A Not-So-Grimm Fairytale

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  The procession of the Chief Justice through the lands of Qarte was quite the sensation, though the real reason was concealed. The king had agreed to present it as the court coming to the people, though he didn’t like to encourage the idea that it was actually necessary to become familiar with those he ruled. Prince Alferonzo was no more enthusiastic after a week of riding over bad roads in the splendid but stuffy second-best royal carriage, and spending the nights in painfully overdecorated rooms of some local notable or other. Still, he had a job to do—two jobs, if one counted the fact he presided over local court proceedings as well—and lost no opportunities to size up likely contenders for the post of one true love.

  Sizing up was all he could do, because he quickly discovered the provincials were no more able to see past the superficial than the titled dandies he’d solicited to the court. Bella stayed his hand from more direct revenge for the pitying looks and the snide whispers, so he did no more than silently promise himself to double the taxes for this or that province when he was king. In the fullness of time, of course.

  By the second week, they were far from his father’s palace, and hardly saw a dwelling above a single storey. They journeyed through deep forests and open lands populated mainly by sheep, feasted each night on deer and purchased victuals, and slept in tents—something, Prince Alferonzo had to admit, pleased him better than the overstuffed and mite-infested beds that had been inflicted on him too often. But there were few people, and fewer of comely enough appearance to attract the attention of a royal prince. Bella counselled patience, and Wat gave him nightly massages. Still, Prince Alferonzo fretted and wondered if he wasted his time.

  But then as they travelled through an area of common land, with fields of grass that stretched to the hills far beyond, their caravan had to pause while a flock of disrespectful sheep took their time crossing the road. Prince Alferonzo spotted a young man at the back end of the mass of wool.

  “Stop!” he cried, and the carriage braked with a jerk and irritated whinnying from the horses.

  “My prince?” Wat asked.

  “That man! Bring him to me. He’s...oh, Bella, look.”

  His sister did. The sun glinted off the golden curls, and the perfect high cheekbones. The collar of his shirt lay across a long and elegant neck, and muscles bulged in the honest linen sleeves.

  “Yes. Oh my,” she said, fanning herself.

  “Wat, run, quickly. Tell him the prince heir of Qarte wishes his attendance.”

  Wat bowed, and dismounted. Prince Alferonzo and his sister watched as his manservant engaged the luminously lovely young creature in conversation. Prince Alferonzo could barely contain himself. Surely it was a sign....

  The lovely creature—whose name, most charmingly, was Eric—did not flinch when presented to the heir to the throne, though he was clearly confused by the sudden appearance of royalty in his quiet glen.

  After arranging for his flock to be attended by Prince Alferonzo’s senior huntsman, Eric accepted the gracious invitation to dine in the prince’s own tent. Prince Alferonzo smiled to himself as his pretty shepherd became most becomingly tiddly on fine wine. Oh yes—he could love such a gorgeous innocent. He dismissed Wat and asked Bella to retire, and promised himself a pleasant few hours introducing this sweet youth to the joys of manly love. It surely was a sign....