At the Queen_s command

"None of importance soes I know." Nathaniel frowned. "Oh, one thing, if I could ask a favor, Highness."

"Yes?"

"You should be a-telling me and Kamiskwa to go off to hunt something."

"Because?"

Nathaniel's face soured. "On account of your Princess has got herself an idea about picnics. The Count, he has a good eye, so he's gone and got me and Kamiskwa measured for some fanciful clothes. You, too, mind, but you look a mite better in them than we do."

The Prince laughed. "Are you afraid of dressing for a dinner?"

"Not me, Highness. It's Kamiskwa." Nathaniel looked around, then lowered his voice. "He ain't never took to civilized clothes."

"I shall see if Her Highness will excuse your presence." The Prince brandished the note. "Let me go see to this, and then we can deal with your problem."

"Thank you, Highness."

Vlad retreated to his laboratory and cracked the letter's seal. Couched in very precise and flowery language, the Count had outlined the reason for the Princess' tardiness and the source of Nathaniel's anxiety. The Princess had determined to host a picnic and was supplying everything from furnishings to guests. In addition to herself and the Count, Mrs. Warren, Doctor Frost, his wife and daughter, would come Bishop Bumble, his wife and niece. She was supplying the food, wine, furnishings, and all other necessities to fulfill all social obligations.

He set the note down. The Frosts were most welcome. Likewise Rachel Warren, whom he had never met. Bishop Bumble, on the other hand, was someone the Prince tolerated in very small doses. To be specific, only on Easter and the Feast of the Nativity, when, as the Queen's representative in Mystria, he was required to attend Church services.

Bumble had gained some renown for his sermons. He'd even had them collected in a volume and had sent Vlad a copy. The man urged morality, fidelity, and adherence to the laws of God and the Crown. All good material, especially from the standpoint of someone desirous of maintaining societal stability.

And yet, whenever the Prince attended his services, the sermon became one directed at the ungodliness of Tharyngia. Bumble pointed out how that nation had once been great, but when it abandoned God and overthrew its rightful ruler, that all ended. In his thinking, science and its methods required the rejection of God. After all, anything God wished man to know could be found in the pages of the Good Book. If it was not there, it was unnecessary.

Bumble's one previous visit to the estate had left an indelible impression. Every other visitor stepped into the laboratory with a slack-jawed expression of wonder and amazement. That always delighted the Prince. Bumble proved the exception. His face closed, his words became clipped, and he sought to leave as quickly as possible.

If I abandoned this place while he was here, the laboratory would burn, I am certain of it. Men like Bumble could not separate ideology from methodology. Vlad walked over to the model of du Malphias' fortress. Careful measurements and other things demanded by science had created an invaluable tool for fighting the Ryngians; but to Bumble it would be fruit of a poisonous tree.

Vlad stared at the model, wishing that Bumble's God would decide to smite the real fortress. "It would certainly be convenient."

"What would be convenient, my lord?"

Her soft voice surprised him because of the hushed reverence and maturity in it. She had slipped through the door easily enough, being smaller than the average Teutonic woman. She wore her blonde hair long and loose. It had the warmth and glow of honey. Freckles distributed themselves playfully over a face that was a bit wider than Vlad expected, but her dark blue eyes were full of intelligence and curiosity. She wore a simple dress of local manufacture, quite modest and yet fetching upon her.

Vlad stepped to the side and bowed deeply. "Highness, you honor me."

She curtsied. "You did not hear me knock, Highness?"

Vlad glanced past her. "No, I fear…"

She shook her head, an insuppressible smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I have been told you are a man of great deliberation and concentration. Now I see it first hand. This pleases me, to know that unobserved you are as when you are observed."

Vlad looked at her curiously, his pulse quickening. "Thank you. I am as you see me, though usually not attired thusly."

"My lord looks very good in those clothes."

Vlad half-closed his eyes. "Please tell your tutors they have schooled you well."

"What do you mean?" Her brows arrowed up, not down.

Normally that question would have been asked in an offended tone but hers suggested consternation. "I mean that you are well schooled in the art of flattery, but I am not so much of a fool as to imagine that a girl like you could find me in the least attractive. We both understand this will be a diplomatic marriage."

She glanced down. "Is this how you see it?"

Vlad rubbed his chin. "Have I misjudged you?"