"The good ambassador will show you to your rooms," the king said, once the great ebony palace doors had clanged shut. He snapped his fingers to summon the waddling Ambassador Wells to his side, a retinue of nobles and advisors having followed us in behind the princesses. The monarch said no more to me, dipping his head before turning off towards one of the many towers, his advisors trailing in his wake.

Well, that was that. Clearly my "warm" greeting had been more of a show for the nobles than a show of the king's true feelings.

"Marvellous place, isn't it?" Ambassador Wells said, letting out a low whistle and a nervous chuckled. My eyes followed the king, who did not seem to enjoy the idea of me being here, despite outward appearances before the other nobles outside.

"It certainly is impressive," I admitted. "I'd love to tour the city once you've showed me to my room."

"Yes, yes, of course!" the ambassador gushed, gesturing towards the tower opposite the king's. Dulciana and her sisters were headed the opposite way. My travelling companion didn't so much as spare me a glance, prattling on in Ardal with her sisters as they followed behind the king's advisors. The taller princess hung on her every word, while the shorter one kept darting looks my way.

Ana-Cristina, the beautiful one, I thought. The rumours certainly had been correct about her, her cupid's-bow mouth curving upwards as she caught my eye. The taller one was either Inés or Beatriz, the other two princesses of marriageable age on the Ardalonian royal family tree I'd studied back in Highcastle. Inés would be the same age as my own sister Anne, while Beatriz was the twin of the missing prince. Brigida and Sofia, the last two princesses, were both under the age of ten, likely off in a nursery somewhere, playing games or doing whatever young Ardalonian princesses did to pass the time.

"Which princesses were missing today?" I asked the ambassador, knitting my hands behind my back as he looked around at me.

"The youngest, of course. Ardalonian tradition keeps them relatively sequestered from strangers until they are older," the ambassador replied.

He was avoiding the question, much as he had when I'd asked about the prince.

Obviously I wasn't trying hard enough.

"I counted three," I said innocently, following him up the stairs. "Weren't there supposed to be six in total? Or perhaps I'm mistaken."

The ambassador made a little noise in his throat, whether out of annoyance or out of the exertion of climbing flight after flight of curving staircases, I couldn't tell. He was already huffing and puffing when we'd made it up but two floors, gesturing that he would tell me later, his face ruddy with exertion.

Or perhaps feigned exertion to better avoid my question.

I remained silent, following him up higher and higher, past landing after landing. The staircase curved around the inner part of the tower, a great gaping space open from the top to the bottom. The only light came from the sun pouring through a gilded glass dome overhead, at the very top of the open, spiralling staircase. We finally stopped before a heavy wooden door. The ambassador produced a key, the door sliding open on well-oiled hinges.

I made a mental note to have the lock changed. Or at the very least keep everything I didn't want prying eyes to inspect locked away in my trunk.

"Here we are," he said, waddling into the room and eyeing the pair of chairs around the dining table in the corner. Clearly he expected me to offer him a seat, but I wasn't about to grant him any favours until he answered my question about the princesses.

"It'll do," I said, swiftly inspecting the suite of rooms I'd been granted. They curved around the tower, with a view down towards one of the gardens flanking the glass-roofed ballroom. Windows dominated the walls, with gauzy curtains swaying in the salty breeze. A terrace jutted off the bedchamber, the sea visible just beyond the palace walls. The sitting room boasted a number of comfortable chairs and a hearth that was so pristine I wondered whether they ever used it.

"Your service bell is just here, though with the ruckus at the docks your valet may not have arrived yet. I'm certain it won't be long for your trunks either, if you'd care to change first," the ambassador said, gesturing to the wall near the door. He leaned against one of the dining chairs, the flush gradually fading from his face.

I stared at him, waiting for him to answer my question. He simply smiled at me, blinking uncomfortably and looking away, only to glance back and find me still staring at him.

"Your Highness, perhaps we should head-" he started, when the awkwardness of the situation began to thoroughly overwhelm him.

"We will leave once you've answered my question. Unless, of course, there's something about the princesses that the king intends to hide from me," I said, folding my arms.

I noted the way the ambassador swallowed before his finest, most reassuring smile curved his cheeks.

"Of course not, your Highness!" he said, wringing his hands before he realized what he was doing and stopped. "Ana-Cristina and Inés were present to greet you. Princess Beatriz is...with her brother."

Interesting, I thought, fighting back a sigh. I wasn't foolish enough to press the issue of the missing twins, but there was certainly something amiss that I intended to clarify. I also didn't doubt that Ambassador Wells would be troublesome to deal with, especially as I'd had to wrest the information about Frederico and Beatriz from him. Clearly someone owned him and had attempted to still his tongue, but whether that someone was an ally or a foe, I had yet to discover.

~*~

Everything in Ardalone was hot. As the sun crept higher in the sky, even the sea breeze turned warm and humid, not at all as refreshing as I'd hoped it would be. As I toured High Relizia, heat shimmered off the pale stone of the palace and its surrounding palacios, the proper term for the massive homes of the Ardalonian nobility. The streets were pristine, with statues and fountains at nearly every intersection, but there were decidedly few people outdoors, besides the pairs of guards on patrol.

Between bouts of mopping his forehead with a handkerchief and pausing in the shade to guzzle water from a canteen he'd brought with him, Ambassador Wells educated me about all the Ardalonian noble houses. In a somewhat archaic tradition, they remained divided according to profession, with High Relizia split into four distinct sectors for each of the four houses of the highest nobility.

"The economy here is built around four major resources," the Ambassador explained, as we sat on one of the many shaded benches in the central square, palm fronds swaying overhead. "Each of those resources is controlled by a noble family that holds the majority of the land connected with them."

