The Rebel Prince (The Season Series #3)

Chapter 3

"The good ambassador will show you to your rooms," the king said, once the great ebony palace doors had clanged shut. He snapped his fingers to summon the waddling Ambassador Wells to his side, a retinue of nobles and advisors having followed us in behind the princesses. The monarch said no more to me, dipping his head before turning off towards one of the many towers, his advisors trailing in his wake.

Well, that was that. Clearly my "warm" greeting had been more of a show for the nobles than a show of the king's true feelings.

"Marvellous place, isn't it?" Ambassador Wells said, letting out a low whistle and a nervous chuckled. My eyes followed the king, who did not seem to enjoy the idea of me being here, despite outward appearances before the other nobles outside.

"It certainly is impressive," I admitted. "I'd love to tour the city once you've showed me to my room."

"Yes, yes, of course!" the ambassador gushed, gesturing towards the tower opposite the king's. Dulciana and her sisters were headed the opposite way. My travelling companion didn't so much as spare me a glance, prattling on in Ardal with her sisters as they followed behind the king's advisors. The taller princess hung on her every word, while the shorter one kept darting looks my way.

Ana-Cristina, the beautiful one, I thought. The rumours certainly had been correct about her, her cupid's-bow mouth curving upwards as she caught my eye. The taller one was either Inés or Beatriz, the other two princesses of marriageable age on the Ardalonian royal family tree I'd studied back in Highcastle. Inés would be the same age as my own sister Anne, while Beatriz was the twin of the missing prince. Brigida and Sofia, the last two princesses, were both under the age of ten, likely off in a nursery somewhere, playing games or doing whatever young Ardalonian princesses did to pass the time.

"Which princesses were missing today?" I asked the ambassador, knitting my hands behind my back as he looked around at me.

"The youngest, of course. Ardalonian tradition keeps them relatively sequestered from strangers until they are older," the ambassador replied.

He was avoiding the question, much as he had when I'd asked about the prince.

Obviously I wasn't trying hard enough.

"I counted three," I said innocently, following him up the stairs. "Weren't there supposed to be six in total? Or perhaps I'm mistaken."

The ambassador made a little noise in his throat, whether out of annoyance or out of the exertion of climbing flight after flight of curving staircases, I couldn't tell. He was already huffing and puffing when we'd made it up but two floors, gesturing that he would tell me later, his face ruddy with exertion.

Or perhaps feigned exertion to better avoid my question.

I remained silent, following him up higher and higher, past landing after landing. The staircase curved around the inner part of the tower, a great gaping space open from the top to the bottom. The only light came from the sun pouring through a gilded glass dome overhead, at the very top of the open, spiralling staircase. We finally stopped before a heavy wooden door. The ambassador produced a key, the door sliding open on well-oiled hinges.

I made a mental note to have the lock changed. Or at the very least keep everything I didn't want prying eyes to inspect locked away in my trunk.

"Here we are," he said, waddling into the room and eyeing the pair of chairs around the dining table in the corner. Clearly he expected me to offer him a seat, but I wasn't about to grant him any favours until he answered my question about the princesses.

"It'll do," I said, swiftly inspecting the suite of rooms I'd been granted. They curved around the tower, with a view down towards one of the gardens flanking the glass-roofed ballroom. Windows dominated the walls, with gauzy curtains swaying in the salty breeze. A terrace jutted off the bedchamber, the sea visible just beyond the palace walls. The sitting room boasted a number of comfortable chairs and a hearth that was so pristine I wondered whether they ever used it.