The Lady Knight

"Nay, nay, that is incorrect, my Lady," Nick shook his head, taking care to sound polite, "it is a C sharp, not an F sharp."

Saying that, his fingers descended once more on the pianoforte and he demonstrated how that particular part of the piece should be truly played.

"I am hopeless," Estelle sighed with a comically woeful expression on her face, as she threw her hands up in the air in exasperation with herself, "this is what happens when I do not practise playing the pianoforte for almost two months. Even before that, I was unable to play as well as my mother."

"You do play well, extremely well, if I may say so, my Lady," he answered kindly, "you need a little more practice, that is all. I enjoyed playing that duet with you."

At his words, Estelle grew quite red in the cheeks, as she muttered a hardly audible 'thank you' and turned back to arranging her music sheets, suddenly very interested in counting them.

I chuckled quietly, amused. I was currently seated in a corner of the music chamber, peering over at the couple over the huge book I held open in my hands, observing them discreetly. They had completely forgotten my presence the moment Nick had begun to play one of his own compositions on the pianoforte.

Truth be told, I could not blame them. If I were in their places, I would have forgotten all else around me too. Till today, I had not known how beautifully he could play the pianoforte.

The instant his hands had begun to dance over the ivory keys, it was almost as if I was transported to another world. Sweet music wafted through the entire chamber, pulling me into a lovely trance I could not snap myself out of. On and on it flowed, like the waters of a calm river, filling my very soul with such unearthly joy that felt almost foreign. It was magical, unlike anything I had ever heard before.

It was unbelievable that he had composed that. All by himself.

When he had finished playing, it felt as if someone had doused me with ice-cold water, bringing me back to reality. So lost was I in that world that he had created in that beautiful song, that an earthquake could have occurred and I would not even have realised.

Estelle had, of course, demanded at once that he teach her how to play that piece, and Nick had complied quite willingly. She was finding it very difficult to cope, however, for she had skipped her pianoforte lessons for almost two months now, due to her more pressing duties as Duchess of Vareniol.

"That is quite all right. We shall practise more tomorrow," he beamed cheerfully, not noticing her red face, "I promised the Captains that I would practice archery in the training fields with them this afternoon. Would you please excuse me, my Lady?"

"But of course, Your Royal Highness," she nodded, smiling weakly, "I will see you at dinner."

He bowed low over her right hand and kissed the back of it, before he strode out of the room, having completely forgotten that I was in the chamber.

That was fine by me. I had wanted to observe them without their knowledge, and I had succeeded.

Estelle stared after his retreating figure, lost in her own thoughts. I cleared my throat slightly, trying to catch her attention. She jerked, startled, and her unseeing gaze snapped correctly towards where I was seated.

"Well, that was certainly entertaining," I teased, chuckling.

Her face grew bright red again. "Keep quiet, and stop teasing me," she mumbled, as she fingered the ivory keys behind her, "you have no idea. He plays so..." She was at a loss of words, and her eyes were huge with awe.

I nodded, understanding. Estelle was usually very difficult to impress; so critical was she over everything. Nothing was perfect except music, she used to say. However, Nick's skills on the pianoforte were an exception, and I could comprehend why she was so awed.

Even I was overwhelmed today.

"I am aware," I agreed, "I had to keep myself from giving him a huge round of applause, lest you both discovered me here and chased me out."

"Why are you here, in any case?" she frowned, "I thought you hated the pianoforte, and everything to do with it."

"I may hate the pianoforte, but I did accompany Nick on this journey with a job," I answered wryly, "and as of this moment, he spends more time with you than Elisabeth. It is my duty to evaluate if this could lead on to something else in the future." I suppressed a laugh, Estelle blushed once more.

I was not jesting. After accompanying Estelle around the duchy to learn more about Vareniol, after duelling, shooting or hunting with the Captains, Nick spent every spare moment in Estelle's company. Sometimes, he would walk with her before dinner in the gardens, or he would ride with her around Vareniol, or play the pianoforte with her.

I could sense that she was more than delighted. As an only child in her home, she had often been lonely, with nothing but her music to keep her company. Nick, for all his antics, was also a great lover of music at heart. As a result, they both got on very well together.

Indeed, I had not spoken properly to Nick since that embarrassing incident with the blankets. I had been more than happy to pretend it never happened, and so had he.

