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To say the Michel family estate was impressive would be an understatement.
First, there was the driveway. I’d seen the entrance from the road almost three months ago, marked by a pair of tall trees ringed in rose vines and white blossoms where the packed dirt road met a smooth cobblestone drive, and I’d wondered at the time if the pain medicine was causing me to hallucinate. It had looked like an enchanted lane, something that could only be real in a dream. Neither Licht nor Nokto had mentioned it, and they were already watching me for any signs that we needed to stop, so I’d kept it to myself.
But it was real.
And it went on for one mile.
One mile of shade trees spaced evenly apart on either side of the road. One mile of white roses and green vines winding up the trunks.
I couldn’t imagine how much work it took to train the vines to grow that way.
And at the end of that mile, the very real but no less enchanted lane opened up to an expansive series of gardens surrounding a circular drive. Waist-height rose bushes trimmed neatly and covered in more white blossoms took the place of the trees, and beyond them were mazes of paths lined with smaller rose bushes of varying colors. White predominated here, too, but reds and pinks flowered in abundance, and rare orange and yellow roses grew in clumps around arches and pillars covered in more vines. Within the bounds of the driveway was a large pond that the Stotts boys would have jumped into on sight, covered in flowering lily pads of varying colors. Three small fountains around its perimeter poured clear, burbling water from curving spouts to form ripples in the deep blue pool.
Chevalier chuckled. “You look like a wide-eyed child.”
“This is more beautiful than the palace!” I exclaimed, unconcerned about how I looked. He’d lived with this all his life. I hadn’t. I hadn’t even known anything like this existed outside of books, and if I hadn't felt his peck on my cheek, I might have thought I was dreaming.
The carriage jostled to a stop, and I turned to look out the other window, past Chevalier and his amused smirk to the mansion. Wide, semi-circular stairs led from the driveway to an enormous pair of wooden doors bearing the royal family’s rose crest, set within pristine white walls that rose out of sight from my position in the carriage. I couldn’t see the end of the building to the left or the right, either, but based on what I’d already seen, I guessed it wouldn’t be much smaller than the palace. Chevalier opened the carriage door and stepped out, turning to offer me a hand, and I took it with just a quick glance at him. Windows, large and small, round and square, clear and colored, decorated the exterior of the mansion, with rose vines crawling up the sides and winding around the occasional balcony.
I stepped into nothingness, and suddenly Chevalier’s arms were around my waist, and I was flush with his chest.
“Careful, little dove,” he said, the twinkle in his crystal blue eyes saying he didn’t mind this turn of events at all. I blushed furiously and pushed back from him just as the golden rose emblazoned on the doors split in two. A servant in white and gold livery appeared, his smooth expression betraying no surprise at seeing Chevalier or me.
“Your highness,” he said in a crisp voice, bowing deeply at the waist. “And Princess Ivetta, I presume. We weren’t expecting you. Shall I prepare your room?”
“No,” Chevalier replied. I almost giggled at his frosty tone. He was upset about us being interrupted, wasn’t he?
“But we would like lunch, if it’s not too much trouble,” I volunteered, wrapping both of my arms around one of his.
“Of course. If you’ll follow me.”
I glanced down the drive as Chevalier led me inside. The Marquis’ carriage, pulled by a team of glossy palomino horses, was just approaching the front doors as Charlie drove the royal carriage away. It felt wrong to go inside without waiting for the owner of the house.
“He neither expects nor wants us to wait for him,” Chevalier said, answering my unspoken question, as usual.
“But he’s your grandfather, and - oh, wow.”
My heeled footsteps echoed from the shining marble floor to the vaulted ceiling far above, where not one, but five golden chandeliers caught the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows. Polished wooden railings framed a pair of curving staircases to the second floor, and teardrop-shaped crystals embedded in the wood reflected the colors of a sunset about the massive entry hall.
Chevalier chuckled again.
“Would you like a tour before we eat?”
“Yes, please,” I said, smiling up at him. “Although there’s no way I’ll remember where everything is from just this visit.”
Drawing rooms, studies, parlors, the ballroom, the library - which was almost as vast as the palace archives and had documents dating back to the founding of Rhodolite - the mansion was steeped in history, and it struck me once again how strange it was for someone like me to be with Chevalier. It was as his grandfather said. I had no family, no country, a low-born upbringing, no money - by normal standards, I couldn’t be more wrong for him.
Fortunately for me, he didn’t have normal standards.
“Is this your mother?” I asked, stopping in front of a portrait that caught my eye. The young woman it depicted had the same pale shade of blonde hair as Chevalier, and her crystal blue eyes matched his, too. The same pointed chin, the same shapely lips - if this wasn’t his mother, it was his sister. And he didn’t have a sister.
