Rumpelstiltskin (Timeless Fairy Tales #4)
Page 14Lady Linnea drooped. “I did. After I discovered where you were being kept, I was going to smuggle in a weapon for you. It is to my shame that I must admit I took too long in finding you. I’m not certain I can travel home, obtain a proper weapon, and return here before my parents realize I am gone.”
With Lady Linnea’s disappointment practically tangible, Gemma felt obligated to encourage her and say, “It was a good plan.”
“Yes, but now I will have to use my backup plan. Something I didn’t want to do.”
“You’re not going to approach the King,” Gemma said. (One could never be certain with Lady Linnea.)
“No,” Lady Linnea said to Gemma’s relief. “I’m going to seek out Prince Toril.”
“WHAT?” Gemma hissed.
“I have to go. I need to catch him before he is called to dinner with his father. Wish me luck!”
“I will wish you no such thing. Lady Linnea!” Gemma said when Lady Linnea momentarily disappeared from view. The lady reappeared when she climbed high enough up the wall that Gemma could see her again.
“When this is over, I insist you make me a new second-best dress.”
“Ta, ta!” Lady Linnea said, kicking her legs over the wall and jumping to the other side.
Gemma rubbed her forehead. “Grandmother Guri was right. Instead of having children or friends, I should have gotten a goat. If she gets herself killed, I won’t forgive her!”
After a tip off from a gossipy lady’s maid, Lady Linnea found Prince Toril moping on a bench placed near the shore of Lake Sno.
Lady Linnea smoothed her usual polite mask over her face and approached the prince with all the elegance she could muster. She could do this. She had to do this. Gemma was counting on her.
“Prince Toril,” Lady Linnea said in a soft, whispering voice that she used because it was an audible representation of the caress of silk on skin. “I must beg your pardon for intruding, but I am in a terrible plight. I need your help.”
Prince Toril looked away from the lake long enough to glance at her. “What do you want?” he sighed.
Gritting her teeth, Lady Linnea tried curtsying. “My name is Lady Linnea Lovland. Your father has imprisoned my servant. He means to kill her if she cannot spin flax into gold—a feat most impossible for all—even a mage.”
Prince Toril crossed his legs at the ankles. “So?”
“No,” Prince Toril said.
Lady Linnea placed a hand over her heart. “But why not? If you spoke to your father, I know he would release her.”
“I don’t care. I don’t care about you; I don’t care about your servant; I just don’t care. Now leave me be,” Prince Toril said, looking out at the lake.
Lady Linnea blinked. She had always been told Toril was a dimwit, but that he was at least kinder than his father. The general population lived for the day his father died, and he would take over. What had him huffy?
“You cannot mean that, Prince. We are your subjects,” Lady Linnea persisted.
“Yes? Well, I hurt too,” Prince Toril said, standing up and running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I have loved and lost the pinnacle of females: Princess Elise of Arcainia. She will never have me, and so nothing matters! If you will excuse me,” Prince Toril said, striding down to the lake waters.
The water was icy cold, so the prince didn’t dare walk in. Instead, he settled for moodily trekking down the shoreline.
Lady Linnea watched him go with a scowl. Everyone in Verglas had heard about Prince Toril’s fancy for the Arcainian princess, but Lady Linnea had thought he would be over the worst of his heartache by now!
The prince didn’t stop. He continued his moping walk.
She glanced over her shoulder when they rounded a bend in the shoreline that took them out of sight of the palace, screening them behind trees. As soon as it was safe, Lady Linnea ran the remaining distance to the prince and smacked the branch on top of his head.
The branch broke, and Prince Toril fell like a sack of potatoes.
“What was that for?” Toril groaned as he tried to pick himself up.
“Listen, you imbecile,” Lady Linnea said as she plopped down and grabbed the prince by the collar of his shirt. “I don’t care about your failed romantic dalliances. In fact, after seeing you mope like a spineless swineherd, it’s no wonder she rejected you! What I care about is my seamstress, and she’s going to be killed by your bloodthirsty father. I will not let that happen!”
“W-what?” Prince Toril stammered.
“Are you addled? Do you not understand the words I am speaking most plainly? Fine. Then I will put it in terms you can understand: SAVE. MY. SERVANT. OR. ELSE!” Lady Linnea said, shaking the prince.