The Pauper Prince - Part 20

The Pauper Prince
Chapter 20

  She had been awkward. He had been clumsy. More than once they had fallen into spasms of nervous laughter. She had barely stopped in time from wetting herself, and he had needed to roll away to take care of a coughing fit. But two hours later they were asleep in each others' arms; her lips were turned up in a small, but contented, smile.
  A noise from outside woke the Prince. He opened his eyes, blinked, and scanned the room a bit. His new wife rested her right arm across his chest. He was on his back; she was on her side, her face almost touching his shoulder. She warmed it a little with every breath. He listened for a bit. The sounds outside were nothing unusual for the castle, save for some added conversation and other bustling, thanks to the wedding reception. Their reception. They would have to make an appearance... eventually.
  He placed his hand on hers gently so as not to wake her. She had bragged long ago about being a light sleeper, but that had changed once she had been introduced to comfortable beds. As he took the hand, stroked it, and kissed it, her face showed no sign of being roused. He stared at her emerald betrothal ring, remembering that it had quickly gone from something she was afraid to lose or break, to indispensable. That and her new wedding ring were the only items she was wearing. He could not claim to be wearing anything at all.
  After a last look at her face, he moved out of bed in slow-motion and carefully let her arm come to rest on his now-empty spot on the bed. His valet had set aside his clothing for the reception. His wedding outfit was fine for show but too uncomfortable for much else.
  "Hello," he heard, after he'd managed to put on all but his shirt and surcoat. Naturally it was Mara, propped up in bed and giving him a languid smile. He smiled back and opened his mouth to reply, then took the time to... take in the sight of her first. Like himself, she needed time to blink, scan the room, and get out of bed in slow-motion. She sat on the edge of the bed and glanced his way from time to time.
  "Hello to you, too," he said, pulling on his shirt and starting to button it. "Your Highness."
  That got him a quizzical look. Then a few seconds later, comprehension, a light laugh, and "Ah. Hm." Then she stared at him some more.
  "You're almost dressed," she said. "Why didn't you wake me?"
  He shrugged. "I couldn't bear to disturb you," he said. "You looked more peaceful and contented than I'd ever seen. Which is flattering, considering..."
  She waited for more, and when there was none: "Considering what?"
  "Ah... Well..." he said, "Songs and poems won't be written about my... performance. Unless they're a comedy, I suppose."
  She wrinkled her brow, then stood up and went to her own wardrobe. "I'm going to match your colors," she said, and peered over to study his clothing.
  "Oh, that's a good idea," he said flatly, nodding, then was quiet.
  She picked at a few items, then left the wardrobe and went to him, still clothed in naught but her jewels. She held his face in her hands, then kissed him once gently and paused to gauge his reaction. For some reason he seemed unwilling to meet her gaze. Undaunted, she kissed him twice more.
  "Darling," she called him for the first time, "I am satisfied. And I look forward to the next time and the next, for I know we want nothing more than each other's satisfaction. We'll only get better."
  He met her gaze now, then offered a bittersweet smile. "Next time I promise not to cough in your face."
  She laughed and smiled - so warm, so full of love - and they touched foreheads. She closed her eyes.
  "I'm proud of you," she whispered.

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  "Presenting His Royal Highness Prince Kelvin and his radiant bride, Her Royal Highness Princess Mara!" Solomon truly enjoyed applying his mighty voice to its best advantage. Though wishing he had merely whispered their arrival so they could sneak inside, Mara gave him a pleasant smile after his introduction before following her new husband into the fray.
  Their colors did match. Mara's elaborate braids had been brushed out by Kelvin himself, for neither had the ability to reweave them like Heather could. Mara had been taught a few tricks, though, and managed to arrange her hair at least presentably. Kelvin's little joke about newlyweds applied to themselves, then: they had arrived at the reception less well-dressed and groomed than at their wedding.

