Daibhi, my new valet, leads me to an airy breakfast nook overlooking sprawling gardens of blood lily and jasmine through too many wide windows. At least the windows face west to avoid direct sunlight, even if they strike me as a bit too austintatious for my tastes. It is perhaps a pity I will not be involved in managing the castle like my mother is. I’m sure I could make some improvements in practicality and aesthetics if I was permitted.

As it is, I apparently do not even have the freedom to choose my own staff, as the Douburg royalty seem determined to spy on me with this Daibhi fellow. I do not believe I need a new valet, as I find the one I brought from home tolerable enough, but Daibhi informed me last night that he was selected especially for me by the Crown Princess herself, and it would be rude to refuse.

I’ll admit, at first I believed Daibhi was a woman in man’s clothing, with his long auburn hair, round green eyes, and smooth dark skin. However, the youth surprised me with his excellent decorum and consideration for my preferences, going so far as to have my bath perfectly heated and dried dates prepared for me when I awoke in the morning. When I asked him how he discovered dried dates were my favorite, he informed me that he had inquired of my brother, the young Prince Alec.

A spy he may be, but at least he is up to Crismond standards of comfort. So capable and shrewd I found the servant, that I dared to ask him last night how long he had worked in the palace, to which he replied, much to my surprise, thirty and five years. I did not think him older than eighteen with how preserved his features are. Is it the natural dark complexion which masks age so well? Perhaps I was too hasty to judge Advisor Ailin as a youth yesterday. I shall endeavor to discover his history today when we tour the Royal Library.

The Baroness of Onora and Princess Saoirse are already seated when I arrive, their heads close together in a murmured conversation. The princess tilts back slightly, a golden laugh filling the spacious room at something the baroness says. When her eyes open once more, she catches sight of me, a soft, warm smile gracing her perfectly plump lips.

She floats upwards, surprising me by standing in my presence and reaching her hand out towards me. “My Prince,” she greets as I bow to her and kiss her knuckles lightly.

“Princess,” I respond stiffly.

“Come, sit,” she urges as she guides me by the hand to a seat between the two women. My hand tingles where she touches me. “The baroness was just debriefing me on her perspective on the proposals made yesterday in the Assembly.”

I dip my head in respect to the older woman. “Baroness,” I intone as I sit. Servants immediately begin filling our table with various pastries, dried meats, cut cheeses, and exotic fruits, many of which I don’t recall the names of, having only seen pictures of them in books. I’m offered a strange orange drink I’ve never seen before, which I find pleasantly sweet and tangy.

“As I was saying,” the Baroness announces, “the Branch of Growth’s proposal is well outside of their purview. Such a law should be handled by the Branch of Health or Industry. Better yet, let the Builders find a solution to the problem of waste rather than punishing the offenders! I recommended as much to the king, but you know how he is when it comes to the health of those without a voice of their own. He refused to listen to reason after Lord Harbin displayed those artist renditions of the swine with their sad, exaggerated eyes!”

I am quite lost as to what on earth the Royal Advisor might be referring to, but by Saoirse’s barely suppressed giggles and the baroness’ own faux indignation, I gather I am missing some great joke. Or perhaps both women are deranged. That’s a very real possibility at this point.

“Alright, alright Aurnia,” the princess laughs as she raises her hands in surrender. “I’m sorry for teasing you about this matter. I agree, the law is ridiculous. I will speak with Dutchess Aislinn about expanding the sewer system to the outlying farms and help you convince Father to veto the law forbidding the feeding of waste to swine.”

I blink rapidly, trying to process what the princess just implied. “Swine?” The question slips past my lips and both women’s heads snap to mine, as if remembering I am still there. Of course they have forgotten about me, an outsider in their mists. Insufferable women, through and through.

“You know, My Prince, pigs?” Princess Saoirse mocks. “I am sure Crismond has swine. Although I’m not sure the little piglets you raise can compare to our wild boar,” she teases, while I grind my teeth in humiliation.

“We have pigs,” I snap, irritation rising at the princess’ behavior. “But are you really discussing over breakfast a law regarding feeding swine…” I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence, repulsed by how uncouth the topic is.

The princess’ hand flies over her mouth, probably suppressing another giggle. Honestly, what was the point of inviting me to join these discussions of state if they didn’t take me seriously; if they didn’t even take their duties seriously!

“I apologize for offending your Crismond sensibilities, Your Grace,” the Baroness deadpans. “However, the matter has become quite grim as hunting season approaches and the improper disposal of human waste has crippled the wild boar population. Which is why I appreciate your intended’s aid in dealing with this problem in a sensible manner.”

The princess grins warmly at the older woman with obvious affection. A shiver crawls up my spine. “You put too much weight in my power, Aurnia,” she demurs.

“Nonsense, Your Highness!” the grey haired woman objects. “Your opinion is highly respected by not just your father, but the entire Assembly!”

“Yes, well, let’s not bore the duke to death with talk of Assembly. He will get plenty of that during our meeting with the Branch of Trade.”

The Baroness of Onora looks to me with curiosity at the princess’ statement, eyebrow raised skeptically. “Ah, so you intend to attend political meetings, Your Grace?”

“Princess Saoirse invited me,” I defend, still unsure what exactly will be expected of me as King Consort.

