xv.

THE CHATEAU APPEARED INTO VIEW AMONGST the damp French winter scape of this part of Toulouse, the village left on the horizon behind like a written love letter still lingering at the edge of some lovelorn's desk, unstamped, unenveloped-always reluctant to be dispatched.

The sun had set now, coating the sky in a slowly growing darkness.

But the sight of Isadora Tremaine's home, after that arduous confrontation with Samuel Harrison at Hutton and Sons, brought no expectant relief, for there, on chateau grounds, right in front of the building entrance, were four unfamiliar mounts being held at the ready by three uniformed stablemen-cum-groomsmen. Only one of the men's uniforms bore the colors of the Kingdom of Valence, while the other two men were adorned in similar yet unfamiliar colors.

"It appears we have guests, mistress," Lucy let out as she efficiently controlled the horse drawn buggy as their small party-consisting of her, Isa and little Archie-pulled up in front of the chateau entrance as well.

The visiting mounts-magnificent and large beasts that made Isa's four year old gape with awe-shifted in discomfort as the buggy pulled up to a stop behind them.

The family horse-named Major by the late Baron, Cinderella's father-appeared quite old and sickly in comparison with the radiant breeds with glowing manes and skin.

It seemed that Major noticed his shortcomings, for his too seemed to become at once irritable as the chateau gardener-who shared stable boy duties for lack of proper staff at the chateau-took his reins and let him away to the dilapidated stables beside the chateau buildings once the party had gotten off.

Isadora peeled off her gloves as she walked inside the chateau, past the radiant mounts as the groomsmen kept their gazes low and forms alert.

"Archie, darling don't," She called swiftly to the little boy as he made to attempt to touch the closest horse when they passed.

"Yes, Archie," Lucy started, gently taking his hand and steering him away, falling in step behind Isadora's frame as they walked.

"We don't know if they are friendly like Major is."

Frowning briefly, Archie nodded as the argument made sense in his head, and only then, it seemed, that he considered the horses' heights and initial largeness.

"Who's horses are they mama?" The boy asked curiously.

Isa stretched out her ungloved hands, her palms had gotten damp after constantly being clothed, and now the coldness in the air seemed to burn her damp palms.

"I don't know yet, darling," She spoke, keeping her eyes fixed ahead as they walked deeper into the chateau and soon came face to face with the foyer.

"Perhaps, grandmama has guests."

With full intention to ignore those guests, regardless of the possibility of them being royals, Isadora held up her skirts slightly as she started climbing the staircase, to make her way to her room upstairs.

Archie jumped up the steps, as Lucy held his hand to make sure he wouldn't fall.

Perhaps Cinderella had come to visit, Isa thought then.

It wouldn't be unlikely, considering the fact that the girl hadn't probably yet briefed her new husband and father-in-law on the intricacies of the battered relationship she had had with the Tremaines. Or maybe, the girl already had.

After all, it had been a more than a month since Cinderella had begged Isadora to attend to her. The girl was married now, and who's to say that she hadn't still told-

"Isadora!"

A familiar voice rang in Isadora's senses suddenly like a church bell being slammed with another church bell, and she halted in her steps on the staircase, turning her face to look at the composed figure of her mother standing at the entrance of the west drawing room on the ground floor.

Isa hadn't even been able to complete her ascent to the first floor and seek refuge in her chambers with Archie for brief minutes in peace before she was to be forced to face her mother in the woman's recently acquired and rather bothersome temperament on account of everything that had happened since the night of the royal ball. And with the failure of that endeavor alone, she sighed in defeat.

"Isadora," Lady Tremaine uttered, a tad more collectively now, as she met her eldest daughter's annoyed ebony eyes with an anxious resolve.

The woman glanced back inside the drawing room, forcing a sugar sweet smile on her face as she glanced assuredly at the guests seated inside who were invisible to Isa at present. Then, her mother gripped her own dark skirts and quickly rushed over to the foot of the stairs, gesturing to Isadora with a frantic bony and ring adorned hand.

"Quick, freshen yourself up," The woman hissed in a sharp whisper, before briefly anxiously glancing towards the drawing room again.

"Put the child to bed, His majesty King Alexander Casimir is presently in the drawing room waiting for you."

Isa's lips parted in shock. Of course, she had seen the foreign uniformed groomsmen stationed outside with the horses, how hadn't she drawn this conclusion?

Probably because it was an absurd conclusion to draw up, Isa argued with herself. For why would a king be in her drawing room at all? Why would he even visit her? What relation did they have for such an unusual feat to be even possible?

"Don't stand there gaping!" Lady Tremaine hissed, grabbing her own skirts and taking a giant leap to climb the stairs, two at a time, and rather viciously, before she stopped beside Lucy.