  The King and Queen had learned two things in between the engagement banquet and the wedding itself. One is that their future daughter-in-law had made up her own mind about whom she would associate with. The second is that their son, the Prince, was true to his word about standing behind her at all times. Given his erstwhile time as a commoner, he had gained a much greater appreciation for their work, and yet remained merely polite and receptive to the help rather than actively befriending them. Mara, though, firmly believed that it was possible to cultivate friendships with gentry and non-gentry alike, and would not tolerate being told otherwise. Their appeals to him to "speak sense" into her were met with an immovable resolve to support her.
  This led to, after a prolonged discussion amongst all parties, a compromise for the wedding and reception. All classes were welcome at the wedding, though the ordinary folk had been relegated to the last rows in the cathedral. No one would be required to stand, either. Mara had been too overwhelmed by the ceremony to remember who had been sitting where, but for the reception, the compromise was that, for the sake of the delicate natures of the nobility, they could still celebrate in separate rooms as their servants and other staff, but the Royal Couple would absolutely make it a point of mingling with everyone at some point during the soiree. The servants and staff were still guests, as far as she, and so the Prince as well, were concerned. The reception was expected to go one for two to three days to allow for latecomers and those with extraordinary endurance.

  The scene was similar to the engagement banquet, with a few notable exceptions: this time there was other royalty besides from Gildern. The engagement banquet had been more or less optional for other royal families, though a royal wedding and its reception were something else entirely. Mara was introduced to three other sets of Kings and Queens, plus a Prince and Princess or two. She prided herself on quietly working out the reason that no Princess had been presented to Kelvin; Princes outweighed the Princesses, and all but one that she met were already married. Her royal etiquette classes had taught her to curtsey to the Kings and Queens but to greet her "peers" eye-to-eye.
  What she did find unsettling, though, was that her (former) peers, friends, and acquaintances were now greeting her with bows, dips, and "Your Highnesses." As always, she was especially unnerved by women humbling themselves before her. But she kept silent about it in public and gave a grateful smile to each greeter. Even Lucinda dipped before her, and later, all three of Kelvin's former suitors, albeit in their own time and as part of their families. Mara made it a point of greeting them all as pleasantly as possible and saying nothing of the "no-show" she had gotten at her tea party.
  She was also mildly taken aback by the extraordinary enthusiasm most of the female guests had for examining her wedding ring. Both rings, for those who had never seen either. Many of the same women then started pointing out and explaining their own jewels to Mara, who nodded politely at their stories and forced a few smiles. Then someone else - sometimes more than one person - would start talking to her at the same time. As long as they didn't expect her to comprehend all of the conversations and answer with any intelligence, she could manage.
  Finally she felt Kelvin hooking her arm, smiling and waving to the crowd, and leading her to a welcome sight: their banquet table. After the King once again led the toast to the happy couple, they piled their plates high and dug in, for neither had had the opportunity to eat or drink all day. Most of the guests had already eaten, as urged by the King and Queen. Everyone had known the Royal Couple was going to be occupied for a while; no need for everyone else to starve.
  Princess... Anne, she believed, sat beside her while she ate and drank, and proceeded to talk about anything and everything as though they had been best friends their whole life. Mara "mm-hm"ed and nodded occasionally in between bites. Her husband, Prince... Rupert?, chatted amiably with Kelvin while he was eating and drinking, but with much fewer words. From what Mara overheard, she deduced that they had at least been good acquaintances their whole lives.
  Dessert was brought to them both - a tantalizing sampling of small cakes, custards, honeyed fruits and other items. Mara was trying to decide which one to eat first, when Prince Rupert decided that now was the time to offer her more well-wishes and engage her in conversation.
  "I highly recommend the tart," he said, pointing to one on the platter. She nodded and added it to her plate.
  "Mm, thank you for the suggestion, Your Highness," she said, and took a bite. He looked amusedly at her, then at Kelvin, and shrugged. She had forgotten that "Highnesses" did not need to refer to each other as such, but she was new to this game, after all.
  "Enjoying yourself, my dear?" he asked his wife. Anne locked arms with her, prompting a bit of a surprised look from Mara, but she had learned a lot by now about restraint.
  "Oh, yes," said Princess Anne, "Mara and I are firm friends now, aren't we?"
  She opened her mouth to reply, when the musicians began a stirring introduction to a waltz. Anne cooed and released Mara to come around the table and take Rupert's hand. Both looked back at the new Royal Couple expectantly. Everyone in the room was looking, in fact. Mara was busy buttering a biscuit and did not notice. She was then interrupted by Kelvin clearing his throat. She looked to him; he nodded towards the center of the room, and she finally noticed all eyes upon them. She groaned quietly, made a pouty face, then let Kelvin take her hand and lead her once again to the dance floor. Solomon cleared his throat.
  "My Lords and Ladies!" he bellowed. "Make way for Their Highnesses Prince Kelvin and Princess Mara, and allow them to lead us in dance!" She liked it much better when they had been quiet about it. They locked gazes again, and were still able to lose themselves in each other's eyes, but she was actually aware of her surroundings this time. This was not due to a diminishing of their attraction to one another, but a strengthening of perception.
  For the first song they were given the floor to themselves. In preparation for this event they had been practicing together for months, and as onlookers of centuries later might have described, they "owned" the floor.  Their twirls, their swirls, their lifts and their dips were graceful and flawless. They overheard a few oohs and ahhs from the onlookers. He no longer allowed her to claim incompetence at dance, though she did still try to claim inexperience. It was not dancing with him or in general that bothered her, but performing before others. If the guests would only leave the room, she could go on all night and day.
