing with your fingers carefully. How was one to tell that your heart belonged to the prince? Especially to his father who, like the Grand Duke, wanted to be rid of you?

“My heart belongs to someone I cannot have, Sir.” You looked up to the king and found him watching you. He beheld you the same way his son did and your heart ached at the comparison.

“It shall be a feat to find someone who can make my heart sing like it does whenever I look at the one I love.” You gave a small smile and looked away.

“Is it Kit?”

You looked down on your lap once more.

“He is to marry a princess, child. I hope you see that this will be an advantage for the whole kingdom.”

You nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Zaragoza is a big territory. It would do well for our kingdom to be in alliance with them.”

You nodded quietly. You understood his plan.

“You must leave him be. If he wishes for your presence, decline it. It will not do well for you to spend more time around him since you and he shall be divorced.”

“If this is what you wish for, Your Majesty, I shall.”

“I wish for nothing more but to see the kingdom in capable hands. I trust my son, Y/N, and I trust that his marriage to the Princess Chelina shall herald the kingdom to greatness it is promised.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. I wish the same for the kingdom.” You did, truly.

“And with you out of the way, it shall be easier. Zaragoza is a bountiful country. The princess has brought with her what our little kingdom needs.”

Your heart broke at the thinly-veiled insult. “I confess I had not been to Zaragoza before, Sir,” you said instead.

“Yes. It was your father’s next travel. Do not worry, child. You and my son shall be divorced before your father’s trip. You may have the chance to come with him and see the country. In time, you shall forget about my son and he shall forget about you.”

You swallowed. “Of course, Your Majesty.” When the silence had become unbearable, you stood. “Forgive me for being too forward, Sir, but I must go.”

You gave a curtsy and left the monarch on his own.

Kit did not know how the Princess Chelina was related to the Grand Duke. He had expected that her attitude would be the same as the nobleman’s but it was not. She was soft-spoken and intelligent and she conducted herself to be a capable princess. A worthy queen, if he was honest. She had all qualities that a future queen should possess and he should have counted himself lucky that he was paired off with the likes of her. She was all that the kingdom needed but for him, she lacked something.

She was not you.

You had been jolly during the trip to the square, talking to him so freely like he had found you doing with his cousin. You had spoken with no inhibitions and he delighted in every single thing that came from your beautiful mouth. There was no mistaking that you were intelligent as well with your splendid ideas and eloquent praises. Your compliments also flowed freely as you regarded the denizens of the kingdom. You were vivacious in the square and he was right into thinking that you needed the time away from the cold palace.

When you both had returned, he had planned to take his dinner with you away from the dining hall. He wanted to get to know you more, even though he had spent most of the travel to the square asking about you. There were always more to learn about you and he knew he would have devoted the entirety of the dinner just listening to everything you wished to say. He did not have the opportunity to do so because the Princess Chelina had arrived.

“Y/N, there you are,” he called as he saw you in the kitchen.

He had asked his cousin where you were since you weren’t present on their little excursion. Louis had told him that you took it to yourself to help label the jars of tea leaves while the rest of the kitchen staff were busy for tomorrow night’s feast.

“I was hoping we could resume our conversation from where we had stopped yesterday,” he told you. He leaned his hip on the edge of the table as he looked at your face.

You gave a sad but polite smile. “I’m afraid I cannot, Your Royal Highness.”

He raised a brow at his title. “I thought we had made progress? That you were to call me Kit?”

You shook your head at him. “We had but it’s highly improper for me to address you as such when your future queen is here.”

“She’s with my cousin.”

You gave him a wry look and he chuckled. He was feeling quite naughty, after all. “You know what I meant,” you said in a scolding tone.

“Well, my parents were never formal when they were addressing each other.”

Your delicate brow raised at his words. “I fail to see how that’s relevant with me calling you by your name.”

“They were married. We are married—”

“Kit!” you exclaimed in surprise.

He grinned. “There. We are back to calling each other by name.”

You chuckled lightly. “Uncompromising as ever.”

“Merely determined, Y/N,” he said.

You hummed. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“It would please me if you came with us on a ride around the kingdom. The Princess Chelina wishes to see the extent of it.”

“I cannot ride a horse. I had said as much yesterday,” you told him.

“And I had said I will teach you.” He bent his head to look into your eyes. “Although, I might not be the best instructor to teach you how to ride side saddle but I can teach you how to ride one as though you are going on a hunt.”

“Kit…”

“As much as I delight in hearing my name from your lips, I would rather you accept my offer,” he insisted. “I promise I shall not put you in harm’s way.”

“That is not what worries me.”

“The mare is also quite harmless.”

“Not that, either.”

“Have you nothing to wear? I won’t mind seeing you in breeches once more.”

You raised a brow at him then shook your head. “Kit, I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Kit looked at you, sighing as he stood straight. “Did the Grand Duke forbid you from talking to me?”

“No.”

“Did my father?”

You kept silent and he knew of the answer. He took a deep breath before regarding you once more.

“What did he tell you?” Kit asked.

“Kit, I’m sorry.”

“Tell me what he told you, Y/N. I know he is king but that is rather rude of him to disallow you from talking to me.” When you did not give him an answer, he called your name again.

“He said that should you wish for my presence, I will have to decline it.” You looked into his eyes and he longed to remove the pain that he saw there. “I have already caused enough trouble. I do not wish to put the kingdom in harm’s way should I disobey your father.”

“I don’t see how spending time with me shall do that.”

You sighed. “You have to favor spending more time with your intended. We are to be divorced. I do not see the need for us to spend more time together when, in a matter of a month or even less, I shall be separated from you.”

His fist clenched as he perched on the edge of the table. His upcoming nuptials to the Princess Chelina was only abstract in his mind. Now that you had put a time to it, he had only realized how soon it was… and how soon you would be gone from him as well.

“Believe me, I would not want anything more than to spend time with you, but I would not want the kingdom to lose a powerful alliance in Zaragoza.”

He nodded singularly. You were right. Of course, you were right. Spoken like a true diplomat, he thought proudly but also dismally.

“I am sorry, Kit. Truly, I am.” you told him in a sad tone. He was, too, but that would not deter him from wanting to be near you.

“Let our meetings be clandestine, then,” he suggested. “I want to spend time with you and you had told me as much that you do too. We can meet each other secretly, perhaps when the palace is asleep.”

You looked at him and he saw in your eyes how you wanted to say yes to his words. “It is not a wise idea, Kit.” you said instead.

“We shall meet in my mother’s garden.” He insisted. “No one else sets foot in the garden other than the gardener and he only does so in mornings.”

“Kit…”

“Y/N.”

“You’re betrothed to the princess.”

“You are a princess.”

You blew out a sigh. “A mistake, surely. A childish one.”

“Still a princess.”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, Kit. Your father’s right. I shouldn’t be dallying with you because I may make more mistakes.”

“You were not aware that you took a marriage contract when we were younger.”

“And look at where it had brought us now.”

“It brought you to me.” Kit said with a small hopeful tone in his voice. “Please, Y/N. Consider my suggestion. We shall rendezvous in my mother’s garden tonight when everyone has gone to bed.”

You were silent for a while. Dread sat on the bottom of Kit’s stomach as he waited for you. When you nodded, however, his moods had buoyed and he felt himself beam at you.

“Now, I must go, Kit.” You said with a sigh.

“What? Go? So soon?” Kit scrambled to his feet. “Where are you going?”

You looked around the place, perhaps finding an exit for you to slip past. He saw your eyes land on the book in your hands.

“The library?” It ended up sounding like a question and Kit knew it was a flimsy excuse just to get away from him, as per his father’s orders.

He gave a determined nod. “Then I shall escort you.”

“Kit—”

“I shall take whatever time we have with each other. If it means we walk towards the library, so be it. My father would not find fault in that.” He gestured for you to go ahead of him.

You gave a small sigh as you walked. “Do not villainize your father.”

“I am finding it hard not to.”

You looked at him with a raised brow. He raised a brow back at you as well. You smiled that soft, beautiful smile at his naughtiness.

“I see you’re still reading your book on herbology.” he commented as he nodded on the book in your hands.

“It is quite fascinating. I have learned a lot from it.”

“My mother has more books on that subject. She loved her gardens and tended to it whenever she can, much to the gardener’s dismay.” He smiled at the memory of the gardener panicking when he saw how the queen had thrust her hands in the soil to pull the weeds off her precious roses.

“Your mother loves the garden?” you asked. There was an unusual curiosity in your tone.

“Yes. It is a passion of hers. She loved receiving bulbs and seeds because she would be able to plant them.” He nodded at the footmen and entered the library.

“I get it she knows which ones are poisonous and which ones are not?” you asked.

He raised a brow. “Poisonous?”

You nodded.

“I do not understand what you mean, Y/N.”

You opened the book that was in your hands and showed him an illustration. Digitalis purpurea, he recalled. You had been scribbling the same plant in your scrap of paper a few days back.

“This is a rather poisonous plant, Kit. Although beautiful, it can truly harm people. Imagine my surprise when I found it in the gardens. Some people can be infected with its poison just by simple touch.”

He looked at the plant once more. “I confess I have no knowledge if my mother knows which plants are harmful and which are not.”

You shut the book and looked at him. “It’s no matter. Perhaps an honest mistake that it was planted there.”

Kit nodded. “Of course.” He saw you reach over to the shelves and pull out another leather-bound book.

“What book shall you be reading this time?” he asked as he looked over at the new title of the book you now held.

“Herbs and flowers still, I’m afraid.” You commented. “Are all of these books your mother’s?”

He looked at the volume in your hand and nodded. “Yes. All the French ones are hers. I believe some of the German ones, as well, but I had not seen her read the specific book you were reading. The others, I think, they are from my ancestors. Queen Mariam had a particular fondness for the tree in mother’s garden.”

“Will you point me to the books that are your mother’s?” You put down the book on top of the table.

“Of course,” Kit said as he pulled out a familiar title to him. He passed it to you. “That is one of her favorites.”

You took the book from him and sifted through the pages, seeming like you were looking for something. “Do you know if she has ones about medicinal herbs?”

“She has one on herbs. I believe the Grand Duke gave it to her when he had also given her bulbs and seeds to plant.” He took a book from the shelf and passed it to you. “I am unsure if they are of the medicinal sort.”

You hummed at him absently, flipping the pages before landing on a spread of Digitalis purpurea.

“You are rather curious about this plant, Y/N.” he said.

You only looked at him and closed the book. “I shall bid you a good day, Kit. Thank you for escorting me to the library and showing me your mother’s books.”

He sighed as he straightened. He knew there was no arguing when you had made up your mind. “My offer on teaching you how to ride a horse still stands Y/N. I hope, in addition to our clandestine meetings, that you may take me up on that as well.”

You hesitated for a while before you nodded. You curtsied before him. “Good day, Your Royal Highness.”

He could only watch as you left. Somehow, he did not like seeing your retreating figure, feeling it like an omen to your future.

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The Accidental Princess (Part 8)

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 Summary: You tell of truths you had been meaning to tell

Word Count: 10.6k words

Warnings: not sure if there is period-typical misogyny on here but might as well add it to the warning, bit of fluff, smidgen of angst, once that is not as nicely written as others?

A/N: Hi everyone! How's everyone doing? Advance Happy Valentine's Day y'all! I only have 2 more chapters after this, plus an epilogue, so stay tuned! There is no promise the next few chapters would be as long as this one (maybe longer, maybe shorter, who knows?) TAGLIST IS CLOSED! (apparently you can only add 50 mentions? i wasn't aware of this before???) As per uzhe, thoughts, reviews, comments, suggestions, requests (and reblogs) are very much welcome! Not beta'd, we own up to our mistakes. Please enjoy Part 8!

Masterlist

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

You poured hot wax on your folded missive, taking a sprig of lavender from the bouquet Kit had given you weeks past and placed it atop. You watched as it dried, sealing your letter written in lemon juice ink from all the world to read.

Your talk with the gardener had proved fruitful as he confirmed your suspicions of which plants and bulbs the Grand Duke had gifted the late queen. They had been of the poisonous variety, with their insidious properties masked by their beauty. The gardener had been surprised that the queen insisted they be planted alongside her harmless flowers. He had no choice but to follow through her wish and had planted the pernicious blooms in the open garden, despite his fear of people being poisoned for accidentally picking at them.

You had wanted to tell the man that his fears had come true, that the blooms he had planted claimed the life of the very queen who had asked them to be there. You refrained from doing so, not wanting the poor man to blame himself on a death that was not his fault.

It had been the Grand Duke’s design; you were sure of it now. Why the nobleman did it, you had not one idea. Even if you were adamant in knowing of it, the only way to learn of it was to directly ask the man.

You shivered. The very thought of nearing the man, so much as addressing him, sent a wave of coldness about you. He was sinister and vile, and he had threatened to get rid of you for crossing him. If you asked him why he did what he had done, he very well could have killed you for even asking such a question.

Your thoughts moved to the vials of antidotes you kept on your person. Since discovering his penchant to use harmful herbs, you were careful of the food you ate. You only drank tea that you had brewed yourself and ate food only after he had taken a few bites of his. You were highly suspicious of everything that involved the Grand Duke that you kept a close watch of his every action.

Once the wax seal has dried, you replaced your writing implements in their case and kept the letter in your bureau away from prying eyes. You were yet to address the letter but you knew the person you ought to have the missive read be someone you trusted the most.

As you were clearing your desk, hurried raps sounded from your door. Your heart leapt to your throat, making you squeak when they knocked hard again.

“Y/N!” Louis’s voice sounded from the opposite side of the door.

You breathed out a sigh of relief, swallowing the bile that had come up. You had thought it was the Grand Duke, who had come to make good of his threats to you. Surely, it was not beyond the man to do so, especially since he wanted you gone from the palace.

You opened the door, looking up at your dearest friend’s scowl.

“Louis?” You called.

He barreled his way to your chambers, standing in the middle of it. There was a set look about his face, something that was not seen often on the jolly duke. The only time Louis had been serious—and far less than the one you were currently faced with—was when he had been embarrassed by a guest in his own home.

“What’s wrong?” You asked gently. “Is it Granville? Has something happened to your home?”

He ignored your questions. “Why are you here? Why did the king invite you to the palace?” He inquired instead, surprising you.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Come now, Y/N. It is a simple question. Need I repeat myself or are you deliberately not answering it?”

“What brought this on?” There was something amiss about the duke. He looked angry at you but also there was a hint of betrayal on his face. Your heart clenched at the emotions on his face. It was unusual to see both on him at the same time.

“Answer my question. Why are you here?”

You straightened, hearing the authority in his voice for the first time and not wanting to argue with it. “The king asked me for my help with some matters.” You told him flatly.

He scoffed and shook his head at you. “Really now. Lying? I never thought you would stoop so low.”

You frowned. Ire overshadowed your concern for the man. Lying? You? When had you lied to your dearest friend?

“I’ve never lied to you, Louis. Tell me when I had.”

“You never told me why you were here, Y/N. You never told me the full truth of it.” He paced the room, shaking his head. “You must know that accounts for lying by omission!”

You did not know what had happened for him to question your presence in the palace. He had never been curious in all the time you and he had been here. Why now? you wondered.

“Were you even planning on telling me you’re married to my cousin?”

You felt as though you were drenched in cold water at the surprise of his question. You trembled from within and you hoped it did not show. How did he know? Who told him?

