When I approached their table I dropped into a curtsy of the proper respectful depth, which I almost fell right out of when I recognized the king as the simple-faced gentleman who had opened the door the evening prior. He gave me a tiny, sheepish wave, and I smiled to cover my confusion. Apparently this kingdom had far more quirks than our scholars had bothered to note! The queen beside him was a coldly beautiful woman, with exquisite posture- but her stance bordered on rigid, and the look in her eye was hard.
“Your Majesties,” I began, “I bring greetings from my father, His Most August Majesty-“
“Yes, your father,” interrupted the Queen. I clamped my mouth shut and swallowed my next words. One does not interrupt a queen- even if she had interrupted one first. “Your father the king, correct?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Which means that you are, in fact, a princess?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I am Princess Arabella Gabr-“
“Mmm, so you claim.” I clamped my mouth shut again, and ground my teeth together beneath another smile. I could not fault this woman for doubting me- after all, I had arrived in the middle of the night, with nothing to prove my rank or fortune. And not everyone had been raised to my mother’s standards of etiquette.
“How did you sleep?” she snapped, and I blinked at the sudden change of subject.
“Oh, quite well, Your Majesty,” I lied. Although my royal mother does not approve of lying, per se, even she will admit that diplomacy often requires it. And as I have mentioned- a lady never complains: especially when a lady has imposed upon someone in the middle of the night in the first place.
“Really?” the queen asked, her eyes narrowing. “You found the bed… comfortable?”
“It was the most well-padded bed I’ve ever encountered,” I said, striving for something less blatantly deceitful. “Soft as a cloud.” And about as stable, my aching back added.
“Hmm,” she said, and gave her husband a knowing look. “And why was it your father sent you to us in the middle of the night?”
“He did not intend for me to arrive in the middle of the night, Your Majesty, nor did he intend for me to arrive unaccompanied. My retinue was set upon by bandits, and I was lucky to escape with my life.”
“Terribly thrilling story,” the king piped up, giving his wife a foolish grin. The queen glared at him, then turned back to me.
“Yes, but why did he send you in the first place?”
“Surely Your Majesty remembers that we were to discuss the potentials of alliance through a royal marriage? My father has been in correspondence with Your Majesties for many months now.”
“A royal marriage? With our son, I suppose you mean.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” I had noticed his absence from the table, but thought it rude to question them on it.
“Your father wants us to marry our son to his daughter?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” It was getting more and more difficult to keep my temper in check, good manners or no, “We feel it would be beneficial to both nations if-”
“I see a problem with that, child.” I actually bit my tongue until it bled at that little impertinence, but I forced another smile to my face. A cold smile with a locked jaw, but a smile, nonetheless.
“And why is that, Your Majesty?”
“Because our son is a prince, and will marry none but a true princess!”
“I apologize for my obtuseness, Your Majesty, but I fail to see the problem. My father is a king- any daughter of his is necessarily a princess.”
“And yet!”
“And yet, Your Majesty?”
“And yet you did not feel the pea!”
“The pea, Your Majesty?” Never had I been so confused by a political interaction. Were legumes an important part of their culture? Really I was going to have to have some scholars flogged when I got home.
“The pea!” Her voice was triumphant, and her husband regained his sheepish expression. “The pea that I had placed beneath your bedding! Everyone knows that true princesses are extraordinarily sensitive: as such, any true princess would have spent the night tossing and turning, unable to sleep, and in the morning she would be black and blue!”
I admit that for the first time in my well-trained life, I did not know how to respond. It was all I could do not to gape like a fish. I was appalled on multiple levels- not only that these people had such ridiculous ideas of what made a princess (or what was important to a political alliance), but that, holding those ideas to be truth, they would cheerfully subject a guest to a night of torture! The queen, apparently untroubled by my silence, continued in a gleeful tone, “Long have we been searching for a true princess to marry our son- he is currently combing the countryside for one. I must admit, there is a shocking dearth of them in the surrounding area. Not a one of them has met all the requirements.”
“The requirements?” I choked out.
“Oh you know,” she waved her hand dismissively. “Beauty, grace, that sort of thing. But most of all, sensitivity.”
“So, you don’t care about making a strong alliance for your kingdom?”
“What good is an alliance with any but the most royal blood? Now my dear, I can’t blame you for trying to better your station in life, but really it’s quite obvious that you’re not a true princess, and that there’s no hope of you marrying our son.”
“Marry your-“
“We are not without feeling, and obviously you have been through some ordeal, even if it wasn’t the one you told us,”
“Thrilling tale,” muttered the king. “Hounds and fish…” The queen glared at him again, and he hunched his shoulders up around his ears.
“As I was saying, we are not without feeling, so you may keep the gown, and we will even give you a little money to take home to your poor father. But really, my dear, you should know better than to claim to be a princess. You just don’t show the proper sensitivity!”
Another marvelous entry.
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