Prince Nicholas

"You see, Your Royal Highness," Carl was telling me, "the most effective way to disarm your opponent is to – Your Royal Highness? What is the matter?" He stopped, glancing at my expression.

A sudden sense of foreboding overcame me all of a sudden, as chills ran down my spine in an endless flow. It rid my mind of all thoughts, until all I could concentrate on was that strange sensation.

"Nothing," I shook my head, bewildered, "I merely feel as if...something bad is going to happen soon."

He nodded, understanding. "They call it the sixth sense, Your Royal Highness," he explained, "but it could be plain nerves as well." He shot me a smile.

"Mayhap," I was still puzzled. Nerves for what, I wondered.

"Well, worry about it no more, Your Royal Highness," he assured me, "because we have arrived at the dining hall."

He gestured grandly to the dining hall before us, where the Ladies of Cavarriere, the Duke and Duchess were already taking their places at the table.

Once again, I felt as if something was gravely amiss.

"Come, Sire, let us go," Carl beckoned me forward, as he eagerly took a seat next to Lady Annabelle, who was recovering very well from the illness that had bedridden her a few days ago.

She shot me a kind smile, which I returned briefly, and I looked around the rest of the room, as the strange feeling still persisted in the very pit of my stomach. It was then that I realised.

Julie was not here. Again.

And neither were her Captains.

"Lord Cavarriere, where are the Captains?" I questioned curiously, as I sat down beside him.

"Why, they dined early, before the rest of us," he grinned, as the first dish of dinner was served, "they were especially hungry tonight, and my wife did not like to keep them waiting until our usual dinner time, looking at their tired faces."

I returned his smile but said nothing. In Tessensohn, the Captains used to dine earlier than the usual time, so that they could avoid the Tessensohn family.

Why, Captain Morrison had even confided in me once that this was their way of avoiding anyone whom they did not want to meet at the dinner table, be it their strict superiors or someone they did not like.

My forehead creased in worry. Who were they avoiding today?

"And how about Julie?" I found that I was anxious to hear the answer.

Lord Cavarriere paused, pondering. "I am afraid I do not know, son," he admitted, "I will ask my daughter and her friends."

With that, he raised his voice to address those at the table. "Ladies, do any of you know where Jules is? Has she had her dinner beforehand?"

The light-hearted chatter at the table ceased, as the Ladies of Cavarriere exchanged mystified looks. One Lady in particular, however, remained suspiciously reserved.

And that was Lady Camille.

"Nay, Your Grace, she has yet to dine," Lady Marguerite frowned, "why, she was pacing outside her study, holding a strange sack merely an hour ago."

However, I was staring straight at Lady Camille, who was shifting uneasily in her seat. "You know something, my Lady," I narrowed my eyes at her.

All of a sudden, ten pairs of worried eyes were directed to her, but she kept her mouth firmly shut.

"Where is she, my Lady?" I demanded again, "answer me!"

Knots of fear and worry were twisting themselves tightly in my stomach and added to the chills that were already running down my spine.

What in the world was the matter?

Lady Camille's expression became void of all emotions. "She left Cavarriere with all speed an hour ago."

***

The Lady Knight

I had been on horseback for almost two days now, and I was already weary of my saddle. Even the frequent rests by the frozen River Susan once every three hours did nothing to alleviate the exhaustion and the insistent pain in my back from sitting upright for so long at a stretch.

My muscles were stiff, and my extremities felt as if they had frozen over from the small bath I had taken in the River Susan by the time I cantered into the sleepy earldom of Warwick, Anchorvale.

Added to that was the insistent, gaping sensation in my mind as if I were forgetting something. I had checked all my sacks many times throughout these two days to make sure that I had brought along all my belongings with me, but yet, the strange sensation persisted.

Only yesterday night did it occur to me that I might be feeling lonely without Nick and the rest of the Captains. I suspected that I had become so used to their constant presence around me for the last three weeks that it felt uncomfortable to travel alone now, without the usual, incessant chatter and bickering.

Sighing, I glanced at my timepiece briefly. It was exactly ten in the morning, and the ever-magnificent Sun was just reaching the top of our heads.

