TFT 01 Beauty and the Beast (11 page)

A bee buzzed between Elle and the prince, and Elle finally found her voice. “Good morning, Your Highness,” she said, her voice was flat and toneless.

Severin looked down at the weed and growled, plucking it from the ground with ease.

Elle kept staring as the prince weeded. He seemed different. Maybe it was seeing him covered in dirt, or maybe it was the simple fact that he was
gardening.
Elle thoughtfully scratched her scalp. “The gardens are exotic. I am interested in your garden management, for I cannot fathom how you manage to have all these flowers in bloom at once,” she said.

Severin looked up and jabbed at Elle with the trowel. “Not one word,” he ordered.

Elle blinked. “Pardon?”

“I am not
gardening
. I am spiritually cleansing myself.”

“Oh. Of course.”

The skin on the bridge of Severin’s cat nose wrinkled. “The act of weeding allows me to expel my thoughts so I may work more efficiently.”

“Your Highness. Gardening is not something to be ashamed of.”

“All good warriors must make time to focus their thoughts.”

“It is a genteel and admirable hobby,” Elle said, reaching out to rub a rosebush leaf between her fingers.

“The balance of peace and work allows one to obtain an optimum performance level.”

“Your Highness, allow me to say that you appear to have selective hearing.”

“Stop rubbing the bush, you’re getting your finger oils on it,” Severin said before he went back to pulling weeds.

Thoroughly chastised, Elle made her way to a stone bench not five feet from the prince.

Severin did not acknowledge the movement and kept weeding.

Elle watched and Jock growled twice more at Severin before he retired to the shade of the rosebush to snarl at the illegitimate royal in comfort. “Why does Jock dislike you so?” Elle asked.

“Who?”

“Jock, the dog.”

Severin stopped digging and turned to stare at Elle.

“It’s a perfectly nice name,” she said.

Severin returned to his weeding task.

“You have failed to answer my question, so I shall pose it to you again. Why does Jock dislike you?”

“I find it unreasonable that you haven’t put this together on your own. Hasn’t it occurred to you that he may not like the way I
look
?” Severin said, ripping a deep rooted weed out of the ground before he moved over a foot.

“Oh, it’s because you resemble a
cat
,” Elle said.

“He hates me because I’m an unnatural beast, Intruder.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Your Highness,” Elle said.

Severin briefly pinched the skin between his eyes. “Is there anything you need help with, Intruder?”

“No.”

“Then why do you remain here?”

“Because I don’t think I’m going to get another chance to see Loire’s commanding general weeding and gardening,” Elle said.

Severin growled.

“I’m curious about the roses. I haven’t seen roses in so many different colors and sizes before.”

“I was not aware that Belvenes had many roses to begin with.”

“It doesn’t, but I work at Noyers. I’ve seen the palace gardens, and they cannot compare to this.”

“Thank you,” Severin grudgingly said, savagely ripping out another weed.

Elle fell silent and watched the prince work, sunning herself in the light. After a few minutes Severin finished weeding. He stood, brushed himself off, and picked up his tools. He started to leave before he stopped, turned to Elle, and bowed. He left just as the sun hid behind a cloud.

Elle watched him go, glancing at Oliver when the boy slithered up to her now that the danger had passed. “He is a puzzle,” Elle said, nodding at the retreating prince.

Oliver’s handwriting was awful, but earnest.
He’s my hero.

Elle smiled sadly as she recalled Emele’s words about the stable boy. “How very virtuous,” she said, placing an affectionate hand on the boy’s head. “Shall we move indoors? I could use a snack. Would you join me?”

Yes!

“Emele, I am not amused. If this is another one of your plans to make me run into the prince I will thwart it,” Elle said, standing in the doorway of the library.

Emele, holding an oil lamp in the darkness of the room, shook her head and beckoned for Elle to come closer.

Outside the wind howled and rain thrashed against the windows, giving the evening a spooky air.

Elle sighed and swung her crutches, following Emele as the ladies maid walked the perimeter of the library. Emele looked at each portrait, her face upturned at the life-size paintings of long dead nobility. In all of the portraits the men and women were elegantly dressed, usually holding something of worth—a crown, the bridle of a hot blooded Arabian horse, a lapdog, or jewels. Although the hairstyles and manners of dress changed with each portrait, the expressions were the same. They always had pale skin, pinched faces, and usually their heads were tilted up, looking down at viewers with the air of superiority.

Lightning cracked outside, briefly lighting up the library before thunder rumbled in the distance.

Light from Emele’s lamp fell on the portrait of a tall, thin man Elle recognized as the current king of Loire. Next to him, capturing the prince’s puffed pride rather well, was a portrait of Crown Prince Lucien. Just beyond the prince was a portrait of a young man.

Emele stopped and placed the oil lamp on a small table that was tucked against the wall.
His Highness, Prince Severin
, she wrote.

The portrait was smaller than the others, and the frame was less ornate. It must have been completed some years ago, for Severin was gangly and fresh faced. He couldn’t have been older than 16.

Unlike his father and brother—who had fine blonde hair—Severin had charcoal black hair. A thatch of it hung down over his face, covering his left eye. The rest of it was tied off at the base of his neck. Severin’s skin was tan, and he held a sword, but it was his expression that Elle found remarkable. He looked…haunted. Even as a teenager he had dark circles under his eyes.

I know you do not care much for him, Elle
, Emele wrote.
I don’t know why, and I know better than to ask. But please, I am asking you as a friend,
please
help milord.

