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

by Melanie Cellier

  I shrugged. “We all escaped in the end.” I hesitated. “Do you really think this was connected to the fire in Medellan? To the rebellion?” I had seen the ashes of an entire town with my own eyes, more proof than I could ever need that the rumored rebellion was more than just talk. And yet, the idea that it could have reached its insidious tendrils all the way out here to Catalie seemed somehow fantastical.

  “Surely you do not think that catamaran sank itself?” asked Cassian.

  I frowned. “No, of course not…” My voice trailed away. A different theory had started to take shape in my mind, but I couldn’t explain it without also explaining the truth of what I had found below decks. And I wanted more time to ponder it, to be certain before I accused anyone.

  At least I now understood Frederic’s faith in the words of the crewman earlier. Their actions on the boat and in the water had demonstrated they were trustworthy in the matter of the royals’ safety, at least.

  Plodding across the sand made my tired legs scream, but my thirst proved stronger than my exhaustion. We walked up the course of the small stream that trickled out onto the beach until we found a section clear enough to drink. Frederic gallantly stood aside for Delphine, who had obviously been left to drink last out of the previous group, offering her a large leaf he had just picked.

  Something stirred in my stomach as she smiled at him gratefully. She had always been a kind girl, and in my absence, something had brought her out of her shell. Her features were attractive, and she belonged to the noble class. I remembered the way Frederic had rushed to support her in the water. Wasn’t this what Celine had wanted me to keep an eye out for? Shouldn’t I be telling Celine the good qualities of the other girl?

  But I found I could not bring myself to do so. No more than I could bring myself to watch them laughing as they stooped to drink side by side. It seemed I had truly lost all sense of the appropriate.

  I drank—blessed relief for my parched tongue—and stumbled back to the beach, unable to process anything more in my exhaustion. But as more time passed, I began to make mental preparations for a night on the beach. And then a sail was sighted.

  Once more our small group formed up around Frederic, but the first person to hail us from the deck was the Earl of Serida, and I could feel both princes relax.

  We were soon bundled in blankets, drinking from actual cups, and attempting to keep our eyes from the endless expanse of ocean as we sailed back to the manor with all speed. I wanted to curl up and sleep, but now that I had rested a little, my mind wouldn’t let me relax. Someone had put us all in danger, and I was fairly certain that I was the only one—with the exception of Julian—who knew who it was.

  Part II

  The Jungle and the Desert

  Chapter 12

  The viscount met us at the dock with a contingent both from the Tour and the manor. Gasps arose from the small crowd when Julian was carried off on a stretcher, the doctor who had accompanied the earl hovering over him. Our group straggled off after them, dispersing among the family and friends waiting. Except for Frederic who strode straight to the viscount.

  “I want a full investigation.”

  “It shall be done.” The viscount gave him a full bow, deep concern etched in the lines of his face. Only once did his worried eyes stray to his son’s face.

  We were led up to the manor where I attempted to peel away from the crowd to slip into my tent. But a firm hand on my arm halted me. I looked up into Frederic’s face.

  “Not tonight. You should be up at the manor with us.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but Celine spoke first, her words interrupted by a yawn. “You can sleep in my chamber. The servants can easily lay out a pallet for you.”

  I reluctantly closed my mouth and nodded.

  But I awoke abruptly from my exhausted slumber after only a few hours and could not return to sleep. Trying not to toss and turn in case I disturbed Celine only made it worse, so as soon as the palest hint of dawn appeared, I slipped silently out of bed, to pace the corridors instead.

  A few of the servants were up, but the halls were otherwise deserted, and I wandered through them in a haze of memory. It had been less than two years since I had called this place home. And yet the me who had lived here felt distant and strange. But, as I paced up and down, my eyes alighting on familiar objects and rooms, I was forced to admit to myself that in some ways I was still the same person.

  I examined my motivations of the day before. I had told myself I remained silent out of respect for Julian, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Part of me had been gripped by fear. If I spoke up and told the truth and Julian did not back me, who would believe me over the son of a viscount? Especially when the story painted me in such a heroic light.

  My steps quickened as my thoughts twirled. The royals had shown me nothing but kindness. They had included me where I had no right to be included, they had trusted me, and when I had told them of my past life here, they had believed me over Monique’s lies.

  So why did I hesitate now? People have believed you before, spoke up that voice inside. For a while.

  I wrestled with myself. Surely my hesitation harmed no one. If my theories were correct, the royals had not been the target of the accident. And surely, now that he had arrived safely home, Julian would tell his father the whole truth, and a proper investigation would be conducted.

  My steps slowed, and I drifted around a corner. The sight of two unwelcome figures made me draw swiftly back.

  “What did you do?” hissed Monique to her companion.

  “You can’t blame me if your precious prince rushed to rescue somebody else,” said a haughty voice that sounded somehow less confident than it had in the past.

  “You told me I would have my chance to be thrown together with the prince, not that you meant to sink the boat—with Julian inside! I thought this would be like our trick with Evangeline and my necklace. Not murder!”

  I gasped, and then clamped my hand over my mouth. Was this the confirmation of my theory, then, as well as the past wrong against me? Two confessions in one.

