Page 52 of Downfall of a Princess

Since Mother had canceled our breakfast, Father was spending the unexpected free time alone. We found him in his favorite reading spot in the window seat in his parlor.

He appeared flustered when we entered after only a brief knock on the door. Promptly getting off his seat, he shoved the book he was reading behind a dusty stack of volumes on duck husbandry and bird hunting. I glimpsed the title of the book he’d been reading. It was the eleventh volume of the complete political history of Rorrim Queendom. This type of reading material was considered too complex for a gentleman’s brain and therefore not appropriate for men.

If Mother saw his book, she pretended she didn’t.

“Good morning, darling.” She placed a kiss on his cheek.

Father yanked the ends of his dressing robe closed over his modest potbelly. “Please forgive my appearance, Your Majesty. Had I known you’d visit, I would’ve taken care to dress appropriately this morning.”

Mother waved him off gently. “You look lovely, dear, in whatever you wear.”

“Morning, Father.” Rising on my tiptoes, I kissed his cheek too, then adjusted the pompom of his sleeping cap over his shoulder. “You look great.”

“Have you eaten yet?” Father fussed. “I shall ring for some breakfast.”

He headed for the ribbon of the bell by the door.

“I have to be in a meeting soon,” Mother declined.

“Maybe at least a cup of coffee with some morning bread?” Father remained hopeful.

She shook her head. “Sadly, no time to spare. I just had another item added to my already busy agenda this morning.” She didn’t look at me, but I knew she was referring to my request to buy Salas’s freedom. “Actually, it may be good for Ari to skip the council session today if she wants to have coffee or tea with you later.”

She seemed not to want me around when the council discussed Salas’s case. Maybe she didn’t trust me not to jump into the discussion and betray my “personal interest” in his fate.

“I’ll gladly have breakfast with you, Father.” I trusted Mother to fulfill her promise. If she believed it was best for me to stay away, I had no problem with complying.

The king rang the bell and sent a footman for some coffee, bread, jam, and cold cuts for us for later. Once that had been settled, he faced us with the brightest smile on his face.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing my two favorite people here this morning?”

“Ari would like to see the princes, darling,” Mother announced.

“Excellent,” he exclaimed. “I’ll get the portraits right away.”

Out of his inner rooms, he brought a leather-bound case and placed it on the cigar display table.

Like most high-born gentlemen, Father didn’t smoke. But a man of his standing was expected to own an expansive collectionof cigars. It was believed that women appreciated a trace of tobacco in a male’s scent but not the yellow teeth or foul breath that came from smoking it. As a result, many noble men carried a cigar in their breast pocket, regardless of whether they ever smoked one or not.

From the case, Father produced three frames and set them up on the table, propping them on their unfolding stands.

“Prince Nevar, Prince Leafar, and Prince Elbon, Your Highness.” Father gestured at each picture gallantly as if introducing the actual live people to me.

“What do you think?” Mother looked at me expectantly.

What could I think?

The men in the pictures looked equally good. Each had a different color hair, eyes, and skin. Each styled his hair differently and wore the distinct clothing of his country. All looked like they had barely crossed from boyhood into adulthood. And none made my heart beat any faster.

“They’re handsome.” I nodded.

“Aren’t they?” Mother agreed excitedly.

One of them would eventually become my husband. However, the warmest feeling I could imagine developing for either of them was something like an affection toward a younger brother, which would be fine if it wasn’t for that pesky issue of procreation to continue the ruling line.

“They look so young,” I added.

“Prince Elbon and Prince Nevar are eighteen,” Father said. “Prince Leafar has just turned nineteen.”

---