However, the move to the new palace was delayed, as there was still so much to be done to perfect it. It had to be a residence fit for royalty, with no cause for embarrassment—that’s what Her Majesty Ada declared. And since her husband showed little enthusiasm for organizing their new home, she took the matter of arranging the royal household into her delicate but determined hands.
To that end, she left the children in the care of nannies and tutors and, with great delight, relocated to the capital. Under the pretext of overseeing the work of the builders and craftsmen, she immersed herself in the vibrant social life of the city.
But to ensure her family wasn’t left without supervision, Ada urgently summoned her sister, Greta, from the provinces. Greta was a deeply pious young widow (rumor had it that her sanctimonious nagging had driven her late husband to chronic drunkenness, which ultimately led to his demise). She had two children, with a significant age gap between them. Her eldest son, fourteen years old, stayed behind to manage the family estate in her absence.
Her younger daughter, Lorelei, accompanied her to the Forest Haven, as the old royal manor was called.
When Leon first laid eyes on his cousin, he was utterly astonished. Before him stood a girl of breathtaking beauty—long, golden-brown hair cascading to her waist, naturally lush and wavy without the need for curling irons; large eyes of a striking greenish hue; and delicate hands and feet, like those of an exquisite porcelain doll. Everything about this child was perfect, as if she had been crafted by a masterful artist rather than born to entirely ordinary, unremarkable parents.
His cousin was a year older than him, and thus a whole head taller. Someday, perhaps, the difference wouldn’t matter, but when you’re five and the object of your admiration is six, it’s a rather disheartening fact, to say the least.
“Hello!” she said with a sweet smile at their first meeting, immediately noticing his awe and openly reveling in it. “Are you Leon? The heir to the throne?”
He shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other and nodded.
“I imagined you a bit differently,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Oh well. You can call me Lori.”
He followed her like a shadow, simply admiring her beauty—the same way he loved to watch a sunset or the flight of a white gull over the lake. And the girl, already coquettish and playful at such a young age, found his silent adoration amusing. Her favorite pastime was devising challenging tasks for her little admirer.
For instance, she’d ask him to sneak a handful of candies from a box perched high on a shelf, reachable only by stacking two heavy wooden chairs atop one another. Or she’d send him into the forest to find a thrush’s nest and bring back the tiny eggs speckled with greenish spots, which Lori planned to turn into a necklace. Another time, she dared him to untie and release the fiercest dog, Fang, into the back courtyard—a beast even the adults feared to approach.
But Leon had a natural gift—animals trusted him. Perhaps he even understood them, sensing their thoughts and desires. So, untying the massive hound and letting it loose in the crowded courtyard, causing quite a commotion and panic, was no great feat for him. Destroying a bird’s nest, however, while a pair of thrushes fluttered above him, crying out in despair, proved to be a far greater trial. The boy couldn’t hold back his tears as he did it. Still, he took the fragile eggs, wrapped them in his cloak, and brought them to Lorelei. She merely nodded in thanks before turning her attention to something else. For a long time after, the birds haunted his dreams, and he’d wake up screaming, covering his face with his hands, terrified that the thrushes would peck out his eyes in revenge.
Lori was fond of his younger brother. Marcus was an incredibly mischievous and spoiled child, but he had learned early on the power of his charm and wielded it to his advantage as best he could.
At just three and a half years old, he already knew how to flash such a tender smile when asking for something that even the hardest heart couldn’t resist.
“My dearest Aunt Grettie,” he’d call his mother’s sister, and the stern aunt would melt instantly, forgiving Marcus for a broken cup or torn trousers. Leon, on the other hand, had no such knack, so sometimes he ended up paying the price for his younger brother’s antics.
“You must have put him up to climbing that tree, didn’t you?” Aunt Greta scolded the older nephew when Marcus, attempting to scale an old maple, fell and split his brow.
Leon hadn’t even been nearby during the incident—he was, as usual, wandering the forest. He only learned of what happened in the palace garden later, when he saw his brother with a bandaged head, sitting on their aunt’s lap like a wounded soldier, sucking on a large lollipop.
Leon was about to defend himself, but while he searched for the right words, Lori jumped in and began chattering away:
“Yes, Mother, I heard it myself—Leon was teasing poor Marcus, saying he’d never be able to climb to the top! It’s easy for him; he scrambles up trees in the forest like a squirrel, but Marcus is still little. It’s not right to treat him like that!”
Then she’d walk over to Marcus, hug him, and kiss his cheek, sticky with smeared sugar syrup.
Leon was punished, locked in his room, and forbidden from going to the forest. Of course, he escaped anyway—climbing out the window and returning late in the evening, dirty and soaked after falling into a swamp, from which some woodcutters had to rescue him.
Such misadventures were far from rare. Aunt Greta would clutch her head in despair, declaring that Leon ought to be sent to a strict boarding school, as he was incorrigible and would surely commit some crime sooner or later.
Meanwhile, Lori continued to mock and goad her cousin into new “feats of valor.”
If one of these challenges was so dangerous that his sense of self-preservation made him hesitate, she’d say, “If you do this, I’ll give you a kiss”—and just like that, Leon would lose all reason.
Though, once the task was completed, she never did kiss him, not even once.
One day, he mustered the courage to remind Lori of her promise. She widened her eyes and parted her soft, pink lips, looking as though his words had utterly shocked her.
“Leon, what are you saying? You can only kiss your husband! Are you my husband?”
The boy didn’t know how to respond. Finally, he mumbled quietly that when he grew up… maybe then… he could marry her…
“Well, then I’ll definitely kiss you!” the cunning cousin laughed, gathered up her voluminous skirts, and ran off into the garden, leaving a crestfallen Leon standing there, watching her go with devoted eyes...