The Princess Search: A Retelling of The Ugly Duckling (The Four Kingdoms Book 5)

by Melanie Cellier

  “This sounds too big for you or me,” I said. “Would you come talk to the prince? Tell him your story?”

  The boy shook his head and began backing away into the crowd of tents. “Talking to royalty? Surely you know better’n that. Urchins don’t stay out of trouble by mixing with royalty.”

  I tried to protest, but he had disappeared behind a stretch of canvas.

  I had almost forgotten the treasonous talk from the morning while I was busy sewing. But it seemed my dilemma had been solved for me. I couldn’t keep what I had heard from the royals now.

  Chapter 4

  Night had fallen, however, and despite their assurances of friendship, I couldn’t imagine what would happen if I tried to gain entry to any of the royal tents in the dark. My news would have to wait for the morning. After my almost nonexistent sleep the night before followed by a full day’s work, I could barely keep my eyes open to track down the steward. I eventually found one of his assistants and learned that I had actually been remembered this time. My assigned cot was in a shared tent with several other young women, and I collapsed gratefully onto the bed that someone had kindly assembled for me.

  I didn’t even stay awake long enough to worry that I might have nightmares and call out in my sleep, disturbing the other inhabitants of the tent. And, indeed, I turned out to be so tired that I slept without stirring until the rising sun woke me in the morning. The other women had already departed, their cots left neat and tidy, so I did my best to straighten up my appearance and follow them. Someone had delivered my personal bag to the tent at some point which made the task a great deal easier.

  I joined a line for porridge and ate quietly, standing among a group of strangers. As soon as I had scraped the last morsel from the bowl, I went back to my work site of the day before. Most of my assistants had already assembled and begun work, and I greeted them with a pleased smile. Most called back greetings of their own, though no one spoke of a good morning. How many days or weeks would it be before one of them forgot for long enough to issue the traditional salutation?

  Once I had seen they had no need of me, I reluctantly turned my steps in the direction of the royal tents, easily recognizable from the flags that flew above them. I would have much preferred to spend the time sewing, but I couldn’t put off delivering my intelligence any longer. I wasn’t sure how much good it would do, when I didn’t even know the name of the man in question. But I only had to picture Frederic’s face to know he would want all the information he could get.

  Thankfully I found both princes outside their tent, saving me from the task of convincing the guard at the entrance to let me through.

  “Evie,” said Frederic, a small movement almost like a smile touching his mouth. I bobbed a quick curtsy.

  “My brother has told me of your excellent work,” said Cassian. “We thank you.”

  “You are the ones who brought me here and who pay both my wage and the cost of the blankets, so the thanks are truly owed to you.”

  “A gracious thought,” said Cassian with an inclination of his head.

  I took a deep breath. “But I haven’t come to discuss clothes, I’m afraid. I have something rather unpleasant to impart.”

  Frederic’s eyebrows lowered as he examined my face. “In private, perhaps?”

  I nodded reluctantly. It didn’t seem like the kind of conversation to have where anyone might overhear.

  “What’s that?” A bright young voice spoke from just behind me before Celine popped into view. “A private conversation? My favorite kind!” She smiled sweetly at her brothers. “You weren’t planning to leave me out, were you?”

  Frederic weighed her with his eyes. “No, indeed,” he said at last. “I suppose you had better join us.”

  Celine smiled with satisfaction and led the way into the tent shared by the two princes. Cassian followed while I hung back, ready to enter last. But Frederic held the flap open for me with a courtly gesture, so I gave him a small smile and entered the structure.

  “You know, I’m surprised the Duchess of Sessily isn’t with us,” Celine was saying to Cassian. “It’s almost as if Father thinks we’re safe to be let out without our minders.”

  Frederic, coming in behind me, raised his eyebrows. “Somehow I don’t think it was you he felt didn’t need a minder.”

  She glared at him and then sighed. “No, I suppose you’re right.”