You swallowed and schooled your features.

“From which rumormonger did you get this nonsense?” you asked, affecting your voice with a light tone. You felt a cold knot settle in the pits of your stomach.

Betrayal flared in his eyes. “Stupidity does not become you.”

Your mouth slackened, stunned at his insult. “I beg your pardon—”

“Are you going to deny you’re married to Kit? Are you going to lie to me again?”

“Louis—”

“Did you have your fun, Y/N? Did you enjoy making an imbecile of me for not knowing the truth?” he spat.

You frowned once again, confused that he would think of himself as such. “‘Have fun?’ ‘Imbecile?’” You echoed. “Louis, I would never have fun at your expense.”

“And I had! I had fun at your expense, and you did not even have the decency to tell me you’re Kit’s wife! That you are the princess of his kingdom!” His eyes had gone back to being accusatory.

You swallowed. You did not say anything at all to him.

“You are married to my cousin, who is betrothed to Chelina. You knew what I felt for her. You even tease me for it! What am I, then? A stupid spectator to this farce? Was I only invited so all of you would laugh at me for being oblivious of what is happening around me?”

You shook your head wildly, nearing him. Even if Louis was angry, you knew he would never lift a hand to hurt you. “No, of course not. You’re not stupid. You’re my dearest friend. My best friend.”

“Best friend?” he asked. There was disbelief in his voice. “Even just friends trust each other with secrets,” he ground out.

You felt your eyes water and you shut them tightly, not willing the tears to fall. You were exhausted and troubled. The last thing you wanted was to argue with Louis, or even placate him for your fault.

“The risk was too great for me to tell you, Louis,” you said helplessly, watching the anger in his face dissipate at the quiver in your voice. “You do not know how much I had wanted to tell you the moment you arrived in the palace.”

“But why didn’t you?” He asked.

You ached at the confusion and betrayal in his voice.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that you were married to my cousin?” he asked you gently.

“Because—Because I will not stay married to him.” You breathed out and wiped the tears that sat on the corner of your eyes. “The very reason I am here is so Kit and I could get a divorce. The king wants him to marry Princess Chelina. How would he if my name is still signed in that marriage contract?”

You watched the duke, at the emotions that flitted across his face. He is angry because he felt betrayed that you did not tell him of your secret, you told yourself. His anger was not misplaced.

“I did not wish to keep you in the dark, Louis. I had no choice but to do so. It is the king’s wish that I keep my marriage to Kit a secret. It is a big scandal that the princess of the kingdom is a nobody, a commoner who did not even have a proper basic education.”

You heard Louis sigh. He walked over to your bed and sat on the edge of it. You did the same, sitting beside the duke.

“Since when have you been married?” he asked, his voice tired.

“Since I was six,” you said in a hushed tone.

“You were six when you married Kit.” He repeated in disbelief.

You nodded.

“How did it happen?”

You took a deep breath. “It was my fault.” You told him everything there was to tell; from your mistake of taking a marriage contract to the moment the king had asked of you to come to the palace. And because you felt the guilt of not telling him everything the moment he arrived, you recounted Kit’s confession of love in his mother’s garden as well.

Louis remained still beside you, only listening to your words. His reaction as you went on ranged from confusion at how it had happened, to anger at the way you were addressed and treated when you arrived at the palace, and finally of pity when you told him that you loved his cousin as well but you would not allow yourself to. He only spoke when you had finished.

“Why don’t you tell him you love him, pet?” he asked you, voice soft.

You shook your head. You wrung your hands together before you. “I don’t want to cause another scandal, Louis. He is to marry a princess. The king and the Grand Duke made that very obvious to me.”

“But you’re a princess. Surely, Kit would not have to marry Chelina because he is already bound to you in matrimony.”

“I am a princess only by marriage. It is no good to them.”

“Because?”

“I have nothing to offer to the kingdom. I am no tool for the prosperity of it.” You shrugged casually but on the inside, you hurt at the unfairness of your situation. “They want him to marry for advantage and who is the better candidate than a princess of a thriving, bountiful country.”

“Does Kit have a say in this?”

You looked at your dearest friend. “Even if he does, he must weigh it against his father’s wishes. I would not want to place him in another predicament when it is my fault that we are in such a problem already.”

“Kit loves you.”

You swallowed painfully, mind replaying that night. “It does not matter.”

“Come now, Y/N.” He scoffed. “‘Does not matter.’ My aunt and uncle were in love.”

“Your aunt was a princess.” You pointed out. “If she were a commoner, they would not have met.”

“And you believe that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

You frowned. Surely, he knew what these political marriages stood for. “If all monarchs had chosen love over their duty, I don’t think the kingdom would thrive or be as how it is now. Marriages had always been for alliances. There are the lucky few who love their intended and the unlucky ones who do not but always, always marriages are for advancement.”

“How did you become a pessimist?” He mimicked your frown, not in mockery but in confusion. Like he, you were a jolly person, albeit a tad serious and far less vexatious.

“Only pragmatic, Louis. If I remained married to Kit and be queen, I would not have anything for the kingdom. The last thing you would need is an incapable monarch.”

You knew you spoke the truth. You had nothing for the kingdom, no riches to give, nor a hefty dowry that would be of use. Instead, you only had yourself and your abundance of knowledge from all the traveling you had done. It was nothing that would ensure the prosperous future of the kingdom. You were nothing but a speck of insignificance to the whole of the kingdom.

“What are your plans after your divorce? Where will you be?” Louis asked after some time.

He stood by your fireplace now, watching the cackling embers that warmed your room.

“I shall be traveling with my father again, of course.” You remained on your bed, watching your dearest friend. He seemed to accept the truth fairly quick and found no fault in what you had done.

He raised a brow at you. “You rather you remain in that ship of yours than in the kingdom?”

You shrugged. “There is nothing for me here. I have no reason to stay.”

“Then may I suggest a marriage pact with me, pet?”

You raised a brow at the duke, lips quirking at the absurdity of his idea. “I hope you see the irony in your words, Louis. The very reason I am in this predicament was because I intended a friendship pact that ended in my marriage instead.”

He made a face, scrunching his nose when he realized. You gave a small giggle, your first since telling him of everything. Trust the duke to lighten your spirits, you thought gratefully.

“I may have worded it wrongly but that is what I mean.”

“Is that so?” you teased.

He ignored you. “It is no secret that we share none of that amorous love with one another. At best, we tolerate each other.”

You quirked a brow, amused. He went on with a roguish smirk on his face.

“This pact is more for your protection, pet. I would not want you to be married off to the last ineligible bachelor all because you had been divorced. I do not care for your status.”

“No, I don’t think you would,” you piped in, crossing your ankles under your skirt.

“As the Duke of Granville, I am expected to produce heirs to ensure that the duchy remains in the family.” When he saw your frown, he quickly followed through his statement. “I assure you my intentions are not barbaric."

You hummed, waiting for him to go on.

He cleared his throat and stood straighter, hands behind his back. “I am quite sure there had been hordes of men who had asked for your hand in marriage during your travels. I am sure as well that they sung praises and told you of promises. I shall forego telling you all of those because mine and theirs are all truly one and the same.”

Your lips turned up in amusement. “If you are trying to be romantic, you are failing at it, Louis.”

He frowned at you and you chuckled at the funny expression of his face. “It is not every day I go off proposing to ladies, pet.”

“No, perhaps not. You only go off wooing them,” you said with an affectionate roll of your eyes.

He sighed. You chuckled.

“But carry on,” you urged. You made a show of listening intently to him by turning your face up at him. “It is my only chance to be romanced by the great Duke of Granville.”

He harrumphed, lifting his chin up in a show of pomp. You snickered.

“If you wish to know my promises then, pet, here they are. I am titled. Everything that comes with my title shall be yours when we marry.”

“Of course.” You nodded.

“I shall give you the freedom you crave as well. We can travel far and wide to the places you have not been to. All I wish in return is for your companionship and perhaps, we might be able to produce an heir for Granville.”

You bit on the inside of your cheek. Louis did not ask for much in his suit. He only wanted your companionship and an heir. You would have the freedom you so wish, as well as protection and status. But with marrying Louis, you would be cousins with Kit.

Your heart beat violently in your chest at the thought of your husband. As soon as the divorce was final, you were sure the king would not wait a second more to marry him and the princess. To Kit, you would be nothing more but a distant memory to him, even if he had claimed that he would never forget about you.

But you could not take it. To be cousins with him was much more painful than leaving the kingdom. As Duchess of Granville, you would be oft invited to royal balls and feasts. It was inevitable to not see him.

You swallowed thickly, feeling the burn in your eyes as you started to tear from all the thoughts that came to mind. “Louis…”

Louis must have heard the waver in your voice because his features softened. He returned beside you on the bed. “I knew you would not accept, pet.” He took your hand. “I am cousins with the man who loves you and you love in return. It must be painful for you, even now.”

“Perhaps not as painful as to see the Princess Chelina be married to your cousin.” You turned to your dearest friend, blinking away the tears. “What a farce our lives had become. Me, married and in love with your cousin, and you in love with his betrothed.”

“It is like we are Shakespeare’s characters in his play.” His smile was sad on his face. It looked very unnatural in him and your heart ached at the sight of it. “In spite of all that you had said, you must know, pet, that I am loyal to you. Even when you shall be divorced from my cousin. Whatever it is you wish for me to do, I will do so.”

You smiled at him gratefully. “Thank you, Louis. Then you should know I will do the same for you, even if I had declined to be the future Duchess of Granville.”

He squeezed your hand in thanks and stood. “I shall go now. Thank you for explaining to me what had happened.”

“Before you leave,” you said. It was a good time as any, to give to Louis the letter you had written. You trusted the duke. You knew he would understand.

You stood from your bed and walked over to your bureau, pulling out the secret letter. Louis was a duke and he would have the safety of his title to spare him from the Grand Duke’s wrath should your letter be made public.

“I need you to have this for safekeeping,” you said as you neared him. You held out your letter to him. “You can only open it when I have gone from the palace. And when you do so, promise me you are in a safe place, that you have your men ready to protect you.”

He took the letter gingerly from you. “This sounds rather grave, pet.”

You nodded. “I hope you trust me enough not to ask questions, Louis.”

He nodded and kept the letter in his breast pocket. “I only have but one.”

You looked at him.

“May I know something about its contents?”

You bit on your lower lip, contemplating on just ignoring his request. “It is about what had happened the year before.” You told him instead. You refused to say anything more, hoping your cryptic answer would be enough to quell the obviously growing curiosity in the man.

He only nodded and opened the door. “I promise, pet. I’ll do as you ask.”

You gave a wan smile. “Thank you, Louis.”

He went, leaving you wondering if you had indeed made the right decision.

In the days that followed Louis’s confrontation of you, you kept mostly to yourself. You had finally picked up on the books that you had asked your father for and had finished them all quite quickly. When you had exhausted your selection of novels, it was only then when you would venture to the gardens. You always chose the time Kit would be training with Captain Thibault or when he would be busy in his office so you would not cross paths. It was your way of distancing yourself from the impending heartbreak of the divorce. The lesser you saw of him, the lesser the intensity of the heartbreak would be.

Louis was an amiable companion since he learned you were the princess. He still had his happy mood about him but he took more care of his jests around you. You had assured him that he would not be sent to the dungeons if he joked around you—not that you had any power to do so but it eased the duke’s mind—but he was still cautious of his words.

You did have noticed the longing glances he casted on the Princess Chelina one night at dinner. While the subject of their conversation was a happy one, their tones were not. It added to your heartbreak that your closest friend pined for someone he could not have as well. How unfair the world is, you thought miserably. You understand your misfortune; you brought it upon yourself. Louis was an innocent bystander to all of this. He was not meant to have his heart broken.

“Pet, I seemed to have forgotten something I was meaning to show you.” Louis said as he broke free from escorting you to the kitchen for your nightly tradition of tea. “Would you mind it if I let you go ahead while I retrieve it?”

You smiled gently at your friend. “Not at all. Shall I have the usual biscuits prepared?”

“Please. Perhaps you can ask Cook to prepare for chocolate biscuits as well?”

“Of course.” You smiled. “Go along. I shall have it all prepared once you return.”

You headed towards the kitchen, greeting the servants and the Cook before asking her to prepare the biscuits Louis had asked for. You had also asked for Abigail to bring you some writing implements to pass your time while the tea steeped. When all had been prepared and Louis still away, you took to writing an overdue missive to your father.

Dearest Father,

I have been missing you! Forgive me for not writing so often. It is difficult I fear I had been occupied with matters in the palace; matters not unlike the one I had told you in my last missive. A solution had been found now and we await word from the magistrate. I wish to tell you of everything that has hap I had been doing whilst I was kept here but I fear I will run out of paper to account for all of the happenings. I shall tell you of the important parts of it:

Louis Toussaint arrived in the palace at the same time as I and he has kept me company for my stay. I confess he is still as tedious and as charming as he had been when I first met him. He is not anymore the Marquess of Reading, however. He has taken his father’s title as the Duke of Granville after the former duke passed quite some time ago. He is still unmarried, which comes as a surprise to me. He had proposed to me much to my consternation, which I promptly turned down. I only view him a friend and I had told him of that, to which he agreed. There are no ill feelings towards us with my rejection. I shall hope, though, that when he finds his future Duchess of Granville that she would be tolerant of his rather flamboyant behaviour. Louis is not hard to love but I feel he is quite too much sometimes.

I had met the prince’s betrothed. Chel She is a princess of Zaragoza. She is very soft-spoken and well-mannered, like the Prince Giacomo’s sister. The king had tasked me to accompany her on a trip to the square a few days past. She was very polite with the citizens. I think she shall be a great fit for the prince.

Kit The prince is very intelligent. I had the pleasure of knowing him quite very well during my stay here. His ambitions for the kingdom are wonderful and I know he shall be a great king some day. How I wish I could stay and see the improvements I would love to stay I wish I could remain mar He cares for his father, the king, so much. I had no idea his mother had passed the year before. He still laments her loss and he does everything in her memory. I wish to see him happy before I leave the palace. It is not for his peace of mind but for mine. I love him

You hummed lowly as you wrote your letter, hearing the commotion from the kitchen staff at Louis’s entrance. You dipped your quill in your inkpot and was about to start on another paragraph when you heard a voice.

His voice.

“Louis told me I would find you here.” Kit said with a low voice, as though if he had been any louder, he would have disrupted your peace.

Your hand stopped before the quill could touch the paper. A drop of ink blotted on it and you watched as it spread on the page, mimicking the rising panic in you. You had been successful in your avoidance of him, so successful that you pined for him whenever you had gotten out of his way. Your feared—in your refusal to tell him that you loved him—that him not coming to you was indicative that you were nothing more to him than a fleeting fancy.

But he was here, in the small space you and Louis had claimed to take your tea, because his cousin had told him you would be found here. Oh, Louis. I do not know if I am cross with you or if I am joyed that you had sent your cousin to me, you thought to yourself.

Your chair scraped against the floor as you stood, your hands clasped together before you as you regarded him nervously.

“Kit,” you whispered, voice trembling, nervous to finally be facing him after quite some time evading him.

“Y/N,” he breathed. He looked as nervous as you felt, with his cravat loose and askew on his neck. His hair looked like hands had run over them. Had he, perhaps, kissed the Princess Chelina? He looked rather mussed. He even looked flushed.

