by Ashenden, V.
"Forgive me, Celeste," he said, breathing heavily. "I couldn't wait to kiss you again. It's been haunting me since the moment we parted."
Her eyes blazed; her hand shot up and slapped him across the face. She shoved him away and stormed down the stairs. Wellington and Betilly appeared a second later.
"Sir," Wellington said. "Wherever is the princess?"
Court sighed. "Betilly?"
"Yes, your highness?"
"I believe I overstepped myself. I think it may be best if I retire for the day. Would you be good enough to pass along my apologies to the princess?"
"Apologies? For what, sir?"
"For kissing her. I shouldn't have done it without her leave. I was...overcome."
"I see," Betilly said. "I will tell her."
"And tell her, if she'll have me, I would like to come again tomorrow."
Chapter Fourteen
The Ailing Queen
"She's so different, Wellington," Court said, his horse trotting on the road, "almost like another person."
"Sir, she was rather ill last night. If anything, she is acting more herself today. Truly, she is a princess of good upbringing. I am much relieved."
"Honestly, Wellington, if I didn't know it was her, if her hair wasn't identical, if it was even possible, I would have thought it was another woman under that mask last night."
"Sir, that's preposterous. The very idea is ludicrous."
"I know, but there was something about her, a spark that I didn't see today."
"Illness and medication can make one lose their inhibitions. The woman you saw last night is the Princess Celeste when she is relaxed, at peace. She let you see a vulnerable side of her, a weak side, an un-princess-like side, and now she is trying desperately to fix the opinion you have formed. You must give her time to find a proper balance between the two."
"You're right, of course, as always, Wellington."
"Do you still wish to propose to her, sir?"
"Yes," he said, "if she'll have me."
"Sir, have you forgotten her mother has already agreed to this? If you propose, she is to say yes, and if she refuses, we should leave."
"No, Wellington. I don't care if the queen gave away her hand. I wish to win her love."
"You've fallen for her, haven't you, sir?"
"I fell for her last night, and I'm still falling. I don't think I shall ever stop falling for her." He tilted his head, giving a sideways smile. "I do believe I am what I always feared to be, in love."
"Yes, sir, I do fear you are as well."
Court took a deep breath, straightening his back as he rode. "All right then, Wellington! I'm not giving up on her! My Celeste is in there, and I'll draw her out. She needs time with me, and I'll give it to her. We have our whole lives ahead of us."
"Well said, sir!"
* * *
"He kissed me, Mother; he kissed me!"
"What excellent news," the queen said. "Wonderful. He is smitten with you. How this news lifts my heavy heart. You have won him, my Celeste."
"No, Mother, I didn't win him!" she said, storming back and forth across her mother's room as her mother laid in bed, Vrine ready with the spit bucket for the next coughing fit. "That girl, that, that dirty peasant girl won his heart, not me!"
"I do hope you see the dangers of allowing maidens to serve in the castle now," her mother said smugly.
"Mother, please," Celeste said.
"What matter is it who won his heart so long as he loves you? And he does. It was in his eyes, it was in his voice, it was on his face. He could barely hold himself back from you."
"From her!"
"Celeste, let us come to the point," the queen said. "You are jealous."
"I am not!"
"Oh, my daughter, you are. And I am so pleased to see it in you. You did not even want to meet him a day ago, and now you are furious that he loves another. Tell me, do you care for him?"
Celeste ground her teeth. "Do not be ridiculous. I am not jealous, I am furious! And I certainly do not love him! He is simply a little less annoying than I thought he would be, but I still do not wish to share the throne."
The queen chuckled and then began coughing. Vrine lifted the bucket, letting her spit into it.
"And," Celeste said, "have you considered what will happen if that stable girl tells Prince Cross she was behind the mask?"
"The girl is harmless. Do not waste your thoughts on her. She will stay her silence."
"She is a threat."
"The only threat to you, princess, is you. Do not push the prince away. Let yourself feel for him. The rest will come easy."
"He's far too cavalier for my liking," Celeste said, folding her arms.
"I believe that was my complaint about you," the queen said.
"He treats me like a, like a friend, like a man."
"He treats you that way because he holds you close to his heart," the queen said, coughing again. "Princess, listen to me. I do not have so long left. I do wish, so wish that I could see you marry, that I could die knowing you were secure upon the throne."
"That he was secure upon the throne," she corrected.
"That you would share the throne with him, and look how he loves you!" the queen said earnestly. "You will lead as women always lead, through their men. When he says go to war, you will whisper in his ear, 'not yet,' and he will obey, because he loves. You fear losing power, but you will have more than you realize."
Celeste sighed. "And if he does not listen, I am powerless. Why cannot I decide what is best for my own kingdom?"
"The best for your kingdom is to give them a strong king and a strong heir. Don't you think these things are greater than a great ruler? And tell me, where could you find a man more devoted to you, who worships the ground you walk on, who steals a kiss because he cannot bare to wait for you to give it to him? Not even your father was so stricken with me, and I do swear, there was no request he would refuse me."