"You must make haste!" The woman tapped Lucy's arm in a shove, her eyes remaining fixed on Isa.

"Put the boy to bed," Lady Tremaine's sharp eyes found Lucy's next. "Make your mistress presentable and have her downstairs in five minutes!"

Isadora fought a reprieve-a retort-that would sufficiently remind her mother that Lucy was under no orders from anyone else but her. Still, the maid, having been reprimanded with such a tone, ushered herself forward and nudged Isa's arm, her eyes anxious and flitting.

Isa, bewildered that the king of Angria was in their living room, let herself be ushered upstairs quickly by Lucy, with her son trailing behind curiously.

Making Isadora Tremaine presentable was no arduous task, yet the girl held herself in a daze as she watched her reflection in the mirror as Lucy worked on her in flashes of haste yet the girl's attentions were always gentle and careful, regardless of the haste.

Isa's hair was redone again, bits and pieces that had fallen out from her updo were softly pinned into her do again, leaving loosely curled pieces to frame her face. The thick white silk ribbon threaded gently through her updo and tied off in a bow against her dark hair added a whimsical touch to her look and complimented the color of her cream gown-which she had just been made to change into, a slightly dressier version than the ones she usually wore around the house. After all, though there was haste, Isa didn't want to embarrass herself by appearing too eager.

She couldn't shake the unease out of her mind. Why was he here? What more could there possibly be left to say? Why was he still thinking of her? Despite her belief in herself, Isa couldn't deny the fact she had been chastened by the head of King Reginald's castle staff.

Try as Isa had by keeping the woman's-Prudence's-retorts out of her periphery, they had been spoken and they refused to leave the back of Isadora's mind. Those words had been like sharp jabs piercing the back of her mind, and now that the King of Angria-the very reason for those words being exchanged-was in the chateau drawing room, the sharp jabs seemed to hurt.

If Prudence was aware of this, she was probably rupturing her own nerves.

That thought was not any consolation as Isa kissed Archie on the forehead, leaving the boy to his toys with a gentle, "Darling, if you need me, I'm downstairs. Come and find me."

"Yes, mama," The boy had hummed, immersed back again into his world of wooden toys as he set about arranging another exclusive and detailed scene to orchestrate.

Isa left the chamber, instructing Lucy to stay with her son as she advanced solo down the stairs and made her way to the west drawing room, her heart hammering inside her chest.

She couldn't shake the feeling off. What was there left to say for the King of Angria to go as far as to come to the chateau? Surely he should've left for his own kingdom now that Prince Charming and Cinderella's wedding was over and done with. Not that his reasons to stay were any of Isadora's concern, but still, if he had matters to attend to, why was he here right now in her drawing room?

Technically, it wasn't her drawing room. It was Lady Tremaine's. As a gesture prompted by a turn of heart that remained a mystery to Isa, Cinderella had forgone her rights to the chateau and had signed them over to Lady Tremaine, without a penny being asked in return. Not that Lady Tremaine had pennies to offer, the woman had had the rights of the chateau for a month now and she was no where near the ability to afford it's repairs.

But still, in the ordinary world outside, what belonged to a mother belonged to her daughter as well, though that couldn't be the nearest to the truth in Isa's case.

Before she knew it, her mind had carried her away and she stood at the entrance of the west drawing room, entering as her eyes instantly met King Alexander Casimir's. The king stood up off the sofa in a haste that made something in the pit of Isa's stomach flutter wildly.

There was urgency in his manner, the likes of which she had detected in him before. Dressed in a dark brown suit with glittering badges representing his kingdom's colors and his achievements pinned at his chest, gleaming golden epaulettes at both his shoulders, his short dark hair brushed and smoothed in place, chocolate eyes glinting and wide on her. He wasn't wearing his crown this time, and his dark skin gleamed against the old soft green furnishings of the drawing room.

He had with him someone to attend on him-a guard wearing a hat and keeping his posture rigid and eyes low as he stood up with the King too, wearing guard insignia on his chest and the colors of the Kingdom of Angria.

"Ah, Isadora darling," Lady Tremaine bristled as she floated over to Isa's side, taking her eldest daughter's arm in an affectionate show of display.

"Your majesty," Isa curtseyed, finding her voice and her manners against the rapid beating of her heart.

"My lady," The King found his voice too as he cleared this throat and bowed his head slightly in reciprocation.

Lucinda Tremaine, also present in the room and having stood up now along with everyone else, let out a cough in the silence. Upon which Lady Tremaine shot a glare at her and she shrugged defiantly in response.