You swallowed the jealousy that came up to your throat. “Is he coming?”

Kit’s face fell at your question. You watched in regret as his shoulder slumped forward, his demeanor changing. He swallowed before answering.

“No.” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “I will call him if you wish—”

You shook your head. You were exhausted from running from him. And clearly, Louis had planned this meet between you and Kit.

You both watched each other. For the first time since that night, there had been scarcely any words between you. The air felt thick with unsaid confessions and intense emotions yet none of you were brave enough to voice them. You knew you could not do it, even if you had longed to scream it the moment you ran from him.

You licked your lips and gestured for the chair before you. “Would you like to—”

“Yes,” he replied, quite eager in his response.

Kit wasted no time walking towards the chair opposite yours. He sat after you had but he did not engage you in any conversation because you were silent as well. You quietly folded your missive and kept it away.

You pushed the tea to him when you found him just staying still. “It is a special blend,” was all you said.

He took the cup and drank at it, emitting a satisfied sound when he replaced it on the saucer. “This does not taste the same as the one Father had been drinking.”

You looked at him and tilted your head to the side. “I’m sorry?”

“Father mentioned that he had been drinking your blend of tea.” He told you. “He rather enjoys it than the tea he had from before. He has fared far better than he had since he began taking it.”

You nodded mutely. “That’s good to know,” you said. You thought of what he had said, of the improvement of the king’s health and remembered that. It was another suspicious thing to note, especially since his health had improved over a simple blend of tea.

“Kit—”

“Yes?” He said immediately. He looked at you with eager eyes, watching you closely.

You took your teacup so your hands were occupied. “Since when had your father been sick?” you asked gently.

“Quite a while, I’m afraid.” He replied.

“Since your mother’s funeral?” you asked.

You saw as he watched you with a bit of surprise in his face. “Yes. His health had declined since she had been buried. He had not been better ever since, until he started drinking your tea, that is.”

You nodded, sipping at your drink. “And your engagement to the Princess Chelina?”

His hand hovered above a chocolate biscuit. “What of my engagement?” His voice was quiet and strained.

You bit the inside of your cheek at his tone. “When did you become engaged to her?”

“Y/N, I don’t want to talk about her—”

“Please,” you urged. “I just want to know.”

He took the chocolate biscuit and ate it before answering. “Months after mother’s passing. Father was not getting any better and he decided that I should marry the Grand Duke’s niece so the land may have an heir.”

You nodded. You sipped your tea once more, quiet and deep in thought. It was a sound reason, especially coming from the king who was worried for the future of the kingdom. It was a possibility, then, that the Grand Duke had orchestrated the Queen’s passing so he many instate his niece on the throne. If he had, then it would mean he would have control of the kingdom through his niece. But why would he need to do that if he was already the royal advisor to the king?

“That is an interesting piece of jewelry. I haven’t seen it before on your wrist.” Kit commented, his eyes locked on the bracelet the Princess Chelina had purchased for you. It had become your favorite accessory, wearing it almost every day because the blue stone reminded you of Kit’s eyes.

You touched the stone, small smile on your lips. “Yes, it is new. Princess Chelina bought it for me in the square.”

“In the square?”

You nodded. “It is a product of our kingdom, mined from the very mountains that border us on the east.” You pulled it away from your wrist and held it out to him. “I confess I haven’t seen anything as beautiful as that.”

Kit took it from you, running his finger down the intricate metalwork. “What do you know of those mines?”

You raised a brow at his question, at his tone that seemed unusually suspicious. “The shopkeeper told me of its discovery and the history of the mines. That there had been people who were interested in buying them but never had the chance to do so because your mother had died and your father had not decreed anything about it.”

He nodded absently, eyes still on the gem. Blue on beautiful blue. “The mines were part of my mother’s plan for international trade. No one was allowed to export them without her permission. She believed it is our most precious product.”

“I was told that it is only in our kingdom that these stones could be found. I could see why your mother thinks it precious.” You muttered, eyes turning on to the biscuit plate. “Knowing the nobles’ and the royals’ penchant for shiny, beautiful stones, they would covet the mountains and would likely buy whatever it is you sell them from those mines. I could say so for a fact because I had seen how they had coveted gold when I was in Florence.”

Kit nodded again. “Father wishes to sell the mines, not just the stones. I told him no,” he confided.

“I do not think it a smart idea to sell the mines either.” You murmured as you poured another cup of tea. You refilled Kit’s cup too.

“Why do you think so?”

You sipped your tea, tasting the lemon and peppermint on your tongue. You looked at Kit once more, finding him looking at you instead of the intricate piece of jewelry in his hands. Still in his eyes were the same love and wonder in them. Your heart cried at your refusal to acknowledge how it felt.

“Let us say, if you were to be asked of what to do with the mines, what would you do?” Kit asked when you remained quiet.

You put your tea down, eyes turning to the liquid in it. “I would create more jobs with it.” You replied. You ran your finger on the rim of the cup, watching the small waves that were created on the drink.

“Oh?”

You nodded, looking at him. “Yes.”

“For profit?”

You took a chocolate biscuit, halving it and leaving the other on the plate. “That would only be a consequence of my plan. I would do it for the people.” You ate a piece of the biscuit. “I had the opportunity to talk to some more of the citizens in the square, not just the merchants and shopkeepers but also the peasants. Don’t you think it ironic that the people who take care of our agriculture are the very ones who starve because the wars had left them unemployed after depleting their yield? I thought, perhaps, that if I were to put half of those peasants to work in the mines and the other half to continue working in the fields, then there would be jobs for them without fighting for who gets to sell more of their yield to the merchants.”

Kit watched you quietly, listening to you as you went on about your rant. He kept silent but nodded as you made your points. He then took the other half of your biscuit, smiling softly at you. “You seem to have given your answer some thought, maybe had even readied one long before I could ask you the question.” He teased.

You chuckled at his jest. “It is the truth. There is nothing I want more than to see a kingdom flourish with all of its people. No one should be left behind. Everyone, even the smallest of us, has a purpose.”

There was a sparkle of admiration in Kit’s eye. You preened at the unspoken compliment.

“You are brilliant,” he said with a genuine smile.

You flushed at his words, looking at him shyly through your lashes. “Thank you.”

He placed the bracelet back on your wrist and you shivered as his fingers lingered on your pulse. You were positive he felt the increase in their speed. He did not draw his hand back immediately. Instead, he traced idle figures on your skin and you let him. Because even if you could not have him in your life, you at least had this moment to remember him for the rest of it. You resigned yourself to the comfort of his nearness.

“I see you have your writing materials about,” Kit said after a while.

You looked at the folded paper and the inkpot beside you. You were yet to finish your letter to your father.

“Yes. I was writing to my father. It had been a while since I had last sent a letter. He must be worried about me.” You told him.

“What have you told him?”

“Just… events. Louis’s arrival. The princess’s. I was going to write of my trips to the square.”

“Me too, I hope?”

You looked at him, feeling impish and a teasing smile graced your lips. “Is there something worth mentioning about you? I tried but I could not find any,” you joked lightly.

Kit’s chuckle was explosive; it erupted from the deep of his chest and when it did, it brought with them wrinkles around his eyes. It was a wonderfully joyous expression on his face. You loved watching how his face changed. You loved him, that was that.

“You wound me, Y/N,” he teased back.

“I have not gotten to wounding yet, Kit.” You grinned.

He laughed once again. You felt your stomach turn at his every chortle.

“I jest. Forgive me.” You took your cup and drank.

“All is forgiven.” He smiled at you and tilted his head to the side as he studied you. “Do you miss him, your father?”

You nodded seriously, sobering. “Very much so.”

“Would you like to visit him tomorrow?”

You bit your lip, considering his words. It would be quite an excursion. You lived far from the palace, nearer to the borders of the next kingdom. The journey would take quite a while just to get there.

“As much as I would like to, it would take up most of the day just to go to and from there. I would not be allowed to spend that much time outside of the palace walls. The King had been angry at me for being alone in the square.” You gave a small smile, shrugging your shoulders.

“You will be with me.” He told you. “We shall make a day of it. There is nothing for me to do tomorrow and I am sure you are free as well.”

“Kit…” It was on the tip of your tongue to refuse. You knew it was the proper thing to do, to keep away from him. You had been too comfortable in his presence. If you allowed yourself to fall any deeper, you knew it would be impossible for you to leave.

Kit sighed. It hurt you to see him so despondent. Just one day. Let him be yours for a day, you tried to convince yourself. Just one day for a lifetime of memories.

“All right.” You agreed with a smile. “ Tomorrow it is. I am sure my Father would be happy to see me after being away from him for a while.”

You spent the rest of the night talking with each other, conversation flowing easily between you. Although there was no mention of that night in the garden, it still hung above your heads. Neither of you acknowledged it. You were fine with talking of other matters, mainly of the welfare of the kingdom since you saw how it plagued him.

When the tea and biscuits—it was Kit who loved the chocolate biscuit since he had eaten mostly those and rarely of the cream ones—were finished, Kit offered to escort you back to your room. He held on to your writing implements as you held on to his arm. The air around the both you was charged with emotion, maybe because you were somehow back with him again as he held your arm, but neither of you moved to make space between yourselves. Instead, you even pressed closer to his side, feeling the heat off of his body as you walked up the palace stairs. The silence was companionable and even as it stretched on, none of you found the need to fill it with unnecessary conversation.

You opened the door to your chambers, hesitating to enter lest the intensity of the moment between you and Kit would dissipate if you did. He returned your writing materials to you, gently caressing your hand when you took it from him. He got a hold of your free hand and laid a soft kiss on your knuckles, lingering, breathing on them as he took his time.

You shivered as you watched. Here was Kit, your husband, refusing to leave because you both knew that these small moments held far more importance than how it truly looked to the spectators.

“Good night, Y/N,” Kit whispered against your knuckles. He rose and watched you with his beautiful cerulean eyes, just looking at you as though you hung the moon that night.

Without another thought, your hand cupped his face and your thumb grazed his cheekbone. You felt him lean to your touch, sighing ever so slightly as you held his face. You went up to your toes and with the gentlest of all actions, you kissed his cheek.

“Good night, Kit.” You breathed against his skin.

You said no more words after that, only pulling away to enter your room. You peeked at him through your closing door, smiling softly and lovingly as you closed it shut.

To say that Kit was excited was an understatement. He was eager to spend the day with you after longing for you for quite some time. He had slept soundly last night, much better than hew had in all the last few months, and when he awoke, he was sure the sun shone just for you and him.

Kit waited by the stables, having had breakfast earlier than the usual and changed into his riding attire. The carriage was ready, as well as the guards Captain Thibault had assigned, and the only person missing was you.

“You seem to be in jollier spirits today, Your Royal Highness,” Captain Thibault commented as he stood beside the prince.

The prince could not stop the smile that was on his face. “Captain, of course I had been this jolly. You are perhaps too occupied with your Abigail to see it.”

Thibault chuckled heartily. “Of course, Your Royal Highness, must be Abigail’s fault,” he relented wryly.

Just then, you emerged from the palace. You seemed refreshed and excited, as eager as he was feeling to get on with the day. When your eyes held his, he saw the brightest smile come to your lips. His hearted gave a start as he remembered the feel of them on his cheek the night before.

“Good morning, Captain Thibault,” you told the man beside him, smiling and giving the man a small smile.

“Good morning, Your Royal Highness,” Thibault greeted as he bowed.

Kit saw you stop at your title. He quickly remedied the situation lest you start panicking. “Good morning, Y/N.”

You turned to him, a relieved smile appearing on your lips. “Good morning, Kit. I hope you had a good sleep?”

“I had,” he nodded. All of my dreams were of you, he wanted to say. You, waving to the citizens of the kingdom as he declared you his queen. You, ruling beside him in the kingdom. You, just being what you were. His wife. His love.

He watched as the sun’s rays kissed your skin, illuminating your lively face and highlighting the apples of your cheeks. Every time, every single time, your beauty took his breath away.

He had not realized he had been looking at you for quite some time until the Captain cleared his throat. “Your Royal Highnesses, let us get going.”

Once boarded, Kit insisted that you sit beside him again in case that you were thrown from your seat like you had been before. You did not seem to mind sitting beside him and he tamped down the little happy jig his heart danced in his chest. You brought along Abigail, which was of no issue to him but he had hoped to spend the time going to your father’s alone with you in conversation. Instead, you kept silent on the way but gave him sideways glances every now and then. He smiled at you every time his eyes caught yours.

“What is your father like?” Kit asked when Abigail had begun to doze off.

You turned to him, lips puckered when you hummed in query. Kit could have sworn he would have kissed you if not for the unwanted company present in the carriage.

“I’m sorry. I did not hear your question.” You said.

“I asked how your father is like. You only spoke of his work as a diplomat. You did not mention much of him outside his work.”

You smiled softly and there was a loving look in your eyes. “My father is the best of all fathers. I am, of course, speaking in bias because he is my family but I also speak in truth. It did not matter to him that he did not have a son. He loves me just as I am.”

“And of your mother?” he inquired. “I don’t remember you mentioning her at all.”

Your voice turned solemn and sad. “My mother died when I was young. I had not much memory of her, but every little thing I remembered of her, it was that she was the kindest, bravest, most beautiful person I had ever known. It is a pity she did not see me grow.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

You only shrugged. “It’s not your doing. In my father’s stories, she was the best there is. He often told me of the things they had done together before they were married. My father was a scholar before he became a diplomat. It was how he met my mother. She was his mentor’s niece.”

You leaned back on your seat, a happy dreamy smile on your lips. “Whenever he talks of her, it’s like she has never left us. I think, for him, she is still alive and just waiting for us every time we come from our travels. He buys her trinkets from every kingdom and when we return, he puts them in a special place in our library.”

Kit saw the change in your emotions, at the way your eyes watered and your lips into a moue of regret. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

You wiped at the tears on your cheeks. You heaved a deep breath, shaking your head as you do so. “I know my father misses my mother very much even though he does not show me. I want him to be happy, to remarry, but he told me he had no need to. That he had had the best love had to offer. Why would he try once more if it wouldn’t be with the same great love as before?”

He watched you intently. He understood what your father meant, knowing that there would never be another kind of love as the one he felt around and with you. He knew that you were the only one made for him. He had fought for you and even if it had been a sort of a losing battle, he knew he had to keep on fighting. You were perfectly made for him as he was for you. It was frustrating that the world did not see it that way.

The carriage rolled to a stop before a beautiful country home. Full trees dotted the sides of the tiny estate. A modest but full garden and a fountain adorned the space between the gates and the main house. Your home was charming; it was not grandiose like Granville or the palace but it had its own character. If anything, it looked very homey and it reminded Kit of you.

Kit descended the carriage first and held out his hand to receive you. There was a giddy look on your face when you stepped out of the coach. He watched you go ahead of your small party and to the door, pulling at the rope excitedly. Kit heard the bell ring somewhere inside the house.

The door opened seconds later, revealing a man advanced in age. Kit saw semblances of you in the man and figured he must be your father.

“Father!” You exclaimed and flung yourself at the man.

The man readily wrapped his arms around you and spun you around, laughing along. Kit felt himself smile at the affectionate display.

“Oh, my little one! I’ve missed you! You did not send word, mon petit! I would have readied the house for your arrival!” The man had put you down and smiled at you.

