I had now met all eight of the princes: the first prince, Jin Grandet, mature, charming, and flirtatious; the second prince, Chevalier Michel, cold, exacting, and severe; the third prince, Clavis Lelouch, a cunning trickster; the fourth prince, Leon Dompteur, kind and friendly, but an even match for Prince Chevalier during their frequent disagreements; the fifth prince, Yves Kloss, haughty and mercurial; the sixth and seventh princes, Licht and Nokto Klein, identical in appearance and opposite in every other way; and the eighth prince, Luke Randolph, the youngest and obviously the least mature. Princes Jin, Chevalier, Clavis, and Nokto were the ones I needed to be the most careful with, but at least I had an idea of what Princes Jin and Nokto were thinking. Prince Clavis, on the other hand, was unpredictable and clever, and I really hoped I wouldn't have too many interactions with him. Prince Chevalier…well, I was still trying to figure him out. At least I could count on the other four princes if I needed any help.
My morning walk to the palace was just as enjoyable as my evening walk home. The village was just waking up as the early morning sun began to shine. Neighbors called cheerful greetings to each other, walking to work or tending to chores. Giggling children scampered to and fro, thoroughly enjoying their games and how much they were annoying the mothers who were trying to get them to behave. It all seemed so idyllic, before the heat and dust and grime of the day took over.
And then, after a brief journey through the country, I reached the town. The streets were already busy as shop doors were unlocked and displays were put up. Street vendors were setting up their stalls, most of them selling unique items that could be found nowhere else. The smell of freshly baked bread drifted from bakeries, making my stomach growl. Horses were already hitched to carriages, their hooves clattering on cobblestone as they waited patiently in front of inns for any prospective passengers. The central square was full of street sweepers, tidying up around the large fountain in the center of the square. This fountain had fewer levels than the one in the palace gardens, but it was no less stunning, with its multiple streams of water erupting from the central pillar and cascading down to the pool below in a rush. One of the street sweepers was fishing coins out of the bottom pool.
The town fell away behind me as I started the climb up the hill to the palace. Here it was quiet. There were no carriages, no people bustling to and fro, just me, following the cobblestone road through a field of green, with the palace up ahead. The huge wooden doors at the gate were still closed, sealing me from the outer court. Guards stood at attention at the gate and along the walls above, evenly covering sections divided by multiple turrets. I was usually the first outsider to arrive in the mornings. The guards knew me and called greetings as they opened the doors, which would remain open until long after I left in the late afternoon. I crossed the outer court, paved completely with cobblestone and decorated with large basins of roses, to a servant's entrance off to the side, discreetly hidden by a strategically placed floral display.
The head maid caught me in the kitchens as I placed Prince Chevalier's breakfast order for pickup at nine o'clock.
"Sariel wants you in his office right away," she said brusquely.
"Why?" I asked, surprised.
"I'm sure I don't know," she snapped. "Maybe it's something to do with you gallivanting around with all the princes instead of doing your work."
Is that what she thought? Is that what the other servants thought? It was true that I was spending a lot of time with the princes, but that certainly wasn't my idea. I hadn't asked for their attention. I just wanted to be left alone to do my job. But there was no point in trying to argue with her about it, not at that moment, anyway.
"Where is his office?" I asked.
"I can show you," Theresa volunteered, emerging from somewhere among the crowd of cooks. She gave the head maid a winning smile.
"Go on, then. And see that she doesn't wander off. I don't need Sariel breathing down my neck because she's too flighty to follow simple instructions."
I followed Theresa out into the hallway, my pride stung by the head maid's angry words. We rounded a corner and Theresa burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?" I asked, looking over at her in surprise.
"Your face right now. You can handle Prince Chevalier, but not her?"
Her observation made me smile. "Well, when you put it that way, it is kind of silly."
"Don't worry about it. There's no way of pleasing her. If you never spoke to any of the princes at all, she'd probably be complaining about how rude you were to ignore them."
"I'll keep that in mind, thanks." I sighed. "What do you think Sariel wants?"
She shuddered. "I don't know, but be careful. He's the devil."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You'll see. His office is just up ahead. I'd better get back to work before the head maid gets on my case. Bye!"
She left in a hurry, clearly unwilling to linger in Sariel's vicinity any longer than necessary. I took a deep breath and knocked at the door.
"Come in," called a male voice, presumably Sariel. I entered with some trepidation, shutting the door carefully behind me.
He sat at his desk, his lavender eyes narrowed and sizing me up behind his glasses. Like Prince Leon, he had black hair and was dressed in black, but a single glance confirmed that he was very different in personality. There was something frightening about his thin smile. His black jacket, held tightly closed by gold fastenings, had a snakeskin pattern down the front. He sat with his elbows propped up on the desk, white cuffs peeking out just past the ends of his jacket sleeves, and he touched the tips of his black-gloved fingers together as he looked me over. And look me over he did, head to toe. An image of a snake measuring its prey flashed through my mind. I did my best to shut that image away and give him a smile of my own.
"My name is Ivetta. The head maid said you wanted to see me?"
