The Gentlewoman's Deception

Ch. 11 // The Prince's Birthday

The prince was turning twenty and six today. Apparently, that warranted a celebration so extravagant that even the little port town Louisa and Taron landed at was partaking in the festivities. "Prince Felix is rather fond of birthdays," Taron explained while looking up and down the streets filled with cheerful whimsy.

Though the port was small, it was filled with excitement. Performers of all kinds filled the roads, blocking off carriage traffic on the streets clustered around the town center. Louisa marveled as a woman contorted her body into impossible shapes while a man dressed in matching colors of red and green juggled flaming batons. Across from them a male performer motioned to the crowd to cheer for him while the blade of a sword disappeared down to its hilt in his throat. Yet another trio of acrobats flipped every which way before stacking themselves on top of each other's shoulders, higher than the second story windows of the weather-worn buildings lining the cobblestone roads. The oil street lamps cast a dim orange glow on the revelers, competing with the shadows that worked to obscure faces. A block over, the sudden noise of fireworks exploding was followed by bursts of colored light streaking into the sky above the rooftops. Everywhere Louisa and Taron walked, their senses were overloaded with something new to see, smell and hear.

Not that this was any problem to Louisa. In fact, she had a great liking for parties. Some of her happiest memories as a child were when Louisa's father would wake her up on her birthday with a chocolate cake. He wasn't the best baker, the cake layers always lopsided and on the verge of collapsing, but it still tasted delicious.

"Happy Birthday, little one," He would whisper as he placed a gentle kiss on her temple.

As she looked around the town, Louisa smiled at the memory. Who would have thought that her father's little one would grow to become a member of the Sons of Sovereignty and be on a covert mission in England.

"Does the prince employ such theatrics every year?" Louisa said, gesturing to a man with his head tilted back, breathing fire up into the air. As night encroached the town, the glow of the moon turned the edges of the fire hazy.

"Yes, every year since he became of age," Taron replied as he watched the performers.

"It must be nice to have the whole country celebrate your birthday."

"Perhaps. Did you not celebrate your birthday as a child?"

"Oh, I celebrated. But it was a small celebration with just my father."

"Just your father?" Taron quirked a questioning brow as he turned to look at her.

Louisa fell out of step at her slip up. She forgot she told Taron that both her parents sent her to England for her apprenticeship.

"And my mother," she let out a nervous giggle, hoping Taron wouldn't press the topic. He just nodded.

Louisa scolded herself for letting her guard down. The pair had spent so many hours together that it was easy for Louisa's emotions to climb the walls her heart had worked so hard to build for the past month.

"Is he nice, the prince?" she continued.

"The royal family is well-liked among the public. Prince Felix, however, is very different from his parents."

"How so? I'm afraid I don't know much about the crown. I'm more familiar with the politics of President Jefferson."

"Look around you, Isa. Do you think this town decided for themselves that they were going to hold a celebration in his honor? The prince makes sure every town in this country is prepped for festivities when his birthday rolls around."

"Is he that pompous?"

Taron gave a pointed look to the dozens of banners dangling above their heads. On each, a portrait of Prince Felix in full royal regalia. His sandy blonde hair with no curl out of place, blue eyes that shone bright through the painting, and slight facial hair that adorned his upper lip to give him a devilish smirk was all the answer Louisa needed. He looked like, well, a prince.