“I am only here to visit, Father.” You turned to Kit and still smiling, beckoned him closer. “Kit—The prince thought of an excursion because I had missed you terribly.”

Your father had pulled away from you and bowed at your husband. “Your Royal Highness,” he said.

Kit smiled and bowed at your father in respect. “Sir. Thank you for receiving us on short notice. I would have sent word of our arrival but that would defeat the purpose of a surprise.”

“And a surprise indeed,” your father said when Kit stood. “Thank you, Your Royal Highness, for bringing my daughter. Please, come in our humble abode. I shall have the stable hand take care of your horses.”

“I shall ask Cook to prepare our tea and biscuits, Father.” You kissed his cheek and went away, leaving Kit with your father.

“Please, come in, Your Royal Highness.” Your Father stepped aside for the prince to enter.

Kit entered your home and looked around in awe. He did not know what he had expected of your home but one thing he was sure of was that it was not as stuffy or as formal as the palace. You reflected the vivacity and spontaneity of your home.

Your father led him to the sitting room and left the door ajar. Kit saw Thibault stay behind.

“Please, have a seat,” your father said as he moved some items about.

Kit planted himself at the sofa and waited.

“I hope my daughter was no trouble in the palace, Your Royal Highness,” the man said with a jesting smile as he sat on the opposite seat.

Kit smiled. Like you, it was easy to talk to your father. “On the contrary, Sir, it was I who had been causing trouble.”

The man laughed heartily. “Forgive me for speaking freely, but I remembered you running about the palace when you were younger. Quite spirited you were. Now too, I believe.”

“I had since stopped running,” he said with a grin.

The man chuckled. He sobered after a while and regarded Kit with an apologetic look. “Let me apologize for my daughter’s fault. She has told me of the problem she has caused. I hope you are not angry with her.”

Kit shook his head vehemently. “I would never be angry at her. While our circumstances are… difficult, I find myself completely unable to hate her for what had happened. After all, Sir, I am in love with your daughter.”

The man stopped in surprise, perhaps. It worried Kit when it took him a moment to recover. “Your Royal Highness—”

“Please, Sir, call me Kit. I am, after all, your son by your daughter’s marriage to me.”

“Oh. I had not been asked of that before. But then again, my daughter had never been accidentally married to a prince, other than you. And even so, it is improper that I call you as such because you are still the prince.” He mumbled and cleared his throat. “Perhaps I shall refrain from addressing you so I would not call you by your name.”

The prince smiled, amused. “Now, I understand where Y/N gets her stubbornness from.”

“She took after her mother, not I.” The man was back in his good humor once again. “Please, let me thank you once again for bringing my daughter. I had been worried about her. I know she is safe in the palace but a father cannot help but worry especially when his daughter is away from him.”

He nodded.

“How is your father? I trust the King is in good health?”

“His health has been improving. He had become sickly when my mother had passed but recently, he is returning to his usual self.”

“I am sorry to hear of your mother’s passing.”

Kit gave a sad smile, nodding at the man. “As am I but it is the way of all flesh.”

He saw movement from the door and turned. He saw you talk to Thibault amiably, handing him a cup of tea and plate of biscuits and ushering him to one side of the sitting room. You helped your maid bring over the tea set to them and once it was all done, you shooed her to sit beside the captain.

“I took the liberty of having Cook feed the guards, the coachmen, and the footmen.” You announced as you poured the tea. “Father, I hope you behaved yourself while I was away.”

“I am always behaved, mon petit. When had I not been?” The man asked, faking affront.

You tutted, passing him a cup. “I shall not answer that because we will have a long discussion of it and the day would be too short before we reach a conclusion.” You poured another cup and passed it on to Kit.

Kit took it gladly and sipped.

“Tell me of what you had been doing in the palace, mon petit,” your father urged with a soft smile.

Taking your seat beside your husband, you went on to tell your father of your days spent in the palace. Kit listened at your animated retelling, smiling and laughing at some of your anecdotes. He watched as you came to life in your home. While you were lively in the palace—he often regarded you as his personal sunshine—you were extra joyful in the comforts of your home. You were uninhibited in the way you moved about the place.

When you had taken him to meet the staff who had cared for you when you were growing up, he found them looking at you with love and familiarity and not that of fear and politeness. They all had good words and stories about you. It was evident you saw them as family and not hired help.

You then went to the library and showed him of the novelties you had brought home from your travels. There were memories attached to each one of them and he learned of it as he walked around your favorite place in your home.

“And this,” you said as you stood before a portrait of a woman. “This is the little shrine my father made in my mother’s memory.”

He saw the little trinkets that were placed below the portrait. “I take it you talk to her whenever you’re here?”

You nodded. “Not just here. Even at the palace, I talk with her every night. She knows of you and of us. I tell her everything.”

He turned to the painting, seeing how there were resemblances between you and your mother, and bowed. “Madam. Good day.”

“What are you doing?” you asked beside him.

He smiled at you. “I’m talking to your mother.”

“Kit—”

“You talked to mine. I think it fair that I talk with yours.” He took your hand and squeezed it. He began again when he returned to the painting. “Your daughter might have incessantly talked about me with you, madam—”

You chuckled lightly at his statement but did not deny it. He grinned wider as he went on.

“—but allow me to introduce myself to you. My name is Kit. I am your daughter’s husband, as perhaps, you may have already known. I hope you are doing well, wherever you are now.

“Y/N is wonderful, madam. She is good and courageous and kind. If we had not been married, I believe I would still seek her because I know she is my perfect half. There is no one else for me than her. I shall take good care of her, madam. There is no need for you to worry about her.

“Have I mentioned how brilliant she is? She cares for the people. While she is a princess, she does not think herself one and she treats everyone with fairness and respect. I confess I had never seen someone be like her. She is special and I am lucky to have been the one she was accidentally married to. Quite coincidentally, I am in deeply in love with her as well.”

He heard a small gasp come out of you. He smiled and squeezed your hand.

“Oh, Kit,” you whispered his name but it was loud for him to hear clearly. “I am deeply in love with you too.”

He did not know how long he stood there, just staring at your mother’s portrait. He heard the words, dreamt about them countless of times, and now, now that you had said them out loud, he was surprised. Stunned into silence. He could not move his body. He couldn’t even form thoughts in his head. He just stood there stupidly, completely amazed to finally hear those words he so longed to hear.

Then he felt the violent beating of his heart. Heard it thundering in his ears. His body suddenly felt warm, his hand more so and it was only then when he registered what had happened, and that he was still holding your hand firmly in his.

You were deeply in love with him.

As deep as he was with you.

You loved him.

You loved him!

He turned to you, to your love-struck face, and brought your hand to his mouth. Eyes still on you, he turned it over and placed a reverent, adoring kiss on your palm.

“My heart is in your hands, Y/N. Do with it what you will,” he whispered achingly.

Your gaze softened as he put your hand against his cheek and kept it there. You gave him a loving smile as your eyes shone with unshed tears. He felt the pad of your thumb across his cheek.

“I want your heart,” you told him. “I want you.”

He groaned at your admission. He pulled you closer and placed his forehead against yours. “You must know, my princess, that I fought you. I fought for us.”

“Oh, Kit…”

“I did it because I love you.” he said. He pulled away ever so slightly and tipped your chin up to look into your eyes. “I love you, Y/N.”

He caught the tear that ran down your cheek. You gave him a teary smile.

“I love you, Kit. I truly do.” you whispered softly to him.

“I’ll talk to Father when we return to the palace,” he told you, his voice steely with renewed determination. “I will tell him I will have no one else but you. It is only you I want.”

“But—”

“And if he disagrees, then I am left with no choice. We will run away together.”

You caressed his cheek once more, shaking your head slightly. “Oh, Kit. You mustn’t do that to your father. I’m only me.”

“You are the other half of my soul, Y/N. Without you, I am incomplete. I cannot be without you.”

“Kit…”

“If I have to give up the throne, I will.”

“You mustn’t.”

“I will.”

You shook your head. “I cannot ask you to do that because of me. You will always have me, my prince. Come what may,” you vowed.

Your lips were warm and soft against his when he bent down to kiss you. You tasted of honey and lemon, of love and longing. He groaned when you pressed closer to him, closing any distance there was between the two of you. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist to draw you flat against him. His tongue darted to meet yours when you opened your silken lips and you mewled at the contact. The sound sent a different buzz of excitement down his body.

He kissed you feverishly, ardently, with a fervor he did not know he possessed. Your hand came up his hair and ran it through, mussing it. His hand went up to your braid and pulled at it, giving him access to kiss you more. A deep sound emitted from him throat when you whimpered. You brought out everything in him that he was unaware he had. You were magical and perfect and wonderful. You were his.

He was yours.

He was yours to undo.

Someone cleared their throat.

You broke contact first, pulling away and turning from the sound. Kit cleared his own throat and ran a hand down his hair, taming it. He looked at who had intruded on your heated moment and found Thibault standing by the door.

“Yes, Captain?” Kit called and cleared his throat again. “Is there something you need?”

There was a subtle smile on the Captain’s face. Kit felt himself returning it.

“Your Royal Highnesses, we must leave if we wish to arrive by dinner.” he said.

“Yes,” you said beside him. “Of course.”

“Shall we go say goodbye to your father?” Kit asked.

He saw you compose yourself before heading out of the library. He followed closely behind you, giving Thibault a discreet smile of success when he passed by the man, and went on to say his farewells to your father.

“Father, we must return to the palace,” Kit heard you announce when you entered the sitting room.

Your father stood from his seat and walked over to you, enveloping you in another embrace. “I shall miss you, mon petit. Take good care of yourself.”

“You too, Father. I shall miss you. Do not misbehave or I will ask the housekeeper to write to me whenever you do.” You kissed his cheek and broke away from him, returning to Kit’s side.

Your father chuckled. “I am always behaved, Y/N.”

Kit bowed at the man. “It was an honor to meet you, Sir.”

The prince felt himself being helped up and into a hug. He was surprised by it but he let himself be embraced by the old man, even returning the action.

“Take care of my daughter,” he whispered in the young man’s ear.

“I will,” Kit promised and stepped away.

The return trip was spent in silence again but this time, the air was charged with a different emotion. With Abigail present, he could only do so much. So he took your hand in his and kept them both out of your maid’s eyes and under the folds of your skirt. You looked at him when he did and smiled that beautiful, loving smile. Every so often, he would caress his thumb against your skin and he would feel you do the same.

“Let us go to Father’s,” Kit said as he helped you down the carriage once you arrived. “We must tell him.”

“Now?” you asked. You were yet to retrieve your hand from his.

“I don’t see why not,” he grinned.

He led you to the Great Study, steps hurried as he could not wait any longer to make his plea known. His father may be stubborn but once he saw how madly in love he was with you as you were with him, he knew he wouldn’t deny him anymore of his happiness. His parents were happy. It would be unfair of his father to not wish for the same for him.

The doors to the Great Study flung open at his command and he strode towards his father at the other end of it. The king and the Grand Duke looked up from their parchment in surprise.

“Kit! We have received word.” The king said, rising from his seat.

Kit was single-minded in what he wanted and wasted no time in making it known to them. “Father, there is something I must tell you—"

“The Magistrate has granted your divorce.”

TAP Taglist

@srhxpci @lov3vivian @hotleaf-juice @the-blueatlas @tomhollandisabae @a-girl-who-loves-disney @ezgirl1108 @mentallyscreamingsincebirth @snow30285 @secretsthathauntus @rhymingtree @xxlunoverxx @ratcatcher2world @thekittydoctor @lover-of-helios @neenieweenie @moonlarking @beasterlovebeckyg @i-tried21 @anahisalome @redsmemories @beaminglife @quietwitchsworld @ashevans31 @bizarrebarnes @navs-bhat @imjustemu @vikingqueen28 @whatkindofnameshould @monster-alien-chode @drphilssoulmate @impactshawol @imma-too-many-fandoms @noirrose21-blog @iramagnus @continuously-reading @janesofia7 @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose @chileansoul-englishheart @brightjimini @queenl04 @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @bellarkeselection @ietss @sapnapsbandana @alexastacio @abbygraceasd @mrosales16 @saltedcoffeescotch @sarcasm-n-insomnia

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

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.

The Accidental Princess (Part 11)

Prince Kit x Reader

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

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

Word Count: 13.3k words

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

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

Main Masterlist

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

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

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

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

The nobleman was the devil incarnate.

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

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

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

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

“And I would remain as clueless as I am now as to where Y/N is.” Kit took his eyes off the fire and looked at his cousin. “Thank you for stopping me, Louis.”

“Sometimes I think I was born to keep your head level, cousin,” he said jollily as he sat back on his seat.

Kit felt himself smile weakly at his cousin’s jape.

“You must rest,” Louis insisted after a while of silence. “Chelina would not hear of me going out to investigate without proper sleep. I feel she would want you to do the same thing.”

He shook his head. “I cannot sit by while she is out there in the storm. I need to find her.”

“Kit, it is nearly midnight. I do not think you would be able to see anything with the darkness and the storm.” Louis told him, turning towards the window and his cousin followed his action. The trees swayed violently, fat raindrops battered against the window. The storm rattled the glass as it grew in intensity by the minute. The whole room shook when new thunder roared after a crack of lightning lit the gloomy sky.

Kit had never feared the storm more than he had at that moment.

“So would she.” Kit insisted.

“My men and yours are already looking for her.”

“It is not enough.”

“I know it isn’t but it is the best we have at the moment.”

“Not if I join them.”

“Kit. Cousin.” Louis sighed. “I myself would have gone out there, even in rougher conditions, to help find her but I do not think I would be of any help while I am tired. I would only slow down the people looking for her.”

He knew his cousin was right. Kit was not fit to search for you, especially now that he felt the start of his hunger and fatigue. While he did not want you to wait, he needed to rest his body so he may be better prepared to join the party in search for you.

“Get out of your wet clothes, cousin. A warm bath will do you good.”

Kit heeded his cousin’s advice without any further arguments and took a bath in his chambers. The warm water cooled his chilled bones but it did not assuage the coldness he felt with you being gone still. He longed to have you in his arms, enveloped in his embrace as he promised to never let harm come your way. He wanted to spare you from all the evils in the world. He would keep you with him so he may defend you from anything that would hurt you.

If only he found you.

Kit rested his head against the edge of the tub, looking at the ceiling as he thought of the last time you had been with him. He should have prolonged the kiss, should not have minded Abigail’s presence and continued his sweet ministrations to your lips—and more, if you had been as enthused with the idea of it as he was—in the carriage as you were heading home. If he hadn’t brought you to the Great Study, he would not have seen the heartbreak in your eyes at his father’s news of the nullification of your marriage. It was the last thing he had seen before you left him to go to the Grand Duke. He would not want that to be his final memory of you.

He stayed in his bath for as long as he could, until the water had gone equally cold as his room. He could not move, would not move because if he had, he would have scoured the whole kingdom for you. To search for you was the only thing he was to do; the Grand Duke was in custody and would not cause any further harm, his father was recuperating well, and all pieces of evidence were with Thibault, where he would arrange them to make the case against the nobleman more compelling.

When he returned to his father’s chambers, he found his cousin poring over paperwork at the long table. Princess Chelina sat next to him, equally busy with writing her own missive.

“I will be in the study, cousin,” Kit told Louis, who had looked up. “There are some businesses I must be getting back to.”

