I Love You, My Cursed Prince

"Pardon me, Your Highness," the butler said one morning, interrupting a fun music session the women were having, "there's a problem. The Crown Prince has arrived, and he's demanding a room."

Princess Arya threw her flute across the room. Muriel cringed and folded her arms as she nervously looked down at the piano's keys.

"Keep him in a reception room for now," Princess Arya ordered. "Have a room opened for him in the guest's quarters, but don't put him there until you've been told otherwise."

When the butler was gone, she stepped towards Muriel and whispered in her ear, "Pretend you don't have a relationship with my younger son. Do you understand?"

Muriel frowned.

"If my older son thinks for a minute that you're linked to the younger, then everything will be ruined."

Muriel laced her fingers together in her ŀȧp. She still didn't understand.

"Yes, Vidar has given you presents. He's a generous sort, but if the Crown Prince learns of that and asks you of it, pretend that's all. If Emil learns that you've been entertaining him, then he'll start to wonder why. We can't have Emil learning of Vidar's true condition."

Well ... Prince Emil certainly did seem frightening. Muriel nodded and whispered, "Yes, Madam."

"You are to stay near me as much as possible, and don't speak to the Crown Prince. I'll speak for you. If you think for a moment that you'll be alone with him, then run. Run away to another room. I don't want you to have a conversation with him."

"Yes, Madam."

"I'll try to have him leave this place soon, but he doesn't respond well to refusals, so I can't give a solid promise."

Again, Muriel nodded.

The women checked on their appearances and went to a reception room, where Prince Emil was calmly sitting in an armchair. His smile was mellow. There was a thin case in his ŀȧp.

Muriel curtsied to him. The princess did no such thing. Prince Emil put his case on a low table and stood up. He gave his mother a little bow. "Good morning. Are you well?"

"I was feeling very well," Princess Arya said with a bitter look on her face. Muriel wouldn't have been surprised if she had just put a hunk of lemon in her mouth. "You've never been one to visit, not that I would typically accept you. Still, how can you come uninvited and ask for a room?"

With an outstretched hand, palm upwards, Prince Emil said, "I thought you might have softened after all this time, since you insist on stewing in here." His hand retracted. "Perhaps I should have sent a letter beforehand? But then, you'd only refuse me." His shoulder quirked up. "Would you a least let me give your companion a gift?"

Princess Arya stepped a bit ahead of Muriel. "She has no need for such a thing."

"But," the prince said with a flick of his lace covered wrist, "she takes gifts from an ill man, doesn't she?"

Muriel's hands tightened, hurting themselves.