I knew not about him, but I simply could not forget that it ever happened.

"It will lead to nothing," she assured me firmly, "we are only friends." That would have been convincing, had her cheeks not turned a deeper shade of red.

"If you say so," I answered in a sing-song voice, laughing.

"Think what you will," she huffed, standing up, "I am going to the gardens." With that, she marched out of the room and shut the door behind her.

I laughed to myself again, and I was about to leave as well, when my gaze was drawn to the pianoforte behind me.

My smile faded at once.

There was a reason why I hated the pianoforte. It was not only because of the fact that the Ladies of the Society viewed it as a status symbol, a license of sorts to be able to marry a noble. If you were accomplished at the pianoforte, you were considered a desirable bride at once.

I found the notion ridiculous, but then again, the way men thought when they chose their brides was still a mystery to me.

However, I hated the pianoforte mainly because it reminded me too much of my Mama.

She had loved playing the pianoforte when she had lived, and even served as a Pianoforte Mistress in the Castle to the royal children. Every evening in the past, my whole family used to sit around the pianoforte in our Manor in Bordeux and she had played us some of her own compositions, as well as those that had been famous during that time period. It had been to the pianoforte music that I used to fall asleep every night.

Every time I looked at a pianoforte now, however, I could only see Mama sitting on the stool, with her golden hair that was so like mine cascading down her back in gentle curls, visible through the translucent veil covering her head, creating music with such passion and love that was rare in Ladies in general.

Time and time again it reminded me why she was not with my family today - all because of me. My youth, my folly.

It brought bittersweet memories, and I remembered the first, and the last song that I learned to play on the pianoforte under her guidance.

"....forever trying to find," Mama's fingers lingered on the piano on the last note, as her sweet soprano voice and Papa's baritone merged together in a lovely harmony.

They gazed into each other's eyes with a soul deep joy only music could give.

Max and I applauded loudly, cheering, as Papa kissed Mama's forehead. Hearing us, they both turned around to look at us.

"Mama, that was marvellous!" I lisped, beaming, "one day, I want to be able to sing and play the pianoforte exactly like you." I was almost jumping with excitement on Max's lap.

Mama's sapphire blue eyes twinkled in amusement, as she pretended to bow to me.

"Why, thank you, my Lady," she preened, causing me to plunge into fits of laughter and bounce again on Max's lap.

"By God," he groaned, "Julie, stop jumping! You are too heavy." His hands gripped my tiny waist firmly to stop me from bouncing on his lap.

"That hurts, Brother-mine!" I whined, turning around to scowl at him, "do not hold me so tightly!"

"Then stop jumping about so much!"

"Hush, she is only a small child, son," Papa admonished him quietly, "be patient."

He then turned towards me with a gentle smile and held out his arms. "Come here, sugar."

Sticking out my tongue at Max, I jumped out of his lap and waddled straight into Papa's waiting arms. In the meanwhile, he sighed in relief at being rid of me at long last and buried his nose in a book beside him.

"Ah, you are indeed becoming heavier, darling. It appears that you are growing up into a young Lady," Papa chuckled, lifting me up into his arms before throwing me up in the air, much to my immense delight.

"Wheee!" I squealed, giggling, "again, Papa, again!"

He obliged, and repeatedly threw me up in the air, and caught me deftly each time, sending waves of excitement through my tiny self.

"Henri, put her down before she becomes dizzy," Mama laughed, watching me with a soft smile on her face.

"She loves it, do you not, darling?" Papa smiled, as kissed my cheeks and set me down on the stool next to Mama.

I gazed up at the music sheets in front of her in wonder, very much in awe of how she could read so many squiggly shapes and lines to play her music.

She noticed me staring. "Do you want to learn to play the pianoforte, sweetheart?" Mama offered, running a hand through my golden curls lovingly.

"Truly?" my eyes grew huge, "but you said that my hands were too tiny."

"As your Papa says, you are growing up, Julie," she teased, "I could teach you to play a piece or two. What do you think, Henri? Should I teach her?" Her eyes twinkled.

I turned to Papa, making my eyes huge and pleading. "Please, Papa...."

He pretended to think hard for a long while, before he broke into a smile. "Of course you can learn, sugar. Who knows, you may play as well as your Mama one day."