Dismounting, I took Aurora's reins and proceeded to lead her towards the market, my feet knowing their way about the familiar surroundings.

I had a plan, one that had a good chance of failing, but I still had to take this first step anyway. As Lieutenant Raleigh had once written to me, time was of the essence, and the sooner I found Richard and fled, the better. Neither my life nor Richard's was safe until then.

But I had to find someone to help me, and I knew for a fact that a good friend of mine always visited the market every Tuesday morning like this one.

Life was going on as usual for the rest of the Warwick folks in the morning. The aroma of fresh fruits and vegetables, infused with the stink of the marine produce, saturated the air, as did the screeching voices of the crowd present.

Wives were bargaining with the stall owners for cheaper prices, jostling each other to obtain the freshest vegetables and fruits as they clutched onto their baskets tightly.

The stall owners were trying in vain to suppress these crowds of womenfolk who, for all their meekness and subservient nature in front of their husbands and fathers, were quite the menace when it came to purchasing items from the market.

Children were running about all over the place, playing tag and other games while their mothers argued, their laughter and happiness seeming almost out of place at the present, but rather comforting at the same time.

When I was younger, Mama used to bring me to the market in Bordeux with her every Sunday. On the way, she would ask after my welfare. It was during this time that I used to air my views freely on how much Max grated on my nerves every day, or how Anna and Sophie kept pulling silly pranks on me on an almost regular basis, and so on.

She would congratulate me, laugh at me, and offer me gentle advice on anything and everything I needed.

At that point in time, her days and nights were mostly occupied in taking care of the household and helping my father as Duchess Consort of Bordeux, but on that particular day of the week, she was my Mama and no one else.

Even today, when she was no more, our market time together was something I still sorely grieved over whenever I missed Mama. Seeing these children and their Mamas in the market always brought back such good memories.

Shaking my head clear of the nostalgia, I tied Aurora tightly to a tree outside the market and took my sacks, before I strode into the humid, stifling place.

Tiptoeing as much as my tiny, frozen toes would allow me to, I weaved through the crowds of women, searching high and low for a certain green-eyed brunette.

One hour later, I had to stop and sit down next to Aurora. I did not have the energy to carry on anymore. My stomach was ceaselessly growling for breakfast, and my legs were screaming for rest. I put my head in my hands, tired and frustrated.

At times, I really wished I was not a human. Such mundane needs that my body was stubbornly insisting on now were truly hindering my progress in the mission.

"Jules?" a surprised voice spoke up just then, "what in the world are you doing in Warwick?"

My head snapped up to glance into the goblin green eyes of none other than my target, for whom I had been searching all this while.

Evangeline Hale.

***

Prince Nicholas

"Would any of you care to explain where Julie has gone?" I crossed my arms, incensed, as I glared at the six Captains before me.

All six of them had found extremely creative ways to keep away from me beyond the radii of talking distance for the last one day, and still hover around in the background to keep guard.

However, I had finally managed outsmart them at their game this morning and cornered the whole lot of them in my study after breakfast.

The time for hide and seek was over.

"Well?" I barked.

It was Captain Dupont who dared to open his mouth. "None of us know why or where Ma'am has gone," he reported, staring straight at me, "she merely said that she had to go on an urgent mission due to recent developments in the murder cases of the Derelia brothers, and that she would not return until next week, when we are in Vareniol."

I froze in shock.

Lucien. She had found what she could not that night I had carried her to bed. She had found something about the murderer who had killed Lucien.

I stared at the solemn men before me, unable to believe my ears. If she had found something, then why did she not tell me anything about it?

Lucien was my best friend. Did I not have the right to know? Did I not have the right to accompany her on this mission?

Moreover, what if the murderer was a psychopath? What if Julie was in danger? What if that murderer killed her, and no one knew about it?

I had seen Lucien the day he was killed. The murderer had even written on the dungeon walls with the blood that he had drawn from him by slashing and stabbing him.

He was definitely a psychopath. I had no doubts about that.

How could Julie be so reckless as to charge off on her own without telling anyone about her whereabouts? There was no guarantee to her security!

