Note from the Author

Thanks for your patience as I get my other platforms caught up! We will be back to two chapters a week on Saturday, March 23. A little peek behind the curtain: I'm also re-editing a fresh edition of my published novel, and am revising a romantic fantasy novel with a co-author to get it ready for publication. This project feels like chill fanfic to me in comparison, hah!

This is the Scribble Hub-only bonus chapter, taking place on that weekend the girls spent at the palace with Etienne.

As well, here's the art of Etienne you guys voted on a few chapters back. When I have more time, I hope to draw the rest of the guys!

~ * ~

Something I did not account for when I cheered on Étienne’s offer to take Antoinette and I for a trail ride: turns out I was kinda afraid of horses.

Étienne had introduced me to my horse for the afternoon–Belle, a retired draft horse. In other words, a chestnut giant who’d find it pretty dang easy to break my toes or bite off my fingers. Étienne gave me way too many safety measures for me to feel comfortable in the stall with her, no matter how many times Étienne repeated that she was gentle as a golden retriever.

Antoinette drawled from outside the stall, “You’re sure you’re alright, Chloé?”

“Oh, yeah, totally.” I made a big show of petting Belle’s shoulder. What did she need all that muscle for? Did she miss the memo that she was retired?

I tried to soothe myself by taking in Antoinette’s outfit for the day: riding pants that clung to every line of her long strong legs (I forgive you, dev team, for the anachronism, amen hallelujah), a pair of heeled boots, and a high-necked button-up top with floofy sleeves. Her brilliant red hair was tied up in a ponytail under her helmet, showing off those gold cartilage earrings I liked so much.

Étienne arrived, putting on his helmet and handing me my own. “I’ll show Antoinette to Gaston and then we can set off. You’ll need a hand with mounting, yes?”

“And with much more than that, by the looks of things,” Antoinette said.

“I’ll help you.” Étienne had a way of making stuff like that sound like helping me wasn’t wasting his time. I bet with my silly smoking incident, he’d convinced himself even more that he needed to help and protect me.

(Though Antoinette had made a pretty good case in that conversation that she could protect me.)

Right then, Antoinette neatly freed a piece of Étienne’s blond hair from where it was caught under the strap of his helmet.

Hmmm. I said, flapping my hand in a way that made Belle flinch (you’re too big to be this jumpy!), “Lemme get to know her for a minute. You guys hang out. I bet you don’t need to teach Antoinette anything, she told me she used to ride all the time.”

Étienne glanced at her, brightening a little more. “I had no idea.”

“Chloé’s exaggerating.” Antoinette gave me a, What do you think you’re doing, ya goof? look. I innocently batted my eyelashes in return. She knew my game by now, but that didn’t mean I’d give up—or that it wasn’t fun to tease her.

Étienne led Antoinette a few stalls away to the other horses. He asked, “Did you ever compete?”

“Of course I did. And clearly you didn’t, or else you would have remembered me soundly beating you.”

He laughed. At the sound of shifting leather and metal, I caught a glance of Antoinette lifting an enormous saddle onto the back of her horse like it was nothing.

Kyaaaa!! cried the sparkly thought bubble above my head.

She said, “Thank God your staff let us tack up today instead of doing it themselves, hm?”

“Perhaps my father spoke to them about letting me do it.” Nope, you have another saviour to thank for that. “I appreciate it. Groundwork is key to the connection between horse and rider, after all.”

“Goals and training are important too. Did you compete or not?”

“Isn’t competing half the fun?”

Unluckily for him, Antoinette was a pro at smoking out bullshit. “For most of us, yes. For me, absolutely. But not for someone whose spot on the podium could be manipulated, bought, or scrutinized by every newspaper in the country.”

What followed was an odd stretch of silence. I tried to peek over Belle’s neck, realized I was too short, and scooted over to look behind her flicking tail instead.

“So, yes or no?”

Étienne finally said, “Yes, only briefly. I left the scene after a couple years. You clearly understand why.”

“I do. I competed for a decade when I was young.” And I was exaggerating, huh?! She set a hand on her curved hip, facing Étienne. “An utterly stupid conspiracy cropped up one year. I won because I worked my horse too hard—people had stories, evidence! And then next season, I lost because I worked my horse even harder. More stories, more evidence. Lies, all, to make me seem heartless and greedy. It was isolated to one strain of gossip papers, thank God for that, but it taught me that people like us simply can’t win. You were right to leave. What matters is you and Madeleine, not medals or ridiculous accolades.”