  The applause at the song's end was prolonged and enthusiastic, though the musicians paused only briefly before beginning the next number. The floor filled immediately with other couples. Mara quietly indicated her desire to leave it to them, but Kelvin held his place and beckoned her closer. He murmured that they needed to stay and keep leading the couples in a group dance. Mara lost her smile; she did not care for dancing with men other than Kelvin and his father, but found the fortitude to continue. The various couples bowed to their initial partners, and began. She kept the same neutral smile on her face as partner after partner changed every few measures or so, and only brightened when Kelvin or his father took her hands, until something happened. Mentally, it was as if she were suddenly back at the Eleanor Elaine, serving customers, cleaning rooms, chopping food, swabbing floors, putting up chairs... and now, dancing with royalty. Not even a year had passed since her time of sleeping on cots and worrying about blowing herself up from stray flour in a candle's flame, and she was dancing with the ruling class, accepted as one of their own, at her own wedding to a Prince. It was as if everything had happened to her in the span of a day.
  She began to laugh. As much to herself as possible at first, but keeping her mouth closed led to snickering, and her partners that noticed it wondered if they'd done something ridiculous. "It isn't you!" she'd try to explain through giggles as they went to the next partner, but she could not tell if it did any good.
  The next time she joined hands with Kelvin, tears were in her eyes. The music had been loud enough to cover most of her noise, but he had heard somebody laughing, and was mildly dismayed that it turned out to be her. She clamped her mouth shut and gave him her best puppy-dog eyes before losing it again. Kelvin quickly pulled her from the dance, apologizing to their next would-be partners along the way. The other dancers were mostly undaunted and quickly reformed their lines.
  "I'm so sorry," she said as he led her away from the floor and towards the main entrance. "What are you doing? Am I being thrown out?"
  "Hardly," he said, acknowledging Solomon's substitute at the door as they passed. They ducked into an alcove. She took several slow, deep breaths, then sighed.
  "Ahhh," she said. "I am so sorry. Please tell me I haven't embarrassed you."
  "A little," he said. "Had a bit of wine, darling?"
  She thought before answering. "No, not enough to give me such fits. I was just... Suddenly I thought of where I used to be, and where I am now, and... couldn't stop."
  Kelvin only stared in response.
  "I-I'm being silly," she said, and clasped her hands together. "All right! I'm done with that. No more embarrassments. We return to the dance."
  "I'd rather return to the bedroom," he said, and pulled her into a kiss. She happily accepted it, and let him push her against the wall of the alcove, not caring how loud or sloppy they sounded. Solomon, returning to his post after a brief respite, overheard enough to arouse his suspicions. He snuck over to investigate, realized quickly what was happening, and stood just outside of the alcove with his back to them, mostly blocking the view from the hallway. He nodded to a passerby, who was distracted by the noise. Solomon smacked his lips and sniffled loudly as a way of "explanation."
  Kelvin noticed all this and poked his head out. Solomon remained at his post, a look of great dignity on his face. Kelvin patted his shoulder. "You're a good man," he said.
  "Thank you, Your Highness," was the crisp reply.
  The Prince and Princess emerged from the shadows arm in arm. There was some awkwardness as they began moving in opposite directions: she back to the Great Hall and he away from it, towards their bedroom.
  "Dear...?" he said.
  "Darling," she said. "...I confess to feeling a bit guilty. We promised to visit everyone here, and we haven't even done that yet. I mean our other guests, in the other room. May we stop there first and mingle?"
  She sensed his frustration as he alternated between looking down the hall and back to the party. He rubbed the back of his neck. She gave him her best plaintive look.
  "But now?" he said.
  "I just want to be fair," she said, laying her hand flat against his chest. "We shouldn't be long."
  He sighed. "Very well. I'll join you shortly, though. You can pave the way for my arrival."
  "Oh, indeed, sir," she said with a bow. "I shall be your herald."
  "Make it a big announcement, then," he said, playing along. "Give them my full lineage and all of my titles. Oh, and remind them how handsome I am."
 She pondered this. "I'll remind them about the handsomeness, but if I give all your names and titles, no one will get any sleep tonight."
  "That will cost you."
  "I'll pay it!"
  Giggling, she parted from him to return to the Great Hall. He managed to give her bottom a quick swat before she was out of reach. She grunted, but otherwise did not react or stop. Once back inside, she looked for a path to the door in the far corner that led to the next room. A path that had the fewest guests, but it did not matter. As she moved, more well-wishers came to her and babbled congratulations and so forth. She acknowledged them all politely as she made her way across. It was Countess Lucinda who managed to intercept her and lock arms.
  "Oh!" she said. "My goodness, dear, I thought it would be ages before we could talk!" She started pulling Mara from her path to the door, and brought her to one of the few corners of the room not crowded with guests. She let go and leaned in close and spoke in low tones. "At last you have your first story to tell!" she said, and winked. Mara was merely puzzled. "Between the ceremony and when you arrived here?" she prompted. "You know," she said. "Your first act as husband and wife." Mara shrugged. "Oh, please, you cannot pretend to not know what I mean."
  Mara finally knew what she meant. "Now??" she said. "Lu-- Oh, come now, you really can't wait? At least let us be at tea or something first, alone. Besides, it was not-- No, never mind. You know that I love you dearly, but this isn't the time or place."
  The Countess bit her lip. "You're right," she said. "We'll find a room away from here to talk."
  "But you see," said Mara, "You did catch me leaving for another room. And you're welcome to join me, but it's to visit our other guests."
  Lucinda looked about the room. "Which other guests?"
  "The ones in the next room," said Mara. "You know, the... servants. Staff. Attendants. We promised to visit them."
  "Oh," said Lucinda, nodding vaguely. "Well... That's kind of you. But I shouldn't interfere. It's your affair and they're your... guests. But please do me a favor, if you would, and make sure that Constance and Lorraine aren't doing anything... unseemly?"
  It took Mara a moment to remember that she was referring to her own attendants. She nodded. "Of course, dear," she lied, and disappeared down the hall. Whatever the help cared to do in their own segregated party was their business, as long as no harm was done to themselves or the castle.

