(continued from Part III | Act I | Act II | Part V)
A lot of things had changed after the Witch-Fiend's foiled attack on the castle. Security had been tightened; ramparts, fortified. Rooftop and other outdoor celebrations were, understandably, less frequent—and when they did occur, they were heavily guarded. No one was willing to take further chances considering just how close the capital had come to losing its beloved head of state. Even if the latter had come out the other side not only unscathed, but stronger.
The Prince's quarters, however, were not as lucky. The piles of haphazard objects strewn about the most important bedroom in the castle had seen little change once the dust had settled, save for a marked increase in sharp things and dirt. The pair of servants whose turn it was to tidy up tonight surveyed the damage, then got to work.
"I miss the princess days," said the first maid as she tied her hair back with a ribbon. "Before all this outdoor rough-and-tumble stuff."
"Mm?" said the second maid, wiping her glasses on her apron before putting them back on.
"Now don't get me wrong, the Prince is lovely and all, but I wish he'd put those new muscles of his to use picking up after himself. Especially considering how messy his new hobbies are." Ribbon maid grunted as she picked up a metal shield almost as long as she was tall, and balanced it on her shoulder. She walked around the central bed, loading up the makeshift tray with discarded weapons that the Prince had set down, no doubt just for a moment, before forgetting about them completely.
"Mm." Glasses maid followed her colleague, collecting the remaining piles into slightly neater piles before returning to the supply cart for a broom.
The door flew open, startling both women.
"Tell me about the lad," the Prince said as he briskly walked into the room, metal plates clattering over slim leather armor. "The one I'm supposed to give a commendation to." He took off his sword—scabbard and all—and handed it over as he walked to his desk. Glasses maid accepted the weapon, almost as long as she was tall, and stumbled over to the far wall to place it along with the others.
"Not a lad," Frederic said as he walked in. He stayed by the door, metaphorically keeping one eye on the Prince and the other on the hallway.
"Tell me about them." The Prince pushed the chair to the side with one foot and stood in front of the desk, sifting through the papers strewn about. With his free hand he pulled off the sweat-soaked headband he had been wearing, giving his dark messy hair a good shake.
Frederic took a deep breath. "Well," the knight began to say, looking up at the ceiling, "they're... new. But clearly with some experience, obviously. They were at the right place and the right time but were able to capitalize on it. Perceptive, too; the culprit was very familiar with the ins and outs of this castle and its guard rotations."
"When you put it like that, it makes me sorry I didn't get to deal with the criminal myself. Ah!" The Prince singled out a piece of paper from the mess, pulling it out. "There. I can meet them tomorrow morning after the merchants guild meeting. Give them a pat on the back for 'saving my life', as it were. What do they look like?"
Frederic blinked in surprise. "They look..." He cleared his throat. "Normal. Your Majesty."
The Prince's shoulders slumped as he looked over at Frederic, dumbfounded. He gave him a humorless smile. "Thank you Frederic, you've been a great help."
"Of course, Your Majesty," the knight replied with the faintest hint of a smirk. "Will that be all?"
The Prince returned his attention to the paper in his hand, finding a quill to fill in one of the last remaining empty spots. He waved the rest of them off halfway through the process. "Yes, you're all excused. It's late enough already."
The two maids hesitated, but with some subtle prompting by Frederic, both quickly finished what they had been doing and headed for the door.
"Ah," the Prince said, snapping his fingers. "You, Glasses. Come help me with this." He began to tug at one of the straps of his armor. "The rest of you can go."
The maid paused for the briefest moment, then nodded. By the time she had walked over to where the Prince was standing, they were alone in the room.
The Prince pinned the piece of paper with the forearm of his writing hand to free up one arm as the young lady helped unbuckle the outer layer of armor, plate by plate. One side done, he shifted the quill to his other hand, working uninterrupted as the metal piled up on the one empty corner of the desk.
The Prince stretched his shoulders and tugged at the collar of his shirt as the maid put the last piece of armor alongside the rest. He looked over. "This isn't keeping me safe."
She froze in place for a second. Puzzled, she began to inspect the metal plate in her hands, turning it over to get a better look.
"I wasn't talking about the armor," the Prince said as he closed the distance between them in a single step. He lifted her chin with his left hand—eliciting a gasp of surprise—and slipped his right arm around the small of her back, pulling her in.
He was no longer juggling multiple tasks at once; his full attention was on her now, and it was inescapable. There was no looking away; not from his face, his subtle smile, the burning intensity of his eyes. Her mind raced. Her pulse quickened. Blood rushed to her face.
He took off her glasses, leaned in close, and kissed her.
— end of preview
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