Elle watched as the prince immersed himself in work. She quietly poured another cup of tea and added cream to it before she unobtrusively stood and placed it by his plate—adding another cookie to it while she was standing.
Elle smiled in victory when some minutes later Severin mindlessly reached for the tea cup and drank from it. He set it down and continued with his work.
Elle quietly crunched on treats and drank her tea. Although Emele would probably be surprised to see Elle’s attempt to prod Severin from his self imposed exile, Elle was selecting a winning strategy rather than a conventional one. She never did anything by halves. She told Emele she would do her best, and she would. The best way to befriend His Illegitimate Highness Prince Severin, Elle decided based on his personality and her observations, was to be as inconspicuous as possible as she steadily invaded his life.
The prince wouldn’t notice her complete invasion until it had already passed.
Elle smiled like a pleased feline as she leaned back in her chair and watched Severin sip his tea.
“Brother, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Lucien greeted Severin at their next meeting.
“Your Highness,” Severin said bowing to his half brother.
“Father’s been a regular pain. He wants me to marry the Arcainia princess. I told him such an arrangement would be entirely unnecessary if we invaded the country and took it over. He disagreed. Violently,” Lucien complained as he draped himself in a chair.
“I find myself in the rare position of agreeing with His Majesty,” Severin said, unpacking a saddle pack.
“You would,” Lucien complained. “However, you don’t know the princess. Her seven brothers dote on her but she’s not even a real princess. The royal family adopted her. She’s a dreadful bore. I’m told she reads books, tours her lands, and is involved with Arcainia’s finance department.”
“Most would mark those as admirable traits in a monarch, Lucien,” Severin said, unrolling a map.
“But in a woman?” Lucien complained.
“If you only marry for beauty you are going to find yourself regretful in your old age,” Severin advised, growling when he opened the last of his saddle bags. He pulled out a long stemmed lily and glared at the orange blossom.
Lucien raised his eyebrows at the flower. “Is one of your servants trying to subtly let you know you need to bathe more?”
“Elle,” Severin growled.
“Ah, your injured guest,” Lucien recalled. “You haven’t kicked her out yet?”
Severin eyed the flower, able to pick out the flat spot where Elle had, no doubt, rubbed the petal between her fingers. “Duval claims she is too injured to move, although she is able to hobble around the chateau with crutches.”
“It’s a shame she’s not pretty. Can her looks be improved?”
“No. Her too big lips house a too big mouth that she opens all too much,” Severin grunted. “Although she no longer looks like a drown rat as she is not wearing cast off dresses from one of my female servants.”
“Fabulous,” Lucien dryly said, placing his feet on the edge of a dusty table.
Severin set the lily aside and uncorked an inkwell. “Have you established contact with Ranger Seventy Eight?”
“I have,” Lucien said, smiling at the manservant who poured him a glass of wine.
“And? What did he say?”
“There was an altercation, but it is under control. Seventy Eight is still on my mission and will not be available for some weeks. Ranger Ten returned from his long term assignment, though. I have his report right here,” Lucien said, setting his goblet down to reach into his royal blue waistcoat and pull out a handful of folded papers.
“Excellent,” Severin said, briefly reading the first few lines of the report. “He says the south borders are inactive.”
“As they should be,” Lucien said, finishing his wine.
Severin shook his head. “Our southern neighbors have more magic in their lands than the rest of our allies.”
“You distrust magic because of your situation?”
“No. I distrust magic because over the last few years it has become unstable,” Severin corrected. “Magic itself is nothing to fear. It is those who wield it that make me wary.”
Lucien shrugged. “I suppose it is that way with all things that are powerful. Do you have your supplies list?”
Severin wordlessly handed over several meticulously recorded sheets of paper. Lucien eagerly scanned them, but found nothing abnormal and handed them off to a servant. “The weather grows cold. We should relocate to a warmer location for our meetings during the winter months.”
“Or we will have the lodge stocked with firewood, as we have done in the previous years. Now, regarding Ranger Ten’s report.”
By the time Severin rode home after his meeting with his half brother, dusk painted the chateau with lavender blue shadows. There was a chill in the air—tonight would probably be the first frost of fall.
Severin dismounted his gelding—the only horse that didn’t turn wild with fear whenever he was near—and handed the animal off to Oliver to be groomed and cared for.