  By the time Lucinda arrived at the room to collect her handmaidens for assistance with "the little noblewoman's room," both the Prince and Princess were there, "visiting" the lower classes and were somehow not the centers of attention they should have been. Servants were lounging about, picking at the food and drink of their buffet table like it was meant to be eaten with the fingers, talking loudly, laughing loudly, singing off-key loudly, and dancing wildly. She couldn't help staring at this strange Royal Couple, who managed to be islands of grace and reserve in this sea of coarseness. Two giggling women who clearly had had too much to drink approached her, and she recognized them in time as Constance and Lorraine. They stifled their laughter enough to dip clumsily before their lady.
  "Having fun, girls?" she said icily.
  "Mm, yesh, thank you, y'r Ladyshhip," slurred Constance.
  Lorraine giggled some more. "Shhe can' e'en talk!"
  The Countess made a noise of disgust and began pulling them both from the room, allowing herself another look back at her friend, who was sharing a loud laugh with her redheaded servant. The Prince, for his part, showed more dignity and merely smiled quietly. It seemed odd to her that, not only had the Princess not outgrown her strange need to befriend simply everyone, but she had pulled her husband along, as well, and appeared to actually enjoy their company more than with her own kind.
  She was more distracted than she'd thought. Lorraine's touch on her arm startled her, but she quickly gathered her composure and led them from the room.