Étienne paused, like he was really settling into the information, then gave her a little smile. “I think you’re right.”

“I usually am. You and Louis are similar. You’re both so caught up in expectations, though he has targets. His sisters to watch out for, his art to improve. You? Who are you? And what targets do you have?” She was hitting him with these existential questions as she casually adjusted the saddle.

“And then Rémi is absolutely fine, it seems.”

“Oh, he has his own issues, though he’s even more tight-lipped than you. Sylvain, too; Sylvain has more issues than all of us.”

“And what about you, Miss Delphine?”

She straightened up, looking down her Grecian nose at him. There was no way Antoinette would ever say she had problems. Right?

She started, “I only—“

I yelped and leaped back as Belle kicked out. It was only a little kick but it was enough to warn me that maybe hanging around a horse’s back end wasn’t the best of ideas.

Étienne called, darting out of the stall, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, totally,” I said, pretending to fix my helmet all chill, though my heart was pounding. “Learned my lesson.”

“You’re too nervous,” Antoinette said as she and Étienne reached me. “Belle is picking up on it. Étienne, this might be a disaster.” She shooed me out of the stall (so I had to pass those skull-crushing hooves again), and then turned Belle around by the bridle.

Étienne set a gentle hand on my arm. “You can stay behind if you need to. We’ll cut our trip short.”

“...Y’know, maybe that’s a good idea. Don’t worry about me. You two take as long as you like. Get lost if you want.” And then camp out all night with only each other for warmth, muahah–

Antoinette interrupted, “No, you’re coming. You’ll ride with me.”

“W-with you?”

“Yes. Won’t that help you keep your mind off things?”

Girl, not even close.

After no further clarification, Antoinette began leading Belle out of the barn. Étienne followed with Madeleine. I skittered onto the road, keeping out of the way of the gigantic animals, feeling itchy under my helmet.

“Alright,” Antoinette said, bringing Belle to a stop, “get on.”

“I’m pretty certain I can’t.”

“I promise, everyone is scared at first, and then they get used to it immediately. Why is it now that you choose to be shy?”

Étienne put the reins on Madeleine’s neck and approached us without her. He held out a hand to me. “I’ll help you up, Chloé.”

No backing out now. Besides, we didn’t have long to get this ride done. They were perfectly capable of having a moving conversation with me in the room, right?

Étienne gave me instructions on how to get up there, two hundred feet in the air on the back of an animal that didn’t seem to like me much. I hooked a foot in the stirrup like he said. Took hold of the reins and a sprout of black mane like he said.

Aaaaand wondered how the hell anyone had enough core strength to swing themselves up that high.

He said, “Antoinette? Could you–”

“Ever the gentleman, hm?”

Antoinette pushed me up by the thigh and small of my back, until I’d landed in the saddle. She took my foot out of the stirrup, hooked in her own boot, and hoisted herself up.

She settled behind me easily. She took the reins from my frozen hands, but had to tug; I’d tensed up, feeling her pressed close against me. There sure wasn’t a lot of room on this saddle. Her thighs bracketed mine, seeming all the more defined in the riding pants, and she had to reach around me to handle the reins, every line of her torso distinct against my back, both firm and so very soft.

“Sit straight,” she said, not unkindly.

I did automatically. Even amongst the cool autumn air, I could feel her breath, skimming gently past my temple.

“You’ll be fine. Do you think I’d let you fall?”

Typical Antoinette. She made that romance fanfic line sound so stern! But, as I’d been learning over and over, she wasn’t a romance fanfic heroine. She was just her.

Once Étienne was also mounted and led Madeleine in front of us, we headed off into the grounds. I was right–I really was about two hundred feet up in the air. Maybe three hundred, it seemed, once we were descending into the woods and the seat was wobbling and breathing and huffing beneath me.

Only one thing could tear my attention away from Antoinette’s closeness, and that was the beauty of this fantastical world. Sometimes it felt like I was skipping around a ren faire or touring an old European building, but in nature, it was hard to deny the magic of it all.

Étienne explained: the grounds were full of charmed fruits and flowers, magically enhanced so they could grow and thrive in Eavredor–regardless of season–when they were native to faraway places.

