The Prince in Exile

Chapter 7

They hastened back to Gertrude's parlor at Erzsebet's insistence, and by Lavina's helping hands she was dressed once more in her form-fitting bliaut. After removing her servant's caul, with a bit of manual sorcery, life was returned to her hair. At last she felt herself once more.

Auntie Margit had been waiting for them, and while Erzsebet was dressing, Gertrude relayed all that had transpired.

"There seemed a history between the prince and the envoy," Erzsebet noted as she joined the other ladies. "Do you know of it, Gertrude?"

She shook her head, but Margit answered for her. "Ferenc served first as a page for my brother, King Bela III–the boys' father–but he rose quickly in station. When Imre and Andras were growing up, Ferenc was almost an elder brother to them, and an intermediary between the king and his sons."

Gertrude's eyes widened. "I had no idea! I always thought his behavior was on the king's orders, but I suppose that explains his familiarity."

Margit nodded, sighing. "I cannot say if the king sends Ferenc to punish the prince, or in hopes of conciliation. I doubt either goal finds much ground, given the man Andras has become."

"And what sort of man is that, dear Auntie?"

The three women all jerked at the voice, strong and sure, and turned to find the prince striding across the parlor towards them. There was a catch in Erzsebet's chest, a tightness–she had only just finished dressing! Would this man never arrive with forewarning?

"Speak of the devil, and he doth appear," Margit said mildly. "Good morrow, nephew. Here for breakfast? There ought to be some white mush left in the kitchen pot."

The prince came to stand before his aunt, who remained in her seat. He knelt, took her hand from the chair's arm, and pressed it to his lips. "Good morrow, Your Highness." The princess grimaced at the formality–precisely the reaction Andras had hoped for, given the gleam in his eye as he stood. "A kind offer, but I must refuse. Too much does the stuff remind me of trough-fodder." He turned then, inclining his head to Gertrude and Erzsebet in turn. "My ladies. Are you well this morning?"

That gleam had not left his eye–the mark of a boy who had never been forced to quit his play and grow up. No wonder he had been so easily convinced to rebel: this was a man who had been insulated from all consequences, and so had never learned to check his impulses. How brazenly his eyes ran across her figure, here in front of his betrothed! For a moment she thought to expose him, to tell Gertrude of his late improper visit the night prior, just so he would have a taste of the cruel lesson Erzsebet had suffered these past weeks...

That one's actions loosed out into the world returned as arrows.

But no–not yet, at least. Instead she smiled blandly and answered, "Quite well, Your Highness, thank you. Breakfast was delicious."

"I am pleased to hear it," he replied. "And was the entertainment to your liking?"

Erzsebet frowned. "The entertainment?"

"The farce in the audience hall," he explained, his eyes sharp upon her. "Did you enjoy the show?"

He had seen her–no, but she had taken such care! Always had she kept out of his line of sight, hidden behind Gertrude and others in assembly. His attention hadn't for a moment drifted her way. How could he know?

Erzsebet glanced at Gertrude, immediately suspicious that the girl had told the prince of their scheme–but when? They had been together since the moment the plan was hatched, and she had said nothing to anyone, unless with some subtle gesture to Lavina–