Page 16 of How Not to Marry a Prince

"Yes, Your Highness," Vladlena replied.

"You're so funny."

They stopped on the far side of the garden… below the balcony of a square turret. "Nazaire's chambers," Marcellette murmured, able to pitch her voice to not carry in a way Vladlena and Léonce were obviously trying to do but not really succeeding. "You smell nice, by the way. Sweet orange suits you marvelously, darling."

"Thank you. Sorry, I forgot."

Marcellette waved her closed fan in dismissal.

Across the garden, just visible in the lamplight Vladlena had brought along, she braced her hands for Léonce to step into and heaved him up onto her shoulders. From there, Léonce grasped two of the balustrades and pulled himself up, then deftly over, the balcony railing.

Once he was up, Vladlena tossed something into the air. Roses. An entire bouquet of roses, probably incredibly beautiful, given Léonce's skills.

Taking the roses, Léonce headed for the door of the balcony and pressed his ear to it. Satisfied with whatever he did or did not hear, he opened the door and slipped inside.

Amador almost laughed. Really? That's what he had to work with? This was going to be even easier than he thought. Helping Vladlena and Marcellette was vastly more complex. Once he finished with them, helping Léonce and Nazaire wouldn't take more than a few minutes work.

A few minutes passed, and then Léonce returned, climbing over the balcony and hanging down a moment before letting go and dropping deftly to the ground.

"Same time tomorrow?" Vladlena asked as she offered a hand and tugged him to his feet.

"Oh, be quiet," Léonce said without any heat. "You don't have to keep helping me."

"After seeing the way you nearly killed yourself doing it alone the first time? No, thanks. The last thing anybody in this palace wants is to find you lying next to your precious roses with a broken neck. That is definitely not the way to charm the prince of your dreams."

Léonce groaned and gave her a shove. "Have I mentioned lately that I hate you."

Vladlena snickered and threw an arm across his shoulders, moving the conversation to something involving the garden as they headed off.

Amador stood up, brushing leaves from his coat and wincing as his poor knees cracked. "You did not lie: that was interesting. Why haven't you said anything to Nazaire, if you know who his mysterious sweetheart is?"

"Because it's not my place, as much as I would love to simplify everything. Léonce's fears are not unreasonable, for one. For two, I won't be the one making their choices for them."

"Not unreasonable? You really think His Majesty would be angry about the matter?"

Marcellette opened her beloved fan and flicked it impatiently. "Goodness, no. His Majesty is the deepest romantic in the palace. He was made king far too young and is more like a father to his siblings than a brother. He's never really gotten to live his own life, so he's vehement his siblings don't suffer the same. On the contrary, he'd defend the relationship to all comers. The rest of the court, though, would make Léonce's life miserable. It doesn't help that he's rejected tens of suitors, from amongst the court and the broader community. Turning down all of them and winding up with a gardener? Scandal of the century."

"People will have to get over it," Amador said.

"It won't help that neither Nazaire nor Léonce can provide children, and His Majesty is still single and childless. None of that would stop me from being with the person I love, but well…" She spread her hands and sighed. "It stops Léonce, and it stops Vladlena, and I can blame neither, even if I want to knock that stubborn woman upside her fool head."

Amador laughed. "Everything may yet work out. Don't give up hope quite yet."

"Never, darling, but you have me intrigued."

"I'm not telling you anything."

Marcellette's throaty laugh filled the hallway as they stepped into it. "Fine, fine. Have it your way. Will you be at breakfast? Certain parties have missed your company, and we hate to see him so forlorn."

"What? Who? I've dined in the hall once. How could anyone possibly miss me?"

Rolling her eyes, Marcellette said, "Men are hopeless. Goodnight, darling, see you in a few hours."

Amador groaned at the reminder there wouldn't be much sleep in his future, but he was soothed by the knowledge that his plans were coming together nicely. Bowing over Marcellette's hand in a playful imitation of a proper farewell, he said, "Goodnight, my lady. Should you need an escort to the garden some other night, you've only to ask."

"Sweet dreams, Your Highness," Marcellette replied, and with a laugh, headed down the hall toward her own rooms in the palace, wherever they were.

Amador yawned as he headed back to his own room and bid his bodyguards goodnight as he pushed into his room and closed the door. His fingers went to the buttons of his jacket, but he paused as movement caught his eye. "I thought you went—"

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