by Paige Elwood
“That’s very astute of him,” Iva said. She paused. “I suppose if it would really help the university I could arrange a brief tour after hours.”
“Oh my gosh. The professor will be so pleased. Iva, you’re an angel!”
“You will need to be here at the castle at 6pm sharp tomorrow. You can have an hour to inspect them.”
“Perfect!” Sarah said.
Back at the hotel, Sarah settled into her room. She ordered a sandwich from room service and sat on the plush leather chair at the oak desk. She connected her laptop to the hotel’s surprisingly fast Wi-Fi and logged into her university's online library.
It was a long shot, but perhaps she would be able to find something about the mysterious Prince Max. The files that she'd copied in Ivor's office were scant. The majority of the information had been available on the display card, but there were a couple of additional pieces of information that piqued her curiosity even further.
The file said that Prince Max had disappeared shortly after his marriage to Princess Katherine of Boheme. Nobody ever saw the royal couple again, and they were presumed to have been murdered by bandits while traveling on their honeymoon. Sarah had never come across the idea of honeymoons in the 1400’s.
Very few artifacts had been found from the ex-royal family's reign. Only the portrait, the ring, and a few miscellaneous items could be verified as part of the dynasty.
Disappointed with the lack of information, Sarah put the file to one side and picked up the information on the secret passageways in the castle. This file had much more information, including a detailed map of where the original passageways led. They had been filled-in 300 years previously by a slightly paranoid king who thought his servant could use them to plot his demise.
A couple of them had since been excavated, but the majority had remained filled in to this day for safety reasons.
The passages had run all through the castle on both levels and provided ways to exit the castle in secret as well as moving from room to room. There were even secret rooms that could only be accessed through the passageways, although these were few in number and the chambers they led to were fairly small.
Sarah traced her finger along the lines of the passageways on the map in front of her. They felt strangely familiar, like she should recognize the pattern.
She wondered how they had been kept secret considering there were so many of them. She noted that there were eight different doors from the main castle that led to the passageways and three different exits out of the castle depending on which part of the passageways you entered.
Some of them were connected to each other with thin snaking lines, but not all of the secret rooms could be accessed from all of the passageways. She poured over the information in front of her, barely even tasting the chicken salad sandwich she’d ordered from room service.
When she’d exhausted the information in the files, she checked the university library. A search for Prince Maximillian brought up only a few fleeting references, and fragments of the diary of a castle handyman named Henry. Only the diary added any new information, and Sarah wasn’t sure it was accurate or talking about the same Maximillian. Mostly he referred to the prince as ‘Max,’ which would have been highly irregular for a lord, never mind a lowly handyman. He also mentioned on several occasions Max’s ‘work’ and ‘inventions’. Her academic training told her to dismiss this as unrelated evidence, but her gut told her it was relevant. She added it to a folder to read again later.
She glanced at the clock on the desk, which read 11:30pm. Her eyes were stinging and heavy, and her eyelids were beginning to droop. She gathered all of the papers together and put them in the desk drawer. She would visit the castle again tomorrow and see if she could discover any new information.
The previous day's travel and a long day walking around the city had taken its toll, and her eyes closed as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Sarah dreamed that she was running breathlessly through the secret passageways hand-in-hand with the tall, handsome prince from the portrait. There were running at quite a pace, and he was pulling her along by the hand. Her fingers were clasped tightly in his, the warmth of his skin against her own cool hands. She was struggling to keep up because something was restricting her. She glanced down to see billowing skirts and not her usual jeans.
The Prince came to a halt outside a door that she could barely make out from the flickering candlelight coming from the candle he held in his hands. He looked into her eyes and Sarah's breath hitched. “You must never tell anybody of this room," the Prince said.
Sarah smoothed her skirts with trembling fingers and nodded. The smell of damp stone permeated her nostrils. She met the Prince’s captivating cerulean eyes and nodded. His voice had a warm sincerity to it that made her instantly trust him. His broad shoulders and squared jaw matched the portrait that she had seen, but his clothing was slightly more casual.
He opened the small door and pulled Sarah into the room. It was a workshop of some sort with all kinds of strange contraptions littering the area beyond the workbench. He pulled the door closed and pulled Sarah to him. "I’ve been waiting all day to get you alone,” he whispered, and the warm breath tickled against her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
"Have you?” she said. "And why is that?”
“I think you know,” the Prince said, running one hand across her cheek and gazing intently into her eyes.
The ring that she wore on her finger was burning a little, but she couldn't tear her attention away from the handsome prince who stood before her.
His hand came to rest under her chin and tilted it up slightly. His other hand hooked around her waist, and he pulled her into him. He kissed her softly at first and then as the passion grew the kiss became deeper and deeper. His fingers dug slightly into her waist as he squeezed her to him.