“Of course. We will keep watch of my uncle.” Louis nodded.

“Do not forget to rest, Kit. You must keep your health if you wish join the search for your wife.” Chelina told him.

Kit thanked them both. He ordered the footmen standing guard outside his father’s room to call for him should any need arise. He also ordered a maid to bring more refreshment and snacks for his cousin, the princess, and the physician.

Kit walked to the study with slow steps, mind occupied with thoughts of how to torture your whereabouts from the nobleman. As much as it would ease the torture, he thought against using cruel devices, knowing his cousin would disapprove of that. And the Grand Duke would have welcomed the pain, seeing as he was not afraid of the sword against his neck when Kit had confronted him earlier that night. The man was demented.

He entered the library first, with the intention of searching for the book you had written in the letter. He trusted his cousin’s report of not having seen it but he knew in him that he must look for it himself, just to confirm that it was indeed missing. He remembered the shelf where you had returned it but, true enough, the space was devoid of the book. The dark, empty gap stood stark against the colorful spines of the other books. He searched through each of the books, hoping it had been kept in another place but he could not find it. He was disappointed by the lack of it but he was hopeful for the other evidence they have gathered.

He went on ahead to the Great Study, to the table he claimed for his own use and found the paperwork the nobleman had left for him to peruse. They were for the transfer of the ownership of the ridges and islands from his father’s name to the Princess Chelina’s. Beneath that mountain of paper sat another marriage contract, this time bare of the names of the parties to be married. Kit knew it was for him and the princess. The Grand Duke wasted no time in seating and establishing his niece to be the new queen of the kingdom. Ambitious man, Kit thought bitterly.

Kit disregarded those papers and resumed on different matters. For the rest of the evening, he pored over businesses of the kingdom, signing treaties, and implementing laws that he knew would better the land. He also worked on his mother’s proposal, now without the constraint of the Grand Duke’s objection. He continued on until the room had grown considerably cold and dark.

He went to the fireplace with intentions of adding more logs to the dying embers when he saw a slip of blue in all the ash and soot. Taking a fire iron, he pulled out the blue piece. What came with it were pages of texts and botanical illustrations. He turned the burned book over and read its title, only to stop when he realized what it was.

His mother’s German herbology book. The very one he had been looking for.

The Grand Duke had burnt a piece of evidence against him.

Bringing the remnants of the herbology book with him, Kit headed for Captain Thibault’s offices. The Captain looked up in surprise at the prince’s sudden appearance.

“Your Royal Highness.” Thibault said as he rose from his seat to bow at his friend.

“I found it.” Kit dropped the book on the table.

“Is this the—”

“Herbology book, yes.” He turned it over and showed the Captain the creased spine, luckily unburnt given the state of the rest of the book. “The reason why my cousin could not find it was because it had been burned in the Great Study’s fireplace.”

The Captain inspected the book, flipping the pages to see what had remained. “The crease does indeed open immediately to Digitalis purpurea but half of the page, and most of the book, is burnt.”

He pointed at the title of the illustration, at the words Digitalis purp-- and looked at the prince.

“But isn’t what matters is I had found it burnt? It is the Grand Duke trying to burn any evidence against him. How he knew of the book, I could not care less but now that we have it, wouldn’t it make for compelling evidence against him?”

“That is not for me to say, Kit, but I will present this to the magistrate, along with the others that you have gathered.” Thibault said.

That satisfied the prince. He sat heavily on one of the seats, mind exhausted. He refused to return to the stuffy, cold Great Study and so he stayed in his friend’s office as he rested his mind.

“The Grand Duke hasn’t confessed to anything more,” Thibault told him.

“Where is he kept?”

“In the first cell of the east dungeons.”

Kit nodded. “Have you searched him for any personal effects that he might use on you or the guards?”

“We did not find anything but we gave him a change of clothes so that we may inspect his garments further. He had no complaints.”

“Keep any sword or dagger away from his cell.” Kit commanded. “And starve him. Do not give him any food or water, not until he confesses to whatever else he has done.”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness.” Thibault closed the burnt tome and added it to his pile of evidence. “The apothecary has agreed to testify against the Grand Duke. Once I send all the evidence to the Magistrate, they will schedule a trial.”

“Good.”

And it was, Kit thought as he started to pace the length of the Captain’s office. He had found all of the proof against the man, the apothecary was willing to testify, and with enough persuasion, so would the former royal physician. He had everything to indict the man and make him pay for his transgressions.

It was nearly done.

All that was left was for you to be found.

“There is still no news of her,” Thibault told him, as though he could read the direction of the prince’s thoughts. “But do not lose heart, Kit—”

That stopped the prince’s pacing. He speared the Captain with a look, not of anger but of desperation.

“She has not been found, Thibault! What if we are too late! What if all they can find of her is her corpse?” he cried passionately. “I cannot bear to be without her. I do not think I can live without her. She is my wife even when that damned paper says otherwise!”

He sat heavily on the seat and cradled his head in his palms, the exhaustion of the day finally dawning on him. He had finished his tasks and he should have been happy with the result but the one task that mattered the most to him was yet to be resolved. He could not function without you; he knew that much to be true. He had to find you, for your sake and his.

“I have failed her. I promised her father I would take care of her and I did not—have not.”

“We have our best men out to look for her. She will be found. I promise you that.”

He felt a fat tear roll down his cheek and he wiped at it, shaking his head desolately. He was a failure as a husband to you.

“My mother… I was not able to save my mother from the Grand Duke. And now my wife…”

Kit swallowed thickly. He did not like the picture his mind had conjured.

“I would not forgive myself if we are too late.”

Thibault did not speak. Kit was silent for the remainder of the hour, only sat there as his friend finished his business. He was not disturbed in his musings—for that, Kit was thankful of his friend—and when it was time for him to leave, the Captain only bid him a good night.

The storm had lessened significantly as the night progressed. Kit hoped you had found shelter and that you were safe, even if the conditions were not favorable. He wished someone had found you and had offered to house you until the storm had passed. He hoped and wished and pled. It was all he could do for the time being. But the moment the Grand Duke would reveal where you were, he would come for you himself.

He entered his father’s room and was surprised to see his cousin and the princess still keeping watch of the king. They had a game of cards between them, perhaps in a way to keep awake until he returned.

“I will look after my father now,” Kit announced to them. “It will be safe to return to your chambers. The Grand Duke will not be a threat to us. Thibault has him kept in the dungeons.”

“I can stay, cousin—” Louis said as he put down his cards.

Kit shook his head. “You have done enough, Louis. Please, rest. I shall see you again in the morning.”

Louis sighed but he relented. He helped the princess to her feet.

“You must rest as well, Kit.” Chelina told him as she placed her hand on the crook of Louis’s elbow. “Call on me to look after the king when you shall be taking your rest.”

“Thank you,” he told her, having no intention to disturb the princess’s slumber, and bid them a good night.

He watched them leave together. He then walked to his father’s bed and kept vigil by his side. He did not know of what to speak with his father. Whilst they were candid with one another, with the king’s current state, Kit did not know if telling him the truth of his mother’s death was ideal.

“Father.” Kit sighed as he held the king’s hand. He had kept watch of his father for an hour, no words spoken until the weight of his burden became unbearable.

“Father, I… I do not know what to do.” He watched the gentle rise and fall of his father’s chest, listened to his rhythmic breathing, and timed it with his own.

“I am unprepared. I am at a loss of what else should be done. I know that you have prepared me for when this time will arrive but I am humble enough to admit that I cannot take this on without your help. So, please. I beg of you, wake up. I need all the help you can offer.”

The king did not respond. The prince did not expect him to.

“You cannot give me your adviser. He has done a great sin to the kingdom but most especially to us. I cannot tell you while you are asleep but even when you are awake, as imperative it is for you to know, I would not want you to relive the hurt you felt upon mother’s death.”

His father remained unmoving on his bed.

Kit sighed deeply.

“He has stolen Y/N away from me. It had been a day and I fear that she is somewhere unsafe. The storm aggravates my thoughts but even if it were not raining, I would still worry for her welfare. Unless she is beside me, then I will continue to worry.

“I love her, Father. More than my life. More than the crown I will be wearing if you decide not to awake. If you will shun me, then I have no choice but to accept it. She has become my life in the short time I have gotten to know her. I cannot be without her.

“You must forgive me if my wishes do not align with yours. My only sin was to love someone I should not. She is faultless. Do not blame her for the love I have for her.”

He squeezed his father’s hand. The king did not return the gesture.

“Have I told you how wonderful she is? She treats everyone with kindness and fairness. She does not judge. She thinks of everyone else’s welfare before her own.” He gave a soft, sad chuckle at the memory of your first time in the square with him. “I believe I have not told you of the time she refused a free apple because she did not want the man to lose money for not selling it. It might seem insignificant to you but to me, I saw the goodness in her heart. She did have told me she wanted the whole of the kingdom to succeed, even the smallest of us.”

Kit squeezed his father’s hand once more. Every memory of you ached in his chest.

“It was her who discovered the truth of mother’s death.” The prince said in a whisper. His throat worked. “She had offered to help the kitchen staff label the tea leaves and it was how she found the poison that killed mother.

“She discovered it all on her own, Father. Just from the tea leaves, she deduced mother was murdered and she launched an investigation. I have it all in her writing. She gave a detailed account of her findings in the letter she was smart enough to leave with Louis before the Grand Duke had discovered what she knew of his sins.

“She is the reason you survived. When she plunged her hand in your throat, it was because she knew you were poisoned by hemlock. The emetic she was to use for herself, she used on you so you may live. She has done many things for us that we do not know.”

Kit yawned and felt the heaviness come down his eyelids.

“Y/N may not be born a royal, Father, but she is my princess. I will not marry anyone else but her.”

He folded his arm atop his father’s bed and rested his head on it. He looked at his father’s sleeping form once more, praying, hoping that he would soon wake.

“I love her, Father. I will marry her again, with or without your blessing.”

He closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him.

Kit felt a gentle brush against his forehead, stirring him from his slumber. He peered from his position, turning to the finger that had parted the hair that hung on his forehead, and saw his father watching him. He sat up immediately, not minding that his back had been sore at the improper position he had slept in. He could not care less for himself, especially now that his father was awake.

“Doctor!” he called.

He grasped his father’s hand in his again, smiling in relief at the sight of him with his eyes opened.

“Kit. Why are you asleep here, my boy?” the king rasped. “Why are you not in your room?”

The prince could only chuckle and squeezed his father’s hand tightly. “We were worried for you, father. You had been asleep for more than a day.”

The physician came over and began his medical ministrations about the king, checking his overall health. Kit ordered a footman to announce to his cousin and the princess that the king was awake.

“What has happened while I was asleep?” the king asked.

Kit hesitated to tell him, not wanting to send his father into another fit at the revelations of the days past. But he knew that prolonging the inevitable would only hurt his father more. And the king was bound to know the truth.

“You have been poisoned, Father.” he said.

“Poisoned?” the king echoed confusedly.

Kit nodded, grim as he told his father all that had happened that night. He spared no information and did not mince words as he told him of the treachery the Grand Duke had done. He watched the emotions that came upon the king’s face. There was betrayal and anger but it was mostly despondence and despair upon the truth of his wife’s death. The king was silent when he listened to his son but there was the unmistakeable anger in him that even the prince was afraid of.

“Where is the Grand Duke?” the king asked as he moved to stand from his bed.

The physician denied his efforts and gently pushed him down the bed, telling him that he would need to keep his health up before he could resume his business.

“We have him in our custody in the dungeons. I would be speaking with him later to know where he had kept Y/N.” Kit said. “We are yet to find her. Louis has sent his men, so had Captain Thibault but there is still no news of her.”

“Kit—”

He held up a hand to stop the king from speaking any further. He would not want to hear his father dissuade him from finding you.

“No, father. You cannot sway me.” Kit told him. “I want her found. I will join the search party if I have to. I have done everything you had asked of me before but if you now tell me to sit by and call off the search, then you must forgive me when I disobey you. This is my wife we are speaking about. She has saved you. She has discovered the reason of mother’s death. She has risked her life to deliver proof to us. If you do not think her worthy of me, then I am inclined to think that you are not worthy of her. She is twice more than I will ever be because she is kind and courageous.”

The king watched his son’s impassioned speech and he was reminded of his own youth, when he had told his father of his love for an unknown princess. He and his son were so similar yet so different with one another. His own father had denied him his freedom to choose a bride and he was forced to marry Princess Amalie, who he had the good fortune of falling in love with. But to see his son Kit so passionate of you, the king knew he could not be like his father, would not force his son to face the same ordeal as he had. While the Princess Chelina was the obvious choice as queen of the kingdom, he would not want his son to be unhappy in his marriage.

The king held his son’s hand and squeezed it. “Find her.”

“Father?” Kit asked, confused. He had not anticipated his father to be convinced so easily, especially when he had been adamant of his betrothal to Chelina.

“Find her, Kit, and bring her back.”

Kit entered the Grand Duke’s cell and stood opposite of the man who was shackled against the wall. The Grand Duke watched him with unimpressed eyes and did not move to bow when he had been addressed. He gave no greeting but taunted him instead.

“So, you have me shackled because you are afraid of me,” the nobleman said as he shook his wrist. The chains clanged loudly against each link, echoing in the damp, dark dungeon.

“I am not afraid of you,” Kit replied. “But you should be afraid of the things I will do to you until you tell me my wife’s whereabouts.”

The man’s laugh was short and sarcastic.

“So you resort to violence when you do not have your way? You and I are not so different after all, Your Royal Highness.” The mad man made a grand gesture of bowing at the prince.

“We are different.” The prince ground out. “I am nothing like you, hurting innocents for your own personal gain.”

He snorted when he regained his position. “‘Innocent,’” he said disdainfully. “Your mother was hardly innocent. Did you know how many people she had crossed when she did not want to sell the mines? Or that insolent girl, Y/N? You think her innocent after she has trapped you into a marriage you do not want? They are not so faultless as you let yourself believe.”

“The mines are not any concern of yours. It was the queen’s prerogative to do as she pleased with her property.” Kit advanced to the man and stood just an arm’s reach away from him. “And do not insult my wife. She has discovered what you have done. She was only an innocent investigator and you stole her away from me.”

“That chit has disrespected me—”

“And you surely have disrespected her long before she stood up for herself. Before the divorce, she was a princess and I had never seen you treat her as such. For a nobleman such as yourself, that would be remiss. For the devil that you are, however, I think it in character of you to do so.”

The Grand Duke only glared at the prince. Guards arrived at the confining cell and flanked the man.

“Bring him to the Chapel,” Kit ordered as he watched the Grand Duke be taken out of his shackles.

“Am I to repent for my sins?” the man asked sarcastically as two guards pulled him away. “And I thought you called me the devil.”

Kit ignored him and followed as they went further down the dungeons.

The Chapel was no house of God. It was, ironically, a torture chamber. Built by his predecessors, the torture room was one part of the palace that had remained unchanged in centuries. It boasted of vaulted ceilings reminiscent of those in churches, with trusses from which more shackles swung from where they were hung. It had no windows for light and air to pass through. However, it had a vast array of torture devices covering the walls for any of the Royal Guards to use on criminals.

