Extra 3: The Prince Dreams of a Kiss
AFTER nine long years of frustration, Elizabeth and I were finally, finally lovers.
We’re in love. Engaged. Oh, it sounds sweeter than I’d imagined. Nothing could be better. Nothing could more aptly show that we are genuinely in love.
We had gone on undercover dates before and even attended parties as a couple, and for a while, just being engaged was enough. But there was something else that we could only do now.
We had yet to kiss.
Ever since that fateful day, Elizabeth’s courage officially took us beyond merely future husband and wife, and I wanted nothing more than just that.
Step one: gather intelligence.
“Have you ever kissed before?” I asked Harold with the most serious look I could muster.
I knew he would brush me off for being foolish again, but he was the only one I could ask for help. I’d stumbled into my relationship with Elizabeth by sheer luck, and one innocent little question couldn’t hurt.
However, Harold turned beet red. That was the answer in and of itself. I had never even considered that he might answer me with such a serious yes.
“You… You’ve kissed someone, then?” I muttered, unable to process what was unfolding.
Harold furrowed his brow. “It was an accident, I assure—”
“You did kiss someone, then!”
“We were sparring, and my partner wanted to try out a new techn—”
“Oh. So you did kiss.”
“It was an accident.”
“But you did it, didn’t you?”
“Accidentally.”
Harold sighed and covered his face with a gloved hand. The tips of his ears were bright red, however.
But his sparring partner, eh? I know they’re engaged, but I wasn’t expecting something so lewd from the two of them. Did they happen to bump into each other? Or, wait, could that be the true identity of Lady Margaret’s ultimate attack? Are servants supposed to have better luck in love than their own masters?
As I mulled over the possibilities, I noticed he was silent. Finally, he let out another sigh.
“I’ll have to talk to Margaret about this,” was all he said.
“Please do.”
I nodded seriously, even though he was still covering his face. It was clear what he had to talk to her about.
I’ll need all the help I can get if I want to be more intimate with Elizabeth.
✦ ✦ ✦
💕 💕 💕
THE next week, an interesting rumor ran rampant through the Academy’s halls.
Apparently, first kisses tasted like strawberries.
It took the full power of House Abarakoff’s spymasters and House Falming’s order of elite women bodyguards, but with their combined efforts, the rumor spread like wildfire amongst the young ladies of the school. Tensions were at an all-time high.
“I heard it’s sweet but sour, and that you never forget it.”
“Oh? I heard it tasted like lemon.”
“I do hope it’s more like strawberries than lemons.”
A group of ladies discussed the rumors. They were pivotal in passing the gossip on to Elizabeth to tempt her sweet tooth. Nonetheless, they seemed to be enjoying themselves.
I just know Elizabeth will fall for it.
It was a roundabout strategy, granted, but with any luck, it would make Elizabeth think more about our relationship. It just might pay off.
Of course, I’ve captured quite a few imaginations around the school, some of which shouldn’t be stimulated any more than they already are.
Case in point: it was getting more difficult to ignore Raphael from where he was squirming and grinning in the seat beside mine.
“Oh, what a hopelessly romantic rumor!” he said with an elated sigh.
“What are you getting so hot and bothered over?” I snapped. “You’ve kissed a hundred girls before, haven’t you?”
“Of course, I haven’t. After all, any little kitten I kissed wouldn’t be able to forget me for as long as she lived, and I can’t have that.”
His answer raised more questions than it answered, but I didn’t need to know more.
“Besides,” he continued, “nobles can be quite prudish when it comes to things like this—you know, modesty, self-control, all that nonsense. Only a kiss with your fiancée might be acceptable, and that’s might, mind you.”
I glanced back at Harold to find him cradling his head in his hands. Being implicitly called a playboy by the most licentious man in school had to be giving him a monstrous headache.
What’s past is past, Harold. Put it behind you.
The real problem was me. I had yet to taste the forbidden fruit, and I craved it all the more now.