His other hand moved into her hair, holding her tightly against him. Sarah was breathless. This kiss felt like a claiming. It was the most passionate kiss she'd ever experienced, and it awoke something within her that had never been disturbed before. Her own hands wandered across the Prince’s back, exploring the map of tightly coiled muscles beneath his tunic.
Finally, they broke for air, breathing heavily and gazing into each other's eyes.
“You've been waiting all day for that?" Sarah said.
The Prince nodded. “Well,” Sarah said, touching her lips. She could still feel the soft pressure of his own against hers. "I've been waiting my whole life for that.”
Sarah shocked herself with her own forwardness, but hey, this was clearly just a dream. And if you couldn't say what you wanted in your own dreams, then when could you?
Chapter 9
Max stifled a yelp as searing heat clawed at the back of his hand. The young servant girl pulled back the ladle quickly, a horrified expression on her face. Max gave her an almost imperceptible nod and surreptitiously wiped his soup-burned hand against his tights.
The servant smiled gratefully at him and moved quickly across to serve the Princess in a much steadier manner. This was the third time Max had eaten dinner with Princess Katherine’s parents alongside his own family. He enjoyed the company of her father, King Georgei, who was full of amusing anecdotes and was generally a jovial man. Unlike Max’s father, he could see the amusing side of almost anything. Also unlike Max’s father, Georgei’s kingdom was not under any immediate threat.
Max was certain that the Bohemian royal family were not fully aware of the threat hanging over Prague from King Benak. If they were, they would be unlikely to allow their daughter to marry the prince of a kingdom in peril. He hoped it wouldn’t become a problem and was determined to ensure that he kept his kingdom safe from any invading armies. His mind wandered back to his workshop and his latest invention. The prototype was almost finished, and he was excited to test it out. He’d need Henry’s help to do so, and somewhere with enough open space that was far away from prying eyes.
“Are you listening
?” Max’s father’s voice penetrated his daydream.
“My apologies, Father, I was lost in admiration for the delicious soup.”
“I was just explaining to King Georgei that we have managed to secure you and Princess Katherine the most esteemed tutors in all of the land.” He leaned forward and said in a low, conspiratorial voice, “And she’s a woman.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” Max’s mother said, clapping her hands together. “It will be nice to have some additional female company around the castle.” She glanced at Queen Elena and Princess Katherine. “Present company excepted, of course. You are both delightful.”
Queen Elena pursed her lips. Max didn’t think the Bohemian Queen was delightful company at all. Princess Katherine was, perhaps, although she was very quiet and reserved.
The two women simply nodded in acknowledgment and continued to eat. Queen Elena had the same pretty but dour expression that Princess Katherine often wore. Max was never certain if it was simply an unfortunate arrangement of facial features or genuine displeasure showing on the face of either woman. He watched Princess Katherine from the corner of his eye. She delicately spooned soup into her mouth with the refinement of a woman who has spent her entire life learning how to do everything with elegance and grace.
“Do we really need a tutor?” Max asked. “I’ve read every book in our library. Twice.”
“It’s tradition,” his father insisted. “It’s imperative that you both have an awareness of the rich cultural history and heritage of our great kingdom. If its own rulers don’t fully appreciate it, then how is anybody else supposed to?”
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the kingdom. It simply that I have no idea what a tutor can teach me that I haven’t already learned from reading it myself.”
“It isn’t simply for you. The tutor will also be providing tutelage to Princess Katherine.”
“But it’s not something I need,” Max said. How was he supposed to find time to build his inventions and attend tutoring? There was literally nothing the woman would be able to teach him. He’d read every book written about the kingdom.
“That may be,” his father said. “However, it is still tradition, and I insist that you attend all of the classes.”
“I think it’s a marvelous idea,” said Princess Katherine.
Max looked at her in surprise. It was rare that the Princess commented on anything, and he was particularly surprised to find that she was pleased to be tutored. He’d never even seen her read a book. In fact, he had absolutely no idea what the Princess liked to do for pleasure. Guilt filled him at the realization that he should probably know an awful lot more about his intended wife. He would have to rectify that before they got married.
“I’m sure I will learn something that I haven’t already read for myself,” Max acquiesced. “And it will be a pleasure to spend some additional time with the Princess.”
“Speaking of tradition,” his mother said. “The painter will be arriving this evening to begin your official betrothal portraits.”
Max’s heart sank. He’d planned to spend the entire evening finishing his prototype. He didn’t have time to spend posing for a portrait. What did he even need a portrait for anyways?
He was certain that creating a weapon that could prevent the kingdom from falling was more important than standing still for somebody to paint a useless picture of him. What good was an oil painting to a kingdom on the brink of war?
“I had rather hoped to go for a walk this evening,” he began. His mother gave him a disapproving look — something he was much more used to seeing from his father. “But of course, the portrait is important.”
This was so frustrating! How was he ever supposed to finish his invention if he was constantly attending royal appointments? He supposed he would just have to do it after the portrait. He could always say he had a headache after a few hours and retire to his chambers.
