by Shea, K. M.
Servants and attendants swarmed the carriages as everyone stepped into their places for Clotilde’s first entrance into Brandis as its queen.
Mertein was there. Elise managed to grasp his hand and linger by him for a moment.
“You look stunning,” Mertein said, squeezing her hand.
“Thank you. I will be glad when the feast begins, though,” Elise said. “My cheeks hurt from all the smiling.”
“But it is such a happy occasion,” Mertein said.
“Yes,” Elise said, slow to agree.
“Fürstin, Fürstin! Here, your flute,” an attendant called, presenting Elise with the gold-leafed instrument.
Elise took the instrument with a smile. “Thank you,” she said, before turning to Mertein. “If you’ll excuse me, I had best get into position.”
“Of course. Will you save me a dance?” Mertein asked.
“With pleasure,” Elise said, extracting her hand and curtseying. She clenched the flute in her hands as she hurried up the stairs. She waited on the top stair with the rest of the royal family, stretching her fingers into the right position.
She was the only member of the royal family who played an instrument to a degree of expertise. As such, she was usually required to play on important days, like today.
“Everyone ready?” Steffen asked as the Arcainian flag—a white swan set on a background of black and gold—unfurled above them.
“I hate formal wear,” Nick complained. “We look like fairies, or a set of tiara brothers,” he said.
“Hush up, and smile,” Gabrielle said, straightening the Nick’s crooked circlet.
Only the king and queen of Arcainia wore crowns. All other members of the royal family wore artfully crafted metal circlets studded with gems…or, as Nick had called them, tiaras.
When King Henrik and Queen Clotilde started up the wide, sweeping stairs that lead to Brandis, Elise started playing her flute.
She played perfectly. The song was bright and cheerful. It was meant to sound like a welcome to the new queen, and it did even though Elise privately wanted to do everything but welcome Clotilde to Brandis.
Elise’s timing was exactly on, and she finished the song just as King Henrik and Queen Clotilde joined Elise, Gabrielle, and the princes on the top step.
In unison, the siblings bowed. “Welcome to Castle Brandis,” they said.
“Thank you,” Queen Clotilde said, removing her hand from King Henrik’s arm so she could properly embrace them.
Elise was near the end of the receiving line. She smiled her first real smile of the day when King Henrik kissed her forehead. “That was well played, darling,” he said before he moved on to speak with Gerhart.
Queen Clotilde was right behind King Henrik. She didn’t embrace Elise, as she did Elise’s foster siblings. “You and I have much to talk about, Fürstin,” she said.
“Oh?” Elise asked, still smiling.
“Yes. Henrik tells me you are the chief of the Treasury Department.”
“I am.”
“I wish to discuss Arcainia’s finances with you. Could you make time for me later this week?”
Elise kept her smile firmly in place. “Of course, my queen.”
“Thank you, Fürstin,” Clotilde said before she moved onto Gerhart.
Elise briefly felt for the golden key that hung from the red sash of her work uniform. It wasn’t there, of course, as she was wearing a new dress for the wedding.
Erick had guessed right. Clotilde unsettled Elise, but that wasn’t all.
Clotilde made her skin crawl.
Chapter 3
“I think we should have a race to see who has the fastest horse,” Nick said a sunny, spring afternoon as the royal family (or most of it) was sharing a horse ride at the request of the king.
“Only if Rune is banned from entering. He always wins,” Gerhart complained.
“Come on everyone, line up. Except for you, Rune. Gerhart is right. You spend too much time in the saddle, so you and your horse have an unfair advantage. Elise, you will join us, yes?” Nick said.
“Perhaps she doesn’t wish to join in this folly,” Falk said, lining his horse up with Nick’s.
“Nonsense. All of us royal siblings love horses and going fast. Come on, Elise,” Nick called.
“Elise, if I may have a word,” Queen Clotilde called.
Elise gave her foster brothers an apologetic look before she turned her mare in the direction of Queen Clotilde’s pony cart, for once not sorry to attend to her.
