by Baron Alban’s words echoed in my mind. The next heir to the throne of Mandridore. ‘But,’ I said, and took a breath. ‘But you said— did you lie? You said you were not born to eminence.’
‘No! I didn’t lie. That was true. I am a commoner, same as you. I mean— wait, I didn’t mean that.’ He gave a great sigh and sank down to the floor, resting his back against the ballroom wall. ‘I was given a barony years ago, for services to the Crown. And after that there were a lot more services to the Crown. The rewards piled up. Houses, lands, wealth… for a time, I admit, I was delighted with it all. I’d spent long enough in rootless poverty to appreciate plenty when it came. But it came at a price.
‘See, Their Majesties are childless. That’s a huge problem for them both personally and… and professionally. No family, no heir. And the queen’s been too old to bear children for some years now. Something had to be done.
‘What’s less widely known is that she is sick. She’s in no imminent danger, but there was no time left to adopt and raise an infant. They needed a capable heir, and fast.
‘So they chose me. They knew I could handle the duties of the monarch, I’ve proved it enough times. And we are… fond of each other.’ He stared sightlessly into the middle distance, not looking at me. ‘I knew what it would mean if I said yes: nothing about my life would ever be my own again. But how could I refuse? In effect, they were my family already. And they were desperate. So I agreed. That was a year and a half ago.’
He fell silent. ‘So you became the crown prince,’ I prompted. ‘And got married.’
‘Some say monarchies are outdated in these modern times, but regardless, they’re still here. And they operate according to all the same old rules. The line of succession’s been in doubt for long enough. Ysurra wants to see it secure before she dies.
‘So they chose a bride for me. Her name is Marit. She’s the eldest daughter of the king and queen of Arenmark, the troll kingdom of Norway. She is a good woman.’ He paused, and sighed deeply. ‘Ice cold, a princess to her fingertips… but I cannot rightly fault her.’
I sat silent, my mind reeling. My jovial, easy-going, occasional colleague Alban was a married crown prince, preparing to take the throne of Mandridore.
In truth, the married part did not altogether surprise me. It had previously entered my head to wonder why so popular a man, with so many obvious advantages, had not been snapped up by some pearl of ladykind long before. Of course he wasn’t single. What kind of an idiot was I, that I had accepted this apparent incongruity without ever thinking to ask?
But the rest left me reeling.
‘Why,’ I said after a while, ‘were you flirting with me when you’re married?’
He looked rather sadly at me. ‘Because it is what the old me would have done.’
The old Alban, just a baron and not a prince. Free to explore, free to flirt, free to choose. I watched him for a moment, trying to read his face. I saw mostly sadness. ‘Do you regret saying yes to this new life?’
‘Sometimes,’ he said, so softly I barely heard the word.
Despite my anger and humiliation, I felt a stab of pity for him. He’d trapped himself, and if he was to be believed, he had done it for laudable enough reasons. I tried to imagine the loneliness of the life he had described: married to an assigned partner, chosen for every advantage but your own. Constantly flattered and courted, but incapable of being truly close to anybody. I could see why he’d enjoyed his interludes with me. It must’ve been like having a holiday from his new self.
‘What was it you were planning to do with me?’ In all fairness, I couldn’t accuse him of having done anything all that much wrong. He’d flirted, but he hadn’t seriously courted me. He’d taken me out to breakfast, but we’d never had a real date. He hadn’t even kissed me.
Perhaps it was just my own foolishness that had led me to believe he’d had any of those other things in mind.
‘I don’t know,’ he said dully. ‘I just… liked being with you.’
We sat in silence for a while. My thoughts wandered, inconclusively.
Having got over the initial shock, I found I did not hate him. I wasn’t even angry. Just a little — a very little — disappointed.
‘And where is your lady wife?’ I said at length.
‘In Arenmark. We’ve met about three times since the wedding.’
‘Any children yet?’
‘No.’
There was nothing else to say after that, and I didn’t try. Small talk would have been unbearable. When Jay finally approached and stood hovering upon the threshold, I was glad enough to rise from my bench, and join him.
‘I’d better get to bed,’ I said to Alban. ‘We should get started early in the morning.’
He nodded, looking at me with his beautiful eyes full of questions. He asked none of them, and I didn’t enquire. ‘Goodnight, Ves,’ was all he said.
‘Night, Alban.’
I left him sitting there alone on the balcony, and I hated that I did. One of the things I’d seen in that final glance was the kind of deep, aching loneliness the soul shrinks from acknowledging. I’d wanted badly to stay, and keep him company in whatever fashion I could.
But what good would that do? To him, I could not be any of the things either of us might have wanted. It was going to be difficult enough to forge some kind of working relationship out of this mess.