That filled my heart with glowing happiness. To be able to play as well as Mama! How lovely, how utterly amazing would that be.

"Hooray!" I cheered, clapping my hands with delight, "Mama, will you teach me to play that lullaby you hum for me every night, please?"

I loved that lullaby. It brought to mind the rich green fields, the roaring seas of Monrique, and other happy thoughts. It filled me with such sweet joy that felt new every time I heard the song.

It was the lullaby Grandmama had composed when Mama herself was a little girl like me. Mama often reminisced how Grandmama had sung it to her and her brother, my Oncle Thomas, every night in their childhood days.

In the present, Mama had been playing it and singing it for Max and I to sleep as long as I could remember. I knew not about Max, but I never grew tired of hearing it.

A crease now appeared between her eyebrows. "It will be rather difficult for you to play, Julie darling, seeing as this is your first time on a pianoforte. Do you not want to start with a simpler piece?"

I shook my head stubbornly. "Nay, Mama, I can do it. I know I can."

She exchanged an exasperated look with Papa, before she turned to me, sighing. "Very well, then. If at any point in time, you find it too difficult, then tell me. We will switch to an easier piece, all right?"

"Yes, Mama," I beamed, resolving never to ask her to switch to another piece.

I will learn this lullaby no matter what happened.

I smiled weakly at the memory. The pianoforte had been a central part of our family when Mama still lived. I did eventually learn to play that lullaby flawlessly. It took me many weeks and months, but I did.

Mama's patience had never wavered, not once, throughout the agonising learning process.

Many people had assumed that I did not remember the lullaby now. I had been but five years old at that time, and everything had gone so horribly from that year forth, that I had more bad memories of my childhood than good ones to hold on to.

When Mama died, our pianoforte and my love for it died with her.

Deep inside, however, I knew I could still play the lullaby if I wished. It was the last gift she had given me, and throughout the years, I had made myself remember every note, every key.

When I had finished learning the lullaby, she had told me something I would never forget.

"Excellent, Julie!" Mama clapped her hands, as I played the last note, "that was flawless. Congratulations! Come, let us celebrate with some Marzipan, shall we?" With that, she stood up, and held out her hand for me.

But I continued to sit at my stool, deep in thought. "Mama, may I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead, sweetheart."

"Mama, all your other pianoforte pieces have words in them that you usually sing with," I questioned, frowning, "but why does the lullaby have no words?"

"Because the words will be yours," she smiled gently.

"What does that mean, Mama?"

"Each person is special, and to each person, this lullaby may mean different things. For me, this lullaby keeps our family together. For your Papa, it keeps his childhood alive. For you, it may mean something else," she explained softly, putting her arms around me, "when you are all grown up, you will have to think about what this song means to you, and you can put in your own words. My verses will differ from yours. It is why I do not sing you the words to this lullaby."

I gaped at her. "I have to write my own verses? But I can hardly spell verses."

"You will, in time," she laughed, "you are still little now. But when you are older, I am certain that your verses will be much better than mine."

"Truly? You think so?" I gazed at her hopefully.

She nodded, kissing my forehead. "You have mastered the lullaby so young, so quickly, and so well," she murmured, "and I am certain your verses will be just as marvellous."

She was wrong, however. I never wrote the verses to the lullaby, nor did I attempt to in the last seventeen years, although I heard it almost every day in my head.

I simply could not bring myself to do so. The lullaby, the pianoforte, music in general made me realise, time and time again, that I was the sole reason why she was not alive and well anymore. They made me hate myself to such an extent that I sometimes could not believe that I was capable of feeling.

Thus, I did what I always did under such circumstances: I buried my emotions and memories in the back of my mind, hoping they will never resurface again.

I tore my gaze away from the pianoforte before I lost control, and firmly strode out of the room, willing myself not to look back at it.

But I did, anyway.

***

The Lady Knight

This had to be the first time I held a meeting with my Captains that was both essential and useless at the same time.

"Ma'am, are you certain you are feeling well enough?" Captain Dupont shot me a concerned glance, "we could hold this meeting on another day if you wish."

I gazed around at the bemused faces of my Captains seated around me in exasperation. Only two out of the six of them present were not drunk from the excessive wine served at dinner tonight.

