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“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he quipped, though his heart wasn’t in the jest. He moved on, threading through the crowd, his royal bearing parting the people in his path.
Arriving at the main park of the city, Theodore paused at its entrance, taking in the sight of the park in fall. Professionals lounged on benches, their laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves; children danced around the fountain, their innocent joy untainted by courtly intrigue.
“Prince Theodore, over here!” A group of young office workers waved him over to their picnic blanket.
“May we be graced with your presence, Your Highness?” one asked.
“Only for a moment,” he replied, accepting the invitation with a gracious nod.
“Is it true that you’ve traveled to every continent?” a man inquired, sandwich in hand.
“I have,” Theodore answered, his attention subtly flitting from face to face, his spirit undeterred by the elusive nature of his quest. “Well, every continent but Antarctica, which is a place only for penguins. But no view compares to the vitality of Theron’s.”
“Spoken like a true prince,” another praised. Theodore’s focus momentarily caught on a pair of laughing eyes across the way, only to sigh inwardly when they revealed themselves to be of a common brown, not the rare gray he sought.
“Your Highness, you must tell us about your grandest adventure!” a woman urged.
“Ah, my grandest adventure remains unwritten,” he mused. His eyes continued their vigil, darting from one person to another, forever hopeful and perpetually disappointed.
“Your modesty is as renowned as your valor,” the man chuckled.
“Modesty, perhaps,” Theodore allowed himself a small smile, “but my valor has yet to be truly tested.”
And as the lunch hour waned, so did the prince’s resolve. The park’s many faces blurred into a tableau of missed connections, none belonging to the woman who had unknowingly captured his heart with a mere glance. With a courteous bow, he excused himself from the company of the picnickers.
“Until we meet again, Prince Theodore,” they called after him.
“Indeed,” he whispered to himself. “Until we meet again.”
Theodore stepped into the whimsical chaos of Mr. Pendleton’s Toy Emporium, a place where childhood dreams were encased in glass and wood. The air was thick with the scent of varnish and the laughter of children. Bells jingled above the door, announcing his presence like a herald. His eyes swept the room, not for toys, but for those elusive gray orbs that haunted him.
“Your Highness!” Mr. Pendleton himself, a rotund man with a bushy mustache, emerged from behind a shelf of intricately painted soldier figurines. “What an honor! To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Pendleton,” Theodore replied with practiced affability. “I’m merely perusing your collection.”
“Ah, perhaps a gift for a niece or nephew?” Pendleton suggested, his eyes twinkling.
“Not yet, but hopefully soon,” the prince said. He knew the entire nation was waiting for his brother James and his wife, Amanda, to announce the impending arrival of the next generation of Theron royalty. Theodore focused his attention on the patrons—a mother herding two boisterous boys, and a young couple cooing over stuffed bears.
“Your Highness, if I may be so bold,” Mr. Pendleton ventured, “the rocking horses over there are a new import. Quite magnificent.”
“Thank you, I shall take a look.” Theodore obliged, his gait slow as he passed by rows of dolls with porcelain faces, none of which mirrored the visage he sought. His heart seemed to rock back and forth just as the vacant horses did, swaying between hope and despondency.
In the corner of the store, a little girl giggled as she hugged a rag doll, and for a fleeting moment, Theodore imagined a similar sound emanating from the woman he yearned for. He shook the thought away. “Charming toys, indeed, Mr. Pendleton,” he commented.
“Thank you, sir. We strive for nothing less than enchantment.”
“Enchantment...” Theodore echoed softly, pivoting on his heel, departing the emporium with a nod.
Next, he found himself before the vibrant display of Mrs. Linton’s Candy Shop. The saccharine aroma enveloped him as he pushed open the door, causing a tinkling melody to fill the small space. Jars of colorful confections lined the walls, their contents shimmering like jewels under the soft lighting.
“Prince Theodore!” Mrs. Linton exclaimed. “What a delightful surprise!”
“Mrs. Linton,” he greeted her. “I trust business is sweet?”
“Always, especially when you visit,” she chirped, flitting about the counter. “Perhaps some chocolate truffles? Or maybe our famed peppermint sticks?”
“Perhaps.” Theodore’s gaze lingered on a jar of silver-wrapped candies. “I would like a kilogram of these.” He would give them to everyone in the palace. He had no taste for sweets. He only wanted to find the woman who haunted him.