  I knew the duchess’s name, although I had never seen her in person. She was almost as well known in Lanover as the king, her shrewd negotiations often turning treaties in our favor. I had also wondered if she might be sent along on the Tour. Perhaps Celine was right, and King Leonardo intended to test the abilities of his children. Of course, that didn’t mean none of the old guard were included. We dragged a bevy of older nobles with us since their ties throughout the kingdom would be of value to the young royals.

  “Still,” said Celine, brightening, “we’ll have more fun without her one way or another.”

  “Is fun all you think of, Celine?” asked Cassian, with a significant look toward the tent flap.

  “No, of course not,” she said quickly. “This whole situation couldn’t be more awful.” Her face fell into such a woebegone expression that I wanted to go over and put my arm around her shoulders. But I didn’t quite dare. I hadn’t forgotten the sight of her the day before weeping over the infant, and I hoped her brothers understood that she joked and made light of things so she wouldn’t cry. It was a strategy I had used many times myself.

  Frederic ignored his siblings, focusing instead on me. “What is it you wanted to tell us, Evie?”

  Three pairs of royal eyes trained on me, and I gulped.

  “It’s something I overheard yesterday. And then something one of the townsfolk told me.” I quickly relayed the way the unknown man had attempted to rile the crowd—downplaying my own involvement—and then repeated the story shared by the street urchin.

  “What?” gasped Celine. “You mean…”

  Cassian ran a hand over his chin, his eyes hooded and thoughtful.

  Frederic rocked back, his face paling a shade. “Could you point out the man in a crowd, do you think?”

  “I…” I chewed the inside of my cheek, wanting to say yes but not sure in all honesty if I could. A lot had happened the day before, and I had been running on very little sleep. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

  “I think we need to talk to this boy,” said Cassian. “Not that I don’t trust your recounting, Evie, but I would like to assess his character for myself. Did he look the type to make up such a story just for mischief?”

  Here I felt myself on surer ground. “No. I didn’t get that impression at all. He seemed grateful for the assistance you brought. I think he wanted to repay you the only way he could.” I took a breath. “I believe him to be a street urchin, Your Highnesses. He probably isn’t used to gifts of clothes or food. And they have a strict honor code, for all it differs from that of an ordinary citizen. If they incur a debt, they will balance it, as well as they are able.”

  “Hmmm…” Cassian looked skeptical, but Frederic weighed me with an all-too-knowing look. My eyes fell away as I fought to keep a flush from rising up my face. I reminded myself that he knew nothing of my past.

  “But…what does it mean?” asked Celine, seemingly less concerned about the source of the information. “Ringing the alarm bell early doesn’t seem like the work of an arsonist.”

  “An entire town burned,” said Frederic. “And if it happened at the speed this boy claimed—a story that aligns with other comments I have heard about the fire—then it must have been the work of a large team of arsonists, all standing ready to act in unison.”

  Cassian met his brother’s eyes. “A team who wanted the town to burn, not the townsfolk.”

  “Could the bell-ringer have been a rogue arsonist?” asked Celine. “One who had a last-minute change of heart?”

  I frowned. “He didn’t exactly seem the type for that when he was ril
ing the townsfolk to anger.”

  “Dead people cannot be whipped into a fury against the crown,” said Frederic softly. “And they cannot spread out looking for new homes in other towns, taking their anger and hatred with them.”

  “Perhaps they bargained on Father not sending help,” suggested Cassian. “Perhaps they thought we would continue with the Tour and send only a small contingent here.”

  “If so, they bet wrongly,” said Frederic, steel in his voice. “Which shows they don’t know us at all.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes. “I didn’t expect it to start so early. All the other talk came from the south…”

  “It seems Father has some wiles left in his old mind, after all,” said Cassian wryly. “Apparently no part of the kingdom is safe.”

  “No.” Frederic sighed. “For all the assistance we have offered here, if the Tour is trailed by disaster, it won’t help our standing in the kingdom.”