"Now, your majesty, I'm sure you have pressing matters to attend to after this so we shall all leave you be," Lady Tremaine began, her tone sickly sweet as she turned to look at Isa and patted her arm gently. "My Isadora will host you while I see to the refreshment preparations."

Isa's mind begged her to protest, but she bit the urge down as Lady Tremaine separated from her and gestured to Lucinda.

"Come, Lucinda."

Isa's younger sister's annoyance was clear on the girl's white and rouge tinted face as she dragged her feet to join her mother as the two made to leave the room. Their departure was excruciatingly dragged, until their gowns rustling against the floors were not heard anymore as their forms disappeared outside the west drawing room.

"Miss Tremaine," King Alexander of Casimir spoke then, his baritone hard and dominating as he took charge of the ensuing silence of the drawing room, advancing a few steps towards her before he stopped, maintaining a careful distance of five feet in between them.

"Your majesty," Isadora found herself speaking, her own voice unsure and words uncertain.

He paused then, letting a beat pass as his eyes bore gently into Isa's.

"You didn't come to the wedding?" He let out then, a sudden hesitance in his words as his earlier dominance wavered.

Isadora blinked. "No, mother and my sister attended. I had to stay back to look after Archie."

Her stomach felt unsettled at the excuse. It was a lie, of course. Archie was no excuse, it was just that Isa hadn't wanted to go. If she had had any desire to go, surely a royal wedding wouldn't be heartless enough to protest at the attendance of a little child.

"I understand," The king mustered, his eyes dropping to the ground before he met her gaze again.

"I trust your ankle is healed?"

The question startled her for a moment. She hadn't thought about her injury for a month now. It had healed up very quickly, and she had almost forgotten that she had gotten it in the first place, though she could all but forget the circumstances in which she had gotten it.

"Yes, your majesty," She managed. "It had healed very quickly. Thank you for your concern."

He nodded once, his jaw tight. There was reluctance in his manner, as though he was wanting to say something but was not really sure how to put it.

"How is little Archie? Healthy and well, I hope?"

"Yes, your majesty," Isa spoke the words again like a mantra, her fingers intertwined at the base of her stomach. "He is doing great."

He met her eyes in determination then.

"You weren't able to dine with me on account of your ankle that day," He started. "I had wanted to take you to the observatory too. Both those plans had fallen through."

His words were coated with regret and an underlying frustration, as though he was blaming someone for the misfortune that had befallen those plans he had made.

"I thought maybe I would see you at the wedding, I presumed that maybe then I would be able to ask you again."

Isa blinked. "Ask me?"

He nodded, his gaze unblinking and.. hopeful?

"To dine with me, to let me show you Reginald's observatory."

Her heart jostled in her chest, a raging beast trying to break free.

"Your majesty, please, I wish you would not bother yourself on my account," She forced out the words, clutching her own heart tight in a suffocating grip. "I understand you have engagements-other important matters to attend to. Please do not bother yourself for some plans that fell through. Do not feel obliged, it doesn't matter-"

"Doesn't it?" He took a step forwards, his eyes determined in hers. "Because it matters to me."

Isadora Tremaine's brows furrowed as her heart broke out of her grip again, pounding mercilessly in her chest.

The King let out an airy exhale.

"Tell me why this feels like the only thing that has ever truly mattered to me in a long while."

"Your majesty-"

"You're more beautiful each time I see you," The king broke off her words, his jaw tight as he remained firm in his posture, his arms pinned behind his back.

"You make me-," He shook his head, his gaze dropping briefly before it set it into her eyes again. "You make me lose my goddamned mind."

Slowly, he took a step near her again, and this time Isa could feel the warmth radiating off of his form, even in this chilly west drawing room which was long overdue for proper renovations to comply with the ruthless winter that would start to wage outside in less than a week.

"I've thought about you, Miss Isadora Tremaine," King Alexander Casimir spoke through his teeth, his jaw so tight Isa could see a vein throbbing in it.

"I've thought about you relentlessly, constantly, passionately."

Panic sweltered in Isadora's chest as her heart went numb, pounding so hard that it couldn't be felt inside her chest anymore.

"Do you realize the restrain it took for me to not seek you out the very next day of the royal wedding?" He prompted, his words hard but low and firm as he sought her eyes. "I had to hold myself back, thinking of how it would seem. Charming's joy was all around me, and as much as I tried to be present in it, all I could think about was you."

"What have you done to me?" His voice lowered some more, and Isa blinked, breaking away their gaze for she could hold it no longer, her hands shaking as she held onto her fingers tightly.

