“So you’re not marrying Prince Louis, Maria?”
“Of course not.”
Wow. Shot down immediately. Poor Prince Louis.
“He’s cute, he’s rich, he’s devoted. He ticks all the boxes, right?”
“Our age difference is too great.”
I’d figured that was the problem.
Maria, like me, was seventeen. Prince Louis was thirteen. A four-year age gap might not seem like much in the grand scheme of things, but he was thirteen. That would’ve been criminal. I wouldn’t have been able to date a boy that age either. If Lord Clarke had been that age I’d have run away to a neighboring country in a flash.
“If I were to accept His Highness Prince Louis’s proposal now, what would people think of me? I’d be the witch who corrupted a young, innocent boy.”
Well, she had a point. Thirteen was still clearly a child. If a young adult woman married a child...that would be what people would think. I agreed.
“Why did Prince Louis propose to you?” I asked.
“I don’t know either,” she explained. “I was only around him for about three months. My family fell into ruin shortly after we met.”
Something had to have happened during those three months. I wanted to ask, but I was scared to. What if it led to another endless story?
Still, I asked anyway, and she had no idea. What a mystery.
“If Prince Louis were eighteen and you were twenty-two, it would be more balanced, I think,” I said.
“It would. But twenty-two is past marriageable age...” Maria gazed into the distance. She must’ve had a hunch that she wouldn’t marry in her prime. After all, Prince Louis was doing everything in his power to disrupt her marriage prospects and make sure she wouldn’t meet any other men.
The age factor was probably the reason Prince Louis had plotted to kidnap Maria. Seventeen was indeed the ideal age for marriage.
“I don’t know what to do,” Maria said, seeming truly troubled.
“Poor you,” I offered sympathetically.
“Your Highness...”
“Do you finally understand what I went through?”
“You’re not consoling me at all!” she snapped in frustration, though she still diligently served me tea. How professional!
It was so wonderful to leisurely fish and drink tea in the courtyard. I basked in the warm sunlight as Maria glared at me with what looked like annoyance in her eyes.
“He gave me a negligee,” she said.
“That wasn’t my fault,” I replied.
“It was definitely your fault, Your Highness.”
“What that dumb prince does or doesn’t do isn’t my business.”
“You’re the one who taught him about the existence of negligees, right?”
“I did not teach him anything. I wrapped one around his face.”
“That’s the same thing!”
“I would like you to take one off and wrap it around my face,” Prince Louis said to my handmaiden.
“Where on earth did you come from?!” Maria shrieked at this sudden declaration, backing away.
Seemingly unperturbed, Prince Louis inched closer to her. “You look amazing today as well, Maria,” he said.
“Please stay away from me,” she replied.
“I love all of you, your cold side included.”
“I do not love you.”
“That’s all right. My love is enough.”
“You’re not listening!”
Maria took off running, but since she was working, she only ran around the courtyard. How professional!
The pretty little prince cheerfully chased after Maria. With how cute he was, it made for quite the idyllic sight, I thought as I sipped my tea.
A sigh came from behind me. “I want to go home...”
I turned to look, and there stood Lyle.
“You seem wistful,” I said.
“How could I not be?” he replied. “Day after day I’m ordered to find Maria gifts, asked what women like, and told to handle correspondence with our home country, and to top it all off, I had to procure a negligee...”
Wow. So much work! The life of an attendant sounded tough. It was a good thing I was a noble lady.
Wasn’t Prince Louis here to study? Was it really okay for him to spend his days chasing after Maria? It was fine, right? It had to be.
“Here. Take one,” I said, taking a cookie from the platter and offering it to Lyle. “It’ll lift your spirits.”
“Thank you,” Lyle murmured, bringing the cookie to his lips. He took one bite, then immediately spat it out, coughing and sputtering.
“I made these to prank Lord Clarke,” I told him. “What do you think?”
“What do I think?!” he snapped. “I think you shouldn’t be using people as test subjects, is what I think!”
“I mean the ultra spicy cookies. What are your thoughts?”
“They’re way too spicy! They’re disgusting! The worst thing I’ve ever eaten!”
“Yes! They’re perfect, then!”
“Why is everyone horrible to me?!”
I thought I heard Lyle yelling something, but I was preoccupied with other concerns, such as how to get a certain someone to consume my creations.
Then a shadow loomed over me.
“Lettie,” Lord Clarke said, in the voice he normally used when something was wrong.
Slowly, I lifted my head to meet his gaze. “L-Lord Clarke! G-Good day to you!”
“Nothing’s good about it,” he replied.
I knew it. He was mad. But why?
“Lettie,” he repeated.
“Yes?!”
“Didn’t I tell you not to have tea parties with other men?”
Oh! That.
Lyle, beet red from the ultra spicy cookie, seemed to be in a bit of a panic.
“I mean, you know, he just showed up in the middle of it—”
“Lettie,” he said, interrupting my attempt at an excuse, his tone gentle. Gentle, I tell you. Gentle! “Come here, would you?”
“Okay...” I said, unable to do anything but comply.
As he led me away, I saw Lyle looking at me, vindicated. Jerk!
Just you wait. I’ll feed you an extra sour cookie next time!