One was Captain Morrison, who had solemnly promised his wife he would never indulge in drinking, and the other was Captain Dupont, whose physician had advised against drinking. Even Captain Everard had succumbed to temptation, much to my disappointment.

But then again, Vareniol specialised in wine-making. Mayhap it was indeed true, as Estelle had warned me, that once one took a sip of Vareniol-made wine, it was hard to stop drinking.

However, all army officers were trained to develop and master self-control. Where was that self-control tonight at the dinner table?

Poor Estelle could do nothing else but play the gracious host when they kept requesting refills of the wine. Nick, who had very cleverly abstained from drinking, had been laughing all the while I was squirming in embarrassment.

For the first time, I had wished I had never got out of bed after my recovery. At least I would not have had to witness this humiliation.

"You mean, if everyone else is well enough, Captain Dupont," I corrected him wryly, "by the Lord, how will you all guard Nick tonight when all except the two of you are so intoxicated that you cannot lift a sword to save your own lives?" I flashed them all severe gazes.

"We are sorry, Ma'am," came the chorus, slurred answer, and Captain Everard actually gave an additional belch, making it sound utterly insincere.

I made up my mind there and then to punish them so harshly the next morning that they would never touch another drop of alcohol in their entire lives.

"I suppose Captain Dupont and I will have to be the ones on guard tonight, then," Captain Morrison shrugged, suppressing his laughter, "it should be sufficient, Ma'am, not to worry. The rest of them can go straight to bed after this."

I threw my hands up in exasperation. "This is very important, Captain Morrison," I sighed tiredly, "I received a letter from King Alfonso this evening, and he has found some incriminating letters hidden among his late Uncle's possessions - letters from Black Sheep to Ferdinand. I have them here with me."

Captain Dupont and Captain Morrison sat upright at once, while the others dozed off in their chairs.

"May we see them, Ma'am?" Captain Dupont tensed, and Captain Morrison nodded, looking equally solemn.

For an answer, I glanced at my table, wearily amused. It was almost as if I was continually haunted by old and new letters much too often these days. Indeed, if not for the fact that I loved my job, I would have quit weeks ago to become a messenger instead.

Because lately, that was what I was seem to be doing - reading letters and more letters which kept leading me to close to The Truth, but yet, not quite. To say that I was frustrated beyond relief at this point would be an understatement.

I reached for the scroll with Vantauge's seal, and handed it to them, already having memorised it by heart.

21 October, Year 1 of King Alfonso XI of Vantauge's reign

Granada Castle, Madriga

Vantauge

Dearest Julia,

Maria and I are very well, thank you. She is almost five months along with child now, and she is certain that she would be delivered in late spring or early summer next year.

After a lot of searches and discreet enquiries, I have managed to find a few letters among my late Uncle Ferdinand's possessions that were written to him with actual English alphabets, and not in code, as the letters you possess were seemed to be written in. These letters bore a strange seal which did not match my country's but could match yours. I have sent you the letters for you to deliberate yourself.

I have also looked through my late Uncle's records and found that there are a lot of unexplained expenditures of my people's tax money. Huge amounts of money are missing from the private royal treasury as well, and the accounts state that the money had been given to someone by the name of Diego as a loan over a period of ten years. No other information was recorded, but my staff are investigating this matter as I write. I have a feeling that this is no longer a problem concerning your country, but mine as well.

You had instructed me not to tell King Frederick about this matter until you find the masterminds behind this, but I am of the opinion that you should. It is no longer a question of murders, but rather, it is a question of a group of people from two different countries, previously at war with each other, working together on something illegal. It has become a state issue that must reach the ears of the King and his Crown Council.

However, if you still wish to keep this a secret, then go ahead, by all means. You have my friendship, and I had promised you my loyalty. I will not say a word unless you instruct me to. This is merely a piece of advice from one friend to another. You are free to accept it or reject it.

Good luck, my dear, and may God go with you.

Your beloved friend,

King Alfonso XI of Vantauge

I understood what he meant all too well. With treason and traitors involved in this case, it was no longer just a murder case to be dealt with by the Army, but a state issue that had to involve the government. The King had to know, and so did the Crown Council.

But what if the government itself was not trustworthy?

The Lords who had been murdered were traitors. And these traitors were a part of the nobility. What if some of the other members of the Order of the Serpents were also part of the Crown Council? Who was to be trusted and who was not?