The guard with the King stood at the same spot he had been standing, his eyes pinned to the ground, no doubt hearing every word that the royal spoke. But the royal in question didn't care who heard or who didn't, not after the fact that she heard.

Isadora didn't know what to say. She felt a painful sting in both her eyes, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek in order to stop herself from tearing up.

No matter how much she had tried to refrain herself, telling herself all sorts of things just to that she could hold the foreign king's advances at a distance-just so that she could remind herself that both of them wanted different things from life, and that she had a child to think about. Every thought she had forced upon herself had been in vain, for if had it been otherwise, then why would she be feeling this painful tug in her heart? Why then would her heart be this inconsolable? Why then would it be bent on breaking past her ribcage and tearing through skin just to reach for him?

She bent her head, her eyes on the ground, no longer finding the courage to look at him.

"I am to return to Angria today," The king spoke then, and Isa's eyes raised to look at him again, startled at the declaration.

He was leaving? After saying all this? What had this all been then, a mere elaborate goodbye after he had roped her heart against her will? If so, Mon Dieu, it was cruel-he was cruel.

"My mother has already left, with an expressed desire that she wants to host her newly married nephew and his bride at our palace in Angria for a few days."

King Alexander Casimir's hands came undone from behind his back, resting at his sides, his ringed dark fingers slightly twitching.

"Reginald is also coming, if only for lesser days," The King swallowed then. "But I'm here, to invite you and your family to join us."

Isadora looked at him, her brows furrowing slightly. Why did he want her and family there? As relatives of the new princess of the Kingdom of Valence-in whose honor the gathering was being made in the first place by his mother? But that wasn't.. That didn't make sense. Surely there was no need for-

"I can show you my observatory," The King continued, his eyes gleaming.

"Truth be told," The King exhaled then, in slight frustration, "That your family, Miss Tremaine, is only invited for the propriety of it, for I only want your presence there. You and little Archie-at my palace, in my kingdom."

Isa took a step back, realization dawning on her at his words. He was only inviting her family because he had to if he wanted her there.

But why does she want to go? Why was her heart screaming at her telling her to agree? Could she be as bold as to leave her life in Toulouse behind if only for a few weeks on a whim for something that was not guaranteed in the first place?

Her mind rushed over the words the king had said to her. He told her he thought about her, he told her that he had to restrain himself from seeking her out, but.. weren't those the same sentiments that Samuel Harrison often expressed to her-didn't he say those things the last time she saw him at Hutton and Sons? Why did these sentiments mean more coming from the King? He hadn't given her any confirmation, and he wanted her mother and sister there for the propriety of it.

If he had had any plans-to ask for her hand-he'd have demanded her family's presence, not be forced to ask for it on grounds of propriety.

Isa bit the inside of her cheek, reeling her thoughts in. No. She could not pick up and leave just based on a whim.

The King of Angria could try a dozen hearts for size, but she could not.

With a sudden ache in her heart, she realized that though he was only a prince, Prince Charming had been much clearer with his intentions with Cinderella. Isa's stepsister might've needed clarity, but Isadora yearned for it and she had no space or time to settle for where it's not guaranteed.

She refused to be someone The King of Angria merely dabbled with for a season, and then moved on afterwards.

"Will you come?" King Alexander Casimir's chocolate orbs searched her ebony ones with hope and a certain desperation. "I will send a carriage to the chateau in two days from today for you and your family-"

"Thank you, your majesty," Isadora let out then, terrified suddenly at breaking through his sentence and not letting him finish. Would he punish her for it?

"For thinking of us. But I have to refuse. Your mother's intent is to celebrate family, and I doubt that our presence-"

"I aim to introduce you to her," The King shook his head in defiance. "You will be my guests, she wouldn't mind. My mother will be all too glad to receive you."

"Your majesty, please," Isadora implored, the sting in both her eyes sharp. "I beg your pardon, but I simply have to refuse. I cannot leave Toulouse at present, and Archie isn't really comfortable with a long period of travel in this cold."

It was cold, but using Archie as an excuse had once again come naturally to her, although she hated doing it. But Isa hoped her son would understand if ever he found out about her desperate offenses against his good name.

The gleam in King Alexander Casimir's eyes dulled, the hope on his face extinguished like a light. Still, he held himself, his disappointment making his jaw hard again.

Then slowly, he shook his head.

"No, don't refuse me on this. It is all I've thought about in the recent nights. It is all I've looked forward to."

"I'm sorry, your majesty," Isa's voice broke slightly, as she blinked her despair away. "I can't pick up and leave, if only for a few weeks. My life is here, in Toulouse. I can't bring myself to be somewhere I don't belong."

Before she could comprehend it, The King stepped closer and took her gloved hand in his.

