“Last I recall, Aunt, I am your only nephew.”
The duchess crossed her arms and gave him a stern look. “Much as I am fond of you, Charles, this tardiness is rather unbecoming of the future king.” She raised her hand before he could explain. “I’ve heard from palace gossip that you’re in a lovelorn state. Lovesickness is no excuse for discourtesy, do you understand?”
“Yes, Aunt Genevieve. I’m sorry. Truly. It’s just that... I feel lost. Like I’ve met the one person who’s meant for me, and she’s vanished.”
At his confession, she softened further, her features melting into a smile that rounded out her cheeks and reminded him faintly of his father.
“What’s so special about this girl?” she asked, leaning slightly forward, her eyes taking on a mischievous sparkle. “Inquiring minds wish to know—tell me about her, Charles. You could have the hand of any lady in the kingdom, any lady in the world, even. Why are you so set on this one? Rather rude of her to take off so suddenly!”
Charles hesitated, surprised by how relieved he was by his aunt’s questioning. He hadn’t talked aboutherto anyone—not about his feelings, anyway. Maybe this was what he needed to help sort out his thoughts. To get out of the haze that had clouded his mind ever since the ball.
“Any other girl would only want to marry me to become a princess,” he replied finally. “She... she didn’t even know I was the prince.”
At that, Genevieve wrinkled her nose. “Plenty of ladies pretend to be ignorant, Charles. It’s a coy game that they play—”
“Not her,” Charles insisted. “Not her.” He tugged at one of the buttons sewn onto the tufted cushion against his back. “There was something so sincere about her, so kind. I didn’t even get her name. I’m beginning to worry that she was nothing more than a dream.”
“Dreams don’t leave behind glass slippers,” said Genevieve sensibly. “For that matter, who would think to wear glass shoes, let alone to a ball?”
“I told you,” said the prince, “she’s different.”
His aunt sighed. “You are hopeless, Charles. I see there’s no talking you out of this, so let’s talk about something else. I take it your studies went well.”
“Well enough,” he replied absentmindedly. “I did find it refreshing to study philosophy, history, and diplomacy instead of protocol or dancing.”
While his aunt chattered on about how her husband, Arthur, had been a lecturer once at the Royal University, Charles gazed out the window. On his way home a week ago, he’d marveled at how little his hometown had changed. The oak trees, the wide pastures skirting the countryside, the rows of brick houses and the estates inhabited by the minor nobles, the winding road to the palace. Yet how different they seemed.
He couldn’t place his finger on it, but he saw more now. He noticed the people as well as the land. Surely, what he had learned during his university courses had trained his mind to be that of a learned and knowledgeable king, but there was more to ruling than that.
The prince signaled for the carriage to slow down.
“What is it?” asked his aunt, startled by the apparent change in plan.
Charles opened the door, escorting his aunt into the town. It was still early, and no one paid him a second glance, but Genevieve was starting to get a few stares. They couldn’t stay out long. “I spent almost my entire childhood behind the palace walls. Going to the university was the first time I got to see the rest of the world.”
“What did you see?”
As they turned the corner, wending down a curved path, Charles spoke softly. “Poverty. Our people, starving. Orphans and beggars without anywhere to go.” The prince reached into his trouser pockets and took out a gold coin. “I see it in the capital now, too. I’d never noticed before.”
He placed the gold coin by a sleeping mother and child, wishing he’d thought to bring food as well. But it would have to do. It was only a start. Once he gained his father’s confidence, he would do more. Much more.
When they returned to the carriage, his aunt watched him thoughtfully. “Going away did change you.”
“I heard rumors, Aunt Genevieve, that your husband cared deeply about improving conditions for the poor. That my father sent him away for it. Why... why would he do that?”
“That wasn’t the reason your father sent him away,” said Genevieve abruptly. “I don’t want to talk about it—it’s better left in the past.”
“Forgive me, Aunt.”
“If anyone should be seeking my forgiveness, it’s Ferdinand, not you.”
When she wouldn’t elaborate, Charles gently changed the subject. “The Grand Duke isn’t exactly in my good graces, either. He wants me to marry the Princess of Lourdes. I would consider it if I truly thought we were in danger of war. But I fear his real motive is to expand Aurelais’s power to Lourdes.”
Charles continued, “My father and I should be looking to improving this country for our people, not enlarging our territory. Times are changing. While I was at school, I would slip into town occasionally, unnoticed, and observe the people. How it surprised me to see them unhappy, some of them barely able to afford a roof over their heads, others begging on the streets. There were riots, too—riots against the nobility that Ferdinand denies ever happened. If the council won’t address the problems arising within our own country, then I must.”
“What would you do about it?” said Genevieve quietly.
“That is the difficult part, is not it?” confessed the prince. “I’ll make enemies of powerful men like the Grand Duke, and the people will dislike me by nature for being the head of the regime that oppresses them. But I want to help them. Truly, I do.”