I did not know. This was why I kept everything a secret, so that no one else knew anything of import, with the exception of my Captains. In that way, no one else can betray me and break my trust. Until I rooted out the leader of this Order, I was not going to inform the King or his Crown Council about any of this.

It was a decision that I had made when I had watched Lord Anthony die.

"Ma'am...." Captain Dupont trailed off, but I already knew what he wanted to say.

"Nay, Captain Dupont. You know I will not say anything to the King until we find and imprison these traitors," I stared at him, daring him to disagree.

"Ma'am is right, Captain Dupont," Captain Morrison unexpectedly took my side, "we will present facts that we are certain of. At the moment, all is uncertain. Ma'am, may we now see the traitors' letters?"

I glanced at the package of brittle, yellowing letters that King Alfonso had sent me, and pulled at their strings to release the letters. I then passed it to them.

"Look at the seal of these letters," I commanded them quietly.

Puzzled at my request, they turned it around in their hands to look at the broken seal, scrutinising it closely to observe it. Their eyes widened almost at once.

I knew what they had seen. As King Alfonso had told me, the seal was that of Monrique's. To be more specific, it was the royal seal of Monrique, used by the Crown Council and the sovereigns to authorise state documents.

"An inside job," Captain Morrison whispered.

"And there is proof of it," my voice was hollow, "read out those letters to me."

13 December, Year 20 of King Frederick V of Monrique's reign

Dear Ferdinand,

I have managed to escape my prison. I am now safely hidden, and I am certain that I will not be found here. My wife and I will aid you in your cause, and we will round up important members for this Order of the Serpents as soon as possible. They may come by choice, or we may have to blackmail them.

Diego, Black Sheep

"Prison?" Captain Morrison looked up, astonished, "has anyone managed to escape Bordeux Dungeons in the last ten years?"

"Not that I am aware of," I shook my head, "but then again, I thought he may be referring to other types of imprisonment. Captivity, a stifling life - have what you will. Read on, Captain Morrison."

24 January, Year 21 of King Frederick V of Monrique's reign

Dear Ferdinand,

There are now a total of 24 men from my country who have joined me. They are all spread out evenly and without suspicion among the nobility and the businessmen, and they are well able to carry out the tasks required of them.

However, I need some men from your country to help me as well if we are going to make this work together. We are also in need of some funds and weapons for training.

Diego, Black Sheep

"The nobility too?" Captain Dupont gasped in horror.

I nodded, sighing heavily. "Do you now understand why I do not wish to say anything to the government as of yet?" I gazed at him, "the traitors may well be among the Crown Council for all we know."

Captain Morrison's hands clenched into tight fists, rage clear in his eyes. "We will find them, Ma'am, if it is the last thing we do." he vowed. With that, he continued on reading.

2 April, Year 21 of King Frederick V of Monrique's reign

Dear Ferdinand,

There is a total of 1400 members in the Monriquan Armed Forces - Commander General Laxier, Lieutenant Raleigh, 66 Captains, 660 Corporals and 672 Cadets as of this year. Apparently, they have started accepting women in the army now, for the twelve-year-old daughter of the Lord President has joined the Army as a Cadet.

The Order says she is promising, but I do not know her that well. However, they are all against another war with Vantauge, the girl included. We have to bide our time, wait for Monrique to be at its weakest and then strike.

Till then, we have to train our own men, and do our very best to cause instability in the country, starting with the twin Princes.

Diego, Black Sheep

"Are they talking about you, Ma'am?" Captain Morrison raised an eyebrow.

I smiled weakly. "I was a threat from the very beginning, was I not?" I jested in a quiet voice, "the tiny, hot-tempered twelve-year-old daughter of the Lord President who could not hold a sword to save her life."

Captain Morrison merely chuckled in dark humour.

"Let me read them now," Captain Dupont snatched the letters from Captain Morrison, deathly pale upon hearing the revelations, wanting to see them for himself.

As he began to read them out loud, one after another, the rage within me grew steadily, as it had the first time I had read these.

They stated the exact amount of money in the royal treasury of Monrique, the exact statistics and reports on the Monriquan Armed Forces, and the exact state of Monrique politically, economically, socially over the last ten years.