"The oceans, the mines, the forests, and the plains," I replied, trying not to roll my eyes. I'd been over this countless times back at home in Highcastle, with Lord Wentworth. I knew why Ardalone was poised to fall: its noble houses refused to relinquish even the smallest bit of their lands and powers to appease the starving, long-suffering commoners. As a result, dissension had spread like a plague, festering and fermenting in the minds of the commoners for years.

"The Duque Delmar lives there, with the rest of his liege lords to the east," the ambassador said, pointing to a house perched atop the same cliff shared by the palace. It was easily the largest of the High Relizian houses, with grounds that sprawled from the palace walls to the brown fortress surrounding the hilltop oasis of nobility.

"Francisco Barcolino, yes." I said, my patience waning as the fortress wall caught my eye. "I assume that one, to the north, is the Duque Dellanos, as he's the second most powerful. The Duque Delminas is probably the one with all the fancy stonework, while the Duque Delbosque is obviously that one with all the groves of fruit trees."

The ambassador gaped like a fish before snapping his mouth closed, flustered.

"The history lesson is appreciated, but I did my homework before I left Highcastle," I said, pushing off the bench to squint up at the fortress walls. "Besides, it's not the nobles' houses that interest me. Show me the real Relizia."

"Your Highness," Ambassador Wells began, wringing his hands again. "It's far too hot to visit lower Relizia. No shade, no fountains, and the smell...it's not a place for royalty, as you saw this morning."

"Then show me the view," I conceded, knowing it had been too much to hope for that he would agree to take me down among the common folk.

Can't blame me for trying, though.

The ambassador muttered something that sounded terribly like an Ardalonian curse as he pushed himself up from the bench, that too-bright smile back in place as he gestured for me to follow him.

The stairs to the fortress battlement were guarded rather heavily for the middle of the day, but the ambassador was quick to charm the guards with his accented Ardal. All at my expense, of course, "nosy prince" that I am. Even if I didn't understand the language, I'd have been able to guess at what he said from the way the guards guffawed and inspected me, agreeing amongst themselves that I certainly seemed like a nosy northern brat.

I longed to correct them, to tell them that I was, in fact, el principe idiota, but of course that would have ruined my ruse. Instead, I offered my most charming smile as if I had no clue that they were laughing at me at the behest of the ambassador.

I took the stairs two at a time, forcing Wells to huff and puff to keep up with me. Despite the lack of shade, the breeze was gusting in earnest atop the fortress wall, more refreshing here than in the humid streets of High Relizia. Up so high, the multifaceted seashell roofs glittered under the midday sun, the lower city almost as beautiful as its frigid, manicured, noble counterpart.

"It is a...beautiful city...indeed," the ambassador managed, wheezing as he mopped his brow with his handkerchief, joining me as I peered down through the battlements. I didn't dignify the statement with an answer, choosing instead to inspect the city beneath me. The wall dropped down into Relizia proper, the tattered, weathered roofs of shacks and hovels squatting against the wall in the alley that ran the circumference of the fortress. The buildings lining the streets were all painted in bright colours, some with murals reflecting the storefront's trade or business. The streets themselves, clogged with pedestrians and mule-drawn wagons, curved down the hill, snaking their way down towards the commercial docks where we'd landed earlier.

"I'd like to visit it," I said eventually, once the ambassador had caught his breath. I shouldn't have bothered waiting for him, as my words had him sputtering almost instantly.

"I would counsel against it, your Highness," he said, "Cutpurses and murderers run rampant in parts of the city, even the nicer ones. High Relizia has all that you could possibly need, there's no need to leave."

I made a noncommittal noise in my throat, undeterred. If the ambassador wouldn't take me, I'd find a way down there myself.

As if he could read my thoughts, Wells cleared his throat.

"It is not a safe place for those of title and means," he said, his pale eyes wide to ensure I understood. As if his words hadn't been sufficiently clear, I thought.

Clear enough to have me wondering what he didn't want me to see in lower Relizia.

"Do any nobles ever visit Relizia?" I asked, peering down the sheer, brown rock face towards the colourful houses and the bustling streets.

"Never," Wells huffed, before amending, "Or, rarely, I suppose. There is not much of use down there. The servants fetch the food from the markets and whatever else you might require. Besides, it is far more pleasant here."

He gestured to the palm trees rustling in the salty ocean breeze, the endless green lawns and tinkling fountains, the clean, sharp lines of the paved roads. All of it was an attestation to the wealth that resided here, glaring in comparison to the seashell-roofed houses below. For while they were colourful, most of their paint was chipping, their shutters swayed on broken hinges, and the garments hanging on clotheslines were all well-worn and threadbare.

There was no middle class here, I realized. Only the workers below and their masters above, living in this pristine hilltop eden. High Relizia loomed over those who toiled and bled for the nobles that resided here, ceding nothing of their power or privilege to help those squatting in shacks and run down houses below them.

"Well now, it seems I've shown you everything of interest in the city," Wells said, patting his substantial stomach. "Shall we luncheon?"

"Of course," I said, gesturing for him to precede me, if only so I could throw a last glance down to the sprawling hillside streets of Relizia. If I was unsuccessful here, if Dulciana took the throne despite my efforts, perhaps there was some hope of unseating her after all.

For I was a master of sowing trouble, how hard could it be to drive such a repressed people to rise?

**A/N: The ambassador's true colours are starting to show...or maybe he's just grumpy that our main man has him traipsing about in the hot sunshine? I know you're all itching for more of the princesses (just like Thomas haha), but I'm still eager to hear your predictions! Let me know who you think will win Thomas' heart so I can see if I'm still keeping you guessing ;)

As always, if you enjoyed it, please don't forget to vote and comment! You're all the best :D **