"Except to stay away from maidens?"
The queen's eyes blazed. "Do not dishonor me in my own bedchamber, Celeste! He had a moment of weakness, and fate struck him down for it. For the queen, despite her cold exterior, does so mourn her love, and she does so hope that her daughter might experience that same love. Do not deny the prince. All the solutions to your problems so lie with him."
Celeste closed her eyes for a moment. "Yes, Mother."
"Good. Now, daughter, the ring rests on your shoulders. He is waiting for your leave to propose again. Tell me you will invite him to take your hand."
Celeste took a deep breath. "I must have him respect me."
"Then tell him to respect you, and he will do so, for he will do anything."
Celeste took a few steps away, looking out the window. "You have done it, Mother. You have convinced me. I will marry on my eighteenth birthday."
"Oh, daughter," the queen said. "To hear you say this, I cannot express to you, you have made me so happy."
Celeste turned back. "I am glad I have made you happy, Mother. You have so little time left...before the end."
* * *
Court came into his room, sitting down on his bed. He rubbed his face, thinking. Celeste felt so distant. He felt like a fool for kissing her. How was he to win her back? How had he even lost her? What would sweep her off her feet, as she had swept him away? What did she want? What was she waiting for? The flowers had been nothing to her, less than nothing. How had he misunderstood her so? But then, what did she want? Money? No, she had plenty. Gifts? No gift could be greater than his devotion. Power? She had shown no interest in such a thing.
Court turned in his bed, but then he did a double take, staring at the wardrobe. He climbed up, finding his burned jacket hanging from the door. The back had been patched, though he could still see the oval of the burn. Of course, he could never wear it again, not in public. For a prince to wear a repaired garment would be laughable. But still, he knew Sienna must have found it, must have done this, and it touched him,
made him smile, lifted his heavy heart. He put it on. It smelled nice. She had even laundered it.
He left his room and descended the steps, finding his knights drinking and relaxing. They immediately stood, bowing.
"Men, please, as you were," he said. "Mr. Banyan?"
"Yes, your highness? A drink?"
"No. Where is your niece, the stable girl, Sienna?"
"To bed, I imagine."
"Where does she stay?"
"The stables."
"There's a room in the stables?" he said.
"She prefers to sleep there with the horses. That's her way."
"I see. She's there now?"
"I expect so. Has she done something wrong? I'll bring her in if you'd like. You can punish her if she has, with my apologies."
"No, of course not. I only wanted to thank her. She mended my jacket for me."
"Oh. Mending is just another service we provide, nearly free of charge, your highness."
Court sighed, shaking his head. "Pay him, Wellington."
Court left, traveling to the barn and passing through the door. He looked around but could see nothing other than the ten stalls. Where on earth did she stay? There was no room for someone to sleep in here. He must have misunderstood Banyan, but he stopped by to see Striker anyway.
"Good evening, Striker," he said, reaching into the stall and patting his muzzle. "How are...Sienna?"
Sienna was in the stall, right there on the floor, lying in the straw, covered with a blanket.
"Sienna?" he said. "Sienna, are you okay?" He jumped the gate, kneeling down over her, shaking her. "Sienna? Sienna!"
She started, sitting up, her blanket falling away, showing the dirty slip she slept in. "Oh! Court! What are you doing here?"
"Are you all right?"
"Yes, of course." She shyly grabbed her blanket and pulled it up past her chest, all the way to her chin. "What, um, what are you doing in here?"
"I, I was looking for you, actually. Forgive me, I didn't mean to intrude. Do you sleep here?"
"Yes."
"In the same stall as my horse?"
"Well, it's usually my stall, but we're all full, so I had to share."
"What if he steps on you?"
"I asked him not to."
"But where's your room?"
"Um, you're in my room."
"But, but a stall is no place for a person to sleep!"
"Uncle says if it's good enough for the horses, it's good enough for me."
"Oh, my word."
Sienna stood up, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders to cover herself. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to intrude on your horse. I can sleep somewhere else tonight."
"What? No, of course not. Please, sleep wherever you like. I only came to talk to you."
"Oh. Is something wrong? Do you need anything? Did her highness not like the flowers? Did I not clean your room well?"
"No, it's nothing like that. I came to thank you for mending my jacket."
"Oh! You came all the way out here to thank me?" She smiled so softly and so genuinely it seemed to cut right through him, tugging at his heart. "You are so sweet, your highness. I am so, so honored if it pleased you. Really, I'm glad to be of service."
"You have my thanks. Might I repay you with some coins?"
"No, no, of course not. Please, I couldn't think of taking anymore from you."
"Well, I feel I must do something."
"Your highness, you already tipped me. And you saved my life. You even saved my chastity. I don't need anything more in return."
"I see. I'll leave you alone then."
"Okay. Thank you again, sir."
"Of course," he said, opening the gate and passing through it, re-securing the rope. "Perhaps I'll see you in the morning."