“Yes, Queen Clotilde?” Elise asked, directing her mare to walk next to Clotilde’s cart.
“Steffen, aren’t you joining us?” Nick called.
“Not on your life. It’s too unseemly.”
“Suit yourself. Will you make the countdown then?”
“As you wish. On the count of three. One…two… three!”
Clotilde waited to speak until Mikk, Nick, Falk, and Gerhart galloped off.
“I visited the royal vault yesterday. The guards would not let me inside even though I am the queen.”
“Please do not take it personally. They were following protocol,” Elise said.
“If the queen cannot visit it, who, then, can?”
“I can,” Elise said.
“And?”
“Only me, My Queen,” Elise said. She refrained from explaining that she could authorize anyone to visit the vault—the vault only held enough funds to keep the country running for a month, after all. Several members of the Treasury Department had the clearance to add and remove funds from the vault whenever necessary.
“I see. This is a rule you have made?” Queen Clotilde asked, her voice hardening.
“No. It was a royal decree Father made before he gave me the office of chief of the Treasury Department,” Elise said.
“By your Father, I take it you meant to say King Henrik?”
Elise swallowed the rage that bubbled in her throat. “Yes.”
“I see,” Queen Clotilde repeated.
“Did you have any other questions?” Elise asked.
“No, that is all. Good day, Fürstin.”
“Good Day, My Queen,” Elise said before nudging her horse forward.
Elise eagerly trotted ahead, joining Steffen. “Who won?” she asked.
“Falk, I think. His horse is a racer. We should catch up and find out,” Steffen said, discreetly glancing over his shoulder at Queen Clotilde. “What did she want?” he asked in a lowered tone as they left the new queen behind.
“She wanted to know why she couldn’t enter the vault,” Elise said.
Steffen whistled. “Not good. Does she know about the treasury?”
The treasury was the storehouse of royal treasure. Elise carefully built it up since the day she first took office. “No. I don’t think so, or she would have demanded to know why she couldn’t enter that too.”
“Let us keep it that way. We’ve spent too many years working towards expanding Arcainia’s monetary power to let a spoiled harpy ruin it now,” Steffen said, his voice and expression pleasant in spite of the hostility of his words.
“Prince, Princess!”
Elise and Steffen halted their horses, letting a courier on the back of a lithe horse overtake them.
“Where is Prince Rune?” the courier asked as his horse pranced in a circle.
“Further ahead. What is it?” Steffen asked, pointing to the glob of royal brothers and their mounts.
“A giant attacked one of the villages. Everyone is safe. The villagers fled to an army fortification, but the creature is flattening every structure in the area,” the courier said before he kicked his horse, which shot forward like flying bird.
“A giant,” Elise repeated. “Has there ever been a giant in Arcainia before?”
“I don’t think so. Not for a century at least,” Steffen said.
“There were hellhounds last week, and a pack of goblins two weeks before that. What is going on?”
Steff
en shook his head. “I’m not sure. But it is not a good omen.”
Elise hurried down the hallway, wincing when she heard a harsh, raised voice.
“Carful, Fürstin. She’s worked herself into a tizzy,” a washerwoman warned as she thumped down the hallway, carrying a load of clothes.
“It certainly sounds like it. Thank you,” Elise said, giving the washerwoman a brief smile before she rushed to the royal apartments.
Elise hesitated at the door. The shouts were coming from inside, and there was an expensive sounding crash as something shattered against the wall.
Elise knocked, and the door opened to her father. In spite of Clotilde yelling and pacing behind him, he had a pleasant smile. (Steffen had to inherit it from someone, Elise supposed.)
“Daughter, how good of you to join us,” King Henrik said.
“How may I be of service, Father?” Elise asked, dipping into a curtsey before she entered the royal apartments.
“My dear Clotilde has some concerns over her wardrobe.”
“I apologize, but I am not involved in the actual usage of goods. I only deal in their purchase,” Elise said.