Every last one of confidential government issues were plainly written on the yellowing parchment, and sent to King Ferdinand, of all people. I felt my blood boil with fury.

Who was this Diego? How did he know so much about all these top-secret workings in the government? Was he in my Army? In the government? Perhaps someone extremely close to the King? Whoever it was, he had been doing a good job of evading the attention of the Army this decade.

Indeed, if I could get my hands on him now, he would be dead in a moment.

I never had any patience with traitors of any sort. To betray your own country, the very soil you were born, raised and grew old in was a sin. An unforgivable, despicable sin. One that should be, and was, punishable by death in Monrique.

And whoever this Diego was, many things were very clear from his somewhat blunt letters to the late King of Vantauge.

Clearly, he had formed an Order with former King Ferdinand, along with some others by inviting and/or blackmailing them, to help Vantauge invade and conquer Vantauge. He had been training the Order members and biding his time to strike Monrique at the correct time, for the last ten years.

Moreover, he was co-responsible, along with King Ferdinand, for Richard's kidnapping and the assassination attempts on Nick over the last ten years, up until the poisoning scare a few weeks ago.

By the Lord, I could feel my heated blood pumping to every inch of my body with the rage that was pounding through my veins.

I knew and I wanted to meet this Diego very, very soon.

***

"You will never win, Captain Morrison," Nick bragged loudly, lunging forward with his sword, "not while I am duelling against you."

Captain Morrison blocked his attack, smirking. "Until you learn to be humble, Your Royal Highness, I doubt that you stand the tiniest chance even against Ma'am in this condition, let alone against me."

I started from where I was seated, startled, before I scowled at Captain Morrison. "I can win the both of you," I growled, holding up my hands, "in this condition if I wanted to. You are most welcome to try, certainly."

Nick pressed forward in that brief moment that Captain Morrison was distracted by my words, and his sword gently touched the latter's armoured torso in an eye's blink.

"Point," Nick declared triumphantly, stepping back.

"Ma'am, you should return to the Manor," Captain Morrison complained sullenly, as he inclined his head to accept Nick's words, "you are proving to be a rather costly distraction."

"Costly?" I raised an eyebrow, munching on a Marzipan block.

Nick laughed out loud, a hearty, booming laugh, as Captain Morrison grumbled something under his breath.

"Captain Morrison had bet three Marzipan blocks, and twenty pieces of sweetmeat that he would win this duel against me," he threw me an impish smile, as he and Captain Morrison took their positions again, "would you like to place your bets as well, my Lady Knight? I see you have a lot of Marzipan blocks there." He eyed the plate of Marzipan beside me rather hungrily.

I slid the plate behind me from his view. "Nay, Nick," I rolled my eyes, "I am not as stupid as Captain Morrison to bet something eatable, let alone something that I love."

"Are you calling me stupid, Ma'am?" Captain Morrison frowned at me.

"I think it is best if I remain a silent spectator, gentlemen," I yawned, "please continue with your duel. With the promise of a bet, it is starting to become interesting at long last."

They nodded, smiling confidently, as they bowed to each other, and took up their stances.

"En garde!" I called out loudly, "etes vous prêtes?"

They nodded.

"Allez!"

They began to circle each other, looking for the other's weak points to strike at the correct time, never taking their eyes off each other.

I bit into the next of my Marzipan blocks, unable to take my eyes off the scene in front of me. I analysed every aspect of their postures, the way they were holding their swords, and strategized how they could be better.

It had become a habit after training Cadets and Corporals alike for so many years.

"Jules!" a voice called from behind me at that moment.

I turned around, to see Estelle make her way to where I was seated, on the front step of the Vareniol Manor. I picked up the plate and placed it on my lap, making space for her to sit beside me.

"Good morrow, Estelle," I smiled up at her, as I helped her to sit, "do you want to enjoy this duel with me? I could give you a play-by-play account of how they are fighting."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Nay, you will give me a series of lectures on how they could have fought better," she answered knowingly, "I think I will pass."

I tended to do that often, I supposed.

"Oh, well," I shrugged, "do you want some Marzipan, at least?" I offered her the plate.

I was in a rather generous mood at the moment. It was not customary of me to offer my precious Marzipan blocks to anyone.