"And you allowed her to leave alone like that?" I raged, incredulous, "Captain Dupont, contrary to what you seem to believe, she is still a young woman, only two and twenty years of age! You would allow her to go alone at night, where thieves and rogues could be lying in wait for her in every corner and she would not even know! At this rate, she would die even before she starts her mission."

Horrible images flashed unbidden through my mind at that moment, but I fiercely pushed them away, scowling hard at the men before me.

Captain Everard lost his temper just then. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, Sire," he argued, "this young woman you speak of is not your average simpering Lady of the Society. She happens to be an excellent Commander General and an even more dynamic Lady Knight. She is well capable of defending herself, and all of us have faith in her abilities. She will be all right, and she will be safe, and she will return victorious. You will see."

Captain Dupont placed a hand on Captain Everard's shoulder. "Peace, Captain Everard," he cautioned, "this is not easy for any of us, least of all for His Royal Highness. Do not accuse him of things he never said in the first place. At least she told us before she went. The poor lad had to hear it from someone else. He is merely concerned, as we all are."

His soothing voice calmed my raging mind a little, and I slumped against the wall, absolutely exhausted. I did not know where this intense, burning concern for Julie's well-being had come from, but it had roasted my mind to ashes for the last two days.

"Your Royal Highness," Captain Dupont approached me, patting my shoulder awkwardly, "we are very sorry for keeping this from you."

"Why?" I sighed.

He smiled sadly. "We were afraid, as she was, that you would charge after her on the mission if we had told you. And our duty is to keep you safe. If you had gone after her, then you definitely would not be."

The protest was on my lips at once. "I would not have gone after her –" I stopped, unable to continue.

Captain Dupont smiled at me again, as if he knew exactly why I had paused.

I would have gone after her, at once, if I had been aware about this mission sooner, and I knew it.

"If she sends us word, we will let you know, Your Royal Highness," Captain Everard spoke up grudgingly just then, "but in the meanwhile, you should pack. We are leaving for Vareniol in half an hour. Come, Captains, let us complete our own packing. Your Royal Highness." He bowed, and excused himself, and the rest of the Captains did the same.

I was too lost in my thoughts to notice them leave.

I knew not what to think anymore. Up until before the Potential Quest, neither had I bothered, nor had I wanted to bother myself with Julie. I had not cared whether she was safe or well as long as she was out of my sight and mind.

In these few weeks, however, especially since she had gone on this mission, I could not help but worry over her with an intensity bordering on insanity. Every time I closed my eyes these two days, all I could think of was the fragile, peaceful image of her face when she was asleep, and that burning urge to protect her would return.

Running a hand through my hair in frustration, I looked outside the window.

Truly, I was beyond terrified for the golden-blonde, hazelnut brown eyed Knight who had ventured off on her own into unknown territory, and I knew I would not rest assured until she returned safe and sound.

***

The Lady Knight

"It is wonderful to see you again, Jules!" Evie set down her basket and squeezed the living daylights out of me, "oh, it has been such a long time. I hear about you from Evoric from time to time, but it is much better seeing you in person."

This was Evoric's energetic younger sister, Evie. As an eighteen-year-old who would rather live an exciting life at Court rather than rot away in the countryside, she was the perfect person to aid me in my mission.

"It is good to see you too," I smiled genuinely at her.

She pulled back, laughing. "You possess that tone and that face," she shook her head ruefully, "you are going to assign me a task, are you not?"

My jaw dropped. Was I truly that obvious?

"Only to those who know you best," she sang, as if she had read my mind.

"All right, but it is more of a request rather than a task," I conceded, "I am going to be doing all the work, but I need your help to start in the first place. And I would appreciate it if you did not ask me any questions."

Her forehead creased for a moment, before it cleared. "Always the lady of mystery, are you not, Jules? All right, Ma'am," she grinned, placing her hands on her hips, "what do you need me to do?"

I took a deep breath. "I need you to find me a way to sneak into your house and allow me to search it without being recognised by your family."

***

"I look ridiculous."