“Kit, there is still time for you to back—” Thibault said as soon as Kit arrived in the Chapel. The Captain had seen the prince in the battlefield and knew him to be ruthless as a warrior and as a tactician. He knew Kit would not soften every blow he was to deliver just because he had been the king’s adviser.

“I will not back down,” he told his friend, tone unyielding. “I will not lose my soul upon the torture of a clearly deranged and guilty man.”

Thibault only nodded, knowing he could not sway his friend, and stepped aside.

The guards had bound the Grand Duke’s wrists and ankles to the chair in the middle of the Chapel. Kit had taken off his coat and neared him, bringing with him a bucket of water.

“You mean to drown me with a bucket full of water?” The Grand Duke taunted with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “My, my. What an ineffective means of torture.”

“Where is she?” Kit demanded.

The nobleman only looked at the prince before he shrugged his shoulders impassively.

Kit splashed the icy water on him forcefully, causing the man to gasp and sputter in surprise. When the water had drained away, he only looked up at Kit with an unconcerned air.

“You stole her from me! Where is she!” Kit yelled.

He dropped the bucket he held and leaned in closer to the malicious man, spearing him with a hateful glare. The nobleman challenged his stare and said nothing. It only irritated the prince further.

“I will not be kind the next time I ask, Grand Duke. Tell me now—”

“Or what? You will untie me? You will set me free?” His laughter erupted from him and the sarcastic sound grated against Kit’s skin. “What will I get out of my telling you where I had left her?”

“Nothing—”

“Then I say nothing.”

Kit fought against his need to resort to violence and his fist made contact with the nobleman’s gut. The Grand Duke sputtered and coughed yet again but did not reply.

“I did say I will not be kind.” Kit drew back his fist for another pounce.

The Grand Duke eyed him disdainfully.

“Now, I ask again. Where did you take my wife?”

“Aren’t you delusional, boy? Did you not hear what your father told you? You are not married anymore. That girl is not your wife.”

Kit socked him hard in the ear. The force sent the nobleman tumbling, falling heavily on his side, still in his seat. The prince crouched down to the man, seething with anger. There was a small trail of blood that trickled from the man’s ear. Kit did not feel an ounce of remorse at his actions.

“I am not in a gaming mood!” Kit yelled. “Tell me where she is!”

The Grand Duke did not crane his neck to address the prince. His eyes only turned to him and he looked far more sinister in this position than when he had been upright.

“You have the Princess Chelina to marry. Are you willing to defy your father’s wishes, all for your misguided notion that she is in love with you?” He chuckled darkly. “You are foolish, Kit. Of course, any young woman will fall for you. You’re the prince. It is your title she wants, not you.”

Kit drew back in derision for his words. The Grand Duke only spoke of falsehoods and yet, he spoke with assurance that the prince momentarily believed his lies to be true.

You never cared that you were a princess. You hurt when the news of your divorce broke. You returned his kisses when he kissed you. You understood his aches and pains and your very presence took all of those away because you loved him. You loved him.

The prince stood to his full height, sneering at the man, and nodded at the guards. “Sit him up.”

Once the Grand Duke was upright, Kit turned to the man again. He gave a sarcastic smile of his own, at the nobleman’s words that intended to hurt him but it only made him pity the man.

“Of course. Of course, it must be my title, much like it was yours when you took a maid to be your lover.” Kit said. “It is no question she is merely using you to gain a higher status in the household. She holds no love for you and because of that, she will have no qualms in telling us of all the sins you have committed.”

The Grand Duke’s mouth remained shut. His eyes only grew more and more crazed as the hours went by. Kit inflicted whatever torture he could think of, hoping with each one that it would force a confession from the man. The noble held strong, keeping your location a secret. It went on for a while, with Kit unrelenting in his tortures and the Grand Duke not giving any indication of your whereabouts.

“Do you want to know why I did it?” The Grand Duke asked after hours of water torture and strikes to his person. It did not seem to bother him that his pristine white shirt was now tinged pink with water and his blood.

“Why I killed your mother?” He asked it so casually that it renewed the anger in the prince.

Kit’s body grew colder at the mention of his mother. He did not like it when the subject was broached, most especially by the man responsible for her demise.

“You told me it was for the riches.” Kit spat as he glared at the man.

Despite the swelling that nearly closed the man’s left eye, there was a diabolical gleam in them, one that told Kit he enjoyed the game they were to play. “Most of it was because of that, of course. Am I to just kill her because I liked to? Yes, but I much rather I get something from it.”

The prince fisted his hand, drawing it back to charge and punch him. This time, the nobleman took the hit to the jaw. The man’s face had been battered enough, to the point where Kit’s fist ached for having caused it. He would not show it because he could not afford to show weakness to the man whose answer holds your salvation.

“You see, I do not like it when women have more power compared to me.” The crazed gleam returned in his eye. “They are feeble-minded creatures, so easily swayed with simple gifts and ideas. Whoever thought a kingdom needed a queen was clearly not of sound mind. A king is capable. Man is capable. Women? They are not.”

Kit only watched him. He did not move from where he stood—would not move because if he did, he would easily kill him.

“Your mother was no exception. She was readily persuaded by my gifts. She’s a simpleton, you see. Quite the opposite of what you and the kingdom make her. You think her brilliant but she is not. Simple laws just to please the people. Nothing to advance it to greatness.”

Kit knew the words from the man’s mouth were all lies. He refused to believe to any of them.

“And you have something to offer for the kingdom’s advancement?” he asked instead, humoring the man in hopes of finding his answers.

“I offered my niece.”

“Ah, yes. Another woman for you to control and be rid of as you wish.”

The smile that graced the Grand Duke’s face was patronizing and proud. “Ah! Now you see my point!” he crowed in delight.

Kit glared. “I see your sinister plans. Chelina is not for you to control. So was my mother and as is my wife. They were never yours to do as you like.”

“And yet I still did. Such is the power of men, don’t you think, Your Royal Highness?”

“You forget that the reason you are here is because of Y/N. She pieced together all of what you had done to my mother. It took a woman to defeat you, Grand Duke.”

“And I defeated her. Wherever I had left her, she will not survive. She might even be dead, now as we speak.” He gave Kit a challenging look, smirking as though he enjoyed this game they were playing. “I still win.”

A muscle jumped at Kit’s jaw.

“You will thank me one day, Kit. You do not need that chit whom you fancy yourself in love with.”

The self-satisfied smile remained on the nobleman’s face. Kit wanted nothing more but to wipe it off.

“Were you ever loved, Grand Duke? Is this where the hatred comes from?” The prince asked and watched as the smile fell of his face. “Because, clearly, you have never loved. I do not think your heart has the capacity to hold such emotion.”

“Love,” he spat disdainfully. “Holds us back. It gives us nothing—”

“It gives satisfaction and contentment; two things you will never find if you scorn the very emotion from whence it came.”

“I have no need of it.”

“I am sure you don’t. You’ve displayed contempt for anything akin to that.” He looked directly in the man’s eyes. “Your parents, they favored your sister, did they not? Loved her above all else, above you. This is why you loathe women.”

The Grand Duke’s eyes blazed in anger. Kit picked more at the wound he had just opened.

“So you despise them as a lot because they reminded you of what you did not receive when you were younger—”

“I was the heir but they did not care for me! They wanted my sister for the opportunities she could bring us!” The Grand Duke strained against his bindings. Veins had made themselves apparent on his neck. “From the moment of her birth, she had been coddled and loved! They had given her everything that was supposed to be mine!”

Kit bit back a triumphant smile and regarded the angry man impassively. The noble struggled to break free in his seat, livid at having been caught the cause of his vulnerability. The muscles on the man’s neck jumped as he seethed at the prince.

“Love did not bring them satisfaction and contentment. It made them weak. The moment my sister was of age, they married her off to that pompous Zaragozan prince and used all of my money as her dowry! They left me desolate and poor, all because they loved the weak one.”

“So you chose to not love?”

“I chose to be strong. That blasted emotion will only weigh me down. I had been successful without it because I was not held back by that foolish emotion.”

Kit swore he saw the muscle at the man’s jaw twitch but it did not frighten him. He had the upper hand. The Grand Duke looked at him with all of the disdain and fury in the world.

“I am nothing like you, so desperate to save your loved one from drowning. With the unending storm, you will be too late. You will never save her. Love will not save her. It will only make a fool out of you.”

Kit prepared a rebuttal to his verbal attack but halted when he realized what the man had said. The Grand Duke had not mentioned of you drowning in any of the times Kit had asked for you. He never gave your location nor did he give any clues as to where you were kept. If he said you were to drown… then it could mean you were near bodies of water.

The Grand Duke seemed to have noticed his mistake and kept his mouth shut. He said nothing further, only looked at the prince with as much contempt and anger he could muster.

“Why would she drown?” Kit asked as he neared him once more.

The noble did not speak.

Kit fisted the front of the man’s shirt dress. His anger and desperation provided him with enough strength to hoist the man up, chair and all.

"Tell me where she is!" he demanded. “I had played long enough with you, Grand Duke. You are to answer my questions if you want to survive.”

He only looked at the young royal, unblinking.

“Where did you leave Y/N?”

Silence.

“You will not be given food until you tell me where my wife is!”

“Then I would much rather starve.”

Kit dropped the man unceremoniously and turned to the Captain.

“Return him to his cell. Do not feed him. Do not give him any water. Make him suffer until he confesses where she is.” He commanded. “Get your best men to search at any bodies of water. Tell them not to return to the palace without my wife.”

“What will you do, Your Royal Highness?” Thibault asked after he had commanded his men to do as the prince ordered.

“I will look for her myself.”

The rains were relentless. It had not stopped since and you worried for the rising waters. You had not attempted to climb out of the hole again, what with your broken ankle having swollen twice its size. You could only scream out but your voice had gone raspy at the effort. The hope of being found was slowly waning every passing second.

Your will to survive was strong but your body grew weak. You had developed a fever from being submerged in water and also of the numerous broken bones and bruises you had procured upon the Grand Duke’s attempts of your disposal. A rest would have renewed your strength but in your current situation, the best you could do was recline against the jagged wall. The sharp stones did not faze you anymore. They had become your companion and only source of proof that you were still alive and awaiting rescue… if they ever knew you were gone.

You could not tell if a day or two had passed. There was only constant darkness. Your eyes had grown accustomed to it and you feared you were on your way to permanent blindness after having not seen the sun or light for so long. But despite that, when you close your eyes, vivid color and memories abound.

You saw the palace, the king having tea in the gardens and the prince training with the Captain of the Guards. You saw the jolly Duke of Granville, proclaiming sonnets with his usual flair. The Princess of Zaragoza was in the town square, perusing the gemstones of the kingdom. Your father, sailing the high seas. Your mother, smiling at you through the mirror and singing as she combed your hair…

You were sure the vision of your mother was a hallucination. You had been but a child when she had passed. It was impossible to have a memory of her with this older version of you, smiling encouragingly, lovingly. But you clung to that hallucination, to the song that had brought you comfort when you were young.

The water poured, urging you to rise to your feet. You kept your back to the wall, hands feeling the stones. Your ankle protested at the sudden added weight and you hummed to yourself to distract yourself from the pain. Your eyes burned at the discomfort but you were unsure if tears had fallen because there was only constant rainfall in your small hole.

If the rains did not stop, it would fill the space with enough water to drown you. Your dress weighed you down, your feet were useless with the injury, and even if you could try and swim, it would be futile if the hole was not filled to the brim.

Another thunder cracked the sky. You shut your eyes and started singing weakly with your mother the lullaby you knew that would calm you. You allowed yourself to be enveloped by the hallucination, of your mother’s comforting strokes against your hair as she lulled you to rest.

“Lavender’s blue, dilly, dilly. Lavender’s green. If you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you…”

Kit shared the revelation to his father, to Chelina, and to his cousin. His father had seen what an unstoppable force he had become in his pursuit of you and allowed him to join the search, provided that his cousin come with him. Kit protested, told them that his cousin had helped him with the errand of gathering information the day before but the king would not hear of it. Despite Kit’s many protestations and insistences, Louis became the last member of the small search party he headed.

They journey east, to the largest lake of the kingdom that ran adjacent to his mother’s mountains. The storm remained strong in that part of the kingdom and it already posed a danger to them as they rode towards it. To be in the middle of it, however, was a challenge in and of itself.

Kit ordered the guards to tie themselves to the tree once they start their search in the waters. The currents had become too strong for them to dive deep. The tree would serve as an anchor for them to not be carried away.

“As much as I want to find her,” Louis said as he neared his cousin. “I only wish she is not here. Even the best swimmers could not survive such strong waves and currents.”

Kit could not help but agree with his cousin. He knew how much you had loved travelling by boat but the fickle nature of that lake was nothing compared to the serene waters of the seas. Even if he was desperate to find you, he would not have wanted to be presented your corpse for trying to brave such conditions of the lake.

He watched as Louis tied the rope around his waist and to the tree to join the search underwater. Kit did the same, tying himself to the roots of the tree and swam as far as he could with his length of rope. He fought against the current, diving deep and groping whatever he could that resembled you. Every attempt proved ineffective and Kit rose from the waters, much more frustrated than when he had started.

One by one the guards went up from their search, each looking at the prince apologetically at coming up empty-handed. Kit only thanked them for their efforts and commanded them to search for you in another part of the lake.

He knew his cousin had started to worry when he emerged from searching the last quarter of the lake without you. They had reached its depths, finding unusual creatures and resources but nothing of you. Kit supposed he should have been thankful for not finding you at the bottom of one of the deepest lakes of the kingdom but he also hoped that he would have seen something at all that would tell of your presence in the body of water.

Still, he refused to stop in the search.

But he had not one idea how to continue.

Before them, the mountains loomed. Its peaks were nearly invisible in the clouds of the storm. They were the mountains his mother was gifted upon her marriage, the very ones the Grand Duke coveted and killed for. Whenever he rode past them, he often remembered how proud his mother had been at the discovery of the gemstones and how she longed to use them for the betterment of the kingdom’s economy. Now, they only served as a reminder that she had been stolen from them because of the greed of one foreign adviser.

Come to the mountains, a gentle, female voice called to him. Come and you shall find what you seek.

Kit felt the pull of the mountains. He knew there was nothing there; the miners did not work in such dire conditions. It sat abandoned during the summer months during its intense heat and raging storms. He did not know why it called to him but he knew he had to go there and see for himself why.

He donned his still wet shirt, accepting the coldness that clung on his back like punishment for having not found you yet, and mounted his horse.

“Where are you going?” Louis asked as he watched the set look on his cousin’s face before doing the same thing.

“The mountains. They—they call to me.” Kit said almost absently, intent on riding towards the mines. He kicked his heels against the horse’s flanks, making it gallop towards the mountains.

“Call to you? You have gone mad!” The duke said as he followed along. “How am I going to explain this to your father!”

The prince rode ahead, rushing through trees and land, much speedier than he had at the start of the search. He knew he would find it empty but the pull was too mighty to ignore. Was it his mother telling him something? It was an absurd notion to even think that his mother was there in the mountains—she had been buried in the Royal Cemetery—but to Kit, it made sense. The mountains were her pride and joy, in addition to him. It must mean something, this pull.

“You do understand that in order to drown, there must be water, cousin.” Louis told him when he had caught up beside him. “A mountain is not a body of water. I think you ought to know the difference of that at this age of yours.”

