The Princess Search: A Retelling of The Ugly Duckling (The Four Kingdoms Book 5) Read online

  The Princess Search

  A Retelling of The Ugly Duckling

  Melanie Cellier

  THE PRINCESS SEARCH: A RETELLING OF THE UGLY DUCKLING

  Copyright © 2018 by Melanie Cellier

  First edition published in 2018 (v1.0)

  by Luminant Publications

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, stored in, or introduced into a database or retrieval system, in any form, or by any means, without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN 978-0-6483051-2-5

  Luminant Publications

  PO Box 203

  Glen Osmond, South Australia 5064

  [email protected]

  http://www.melaniecellier.com

  Cover Design by Karri Klawiter

  For everyone who wrote to tell me that

  the Crown Prince of Lanover also needed to find true love

  Contents

  Map

  Royal Family Tree

  The Palace of Light

  I. The Capital and the Islands

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  II. The Jungle and the Desert

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  III. Largo and Home

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Note from the Author

  Chapter 1

  Map

  Royal Family Tree

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  The Palace of Light

  “The trouble in Lanover grows closer by the minute.”

  The gray-haired woman twitched her wings and frowned at her companion. “Yes, indeed, and what of it?”

  The first godmother, her hair more white than silver, shifted uncomfortably. “Are you sure your goddaughter is up to the challenge?”

  “She never had a Christening. Officially, she isn’t my goddaughter.”

  The white-haired one rolled her eyes. “Don’t quibble. You know she’s still your goddaughter. Although I’m sure she thinks everyone has abandoned her.”

  The gray-haired godmother put her hands on her hips. “I may not have rescued her outright, but you know why. You know we’ve been weaving the threads into place for this moment for decades. Don’t tell me you’ve gotten cold feet now!”

  “Not cold feet, exactly.” The first sighed. “It’s just that my charges—all seven of them—have been through a lot lately, and I hate to leave them unaided at such a moment.”

  The second godmother frowned. “And my goddaughter has been through a lifetime of troubles. A lifetime she’s about to be forced to revisit. Nothing about this is going to be easy for any of them. But they’re not unaided because they have each other. Such challenges are not supposed to be easy. If they are to rule the kingdom someday, they must endure the difficulties before them and prove themselves worthy.”

  “Yes, you’re right, of course.” The white-haired one sighed again. “Only I do so enjoy helping to pave the way to true love.”

  The other shook her head. “If you find yourself so restless, why not pay a visit to Rangmere? I hear your widowed goddaughter there is on the painful path to love. And then you won’t be tempted to interfere where you should not.”

  The first smiled. “Perhaps you are right. An excursion will be a great deal better than all this waiting.”

  The gray-haired woman twitched her wings again, observing the empty space where her companion had stood a moment before. Now that she was alone, her face lost some of its earlier assurance. “I do hope I haven’t misplaced my confidence in the girl,” she muttered to herself. “Or else a great many things will be lost that should not be, and it may take us generations to get things back on track.”

  Part I

  The Capital and the Islands

  Chapter 1

  I didn’t need the tinkling of the bell above the door to tell me someone had entered my shop. For all she was only fifteen, Princess Celine knew how to make an entrance. I hurried to put down my work and greet her while my mind rushed to deal with the problem presented by her presence.

  “Your Highness.” I dipped into a curtsy, but the princess didn’t seem to notice. She was examining a bolt of my newest acquisition—a deep midnight blue shot silk. It was certainly an impressive material, and a number of other seamstresses had already tried to prize its source from me.

  Abruptly, Celine spun around. “I have a project for you. Your biggest yet.” The excitement on her face made my heart sink even further.

  Celine had surprising talent when it came to dress design. If she hadn’t been royalty, I would have invited her to join me as a partner—her instinctive grasp of fashion would have made up for any lack of skill with a needle. As it was, her suggestions had sparked some of my most brilliant creations.

  But I had received a visit the week before from no less a personage than Her Majesty Queen Viktoria herself. She had been flatteringly full of praises for my work, but I was fairly certain her commission for a ball gown had been intended to soften the blow of her true purpose. Because I had also been given extremely strict parameters to follow for any future designs made for the queen’s youngest daughter. It was such a pity, the queen had said, that I kept creating such masterpieces that no one ever got to see.

