Chapter 1
Francis was enjoying an afternoon all to himself, reading in the gardens.
It was a crisp spring day, which meant the gardens were blissfully quiet. He’d wrapped up warm in his outdoor coat, a shawl, and had brought snacks. He was halfway through a really good book, and he hoped to finish it before teatime.
Alas, his peace was disturbed when he heard the faint calling of his name.
“Prince Francis!”
“Damn,” Francis murmured, snapping his book shut.
He had no intention of heeding the call, which sounded like one of the household secretaries.
Francis had arranged today off and left explicit instructions not to be disturbed.
He tossed his half-eaten apple into a bush. The birds would enjoy it. Then he tucked his book under one arm, clasped his shawl around his shoulders, and hurried to the hedge maze.
His boots made barely a sound on the paving stones. Francis was light on his feet, and good at hiding. He’d had many years of practice.
He ducked inside the maze entrance, where he would be hidden from view, and paused to listen.
Hopefully whoever it was would go away.
“Prince Francis!”
The call was louder, closer. Sounded like Hans, one of the palace’s junior secretaries.
Surely it couldn’t be very important business then. Probably something trivial that could wait a few hours.
Francis dared to peep out from around the hedge.
He spotted Hans standing on the lawn, with two household guards. He appeared to be directing them to areas tosearch.
Well, this was annoying.
Francis ducked back inside the hedge. He decided to retreat to the centre of the maze. He knew it well; he’d played in it many times as a child.
“Prince Francis!”
As Hans’s voice grew closer, Francis got his shawl in a tangle on a hedge branch and almost dropped his book. He elected to save the book from landing on the ground, grabbing it just in time. Unfortunately, his movement only served to further snag the shawl on the hedge, and despite his careful attempts to retrieve it, the poor shawl got a nasty tear.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Francis said, forgetting to lower his voice.
“Prince Francis? Is that you?” Hans called.
Francis abandoned the shawl and walked briskly into the maze.
“Your royal highness, wait!” Hans called from behind a hedge. “I have a letter for you!”
“No, Hans!” Francis called back. He turned corners swiftly, taking the route he knew best. Tall hedgerow towered over him on all sides. “I expressly said I wanted the day to myself!”
“But your highness, you have a letter from the queen!” Hans called, his heavy footsteps running in the other direction.
They must have passed each other with only one hedgerow in between them.
“Well, my sister-in-law shall just have to wait!” Francis called back.
“No, sir, not Queen Celine! The letter is from Queen Maria, sir!”
