The Lady and the Prince

In the morning Prince Nicky sat morosely in math class and brooded about yesterday. It had been the worst day of his life.

He’d been excused his afternoon classes. Bored, he had decided to ride Falcon for a little while and had just been doing some simple figure eights when the horse slipped, partly went down, and tossed him into the mud. Walking his hunter back to the stable, he’d been relieved to see the animal was uninjured, but he was a mess and it was nearly two.

He’d spotted Arthur practicing broadsword technique with Master Connidian in the public arms practice area. Arthur usually practiced in the public area; he liked everyone to see he was ready for battle. Nicky had trotted over and begged him to meet Lady Elizabeth for him while he cleaned up, and Arthur had agreed. Arthur had always been nice, even if he was a little eccentric.

Nicky had dashed to his room, leaving a trail of muddy water in the halls. He’d stripped off his boots and jacket and finished undressing under a stream of water that left streaks of mud from his hair down his soaked clothes. But at least by the time he’d fully undressed he was clean. He’d left a pile of sopping wet, muddy clothes for the servants to clean up, and in payment for the extra work, they brought him plain oatmeal and dry toast for breakfast this morning. He could have sent it back and ordered something else, but he didn’t want to start a war with the servants. In the long run, they could make his life pretty miserable.

Anyway, he’d dried himself and dressed quickly, buttoning his shirt as he trotted down the hall, stopped and tucked it in, and then loosely knotted his scarf and buttoned his jacket while quickly descending the stairs. He hadn’t been very late after all.

And then he had spotted her. Lady Elizabeth was huge; not fat, but tall—taller than he was. And that dress! Was that what they were wearing out in the rural areas these days? The upper level servants in the palace dressed better than that.

He could tell from the way she was looking at him that she didn’t like what she saw either. She tried to hide it with a fake smile. At least he was honest in the way he looked at her. And what did she think was wrong with him anyway? He was younger than she was, but that didn’t matter, royal marriages sometimes included age mismatches. That was just the way it was. And he was good-looking, dressed well if a bit hastily, and he’d been polite, hadn’t he?

He hated to even think about dinner. When the servants came with those ridiculous clothes for him to put on, they’d come with a couple of very large men prepared to force him into them if necessary. He’d saved himself the indignity and dressed himself, and then he’d had to let them do that to his hair. Ugh.

It was hard for him to believe that Richard had done it to him and then laughed about it. He’d always thought that Richard liked him. Well, maybe he did, it had worked out to Nicky’s advantage in the end, hadn’t it? His attempt to use his magic to trip Richard in revenge had failed, but perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing if Richard had actually been trying to help him while causing him acute embarrassment, of course.

Hiding behind Lady Elizabeth and her big skirts had sort of worked at dinner until the king made a spectacle of him. People were going to be snickering at him for days. He had escaped as quickly as he could, but he was just the palace laughingstock now.

He suddenly realized that Master Morelle had stopped talking. Nicky looked up, and the math tutor asked, “And the answer is?” The prince just shook his head; he didn’t even know what the question had been.

Master Morelle sighed and said, “Your face is a little pink. You are angry at the square and the cube?” Nicky shook his head again, and the tutor said, “Then, Your Highness, you are thinking about yesterday, perhaps.”

The young prince just dropped his eyes and turned his head away. “Your Highness, everyone has such days. You will live through it, and in a few months no one will remember, or at least they will no longer care.”

Nicky replied, “It was the first day with my fiancée. She thinks I’m a fool, and I have to meet her after lunch.”

“Prince Nicky, you are certainly not a fool. You are very bright, and after lunch you will show her this, yes?” Nicky nodded. “Then you are dismissed, Your Highness, and my good wishes go with you.”

The prince stood up and said, “Thank you very much, Master Morelle,” and left.

Lunch was slices of cold beef, a tangy cheese, fresh rolls and butter, and chunks of apples and pears, all things he liked, so the servants had accepted the apology implied by him consuming the bad breakfast without complaint. It was served to him by his new valet, Winkershime. Winkershime had arrived after breakfast, introduced himself, and started going through Nicky’s wardrobe. The valet was a small neat man, impeccably dressed and correct, and Nicky wasn’t quite sure how to treat him yet. He had never had a personal servant who reported directly to him rather than the other way around. Nurses and governesses had told him what to do, but apparently the man knew what he was doing, so Nicky just let him do his job.

