The Secret of the Seven Princesses

Secrets Chapter 12

28 September 1707

Again, I take up my quill to write of the unusual occurrences that have happened around the castle lately, particularly since His Majesty issued the proclamation for the prince contest almost three months ago. In that time, we have yet to go more than a couple weeks without having a guest arrive to try their hand at winning the hand of one of the princesses.

Though I understand His Majesty's motives for implementing this competition, I can't help but regret the trouble it brings to the household and our daily routine, especially since many of the contestants have been less than pleasant in their treatment of the servants, the household staff, and the princesses themselves. I also can't help but notice that, though we have had several visits and princes try their hand at the contest thus far, they have all failed. It certainly seems to me as though this competition is a fruitless endeavor, but who am I to question the judgment of a king?

The princesses have succeeded in keeping their secret. After many nights of observing them at dinner, I believe I have determined how they've been able to accomplish this. A few nights ago, I happened to see Princess Cliodne slipping a vial of some substance into Prince Delvin's goblet. I suspect that this unknown substance—it looked to be a powder—is actually a sedative of sorts, to ensure that the contestant remains safely unconscious and oblivious to their secret. Though I know my duty to the king, I can't bring myself to tell him about his daughters' methods. In fact, I am partly relieved that their actions have prevented any of the princes from taking advantage of their sleeping arrangements, or even winning the contest altogether. Not to cast aspersions on any of their characters, but I have had serious doubts about each of the men who have entered.

The first contestant, Prince Tavle of Auchlin, did not receive a good reception from anyone in the palace. My own acquaintance with him was limited, as I spent the majority of his visit arranging space in the stable for his six carriage horses, not to mention clearing space in the adjoining field for the carriage itself, which was at least twice as large as King Gustave's finest. Far from being impressive, it seemed nothing if not unwieldy, and very inconvenient for his hosts. It all came to naught; I received word at six the next morning that Prince Tavle had been found climbing the roof near the kitchen's chimney, shouting for help in getting down. When questioned, he was unable to give any response other than a muttered "Maybe they're not so beautiful after all." We are unsure as to whether he was referring to the stars or the princesses themselves. The princesses were just as tight-lipped, revealing nothing save that they had thought the Prince knew how to get down from the roof. After that debacle, I never missed another dinner—I found them far too entertaining.

The next contestant to appear was Lord Culwich of Yugolf, a duke who lives just beyond the northwestern border of Kyoria. It was a good thing that his property was not located within the country itself, or his banishment would have been problematic. In person, Culwich was a rotund individual who put away more food than the entire royal family combined...for the last few weeks, even. The princesses all seemed to share a marked disgust over his eating habits and physical appearance, not to mention his personal hygiene. At more than one point during the meal, I observed him using his dinner napkin to mop his sweat from his round, reddish face, then using the same napkin to wipe his mouth and hands clean of food. This surely didn't go unnoticed by the princesses; I particularly took note of Princess Eralie's marked avoidance of even looking in his direction.

Somehow, I wasn't surprised that Culwich was quite as unsuccessful as his predecessor. The next morning, he was found fast asleep in the middle of the dining room table, on top of the golden platter that Cook usually reserves for special occasion roasts. With his straight brown hair, slightly protuberant lower jaw, and the apple that someone had stuck into his mouth, he looked remarkably like a giant boar. I could hardly keep from laughing. It took several minutes to wake Culwich and even longer to explain the situation to him and His Majesty. We were in no way aided by the princesses, who seemed entirely without remorse even as they tried to deny their part, particularly Princess Petra: "But Father! You know I'm allergic to apples!" King Gustave knew no such thing, and even I had to admit that her defense was weakened by the fact that she drinks apple juice every morning for breakfast.