“Yes, it is the financial aspect that seems to be the problem,” King Henrik said.
“Why must I have a budget for clothing? Would you have me dress like a peasant? Am I not sufficiently royal enough for you to concern yourself with letting me look presentable?” Clotilde demanded, twisting an expensive, imported paper fan in her hands.
“Not at all. Every member of the royal family has a budgeted amount for their clothing. We must be held accountable for our spending, My Queen,” Elise countered with a steady, pleasant voice.
“Then why is mine so little? Gabrielle is only the wife of the crown prince, and she is dressed better than I. I should dress like a queen, not like a…maid!” Clotilde said before carelessly tossing the fan.
Elise bit her tongue to keep from uttering a sharp reply. She very much wished she could tangle her hands in Clotilde’s pretty blonde hair and drag her from Brandis, kicking and screaming. The new queen was dressed in an expensive gown of lavender silk. She wore strings of sapphires and pearls around her neck and woven through her hair. To top off the look, her slippers were made of white silk and embroidered with real gold thread. No one in the royal family dressed so lavishly. No one but Clotilde.
“Princess Gabrielle’s wardrobe expenses are significantly less than yours. If you feel she is dressed better, perhaps you should ask who tailors her dresses,” Elise said.
“Do not lie to me. She wears jewels and gems of the likes I have never seen before,” Clotilde said.
“It is very likely that those jewels are her personal property. Before she married Steffen, she was the Marquise of Carabas. She still owns those lands and the wealth they accumulate. The Treasury Department is not responsible for her personal finances and how she wishes to use her income from Carabas. However, though I do not know Gabrielle well, I can assure you that she spends a great deal less on her wardrobe than you,” Elise said.
“Then why are visiting ambassadors dressed better than I? The ambassador’s wife from Loire is dressed how I should be dressed. I will not stand to be upstaged by an ambassador!”
“Again, My Queen, I am forced to remind you that I am responsible only for Arcainia. I do not busy myself with other country’s business and budgets,” Elise said.
“Fine. Then I want an increased amount for my wardrobe,” Clotilde said.
“It cannot be done,” Elise said without hesitation.
“You dare refuse me?”
“It is not a matter of refusal as much as it is a matter of balance. Arcainia cannot afford to spend more on your wardrobe,” Elise said.
Clotilde looked murderous.
“There, there, my dove. All is not lost. No matter what you wear, you look bewitching,” King Henrik cooed, placing an arm around Clotilde.
“I want more,” Clotilde said, folding her arms like a pouting child.
“If Elise says it cannot be done, then it cannot be done. But do not fret; I will give you some of my personal money for you to spend.”
“Why can’t you cut back spending in other areas?” Clotilde complained.
Elise swallowed, unwilling to answer.
“My children are, above all, trustworthy, my dove. They are doing their best for Arcainia. We must let them continue with their work,” King Henrik said.
“If that was all you wished to discuss, may I leave?” Elise asked.
“Yes, Elise, you may go. Thank you for your explanation,” King Henrik said, patting Clotilde’s hair.
Clotilde didn’t say anything, but she narrowed her nearly colorless eyes at Elise, and her fetching face turned ugly with the glare she gave her.
Elise curtseyed and hustled out of the room. When the door clicked shut behind her, she ran down the hall like a frightened rabbit.
She had just made an enemy out of Clotilde, and she wasn’t sure what the outcome would be.
“I think it is high time Fürstin Elise marries,” Clotilde announced several weeks later during the family breakfast.
Gone were the days when the royal family ate merrily with the rest of the residents of Castle Brandis. Since Clotilde had been crowned, she insisted they eat separately—with servants serving them on their finest plates of porcelain and gold.
Elise looked up from her eggs. “I beg your pardon?”
“I do not understand why you felt the need to take on a foster daughter in the first place, Henrik. With seven sons, a fosterling is hardly necessary. But as you have her now, it would be shameful to cast her out, and she may as well be of use after living off you for so many years. Marry her off to a foreign duke or baron who will pay handsomely for her,” Clotilde said.