  “Sink the boat? What are you talking about? So now I am to be blamed for Julian’s catching his leg on a nail as well as the prince’s desertion of you? It seems to me, he likes that little baron’s brat better than you—not to mention the commoner.”

  I didn’t have to see him to picture the smirk that no doubt accompanied his statement. But Monique, to her credit, would not be deterred.

  “Do you think I care about that when Julian could have died!”

  “So he has made it through the night, then?” Marcus tried to sound nonchalant and failed.

  “No thanks to you,” she snapped. “I’m telling my father everything you told me.”

  Did her voice sound closer? I drew further back.

  “Wait, Monique,” Marcus sounded a little desperate now. “You’re misinterpreting everything.”

  Their voices seemed to have paused again, as if he had halted her progress somehow. I continued to inch back silently, however.

  “Let go of me!” Monique’s outraged cry was followed by running footsteps and then we were face to face. She halted for the briefest moment, her glassy eyes widening. Then she threw up her hands. “Oh, of course. Of course!” She almost cried the final words before taking off again.

  I stood frozen in shock as Marcus also rounded the corner.

  “You,” he said, his voice icy, as he advanced toward me. In all the years I had known and feared him, I had never seen such an expression on his face. I abandoned any pretense of dignity and ran as fast as I could.

  Several corridors over, I was still running headlong when I collided with a tall figure. My momentum nearly carried us both to the ground, but I managed to steady him at the last moment, stepping back to look up at Julian in surprise.

  “Should you be out of bed?” I blurted out, the words the first to come to my lips.

  “Perhaps not,” he said, “but I needed to speak t
o my father.”

  I waited for him to say something else, but for a long moment he just regarded me, a confused look in his eyes. I remained silent. He was the one who owed me explanations, not the other way around.

  “You risked your own life to rescue me,” he said at last. “And then you held your silence. Why?”

  I blinked at him. “Would you have rather I left you to die?”

  “No, of course not. But it would not have surprised me if you had.”

  “A pretty idea you have of me,” I said, shaking my head, knowing I must see the humor in the situation or I would cry from so much pent up emotion.

  He shrugged. “I am aware you disputed your banishment. It would not be unnatural for some resentment to remain.”

  I stared at him, slowly shaking my head. Did he really think my only complaint against his family was my banishment? I considered pouring out all my grievances, throwing the many injustices into his face, but instead my shoulders slumped. What would be the point?

  “I would not let someone die over such a thing,” I said instead. “As for why I stayed silent, I have been busy asking myself the same question.” I said no more. The inner workings of my mind were none of his business.

  “Well, whatever your reasons, I thank you. I have told the whole story to my father, and he will see justice done.”

  I thought of my own experience with the viscount. He was certainly implacable once he perceived a crime had been committed. It seemed I could rest easy and put aside my internal struggle. But I couldn’t help asking.

  “It was Marcus, I suppose?”

  Julian nodded, his expression difficult to read. “I cannot imagine why he felt our trip to be an appropriate time to dispose of me, but his jealousy is hardly a secret on the island. It was he who injured me, though he claimed it to be an accident. He accompanied me below deck and when I went into the cabin, he locked me inside. I can only imagine he then sabotaged the boat. If it had not been for your fortunate arrival, and the fact that I keep a second, hidden, set of keys, I would now be at the bottom of the ocean. He heard, as did I, my father charge my crew with the care of the three royal persons. I suppose he saw his opportunity.” He shrugged. “Whatever motivated him, we shall now at last be rid of him.”

  I stared at him. Perhaps I should not be so surprised by the cold statement. His cousin had just tried to kill him. I opened my mouth and then closed it again. What more was there to say?

  Moving slowly now—the route taking me far longer than it should have, lost as I was in my thoughts—I made my way back to Celine’s chamber. I found the other girl already up and gone. Throwing off my dressing gown, I hurriedly prepared for the day. Perhaps I would find her in the breakfast hall.

  But halfway there, a call of, “Evie!” interrupted me. Turning, I found Celine and both princes hurrying toward me.

  “There you are!” the princess exclaimed, falling on my neck.

  Frederic, who was still hurriedly buckling on his sword belt, slowed, his face relaxing. “Celine became concerned when she woke to find you gone.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “It never occurred to me…I couldn’t sleep and have been walking the halls.” I drew a deep breath. “I hear the viscount has determined the boat was indeed sunk and has even discovered the culprit.”

  Cassian raised an eyebrow as Frederic said, “Already?”

  “I just ran into Julian,” I said. “But perhaps we will find them all in the breakfast hall. They should be the ones to tell the tale.”

  The three of them joined me, and we did indeed find the viscount calmly involved in consuming several slices of ham and toast. When he saw who had arrived, he stood and bowed.

  “Your Highnesses.”

  Frederic indicated he should be seated, and we all took seats of our own, although none of us touched the food. Monique, who sat beside her father, looked nervously between us. Her mother and Shantelle were absent, as was Marcus. Julian had presumably returned to his sick room.

  “We hear you have discovered the truth of yesterday’s events,” said Frederic, his eyes never leaving the viscount.

