Royal Fools

XXIII. To Swim With Fishes

Emory sat in his winged chair as Fairborne gave him a report. "Prince Steffan is currently being questioned along with his men."

"Obviously not pleased, I guess?"

"Certainly. He demands to see, but we told him it has to wait."

"But he's cooperating?"

"Yes. In exchange, he wants the princess to stay where she is."

He frowned. "What does that mean?"

"He told us it's a matter only you and him can discuss."

Emory leaned back in his chair. "How long until you can clear him?"

"Three days. There is not much to discover on the ship. Their papers show just a brief stop in England. His entourage as not questionable as well."

He nodded slowly. "Tell me the moment he can step on Sutherland soil."

Fairborne made a motion to leave, paused, and cleared his throat. "We heard you went to see the princess."

"Only to take her out of Picadilly," he replied with a roll of his eyes.

"We agreed that you stay away for a while."

"You suggested that I do. It wasn't an order, was it?"

The man sighed. "Still, the Clover insists that you stay away until she is cleared. Just a few more days, Sir, and we'll hear from our men in London."

"How many days?"

"I can't tell. The ship from London—"

"I've been very patient, Fairborne. Give me a number."

"A week the most."

Emory just gave him a curt nod.

"Fairborne," he called as the man retreated. "Will you make sure to keep an extra eye on the Grand Princess? People will make it difficult for her now that they're almost certain who she is. My fault, of course. Provide more security."

The man nodded and left. Not long after, the royal chamberlain, Lord Tisdale, walked in, and the old man blinked back in surprise when Emory told him, "Make preparations for the royal wedding."

"So it's true?"

"Of course, it's true," he said. "There are just a few things the Clover has to take care of. Just a few more days, and we'll announce the engagement."

Tisdale recovered fast and nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty. Is there more?"

"Prepare the Ivory House for the Grand Princess."

"Yes, of course. Right away, Sir." Tisdale stepped forward. "Err. When do you want the wedding, Your Majesty?"

Emory smiled at him. "How soon can you make it happen?"

***

Florence did not go to Artemis for the next three days. She was afraid to face the ladies, most especially her friends. But on the fourth day, she dressed up.

A surprised Lucy blinked at her over breakfast. "Do you think it's a good idea?"

"There's no reason to trap myself inside the villa and the smell of rotting flowers."

"What if they ask you questions? Surely, they will. You said so yourself. We cannot confirm your betrothal yet for security reasons."

"And we won't." She smiled over her tea. "I'll just pretend nothing happened."

And much to her surprise, so did the ladies in Artemis. No one—not a soul—asked her directly. However, a few dropped comments like, "I was not aware you are well acquainted with His Majesty," to which she could only respond with, "Oh, I've known him since I was a child. So did many of the members of the imperial family, of course."