She nodded, jutting her chin. “And end the curse. I need to marry well to ensure the Southern Isle’s continued prosperity, and unfortunately, few men want to marry a cursed princess.” She grinned then, and he realised she was making a joke. And it had been a funny one. Since when did Southern princesses possess a sense of humour? Anders couldn’t help but smile back at her.
“Do we have a deal?” She held out her gloveless hand and Anders hesitated to take it. “We work together to find out who’s behind this curse and how to break it. Tonight. You get your freedom, and I get to live the life I choose, and enjoy dancing again. Agreed?”
He stared into her deep brown eyes, like molten chocolate. Could he risk working with her? What if she only wanted to keep an eye on the investigation and planned to report back to her father about everything Anders found? Or, what if she was only trying to distract him from his mission, and she deliberately confused the evidence or planted false leads?
But he only had one night left, and then he would disappear off to wherever the other intrigued young men vanished to. Unless Isadora could truly help him to figure out the truth. Could he really afford to turn down the only offer of assistance he had received?
“Alright. Agreed.”
Anders saton the ottoman in the drawing room of the Gilded Palace, watching as Princess Livia tried on a brand-new pair of ballet slippers in a buttery, lilac leather. Isadora had already tried hers and was now examining the stitching on a pair that looked to be newly made but were in fact mended.
“Dominic, these are wonderful! Did you make them yourself?” Livia asked the bespectacled, brown-haired young man who had delivered the four pairs of new slippers to the Princesses.
Dominic pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and nodded, bashful. “Yes, Your Royal Highness. I did.” The two shared a smile and Anders raised an eyebrow at Isadora, who looked away, lips pressed together tightly as though to suppress a laugh.
Anders took out his notebook and tapped it with his pencil, thinking. The others all turned to look at him, expectant. He cleared his throat, feeling their eyes on him like a physical weight. “Pardon me, Master Dominic, could I ask a question about the damaged shoes?”
The young man nodded. “Of course. Anything I can do to help.”
Livia gave him a dreamy look and Anders worried she might swoon, but Isadora tapped her sister’s leg with a ballet slipper and Livia threw her a withering look.
Anders schooled his face into what he hoped was a serious, thoughtful expression. “How long, in usual circumstances, would you expect a pair of your shoes to last?”
“Years, sir. Or with especially heavy usage, such as daily dance practice and performances, perhaps months.”
Anders jotted this down. “Months? And in what circumstances might the shoes deteriorate within weeks or days, as they have been?”
Dominic shook his head. “I couldn’t say, sir. It is most unusual. We use the highest quality materials from across the continent, and Master Conti is the finest cobbler in all of Orovia.”
“In all of the Southern Isle!” Livia chirped. Dominic flashed her a grateful smile before turning back to Anders.
“He taught me everything I know.” Dominic held up a satin slipper in palest pink. “These shoes are expert craftmanship. There’s no reason—no reason whatsoever—why they would fall to pieces so quickly.”
Anders mulled this over and scribbled a few final words in his notebook.
No matter how he tried to whittle it down, the suspect list only continued to grow.
He nodded subtly to Isadora, who stood, hands clasped in front of her. “Thank you for delivering the shoes, Dominic. Please give Master Conti our best regards, won’t you?”
A servant opened the drawing room door and Dominic was ushered out, as Livia looked longingly after him.
Isadora sat back down on the silk-upholstered settee. “Well? What do you think?”
Anders scratched his chin. “He certainly has a soft spot for Princess Livia.”
Livia’s face heated. “What? He most certainly does not!”
Isadora rolled her eyes and patted the seat next to her. “Of course, he does, Liv. Sit down. I see the way you two look at each other. It couldn’t be more obvious if he dropped to one knee and proposed marriage.”
Livia’s mouth dropped open at the thought, horror mixing with hope in her expression.
Anders tapped his pencil against the open page of his notebook. “Is there a chance Dominic is deliberately making the shoes fall apart after a single wear, so as to see Princess Livia more often?”
Livia’s fists clenched at her sides. “Absolutely not! He wouldn’t do anything so underhanded. He’s a fine man, not some duplicitous cheat.” The indignation in her eyes was admirable, Anders felt a rush of pride and respect for the youngest Princess. With such fire and a soft heart, he believed she could achieve anything she wanted; including convincing her father to allow her to marry a cobbler’s apprentice.
Isadora chewed her bottom lip, gazing thoughtfully out of the window into the distance.
“What is it?” Anders asked.