Her expression softens on me as she compliments, “That is very good. You would do well to attend as many meetings with various Branches as you can before you settle on one to join. Of course, there is no guarantee that your petition will be accepted, but if you meet the Assembly members individually they will be more likely to grant your request. I would be more than happy to make introductions for you, as I often make rounds through the Branches as part of my duties as Royal Advisor. Gilroy—I mean, Advisor Ailin—also attends less regularly and is well respected by all. He could assist you if you prefer,” she informs me.

I am again startled by the familiarity between the Royal Family and their advisors, but the smallest part of me finds their behavior… just the very smallest part, mind me... it's endearing. So different from the formal manner in which Crismondians of the Royal Court converse.

As the second son of a peaceful kingdom, I never really had a place in Crismond. I could not participate in sports—even if I had wished to—like my younger brother, because my health needed to be protected in the event of the Crown Prince’s death. However, I did not have the skills required to be a man of the people either, constantly attending charity events and parties like Ballinamore. So, I shut myself away in the library, enjoying my books and solitude. However, here… perhaps an occupation would be pleasing and fulfill that “sense of belonging” my mother often told me I needed.

Yes, this is how I will find martial bliss. Not through the company of this frivolous harpy, but through a job well done. If I needed to endure her presence or the presence of these odd Royal Advisors, then so be it.

“That is very generous of you,” I bow with genuine gratitude. “I shall consider your offer carefully after our marriage.”

The baroness smiles, apparently pleased by my response. “Excellent. Now, Her Highness and I usually discuss matters of state during this time, but perhaps we could diverge a bit to hear more of you, Your Grace.” She gestures to me as the princess picks at her food idly.

Her knowing smirk unsettles me slightly, making me wonder what she could be hiding beneath those molten eyes. “What do you wish to know?” I address the baroness, turning away from the princess’ unnerving gaze.

“Hobbies, accomplishments, embarrassing childhood stories? Anything! You are quite the mystery to the entire Court, Your Grace, and the subject of much gossip!”

What an insufferable bunch of— I suppress my annoyance with a long exhale through my nose, squeezing my eyes shut in the hopes to escape this uncomfortable situation.

My eyes snap open when I hear the golden laughter of my fiance. Pure delight is edged into her face and painting her golden cheeks with a rosy varnish. My heart stumbles, no doubt from exasperation.

“I think you have made the duke self-conscious Lady Aurnia!” she chuckles. “We should assuage his worries by vowing to never divulge any secrets he imparts to anyone outside present company.”

“Ah, I think you may be right, Your Highness,” the baroness concedes. “Be assured, Your Grace, your privacy is of the utmost concern to the entire Palace staff.”

“Noted,” I reply stonily.

“Perhaps we should ease the tension by sharing confidence first,” the baroness suggests. “When Saoirse was a little girl—”

“Don’t you dare, Aurnia!” the princess cuts in.

“—the King was very strict about adults becoming too attached to his little girl,” she continues, ignoring the princess’s protests. “Quite the jealous king!” she laughs. “Rotating milk maids and tutors every six months. Can you imagine?”

The princess groans, apparently resigning herself to the older woman’s teasing.

“The only person she was ever close to growing up was Gilroy,” she tells me excitedly. I don’t miss the way the princess stiffens at her words. “Well, I knew I had to intervene in the King’s unreasonable behavior—even if it meant raising Saoirse myself—after she told me one day that she was going to—”

“That is quite enough, Baroness,” Saoirse interrupts sharply, definitively, without any room for argument. The older woman has the good sense to shrink slightly in submission. Ah, there's that bitchiness again. What a hypocrite, wishing to learn my secrets, but unwilling to divulge her own.

“I apologize, Your Highness. I overstepped my place,” she bows.

“You are forgiven,” the younger woman says dispassionately. “I merely did not wish to bore His Grace with childish stories.”

I infer there is more than concern for my wellbeing at work here, but, although I am actually quite interested in hearing more about Saoirse’s relationship with her commoner advisor, I do not probe.

The rest of the brunch passes rather dully, with the baroness and princess quickly forgetting their minor spat to continue pumping me for information. Their questioning, of course, leads nowhere, as I have no interest in discussing my personal affairs with either of them, but they either don’t really mind my dodginess or take my refusal to answer as an exciting challenge.

Either way, within an hour, Princess Saoirse and I are walking through the maze of corridors towards, what I can only assume, is the administrative wing of the palace. We enter a long stretch of hallway with several closed doors marked with golden plaques. Muffled, angry voices fill the hall with indistinguishable words and outside one door, near the end, waits a golden-skinned man in billowing trousers and a richly embroidered coat.

Advisor Ailin turns to the sound of us approaching, his bespeckled gaze falling on the princess and a brilliant smile spreading across his face. “Your Grace. Your Highness,” he bows to each of us politely, but a little longer for the princess, with an added kiss to the tips of her fingers. My eyes follow their movements as their hands linger together through him straightening and lowering his arm. Very odd behavior.

“What did we miss, Gilroy?” Princess Saoirse asks.

“Nothing important, Your Highness. Merely Aengus and Nolan exchanging pleasantries and deciding to vote down the Growers' proposal from yesterday.”

“Excellent. Shall we go in then?” She gestures towards the door while looking at me.

I smother my surprise that she wishes me to take the initiative and push into the room.