So I let Jay take me away, grateful for the solicitude that had brought him to my side.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked as we wove our way to the main doors.
‘Fine,’ I said firmly. ‘Nothing terrible has happened.’
‘I’d thought you were becoming fond of him.’
‘No comment.’
He smiled faintly. ‘Fair enough.’ We’d made it out into the corridor by then, which was cooler and mostly deserted. Jay paused. ‘You can find your way to your room from here, yes?’
I’d spent an hour in that room not so long ago, dressing and having my hair done. It was a pretty chamber, assigned to me for the night, and I was looking forward to sinking into the enormous canopied bed.
None of this meant I had any idea where in that maze of a palace it was. ‘We have met before, haven’t we?’ I said to Jay, with a look of mock amazement.
He chuckled, and gently took my elbow. ‘This way, then.’
Upon the following morning — bright and early, as I had insisted upon — I had occasion to curse my fate in at least one particular.
If I’d had to have my foolish dreams about the baron crushed to death by cold, cruel reality, couldn’t it have happened after our important monarch-appointed mission rather than before? For when I arrived at the breakfast-table in our shared parlour, I found Jay and the Baron (no, no, wait. The prince) already seated, working their way through plates of pancakes, eggs, bacon and toast in awkward silence. Neither one looked at the other.
‘Morning,’ I said, sitting a few seats away from them both.
I received attractive smiles from both gentleman, which would’ve been nice if it hadn’t so neatly highlighted the coldness of their treatment of each other. ‘Slept well?’ said Alban.
‘Wonderfully well,’ I said with a bright smile. Total lie. I’d slept for about three and a half hours, having taken at least that long to fall asleep. For some reason my head had been spinning too much for repose. I beamed at Jay as well. It was only fair, he being the only one among my present company who hadn’t recently fractured my dreams, and applied myself to the nearest dish of pancakes.
I was left with the renewed feeling that there are few disasters that can’t be improved upon by a good meal. Once I was suitably filled with excellent pancakes and splendid tea, I felt a lot more equal to the unusual demands of the day.
‘So, then,’ I said, interrupting the ringing silence. ‘We left Millie up at Ashdown. Do we suppose she is still there?’
I was looking mostly at Jay. He had by far the closest relationship with the affable, if mildly deranged, ghost of Millie Makepeace and the rickety old farmhouse she inhabited.
‘Probably,’ Jay answered, pushing an abandoned piece of strawberry around his plate with his fork. ‘She ought not to have recovered the strength for another jump yet.’
I wondered what was eating Jay. He looked positively woebegone, one elbow planted on the table and his chin in his hand. I couldn’t see why the news of the Baron’s true circumstances would affect him all that much, and he’d had all night to get over his anger on my account. ‘So we’ll go back there.’ I turned to Alban. ‘Is there a Waypoint somewhere here that we can use?’
‘Of course.’ He abandoned his own plate, still mostly full, and rose from the table. ‘It’s at our disposal whenever we wish.’
‘Then we’d better not waste any time.’ I rose as well, casting a last, regretful look at the leftover pancakes. ‘Jay?’
He’d seemed lost in thought, but he looked up at the sound of his name. ‘Hmm?’
‘I’ve just volunteered you to Waymasterify us back to Ashdown. Or as near it as possible.’
‘Right.’ He blinked a couple of times, visibly pulling his thoughts back from parts unknowable, and made for the door.
I stayed behind a moment with Alban. ‘Listen, if we can forget about last night for the next few days, I think that would be best. We need to focus on work.’
He nodded. ‘I would like nothing better myself.’
I nodded too, smiling around the unaccountable sinking of my stupid heart. ‘Great. I’ll see you in a few minutes. I just need to fetch my stuff.’
Back in my room, I found the pup was (for once) awake. She came running to greet me as I opened the door, her puff of a tail wagging furiously. She practically vibrated with joy, and I bent to pet her, feeling a little soothed. ‘Hi, Puppins.’
My good feelings waned a bit when I saw what she had done with every item of value in the room. They were piled in a heap in the middle of my lovely four-poster bed, wound up in the blankets in a neat nest.
‘You are a menace,’ I informed her sternly, her only response to which was to yip cheerfully at me and grin. ‘This,’ I said, brandishing my string of pearls at her, ‘is not yours! Nor is it mine! How would I explain it to Their Majesties if we walked off with — or broke — all these jewels and antiques?’ For she had been most industrious. Everything from ivory figurines to ear-jewels lay nestled together among her haul.
We had a short wrestling match as she tried to reclaim the treasures I was rapidly divesting her of. Being, for once, the bigger, stronger party, I won.
She curled up at the foot of the bed and stared at me with huge, mournful eyes.
‘I know,’ I muttered. ‘Life’s a bitch, isn’t it?’