Nick slammed his fist on the table. “You cannot be serious,” he said.
“You seem to misunderstand, My Queen, Elise’s relationship with our family,” Steffen said, his eyes crinkled in his ever present smile after he shot Nick a warning look. “Officially Elise is a foster daughter, yes. But she is for certain a part of this family. She is my treasured sister, and I am not quite willing to part with her yet, nor would I ever wish to see her marry outside of Arcainia.”
“No matter if she is a foster daughter or not, it is the duty of female royalty to marry. Soon no one will want her, and she will be too old to marry. And what better way to spread Arcainia’s influence then to send her off to another country to fortify friendly relations? You understand what I’m saying, don’t you, Henrik?” Clotilde simpered.
“Fürstin Elise is the head of the Treasury Department. There are none who can replace her at this time, My Queen,” Mikk stiffly said, as if the admission pained him.
“Regardless of her marriage, she must be replaced. It is shameful for the children of monarchs to work like, like peasants,” Queen Clotilde said.
“Do you mean to imply we all should retire from our positions in Arcainia’s government?” Steffen asked.
“Yes, I do.”
“While your feelings are sweet, My Queen, they are perhaps too idealistic,” Gerhart said with a charming smile, although his eyes had the look of a viper in them. “If the royal family is not working to direct the country, it will fall into ruin. While people tend to overestimate Elise’s role in the country, I am forced to admit that she does fill a necessary function.”
“Sweetling, are you alright?” Falk murmured to Elise, who was leaning back in her chair.
Elise stared wide-eyed at her plate, hearing the conversation but not able to respond. It was nice to know that Clotilde had managed to bring the royal siblings together—Gerhart and Mikk never would have spoken on Elise’s behalf if they didn’t hate Clotilde just as much as everyone else in Brandis.
Even so, Elise’s heart heaved in her chest.
Clotilde was going to do everything she could to get rid of her, and her foster brothers wouldn’t always be around to protect her. One day Clotilde would succeed, a
nd all of Elise’s work, everything she did to prove she was even a little bit worthy of the honor King Henrik and Queen Ingrid had bestowed upon her would be wasted.
Queen Clotilde shook her head and fixed a poisonous smile on her lips. “The bottom line is that as her foster parents, it is up to Henrik and I to decide what is best for her. Henrik, you must believe that I have the best interests of Arcainia and Elise at mind. We will announce her availability—,”
“No.”
Clotilde twisted her neck to stare at King Henrik. “What?”
“No, Elise will not yet marry. Nor will I see her cut from this family,” King Henrik said. His voice held a hint of the rough iron and rock that he used to possess…before he met Clotilde.
“Henrik, dear, you must trust me. As a man you do not understand, but as a woman and her foster mother I—,”
“Elise’s foster mother is Queen Ingrid. You have unfortunately inherited my rowdy sons, but Elise is Ingrid’s legacy. She is Fürstin, the head of her own household. She may marry if she wishes, but no one in this family will ever force her to,” King Henrik said.
Everyone at the table was silent.
Elise’s foster brothers stared at their father with something like hope, and Elise bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying as she raised her eyes to meet King Henrik’s eyes.
They were clear and heavy with…expectation.
Elise looked to Clotilde, who was gawking at King Henrik as if she had never seen him before. When she turned to look at the rest of the royal children, her eyes zeroed in on Elise. Her lip curled back in a sneer, and she clenched her crystal wine glass so tightly, she made it crack.
“Dove, your glass has cracked—careful now. I wouldn’t want to see your beautiful skin marred. Serving maid, would you procure a new glass for the queen? Thank you,” King Henrik said, his moment of steel and steadiness gone. His voice and mannerisms were back to their doddering ways.
Clotilde did not respond to Henrik, and she kept her eyes on Elise.
The matter wasn’t over yet. Clotilde would not take a loss.
A few weeks before summer, the royal princes and princesses of Arcainia assembled outside the throne room.