“Yes. It was painted before she married the king.”
I nodded, studying her expression. “She looks about my age. But she’s so sad, isn’t she? She’s smiling, but it isn’t real at all. You can see it in her eyes.”
“Most people don’t notice that.” He slipped his arm around my waist and guided me away. “She was never a happy woman.”
“I wouldn’t have been happy, either, if my husband and my father didn’t love me.”
Chevalier dropped a kiss on top of my head. “That won’t be a problem for you.”
I smiled at his reassurance. It wasn’t necessary, but I appreciated it.
We passed more portraits as we walked, some men, some women, the rare child, documenting the generations of Michels that had come before Chevalier. Not all of them held as much resemblance to him as his mother and his grandfather. I wondered if he looked at all like the king, his father. He and his brothers were all so different.
“Chevalier,” I started as we rounded a corner, leaving the wall of portraits behind us. “What did the king look like?”
“Luke with Jin’s eyes. That was how their parentage was known.”
“Oh.”
So it was a very strong resemblance, then, if they needed no more evidence than their appearance to prove their claim as princes. They were the tallest of Chevalier’s brothers, the most muscular, and they were both red-heads, too, although Jin’s hair had more brown in it. I’d already guessed the king was tall based on the heights of his sons, but six of them had a leaner build, and there was so much variation in eye and hair color among them, I had no way of knowing what came from their mothers and what came from their father.
“All the kings’ portraits are in the throne room,” Chevalier continued. “I’ll show them to you when we get back to the palace. The rest of us take after our mothers. That was your next question, wasn’t it?”
I nodded. “Are there any portraits of them? Or just the queen?”
“Leon and Yves’ mothers were princesses, so they have portraits elsewhere in the palace. The king never married Clavis’ mother, but she came from nobility, so there is likely a portrait of her at Clavis’ estate. There are no portraits of the twins’ mother.”
The twin’s mother. I felt a pang in my chest at the thought of her - at the thought of what Nokto told me about her. I still hadn’t spoken to Chevalier about that.
“There’s, um…something I want to talk to you about…later,” I said hesitantly. “It’s not something I really want to bring up today, but I’m sure we’ll both be busy tomorrow, so…”
Chevalier glanced down at me. He said nothing, but I was certain he already knew.
We dined on the veranda, shaded by a large balcony above our heads and surrounded by fragrant rose vines, and then he gave me a tour of the gardens. They were much larger than the palace gardens, and rose bushes marked their boundaries instead of fortified stone walls. There weren’t any guards around, either - none that I could see, anyway. I could understand why Chevalier wouldn’t want to spend the night here. Without my guards, he’d only feel comfortable about my security if I stayed in his room, and that would give his grandfather the wrong impression. The Marquis probably thought I’d convinced Chevalier to choose me because of a physical relationship, and I didn’t want to feed that idea.
And, of course, there were all the guests back at the palace who would enjoy speculating about where Chevalier and I had gone and what we were doing. Especially since the engagement ceremony meant we were as good as married in many people’s eyes.
Would they think we’d left for a honeymoon?
The thought made my cheeks warm.
And then Chevalier pulled me into a gazebo and his arms for a sudden kiss, and the warmth turned into a blazing heat.
“Chevalier,” I protested weakly.
“You like it here,” he murmured, keeping me close with an arm around my waist. He cupped my face with his other hand, brushing his thumb across my flushed cheek.
“I do. It’s beautiful,” I replied, fiddling with the gold fastenings of his jacket instead of meeting his eyes. “But it’s an enormous place for just one person.”
“In the past, the entire family has lived here.” He tilted my face up to force me to look at him. “This is not the honeymoon, but we can spend it here when the time comes, if you like.”
My face could not possibly get any hotter.
“We can’t honeymoon in your grandfather’s house!”
Chevalier smirked. “We’ll never see him.”
“I don’t care! Just knowing he’s here-”
Chevalier cut my exclamation short with a kiss. I pushed on his chest, but he only pulled me closer, and my traitorous fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket instead of pushing him again. His hand slid around to cradle my head, he nibbled on my bottom lip, and I gave up. It was much easier to close my eyes and melt into him than it was to pretend I was upset with him. I didn’t think I’d ever tire of his kisses. Or the feel of his arms around me. Or the tickle of his hair against my skin, or the way he breathed my name when he wanted more…
He stopped kissing me far too soon.
“I see your point,” he murmured, sliding his hand from the back of my head down to my shoulders and wrapping me in a tight embrace. I hugged his torso and rested my cheek on his chest.
“We should be alone on our honeymoon,” I said. “No brothers, no grandfather, no guards, no servants. Just us.”
“I can arrange that."32Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡY3DZZKMSa4