  The man paused and placed his food back on his plate.

  “It is more than regrettable, Your Highness. It is infamous beyond words that you should have been placed in such a situation, and I am merely grateful that you all escaped harm.”

  Frederic said nothing, his face grim.

  The viscount sighed. “I regret to say that my brother has been dead for many years, and his son, my nephew, was encouraged to treat my manor here as a second home.” He shook his head, and I barely refrained from shaking mine. He thought that was where he went wrong?

  “You speak of Marcus,” said Cassian.

  “Indeed.” A wave of some emotion passed over the viscount’s face, and he looked suddenly older than he had before. “I am afraid my nephew has long envied my son’s place as my heir. And it seems that yesterday he seized the opportunity to attempt to remove my son from the line of succession. Thankfully he was not successful.”

  “Thanks to Evie,” said Celine, her eyes steady on his.

  “Pardon me?” He looked confused by her words.

  “It is thanks to Evie that he was unsuccessful. Or did your son leave that part out of his recounting?”

  “He left nothing out,” said the viscount stiffly. “And indeed, our gratitude lies with the young lady.” He still hadn’t looked at me, and the sting of his words took me by surprise. I had not thought this man had any capacity left to hurt me. “Even now arrangements are under way to provide her with a suitable reward.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but Frederic placed a cautionary hand on mine where it rested on the table. “Gold, I assume?” he asked.

  “Of course, Your Highness.” The viscount gave a half bow from his seat.

  I wanted to protest that I wanted none of his gold, but Celine’s eyes were telling me not to be an idiot, so I held my tongue. And after a moment’s reflection I had to agree with her. It was unlikely to be more than I had legitimately earned from three years of unpaid labor in his household. This wasn’t a reward, it was my due.

  “We will talk to Marcus ourselves, of course,” said Cassian, not distracted from the primary question.

  “I am afraid that will not be possible,” said the viscount, his eyes hooded.

  “Excuse me?” Frederic’s voice was pure ice.

  “I am most sorry, Your Highness. Such a crime against my house and the crown must be met with the swiftest justice. My nephew has already been sentenced to banishment and has left this island with nothing to his name.”

  Frederic stood up, his chair clattering loudly to the floor behind him. “Banished? Already? You did not think to consult us first?”

  The viscount considered him with lidded eyes. “It is not customary. It is my role to see justice served, and I wished to honor you with the speed of my actions.”

  “Fred,” said Cassian quietly and a silent exchange took place between the brothers.

  When Frederic turned back to the viscount, his fury had frozen to ice. “We will speak of this again.”

  The three of them stood in unison, me a beat behind as Celine prodded me to my feet.

  We were going, it turned out, in search of the Earl of Serida. My fear that we would find him still abed turned out to be groundless. Instead we found him entering the manor, his face etched with lines of deep anxiety.

  “Your Highness,” he said on sight of Frederic, giving him a low bow. “I have come from the docks, and I have some unsettling tidings.”

  “As do we,” said Frederic. “But perhaps they would better be discussed in my suite.”

  And so, for the first time since we had arrived, I saw the inside of the suite of rooms assigned to the crown prince. I had never had occasion to enter them when I lived here, but I knew them to be the grandest of the manor’s guest rooms. Opulent red and gold proclaimed the viscount’s wealth more loudly than it did his taste. It was the wr
ong decoration for an island home.

  “It seems we have been betrayed,” said Frederic as soon as the door was closed. His words snapped me back into the moment. Betrayed?

  “It is certainly a matter of grave concern to see one of yesterday’s party, the viscount’s own nephew, shipped off in such a hasty manner,” said the earl.

  “The question,” said Cassian, thoughtfully, “is whether he is really responsibly for the sinking, or whether the viscount just wants it to appear that way.”

  My eyes grew wide. What conspiracy did they suspect?

  Chapter 13

  The earl mopped his brow. “Very troubling indeed. You have spoken to the viscount, then?”

  “We have,” said Frederic. “He claims it was an attempted assassination of his son, and that his nephew has been banished in punishment.”

  “That is our custom, certainly,” said the earl slowly. “Banishment, I mean. As it is your own family’s.” He eyed the princes somewhat warily as he spoke, but neither of them commented on his assertion. The royals had a special island, far in the south, for the banishment of traitors—and had used it even on their own family.

  “However, this haste is unusual, and—dare I say it—unseemly,” the earl added.

  “It certainly appears clear that the viscount did not want us to talk to his nephew,” said Cassian, his eyes grave. “Upon consideration, however, I am inclined to think Marcus did truly commit the crime. The obvious victim was Julian, and Marcus is certainly the one with the strongest motive against him.”

  “Julian himself has accused Marcus,” I said. “I ran into him in the corridor.” Everyone looked at me. I drew a deep breath. I had told myself that my silence harmed no one, but now I had seen that wasn’t so. It was time I stopped thinking of myself. “I have a confession to make.”

  Celine snorted. “As long as you’re not going to try to convince us you sank that boat.” A chuckle rippled through the group, releasing some of the tension. I managed a weak smile.