STAMP OF APPROVAL - a selection story

undercover

B A R D

I am not expecting Princess Charlotte to walk through my door.

She closes the door behind her, a small smile on her face. I set down my paintbrush as she comes over to me. She stands behind me, eyes penetrating, gazing straight at the beginning of my painting. I feel slightly embarrassed at her seeing me with messy fingers, tousled hair, and a full day of not shaving. It's been the first day to myself in a while, and I wanted to spend it doing something I love. I'm not usually this free with my appearance, since it's been trained in me since day one to look the part of a guard.

I was told the longer I portrayed I belonged, the faster I actually would.

But the princess doesn't seem to notice the difference in my appearance. I try to figure out why she has decided to visit me in my small room, but I come up with no answer. She only stares at the painting, a content smile settling on her lips.

Then she seems to remember herself, and turns to me, donning a determined expression, dropping her smile.

"Bard," she starts.

I dip my head. "Princess."

She can't help a little grin. "I have a proposition for you."

I straighten.

"Relax. It's nothing terrible."

I do not relax.

She takes a seat across from me, glancing at me from the painting. "We're good friends, yes? As well as friends we can be." Her kind expression makes my shoulders drop a little, but not enough for me to feel as if this is a friendly conversation. But I see she wants an answer to her question, so I give her a curt nod. "Good. Then I have no problem asking this of you."

I swallow.

The princess glances down. "As you know, I am hosting a selection." She swallows, and barely meets my gaze. "I feel prepared, yes, but I had an idea. I wanted someone on the inside, among the selected, just to make sure I'm not making a horrible choice when I eventually choose my husband." She looks as if she's conflicted about that last word. "I brought the idea to my parents, and they thought it was a good idea. So I guess what I'm trying to say is, Bard, would you be willing to go undercover as a selected?"

I almost drop my paintbrush.

"For me," she adds.

I barely get my mouth open. "You want me to pose as a selected?" I repeat.

She nods, smiling a little. "Yes. Then during the times we would have to meet as if you were a "selected" you could tell me what you've learned about the men. I would want to know what you think of them. I believe you know me well enough to know what I would want to hear."

She has a lot more confidence in me than I've ever had in my entire life.

I'll never be used to the amount of confidence anyone would ever have in me.

"Princess Charlotte, I am honored." But I can't help adding, "Are you sure you want me to do this?"

She leans forward, placing her hand on my arm. "I'm sure. There's no one I trust more to do this." She stands. "And you would only have to be yourself. I know you love to paint," she gestures to the painting, "So you would be an artist, as your career. The only other thing is you would have to pretend not to know me. But other than that, it would be easy." She gives me another grin, staring at me with expectation.

I realize I still haven't given her my answer.

I want to help. I do. I can see deep down she is scared of this happening. I've known her for many years to know that she is unsure of all of this happening, as she was in the very beginning when her older sister left. But I had confidence in my princess for as long as I've known her, and if she does in me...

"Well?" she asks when I say nothing.

I let out a breath. "Of course I'll help."

She looks as if she holds back a squeal. "Thank you, Bard. Thank you." She glances back at my painting. "I like it." She moves toward the door, still staring at me with an excited expression. She opens the door and disappears behind it.