  Celine hopped up from her seat. “We’ll just have to be on the alert, then, and make sure no more danger finds our people.”

  Cassian and Frederic exchanged a look that was all too simple to read. If only it were that easy.

  At the princes’ request, I tracked down the Medellan urchin to ask if he could point out the rebel arsonist to me. But after thoroughly searching the survivors, he returned to inform me the man had disappeared.

  I could read the disappointment in Frederic’s and Cassian’s eyes when I reluctantly passed on the information. Neither of them spoke any recriminations, but my insides roiled anyway. For all I knew, the man might have disappeared immediately after our confrontation the first morning. But perhaps he had not. Perhaps if I had gone to the royals as soon as I heard the urchin’s story…

  But there was nothing I could do about it now.

  The Tour stayed for two full weeks in Medellan, longer than we would have done in normal circumstances. We helped dig graves and wept with the local people through each simple burial ceremony. And we each contributed what skills we could to helping those who remained.

  Frederic refused to leave until the townsfolk had been provided for, so instead of visiting the surrounding towns, those communities sent delegations to us. Some of the people from Medellan were unsuited to life in tents, and the visitors discussed arrangements with the royals, both for housing these individuals, and for sending workers and tools to help rebuild the town.

  I had no business with the delegations, so I returned to my work with the blankets, wishing that every problem could be solved with a needle and thread. On the third day, the steward appeared and re-directed us to a comfortable tent without walls. The roof kept the sun off our heads, but the open sides allowed plenty of light in for our work. Someone had even found a couple of long wooden tables and benches, and I could see from their faces that my team appreciated the change.

  On the fourth day, several large bags of old shoes, in a range of conditions, arrived at the sewing tent. Apparently, we had been designated as the center of the town’s re-clothing effort. The mayor’s wife followed close behind and somehow talked me into overseeing the distribution of the boots and shoes that had been donated from the capital. By the end of two full days of shoe fittings, I was more than grateful to return to sewing. For every thankful recipient, there had been an unhappy one who claimed their new boots didn’t fit or who felt they deserved a better quality pair than they had been given.

  On the sixth day, just before we ran out of material, a pile of new bolts arrived in a variety of materials. Their quality was inferior to the wool of the blankets, but they were serviceable and, given the heat, I was glad to have some lighter materials to work with.

  Celine stopped by most days to sit for a few minutes with the girls and chat. And even Frederic came by once to thank them all gravely for their efforts. The lunch bell rang while he was with us, and he insisted on walking me to the closest kitchen tent to collect our meals.

  “How are you liking your new workplace?” he asked. “It seems superior to the bare ground at least.”

  I looked at him sideways. “I suppose I have you to thank for it. It’s very considerate of you.”

  “We are truly grateful for your efforts.”

  “In that case,” I said, matching his grave tone, “I do think you might have tried a little harder. Some silken cushions would have been nice. Those benches are hard, you know! And perhaps someone to fan us while we work? It may only be spring, but it is already far too hot.”

  He blinked and regarded me with astonishment, seemingly lost for words.

  “That would be a joke, Frederic,” said Celine, appearing from nowhere just as we joined the line for food. “You’re almost as hopeless as Cassian.”

  “Oh, surely not,” said Frederic, with a slow grin. “No one could be as bad as that.”

  “And there he goes making a joke now,” said Celine to me. “You can hardly tell with this one, he’s as bad as Mother. Most of the time he’s so placid you think every joke or witticism has gone over his head, and then he comes out with one of his own, just as straight-faced as he says everything else. At least he’s not as bad as Cassian. He’s so reserved and detached I despair of ever finding a girl who could attract him, let alone one who would actually be interested in him back.”

  She sighed and then flashed me a cryptic look that filled me with dread. What mad notion had lodged in her head?

  Someone handed us each a plate of food, and a voice called for Frederic’s attention. As soon as he turned away from us, Celine whisked me away to a secluded corner where we perched to eat somewhat awkwardly on an old log.

