I Love You, My Cursed Prince

The Royal Palace was an amazingly large building of pale cream, white, and pale brown bricks. A hedge maze of a garden was behind it. A cobblestone floor, a round fountain, and large white statues were in the front. Princess Arya and Muriel were led through what was possibly the grandest entrance hall of any building in the nation, or at least Muriel thought so. The walls were white with gold details. The floor was mostly covered by a deep red rug. The impressive staircases had similar red stair runners.

Up the staircases, then more staircases, and the women were taken to two bedchambers across from each other. Princess Arya gave Muriel's room an quick inspection first, walking around and pointing her disagreeable eyes everywhere. Then she told Muriel to freshen up and dress up in one of her best formal court gowns, but she insisted that Muriel wasn't allowed to leave the bedroom without her permission.

Almost forgetting that she was apparently in a dangerous place, Muriel looked over her clothing with girlish excitement. She ended up choosing a dark orange gown with a tight robe that was pinned in place over the matching stomacher and underskirt, but it still exposed both of those pieces. That robe had layers of lace at the elbows and more lace on its borders; there was also a significant train. Muriel admired the gown's other details as a maid tended to her hair. White bow-knots and festoons, occasional brooches of pearl cl.u.s.ters, a light pattern of pale blue flower petals seeming to flutter down. She almost felt as if she was the princess.

Once her hair and makeup was finished, Muriel collected all her accessories and waited for her mistress to call on her. When she was allowed to leave, Muriel took a moment to applaud the princess' gown. She even smiled and clapped her hands. "Oh, Your Highness, you're so perfect!" She was in a pale lilac gown with a much longer train than Muriel's. There were also brooches of yellow faceted gemstones, black bow-knots, and of course the always popular lace.

But Princess Arya's face was tense. "Yes, Muriel. You're always ready to praise me. That's very well but we should hurry." She made a flourish with her folding fan. It felt mechanical. "Follow me."

Down some hallways, down many stairs, and they waited at a pair of tall doors for someone to announce their presence. Then they walked into a throne room full of people. Muriel followed the princess down a rug to the end of a set of stairs, which led up to the throne, where the king sat. His current wife was standing on his right. The Crown Prince was standing on his left. Muriel had kept her eyes down, however, and she only saw these people's skirts and shoes.

Both women curtsied. Princess Arya spoke to the king. "Greetings to His Majesty."

The masculine voice that reached Muriel's ears seemed tired and dull. "Good morning, Arya. Is Vidar well?"

"I'm afraid not," the princess answered.

"Has his condition worsened?"

"I wouldn't say so, but I'm not a physician. I can't give an accurate judgment."

"That's fine. We'll discuss his interests and concerns during tea after lunch." That meant that Muriel and her mistress would have to change clothes again, which nearly had Muriel pouting. "You may go," the king said.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

The women left to return to their rooms, where they later had lunch.