Prince Rainier
"Size…five and a half," says Crowley, analyzing the shoe from all directions. "Custom made, no tags. No print. No labels. Made for a ghost, it would seem."
"Or just a girl who doesn't want to be found," Father says, giving me a pointed glance as he chortles into his mimosa.
"How many of those have you had?" I ask him. "How many of those has he had?" I ask Crowley.
"Six or seven, can't be sure."
"Father it's barely noon," I say, reaching to take the flute from him. He burps in my face. Charming.
"I'm enjoying this," Father says, waving me off. "This search. Everything's been so boring lately. Boring. This is…fun."
"Glad to see someone finds my misery so amusing," I grumble as I sink in my seat.
"This sort of thing isn't cheap, I can tell you that," Crowley says, still holding up the shoe. "Foreign made. Probably Bavarian. You think she could be Bavarian?"
"Maybe by descent. She had no such accent," I say.
"Now I'd like to know what sort of family wouldn't have their daughter marry a prince," Captain Rhodes says.
"You're not alone," I say. "Am I not every woman's dream come true? Why the devil would she run from me?"
Father chuckles again. "Perhaps she doesn't approve of your modesty…or lack thereof."
"What's the point in false modesty?" I ask. "It's just another way to make ourselves look better…who needs to pretend when it's literally a fact?"
"Sir, I don't think that a secret search will get us any real results," Rhodes says. "Perhaps we ought to send word out to the public, let them know we're looking for this girl."
"Any girl in the kingdom could have dark hair, gray eyes and wear a size five and a half," I say.
"But only one could have the other shoe," Crowley says, handing the shoe to Rhodes. "That's how we'll do it. Take your men and head into the nearby towns. Start with Burke, Cecily and Amonta and work your way out. Search the homes, check with every family, leave no stone unturned."
"And what am I to tell people is the cause of this…search?"
"Tell them the shoe belongs to the future queen and was stolen," Father says instantly. "The last thing we need is to spread the word that my boy is going to marry a girl because of a shoe. Everyone will go making ones just like it and we'll have hell trying to sort through the pretenders."
Rhodes nods and tips his head, leaving Crowley and I to watch as Father pours himself another mimosa. If he didn't have such high tolerance he'd be on the floor by now.
"I can't wait to meet this girl for myself," Father says. "See what all the fuss is about."
"Perhaps she is already married?" asks Crowley. "Could that be why she ran?"
"No, she's not married," I say.
"Could she be promised to someone else? Arranged by her parents?"
"I can't imagine what arrangement she could be caught up in that I cannot undo," I say. "I'm the prince. What out there can I not give her?"
Father giggles. Giggles.
"Oh, take that jug from him," I say as Crowley pulls the drink away from his hands.
"You're a man now, Rainier," Father says to me. "But you're still a boy. A stupid, foolish boy. You think she'll fall into your arms like all the others?"
"Not all the others," Crowley murmurs in a quiet aside.
Father doesn't miss it. "Exactly!" he says, pointing at Crowley. "The only times you've ever actually considered being in love is when you're given a challenge. That Serena girl challenged you. That Bianca girl challenged you—granted you blew it both times—but still! You were never closer to being in love than you were with them—until now. Now you've slipped right off the edge, and let me tell you, my boy—it's dark down here in this deep, bottomless abyss. The darkest place you'll ever be in—but ou won't want to go anywhere else. But you're still a boy, still a fool, still think you can wave your royal wand and magic away your problems. So I'll let you in on a little secret," and he leans in close for me to hear this next bit. The mimosa on his breath makes my eyes water. "For some girls out there—a very rare few—being a prince isn't good enough. I know that because I was a prince once, and I was in love once, and being a prince wasn't good enough for her."
"What did she want, then? For you to forsake your inheritance and become a missionary?"
"Nope. All she wanted was a human being."
"And what am I, then?" I ask.
"A human being who acts like a God," Father swats the side of my head disapprovingly. How long has it been since he's done that? "You were kind and good to her and that might have caught her attention, but you're going to ruin all of that and I've watched you shit all over your chances twice before. I'll not be watching it again. You have one last chance to get a woman of true quality. God only ever gives a man three. She—this mystery girl—she is your last hope. So do yourself a favor and learn what I learned once upon a time: humility is your weapon. Not pride. If you want this girl to even consider having you, then you must first consider whether or not you're a person—not a prince—but a person who deserves to be had."
That does not make a single lick of sense to me, but I nod anyways.
I could buy her father a castle when I meet him. I'll waive the dowry. He'll probably love that. I'll make him a duke. Or a grand duke. The extra 'grand' in front of the title usually melts everyone in my favor. As for her mother, I'll buy her a castle as well. And a house next door full of ballgowns and jewels. And her…what will I give her?
When she's mine, what won't I give her?