They reached the miners’ camp, a worn little village that had been abandoned for the season. There were no flicker of lights in any of the thatched houses nor movement inside; no sign of activity at all. But there was something there, Kit was sure. There was something that urged him to come and investigate.

Despite not wanting to stop in the search, Kit took the silence of the place as a respite form all the turmoil in and out of him. He may not be alone but, before the mighty mountains of his kingdom, he was at peace.

“We should leave, Kit. Continue on with our search. We are wasting daylight by ambling here,” his cousin said beside him.

He kept ignoring the duke and went his way around the village. Kit stopped behind the village, at the start of the quarry at the base of the mountain. His mother had advocated for the safety of the miners, ensuring that there be a barricade to the entrance of the shaft lest someone accidentally tread and fall through. That entrance had been permanently closed now, having no more stones or precious metals to be mined.

“I am feeling a sense of dread about the place, Kit,” Louis said as he stepped closer to the prince. “When you said it called to you, I was hoping it had been a figurative sense.”

“I heard a voice—”

“A voice? Have you hit your head on the lakebed?”

“It was loud and clear.”

Louis whirled around, at the emptiness of the village, and gestured to it with a flourish of his hands. “Well, it is clearly empty. We won’t find her here. There is no body of water where she can possibly drown in.”

“Just—” Kit sighed in frustration. “It called to me, cousin. It must mean something.”

Whatever—or whoever—it was that called him, it wanted him there for a reason.

He neared the entrance and looked beyond it, to the abandoned carts and tools. His cousin as right, there was nothing there of importance, but to see the mines strengthened his resolve once more. Kit would do whatever it was in his power to see through his mother’s plans. He would put emphasis on the mountains during his regency and he would implement your idea for the betterment of the kingdom. But he had to find you because he refused to be king if you were not his queen.

Kit stayed quiet, feeling the serenity the mountains brought. Despite the raging storm, the absence of the angry waves proved to be the cure to the uproar in him. He still could not think clearly but to see the progress of his mother’s project renewed his determination.

There is nothing here but only a brief respite, he thought to himself. He wanted to stay long, to bask in the peace of it but he knew he must return to his search for you.

He moved to follow his cousin back to the lake when he heard a different voice sing, albeit faint.

Lavender’s blue, dilly, dilly. Lavender’s green.

If you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you.

The lullaby flitted across the mountains, echoing, haunting, even in its hushed tones. His mother’s spirit was alive in these mountains, haunting him but in the best ways possible. Kit remained quiet as he listened to the phantom song that resonated around him.

Let the lambs play, dilly, dilly. Let the lambs play.

You shall be safe, dilly, dilly. Safe from harm’s way.

“I think I believe you now, cousin.” Louis said as he pressed himself beside Kit.

“What?” the prince frowned.

“Do you not hear it? The voice? It’s singing a lullaby.” The duke told his cousin, eyes surveying the empty mining village for where the voice originated.

“You hear it?” Kit asked. He thought it was his mother’s spirit, singing to comfort him, but if Louis could hear it… Then it meant the voice was real.

“Of course, I hear it. I can’t find where it’s from and I do not think I would want to know.”

Kit craned his neck, listening intently for the voice. It was difficult to perceive with the howling of the strong winds but the melancholy, hopeful tone made him want to find it. He stalked aimlessly about the place, turning his ear about until he could discern the voice properly.

“Kit, I do not think it wise—”

“Someone is here, cousin.”

“Aren’t the mines abandoned during the monsoons? How could someone be here when the entire village has left for the season?” He kept close to his cousin, eyes nervously darting about the place, fearing he might see something he did not wish to see. “And if you do see someone, I beg you do not ask me to look unless what you see is corporeal.”

Call up your men, dilly, dilly. Set them to work.

Some to the plough, dilly, dilly. Some to the fork.

The voice sounded stronger towards the end of the village and Kit headed towards it. He considered his cousin’s words, at the possibility of the voice being nothing but an illusion but it was too real—too human, even—to be anything but. It had to be a person, that and nothing more.

The voice seemed to emanate from the well that was situated on the farthest end of the village. A flat piece of wood covered the top but it had enough space for the voice to echo from the inside. As he was about to near it, Louis grabbed at his arm tightly, halting him in his steps.

“What if it were a dangerous animal?” Louis asked his cousin. His words may say differently but his eyes implored him that they leave the place.

Kit looked at his cousin and patted his shoulder. He had to investigate, even if it meant he would do it alone. “If you do not wish to see it, then you may leave. I will remain here.”

“Unwise thing to say and do, cousin. You know I cannot back down from any adventure.” The duke said before he squared his shoulders in an attempt to look big, so at odds with the tremble in his voice. “Let us only hope it will it jump away at the sight of us.”

Some to make hay, dilly, dilly. Some to reap corn.

While you and I, dilly, dilly, keep ourselves warm.

It sounded from inside of the well, louder this time but still weak. Kit and Louis took to one end of the wood plank and shoved it aside.

“Lavender’s blue, dilly, dilly. Lavender’s green. If you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you.” You sang as you watched your reflection on the mirror in your home’s foyer.

Your mother had halted singing and had vanished. You frowned as you whirled around, in search of her. She had been beside you just as you were looking at your reflection. She had dressed you in a pink gown that was once hers and had fawned over you for growing up to look like her. She had even shed a tear at the sight of you, never thinking she would live to see the day to see you become a lady like herself.

“Mother?” you called out. “Mother, where are you?”

“Y/N, my love,” your mother called from above you.

You turned to her, smiling as she stood atop the spiral stairs, dangling the long ribbon down at you.

“Oh, Mother. I thought you had gone,” you told her.

“Tie this ribbon around your waist,” she said with a soft smile. “And whatever you do, do not let go.”

You were confused with her choice of words but heeded her orders nonetheless. You took the piece of ribbon and tied it around your waist, securing it with a knot you had learned from the sailors in one of your many travels.

You felt yourself being pulled upwards and the sudden action made you start and jerk around in your bindings.

“Try not to move around so much, my love.” Your mother said. “Remain calm. Keep singing to me.”

Hands tight on the thin strip of ribbon, you clenched your eyes shut and resumed the lullaby you had been singing with your mother.

“Roses are red, dilly, dilly. Violets are blue.” You sang shakily as you were being hauled up. Your eyes remained closed, afraid that if you open them, you would see how far you had been pulled up from the ground.

“Because you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you.” You heard your mother sing with you.

You took a while to follow through her song, absorbed on keeping your breath and the galloping beats of your heart even.

“Let the birds sing, dilly, dilly. And the lambs play.”

“Very good, my love.” You heard the smile on your mother’s voice. “We are so near.”

Near what, you did not know but you trusted your mother.

“Look at me,” she urged but you declined her request. “You can open your eyes, Y/N. Look at me. I will not put you in harm’s way.”

You slowly opened your eyes, expecting to see the green color of your mother’s eyes but instead, you saw blue. The bluest of all blues you had ever seen.

Lines of laughter crinkled around the eyes you swore were familiar to you. Your own eyes smiled along at the sight of it.

“Sing with me?” the voice asked. It was not your mother’s anymore but it comforted you all the same.

Your lips curved upward, your first genuine smile in what you felt was a long time.

And in one voice, you both sang.

“We shall be safe, dilly, dilly. Out of harm’s way.”

The relief Kit felt was immense and immediate. It felt like water dousing the fire within him, of a warm bowl of soup after the coldness of the winter. It was like a part of him that had been missing had finally been returned to him.

And it had.

Yours was the mysterious voice that sang from the well but you were not the one that called him. Whoever—or whatever—it was, Kit thanked it profusely. If it weren’t for the voice that begged of him to seek the mountains, he would not have thought to visit it. He then wouldn’t have been able to find and rescue you.

He believed he only arrived at the most crucial of times because when you had been rescued from the abandoned well, you were feverish and delirious, badly bruised and your broken ankle had swollen nearly twice its size. You had shivered the moment you emerged from the well and Kit knew he had to take you to the physician immediately so that you would receive the best care.

“How is she?” Kit asked once the physician exited your chambers.

He had left you to the care of the Royal physician and his assistants and had remained outside of your room, unable to watch how they set your grotesque foot back to how it was before. He could not take it seeing you in this great a pain and having no power to take it away. You had suffered enough. Kit wanted to take all of it for himself so you may rest.

“She is asleep, Your Royal Highness,” the man told him. “I have bound her foot in a splint. She would be unable to leave her chambers until it is set properly.”

“And her fever?”

“There is only so much I can do with her fever,” he said. “Let us hope it breaks in the following days. If tonight, however, it has cooled, then she will be safe.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Kit asked, near desperate. “Anything at all I can get her so she may be comfortable?"

The physician shook his head. “There is nothing more we can do. It is all up to her. You must rest, Your Royal Highness. You must keep your health.”

He could only nod his head. He entered your chambers, careful and quiet when he passed through the door. You laid on your bed, dwarfed by the number of pillows they had placed around you. Your ankle had been wrapped in cloth and held still by the splint the physician had mentioned. You were at peace now, asleep, color now on your skin, looking far healthier than when he had first rescued you.

Abigail wrung the water from the cloth and laid it on your forehead.

“How is her fever?” Kit asked as he neared you.

Your maid stood in attention, bowing at the sight of the prince before looking forlornly at your resting figure. “She is still warm to the touch, Your Royal Highness. The physician told me to keep changing the cloth if it has become warm.”

Kit nodded inattentively, eyes and thoughts only towards your slumbering form. He wanted to near you, wanted to hold your hand in his and assure you—and himself—that you were home and safe and no harm will come to you. But instead, he remained where he was, immovable because he did not want to disturb your peace.

He thanked Abigail and left your room without another word.

“Cousin? Is she—?” Louis asked as he passed the prince in the hallway.

“She is fine. Asleep. She is resting.” Kit told him.

“And are you well?” he inquired, peering at the tired look on his cousin’s face.

“I am well,” Kit assured him albeit wearily.

Louis embraced his cousin in relief. “She is found, Kit. There is nothing to worry about anymore.”

Kit returned the gesture, wrapping his arms tight around his cousin. “Thank you,” the prince said, voice choked with emotions that he had been supressing the past days. “Thank you for helping me find her, cousin.”

The next few days proved to be challenging for the prince. Your fever had not broken in the first two nights since you had arrived. Kit had asked of the physician to remain in the palace for longer, afraid to be helpless if the doctor were out of reach and you needed his aid. The Magistrate had commenced the trial for the Grand Duke and had employed for him a lawyer in accordance with the laws of the land. Although the man’s guilt was obvious, the Magistrate found it fair to give him a just trial and be given the opportunity to defend himself from his glaringly evident sins. It frustrated Kit but he followed through with the wishes.

The Prince of Prussia arrived three days after you had been found. Whilst the foreign royal had no information of the duplicity the Grand Duke had done, he had not been surprised at the events.

They convened in the State Hall, with Kit presiding over the gathering. The king joined the meeting as well, albeit only to hear of what his son and the Prussian prince had to say of the Grand Duke.

“Am Großherzog war immer etwas Verwerfliches, aber wir haben nie herausgefunden, was es war.” Prince Frederick told Kit. “Ich schäme mich, dass Ihrem Königreich ein solcher Vorfall passiert ist, und das alles wegen eines Adligen, der aus meinem Königreich kam.” (There was always something reprehensible about the Grand Duke, but we never found out what it was. I am ashamed that such an incident happened to your kingdom, and all because of a nobleman who came from my kingdom.)

Kit only looked at the prince with a watchful eye. While he did not expect the Prussian royal to keep watch all of his nobility, he still should have prevented the man’s departure from his kingdom. There was also the matter of his being one of your admirers, a fact Kit had not forgotten since that fateful night of his mother’s death anniversary ball. He had inquired of you and your health upon his arrival. He was polite and apologetic but it still did not dissuade Kit’s iciness towards the other royal.

If the Prussian royal misinterpreted Kit’s contempt for anything but, he did not show it.

“Dann werden Sie sicherlich nichts gegen die Strafen haben, die unsere Gesetze gegen einen Ihrer Bürger verhängen werden?” Kit asked of him. (Then surely you will not object to the penalties that our laws will inflict on one of your citizens?)

“Nein.” (No.)

Kit turned to his father and saw his nod in agreement.

“Obwohl,” Prince Frederick started and Kit turned his attention back to the Prussian. “Mein einziger Einwand ist die Vollstreckung des Urteils. Wäre es nicht humaner, ihn zu köpfen, als ihn aufzuhängen?” (Although, my only objection lies on the execution of the sentence. Would it not be more humane to behead him than to hang him?)

A regal brow raised on Kit’s face before it turned into a frown. Humane? A nobleman from his country had poisoned the queen and had thrown the princess in a well and yet the prince cried for humanity in his execution? It was absurd!

Kit squared his shoulders and speared the prince a glance that told the people in the Hall that his words will not hear any arguments.

“Du sprichst von Menschlichkeit und doch hat dein Edelmann nicht daran gedacht. Meine Mutter ist wegen ihm gestorben. Meine Frau litt tagelang am tiefen Brunnen, wo er sie zum Sterben zurückließ. Ihn aufzuhängen ist Gnade im Vergleich zu der Strafe, die ich ihm auferlegen will.” Kit told him in a quiet, cold tone that thundered against the walls. (You speak of humanity and yet your nobleman has not thought of it. My mother died because of him. My wife suffered for days in the deep well where he left her to die. Hanging him is mercy compared to the punishment I intend to inflict on him.)

Prince Frederick did not challenge his words and offered another apology at him. “Vergib mir. Ich habe nur gefragt, weil es nicht die preußische Art ist. In unserem Reich—” (Forgive me. I only asked because it is not the Prussian way. In our kingdom—)

“Er hat sich in meinem Königreich geirrt und soll entsprechend bestraft werden.” He told him icily. “Ich habe Sie nicht nach Ihrer Meinung gefragt, Ihre Königliche Hoheit." (He has erred in my kingdom and shall be punished accordingly. I did not ask for your opinion, Your Royal Highness.)

The Prussian Prince bowed as he ceded Kit’s words. “Ich muss mich noch einmal für den Schmerz entschuldigen, den er Ihnen, Ihrer Familie und dem Königreich zugefügt hat.” (I must apologize once again for the pain he has caused you, your family, and the kingdom.)

Kit nodded briskly.

“Und Sie müssen mir meine Unwissenheit über Ihre Ehe verzeihen. Ich hoffe meine Verwirrung ist entschuldigt. Ich dachte, du wärst mit Prinzessin Chelina von Saragossa verlobt?” Prince Frederick watched him cautiously, unsure how to continue without offending the other prince. (And you must forgive my ignorance of your marriage. I hope my confusion is excused. I thought you were engaged to Princess Chelina of Zaragoza?)

Kit looked around the Hall, to the guards that stood waiting for their orders, and he waved his hand to dismiss them. Prince Frederick did the same with his. When all were left were Kit, his father, Prince Frederick, and Louis, Kit answered Frederick’s inquiry.

“Meine Verlobung mit Prinzessin Chelina wurde vom Großherzog in der Hoffnung entworfen, mehr Kontrolle zu haben. Mein Vater und ich waren uns seiner Absichten nicht bewusst, als ich der Gewerkschaft zum ersten Mal zustimmte. Wir hielten es für klug, dass ich seine Nichte heirate, wegen der Dienste, die er meinem Vater erwiesen hatte. Während der Hochzeitsvorbereitungen fand die Sekretärin meines Vaters einen Ehevertrag zwischen mir und meiner Frau.” Kit said. (My engagement to Princess Chelina was designed by the Grand Duke in hopes of having more control. My father and I were unaware of his intentions when I first agreed to the union. We thought it wise for me to marry his niece because of the service he had rendered my father. During the preparations for the wedding, my father’s secretary found a marriage contract between me and my wife.)