Elle studied her maid with a calculating expression. “Emele, I am here because I broke my leg falling through your roof. I am
not
the quality of lady that a noble such as Severin would take note of, much less search for companionship in.”

But there isn’t anyone else. You are the only one who is not afraid of us, of him. You have a true and just heart. Help him, for my sake if not his.

Elle clutched her crutches until the wood creaked in protest. “Blast!” she said, stamping a crutch. “Blast!” she uttered again, glaring at the portrait before growling at Emele. “Fine. Have it your way. I’ll try befriending your dolt of a prince. But I’ll not take the blame when he ignores me and scorns my presence.”

Emele clapped her hands in glee.
Thank you, thank you my dearest friend!

Elle narrowed her eyes as thunder made the floor tremble beneath her feet. “I’m going back to my room. I want to sleep,” she said before thumping her way out of the halo of light Emele’s lamp cast.

Emele reclaimed the lamp and hurried to her side.
You are so kind, Elle.

“I am,” Elle grunted. “But I owe you my thanks for the care you’ve given me. If this is how you wish for me to repay you, I will try.”

Emele slipped her small slate into a pocket of her dress and placed a protective arm around Elle’s shoulders.

The two walked back to Elle’s room in silence.

That night the servants of Chanceux Chateau rejoiced in a voiceless celebration for the remainder of the storm.

Chapter 6

The Invasion

Early the following morning Elle knocked on the door to Severin’s study.

“Enter.”

Elle slammed the door open with a surprising amount of force and smiled winningly at Severin when he looked up from his papers. “Good morning,” she said.

“Hn,” Severin said, returning his attention to his papers.

“Set the flowers right here, Oliver. Thank you,” Elle said as the groom set down a vase of purple irises on the bookshelf closest to the door.

Oliver quit the room, leaving Elle with the silent prince. “It is astounding that your flower gardens lasted through the temperature drop over the last few days,” Elle said, affectionately stroking the vivid purple petals.

Severin’s left ear flicked as he signed a document.

“The gardens didn’t seem too damaged by last night’s storm. A tree lost a large branch. Marc was sawing it up as Emele and I went out to collect the flowers,” Elle said, tugging on one of the reed-like leaves that split off an iris.

Severin stood and cross the room. He picked up the vase, pointedly holding it out of Elle’s reach. “Did you need something, Intruder?” he asked.

“No. I thought I would come see what you are doing,” Elle said, following him back to his desk.

“Work,” Severin said, placing the vase on his desk before sitting down again. The chair groaned when his weight dropped into it.

“You’re not going out to see the gardens?” Elle asked.

“No.”

“Oh,” Elle said before sitting in a plush armchair.

Severin looked up. “What are you doing?” he said, the points of his upper fangs jutting out past his lips.

“I’m sitting down,” Elle said.

“Why?”

“Because if I want to drink my tea I need to be sitting,” Elle said.

“What nonsense are you talking about? There is no tea here.”

“Of course not. It hasn’t arrived yet.”

“You called for tea in
my
study?”

“Yes.”

Severin massaged his forehead.

“I apologize. I assumed you would want tea this early in the morning. Do you desire something stronger? Wine, perhaps?”

Severin shot Elle a golden eyed glare.

Elle took no notice and set her crutches aside.

“My servants put you up to this,” Severin said.

“And what if they did? Have you
seen
Bernadine? The woman wields a rolling pin all day long.
I’m
certainly not going to refuse her,” Elle said.

Severin released a bark of laughter. “I should have expected it to be Bernadine.”

“She did nothing of the sort. I merely asked what
if
your servants did.”

Someone knocked on the door.

“Enter,” Severin said.

A maid pushed a serving cart in the room, pouring Elle a cup of hot tea.

“Severin, would you like some tea?” Elle asked, picking three walnut cookies off a tray of tea treats.

“No,” Severin said.

The maid curtsied and left, leaving the tea cart behind.

Elle hefted herself to her feet and stood, balancing without her crutches, between Severin’s desk and the tea cart. She placed the porcelain plate with the walnut cookies on Severin’s desk before sitting down again.

Severin glanced at the cookies and stared at Elle.

“What?” Elle said, adding sugar to her tea. “There’s no need to pretend. I know you have a soft spot for that particular kind of cookie.”

Severin narrowed his eyes at Elle. “How do you know?”

“Your Highness, give me some credit. We have dined together for some weeks now. There is no one to talk to during our meals except for an overweight dog. I will have noticed
some
things about you.”

Severin grudgingly crunched on a cookie while Elle stirred her tea.

Elle watched as the prince immersed himself in work. She quietly poured another cup of tea and added cream to it before she unobtrusively stood and placed it by his plate—adding another cookie to it while she was standing.

Elle smiled in victory when some minutes later Severin mindlessly reached for the tea cup and drank from it. He set it down and continued with his work.

Elle quietly crunched on treats and drank her tea. Although Emele would probably be surprised to see Elle’s attempt to prod Severin from his self imposed exile, Elle was selecting a winning strategy rather than a conventional one. She never did anything by halves. She told Emele she would do her best, and she would. The best way to befriend His Illegitimate Highness Prince Severin, Elle decided based on his personality and her observations, was to be as inconspicuous as possible as she steadily invaded his life.

The prince wouldn’t notice her complete invasion until it had already passed.

Elle smiled like a pleased feline as she leaned back in her chair and watched Severin sip his tea.