Page 22 of A Slipper in the Smoke
Shewas certainly something.
His good mood continued all through breakfast and even saw him through the first council meeting of the day. He entertained himself with thoughts of seeing her again, questions he could ask her, things they might discuss. He hoped he could procure some more cake. She’d seemed to like that.
Halfway through brunch in his private chambers, Susan said sharply, “You’re awfully quiet and yet surprisingly happy. Did we attend the same meeting?”
Pip immediately crushed all thoughts of the night before, as if Susan could read them in his face. “Can’t I just be happy for no reason?”
“No one is ever happy for no reason.”
Pip said nothing.
“Where did you sneak off to last night?”
“I went to explore the workshops, would you believe? They’re making some fabulous things there. Enlightening.”
“Uh-huh.” Susan narrowed her eyes. “Fine, then. Keep your secrets.” She paused, looking down at her clipboard. “I received a telegram from your mother this morning.”
Pip froze. “Is my father—”
“He’s fine,” Susan rushed. “Or no worse, perhaps I should say. She writes that the Navarran princess is arriving for the ball in a few weeks.”
Pip groaned. His mother had been prattling on about the Navarran Princess, Sofia, for months now. They’d met in their youth as children and he recalled they had got on, but political duties had kept them apart for the last ten years. Navarra was one of the poorer kingdoms, and the royals felt it unwise to make frequent trips abroad with the economy being as it was. Pip actually admired that stance. What he didn’t admire was the fact that his mother had made no secret of liking the idea of Pip making a match with Sofia.
“She’s kind, polite, regal,” she’d remind him at every opportunity. “And I hear, very beautiful.”
Pip was not immune to beauty, but he didn’t believe it should be a person’s defining characteristic, nor particularly useful in the long run. Sofia’s beauty didn’t let him know if they’d actually like one another, if she’d make him laugh or feel at ease, or if he could repeat the favour for her.
“Just make sure you spend time with her if she visits Petragrad,” his mother had suggested. “See if there’s a spark.”
A spark.A spark.Pip had heard of such things, but he’d yet to experience anything with anyone. He liked people, in general. He felt at ease in company and had many courtiers back home that he would call friends. But nothing more. He’d begun to think that there was something wrong with him, that it was never going to happen.
And yet…
He shook his head. It was too soon for that. Too soon and impossible.
“Your Highness?” Susan prompted. “Should I send a response to your mother?”
Pip waved a hand, “Send her the usual. Inquire after my father, update her on whatever you think necessary, and tell her I’ll ‘look to like, if looking liking moves, but no more deep will I endart mine eye, than your consent gives strength to make it fly.’ She’ll like that.”
Susan blinked at him, and thrust her clipboard in his direction. “How fast do you think I write?”
Pip picked up the pen and started to scribble. “Pretty fast.” He wrote the words diligently and handed it back. “Have I some free time now? I’d like to take a walk about the gardens.”
Susan checked her watch. “You have thirty minutes before you’re expected for boules on the lawns. Do you require an escort, or a reminder?”
“I shall be there, Sue. Have no fear.”
“Part of the job, alas. Take an umbrella if you’re going for a wander. The west side of the grounds is slated for rain and I know you don’t always look where you’re going.”
Pip smiled, folding an umbrella under his arm, and resisted the urge to kiss Susan on the cheek like a matronly aunt.
He took a leisurely stroll through the quieter part of the gardens, his feet taking him to the spot where he had come with Elena the night before. Pip, in general, considered himself more a ‘day’ person than a ‘night’ one, but he couldn’t help but feel the garden had lost some of its lustre under the harshness of the sun.
His eyes turned to the Dome roof, remembering the spray of stars spread across the glass only a few hours ago.
“What did you wish for?”Elena had asked him.
He’d wished for peace and his father’s health and a day off and the usual things, but the shine in her eyes had inspired another wish, too.