Despite her initial reluctance, Evie was true to her word. After a small, late breakfast and half an hour, my hair was braided neatly, and a black veil - similar to those that a few of the older married women in Monrique wore - was attached by several pins to my head, with a heavy black and white gown in tow.

"This is the uniform of your maidservants?" I looked down at myself, incredulous.

Evie surveyed me, looking proud of herself. "Even without that veil, you would be unrecognisable, Jules," she beamed, "why, you look like a Lady of the Society, and an elegant one too! You should consider wearing a gown like this more often."

"Of course not," I grumbled, "this gown is heavy enough, thank you. How do you people move around in these – "

"Enough, my Lady. We are wasting daylight," she cut me off, amused, "ready to do my bidding?"

"As ready as I will ever be, I suppose," I muttered wryly, following her into the kitchens through the back door.

Now that I was aware that Richard was somewhere in this Manor, I could not help but be excited. I silently promised myself to do whatever it took to break him out of his ten-year captivity.

Evie strode into the steaming, hot stuffy kitchens, and I hurried two steps behind her, holding her basket of groceries and vegetables that she had bought in the market.

I kept my head bowed, but I could feel the curious stares of the staff present on me, as the welcoming aroma of luncheon saturated the atmosphere.

"Isobel, give that basket to Fannie. She will know what to do with it," Evie commanded me, adopting a lofty attitude.

For all intents and purposes, I was Isobel now.

Before she had even finished her command, I found the basket gently tugged out of my hands by a kindly woman, who set about arranging the vegetables on the shelves across the room.

"Isobel! Cease staring at Fannie. It is rude," Evie screeched in my ears, "now, fetch me a glass of lemonade. I do find myself quite parched after my trip down to the market."

If it were not for the fact that she was helping me sneak into the house, I would have punched her face there and then for speaking to me in such a manner.

I nodded at her meekly, and almost at once, I was surrounded by some of the Manor Staff. Despite the fact that we were strangers, they led me to their work stations and provided me with lemons and ice to make the drink, whispering instructions in my ears.

They truly were helpful, considering that I was new here.

But then again, Evie was quite famous for swiftly dismissing and employing her maidservants, not unlike how a person uses a towel. Thus, my entry into the house was hardly a surprise or a shock to most of them.

It was an advantage for me. At least I would not be under suspicion.

I handed her the drink and curtsied, and she beckoned me to follow her to her chambers. When we reached there, she rushed into the room and swiftly rummaged through her belongings.

"Is this how you treat your staff, Evie?" I remarked in disapproval, as I strode towards her, "they are trying their best to help you, and you – "

She did not look up. "If you are too nice, they will take advantage of you, Jules," she answered quietly, "I say this from experience."

I did not reply.

Presently, she held up an empty tray, and handed it to me. "God, I do not like this one bit," she pinched the bridge of her nose, looking deeply disturbed, "must you search through my home, Jules? Why will you not tell me what is the matter? Did Evoric do something wrong?"

"Nay, Evie, I am sorry. You know I cannot tell you," I sighed heavily, "so what is this tray for?" I gestured to it.

She looked down at the tray for a long while, before she sighed as well. "With this tray, you can search the Manor as freely as you wish," she whispered, "if anyone asks you what you are doing, say that you were going down to the kitchens to return this empty tray for me and got lost on the way."

"Thank you, Evie. I will leave the Manor in three hours, all right? I may not have time to meet you before I go, so I shall bid you farewell now," I shot her a quick, weak smile.

She returned my smile sadly. "All right, Jules," she winked, "I know you need an excuse to keep that uniform, in any case."

I simply rolled my eyes and hurried off with the tray. I decided to start my search from the dungeons, for most people kept secret things out of sight from the public in such dark areas.

Mayhap including humans.

And that was how my seven-hour prowl around the seven-floored Warwick Manor began.

***

Had there ever been a frustrating, hair-pulling, exhausting moment in your life when you had felt that nothing would go your way? Did you ever feel like punching the wall countless times, and yet knew that it would not do you any good?

That was how I felt at the moment.