She nodded. "Yes, sir. If you need anything, anything at all, I'm at your service."
He took a few steps away but then turned back. "Oh, and the princess loved the flowers."
Sienna smiled. "Did she? I'm so happy to hear that. That makes my day."
Court smiled back. "Goodnight, Sienna."
Chapter Fifteen
The Proposal
Court stretched as he climbed out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He opened his window. It was still dark, the sky ready to call the sun. Then he saw a figure moving across the grass, someone with short hair and a small frame, entering the henhouse along the barn.
"Here, chicky, chicky, chickies," the faint voice said. The hens squawked. "Look at how many eggs today, Henny! You're so big. Don't get too big or uncle will gobble you up. And, Henrietta, you fox. You've been pecking again, haven't you? That won't do."
Court chuckled, sitting on the window sill, watching Sienna in the distance.
"Henona, you come back here! You've got an egg in there, and I'll chase you until I get it out if I have to! Oh, quiet down, Henlin, you noisy gossip; you'll wake someone."
With all her eggs collected, Sienna put the basket under her arm and skipped across the grass, humming, disappearing around the side of the tavern. Court climbed up, dressing in his pants and shirt and slipping into his mended jacket. In the hall, he found Finn on duty.
"Sir, you're awake," Finn said.
"Morning, Finn," Court said. "Yes, a bit early. Too many dreams."
"Shall I come with you?"
"No. Why don't you turn in?"
"And leave you unguarded?"
"If another dragon attacks, I'll wake you."
"Yes, sir."
Court descended the stairs, entering the tavern. It was completely empty. Everyone was asleep at this early hour, almost everyone. He could hear humming. He moved around the bar, pushing open the door to the kitchen. Sienna was leaning over the counter, scrubbing it with a brush, the milk and eggs beside her.
As she bent over, his eyes followed her bare legs up her body. She was still wearing the same dirty, black skirt, with her white blouse tucked into it, along with a black vest over her chest. However, he noticed a large section of her vest had been cut away between her shoulder blades, replaced with a brown patch, clearly taken from some other piece of clothing. It made him furrow his brow.
"Good morning."
"Court!" she said, spinning around, her arm catching the basket of eggs, knocking them to the floor, the shells cracking on impact. "Oh, no!" She put her hands on her head, turning to him, bowing at the waist. "I'm so sorry, your highness." Then she looked down at the eggs. "Oh, no, no." She fell to her knees.
"I'm sorry," Court said, coming around the counter. "It's my fault. I didn't mean to startle you. I'm sure you're not used to people intruding on you so early."
"The eggs. He's going to be so angry."
And then she was crying, just staring down at the dozen cracked eggs, yolk running over the floorboards. Court grabbed a towel and knelt down beside her.
"It's all right. Here, look, we'll clean them up. Your uncle won't even know." He began to wipe them up but it didn't seem to stop her crying.
"I don't have enough eggs," she whimpered. "I only had twelve. He's going to be so angry. There's not going to be any eggs for breakfast. He's going to hit me."
"I see," Court said, and then he lifted her head, his fingers on her chin, her cheeks turning to blush. He took his hand away. "Don't worry, Sienna. We'll tell your uncle a little fib. We'll say the prince came down to the kitchen and asked for a dozen eggs just for himself, the greedy pig, and you gave them to him, because, well, he's the prince and you don't go around refusing princes."
"I, I can't lie to my uncle."
"Then it's not a lie," he said. "Sienna, I need a dozen eggs. May I have these?"
"But they're broken."
"That's how I like them. May I have them?"
She sniffled, her tears disappearing as a smile replaced them. "Yes, your highness."
"Thank you," he said, scooping them up into the trash. He stood and then held out his hand to her. "Come on, off the floor."
She took hi
s hand, climbing up. She was looking into his eyes, but then she seemed to realize she was staring and looked away, wiping her face.
"Is there anything else I can get for you, your highness?"
"No, I think that'll do. Well, actually, I don't know what I want."
"Sorry, your highness?"
"Let me ask you something," he said, leaning against the counter. "You're a woman, aren't you?"
"Thank you for noticing, your highness," Sienna said softly.
He chuckled. "Sorry. My meaning is, if you were a princess, what sort of gift would please you?"
"Flowers, your highness."
"I've already given Princess Celeste flowers. I'd like to bring her something even better today, not that the flowers weren't perfect."
"Hmm," she said, biting her lower lip, her eyes running up. "A dress."
"Pardon? A what? A dress?"
Sienna nodded. "The princess is so beautiful, and I think if you gave her a beautiful dress, she would put it on and dance around in it, even if she doesn't know how to dance, and she'd wear it whenever she wasn't working or anything like that, just to feel pretty."
He smiled. "Yes, women do like to feel pretty, don't they?"
"Yes, your highness."
"Not you though."
"What?"
"I mean, you don't seem to care."
She swallowed. Then she picked up her brush and began scrubbing the counter again. "I don't have time to look pretty."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I only meant you're rather...relaxed."
"Yes, your highness."