The Royal Castle of the Halesworth lineage was a funny thing sometimes. Between its two floors and three towers of grand halls and rooms of marble and hard stone, dark silver (never Iron, never) adorned every other piece of solid and ancient furniture. Differently from some of the Castles in the kingdom, differently even from some other Royal Castles, it was a place made to stand forever. And because forever was such a long time, much of how the Castle was ended up forgotten.

In his opinion, Crown Prince Cian Halesworth had a very interesting theory about the mysteries of the endless rituals the servants had to perform in their daily routines or the misleading layout the hallways happen to have every now and then but that train of thought was something he took pleasure in just keeping to himself.

And so, to keep indulging in that, every time he turned a corner he lightly touched the walls with the back of his fingers, wishing silently to get where he needed to be as soon as possible. Of course, he never had any miracle happen (his theory wouldn’t be just theory if that was the case), but he never got late unless he deliberately chose to, so he was happy to count that as proof.

To any of the Dukes and Duchess, he was much more than late to their encounter with the Tatchers, but his Mother knew enough of him to know the truth. The Queen seated in the middle chair of the grand table stared at the tall mirror on the wall opposite her, seeming to lightly observe the view of the kingdom’s Council surrounding Her and the much happy merchants on further away chairs, but her eyebrows went just a little bit higher when she did so.

Even if he knew she couldn’t actually see him, he looked back at her and smiled bitterly, leaning on the wall of the hidden room while he watched through the fake mirror. She could complain later, but as he saw it there was no reason for him to be there.

Silvia and Louis Tatcher were undeniably and unceremoniously leaches, in a way that made him have a cold kind of respect for them. They were beyond compelled by his Mother's magnetism and in fact, they didn’t try to hide their nature at all: they might have enough respect for the hierarchy to oblige whatever the Queen or the Nobles ordered them to, but it was clear as day that they wanted to prosper, so they tried to be of good grace and make small talk, showing off their daughters like pieces in a market. They already knew of them all after their spies fetched them an overview of the family, of course, and the way they spoke reminded him a bit too much of the neighboring kingdom’s slave market for his tastes, but at least he got to know some facts only close relatives ought to know.

The youngest one was developing fast for her age, so in case some unfortunate events were bound to happen with the older ones, she could still be of use as soon as one or two years from now. The fourth one, though unfortunate in appearance, seemed to be happy to just be left alone, so in case she was to be chosen it would be acceptable to just gift her one of the tower’s rooms and carry on. The third one had always been one of the most obedient to her elders and superiors so if she was of “the Prince’s tastes” she would require but a period of lenience to change into her role. The second one was already a good choice, she was in her prime age and much willing to carry out her duties. And the eldest… Well, that was the one they had no new information to disclose. As seemed to be a consensus every time people were asked of her, she was candid, obedient, well-mannered, and beautiful, if not a little older.

Even now, the Teachers were exulting their oldest daughter with glee.

Cian sighed, turning to leave. Well, if that was all they had to offer, he might as well have a look for himself while the Thatcher’s daughters were without his Mother’s influence.

Touch, turn, touch, turn, touch, turn, and easy like that, he was in the square garden that faced the room they were currently resting on.

Still from a distance, he lifted his eyebrows as he spotted the youngest Tatcher jumping in a mud pit, dirtying her puffy dress and the visible parts of her small body with a childish joy on her face. Developing fast, was she?

“Ah, Manny, darling, be careful not to fall, yes? You know you have a frail physic,” The one that was undoubtedly the oldest warned through the window with a worried face… A face that was irritated and rather puffed up in places.

He slowed down his steps just a moment while he quickly reassessed the situation. Were the Tatchers lying? Perhaps just making the truth a little more favorable to them in order to cut a better deal? But it didn’t make sense, it took but one look to be able to immediately see through their lies. And before it all, how would they be able to lie?

No, Cian reasoned. It wasn’t possible for them to be able to distort the truth in just one meeting with his Mother. Many from her close circle took years to even omit a benign fact from her, it was impossible for commoners with no unusual background to achieve this much resistance to her influence. The Tachters thought their words to be the truth… Then why weren’t they?

With his curiosity spiked, Prince Cian approached the young one quickly, a faint smile on his face. Her pigtails flew in a circle when she turned to him, her curiosity like a mirror of his.

“Hello, little one. Are you having fun?” she stared at him with wide-open eyes, “You must be…”

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“I’m Miss Manny, sir,” she bowed down to him, “But my sisters say I must be in a guardian’s presence to interact with gentlemen so I must go back now. Have a nice day,” and she sprinted back as the maid that was looking out for her just happened to recognize him and immediately bow low intoning “I greet your Highness the Crown Prince,” loud enough for all the rest to notice him too.