The Pauper Prince - Part 19

The Pauper Prince
Chapter 19

  The wedding was like a dream. Not a dream as in "Dream Wedding" or "Dream Come True," but the sort of dream that has its own reality for itself but that makes no sense in the outside world. The sort where things seem clear and detailed at the time, but trying to remember anything later is a wasted effort. If asked to describe the day to an outsider, Mara might have done so this way:

  I was wrapped in a cocoon of white silk and lace and... some other materials that were tight and loose at the same time, but still all white. I was told it was so I looked "pure." I didn't mind because I was "pure" the way they wanted me to be. From the waist up I could barely move, but at the bottom there was extra material just sitting out, for no other reason but to make me look like a waterfall and its river at the bottom. There was a looking glass nearby, and I saw my reflection and looked just like that - a white waterfall and its river. A waterfall wearing a tiara and a veil. There were women all around me in the room, all the time. I knew a few, but most were faceless to me. Some friends were there. Mother Queen was there. She was saying things to me that I don't remember now, but I kept nodding to whatever she said.
  I was told to leave the room and start walking. Outside the room there was loud music, and a choir singing from somewhere. I don't remember if children or adults were singing. Both? It was hard to walk in the cocoon, which now that I think of it, must have been a dress. Oh, of course, not a river, but a train! That's what they call that part of a dress. It was heavy and dragging, but then lightened up suddenly. It was later that I learned that my friend Heather and... another handmaiden... Siobhan? had been carrying it. Suddenly Mother Queen and the other women were gone.
  The music got louder, and I was at the double doors of the church... or perhaps it was a cathedral, and the doors opened. I looked straight ahead, and he - Kelvin, I mean - was far ahead of me at the other end of the long aisle. I stepped out, and then a thousand-thousand pairs of eyes were staring at me! They had all turned as one and were looking straight at me. The aisle became a mile long. He was a speck on the horizon. A little dot. And suddenly I had no strength to move. I couldn't breathe. I needed him to come to me, not the other way around. But he wasn't allowed to. I remember there were all sorts of rules about this.
  It was hard to see, but I think he was... I think he held out his hand, like I was supposed to take it. I felt myself reaching out, too, but stopped, because all those eyes were upon me, and I was too far away. So I closed my eyes, tried to breathe again, and then opened them, and focused on his hand. Just get close enough, that's what I was thinking. I started walking, slowly, because I could move no faster, and dared not look at those thousand-thousand pairs of eyes. I'd have been lost if I had looked; I knew that.
  With every step, he never seemed to get any closer, but I couldn't move faster, either. Then suddenly... I was there, looking at women all dressed alike, to my left. Mother Queen had chosen them, not me, but I knew half of them, at least. And they were called "maids," even though the ones I knew were already married. I think I was still walking while I was watching them, and looked over, and Kelvin was there. His hand was there. Oh, my goodness, he was... I had never seen him more handsome, more radiant. Can a man be described that way? Well, even if not, he was. I stopped walking, and Heather and Siobhan stopped, too, and started spreading the train around to make it bigger.
  I took his hand, and he smiled in that way that's so calming to me. I don't remember if I smiled back. I think I may have looked like a deer just after it sees a hunter and just before it runs. But I couldn't run, you know. I had to stay and listen to the loud music and the priest... minister... clergyman... bishop... archbishop? I don't remember what he was, but he did most of the talking. And I don't remember very much of what he said, except there was a moment when he asked a question that utterly terrified me: if anyone objected to our being there? I stopped breathing; maybe my heart stopped, too, and I thought he waited far too long for a reply before talking again. But nobody said anything, so I started breathing again.
  Then he said Kelvin's name, and started asking him a lot of questions, mostly about things Kelvin had already said to me, and then Kelvin said, "I will." Then the ... clergyman... said my name, and I froze, and could do nothing but listen to his questions, which were different than Kelvin's, but also the same, I think. Then he stopped and stared at me, so I said, "I will!" without thinking. I hope I didn't say that "I will" do something I don't want to do?
  And I thought we were done, but then he started feeding Kelvin some phrases to repeat, which Kelvin said to me, but I just remember staring at his face while his lips moved. Then it was my turn to repeat after the whatever-he-was, and if he had ever given me more than five words to say, I'd have forgotten the whole phrase. My lips moved, but if anyone was able to hear me, I don't know.
  Then somebody gave Elisabeta's ring to Kelvin. The priest - I'll just use that from now on - talked on and on about it as if it were worthy of an epic poem, and then finally Kelvin put it on me. I remember that part because I had on only white, and I was so pale that my skin matched the dress, so I remember a big spot of red on my hand. I still had my betrothal ring, but on my right hand now. So a spot of green and white and red for that.
  But this dream -- I mean, wedding?-- it just wouldn't end! The priest had us drink from a chalice, but sang praises to that, too, and then we knelt while he said prayers, and knelt for other reasons but I don't remember what they were, and the loud music and singing started sometimes. Not that the music and the singing weren't beautiful, but no one had told me just how long it would take or what to do or anything, other than "walk that way" and "repeat after me." I could swear that none of it was real, but it had to be all real. Hadn't it? I kept losing my thoughts, unable to think beyond what it took to remain standing. Then I heard "...kiss the bride," and looked to Kelvin, who was lifting my veil and leaning towards me. I opened my mouth to say "Wait!" but he kissed me before I could speak. Then the priest turned us around and said we were "Prince and Princess, man and wife," and those thousand-thousand pair of eyes were back! I realized that they had all watched as we kissed!, and I started to become weak and lightheaded. Even worse when the faceless ones out there began clapping and whistling and yelling.
  Kelvin took my hand and pulled, but gently. I didn't mean to resist, but that happened until I could make my legs move again. I could only keep up with him because he was pulling, too. Heather and Siobhan went behind me again to pick up the train and lighten my steps. I think Kelvin wanted to run, but we walked, as quickly as I could, down the mile-long aisle and then outside. It was so bright out that I could barely see. Kelvin lead me to a carriage waiting right at the front steps of the cathedral. I think it was a royal carriage. It was fancy enough for that. He helped me inside from behind, then climbed in after me. The carriage started moving. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the seat, and that's when I woke up.