The prince checked his hair before he went to the green sitting room. He had gotten it cut that morning just to be sure it could never ever be put in ringlets again. He had a tendency to rake his hand through the shorter hair and mess it up, just like he had run his hand through his longer hair to get it back from his face when it was loose. It still looked fine, so he went to meet Lady Elizabeth.

When he reached the green sitting room, Lady Elizabeth was already there, and a plump thirtyish woman was sitting on a sofa, knitting. Both of them rose and curtsied. Besides the sofa there were just two wooden chairs in the room, set in front of a window facing each other with a table in between them as if set up for a game of some kind. The view out of the window was of a small patch of grass and some bushes in front of one of the palace walls; uninteresting, even without the rain that was steadily falling.

When Elizabeth rose from her curtsy and looked at him, she was surprised. He did look a lot different with his hair cut short, and he was wearing conservative clothing that made him look older. He bowed a little to her and gestured at the chair for her to sit.

Prince Nicky said, “You don’t have to do all that bobbing up and down, it’s silly. We’re engaged after all, and no one in the family expects you to curtsy to them. Well, except you do have to curtsy to the king and queen, or if it’s a formal public occasion.” Don’t you know anything about protocol?

“Thank you, that’s good to know,” Elizabeth replied, sitting down again. She didn’t appreciate his disparaging tone, but she was determined to get along with him. “I was introduced to Queen Isabella and her ladies this morning.”

“Ah. I understand they do a lot of stitching or something.”

“Yes, embroidery, and one of the ladies plays the lute and sings, or they play the latest games and chat.”

“Are you going to join them, become a part of the queen’s court?”

“I don’t think so. I’m not very good at embroidery, and there are other things I need to do, being new here.”

He saw her noticing his hair. “Like it? I had the palace barber cut it this morning and give me a shave too.” Not that he had really needed the shave, but he wanted to look nice. He was shaving once or twice a week anyway, and he wanted her to know that he did shave.

“Very much, it makes you look very…” She hesitated, but finished with “Handsome.” It wasn’t quite the right word. He wasn’t classically handsome; his face was a little too thin and his mouth a little too wide, but she found the lively intelligence in his eyes very attractive. And he did look older and more masculine with short hair.

He wondered what she had been going to say instead. He knew he wasn’t as good-looking as Arthur or Richard, but he wasn’t bad-looking, really. He folded his hands on the table in front of him to keep from tapping impatiently and sat staring at her. What in the world could they talk about for an hour? Nicky couldn’t think of anything they had in common. The chaperone’s knitting needles clicked in the silence.

After an uncomfortable moment, Elizabeth asked, “What classes do you take?” Asking about school was likely the least interesting thing an adult could say to a child, but what else did they have to talk about?

Nicky hoped this wasn’t going to be another “Arthur” conversation. “I have Production Trade and Money, Drusian, and math in the morning. After this, I go to GPE—that’s Genealogy Protocol and Etiquette, and then Arms.”

“That sounds interesting.” Elizabeth cringed a bit at the banal words. Nicky thought, Maybe there is some hope that she realizes how badly this is going.

“Prince Nicky—”

“Nick, please. And do people call you Liz, Liza, Beth, Betty or what?”

“Just Elizabeth. Nick, Princess Anne said that you could arrange for me to take some classes too. I really do need to learn Franckish, at least. Perhaps, you could recommend some other classes as well?”

Nick was pleasantly surprised. If Elizabeth was willing to learn, it was possible she could become someone he could talk to in addition to Anne and Richard. “Sure. GPE would help you adjust to palace life. I mean a beginning course, not the advanced version that I’m in. Are you any good with weapons?”

“Weapons? No, of course I don’t know anything about weapons.” The question surprised her. She had never heard of women using weapons. Was he trying to fool her in some way?

“You should take Arms then too.” At her bewildered look, he explained, “I don’t want to scare you, but as royals we can attract the wrong kind of attention. And the guards can’t be right next to you all the time, so you have to be able to defend yourself, at least for a few minutes until they can get to you. Everyone in the family has taken weapons training. Anne is just wicked fast with a dagger.”

Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully and then came to a decision. Prince Richard hadn’t told her to keep it a secret or anything, so she told him about the two men on horseback chasing her with swords. “Do you think they went after me because of my engagement? We hadn’t even been notified of the Council’s decision yet when it happened.”

Nick leaned back and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it up into wayward points on the top of his head.

“Probably, just being a candidate could be enough…unless your family has local enemies?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “How could I have defended myself against something like that?”

“I don’t know, unless you had a bow with you or throwing knives or something. Ask Master Connidian, he’s the arms master. But the important thing is that you survived. That’s what the weapons training is about, how to survive, even if it means running away and hiding.” Which would be fine for a girl, but a man would never do that. “I’ll set up classes for you in Franckish, GPE, and Arms then.”

Elizabeth smiled and nodded. “Thank you, I’m sure that will help me.”

They sat in silence for a little while listening to the knitting needles, and then Nick said, “There’s a hunt tomorrow. It will be my first on my new hunter, Falcon. That’s why I was late to meet you yesterday. I was practicing for the hunt.”

“Prince Arthur explained. I’m sure you’ll do well. What do you hunt?”

“This is a court hunt, so we follow the dogs that follow a scent lure. It’s just for fun, anyone at court can come. Richard sometimes takes his officers on real hunts after deer or boar, but those are much more dangerous, and the ladies don’t participate. Would you like to come?”

Elizabeth just said, “No, thank you.” She didn’t want to admit to her lack of riding skills too. Nick probably already thought she was a dolt. And since he had classes much of the day, she could very likely learn to ride reasonably well without him ever knowing that she couldn’t now.

Nick leaned in close to her, grinning with an impish look in his eyes, and whispered, “When we have a nice day, we’ll get a couple of fast horses and give our chaperone a slow one and escape.”

Elizabeth automatically shook her head; she would likely be thrown by a fast horse. Then she realized that she had rebuffed Nick’s proposal and, by extension, him. She wanted to change her mind, but his face had fallen when she shook her head, and he was sitting back with his arms crossed, a stony look in his eyes. The chaperone looked up from her knitting at the whisper and sudden quiet, but they were both sitting there quite decorously.

Nick thought, So she’s not interested in me, she just wants the money and prestige of being a princess. Well, fine, as long as she performs properly in the role, I’ll do my duty. He said coldly, “I have a suite of rooms down at the other end of the hall from you, so I’ll stop by yours to escort you to dinner. I need to go to my GPE class now. Today I’m learning a Telesian dance of some sort, although I doubt I’ll ever use it. Thank you for your time, Lady Elizabeth. We must do this again some time.”

Elizabeth wanted to say something to clear up the misunderstanding, but it would be too hard to explain why she had refused to fall in with his plan. They had months to get to know each other; it could wait for a later conversation. She just said, “Until later then,” while the chaperone rose and curtsied as the prince left.

Elizabeth had the afternoon free, so she asked Sylvie to show her the library. Servants weren’t allowed in except to clean, so her maid just escorted her to the door. The library had more books than Elizabeth had known existed, so she spent a pleasant afternoon wandering around, looking at the titles, and browsing interesting volumes.

Eventually she found an old history book and, oddly enough, a small book on magic hidden behind it. She knew a little about history, but almost nothing about magic other than people used to be executed for using it. The last execution had taken place before she was born, and she wasn’t sure she believed that magic was real in spite of there being a law against it. But she thought it might be interesting to read the two books together and see if she could see any possible influence of magic, real or imagined, on history. She took both books with her.

When Elizabeth returned to her suite, she found she now had several dresses that had been altered to be more in line with court fashion, so she had a choice of what to wear to dinner. But she was going to have to find out how to access her allowance and go shopping. Perhaps she could get Anne to go with her, but if not, Sylvie could advise her on what shops to visit and escort her.

Prince Nicky tapped on her door a few minutes before six, dressed nicely in what Elizabeth was coming to recognize as normal court attire. Beyond a polite greeting, he said nothing to her as he escorted her to their places at the high table. Elizabeth tried to think of something to talk about over dinner that would interest him.

