So This is Love (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,84
“Yes, my boy. I’m throwing you a ball to celebrate your homecoming. Everyone will be talking about it for years!”
“That isn’t necessary, Father. I’m sure I’ll be able to greet everyone at court soon enough. Besides, should we even be throwing lavish parties when there is so much suffering outside the palace? ”
“Everyone is invited,” said the duke testily. “Not just the gentry.”
“Everyone?”
“Yes, everyone.”
Every eligible maiden, that was.
That had been enough to appease the prince. The duke had been naive to think that was the end of his troubles with Charles. That perhaps the king had been right—find a girl for the prince, and let him settle down.
But no! Then came this calamity of the runaway princess. If only he had been able to identify her earlier so he could send her off somewhere.
Then again, perhaps it wasn’t too late for that.
“Ferdinand?” the king was saying. “Are you listening to me?”
The duke’s head bobbed up. “Of course I am.”
“I was saying,” George said, his nose twitching as he absently held his side, “perhaps we should lift the ban on magic. Perhaps that was rash, motivated by grief and an attempt to control something we could not.”
“B-b-but, Your Majesty, don’t you remember what the fairies did? You cannot forgive and forget—the nation will think you weak, and—”
“You blamed the fairies, Ferdinand. You and your father. I was never convinced it was their fault. And now I wonder whether it’s time to let bygones be bygones.”
Ferdinand struggled to conceal his shock. Lift the ban on magic in Aurelais? He couldn’t even fathom the chaos that would bring. Trying to hide his dismay, he cleared his throat again, loudly. “I’ll add it to the list of items to discuss at the next council meeting, sire.”
“Good. I know I can trust you.” The king sniffled, grimacing at what must have been another pang in his side. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about recently—after a long while of not thinking about it.”
“Perhaps for the best, sire.”
“But now that Genevieve is back . . . You know, she used to talk my ears off all the time about fairies and such, how she always wanted to meet one. Her husband—”
“Yes, I remember the Duke of Orlanne,” Ferdinand cut in. “He was always a proponent of magic.”
“Maybe he had a point. Maybe I was too hasty banishing—”
“Magic does not solve the problems of everyday life,” Ferdinand said sensibly.
“Yes, yes, I know. But sometimes wonder brings happiness. I’d like to witness something wonderful before I go.” He closed his eyes, his head sinking into his pillow.
He looks paler, and his eyes are sunken in, Ferdinand thought.
“Your Majesty, are you quite well?”
“Well? Of course I’m well.” The king adjusted his sleeping cap to prevent it from falling off his head. “I would have been better if you hadn’t interrupted my sleep.”
The moonlight cast a ghostly light upon George’s wan skin, and for a moment, seeing the king look so ill, Ferdinand felt a prickle of guilt. A tiny prickle.
The duke shrugged it away. Ruling a kingdom required a firm hand; guilt and regret were for the weak. “I thought the news of Charles’s runaway princess would be important to you.”
“Ha, backtracking already, aren’t we? You used to be a better liar, Ferdinand.”
Ferdinand did not reply. It was true; he had been a better liar. Now he was simply better at hiding his thoughts. A useful skill cultivated over many years, and one King George had never suspected.
“Fetch . . . a decree for me . . . Ferdinand.”
“Which decree, Your Majesty?” The Grand Duke tapped the king’s shoulder. “Your Majesty?”
George’s hooded eyes blinked open. “It’s inside my desk. Third drawer on the right. You’ll see it right away.”
The duke did as he was told.
A crisp piece of parchment slid out of the drawer. Ferdinand caught sight of the first line, and it was all he needed to see: By royal decree, all magical persons are no longer expelled from Aurelais.
“It’s already been signed,” continued George from the other side of the room. “I want you to give it to Charles before the next meeting with the council.”
“Won’t you be there?”
“I’ll be in the back taking a nap.” Another cough. “Let it be the first one he presides over.”
Shouldn’t I be the one to preside over the council in your absence? Ferdinand wanted to ask. It’d been he who had headed the council meetings for the past twenty years. The prince had only attended a handful, and maybe only one