  Mara kept her eyes closed and listened to the creaking and rustling and clip-clop of the carriage and its horses. They helped to calm her and gave her time to relearn how to breathe normally. Somebody took her hand. Of course "somebody" was Kelvin, because there was no one else with her in the carriage. She opened her eyes to his beaming face.
  "Hello," he said. She gave him a gentle smile. He pointed to himself and then her. "Man... and wife," he said, and chuckled.
  "Mmmm," she said, sitting up straighter in the seat. She was watching him but fidgeting with her new ring. "Man and wife. Why not say 'husband and wife?' Or 'man and woman?'"
  "I don't care," he said, and lunged at her. It startled her, but she, too, was lost soon enough in the throes of passion. Gone was her mortification at their first married kiss being witnessed by a thousand-thousand pairs of eyes. Closer to two hundred-fifty pairs, though her estimate was close enough. The ride from the cathedral to the castle grounds would take twenty minutes. They were prepared to grope and moan and kiss all the way, and would have, when Kelvin suddenly groaned and buried his face against her chest.
  "Ahhh, this is torture," he said to her bosom, his voice muffled.
  "What?" she said, looking down. "Torture? Are you saying you don't like them?"
  "What?" he said, bringing his face right up to hers. "No! No, these are perfect!" He cupped his hands just under her breasts, yet not daring to touch them. "Except that they're covered right now. That is the torture!" He thumped on the carriage's ceiling. "Faster!" The coachman heard and complied, coaxing the horses into a trot, but nothing like a gallop. He almost thumped again, then realized he must be satisfied with that. Mara laughed and placed her hand on his cheek.
  "What about the reception?" she said. "We're supposed to greet everyone and mingle and dance and all that. Or could we dispense with the dancing this time?"
  "We don't have to be there straight away," he said. "There'll be so much hubbub that no one will even notice our absence for hours. And yes, we do have to dance. I like dancing with you. What's wrong with it?"
  "I-- just-- don't think I'm good at it," she said. "And how could people not notice our absence? At our own wedding?"
  "I've been to my share of them," he said, "And it depended on the couple, but some took-- a long time to make their appearance. And looking not as well-dressed or groomed as they had for the wedding."
  She was working out the significance of that, when he leaned in for more kissing. She held up a hand. "Wait," she said. "Kelvin, you know that I'm... That I've never..."
  "Neither have I," he said quietly, and they kissed up to the moment when the carriage stopped and the coachman opened the door.