Dressed in a gown half my weight, with a veil that almost covered my face, and I had to climb up and down the spiral staircase over and over again, all the while making sure that I had not left any chambers unchecked and keeping out of the way of the Hale family.

My muscles were begging for me to cease, and my head was spinning from climbing up the spiral staircase in circles so often. Added to that, my throat was yelling for water, and my stomach was growling for dinner.

And all this was for nothing. Richard was not hidden in any of the rooms that I had scoured.

I leaned against the stairway barrister, holding my head in my palms as I let out a defeated sigh. I knew that I should not give up so soon, but I could not help but feel bleak.

Where else could Richard be hidden? Had Lord Anthony moved Richard from the Manor to somewhere else in this one month, after he had heard about Lucien's death in the dungeons? Did he suspect that Lucien might have said something about Richard to me?

I wanted to scream my lungs out in frustration, break the tray I was holding into two pieces and pull at my hair until it hurt.

If only I had cracked the code sooner! Then I might have had a better chance at finding Richard.

At that moment, I heard soft footsteps approaching up the stairs, towards the landing where I was standing. On instinct, I swiftly flew up the stairs and watched from above who was coming.

A plump, motherly-looking matron, who was perspiring in this freezing weather, was carefully ascending up to the landing where I had been standing mere moments ago, holding a tray full of what seemed like dinner.

The aroma of the food wafted up my nose, making my stomach clench with need. Ignoring the pangs of hunger with difficulty, I watched the woman as she looked about her, her eyes nervously darting back and forth, left and right, as if she were making sure no one was around her or watching her. Her hands, which gripping the dinner tray with unnecessary force, were shaking uncontrollably.

My eyes narrowed. Her behaviour screamed suspicious.

In the meanwhile, she was creeping towards a chamber which was second to the right from where she had initially stood. Not trusting her intents, I took off my shoes and crept behind her at a safe distance, watching her and my surroundings all the while.

She reached into her pockets and drew out a ring of keys, one of which she used to open the door to the chamber cautiously, careful not to make a sound and entered it.

I tilted my head, confused. Why was she bringing a lunch tray in there? That was the library, with nothing but rows and rows of books. The last time I had checked that chamber, there had been no one inside.

However, now was not the time to dwell on that. This woman might well be attempting a burglary on Warwick Manor at the moment for all I knew. I had to track her movements closely and without losing focus.

With that, I followed her into the chamber, careful to remain within her shadow so that she did not notice me behind her. But the matron already seemed so tense that I was of the opinion that she was already afraid to look about her, in case she discovered something that could scare her.

When she turned to shut the door behind her and faced the bookshelves once more, I made sure to move with her with precision.

She set down the tray she was holding onto a nearby table, and strode purposefully towards one bookshelf in particular which stood apart from the rest of them in one corner of the very dusty chamber.

This particular bookshelf was also covered with a pale lilac cloth and seemed as if it had not been touched for years. She removed the lilac cloth in one, fluid motion and took a deep, staggering breath, before she lay her hands on the smooth wooden surface.

I watched with bated breath, as she moved the bookshelf aside with force. The bookshelf hardly resisted, as it gave way to reveal a dark grey stone wall that was quite different from the granite texture of the rest of the walls in the manor.

My eyes widened. Trap doors.

The woman picked up the tray once more and pushed open the discoloured portion of the wall, which swung open upon contact. I hurried to hide behind the bookshelf she had just moved away, as she entered the dark hollow within.

After quite some time, I faintly heard another door open on the other end. "My dear boy?" I heard her voice waver, "come now, have your dinner, son."

There was no answer.

"I shall come and get the tray when you have your breakfast tomorrow. Do you need anything else?"

Still, there was no answer. The other door closed once more.

The woman walked out after that, looking visibly and immensely ashen. I hurried to stand behind her again, as she shut the trap door and the bookshelf, putting the dusty lilac cloth over it once more.

When she turned to walk out of the room, however, I ducked behind a couch so that I could stay here and investigate that trap door. I remained there, with my heart pounding loudly in my chest, as I heard her lock the door from the outside.

Only when I heard her footsteps fade away did I realise something, and slapped a hand to my forehead softly.

