The Heiress Queen (Season Series Prequel)

Chapter 1

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"You don't need to go on proving how much of a lady you are, you know," Leopold said, staring up through the tree branches to the summery blue sky above. Fingers knitted behind his head, he was the picture of princely refinement as he lounged against the oak.

"Did I mention that I graduated at the top of my class?" Isabelle laughed, her arms spread as she balanced along the edge of the fallen tree, a book settled squarely atop her head. She moved with the grace of a ballerina, the book barely moving as her feet tested each step along the log's surface. Leopold glanced over at her, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

"At least a dozen times at dinner and two more at breakfast. Now come over here so I can read you love poems like a proper suitor," he said, patting the patch of soft grass beside him. Isabelle hopped down from the log, deftly catching the book as their chaperone, her maiden aunt Gilda, harrumphed from where she'd settled on a tree stump in the shade.

"Mind your distance, Isabelle," she said in that too-shrill voice of hers, her embroidery needle flashing through the handkerchief she was embellishing.

"Of course, Aunt Gilda," Isabelle said, rolling her eyes for Leopold's benefit all while leaving enough space between the two of them to keep her stuffy aunt quiet. When Gilda's eyes had turned back to her needlework, Isabelle scooted a few inches closer as Leopold's hand slid over to find hers. The summer birds chirped as a breeze sighed through the leaves, carrying the smells of sweet lilacs and freshly cut grass across the meadows behind the castle.

Isabelle was happy, as happy as she would probably ever be. Finally free from the prison better known as Saint Mary's School for Young Ladies, she'd trampled her father's expectations and excelled at her studies. He hadn't been anticipating much, especially after the tantrum she'd thrown when he'd announced his plans for her. It had been little more than a few weeks after her mother's passing that he had decided she needed to start acting like more of a lady, but Isabelle disagreed, vehemently. She'd almost been expelled twice from the prestigious school, but thankfully Papa was rich and his pockets were deep enough to keep the headmistress swimming in luxuries as reparation.

Kentshire, Isabelle's home, was a rich duchy on the borderlands between Pretania and Germania, a pair of kingdoms who regularly fought over the location of their borders. Years ago, Kentshire had been a Germanic land, seized by Pretania in the last great war. Thankfully, no soldiers had marched through Kentshire's lush fields and bountiful forests for some time, but even Isabelle was aware of the never-ending political machinations of being a borderland. Since before her grandfather's reign, Kentshire had been loyal to Pretania, content to reside within its kingdom's borders and obey its laws. However, when the current king had ascended his throne, he had steadily increased their taxes after kicking her father off his council.

Isabelle knew that those actions had, at least in some part, landed her engaged to Leopold, the eldest prince of Germania, but she didn't much care about the political reasons. Leopold was dashing, handsome, and gallant and she'd nearly fainted with joy when he'd ridden up with his retinue to meet her, two Christmases ago. Whatever turn of fate had bound her to such a man was not something she was willing to question, not when a throne and an escape from the power-hungry claws of the Pretanian mornachy was imminent.

"You promised me a love poem," she said, checking to be sure Aunt Gilda was still engrossed in her needlework as she leaned back against the tree, her shoulder brushing Leopold's.

They'd stolen their fair share of kisses when he'd come to visit her during her school breaks and now that she was finished like a proper young lady, it was only a matter of time before they would be married. She didn't dare bring it up in front of Papa again, as he'd thrown a fit when she'd last asked him. Ever since she'd finished school, he'd refused to discuss the wedding, even when Leopold had arrived for his yearly visit.

"I'd rather talk about something more serious for a moment," Leopold said, toying with the obscenely large diamond around her finger.

"I've tried, Leo, truly," Isabelle said, watching as the sun caught the stone and set it to glittering. "But he won't hear of it from me."

"Then I'll discuss it with him tonight," he said firmly, "For I won't be kept waiting any longer. When I return from Ardalone, I'm taking you home with me."

The words sent a thrill racing up Isabelle's spine, as visions of the Germanian capitol, Rhysalia, soared through her head. Leopold had described it to her on many occasions, from the deep fuchsia roses that climbed the palace towers to the mirrored ballroom and its great glass cupola in the ceiling. He'd promised her that they would dance under the stars when he introduced her to his court and she intended to hold him to that promise.

"Then let's not ruin the moment thinking about my father," she pouted, leaning her head on the prince's shoulder as she followed his gaze through the fluttering leaves to the sky above, "Tell me about Ardalone."

"Well, it's going to be hot, especially in the summer. The king is a wheezing old bag and his wife is the one who makes all the decisions," Leo said, leaning his head down against hers, "Their crown prince hates the pair of them, but he's agreed to marry the girl they've chosen because she's supposedly the most beautiful in the land."

"That's romantic," Isabelle sighed. Leo's chuckle rumbled through his chest.

"Of course you'd think so," he said, planting a kiss atop her head, "But-"

"What is all this?" Aunt Gilda trilled. Isabelle jumped at the sound of her voice, scooting away from Leopold even as the old woman rose from her seat.

"Unacceptable!" she was squawking, hastily stuffing away her embroidery as she descended upon them.

"I'll find you later," Isabelle whispered, reaching up to run a caress over Leopold's cheek before her aunt's bony grip hoisted her to her feet. She squawked and balked, prattling on about the decency and propriety expected of a young lady all while Isabelle craned her neck for a parting glance at her prince. Leopold watched her go, amused, but he made no move to stop them.