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THE royal capital was known for its temperate climate and middling humidity, but this year, it was markedly hotter than the last, and many passersby wore lighter and looser clothes to escape the heat.
I had not been on a stroll through the town proper since my last date with Elizabeth, and not only was it early spring then, but nobody was aware I was royalty. This time, however, King Ricardo had requested we pose as sociable lower nobility, mingling amongst the populace without armed guards buffering us from the common folk. It was a tall order, to be sure.
We utilized House Abarakoff’s heirloom techniques for our disguises. I had my hair dyed a darker hue, was forbidden from managing my unruly bedhead, and was given a rough burlap shirt to wear. Apparently, at that point, I only needed to hold Elizabeth’s hand to remove any royal poise I’d accumulated.
Elizabeth was given thick glasses to hide the color of her eyes and covered her hair with a muslin hat, after which she only needed a simple, undyed dress to complete the look. As that charming elegance of hers was too difficult to hide, she would be posing as a noble’s daughter with us men as her bodyguards. It was a fitting guise to its core.
King Ricardo needed only remove his opulent coat and ornamentation, and his guise as a bruiser in his lady’s service was complete. It was an odd feeling, as he was the highest-ranking of us all, but he was so naturally intimidating I couldn’t argue. Harold was very firm and asserted that “a unibrow is all you need to make you lose any majesty,” giving the impression that he was upset at the king’s many unreasonable requests. King Ricardo was seriously considering it as well and would have incorporated that into his disguise if I hadn’t intervened. His contract wasn’t perfect, after all, and I wanted to avoid diplomatic issues that arose from giving a foreign ruler an unflattering unibrow.
In the end, our band of an heiress and two bodyguards was a bit of an odd one. Harold was positive we would not be discovered as royalty, but I was far less sure. Harold would be with us as well, with Lars tucked away in a picnic basket in his arms. Should the need arise, he was told to meow loudly to allay suspicion.
“Just relax!” the Nievan king assured us. “Urhalla’s a hundred times safer than my country, I promise.”
He moved to push ahead through the crowd, but grunted and was held back by the rope tied about his waist. The other side of the leash was wrapped firmly around Harold’s arm.
“Lord Ricky, you would do well to remember to protect milady.”
“Oh, right… Sorry.” He obediently returned to the rest of our little group.
I looked at Harold, eyes wide with surprise and horror alike. “H-How can you…?!”
“I consulted His and Her Majesty last night,” my manservant replied flatly. “They encouraged such treatment of him.”
That would mean this whole outing was under House Abarakoff’s official jurisdiction. For the first time, I noticed the heavy bags under Harold’s eyes, and I was likewise sleep-deprived from all the information I tried to cram about the town.
I’ll try to keep the burden on him as light as I can.
Harold turned back to King Ricardo. “I realize you are strong enough to handle yourself, but I must insist you stay with the group.”
“I can do that,” he nodded readily.
That would be for the best since if he were to leave us, our protection would be divided. Contract or not, that was unacceptable.
But isn’t Harold being a little too rough with him? He’s still talking to Nievan royalty.
It was then that I noticed the odd vacancy behind Harold’s eyes. He likely hadn’t slept last night, and the stress was rapidly getting to the poor man.
Our odd group walked up the main street. Harold was at the front with Lars’ basket in his arms. I followed, leading Elizabeth by the hand, and King Ricardo took up the rear of our formation. The finely maintained noble gardens grew sparse as we went, and large stores took their places amongst them, until we finally found ourselves upon a market proper. Storefronts burgeoned with fruits and meats on display, and eventually, we found ourselves among street food vendors and hawkers. The road grew in vigor with each step we took.
“Ohh, yes! This is it! Over here!”
We turned to find King Ricardo waving us over to a stall on the roadside, notably still close enough to the group to obey the letter of Harold’s command, if not the spirit. The stall seemed to be an extension of the kitchen behind it, with a serving counter facing the masses. It was no place any noble, let alone royalty, should be eating.
I suppose he is a king, though… I doubt he has much freedom to do as he pleases back in Nieve.
My expectations were thoroughly betrayed when the middle-aged woman at the counter looked up from the meat she was grilling, and at the sight of King Ricardo, her face split into a broad grin.
“Well, if it isn’t Ricky! You’ve sure grown up smartly!”
My jaw dropped.
“You’re looking fine yourself!” he returned amicably.
“Oh, honestly, you’re such a flatterer!”
She laughed and gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder. Her toothy grin was as white as the bandanna tying back her hair, and it was clear she meant him no harm, but I couldn’t keep myself from gasping.
“I’m working for a noble now,” he boasted, jerking his head back at Elizabeth.
“So you finally got a job, then.” She sighed, relief on her face. “My hubby and I were getting pretty worried, y’know.”
King Ricardo would often go missing during his visits to the palace in the past, but I never thought he was out making a name for himself in town.
I take back everything I thought about him before. Nobody can control this man, hence why Mother resorted to a physical barrier to keep him out. I can only imagine the stress his poor aides must be under…
“I’ve been dying to have your meat again,” King Ricardo said, drooling at her grill. “I’ll take one.”
Before King Ricardo could finish rooting the change out of his pocket, the lady shook her head firmly at him. “Tell you what, it’s on the house to celebrate your new job.” She pulled the meat she was cooking off the grill and wrapped it in something breaded, similar to a crepe. The smell of the thick slab of charred meat mingled with the sweet-and-spicy sauce, filling the air in a heartbeat. She peered around him to look at Elizabeth and me. “Want to try, miss? My name’s Amelia, and I run this here eatery.”
Harold dipped his head to her as he accepted three more portions, handing two of them to Elizabeth and me. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.”
Because of our status, we had both been taught never to accept food from strangers, much less to eat it, but this was an exceptional case. Besides, the king was already several bites into his meal.
“Ahh, that’s the good stuff!” he exclaimed, wiping the dribbling sauce from his chin.
Elizabeth and I looked to Harold, who eyed the kitchen carefully and took a bite of his own steaming steak.
“This is quite good,” he said levelly.
Amelia puffed her chest out with pride. “Isn’t it?”
Harold’s compliment signaled that it was safe to eat. Our meals were charcoal grilled in the same way that King Ricardo’s was and used the same sweet sauce. King Ricardo and Amelia seemed to have known each other for several years, and neither of our companions had reported anything amiss. Having passed the peer test, the preparation test, and the poison test, we were fit to eat at our leisure. It was a pain to go through, but such was the fate of royalty. King Ricardo was frankly reckless beyond belief.
I took a bite of my bread-wrapped meat. The crepe was made from some manner of white flour and had a faint sweetness to it, which complemented the sauce’s deep scent and flavors well.
“What do you think, milady?” I asked Elizabeth as politely as I could muster.
“It tastes great,” Elizabeth replied with a thumbs-up and a wink. There was a wooden quality to her speech as she tried to lose her noble accent, but not only did she do a decent job of it, she was adorable as she did so. I couldn’t even muster the will to wipe the sauce from my lips.