She accepted, beaming. "Thank you," she bit into it with pure bliss, thoughtful, "these are wonderful. I think Elisabeth made them. No one can bake as well as she does in Vareniol."

"Truly?" I was pleasantly surprised, "I did not know that. Lady Violante allowed me to take the remaining Marzipan blocks from the dining table after breakfast when I asked her. You should have seen Nick's when he found out that I had taken them before he could." I chuckled, remembering his comically woeful expression.

"His Royal Highness likes Marzipan?" Estelle was surprised, "he has never mentioned it."

"He would have been too busy eating them," I rolled my eyes, smirking, "it is a wonder how he eats so much, and still manages not to become obese."

She smiled vaguely but said nothing. Shrugging, I returned to watching the duel, where Nick and Captain Morrison were engaged in a furious battle of the swords.

And of their egos.

And of the load of eatables they had bet with.

"Jules?" her quiet voice broke the silence between us.

"Yes?" I turned to her to smile at her, holding out the plate to her once more, "if you want more, go ahead and take them. They were made in your kitchens, in any case."

She shook her head, chuckling. "Nay, I finished my breakfast mere minutes ago. I am good," she sighed, gobbling down the last of her Marzipan, "I merely wanted to ask you something I have been curious about for a while."

I tilted my head, intrigued. "Go ahead."

She played with her fingers for a moment, lost in her thoughts. "How does the Crown Prince look like?" she sounded like she genuinely wanted to know.

I deliberated for a moment, surprised by her request, and observed the man in question carefully. "Male. Six-foot, two inches. Lean build. Brown hair, grey eyes. Sharp, angular features. With a soft spot for sugar coated Marzipan."

Estelle burst out laughing. "Jules, you sound as if you are giving me a report on a criminal! I am asking you to describe how the Prince looks like."

I sighed heavily. "All right, all right, um..." I hesitated for a moment, as I trained my eyes on him, "well, he is extremely tall...as tall as one of your bedchamber doors, I should think. He has a lean build - not too thin, but he still has some muscles. He has long legs, and his one stride matches at least three of mine. Can you believe that?" I was more annoyed by this fact than astonished by it.

She nodded, smiling. "I think I can imagine. Do go ahead."

I sighed again, wondering why this was proving to be so difficult. "He has dark brown hair that curls very, very slightly, and he always likes to leave it dishevelled," I began again, glancing at him, "sometimes, when he is frustrated, he runs his hands through it and makes it even messier. But it suits him, in a strange way. Mayhap it is because I have become accustomed to seeing it thus."

She said nothing but continued to smile.

"He has huge, almond-shaped grey eyes that lightens or darkens depending on his mood," I told her, stammering slightly, "they are framed by thick, long lashes that arc up slightly towards his eyebrows. When he is happy, his eyes are bright, laughing and alive. You can stare into them all day, and feel his happiness as acutely as your own. When he is angry, however, lo behold - they turn a terrifying shade of dark grey, and you will know you have to move out of his way at the earliest opportunity."

I continued to gaze at him, watching him defend himself against Captain Morrison's desperate attempts to score a point.

"His nose is sharp, but very slightly crooked. Prince Richard had punched him about ten years back, and it was enough to break it. I suppose it never healed completely," I chuckled to myself, remembering, "his cheeks are slightly hollowed, and he has strong, chiselled jaws that tense up when he is stubborn about something."

I smiled vaguely, lost in my memories, as my eyes were trained on him.

"But his best features are his lips," I found myself admitting softly, "'tis true his mood changes as quickly as the weather, but when he smiles, he looks like a child on Christmas morning. His grey eyes completely light up with joy, and the edges of his eyes crinkles. That smile is never gradual or slow in its ascent up his lips - it catches you completely by surprise, and there and then, you forget everything he had ever said or done before to you. The innocent happiness in that one smile is almost infectious, that you forget your own woes too for a while. It makes you want to smile along with him."

I had almost forgotten Estelle's presence beside me until she spoke up a few moments after I had stopped speaking. "Jules, I think I should bring you to the Physician once more." Her voice was quiet, solemn.

I blinked, startled out of my daze. "Whatever do you mean?"

She shook her head slowly. "I am afraid you need to have your heart checked, dear friend," she smiled faintly, her voice tenderly soft, "for I have a feeling it no longer belongs to you."