"How will you know where you belong if you refuse to venture out? Perhaps Angria is where you belong."

The warmth of his hand seeped in through the silk of her gloves, pressing against her skin. Quickly, she retrieved her hand back.

"I apologize, your majesty," She forced the words out, "That your trip here has been fruitless."

Then she stepped backwards, putting in as much proper distance between them as she could.

King Alexander Casimir's facial features had gone stoic, the disappointment along with a dozen other emotions crowding in his eyes as his face remained hard, his jaw tight. He pinned his hands again behind his back.

"It hasn't, if you accept my gift," He mustered the words. "Atleast."

Isa blinked, tilting her head slightly as she looked at him.

"I had sent for a mare from Angria," His voice was thicker now, as though he too was forcing his words out, pushing past his dismay with brute force.

"For you," He glanced at the window of the drawing room from where the horses outside could be seen, the ones he and his guards had rode here on, and a fourth pretty cream coloured mare that Isa hadn't paid attention to before.

"She's gentle and strong," The King met Isadora's eyes, "Reminds me of you. I want you to have her. It would make my sleepless nights past, and the ones to come, worthwhile, knowing that you have received my gift."

Isadora looked at the mare from the window from where she stood. It was a beautiful creature.

"Thank you, your majesty," She met his eyes again, keeping emotion out of her voice as she curtseyed.

He took a hesitant step closer, as though he was reminded midway that she had put the additional distance between them in the first place.

"Can I have something of yours?" The King managed, his voice wavering slightly as he kept himself firm. "Something to remember you by?"

Isa blinked, panic fluttering in the pit of her stomach. This was an improper question to ask. What could she possibly give him? She had nothing the likes of a brand new mare to give a King. She had no rare jewels she could just untie from her neck and hand him. She had no exquisite gift to give. Still, even if she had, this was an improper question to ask.

Before she could respond, the king, sensing her hesitance, took several steps closer to her. She held herself in place, the wings underneath her skin fluttering wildly.

Then when he was so close to her she could smell his cologne-musk and notes of coarse flowers that tingled her senses-he reached his hand upwards.

Isa closed her eyes on instinct, bracing herself for whatever that he was going to do-to touch her, to put his fingers to her cheek. Her stomach fluttered wildly, anticipating those outcomes much to her rational mind's dismay.

But then, she felt only a gentle tug in her hair. She opened her eyes to find the King looking at her intently, his face so close to hers that their warms breaths mingled in the space between them.

His fingers pulled out the thick white silk ribbon Lucy had threaded into her hair do. After the king had retrieved it. He brought it to his nose, and breathed in it's scent deeply. Isa felt her heart battering against her ribcage painfully as she tore away her eyes from the scene. Then he folded the material around his pointer finger and it disappeared into his grip.

"I hope you don't mind me keeping this, Miss Tremaine," King Alexander Casimir spoke, "If only for my sanity."

Isadora swallowed thickly, and nodded. Then she stepped away from him. From the corner of her eye, she saw the darkness raging in the night sky outside.

"Goodbye, your majesty," She forced the words out as she curtseyed one final time. "I hope you have a safe journey back to your kingdom."

She didn't meet his eyes, instead kept her own fixed on the ground.

The king didn't say anything then, as he shifted from his spot and nodded to the guard at the ready. Then he approached her, and with her eyes on the ground, she felt him bow at her slightly.

Then, without a word, he turned and exited the west drawing room with his guard on his heels.

Isadora Tremaine watched him step out into the chateau grounds from the window in the drawing room. She watched him as he hoisted himself up on the horse he had come here on. She watched him as he turned directly towards the window and looked into her eyes-watching her watch him. There was so much in his gaze that made Isa's knees weak.

Then, he broke away after one of the last guards had handed the reins of the cream mare to the chateau's gardener and then mounted his own horse.

Then, the reins were pulled and the horses were rode out of the chateau grounds, and Isadora saw King Alexander Casimir disappear out of sight into the darkness of the Toulouse night.

It was then, that she found her heart's anger rage back into her. Gathering her skirts, she ran out of the west drawing room, almost crashing into her mother and sister as they had been just coming to her to find out the details of all that they had assumed had happened.

Pushing past them, she ran into the back garden of the chateau, letting the darkness envelope her as the cold air gushed past her, caressing her skin.

Then she found the nearest bench in the back garden, and her knees sank into the dirt and grass as she rested her arms lengthwise on the bench, buried her face in her elbows, and cried out her heart's despair.

***

A/N:
listened to "so this is love" while writing this chapter<3 also, please vote and comment if you liked this part, my writing inspiration def comes and goes at this point because my mids are coming soon.