  I had winced at her words and rushed to assure her of my compliance. In fact, I agreed with her, even without the weight of a royal command. My excitement at our shared efforts had led me to create gowns for Celine that were—strictly speaking—too old for the young princess. One or two of them I had expected to create fashion trends and had been surprised not to receive a deluge of copycat orders. Now I knew why.

  I had made a name and a living for myself through great effort and toil. I had dragged myself from the muck without assistance from those who might have been expected to help me, and I had no great inclination to take orders from anyone. But I would not disobey the queen. I needed to stay on the good side of the royal family—their patronage had established me here in the capital. And I wanted my best designs to go to someone who would be permitted to actually wear them. But that still left me with the problem of the youngest princess.

  Celine spun around in a giddy circle, running her hand along several bolts of soft material. “I can’t wait to tell you. You’re going to be so excited. It’s a challenge worthy of your skill.”

  I frowned. I hated to disappoint her because the young princess was one of the few people who had given me reason to be grateful. She was the one who had discovered my small, newly-
established shop just over a year ago, and she had always treated me affectionately despite the difference in our ranks. Without her, I might still be struggling to gain noble clients. Without her, I would certainly never have received the commission for her older sister’s bridal and attendant gowns the previous summer. And since Princess Celeste was every seamstress’s dream—a girl who would look stunning in absolutely anything—I had been flooded with orders ever since her wedding.

  I considered my words carefully.

  Before I could speak, however, the bell tinkled again, and a different kind of figure strode into my shop. Tall, broad-shouldered, and with a palpable air of authority, the young man was a far cry from my usual customer. I immediately sank into another, deeper curtsy to cover my confusion at his appearance.

  I looked up again just in time to see Princess Celine roll her eyes. “What are you doing here, Frederic?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at her oldest brother. “I’m busy conducting business with Mistress Evangeline.”

  “Mistress Evangeline?” Although he said my name, Prince Frederic’s eyes regarded his sister in surprise. “Since when are you so respectful? I’d expect to hear you calling her Evie or something.”

  I blinked at the sound of my nickname on his lips, my surprise overwhelming my amusement at the truth of his words. She did usually call me Evie.

  Celine drew herself up to her full height and looked loftily at her brother. “I treat everyone with respect.”

  He chuckled darkly. “My dear Celine, you don’t know the meaning of respect.”

  I dropped my head to hide a smile since I wasn’t sure the prince had meant to be humorous.

  He turned to me and gave an inclination of his head. “I apologize for my younger sister, Mistress Evangeline.”

  Celine looked as if she were about to explode at this, but I quickly dipped into a shallow curtsy in response, hoping to head off any further conflict.

  I tried to remind myself that an exalted position said nothing of the person within, and that my position in the capital was assured by my own skill, not by royal patronage—however much that patronage advantaged me. There was no reason for me to be intimidated by the crown prince. And yet intimidated I must be, since I could come up with no other reason for my heart to be beating a great deal faster than its normal rate.

  The prince turned back to his sister. “You’re supposed to be preparing for our departure.”

  “I am!” She narrowed her eyes and dramatically shook her head. “Which is the biggest of the Four Kingdoms, Frederic?”

  He eyed her warily, sighing when she raised her eyebrows at him. “Lanover, of course.”

  “And which of the kingdoms is the most diverse?”

  He sighed again. “Celine.”

  She put her hands back on her hips. “Well?”

  “Lanover.” He drew the word out slowly, clearly cautious of whatever trap his sister was trying to set for him with the obvious questions.

  “Exactly!” She threw up her hands. “Unlike the other kingdoms, we have many different sub-cultures here. Tell me Frederic, what are the latest fashions worn on the islands?” She didn’t wait for him to respond, and he showed no desire to do so. “What about in southern Largo? Or among the jungle dwellers? What about the nomadic desert traders?”

  When he still said nothing, she gave a decisive nod. “Precisely!”

  My eyes lingered on the prince’s handsome face. He looked almost as confused as I felt. If the princess thought she had proved her point, she was sorely mistaken.

  Celine turned to me. “Men.”

  I had to suppress another smile at her world-weary tone.

  “I’m sure, if left to his own devices,” she continued, “my brother would simply pull on the first clothing to come to hand each day. Hardly befitting the crown prince of the most fashionable kingdom in the land! Which is why it’s such a good thing his sisters have always taken responsibility for his wardrobe. Only now that all the rest are married and gone, I’m the only one left. And the high and mighty Frederic doesn’t like to admit that his baby sister knows more about some things than he does.”

