Chapter 10
A Scottish autumn chill that felt more like winter hung in the air as Princess Mercedes hurried along one of the academy’s many stone corridors, a pair of leather-bound textbooks, a small stack of musical scores, and the newly delivered post clutched in her arms.
She smiled and nodded to a few of the other girls as she passed, but she didn’t take time to speak, too eager to locate Ariadne. That morning they’d had history and geography classes together in the east tower before separating after the midday meal for additional instruction—Ariadne in advanced Italian poetry while she herself was working to improve her performance on the pianoforte. Beethoven’s Sonata no. 14 in C Minor was playing in her head even now, her fingers absently tapping out a section of the tune against the back of her books.
She checked first in the common room where half a dozen girls were gathered around the fire in a comfortable arrangement of chairs, but didn’t see her friend’s easily identifiable reddish blond head. She went next to the library, but Ariadne was not there either. Aware of one other likely place, she climbed the stairs to the ancient stone and glass solar, abandoned for the most part now in favor of the more modern accommodations to be found elsewhere in the castle.
“Finally!” Mercedes declared, dropping down onto one of the stone benches next to her friend.
Ariadne looked up from her book and arched a pale brow. “Were you looking for me?”
“Yes! We’ve had a letter from Emma. It just arrived.”
Clearly interested, Ariadne placed a slip of paper inside her book to mark the page, then set it aside. “Well, let us hear. What does she have to say? Has His Highness finally decided to grace her with his presence, or is she still trapped inside that pristine dungeon of a house?”
Mercedes frowned. “She said it is a very elegant estate. I’m sure she is quite comfortable.”
Ariadne gave a faint snort. “Just because you’re comfortable doesn’t mean it’s not a prison. But we can argue about that later. Open the letter. I want to know the latest.”
Setting aside her burdens, Mercedes broke the red wax seal and unfolded the vellum.
Clearly too impatient to wait, Ariadne peered over her shoulder, glasses perched on the end of her nose. A few moments later, she gave a disdainful sniff. “I knew he would postpone his arrival again.”
“He is regent now, what with the king so very ill. I am sure he has many weighty responsibilities, particularly in these trying times.”
Ariadne rolled her eyes. “The times have been trying for years, and it’s not as if he need worry about being shot or captured now that the war is done. No, he’s arrogant and inconsiderate. If he wasn’t going to join Emma in a timely fashion, he ought not to have forced her to leave school when he did.”
Mercedes was well acquainted with Ariadne’s less-than-flattering opinion of Emma’s older brother. Personally, she had never understood her friend’s dislike of the prince. He had always been pleasant and well mannered, one might even say charming, on the pair of occasions they had met. Yet Ariadne bristled like a hedgehog whenever they were together or he was mentioned.
Once, she’d asked Ariadne why she held such a grudge against him.
“Let’s just say I know his type. That is sufficient.”
If by type, Ariadne meant royal princes, then she supposed all three of them knew his type. Beyond that, Ariadne would not explain.
At Mercedes’s side, the other girl gave a knowing hum. “I told you Emma was blue-deviled and trying much too hard not to let on. But oh ho, what’s this? Why, that little minx. I see I didn’t give her enough credit.”
Enough credit for what?
Mercedes read faster, her mouth dropping open as she found the pertinent sentence. “Whatever does she mean she’s left the estate and has found alternate lodgings!”
Ariadne laughed. “It means she’s kicked over the traces, that’s what. Good for her.”
Mercedes frowned. “But it isn’t good. If she’s run away, just think of the trouble she’ll be in when they find her.”
Ariadne chuckled again. “If they find her. I think it’s wonderful she’s escaped. Maybe she’s finally come to her senses and is going to refuse that match her brother has arranged for her.”
“How can she refuse when so much is at stake? She said herself that she knows her duty and that her nation’s future depends on this marriage.”
With a hand, Ariadne brushed aside such logical objections. “According to the Americans, everyone has a right to personal happiness. Duty be damned, I say.”