The Secret of the Seven Princesses

Something was wrong. Very wrong. Gustave could sense it, could feel it in his gut. His daughters were sitting at the table, quietly eating their dinners in the same way that they had for the last few weeks. There were no food fights, no arguments. The food remained in its rightful place, as did the plates, the silverware and even the princesses. In the course of several days, his daughters had undergone a complete behavioral transformation. They were acting like ladies.

Yes, something was very wrong, indeed.

He should probably be thankful that his daughters were finally acting like the princesses they were born to be. But Gustave was, in fact, one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Yes, the princesses were behaving as he'd always hoped they would, but he wanted to know why. Why the sudden change?

His eyes narrowed suspiciously as—for the second time that night—the hissing of whispered conversation drifted to his end of the table. He wasn't able to trace the origin of this exchange, but he suspected the whisper to have started with either Cliodne or Raia. Gustave had never been a self-conscious man; he was not one to immediately assume that a comment made in undertones was about him in any way. However, he was a bit uncomfortable at the idea that he was being left out of a discussion that seemed to be so riveting to all of his daughters. The princesses had never before been disposed to keeping secrets, particularly from their father. On the contrary, they were almost too eager to speak their minds at the dinner table. Gustave prided himself on the open and honest relationship he held with all of his daughters. Perhaps that was why he found this dubious silence to be so unnatural.

Thunk.

Gustave was jolted from his reverie by a sudden clatter resulting from his youngest taking a nosedive into her plate of bangers and mash. Or at least, she would have landed in her plate had it not been for the quick thinking—and even quicker reflexes—of her sister Petra. With not enough time to actually move the plate from beneath her now-sleeping sister, Petra had instead provided her hand as a cushion, catching Eurielle's cheek in her palm and consequently sandwiching her hand between Eurielle and her dinner. Petra's face reflected shock, disgust and a hint of regret.

"Oh, for goodness' sake!"

Gustave was not the only one to notice this feat, as the dinner table rang with a variety of audible reactions.

"Oh, Eurielle!"

"Careful, her hair's dragging in the gravy."

"Should we wake her?"

"Nice catch, Pet."

Petra's voice indicated frustration. "Will someone get her off me?"

Raia rose from her seat and made her way to Eurielle's side, gently shaking her shoulders to rouse her. Petra took advantage of her freedom to remove her hand and painstakingly wipe it clean of food.

Raia's voice was low and soothing as she held Eurielle's head up, stroking her hair while the youngest princess fought her way back to consciousness.

"I know, Elle. I know you're tired."

"And why is she so tired that she's falling asleep in the gravy?" Gustave's voice rang through the dining room. Thaleia and Cliodne jumped slightly in their seats; the king realized that his presence had been forgotten in their preoccupation with their sister's narcolepsy.

Gustave wiped his mouth with his napkin. "This provides the perfect opening for us to discuss certain events that have been brought to my attention as of late." He indicated for Raia to take her seat, which she did after making sure that Eurielle wouldn't get another potato facial anytime soon. In fact, Eurielle didn't seem remotely tired anymore; on the contrary, her eyes were now wide open and fixed on her father in apparent alarm.

The king cleared his throat. "Various sources have informed me…"

Thaleia coughed conspicuously, a cough that somehow managed to sound like "Valeria!"

She smiled at her father, muttering in a seemingly innocent voice "Excuse me."

Gustave speared her with his eyes. "Very well, then. If we're going to name names. Valeria has informed me of rather odd behavior on your parts as of late. Apparently, my daughters have been rising at unspeakably late hours and are exhibiting unusual displays of exhaustion, as we witnessed here not so long ago."

Eurielle's fair cheeks immediately flushed as pink as her gown. Gustave continued his speech, peering over his steepled fingers at his daughters.

"Not only that, but it has also been brought to my attention that the cobbler's bill has risen drastically due to the replacement of several pairs of slippers that have been ruined beyond repair. Furthermore, Valeria says that your boots have required more cleaning in the past few weeks than they have needed in the last year. I must wonder how this is remotely possible considering that all of the rooms and hallways in this castle have floors of marble or carpet. Methinks my daughters have some explaining to do."

The princesses immediately averted their eyes from Gustave's hard stare, all except for Callia, Cliodne and Petra. The king was surprised at the outright defiance in their eyes at his inquiry. Eralie's voice was respectful when she replied on everyone's behalf, though her eyes remained fixed on the plate in front of her. "We have no idea to what you are referring, Father. If our shoes have been a little dirty, then perhaps we have been walking in the gardens too often."

Gustave pounded the table with his fist. "Do you think me stupid?" Silence filled the room, though he refused to dwell on the meaning. "Answer me plainly: have you or have you not been leaving the boundaries of this castle in direct opposition to the rules that I have set for your safety?"

Eralie raised her eyes to meet his, no hesitation in her response. "No, Father, we have not."

The honesty in her gaze did little to assuage Gustave's suspicions. "Very well, then. If you speak the truth, then you should have little objection to my making sure; from now on, a guard will be placed inside your bedchamber."

A cacophony of outraged cries filled the room. Eralie paled and swooned against the back of her chair.

"The scandal!"

"Father, have you lost your mind?"

"I don't think so!"

Cliodne stood, her eyes snapping as she delivered her opinion of the idea. "Father, do you realize the position that such a plan would put us in? Do you really intend to allow a man access to our bedchamber?"

Gustave's face flushed from equal parts frustration and embarrassment. He quickly amended his order. "Well, outside your chamber, then. My point is, I will be forced to take drastic measures if these alarming instances continue."

When he scanned the table for their reactions, he was met with faces that still displayed anger, yet also a hint of relief and—were his eyes deceiving him, or was Thaleia smirking?

The heavy silence was broken by the sound of the door opening as Sir Bionne entered the room. Upon first glance, King Gustave could see that his steward was not nearly as composed as he normally was. There was a look of intense dislike upon his face, which seemed otherwise set in stone.

"Your Majesty," Ty began to announce, but was interrupted by the rather loud entrance of a second man.

This man strode into the room, the heels of his boots clicking on the floor.

"Your Highness, it is wonderful to be admitted to your illustrious halls once again!"

The thinning of Ty's lips provided the only indication of his ire. "Your Majesty," he continued with a bow, "May I present Sir Luka of Wallen."

"Eurgh."

Several pairs of shocked flew to Eurielle after this outburst. Cliodne, ever the tactful one, quickly covered her sister's indiscretion by saying, "Eurielle, if you don't like asparagus, don't eat it."

Gustave turned his attention to his unexpected guest. Sir Luka came from a noble line nearly as long as his own. All of his ancestors had been loyal adherents of the crown. Granted, Gustave did not particularly care for the man, or his manners, but there was no real harm in him. His very appearance gave indication to his standing, with curly dark hair and dark eyes that bore testament to his Wallenian ancestors. Though well built and athletic, he lacked several inches in comparison with Gustave's head steward.

For some time, however, the king had noticed a certain animosity between Sir Luka and his daughters, though these emotions were rather one-sided…or, as things stood, seven-sided.

Sir Luka preened the front of his shirt before opening his mouth. "My dear king, I thank you for seeing me so promptly."

Gustave's eyebrows shot up to meet his hairline. He had had a choice?

"I have some rather serious matters to discuss in regards to the royal budget this past year and…"

Out of the corner of his eye, the king could see his daughters slipping out of the room one by one. He longed to join them, as dinner had clearly come to an end, yet also mourned the fact that Sir Luka's untimely arrival had cut their discussion short. He could only hope that they had reaped some benefit from his admonishments, but only time would tell.