Chapter Text
Rowan Villeneuve, Capitaine of the Royal Guard, had known from the second Kit spent the whole ride home from the hunt gushing about the mysterious girl he’d met in the woods that the next few weeks would prove interesting. He’d known from the second the girl had vanished from the ball leaving only a glass slipper in her wake that she would not rest until the girl was found. And he’d known, as both Captain and Kit’s friend, that he would put all his own efforts into aiding with the search.
The search for the Mystery Princess had not been an easy one. The Royal Guard had spent over a week now trudging from village to village, dealing with every spinster, maiden and matchmaking mama in the Kingdom, and weariness had long since set into Rowan’s bones. The search had not borne fruit, and he was getting worried. Worried for the girl; for Kit; worried too about the Grand Duke’s increasing air of satisfaction.
Tired he may have been, but his mind was sharp and as he rode on he pondered what he knew.
Rowan had only seen the girl from a distance, that time in the woods; she had been a small slip of a girl – too thin, and in a dress covered in cinders – but though she appeared a servant, her comportment betrayed her as a girl of genteel upbringing. Rowan had been hard pressed to hide his amusement as Kit related the story of having been mistaken for a mere apprentice. For the Prince, their short conversation had been more than enough to reveal to Kit a beautiful and intelligent young woman with courage and kindness at her core.
But this raised questions.
Why, he thought, if she had been raised by a noble family, was she now a servant in her own home?
How, if she was indeed a servant, had she been able to attend the ball in such finery?
And why, when she had seemed to take the reality of her “Mr. Kit” being His Royal Highness The Prince in her stride, had she fled the ball so suddenly, merely because the clock struck twelve?
Then there was the question of the glass slipper itself and the circumstances of its discovery. The Grand Duke had claimed it was found shattered by the side of the road, and then used it with remarkable efficiency to obtain Kit’s promise to marry the Princess Chelina of Zaragoza if the girl could not be found. At the ball, the Duke had told him that he had already promised the Prince in marriage to the Princess Chelina, and it was clear to Rowan now that the Duke was doing everything to ensure that he could keep a promise that he should never have made. Discovery of the Mystery Princess would make all his machinations for naught.
The Duke’s wording to the new King had been subtle. The Grand Duke would spare “no effort” to prove to Kit that the girl could not be found – it wasn’t the same as promising to spare no effort to find her, and of course so far, she had not been found. It was all a little too convenient. Rowan had not reached the exalted position of Captain by being stupid and blind, although the Grand Duke seemed to believe otherwise.
Rowan realised that he should have been open with Kit about these thoughts long before now, but that could not be helped. Time was running out but his mind was made up: he would not allow Kit to be manipulated into marrying other than for love if he could help it. This girl was clearly the love of Kit’s life. Ergo, as Kit’s friend, he would do what he could to ensure that the two were reunited. And further, as Captain of the Royal Guard and a gentleman, he felt duty bound to ensure the girl’s safety – and he had a sinking feeling that her present circumstances were not at all safe.
Having decided he had to do something, it was clear that with the Grand Duke getting in the way, there was only one person in the Kingdom who could help him do it.
That night, under cover of darkness, Rowan got up with stiff, creaking bones and, willing his mind to ignore how saddle-sore he already was, he remounted his horse and slipped out of the camp. As soon as he was sure that the sound of his horse’s hooves would not be overheard, he galloped hell for leather back towards the castle.
Not wanting anyone but Kit to know of his unexpected visit, he took the long way around in reaching the Royal Apartments, using servant passages and unused corridors he and Kit had discovered as boys to reach them unnoticed.
“Kit!” he hissed, knocking on the door in a special pattern they’d established as children.
The Royal Guard had been out hunting for the Mysterious Princess for two weeks now, and with every new day that passed without news, Kit’s mood had grown more sullen. He knew he was being too curt with his advisors and the serving staff, but he could not help it. Why had the girl not been found? Did she not want to be? Or was she being prevented from presenting herself at the palace?
He sat moodily by the fire, swilling whiskey around in a glass but drinking little of it. Staring into space, he replayed every moment of his two meetings with the girl in his head. She had been so very lovely. If he really thought about it, he thought he could imagine the softness of her touch, and the delicate scent of lavender that she seemed to leave behind wherever she went.
“Kit!” he thought he heard his name, confirmed by a knock to the door – Rowan’s knock. He put the whiskey glass down on a small table next to his chair with just a little too much force, and the amber liquid splashed a little over the lip of the glass onto the mahogany, but he didn’t notice. He sprang to the feet and wrenched the door open with a haste and eagerness befitting a puppy rather than an anointed King.
“Rowan!” he exclaimed delightedly as he did so, “is she – have you?” he started to ask, but quickly fell silent at the look on his friend’s face. “No, of course not. Come in, my dear friend, and settle yourself by the fire. What news?”
Rowan took not even a second to appreciate that this was the first time in a week he’d sat down in any comfort. “No, we’ve not found her yet, Kit, I’m sorry” he said in hushed tones. “Is there anyone else around?”