  “I am not one to admit defeat lightly,” she announced between bites, “but I think the task before me might be too great for even my talents. At least alone.” She grinned at me. “Which is where you come in. Evie, I need your help.”

  I knew her well enough at this point to regard her warily. “With what? Or would I be better off not asking?”

  She laughed. “Nothing terrible, I assure you. In fact, if we can manage this right, we’ll probably earn the undying gratitude of my parents.”

  My consternation grew. I had no desire to come to the notice of the king and queen again, except perhaps as an excellent choice of seamstress for the queen’s future dresses. “Is there an option to decline?”

  “Evie!” Celine grasped my arm. “You wouldn’t leave me alone in my hour of distress? I thought you were my friend, now!”

  I regarded her through narrowed eyes. “You don’t look distressed.”

  She laughed again and resumed eating. “Terrible, terrible distress, I assure you. The thing is, all my sisters have gotten married and moved away.”

  My heart immediately softened toward her, even as I dreaded whatever came next.

  “And, so, you see. I need some new sisters.”

  “New sisters? What…oh.”

  “Exactly.” She used her slice of bread to clean the remnants from her plate. “Frederic and Cassian are the oldest, and it’s beyond ridiculous that neither of them is married yet. I suppose with so many younger siblings, no one felt the need to pressure them into producing heirs, but things have gotten entirely out of hand at this point. Think how much fun I might have with an adorable little niece or nephew, or two. They won’t do me any good off in Northhelm. Or Rangmere, for that matter, since the latest rumors tell us Clarisse is being courted by a nobleman there. Not that poor Clarisse doesn’t deserve a bit of happiness after her awful first husband.”

  She shuddered. “If they had tried to marry me off to Prince Konrad, I would have run away. And I’m sure I should have been quite justified to do so—I can’t see that anyone much has mourned him. But for all I’m glad for her, it does seem ridiculous that Clarisse is widowed and about to marry a second husband, when her own twin hasn’t even managed a single romance his entire life.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Not that I can imagine who would want to be romanced by Cassian. But he is a perfectly respectable prince, so there must be
someone. Somewhere. And that’s where you come in.” She turned to me. “I’m fairly certain that my parents had a secondary purpose in this Tour. I think they’re hoping that Frederic will find himself a wife.”

  She discarded her plate on the ground and pulled up her knees, wrapping her arms around them. “Not that they precisely asked me to assist, but clearly Frederic can’t be left to his own devices in such a matter. And it seems far too good an opportunity to go to waste for Cassian, either. And he needs all the help he can get. So it seems to me the task has fallen to us.”

  I choked on my mouthful. “Us?” I managed to wheeze out once the coughing fit had subsided.

  “Yes,” said Celine, ceasing her enthusiastic whacking on my back. “That’s what I said at the beginning. I’m conceding the need for assistance. Together I’m sure we will be up for the challenge.”

  I regarded her with astonishment. Had she lost her mind? She wanted me—a common dressmaker with no family or connections—to assist her in directing the love lives of the two oldest Lanoverian princes. My mind flashed back to my earlier jest at Frederic’s expense, just as if he were not the crown prince. Perhaps I had already lost my mind, and she merely recognized a fellow lunatic. Yes, that must be it.

  “Celine, I really don’t think—”

  “Excellent, then,” said Celine loudly. “That’s settled.”

  Chapter 5

  My team, which had grown after new needles arrived from one of the neighboring towns, had used all the material by the time the Tour broke camp. We left many of our tents in place for the displaced townsfolk, new ones from the capital having arrived to replace those we had given away. I had grown more than sick of the simple sewing patterns by then and was relieved to be on the move again. I also longed, a little guiltily, to be rid of the smell that still hung over the destroyed town.

  Only two concerns marred my pleasure at leaving. The largest was our new destination. Celine had told me that we would not be trying to make our way through the northern jungles. Instead we were making for the coast and the royal yacht. The official royal vessel, as big as any of the navy frigates, had been assigned to the use of the Tour.