Soon, they all bowed right where they were, and he sighed as his plan to further question the child flew out the window. Well, he was sure he’d have better luck with the others: children were known to show a much higher resistance to his bloodline charms.

“Greetings, Misses,” he stepped in calmly before being suddenly interrupted by a young man… Wait, was that the third Thatcher girl?

“It’s an honor to be able to meet you, Your Majesty. If you would be so kind as to give me a handshake?” She seemed to have a lot of that merchant’s quality, and she certainly smiled just like her parents did, “I would certainly remember this day forever, and would never again wash myself in gratitude!”

“Please do wash,” he took her coarse and firm hand, “I will be glad with just your sentiment, Miss…”

“Just Samir, Your Highness, no ‘Miss’ please,” and he smiled in apology.

“Very well,” he gazed through the others, “I beg your pardon, but it seems that since I had very little time to get accustomed to your names, I will need to request an introduction.”

The second shortest of the girls, the one with a white dress, curtsied before addressing his request.

“It would be our pleasure, Your Highness, for you to even consider remembering your humble servant's names,” she had a humming-like voice, one that was easy to miss if you didn’t keep your ears sharp, “I am Gabriel. Your Highness has already met Samir,” she gestured in the third girl's direction, “This is our oldest sister, Alani,” the aforementioned girl gave him a flawless courtesy and he had to admit she did in fact had a perfect manner to her, “And this is my youngest sister Manuel.”

“I believe we’ve already got to know each other,” he graced her with an amusing smile, “Though she introduced herself as Manny?”

The child was currently hiding behind the two oldest, peeking at him.

“I apologize if she committed any offense, she is too young to know much about courtesy,” he waved for her to continue, “She prefers to be addressed by her nickname, it’s the same for me and Lulu as well. I believe you have noticed we have man’s names, that is because in our Mother’s culture the chances of having a child of your preferred gender increase if you gift them their name while in the pregnancy. Unfortunately, we all ended up as girls.”

Not an unheard-of practice. He assumed to be something of the sort once he learned their Mother had ties with the Sandilands.

“Very well then, Miss Manny, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he smiled and the little girl blushed. He looked at the only other Tatcher that had not been introduced yet, “You are Miss Lulu, I presume?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” the taller-than-him girl stated before retreating again to the back. Not one to enjoy the attention, was she? At least in that, their parent’s words and reality seemed to align.

“Should we sit and chat for a bit?” the servants hurried up to serve them all tea as they rested on the sofas.

As he observed, Cian could not help but notice the oldest attire and posture. Her dress seemed to hug her balanced figure beautifully and her straight back was held in a way it seemed natural for her to look at others from the top down, although her eyes were properly kept down while she sipped her tea. She almost looked like a noble lady already.

Cian thought of the analysis they had of her again… It seemed like those unfortunate pimples were the only disparity in their description. Could they perhaps be a new development?

“If you allow me one question, your Highness,” the second one (what was her name again?) raised her voice, “You’ve mentioned just now that you had ‘little time to get to know us by our names’. I wonder why someone so esteemed as yourself would know our lowly names beforehand? We are honored, of course, deeply, but I am curious about your generosity.”

He sipped his tea, quietly sighing in his heart. So they didn’t know yet. Should he tell them? And if he did, how much should he tell them?

Cian gave them a look again and quickly lowered his teacup deciding he didn’t want or felt like he should do any more than a friendly talk. He was already having a hard time dealing with his own expectations, he didn’t feel capable of dealing with five others. Especially since one of those, maybe even more than one would end up as his wife. His wife for the Gods' sake!

But he reigned in his temper. It was not the time or the place to lose focus. He was there to get a look at them and hope that would help him decide what to do next.

“Oh, why, I’ve heard it from your parents of course! I stayed briefly in their meeting with Mother so I did not hear much, but they had all the good words to describe their beautiful daughters.”

Cian almost faltered his smile at the end. Strange how none of them reacted to the secondhand compliment, wasn’t it? Having them up close to him would assure they were reacting truthfully and young girls always loved or loathed having their parents boasting about them. He stared a little bit closely at the one who made the question when she answered:

“...I understand,” and there was a hard sharpness to her eyes when she closed them to bow her head a little bit too higher than what courtesy demanded, “Many thanks to his Highness for your consideration.”

And he could swear he listened to a faint overtone of either disappointment or detached sarcasm in her words.

“Huh,” he said, suddenly very much interested, “What was your name again Miss…?”

When looked by him, people relaxed. People smiled. People talked and shared all the stories they had, such was the blessing of their bloodline. But not her. No, she reacted to his attention, he noticed, in a rather unusual way. She blinked quickly as if suddenly trying to get rid of a dizzy spell before staring straight into his eyes.

“Gabe. My name is Gabe.”