Prince James paced endlessly around the library, trying in vain to make sense of what he'd seen. How could his Elle possibly be here? He'd searched for her for months before his father forced him to quit and get ready for his arranged marriage to Katherine. It seemed as if she had literally shown up on his doorstep, and in a bizarre twist of fate had been enlisted as his fiance's new lady-in-waiting. It seemed too good to be true, and when things seem too good to be true, they usually are.
There had to be another logical explanation. Memories fade, it was possible that he had simply forgotten her face enough that he assumed a girl who looked like Elle to be his Elle. He shook his head in denial. Who was he kidding? He could never forget that face. The beautiful flame haired girl had fully captured his heart, and his longing for her was driving him mad. Perhaps that's what was happening to him; maybe he missed her so much that he was transplanting his memory of her face onto the young maiden. Then again, perhaps not. Although the odds were astronomically slim, it was possible that the girl named Margarette was in fact his beloved Elle. Come to think of it, Eleanor's middle name had been Margarette. Could she possibly be going by her middle name to hide her identity?
A lovely voice broke through the relative silence of the library. "James, if you keep pacing like that you'll end up in the cellar." He looked up from his musings to see Katherine entering through the gigantic double doors.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I've had a lot on my mind lately."
"I know." she replied, pulling a thin book from the shelf and making her way back out the door. Before she left she said, "Elizaveta wants to talk to you."
James raised his eyebrows. "For what reason?"
"I assume the Winter Ball."
"My sister is in charge of that."
"You're the future king." the raven haired woman replied before disappearing into the corridor.
James sighed. He loved attending balls, he just hated planning them. In his youth, his mother had always been the one to plan the annual festivities. They were extravagant, lavishly decorated affairs, and attended by all who could. Since she'd died, it had been Annalise's job to plan them, especially the ever important traditional Winter Ball. Annalise was very good at planning them, having learned we from their mother. What could the Royal Housekeeper possibly need his help for?
Moments later, not even enough time for James' thoughts to drift back to Elle, Elizaveta walked into the library. She was a short woman, standing several inches shorter than the Prince.
"Yes, Elizaveta? Is something wrong with..."
The old woman cut him off, leaving him speechless. "I believe I've found your mysterious Elle."
James crossed his arms and swallowed, regaining his resolve. Although he wanted to believe her, he couldn't. It was too perfect; everything couldn't be adding up like this. Something had to give.
"How do you know this?" the Prince asked flatly.
"A girl named Margarete appeared several weeks ago asking for a job for her and her sister. She has red hair, she's admitted she has magic, and her accent is Incognitan. Besides, have I ever been wrong about people before?" She hadn't.
James smiled. He trusted Elizaveta's judgement above all others, especially when it came to people. "Was that all?"
The old woman nodded, then returned to the kitchen to oversee dinner.
So his hunch had been right; Elle was here, living in the castle right under his nose. If he wanted to successfully reunite with her, he would have to treat it carefully. He couldn't possibly tell her that he was actually the Prince, not yet anyways. He didn't want to lose her a second time.
As he paced the library, he formed a brilliant plan; he would wear the glamour, taking the name William again, and pose as a stable boy. He could get close to Elle without the unnecessary baggage that would come from her knowing that he was the Prince. It was the perfect plan, and when the time came he could tell her of his royal linage in his own way.
With this plan formed in his mind, he had to figure something out first. He left the library and decided to track Miranda down. He needed a way of telling Elle of "William's" whereabouts, and he knew just who to talk to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Elle, I have some news." Flora said, talking with her sister in Elle's new room. Being promoted to the Lady-in-Waiting of a Princess had its perks. However, in all honesty, Elle should have ladies-in-waiting of her own. Flora was getting comfy on the upholstered couch while Elle waited for her sister to spill the beans.
"And?"
Flora stalled, playing with the velvet upholstery.
"And?" she pushed,
Flora glanced apprehensively at her sister. "William is here."
Elle's jaw dropped. "He's here? Where?"
"In the stables." she replied. "He tends the horses. Apparently he keeps going on about a beautiful girl he once met in a tavern, a girl named Elle."
They'd been working here for weeks, and he'd been in the stables all this time.
Before Elle had a chance to think of anything further, Flora got up and left, having various chores to finish. Elle frowned. Flora should have better than a servant's life, the life she'd had, but Elle knew that the only way anything could be done was if she took her mask off, and she was not nearly ready to do that.
After Flora left, Elle thought carefully about what to do now that she knew exactly where her beloved was. The plan that she devised was very simple; she would once again don her servant's clothes, taking the name of Elle once again, and get close to William. When the time came, she would tell him everything.
Her mind made up, she got up and left her room, venturing back down to the room she'd shared with Flora in the servant's quarters. There was something in their old room that she needed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elle pulled her cloak around her shoulders as she entered the stables, relishing the blissful warmth after trudging through snow and biting wind. The smell of horses and hay filled her nose and the various whinnies broke the silence. Towards the middle of the building, she heard someone brushing a horse's mane. The man's long brown hair was unmistakable; there stood her beloved William, exactly where her sister said he would be. After hanging up her cloak, she slowly approached him, but he did not seem to hear her feet crunching on the dirt, too absorbed in his work. "William?" she ventured.
The man finally peeled his eyes away from the horse, allowing them to fall on her form. He smiled broadly, instantly putting down the brush. Elle returned the smile, and had to keep herself from running towards him in pure delight. The seconds felt like hours until she was finally in his arms, exactly where she wanted to be.
Sophie
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