How fairy prince of him, dismounting to pluck us some shiny apples or plump strawberries! How historical video game of him, explaining to me what these special rarities were, when back in my world, I’d sometimes forget that I’d bought them until the last few were molding in my fridge!

Antoinette kept Belle neatly under control. She was right–after a bit, I wasn’t so scared. It helped that I could trust her to know how to handle the horse and the trail. Plus I felt extra secure, bracketed in by her tall silhouette.

Just as I was thinking that, Belle suddenly stopped, jolting me in the saddle. Antoinette wrapped an arm around my stomach before I slid away.

“What–” I started, then I saw it.

Two little kids, a girl and a boy, down the little hill off the side of the pathway. Peasants, my media literacy told me. And cartoonish peasants at that, from the torn-up potato-sack-looking tunics to the bare feet and scuffs of dirt on their cheeks. Tumbled right out of the video game and fell in a puddle of mud on the way.

They were huddled beneath a tree limb that was heavy with ripe, sunny oranges. The girl, older, it seemed, than her brother, had a stick in her hands, probably trying to knock the fruit down. Now, they both looked at us like we’d pulled rifles on them.

Étienne hopped off his horse. “Bonjour,” he said gently, even when they flinched. I couldn’t get the image of the poor kids from Aladdin out of my head, but their expressions of wariness were all too real. There were even little stressed tears sparkling in their gooey eyes. Étienne eased down the path, reassuring them as he went.

He plucked a few oranges from the tree and held them out to the kids. The girl must have recognised who he was by this point. She curtseyed clumsily. The little boy bowed, but snatched the oranges on the way up. They quietly began to speak.

Antoinette slid off the saddle and landed elegantly on the path. I tried to copy what I saw Étienne do, leaning forward and swinging my leg back, but my lack of confidence and balance was probably totally palpable.

Antoinette braced a hand against my side. “Careful,” she admonished lightly as she helped me down.

Once I was on solid ground, I said through a soft laugh, “Wow. Long way to fall.”

“Good I caught you, then.”

Étienne came back up the slope. The kids were eagerly peeling the oranges, but watching us with apprehension in their watery eyes. He explained, “They can’t find the way back to the road, and they’re hungry.”

This could be nothing else but a set up for a character moment!

I turned to Étienne (much more confident now that I wasn’t on the horse). “So, what’s your plan, Your Highness?”

Étienne brushed the bits of leaves off his trousers, looking askance at the kids. He definitely did not look like he had a plan. Finally, he said, “They likely slipped through the fence during a guard shift change, or some other stroke of luck. We’ll run directly into the guards if we lead them out.”

“That’s good, then,” I said. “You can explain the situation.”

Antoinette snorted. “Yes, and then explain it over and over again once it’s leaked to the papers…”

“They’re your guards! Why would they snitch?”

“His guards are obviously paid off by journalists. They always are.”

“What?!”

Étienne gave me an awkward smile. “Most likely.”

Antoinette said, “We used to have a whole network of them. It took forever to flush them all out. Especially since my mother didn’t agree with my father that we should fire them. She probably thought they’d all turn out like them.”

We turned our attention to the little kids, awkwardly huddling together in the grass, trading back and forth the oranges that Étienne had given them and peeling them piece by piece.

I argued, “I mean, who cares? The papers’ll be told that what, the prince gave some begging children some fruits? Fruits that the palace has like a kajillion of? Aren’t you beloved for this sort of stuff?”

Étienne and Antoinette shared a look. A gentle oh dear, the peasant girl is on about her peasant things again look. Antoinette set me straight. “That’s very different than being seen with the poor. To detractors, wouldn’t that look like handing off treats to the poor for good press, and ignoring the structural problems in the kingdom?”

Jeez Louise. “But…Okay, so, I heard about this really famous lady who was pretty much the first official who dared to be seen shaking hands with the sick. And people loved her for it, since she challenged everyone to see them as human. That’s how she’s remembered. They call her the People’s Prin–the People’s…Politician.”

Apparently that rousing speech about Princess Diana wasn’t very convincing. Étienne gave me a soft smile that I was beginning to recognise as the smile he gave me when he didn’t know what the heck I was talking about. “You assume the best in people, Chloé; I love that about you. However, the guards are obligated to report everything to the King and Queen. They won’t be impressed with me advertising the palace grounds as a community garden.”