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  They hurried as quickly as they could to the bedroom, acknowledging well-wishers in the castle along the way. At the door, he pushed it open, but stopped her from entering, and held out his arms. He beckoned to her, so she moved in for an embrace. He shook his head and pushed her back gently.
  "I-I don't..." she said. "What do you want me to do?"
  "I'm carrying you in," he said, beckoning again.
  "What? Why? This dress isn't that big. I can still fit through a door."
  "No, it's tradition," he said. "I carry you inside. That is, the man carries his new bride into their bedroom."
  "...Carry me? All the time now?"
  "No, I-!" he said, sighing. "Please. Just let me carry you this once. It's... bad luck or something. I don't know. But why tempt fate, right?"
  "But you're the one who told me that there are no such things as curses, so-"
  "Mara. Please."
  "All right, all right," she said, and struggled to assist him in lifting her and the complicated dress off the ground. Being carried was not the most comfortable position for her, but she abided this tradition of his, which lasted only until they'd cleared the threshold. Then he gently set her down, kissed her, then broke away to all but slam the door shut and bolt it. Then he started untying and unbuttoning and removing his clothing as quickly as possible.
  "And you," he said, glancing her way. She hesitated, then removed the pins keeping her veil and tiara in place and set them aside on a nightstand. She began the business of figuring out how to remove her dress without damaging it.
  "Wait," he said, holding up a hand. She froze in place and stared. "I want to do it," he said. "Will you let me do it?"
  "Uh... certainly," she said. He stopped tearing off his own clothing, and embraced her. He distracted her with deep kisses while feeling for anything on her back meant to release the gown. Failing that, he parted and  moved behind her to study the intricacies of the loops and knots keeping the dress in place. He started undoing them, starting from her neck. As each one was released, more of the dress could be opened.
  "Kelvin, wait," she said. He shook his head, though she could not see it.
  "No more waiting," he said.
  She pinched her shoulder blades together in an effort to keep the dress closed. "Please wait a moment," she said. "You remember... remember being told that I have... some scarring, yes?"
  "I do," he said, finally staying his hand.
  "You told me," she said, "That it wouldn't change your mind about me. But I just wanted you to... not be surprised, in case you'd forgotten."
  He was still for a few moments, then rested his chin on her shoulder from behind, his mouth just under her ear. "I hadn't," he whispered, and renewed her undressing with feverish resolve. He opened her dress more and more as he made progress, revealing more of the scarring he'd been told about. When he had opened the dress all the way down to her waist, he paused to take it all in. There was more than he had expected, but not what he had imagined, either. With a quick move, he flipped the whole top of the dress down, revealing the rest of her back and arms all at once. Her arms were briefly pinned until she pulled them the rest of the way out of the sleeves. She tried to turn around, but he stayed her with a gentle touch.
  "Is it...?" she said. "Do they repulse you?" She closed her eyes and prepared for the worst.
  "No," he said quietly, now daring to touch one. She shivered. "Does that hurt?"
  She scoffed. "It's a scar," she said. "They don't hurt. I just didn't expect you to touch any of them."
  He put his hand flat on her back and began caressing it, feeling all around, then took both hands and rubbed all along her arms, feeling every bump, blemish, and healed wound as he went. He stepped forward and rested his chin on her shoulder again, breathing deeply and bringing their arms together as he held her from behind. She shivered and closed her eyes, also breathing deeply, until their breaths were in sync.
  "They're a part of you," he said, kissing her neck. "And since you are beautiful, so are they."
  She spun around and grabbed his face, her eyes wild. "Take me," she whispered.
  The speed of her move, the intensity in her face, her everything took him by surprise. That and the first sight of her uncovered breasts. To his relief they were unblemished and just as perfect as he had imagined them to be. Apparently even her barbaric father had taken care to leave them be. He was mesmerized.
  "Take me!" she cried, clapping his cheeks to jar him back to reality. It quickly became a race between the two of them who could pull off more clothing more quickly. While fighting with the bottom part of her dress, they heard a tear. They stopped at the same time, traded concerned looks, then remembered - royal seamstresses! - and finished wriggling her out of it. Off came the shoes and that garter belt thing on her leg, whatever it was for, and Mara had "won" the game of undressing. She almost dove onto the bed, then felt the borrowed diamonds around her neck. To her relief, nothing seemed damaged. While Kelvin finished off the last of his clothing, she ran to the dressing table and carefully removed the necklace, laying it just as carefully on the table and checking for missing jewels.
  "Come on!" he said.
  Satisfied with its condition, she whirled around, smiling, and was greeted by the sight of her new man, fully unclothed. He beckoned to her and gestured to the bed. She froze, unable to take her gaze from... all that he had to show her. He continued beckoning.
  "Come on," he said again.
  She seemed to realize her own full nudity for the first time. "This is..." she whispered, closing herself up almost, but not quite, as tightly as she had when being examined by Sir William. "This is... There's no going back. Is there?"
  Kelvin did not reply, but stopped beckoning and went to her. She relaxed some but was still trying to cover up delicate parts. He tried to unravel her arms, but she resisted. "I don't know what to do," she whispered. "What if it hurts? What if I hurt you?"
  "I don't know what to do, either," he said, leading her step by step to the bed. "Well, I know what to do, but have no experience. Let's work it out together. Shall we?" He gestured grandly to the bed and bowed, which brought a smile to her. She loosened her grip on herself and let him kiss around her neck; that was enough to relax her again. Together they fell onto the bed, laughing and smiling. She laid on her back while he carefully climbed over her to take the customary, top position. Given their inexperience, he opted to start with what he knew so far. He centered himself and took a moment to watch her eyes, seeing if there was still any fear or uncertainty. There was none now. She smiled and stroked his cheek.
  "Take me," she whispered.