  “Really, Celine. Please.” Frederic cast an uncomfortable glance in my direction. I tried to maintain the blankest expression possible. Coming between squabbling siblings was always a bad idea, let alone when royalty were involved.

  “Oh, don’t mind Evie,” said Celine. “She’s my friend. And if you want this Royal Tour you’ve got planned to be a true success, then we need her. Because you’re not going to remind all our different communities of the might and glory of the crown if we show up looking out of fashion and dowdy. And never mind impressing them enough to put an end to these rumors of a new rebellion.”

  “Celine!” Now Frederic sounded both shocked and angry.

  His sister remained unaffected. “Oh, come on. You can’t think I don’t know the true purpose of this Tour. I’m not an idiot. And I already told you. We need her. And it’s in our interest for her to understand how important this Tour and her role is. You put me in charge of the royal wardrobes for the Tour, and I’m here to beg her to close up shop for the season and come with us. Because we’re going to need someone who can assess local fashions and ensure we’re the most impressively dressed everywhere we go.” She stared her brother down. “And that’s no easy feat. Do you know any other seamstress up to the task?”

  From the hopeless look on Prince Frederic’s face, I doubted he could name any other seamstresses at all. He had probably only given Celine the role of wardrobe mistress to placate her, but despite her earlier accusations, he now looked ready to accede to her points. In fact, he looked quite struck by them.

  “So, what do you say, Evie?” Celine turned to me eagerly. “Will you come with us? I know it’s a lot to ask. We leave in only a week.”

  A week! I gulped. I had heard some talk in the capital about the crown prince’s Royal Tour of the kingdom, but I hadn’t realized Princess Celine was going too. And I hadn’t expected it to affect me much, other than perhaps creating a quieter season given the absence of some of the royalty and nobility. It was a break I had welcomed after the hectic pace of the last year.

  But now the princess was asking me to finish all my current commissions in the space of a single week so that I could then embark on an even bigger challenge. And she was asking me to leave the capital just when I had finally established myself here.

  But this could be your chance, whispered an internal voice. Your chance to prove your worth once and for all. If you succeed at this, no one could ever question if you deserve your place again.

  I bit my lip as I looked between the two royals. Celine was watching me with hope-filled eyes, Frederic with curiosity. Something about his expression roused a defiant determination in me. I could do this. I would do this.

  “I am honored to serve the crown in any way I can.”

  The shadow of surprise in the prince’s expression filled me with satisfaction. I would show him what I was capable of—him and everyone else.

  “We are the ones who are honored, Mistress Evangeline.” Something about the prince’s grave voice inspired my imp of mischief. No wonder Celine couldn’t resist teasing her oldest brother—his serious demeanor was almost irresistible.

  “Oh, come, Your Highness,” I said. “Surely you’re not going to pretend familiarity with my designs. I suspect you didn’t even know my name before your sister used it.”

  Frederic froze, and Celine giggled.

  “Thank goodness you’re coming, Evie,” she said. “Frederic’s picked all the oldest, most stodgy courtiers to accompany us. Every single one regards me with horrified judgment, I assure you.”

  “Celine,” said Frederic stiffly. “You shouldn’t speak of them that way. They are loyal supporters of the crown.”

  She sighed. “Of course they are. But they’re also hideously boring.” She shuddered comically, her eyes twinkling. “Which means I would have been entirely stuck with you an
d Cassian for the whole Tour.”

  Dawning horror spread across Frederic’s face, and he gave me a half bow. “On behalf of myself and my brother, I must thank you again Mistress Evangeline. It seems we have many reasons to be grateful to you.”

  Celine winked at me behind his back, and I gave a small chuckle, looking up through my lashes at the tall prince. “Please, call me Evie, you might find it easier to remember.”

  He looked down at me, an arrested expression on his face. After a pause, he said, “Very well, Mistress Evie. Please report to the palace in six days’ time. We appreciate your assistance.”

  He stepped back and grasped his sister’s arm, attempting to drag her from my shop. She caught at the door frame and looked back at me. “I’ll come past tomorrow to talk some more and arrange a time for you to inspect our current wardrobes.”

  I nodded, but the prince had tugged her away before I could actually speak.

  I sank down into a convenient chair, my knees a little wobbly. Had I really just flirted with the crown prince?