So This is Love (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,18

breakfast. But not today.

King George brightened at the sight of his son. “Good morning, my boy. Sit down, sit down.”

“Good morning, Father,” replied the prince, managing an awkward bow. A servant hastily pulled out a chair for him, but he did not sit. Instead, he directed his gaze to the Grand Duke. “I thought I made it clear that I wished to be present for every report regarding the glass slipper.”

“It is half past seven, Your Highness,” replied the duke smoothly. “We waited as long as we could.”

As always, Ferdinand had an excuse for everything, but Charles detected an undertone of fatigue behind his usual unflappable charm. Dark circles hooded the Grand Duke’s eyes, and his uniform, typically pressed to perfection, was wrinkled at the hems. Evidently, he had not slept well.

Charles had not, either. In truth, he hadn’t slept at all.

How could he? The last thing he had wanted was for Ferdinand to find his intended bride. Charles had wanted to search for her himself. Unfortunately, his father had insisted on appointing the Grand Duke for the job.

Ferdinand is the most capable man in the kingdom. He will find her, he’d said.

Her.

Charles hated that he didn’t even know her name. Everyone was calling her “the mysterious maiden” or “the runaway princess” or simply “the girl with the glass slippers.”

To him, she’d been more. The girl who had captured his heart. His true love, perhaps. Until he saw her again, he couldn’t be sure.

“Did you find her?” he asked.

“I regret not, Your Highness.” Ferdinand blew his nose into his handkerchief and waved a hand at the servants to disperse.

Charles knew the gesture. These are matters of state, meant only for the sovereign’s ears.

Which meant there was bad news to come.

The duke straightened as the staff retreated outside. “I’ve searched everywhere. The maiden has vanished.”

It was as Charles had feared. “Continue your report, please.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” Ferdinand returned to reading his scroll. “From dawn to dusk, one hundred and twenty-three households were searched yesterday in the first and second precincts of Valors. None were residence to the maiden with the glass slipper. I regret I must conclude my search—”

“After only one day?” interrupted Charles.

“Yes. I made a thorough inquiry of the first and second precincts—”

“There are nine precincts in Valors, and more than a hundred and twenty-three households.”

“There are only one hundred and twenty-three noble households.”

“I thought I’d made myself clear,” Charles said through his teeth. “Every house. Noble and common.”

The duke frowned. “B-b-but, Your Highness—if the girl’s a commoner—”

“Every eligible maiden was invited to attend, wasn’t she?” Charles said, quoting the invitation. “Then the girl could be anyone. A countess, a farmer, a scullery maid. Search everyone.”

“I am afraid that will be impossible,” said the duke. “There is a council meeting this morning regarding urgent matters of state. My presence is not to be missed. Sire, don’t you agree?”

“Hmm?” said the king, who was more focused on his plate of eggs than on the conversation at hand. “Ah. Yes. Urgent matters of state. Everyone’s been searched.”

He seems distracted this morning, Charles thought, observing his father. “No, I said to search everyone. If I could go myself to look for her—”

“That’s out of the question,” interrupted Ferdinand. “Your Highness, it would be neither appropriate, nor safe, for you to venture into Valors on such a quest—”

“I was addressing my father, not you.”

“Ferdinand’s right,” said the king, finally snapping to attention. “A prince does not go out on a manhunt, knocking on doors in search of runaway princesses!”

“It’s not a—”

“Besides, your aunt Genevieve arrived this morning and expects you to accompany her to lunch.”

The prince started. The name was one he hadn’t heard in years. “Aunt Genevieve is here?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

A muscle twitched in Charles’s jaw. Now he understood why his father looked so preoccupied. His aunt, the Duchess of Orlanne, hadn’t visited in nearly a decade; in fact, the last time she’d been there, she’d sworn never to return to the palace. She and his father famously did not get along—and Charles didn’t understand why, given he thought the world of her.

“Where is she now?” Charles asked.

“Still sleeping, I should hope.” King George shoveled the rest of his pastry into his mouth. He began to cough violently as he chewed, the color draining from his face.

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed the Grand Duke, springing to action. He tapped the king’s back with his scroll, but it only made the coughing worse. By now, the king’s face had turned

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