The Prince of Prussia looked at him confusedly. “Sie wussten nicht, dass es einen solchen Vertrag gibt?” (You did not know that such contract existed?)

Kit shook his head. “Nein. Das war ein Vertrag, den ich als Junge unterschrieben habe.” (No. That was a contract I signed as a boy.)

Kit then explained carefully to his guest all that had transpired, from the signing of the contract to the days that led up to the discovery of the truth of his mother’s death. The prince listened intently to the tale, asking questions when Kit allowed them, and when it was over, he could only watch the royal family in awe and confusion.

“Verzeihen Sie, dass ich frage, aber warum bezeichnen Sie sie als Ihre Frau, wenn der Magistrat Ihre Scheidung bewilligt hat?” Prince Frederick asked him. (Forgive me for asking, but why do you call her your wife when the magistrate has approved your divorce?)

Kit looked at him directly, eyes passionate and sure. “Weil sie meine Frau in jeder wichtigen Hinsicht ist.” (Because she is my wife in every way that matters.)

That seemed to have quelled the Prussian royal’s curiosity, who only nodded in understanding.

“Ich muss Ihnen sagen, dass ich Sie dafür beneide, solch einen Edelstein zu beschaffen. Ich hätte meine Klage angeboten, wenn nur die Gesetze meines Königreichs so mild wären wie deine.” He told Kit. (I must tell you that I envy you for procuring such a gem. I would have offered my suit if only the laws of my kingdom were as lenient as yours.)

Kit said nothing to that.

Prince Frederick rose from his seat. “Ich werde in Ihrem Königreich bleiben, bis der Prozess gegen den Großherzog abgeschlossen ist. Ich werde dafür sorgen, dass er für seine Sünden bestraft wird. Darf ich in der Zwischenzeit meine liebste Freundin besuchen und sehen, wie es ihr geht?” (I will remain in your kingdom until the Grand Duke’s trial is complete. I will make sure he is punished for his sins. In the meantime, may I visit my dearest friend and see how she is doing?)

Kit stood as well, nodding once to his father and to his cousin. He led the prince to your chambers, entering once he and the Prussian prince were announced.

Chelina, who sat on one of the plush seats by the window, stood and bowed before the two princes. She had taken it upon herself to keep watch of you—her self-imposed penance for her uncle’s sins despite her being his victim as well.

“Your Royal Highness,” she addressed Prince Frederick.

“Princess, Prince Frederick wishes to see how Y/N is.” Kit told her

“She remains the same, still asleep but her fever has cooled.” Chelina replied as she cast a glance at your direction.

Prince Frederick turned to Kit as if to ask for permission. When it was given, he sat at the vacant seat beside your bed and began talking to you as though you were awake. Kit kept a watchful eye on Frederick, making sure he kept the appropriate distance from you.

“The physician is hopeful that she will be well, Kit.” Chelina told him as she passed him a cup of tea. “He thinks she will wake soon.”

Kit took the offered cup. “Thank you for watching her, Chelina.”

She smiled softly at his direction. “It is in service of a friend.”

“You were a victim as well. You must not claim his sins as yours.”

Her smile turned wistful and she turned away. “I am his sister’s daughter. Let me be ashamed for what my kin has done.”

“It is he who must repent.” Kit took a sip of the tea. “Not you. You are blameless.”

She gave him another of her grateful smiles. Kit left the Prussian Prince under the watchful eye of the princess and went about his remaining business for the day. Louis had appointed himself as his adviser for the time being while Kit took over his father’s business. They pored over countless laws and paperwork, signing and granting help to the people who needed them. Kit took to reviewing the proposals the Grand Duke had left and found that most of the funds that were to be delegated to the construction of a new village were instead being siphoned to his personal accounts. More and more of the nobleman’s deceit were being uncovered after every new proposal Kit worked on.

Come evening, he was exhausted. His princely education had not warned him that businesses went on for more than a day, that even after finishing one decree, there were three more waiting to be reviewed and signed by him. He did not complain, only finished another task before starting another. When his father had seen his diligence, he had praised him but had also told him that his health was much more important than matters of the state.

Kit walked to your chambers, finding the physician changing the dressing that had been draped on your foot. Your ankle did not look as grotesque as when he had first seen it and the swelling had gone down to what the physician deemed as “manageable.” Kit did not know what it meant but the way the physician said it assured him that you were in no more danger. He did not give any new prognosis, other than that you were bound to wake soon. The prince thanked the doctor before sitting on the seat beside your bed.

“Forgive me for being away for the day, my love. I had taken over Father’s work and his office. The kingdom is in disarray after the storm ravaged the crops and the villages. I’ve employed my mother’s plans for management in times of crises. I think you would have offered me the same advice if I had asked you.”

He smiled to himself when he took your hand in his. Yours was small in his and did not pull away when he squeezed it.

“Wake up soon, my love. I want nothing more than to see your beautiful eyes.” Kit pleaded as he placed a light kiss on the top of your hand.

He spent the rest of the night beside you, telling you of what had transpired throughout the day. He watched for every small movement, anything at all that would have told him you were to wake but you did not move. You only stayed as you were, asleep, having no idea of the fear that started to blossom in him with every moment you spent unconscious.

You did not wake that night.

The next morning, as Kit got up from spending the night in your chambers by your side, Chelina entered, holding in her hands a missive. It had been sent ahead of her parents’ arrival to tell her that the storm had delayed them and had been received by a nearby estate, only to stay there until the storm has passed.

"We must address one more concern, Kit,” Chelina said as she stood before him. “I have talked to your father about it and it is imperative that I have it with you as well.”

Kit merely raised a brow. He did not know what else there was that should concern the Zaragozan princess.

“I believe we will not marry each other.” She looked expectantly at the prince. “Our engagement was a ploy by my uncle and now that we have uncovered it, I believe there is no need to continue with it. My ideas and plans do not align with yours and we are both too stubborn to submit to one another. I do not think it a good start to any marriage.”

Her reasons were sound, if not a little illogical for people in their stature. He only shook his head. “No, I do not think it too.”

She smiled. “Finally. One thing we agree upon.”

He smiled tiredly.

“You would be free to marry whomever you wish,” she said as she cast a glance at you. “Follow your heart’s desires.”

He would need to speak with his father of that.

“They will not be happy with the broken engagement.” She said with a sigh as she turned to look at him. “After all, it was what they have travelled here for.”

“I shall talk to them. You should not shoulder all the burden your uncle has placed on us.”

Her smile was grateful. “I thank you, Kit.”

“What of you, then?” he asked.

“What of me?”

“You gave me leave to follow my heart. Would you not do the same with yours?”

Her silence—or reluctance to reply to his question—was answer enough for Kit.

“I thought you and my cousin love each other?” he asked.

She nodded forlornly and smiled sadly. “He is not a prince. My parents will only have me marry a royal.”

“He is my cousin. If I refuse to be king, he is next in line for the throne.” Kit reasoned. Louis was as good as a prince. His title may not be one but as his cousin, he had a claim to the throne.

“That will not be enough for them. And do not worry yourself on my account. I do not worry for it.” She waved a hand dismissively although the emotion on her face was far from it.

He would not want that for his friend.

“Chelina—”

“It is the consequence of our title, Kit. I am a princess. I am not given the choice to follow my own heart. It has been the same practice, done by my mother and my mother’s mother. Who am I to defy that?”

“Even if it means your happiness?” He frowned. Surely, after all the events, her parents would give her leave to do as she pleased.

“I am not allowed happiness. What I am allowed is to follow my parents’ wishes.” She sighed and took her hands in his, squeezing them. “I am thankful for your concern, Kit, truly I am, but I have resigned myself to this fate. There is nothing for me to do.”

However Kit wanted to argue, he knew the princess would not allow it. Instead, he only nodded.

“I wish you well, then, Your Royal Highness.” Kit told her sincerely.

The Accidental Princess (Part 10)

Prince Kit x Reader

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

Chapter Synopsis: Kit learns the truth

Word Count: 13.9k words

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

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

Masterlist

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

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

The man killed his mother.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn diplomacy!” the prince spat.

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

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

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

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

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

“And he will. In due time.”

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

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

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

“It seems to me you are defending him!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you even thinking, Granville? You—”

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

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

He pushed the prince away and huffed in frustration.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kit merely nodded. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

Kit gave a tight nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What more did he want? Kit thought to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Your Royal Highness.”

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

Thibault bowed. Kit turned to his cousin.

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

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

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

“Do not accuse—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My uncle, the Grand Duke.”

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

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

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

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

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

The mines.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shook her head once more.

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

“Am I to believe these lands are valuable?”

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

Chelina touched the stone gingerly, looking down at it.

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

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

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

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

She appeared to be genuinely surprised at his question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I trust you?”

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

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

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

“Your uncle murdered my mother.”

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

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

“I beg your pardon?” she whispered shakily.

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

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

He nodded seriously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then I need your help, Princess.”

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

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

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

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

Kit turned to go but Chelina halted his steps.

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

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

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

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

It was dark.

And silent.

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

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

The Grand Duke!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rain, you thought with a panic.

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

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

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

“HELP! HELP ME PLEASE!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kit gave a grim nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know where he is now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kit nodded. “How recent was it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My father is resting, Your Grace.”

“Yes, but these papers—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Digitalis purpurea?” Kit supplied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did she ask of?” Kit questioned.

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

“Was that all?”

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

Kit nodded. “Yes, she did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, Your Royal Highness.”

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

“No, Your Royal Highness.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who asked?”

“I did,” Kit said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your Royal Highness—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I cannot waste time—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chelina—” His cousin started to protest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Agreed.” Kit nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kit did not withdraw his sword.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rains were unrelenting above you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Accidental Princess (Part 12)

Prince Kit x Reader

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

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

Word Count: 13.6k words

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

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

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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

The storm had taken a turn for the worst.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kit. The prince. Your former husband.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ambitious girl,” it snarled.

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

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

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

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

.

Your eyes flew open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guards!”

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

“Y/N, let me help—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He killed the queen,” you told her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Princess Chelina will—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

Kit was here.

Kit was alive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you?” he countered, voice quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded, knowing you would not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I was too late—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where were you going?” he asked quietly.

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

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

“The Grand Duke.” You whispered shakily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My love,

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

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

All my love forever,

Kit

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They are not to wed,” she replied.

You frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

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

“Rumors?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You left your conversation at that.

Kit arrived by dinnertime.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What truth?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was not your fault, Your Royal—”

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

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

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

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

“I truly am sorry, Miss—”

“Y/N, please,” you offered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you love him—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She took another sip of her tea.

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

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

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

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

“What for?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I shall look forward to them.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Does Louis know?”

He paused. “No, I do not think so.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

“I know.”

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kit…”

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

“But still—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lizards and Pumpkins

AU Young Leto Atreides x fem reader

Summary: A ball is being held in the hopes that Leto Atreides will find an eligible maiden to marry as he is expected to become the next Duke of Caladan.

*This storyline will be similar to Disney’s Live Action Cinderella (2015). There the dress you will be wearing is like that one.

Author's note: This is my first fanfic ever. Therefore, please be kind about any feedback you all may have. Other than that, enjoy and let’s see where it goes from here.

When you get to the bottom of the steps, you notice the man from the forest you met a while back walking towards you. However, you had know idea he was the Leto Atreides of Caladan. You had been told that he was an apprentice in training but you had no idea you were speaking to the next Duke in line.

At this moment, you two are face to face with each other.

“It's you, isn't it?” Leto asks.

“Just so. Your grace…”, you respond and curtsy to him.

“If I may... that is... it would give me the greatest pleasure, if you would do me the honor of letting me lead you through this... the first…”, Leto struggles to say what’s on his mind due to being in a daze by your beauty.

“Dance?” You ask, smiling sweetly at him.

“Yes, dance. That's it.” He finally gets out.

While you and Leto start dancing, you notice the people surrounding you both.

You whisper to him, “They're all looking at you.”

At that statement, Leto smiles and says, “Believe me, they're all looking at you.”

——————————————————————

Leto pushes you gently on the swing in the secluded garden he shows you as you both carry on having meaningful chats.

A clink is heard, and you realize your slipper is off your foot. Upon noticing this, Leto stops pressing you, gets on her knees, and places the slipper on your foot.

With awe, he asks, "It's made of glass?"

"Why not?" you ask him, grinning.

Then, as though he wants to kiss you, he leans in close. "Will you please tell me your true identity?"

After giving it some thought, you say, "If I do, I think everything might be different."

Leto says, "I don't understand," with a perplexed expression. “At least, could you tell me your name?”

Just as you prepare to inform Leto, the clock chimes 11:59. That's when you recall what the fairy godmother said. You say as you turn to face Leto. "I must go now. It is difficult to describe. Pumpkins, lizards, and other things. You tell him you'll never forget it and thank him again for a fantastic night.

Leto murmurs, "Lizards and Pumpkins," as he watches you dash out of the garden. With a smile, he chooses to follow you.

One of your glass slippers slips on the palace steps as you walk to your carriage. Even if at first you want to pick up, you change your mind as you notice Leto approach you and climb inside the carriage.

When the carriage pulls out of the palace, you see Leto stoop to retrieve your slipper. You grin as you recall the amazing evening you spent with Leto. Despite your feeling that this is the final time you will ever see him.

You have no idea that Leto is planning to locate you. In one kind or another.

Lizards and Pumpkins (Part 2)

AU Young Leto Atreides x fem reader

Part 1 Below:

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Lizards and Pumpkins

AU Young Leto Atreides x fem reader Summary: A ball is being held in the hopes that Leto Atreides will find an eligible maiden to marry as

Summary: After the events of the ball and the old, Leto is appointed the newly appointed Duke of Caladan and has finally found the maiden who has won his heart. Will he accept you as you are?

A/N: Though this story was intended to be similar to Disney’s Live Action Cinderella (2015), it will start to go a bit off of that storyline.

As you are being brought to face the newly appointed Duke Leto by Captain Duncan Idaho , you have a lot of thoughts running through your mind. Some of these thoughts consist of: What will the kingdom think of me if I stand by him? Does he feel for me the way that I do for him? Will this relationship last if it goes further?

Going down the steps, you take in your appearance. A light blue dress with a brown petticoat and a white headpiece covering your hair.

Leto looks at you with a smile on his face, happy to finally be in your presence after weeks of searching for you. “Who are you?”

In response, you answer, “I am (y/n). Your grace, I am no duchess. I have no carriage, no parents, no dowry. I do not even know if that beautiful slipper will fit But, if it does--will you take me as I am? A good honest country girl who loves you?”

“Of course, I would. But only if you'll take me as I am, an apprentice still learning his trade. Please…” , he looks at you pleading. You nod.

Leto invites you to sit on a nearby chair as the Captain looks on with a smile as he places the slipper on your foot. To the surprise of neither of you, it fits perfectly.

You then take his hand and walk out with him out to the palace.

*This was a very short story. Wondering if I should write a chapter about their wedding and honeymoon.