The queen, Princess Eugenie, and Princess Giselle carried on an animated conversation about potentially having a ball to welcome Elizabeth, but since the conversation was entirely in Franckish and Elizabeth obviously didn’t understand a word of it, they concluded they should wait a few months. Nick listened to it politely, and Elizabeth didn’t have a chance to begin a conversation with him in Anglian.

Near the end of the meal, Crown Prince Edward signaled the loud-voiced servant who announced the king’s coming and going, and the man called for quiet. The crown prince stood up and projected his voice out to the low tables. “You may have noticed that our friends, the ambassador from Franck and his party, did not join us for dinner this evening. That is because they have received distressing news and are on their way home. After a short illness, His Majesty King Charles has passed on to his eternal reward. I and Princess Eugenie will be leaving tomorrow to represent Anglia at the service.” He sat, and the tables erupted in conversation and speculation about the news.

Elizabeth turned to Nick and asked, “What does that mean? What will happen?”

Nick kept his attention on his food, but said, “It means Crown Prince Louis is now in charge, although he won’t be crowned until after the official period of mourning—three months, I believe, in Franck.”

“Will that change anything between Anglia and Franck?”

“Oh, yes. Old King Charles never liked us much, but he could tolerate Anglia for the sake of peace. Louis hates us with a passion.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know. If I ever meet him, shall I ask him for you?”

Elizabeth turned back to her food. Smart-mouthed boy, she thought. I suppose I’ll have to ask Anne or Richard to get a decent explanation. Oh, Gramp, I wish you had explained more to me, and not just Jamie. Although I don’t suppose you could have told me much about Franck anyway.

When dinner was over, Prince Nicky escorted her silently to her suite, saying only, “Good night,” when they arrived and not waiting for her to say it back before he walked away.

The following day dawned bright and clear with just a few high clouds that quickly burned off. Nicky got Falcon ready and joined the group of riders waiting for the horn to start the hunt. Anne and Richard were there, of course; they were avid riders. Richard and Winslow, Duke of Glenriver, were in a private conversation, while Anne chatted with Lady Alice, who was new at court. The Earl of Ulle conversed with the Duke of Denland, and the Duke of Haas was also there with his two sons as well as the Drusian, Ibarran, and Telesian ambassadors and their parties. Nick walked Falcon over to talk to Lord Albert, his cousin. If Bertie’s family hadn’t spent most of their time at their country estate, the two might have been good friends. As it was, Nick was glad to see someone he knew that he could ride with. Overall, there were thirty or forty riders, a good turnout.

“What’s the prize today?” Anne asked Richard when he joined her and Lady Alice.

“A bottle of twenty-year-old whiskey, I believe.”

“Come by my suite after dinner tonight, and I’ll give you a glass,” Anne teased. Richard laughed. Either of them had a good shot at taking the prize. Richard was a superb rider who often led the way across rough, uneven ground, while Anne’s lighter weight let her catch up in open areas. Others sometimes won too, but the royal siblings were always among the hunt leaders. Nicky didn’t expect to keep up with them on his first hunt; keeping up with Bertie would be challenge enough. If he could finish honorably in the middle of the pack, he would be well-satisfied.

Then the horn sounded, and the dogs were released. They threaded their way down a grassy area between two manicured gardens with their noses to the ground, baying happily, and then swerved right and headed for a wooded area. Nicky could hear people talking and laughing as the riders followed at a leisurely pace, so the route so far was a familiar one, although it was all new to him.

Nicky stayed just behind the leaders as he followed Anne’s path through the woods. There were low set jumps there that Falcon cleared easily just as her hunter had, and he went over them next to his cousin, the two young men grinning at each other as they landed. Nicky’s horse was built along similar lines to Anne’s, and he had decided from the start to depend on her judgment and keep to her trail as much as he could.

On the far side of the woods the ground became more uneven and there were patches of thick bushes as well. Richard took his heavier mount through and over them, while Anne snaked around them. Nicky couldn’t see exactly where she had gone and lost track of Bertie too. As he threaded his way through, he found he had to jump a small gulch that appeared suddenly. He urged Falcon forward and made the jump, although the landing was jarring. Falcon recovered, and they came out into another field and turned left, but he had lost ground.