Kit shook his head and lowered his voice to match Rowan’s. “I sent my valet to bed and the night maid finished her duties not long before you got here. Not just anything would bring you here at this time of night, Rowan – what can I do to help?”
For all his princely manners, Kit was a true and loyal friend. Rowan allowed himself a brief smile at the trust Kit was automatically bestowing in him, and scrubbed a tired hand over his face, feeling the stubble growing there and wondering how to phrase his concerns.
“We’ve not found her yet, Kit,” he said again, “and I’m, uh – concerned that the reason we’ve not found her yet is that the Grand Duke doesn’t want us to.”
Kit’s eye narrowed as he sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. There was a pregnant pause.
“Zaragoza?” he asked, not needing a push to make the logical leap.
Rowan inclined his head. What he had to say next would be a bitter pill for Kit to swallow. “When we were at the ball, the Duke told me outright that he had promised you in marriage to the Princess Chelina.”
Kit paled in anger. “Why is this the first that the groom is hearing about this, Captain?” he asked in frigid tones.
Rowan flushed and changed his form of address. “I should have been open with you before now, Your Majesty, and for that I apologise.” He didn’t really know why he’d never spoken of this to Kit. Offering false excuses would help him not at all.
Kit observed him for a moment. “Is there anything else that I should have been informed of?”
Rowan spoke for a long time of his observations of the Duke’s behaviour at the ball; of the lady who had overheard their conversation; of how convenient it was that the slipper had been discovered and taken to no less a person than the Duke himself; and of the nuances of the Duke’s promise to Kit that he would prove the girl could not be found. At the last revelation, Kit stood abruptly, tension evident in every line of his body, angry that he had missed this hidden manipulation.
Rowan finished, hoarsely, just as the clock struck one. Kit poured him a glass of whiskey and reclined back into his chair silently. Rowan took a sip of his drink and watched the man in front of him. Kit’s face was flickering almost imperceptibly as he took in everything that he had been told. Kit had a very circular way of thinking that made him quite gifted at coming up with solutions to complicated puzzles, so Rowan was curious to see what plan he would come up with now.
They sat there for a long time, and Rowan had almost dropped into a drowse when Kit finally broke the silence.
“You can’t confront him, it would be too easy for him to override you.” he said slowly, clearly on the precipice of an idea but needing to puzzle it out aloud.
Rowan agreed.
“And we don’t actually have any kind of hard evidence,” Kit continued .
Rowan nodded again.
Kit smiled. “The King can’t go either. If the King is there, he’ll change tack altogether.”
Rowan agreed to this too, and Kit looked at him expectantly, rolling his eyes when Rowan clearly didn’t follow his reasoning quickly enough. “Do I usually refer to myself in third person? I said the King can’t go. So I don’t propose to go with you as the King. We’ll get a spare Guards uniform, and I’ll ride back with you to the camp tonight. Then, in the morning I’ll ride out with you as normal on the search and observe the Grand Duke myself.”
Rowan felt his role as friend subside for a moment, and Captain of the Royal Guard ride to the fore in its stead.
“Your Majesty, no! You can’t just ride out unprotected, it – ”
“Come now, Rowan!” interrupted Kit, with an edge to his voice that reminded Rowan where he was. “I won’t be unprotected, will I? I’ll literally be surrounded by a detachment of the Royal Guard!” He clearly had the bit between his teeth and a look on his face that made it clear to Rowan that he would not be dissuaded from any plan of action that he thought might help him find the Mystery Princess.
Rowan’s mouth twisted. “I don’t like it,” he said, but he offered no further objection.
Kit saw his victory, and flashed a satisfied grin. “You don’t have to like it. But your complaint is duly noted.”
Rowan contemplated the idea again. He supposed it did make sense – the Grand Duke would not stand down from his plans unless confronted by anyone other than the King himself and to do that, Kit would have to see for himself the kind of obstructive behaviour the Duke had been deploying at each stage of the search so far. His own men would notice the sudden addition, though, and he’d have to brief a few of his most trusted to ensure the secret was kept. And of course, there was still the question of what they’d need to do if they actually found the girl.
The thought must have flashed across his face. Kit caught it before he could bite it back.
“You’re wondering what we will do when we find her.”
Rowan shrugged, aware that Kit had been so tense in the last few weeks that no one had yet had the courage to suggest to him that the young lady in question might not want to be found.
Kit sighed, suddenly looking much older than his age and very, very tired. “I talked to my father about her, you know. The night he died.” He swallowed, mouth twisting in a private moment of grief, and Rowan looked away, heartsick for his friend. “I hadn’t realised, but she met him at the ball.” Rowan looked his surprise, and Kit found a shadow of a smile. “She charmed him as quickly as she did me.”
“Instantly?”
Kit laughed, and reached out to swat his friend on the shoulder. “He told me to follow my heart and find the forgetful one who loses her shoes.”
Rowan suddenly understood. Kit was noble – if the lady did not want Kit, or the trappings of royalty, he would withdraw. But he was a passionate soul, and he had to at least try. He stood up abruptly, ignoring how the warm fire and good whiskey had done nothing to mitigate the protests of his joints.
“Come on, then. We have to find you a uniform.”
Kit’s eyes gleamed.