She had locked the door from outside. How would I leave now?

Do not worry about that now, a voice murmured in my head, find the boy whom that woman has kept behind that bookshelf first.

Taking a deep breath, I strode towards the lilac cloth covered bookshelf and pulled the cloth aside. Placing my hands on the wooden surface, I pushed at the bookshelf as I had watched the woman do.

The woman had apparently been much stronger than I was. It refused to even budge an inch.

I huffed, annoyed. Cracking my knuckles, I slammed my body against the bookshelf and threw my whole weight onto it, pushing with every ounce of energy I had left in me from breakfast.

Slowly but surely, I felt the bookshelf give way to my efforts and swing aside, leaving the stone-grey wall in front of me.

Excitement, anticipation and curiosity vigorously bubbled up inside of me as I gently pushed open the trap door and stepped inside the darkness. I waited for my eyes to adjust, before I carefully walked the gravelly path that seemed almost endless.

"Damn!" I cursed, when I bumped straight against a wall of what felt like iron.

Rubbing my nose, I glanced up at the barrier, and could vaguely make out the shape of the door, in the dim daylight that came from the library that seemed so far away from where I was standing now.

Once more, I slammed my body against the door, but this door was apparently not as resistant as the other one, for it instantly opened, causing me to fall straight to the floor on the threshold.

"By the Lord!" a familiar deep voice hissed, "did I not tell you I would eat my dinner, Greta? What do you mean by disturbing me again and again thus? I swear, I – "

The voice stopped suddenly, and I assumed whoever had spoken had apparently noticed that I had fallen.

"Greta?" the voice was more uncertain now.

I pushed myself off the floor and rubbed the arm that I had fallen on, wincing, as I glanced around the room, surprised.

This small room was surprisingly well-lit, with lots of candles set all around it. Although it seemed slightly cramped and uncomfortable, it had a certain homely feel to it.

There was a tiny window, framed with thin, dark blue curtains by the side which allowed one a peek outside, and a single bed beside it. The bathing chamber was situated directly opposite it, as was another bookshelf filled with books with old and new bindings. Clothes were hung to dry on a thick rope above the bed, and the dinner tray that that woman had been carrying lay untouched on the bedside table.

On the bed sat a familiar looking young man, dressed in a faded white, full-sleeved shirt without a single crease tucked in a pair of breeches. His dark brown hair was slightly longer than usual, neatly combed to one side.

His grey eyes seemed faded and solemn, as if they had seen too much in this lifetime, and his strong, tapered jaws were set in a determined manner, as he held on tightly to a book in his hands.

The portrait he made was so, very similar to what I remembered of him in my childhood. Most of all, his similarity to Nick was so clear that I could only gasp.

He stood up now, every bit as towering as Nick was, and frowned down at me. "Are you all right?" he asked hesitantly, "that was quite a nasty fall you just had."

His voice had taken on a quieter tone, and much deeper than I had remembered.

I could only nod, drinking in every single one of his features. The annoying shock of brown hair he had always tried to tame into neatness. The perfectly arched eyebrows. The huge, tired grey eyes which were framed by thick, long lashes.

The painful scar that ran straight down his left eyebrow. The deeply hollowed cheeks that came with long term captivity. The strong jaws. His bony arms. His underfed appearance.

My eyes suddenly, and rather embarrassingly, filled with prickly hot tears. I swiftly slid a hand under my veil to hold a hanky to them before they could fall, annoyed with myself for becoming this emotional on a mission.

He had caught that movement. "You are not Greta," he stated, tilting his head, "who are you? Did Lord Warwick send you?"

My heart was pounding loudly against my chest. I continued to stare at him, half expecting him to disappear in front of my eyes as he had ten years ago. I needed to know that he was real, and not a ghost. I would not believe my eyes until I had proof.

Disregarding his question, I forced my legs forward closer to him. He watched me in silence, as I lifted my trembling hand to his exhausted looking face and held it against his cheek. I felt the warmth of life in them, the pulsing of the blood through the vessels in them, the soft skin.

He was real, and he was alive. I could not stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks.

"Oh, Richard," I choked out.