The dogs were halfway across the field, and the hunt leaders weren’t far behind with Bertie following. He spurred Falcon and began to catch up a little with the main group of riders in front of him. He could see a tall fence coming up ahead. The dogs went through it and some of the riders were going over it, although a few horses refused the jump. Their riders turned them and rode off to the side where they could go around it, but they lost time and ground and ended up trailing at least half the hunt that had just gone around the fence to start with.

Anne and Richard had gone over the fence, Bertie just a length behind them. Nicky didn’t want Bertie to beat him, at least, not too badly. He thought Falcon could do it and tried to judge his horse’s strides, giving him his head just a few strides from the fence. He felt Falcon gather himself, and they sailed over with only a little tick of a hoof as they cleared it. That put him just behind the leaders again and only a little behind his cousin.

There was a larger gulch beyond the fence and a hedge past that. Anne, Richard, and Bertie approached the gulch almost even, Anne’s horse taking it exactly in stride and forging ahead. But Nicky could feel that Falcon was tiring a bit; he would have to do more long distance training. He decided to go left around the gulch and hedge and swerved over in front of the main body of riders. He would lose ground, but it was safer, and he really did want to make it to the finish.

To his joy, beyond the hedge the dogs were turning left. He was going to catch up with the leaders, and his horse wouldn’t be any more tired than theirs.

He spurred Falcon and reached the side of the hedge just as Anne went over followed by Richard and Bertie. He watched them with a grin that turned to horror. Anne made it over, but her horse’s back end bumped sideways as it landed; it staggered, but kept its feet. But there was something wrong with the horses behind her. She was looking back at Richard’s and Bertie’s horses as they went down hard in a tangled mess. Nicky could see Bertie try to jump free and not make it. Richard tried to pull his horse’s head up, but the animal’s front legs were still folded under as it hit the ground, and it went over headfirst with Richard still in the saddle.

He couldn’t believe what he had seen. Anne had pulled up and was calling for help. Someone rode in front of the hedge and waved everyone off. The hunt stopped, and nearby riders came over to the accident and some dismounted. Nicky’s view was eventually cut off by the gathering crowd, but he didn’t need to see anymore. Both Richard and his horse lay still on the ground; the horse’s head was twisted and Richard wasn’t moving. Bertie’s horse was screaming and thrashing, and Nicky couldn’t see his cousin at all at first. He rode around to the other side of the group, and then he saw him. Bertie’s head was positioned at an impossible angle; he was dead.

He couldn’t help them, he couldn’t stand to listen to the screaming horse and exclamations from the others, and he certainly didn’t want to see Bertie’s body again; the image was burned into his brain. Was Richard dead too? Prince Nicky headed back to the palace. Others were going to summon help, and he let Falcon gallop along with them without really noticing what was happening around him. He realized he was crying and wiped his sleeve across his face as he rode.

Bertie was dead, and maybe so was Richard. Cousin Albert was gone, and Prince Richard Stephen Warwick, Warleader of Anglia, might be dead too. The only person he knew who might have been his friend had been killed, and the man who had acted like a father to him could be gone too in a simple riding accident. Nicky wasn’t sure he really believed it yet, even though he had seen it. Bertie had been young and relatively inexperienced, but Richard was—had been—a superb rider; it just wasn’t possible.

He clattered into the palace grounds in the group, others telling the tale, calling for a stretcher, for doctors. He walked Falcon to the stable and dismounted. He removed his horse’s tack and rubbed him down mechanically and then walked to the palace and went to his room.

He stood outside the door, but then he realized he was in the wrong place. That wasn’t his room anymore; he had a new suite. Numbly he went through the halls, thinking someone should tell Bertie’s parents, Giselle, the king. It wasn’t going to be him though.

He went into his sitting room and let Winkershime help him off with his boots and his coat. Winkershime was well-trained and knew it wasn’t his place to speak first, but he could see there was something deeply wrong with his young master.

“Your Highness?” he said tentatively. “Are you well?”

Nicky shook his head and said, “I’m not ill. I don’t want to be disturbed.” He walked into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He could hear the shouting outside, horses galloping off, someone running down the hallway. It didn’t matter; no one could do anything to help Bertie.

The noise gradually subsided, and at some point he fell asleep. He woke some time later to more voices, hushed this time, punctuated by crying and the occasional loud wail or shout of “No!”