"Sit down," he said. I did so, glad for the heavy wooden desk that separated us. Books, documents, and blank parchment were spread out in front of him, and large rolls of paper stuck out of a decorative pot to my left. The windows behind him were decorated with maroon and gold tapestries. On the central portion of the draperies, directly above his head, an open book was embroidered in gold. The red and gold carpet beneath me was plush and luxurious, but clearly, this office was not meant for comfort. Sariel took his work seriously. It made sense. How else could he have gained the position of the king's regent, except by hard work?
"Are you aware of the manner by which the next king is chosen?" he asked. There would be no small talk, then - he was getting straight to the point. Although what that point may be, I didn't know, and the odd question didn't do much to enlighten me.
"I've heard a bit about it, but I don't know much. I know it's not as simple as the oldest legitimate prince automatically inheriting the throne." If that were the case, Prince Chevalier would be the next king. It was a frightening thought.
"Correct. A commoner, a girl with a pure and beautiful heart, is given the title of Belle, and she represents the people and selects the next king."
Suddenly, I saw where this was going, and I didn't like it.
"The king is very ill, and it would be best if a new king were to be selected before he passes away. It has come to my attention that you fit the criteria of Belle." His frightening smile hadn't changed at all. He spoke as if it were an everyday thing for a maid to be chosen to name the next king.
"I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I can't accept such a role."
"And what could be more important than your duty to your country?" he asked, his smile widening and becoming even more dangerous. I could almost see a forked tongue slipping out of his mouth to taste me. But, as Theresa had reminded me, I could handle Prince Chevalier. Surely I could handle this devil, too.
"My mother is very sick, and I can't take on any more responsibilities that would keep me from her." I hated having to tell him, but I was fairly certain he wouldn't accept a lesser excuse.
"That will be no problem. You will both be moved here to the palace, and she will have a nurse assigned to her while you perform your duties as Belle." He removed his elbows from the desk, reaching for a blank piece of parchment and a quill. He was going to write the order now. How could I make him understand?
"Thank you, but I don't want to put her through the stress of moving her. Surely you can find somebody else."
"Your integrity only serves to reinforce what I've heard of you. Belle must be named now, and you have already met all the princes. I see no reason you should not take on this role." He was slippery and smooth, almost as difficult to handle as Prince Clavis. Almost. I wasn't giving up that easily.
"Perhaps you don't, but I do, and from what you've said, it sounds like the role of Belle is a voluntary position. If you still need a Belle later, when my mother is-" I stopped, the words catching in my throat. He dipped his quill in the inkpot. I swallowed the lump in my throat and continued. "My answer is no," I said firmly, standing up and heading for the door.
"Ivetta," he called sharply, stopping me in my tracks. I turned back to face him. He too had stood, and he was rounding the desk, coming toward me. The coat tails of his jacket were exceedingly long, ending just above his ankles, with slits up to his hips dividing plain black material at the back from snakeskin print at the front. A dark purple sash, similar to that worn by a priest, hung from his neck down to his ankles, meeting under his arms to form a sort of vest around his back. He wore black pants and black boots, and a series of black belts wrapping around his legs made it difficult to tell where exactly the boots ended.
"If I find someone who meets the criteria of Belle, I'll be sure to let you know. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm late for work." I made direct eye contact, refusing to allow him to intimidate me as he closed the distance between us. He came to a stop in front of me, far too close for comfort, but I held my ground.
"This conversation isn't over," he said quietly.
"It is for me. Goodbye." I turned and left, hoping he'd leave it at that, expecting him to grab my arm and stop me. Only when the door latched closed behind me was I able to let out my pent up breath.
I made my way to Prince Chevalier's room as my heart rate gradually returned to normal. He was still asleep, of course, an unmoving lump under the blankets. I shut the door slowly and quietly so the latch wouldn't click, and then I got to work.
"You're late," he mumbled. I looked over at the bed, startled by his voice. He'd pulled the covers down just enough for me to see his sleepy blue eyes.
"My apologies, your highness. I didn't mean to wake you."
He pushed the comforter back and stretched languidly. "And how is Four-Eyes this morning?"
Four-Eyes must be Sariel, but how did he know about my meeting with him? And why was he awake, anyway? He never woke easily.
"This was my first time seeing him, so I can't say for sure, but he seemed well enough, your highness," I said, swallowing down my questions and opening his drapes. Well enough to squeeze the breath out of me and eat me alive, I thought, as another unpleasant image flashed through my mind. "I'll be back in a moment with your breakfast." I turned to go, but he was sitting up on the edge of the bed facing me, just a few feet away, his icy blue eyes watching me intently.
"Will you be accepting the role of Belle?" he asked.
I swallowed nervously. He always got out on the other side of the bed. We weren't about to go through another bizarre scene like yesterday afternoon, were we?
"No, I will not, your highness."
"Good." He stood up and took a step toward me, my heart immediately pounding as he cut off my exit, but he only poked me lightly in the forehead with a teasing smirk.
"Prince Chevalier?" I asked, confused, but I didn't know what to say beyond that.
"My breakfast," he replied coolly, the smirk vanishing in an instant. He turned away and disappeared into the bathroom.
Why was he acting so strangely?
Whatever the case, he said nothing further that morning, and neither did I.