Mirabel’s mind was in turmoil as she strode down the hall towards her husbands study. She was certain of what she had just seen, but the impossibility of it made her doubt her own eyes. The girl was the spitting image of Cerridwen, but how was it possible? The odds of the child not only surviving, but winding up in this city, and meeting her son? Each coincidence just added to the impossibility of the situation until it seemed like only godly intervention could have orchestrated events to unfold as they had.

The gods were a finicky lot, and always had a reason for what they did. Unfortunately sometimes the reason for their actions seemed to be for their own amusement. It would be just like the gods to orchestrate events so that a princess would have to lead a life of thievery and who knew what else! Well, they would just have to fix that. Mirabel stopped in front of the large, heavy doors to her husbands study, nodding politely to the guards stationed outside. “Please announce me.”

Officially, she didn’t even have to say please, but she approved of politeness across the board, it went a long way towards fostering happiness in the staff. And happy staff equaled loyal staff.

The guards bowed to her, surprisingly fluid in their heavy metal armor. One of them opened the door, his deep voice reverberating through the metal as he spoke. “Your Highness, Queen Mirabel to see you sir.”

“Ah! She’s early, please send her in.” Cynewulf’s voice was warm like sunlight to her soul, and Mirabel smiled, a bit of the turmoil in her settling. Whatever may come, they would face it together.

The guards bowed her through the door, her maid Yarina taking up position just across the hall. She knew Mirabel’s habits, and that she wouldn’t be needed in the kings study. It was one of the few times they could find privacy between the guards, the servants and the children. She hurried across the deep blue carpet, taking only a moment to set the wine glass she had taken from Dani down before grasping Cynewulf’s hands and giving him a soft kiss. “Hello husband.”

“Hello wife.” He chuckled and pulled her into a close embrace. “It isn’t lunch time already, is it? The girls aren’t being fussy with their nurse, are they?”

“The girls are being fine, the last I saw they were playing with their dolls. Melody was quite adamant that hers was a knight coming to rescue the princess, and Cynthia was being adamant that her princess didn’t need rescuing.” She smiled, giving Cynewulf a squeeze.

She could feel his laughter rumbling up from his chest. “That’s my girls. But then, what brings you here so early?”

“News.” She stepped away, earning a raised eyebrow from Cynewulf.

“Serious news indeed. Do we need a drink for this news?”

“Perhaps. I fear it will cause some complications. But I hope it will lead to peace and joy in the long-term.” Mirabel smiled softly. She watched as Cynewulf paced around his desk, his smile fading into a thoughtful frown.

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“You are being cryptic my dear. Am I meant to guess what news you bring? Does it have something to do with our sons thief? I hope you haven’t gotten it into your head they should marry!” Cynewulf poured them each a glass of wine, glancing to the one Mirabel had abandoned with a raised eyebrow.

“The wine was Lady Daniella’s. Or should I say Princess Daniella’s.”

“Princess? You do have it in your head they should marry! I refuse to allow it.” Cynewulf set a glass of wine down gently in front of her, his voice firm and uncompromising. “Do you have any idea what such a union would do to our relations with the other nobles? They would take up arms against us!”

“And if our son decides he loves her? Would you still deny the match?” Mirabel pressed, wanting to know his thoughts on the matter before she told him her suspicions.

“Of course. Mirabel, the only place matchings like that work are in fairy tales. And even in those they often have dire consequences.” Cynewulf sat down behind his desk, his chair framing him perfectly in dark blue velvet. “That is if they work at all.”

Mirabel picked up her wine glass, taking a delicate sip. The cool liquid tingled on its way down her throat, and she took her time enjoying it as she considered what to tell her husband. She wasn’t one to keep secrets from him, but the idea of Wulfram falling in love for the girl for who she was regardless of her social status appealed to the romantic in her. But was he strong enough to stand up for her? Afterall, the pressures of society could be much harder to withstand than the pressures of war, especially in matters of the heart.

“Mirabel, I hope you didn’t come early to try and convince me to let the pair marry.” Cynewulf said, his voice carrying a tone of warning. “Especially if we happen to find this lost princess of Hesiodos. That marriage was meant to cement our relations, and could yet if we’re very lucky.”

Mirabel leaned forward, unable to hide her excitement. “And if she happens to be the lost princess?”

“What?” Cynewulf looked at her, dumbfounded. “Mirabel, what are you talking about?”

“I met her today, she’s the spitting image of Cerridwen.”

“Mirabel, there’s no possible way the thief is her. It’s just a coincidence!” Cynewulf downed his wine rapidly, earning him a look of disapproval from Mirabel.

“It’s her, I’m sure of it.” Mirabel said, watching as Cynewulf poured himself a shot of whiskey. Which only earned him an even more disapproving look. “It is too early in the day for such a strong drink, husband.”

“Not when you’re spouting nonsense about a thief being a princess my dear.” Cynewulf said dryly.

Mirabel stood up, setting her glass down gently on the corner of her desk. “It is not nonsense, but I suppose I can understand you believing so. And if I am right, I expect you not to stand in the way of their marriage.”

“If you’re right I’ll not only allow the marriage, but provide a dowry for the girl.” Cynewulf sat back down in his large chair, leaning into the dark blue velvet. “On top of whatever Hesiodos wants to provide.”

Mirabel smiled and gave a nod of approval. “It is a deal then.”

“Not so fast my dear, what happens when you lose your wager? What do I get?” She didn’t miss the flash of mischief in his eyes.

She smiled sweetly at him. “Then I will not push the issue of marriage any further. For our son or daughters. I know you were debating having one of the girls marry into the Empire of Black Ice to cement that relationship.”

“I was, but the idea isn’t set in stone. What if I want something more personal?”

“More personal?” Mirabel laughed. She stepped around the desk to give him a soft kiss. “What is more personal than love?”

He pulled her down onto his lap with a grin, making her let out a girlish laugh. “Nothing my dear, nothing at all.”