It was nearly dark out when someone tapped on his door. He said, “Go away,” but they didn’t. They tapped again, and Anne’s voice said, “Nicky, I’m coming in.”

She closed the door behind her and came over to the bed and looked down at him. “Why?” she asked. “Why did you do it? He was your cousin. How could you?”

Nicky just stared up at her numbly. What was she talking about?

Anne continued, “I saw it, you know. I thought Richard’s horse had bumped mine, and I looked back. But it hadn’t, something else bumped my horse, something I couldn’t see, and it kept the front legs of Richard’s and Bertie’s horses folded under. I could see the animals struggling as they fell, I could see Richard trying to save his horse until it was too late. Why? Was it that stupid costume the other night? Was a little embarrassment so horrible that you had to try to murder your own brother and kill your cousin in the process?” Anne started crying before she finished, the last sentence coming out between sobs.

Nicky sat up and said, “I didn’t. I didn’t do anything. What are you talking about? Is Richard…”

“He’s alive, but his back is broken. The physician says he may never walk again and might even die. I’ve known for years, you know, about your magic. You weren’t so careful when you were little. I always thought it was harmless, but now I know better, don’t I?”

Nicky shook his head. Anne thought he tried to kill Richard with magic and accidently murdered his cousin in the process? What he had seen, well, maybe magic was the right answer. Nothing else made any sense. But he didn’t do it, and he had to convince her of that. He got off the bed and stood in front of her.

“Anne, Annie, please you have to believe me. Bertie was my friend, and I love Richard. I would never, never hurt either of them.”

“I heard you threaten Richard. You said you would ‘get’ him, and now you have!” Anne’s sobs had turned to anger.

“I tried to trip him, that’s all. I just wanted to make him look foolish like he did to me. I didn’t want to kill him, or even hurt him. This morning I wasn’t even mad at him anymore. I love Richard, Annie. He is the closest thing I have to a father. Please.”

Anne just shook her head, both anger and doubt in her eyes. “I want to believe you, Nicky, but I know what I saw.”

“I’m not the only one who can use magic. Someone else did this, someone who wanted to weaken Warwick rule, weaken Anglia.”

“You want me to believe that the palace is full of witches?”

“No, but there were foreigners there, other countries don’t necessarily have laws against magic as strict as ours, and one of them could have done it. And maybe Ulle can use magic, was he there? I don’t remember.”

“I don’t know, he was in the hunt, but I don’t think he was anywhere nearby when we went over the hedge. Why do you think he can use magic?”

“He may have used it to try to get me to pick Montexter’s daughter for my wife, but it could have been someone else. You believe that it wasn’t me, don’t you?”

Anne shook her head. “I want to believe you. I want to believe you couldn’t do such a thing, but I’m not sure. Maybe you thought you were just going to make him fall to make him look foolish or something. Maybe it was an accident. You didn’t realize how serious the consequences would be. Is that it, Nicky? Were you just trying to play a trick on your brother, and it turned out wrong?”

“No! I had nothing to do with it. Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because you’re the only one I know who can use magic. You can point the finger at someone else, but you’re the only witch in Anglia as far as I can tell.”

“Are you going to turn me in? They’ll burn me alive,” Nicky said in an anguished, frightened voice.

“No, I can’t. I can’t believe you attacked Richard and killed your cousin on purpose. I have to believe it was an accident. But, Nicky, if I ever see you use magic again for anything, I will turn you in. Do you understand?” She looked him in the eye, and he knew she meant it.

Nick swallowed and nodded. Anne went to the door but stopped and said, “Please don’t make me turn you in, Nicky. I’ve already lost one family member, I’m not sure I could stand to lose you too. But I won’t let you turn into some kind of evil sorcerer either.”

After she left, Nick sat down heavily on the bed and put his head in his hands. Bertie was gone, Richard was crippled and could die too, and now, in a way, he’d lost Anne. She must think he was an idiot to do that to someone’s horse as a prank, and she would never trust him again. She didn’t want to lose two people she loved in one day, but he had just lost his cousin, his sister, and maybe his brother, very nearly his mother and father, in a matter of hours.

He undressed and got into bed. He couldn’t face anyone right now. He just lay there watching the light fade. Eventually Winkershime knocked on his door and asked if he wanted dinner, and he roused enough to reply in the negative. Then he slept.