Grow a pair, Étienne! I’d never spared such a thought for him while playing the game, but apparently my patience ran a bit more thin when actually faced with him…and actually faced with the downtrodden of Eavredor.

So I said, “How about this. I’ll lead the kids back to the gates. If anything comes of it, you can say it was all my idea. Then you’ll only be to blame for not controlling my silly womanly, commoner instincts.”

He cringed. “Chloé, the Queen already isn’t…well, she has some opinions of you, and–”

Antoinette huffed. “You’re being a coward. Let’s go.” She thrust Belle’s reins at Étienne, took my arm, and started leading me off the path.

We reached the children, who both seemed terrified of the flaming figure of Antoinette, at least until she said, “I’ll take you back to the road. If we pass any fruit trees, you can pick them freely, but don’t fall behind. Alright?”

They nodded with little mumbles. Their eyes still sparkled with tears about being lost. As Antoinette forged onto the path, I helped them open the second orange and split it in two, handing each kid one half each.

They followed us like obedient ducklings. Antoinette knew her way around easily, though the grounds looked like a glittery labyrinth of paths and shrubs and trees and berry bushes and gardens to me.

“How do you know your way around so well?”

She paused so the kids could fill their pockets with strawberries off a bush. “When I was little, my family was invited here fairly often. I would run around the grounds and lose my parents on purpose. Eventually I learned all the secret pathways.”

Yes, lore! “What were you up to? Stealing strawberries, too?”

“My father had the most dull meetings with the King. Always flattering, always lying. My mother was staunchly against lies, and my father didn’t like me tattling on him, so I left, to stop myself from hearing any of it. I was bored, anyways.”

After the little kids had filled their pockets (and their mouths), they shyly scampered up to us. We walked again.

“Did you and Étienne ever run into each other out here?”

I imagined adorable childhood games of hide and seek. Maybe pigtail-pulling. A cute little morality lesson where Antoinette learned to be a nice kid. Kiddie Valentines.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“He was always at his father’s side. To learn.” She rolled her eyes. “We were both children roped into our father’s schemes. I have no doubt his childhood was more of a misery than mine. The citizens know what they want from business leaders, because they want to be business leaders; they want to see what kind of personality would lead them to greatness. They have no idea what they want from the monarchy anymore. Everything annoys them. It’s made him gutless.”

“We’ve got to work on that, for sure,” I said.

“Absolutely. I won’t accept a coward for a king, nor a friend.”

Friend!!

Another ten minutes later, we finally made it to the gate. Sure enough, there was a perfectly orphan-sized hole, formed beneath an iron-wrought lion head. I was pretty sure the architect didn’t count on children squeezing through. And just like Étienne said, there was a guard a few feet to the side, completing the chain of poor bastards lined up to observe the street and stare at nothing all day.

Antoinette steered us to the gate. She let the kids through and said to the guard, “Mind the gaps, would you? These little ones got in.”

Unluckily, these were dumb kids, and, to their credit, they were probably used to running full tilt away from the fantasy cops, thanks to their cliche script. They darted. Strawberries bounced out of the little girl’s pockets, bright red and drawing the guard’s eye.

The guard made a move to grab the girl. Antoinette neatly stuck her arm out, causing him to flinch back like she was hot iron. I couldn’t imagine the career scandal it would cause if a lowly guard put his hands on the heiress Delphine!

“Let them go.”

“They’re little thieves!”

“They’re hungry children.” And just in case I dared to think this was a “save the cat” moment, Antoinette added, “Hungry, foolish, reckless, and unintelligent. How could you be so stupid as to let them through? Much less not notice any signs of trespassing?"

The kids were clearly confused at what the heck was going on, not sure if they were trapped or not. I gave them little shooing motions. But they were looking to Antoinette.

She wasn’t so gentle about it. “Well? Get going. You got a good bounty this time, but don’t you dare come back.” She leaned on the words: “If you send anyone back here, they’ll get in much worse trouble than you, alright?”

It was a good point–the guards knew about the gap now, and Antoinette and I wouldn’t be there next time to make excuses for anyone who slunk in. Nor would Étienne, even though I wished he would be, just to put his foot down. Surely if he was here, face to face with the guard, he wouldn’t let anything happen to the kids. Surely when it mattered most, Étienne followed his heart and not his rigid training.

The kids ran off down the street, the little girl clasping her pockets to avoid losing any more strawberries.