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BY the time we’d nearly arrived at the palace, King Ricardo was so beside himself with excitement that he didn’t seem the slightest bit tired by his journey. It was also abundantly clear he didn’t care at all for Father and was purely anticipating seeing Mother. The more I thought about the foreign king’s obsession with my mother, the more uncomfortable I felt about the whole situation.
Upon our arrival, the steward requested that we wait a half-hour. While the facilities to host a foreign king were available, he was apprehensive that our hospitality was not yet perfect. The look in his eyes as he requested the great king to wait was distant and fatalistic. On top of that, it was nearly evening, so I left with Elizabeth to see her home. We were, in effect, leaving King Ricardo to wait alone. The steward seemed so appalled by this turn of events that he was on the verge of passing out.
King Ricardo thumped the steward heartily on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, my man! I was the one who barged in unannounced.”
From their interaction, I gathered there was a clause or two on the indemnity contract that made it clear King Ricardo could not complain about being made to wait. After giving the steward an encouraging nod, Elizabeth and I left the palace.
The la Montlivere mansion was only a short distance away, such that we could comfortably fill the time with small talk without it seeming strained or awkward. Today, however, I was in no mood for such pleasantries, and Elizabeth seemed to notice as we rode in silence, her eyes fixed out the window. I likewise looked out the opposite window. The bustle of the distant streets failed to reach the palace road, and we encountered no other carriages as we rode. It was a much-appreciated gift of peace from Elizabeth.
As we dismounted the carriage, she turned to me. “Please call me if anything else happens. I shall be there as soon as I’m able.”
She gestured to the basket, which still contained Lars, as she said so. He was both her familiar and her protector, which was precisely what enabled her to leave on such short notice earlier. She trusted the pest a great deal, I gathered.
“Thank you.”
I was not keen to call on her, however. It would be wrong of me to trouble her, let alone King Ricardo’s “testing” of my fitness for the throne and the fact that this was a royal problem through and through.
“Please, don’t worry about me,” I told her as confidently as I could with my specially practiced princely smile.
In response, Elizabeth smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes.
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AS soon as I returned from the duke’s mansion, I was summoned to the parlor. Upon my arrival, I found King Ricardo seated in the room’s center, dressed in his fine red coat with the same giddy look of anticipation as when I left nearly half an hour ago.
Did he even blink while I was gone?
On the far side of the parlor was the door to Father’s private chambers, and it slowly eased open as I entered. Through it, I could see my parents—no, Mother was standing facing me, the usual predatory glint back in her eyes. Father was nestled in her arms like a baby, with Plum perched on top of him.
“…What?!”
I hurriedly clamped my hands over my mouth. I didn’t know what to make of the sight and glanced at Harold, hoping for some aid. His eyes were fixed on the wall as though refusing outright to acknowledge what he was seeing, as was the steward. Mother was staring directly at me, but instead of glaring as she normally would at such a reaction, she seemed to understand the peculiarity of her appearance.
“My apologies for the lack of hospitality,” Mother told King Ricardo coolly. “I had my hands full with my poor husband’s sudden illness, but you wouldn’t listen to reason and came anyway.”
In simpler terms, she was annoyed at his visit. She didn’t spare him so much as a glance as she strode inside and set Father to rest in one of the plush armchairs. Plum, from its perch on Father’s stomach, began to retch as if to vomit.
Notably, my parents were clad in a matching blue jacket and dress with near-identical wave patterns in the fabric. They even had matching cut gemstones on her necklace and his cufflinks, accentuating that they were very much a united front against the foreign red-clad king. I had no words.
No wonder they sent Elizabeth home… They didn’t want her to see this.
“Mariabel is correct.” Father nodded weakly. “We scarcely had time to dress Ourselves adequately.”
I doubt that’s the issue at hand here, Father. Is this really how they want to proceed?
He nonetheless appeared intimidating from his manner of dress alone.
“You showed great insolence in coming here, Ricardo. It seems you’ve made something approaching a proper king of yourself.”
Er, Father? You mean “initiative,” not “insolence,” don’t you? Try not to wear your heart on your sleeve like that.
I couldn’t recall what Father was like during King Ricardo’s visits when I was a child, though I doubted the memories were sealed from me like the others. Perhaps the foreign king had even timed his visits to avoid meeting Father. His gaze was sharp even through his weakness, but after hearing their history, it seemed more like showboating than his usual kingly mien.
I turned to see King Ricardo’s reaction, but there was no need.
“Oh, sweet Mariabel!”
His deep voice seemed nearly shrill, attesting to his excitement. I saw only a red flash as he dashed for Mother, ignoring my father’s insults. What happened next took only a scant few seconds.
“What a pleasure it is to see you again! Ah, you’re every bit as beautiful as the first time I—”
Before he could wrap his arm around her waist and kiss her, however, she vanished.
“Have I not made myself clear?” came Mother’s frigid voice. “This is Urhalla. Such greetings are highly improper here.”
She was a few steps out of his reach, arms folded imperiously. A wave of her hand left an odd trail of sparks in the air, and in the same beat, a monstrous gale struck King Ricardo square in the chest and sent him crashing heavily into the wall.
Wait… Mother can cast incantationless magic? Since when?!
The King of Nieve groggily picked himself up off the ground, his cheeks flushed bright red. “Mm-mm-mm… Delightfully strong, as always.”
He seemed unharmed—his muscles were more than just for show, it seemed.
Mother could stand to hold back a little…
“King Ricardo!” Father’s voice rang, his feet stomping on the floor in irritation. Plum bounced and moaned on his lap. “How many times must We tell you that Mariabel is Our wife?! We’ve been married twenty years now—twenty years! It’s high time you cease your miserable cloying for her affections!”
King Ricardo stuck out his tongue. “I’ve loved her for twenty-four years, and I’ve already begun to plan our quarter-century anniversary! I met her first, so stop bringing up your pathetic ‘marriage’ like it means something! You don’t know the first thing about her heroism in Nieve!”
Mother bit her lip hard from where she stood between the pair, hissing. “Enough. There’s no need to dredge up ancient history.”
Their exchange reminded me of a certain blue-haired young man I knew and his own dubious romantic endeavors.
To think I’d live to see your match, Leohardt…
I couldn’t pretend to be interested in the exchange.
Finally, King Ricardo noticed the bundle of purple fur in Father’s arms. “Wait… Are you the monster that tried to kill me all those years ago? My, how you’ve shrunk!”
Is that really how you should greet the creature that almost killed you?
Plum glanced at the foreign king and turned away, its lips sealed tight in resolute silence.