After dinner, Max joined his father and King Georgei in the solar for wine and discussion about royal duties and running a kingdom. This had occurred every evening since the Bohemian royal family had arrived. The men would retire to one solar, and the ladies to another. Max found it tedious and just another drain on time that could be spent building machinery that would actually be of benefit.
“I find that if you treat your subjects well, they are wonderfully loyal,” King Georgei was saying. “They often chase our carriage cheering if we go out into the towns and villages.”
“Sounds quite rowdy,” Max’s father said, taking a large gulp of red wine. Max sipped his own. It tasted sour on his tongue.
“Do you visit your own towns quite often?” King Georgei asked.
“Sometimes,” his father said. “Not so often recently, but there will be a wedding procession soon, of course.”
Max wondered what kind of reception their subjects would give the wedding procession. He suspected they would resent the money spent on the ceremony when they were being heavily taxed and didn’t understand why.
“I suppose running a kingdom is a much more pleasant task when that kingdom is in a time of peace,” Max said, thinking out loud. His father shot him a warning glare.
“What do you mean?” King Georgei asked, his brow furrowed.
Max shrugged. “I’ve just been reading a lot about wars recently. I think a king should always be prepared for war. The subjects that love you during the peaceful times may become your enemies when they have little food to fill their bellies.”
King Georgei’s face flushed. “Perhaps. But we’ve not had a war for centuries!”
“I know, neither have we,” Max said, technically not lying. “I just think it is prudent to be prepared.”
“Well, even in war, I think my subjects would appreciate my benevolent ruling style,” the King insisted.
The door to the solar creaked open, and the head of the King’s Guard stood in the doorway.
“Apologies, Your Highnesses,” he said. “The painter is here for Prince Maximillian.”
Max was actually grateful to be having his portrait painted rather than hearing for the hundredth time about the King of Boheme’s wonderfully loyal subjects. The painter had been set up in a small room to the left of the front room, very close to the nearest passageway that led to Max’s workshop. He still held out hope that he could get away early and sneak off to work on his latest invention.
Unfortunately, he had no such luck. When he finally complained of a headache, his mother, who had insisted on sitting and observing the painting, had fussed around him but insisted that he stay. “Surely it’s much better to get the portrait done in a few sittings as possible?” she said.
Max’s legs were aching from standing in the same position for so long. It was one of the most tedious things he’d ever done. When he was finally given his leave, he rushed out of the room, hoping to sneak off his workshop and get at least an hour or two of work done. But unfortunately, he bumped into Princess Katherine just as he was about to duck behind the wall covering and into the passageway. That was close. If she’d seen him enter the passageways and followed him it could have been disastrous.
“Princess Katherine,” he said, “it’s quite late, are you not sleepy?”
“I am a little sleepy,” the Princess said, her large brown eyes gazing into his own. “But I thought it might be pleasant for us to spend a little time together. We are to be married soon after all.”
“I agree. I’m sorry that my duties mean that we haven’t had as much time together as I would’ve hoped.”
The Princess gazed at him impassively, and so he said, “Perhaps we could arrange a chaperoned dinner tomorrow evening for the two of us?”
“I would enjoy that,” the Princess said with a smile that didn’t quite touch her eyes. “Perhaps you could walk me back to my wing?”
Max nodded. He’d rather she walked herself so that he could get to the passageways, but it would be ungentlemanly to refuse.
They walked side by side until t
hey reached the staircase to the guest wing. He expected her to ascend the stairs, but she paused, her eyes cast down to the floor. She looked up slowly, and Max was reminded how beautiful she was, with those amber-flecked eyes.
“I’m looking forward to having dinner tomorrow,” she said.
“Me too,” Max responded, taking her hand. He raised the back to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against the soft skin there. Her hand twitched, and for a moment Max thought she would pull it back, but she kept it there. When he looked up, she was wearing a soft smile.
“Goodnight,” the Princess said, turning and sweeping up the stairs, her skirts billowing out behind her as she went.
Max was lost in thought as he walked the familiar corridors of the castle back to his chambers. Hundreds of his ancestors watched him from somber oil paintings hung in ornate gilded frames along the walls.
As a child he’d found the paintings creepy, always seeming to watch him as he ran through the castle, often followed by a nanny terrified that his father would catch him running inside and blame her. Now, they simply seemed sad, watching the living walk through the castle while they existed only in their portraits, otherwise long forgotten. Soon, his own image would join them to disturb future generations of young princes and princesses.
He reached his bedchamber frustrated at his lack of progress with the Onager. He’d not even had time to get word to Henry that he couldn’t be there to work on it. Hopefully, tomorrow would be more productive.
The next morning, Max woke later than usual, the sun already high in the sky and blaring through the window. He jumped out of bed and hurriedly dressed. He had precious few days before the tutor arrived, and he had even less time to work on his inventions. He didn’t have a minute to waste.