The Pauper Prince - Part 18

The Pauper Prince
Chapter 18

  She found Heather in the separate room where the various guests' servants were being fed. And entertained, it turns out, since some of them were musically inclined, and had formed a small band that played at a moderate volume. Loud enough to listen and dance to, but quiet enough for others to have conversations. Heather's back was to her. She seemed to be deep in conversation, but was alerted to Mara's approach by the reactions of others near her. Namely, they were standing straighter and bowing and curtseying and offering "m'ladies" to the approaching noblewoman.
  Mara held up her hands as she approached. "Oh, please, please, there's no need," she said to all. Heather finally turned around, and curtsied to her because there were witnesses. Mara apologized for the intrusion and whispered her need for assistance in being extricated from the dress in order to visit the little noblewoman's room. Heather snapped into action and led her lady away.

  Kelvin was laughing at a friend's spot-on impersonation of a notoriously drunk nobleman, when his mother the Queen approached. He was all smiles as he greeted her and praised his friend's comedic talents, but she was having none of it.
  "Have you seen your bride-to-be of late?" she said crisply. Kelvin quieted his chuckling and looked about the room.
  "Uhhhh," he said. "Hm. Well, she did need to leave to -- take care of urgent business. Perhaps it's more involved than usual?"
  "I have not seen her for half of an hour," said the Queen. "There are guests inquiring after her."
  "Should I... go to the garderobe... and-?"
  "Wait," said the Queen. "For that she would need... Uff! I realize now where she must be. Thank you, son."
  Kelvin and all others nearby gave slight bows as the Queen took her leave. She ignored the gauntlet of other guests bowing as she passed, and made straight for the servants' room.

  While the band played on, seated casually on top of a table in spite of the complicated dress, her back to the Queen, was Mara. She was surrounded by commoners who were smiling and listening intently to some story.
  "...And then they made me their chief," she heard Mara say as she approached. Many of the listeners nodded and chuckled, some clapped and laughed, and those who saw the Queen approaching silenced themselves immediately and bowed. Soon enough everyone except the Countess had their head down.
  "Oh, you sillies!" said Mara to them. "It wasn't that good."
  "I wouldn't know," said the Queen. "I only heard its punchline."
  Mara yelped and hopped from the table, stumbling forward as she just missed clearing it and hit the edge. She was caught and helped up by two men. She thanked them quietly before facing the Queen and dipping low.
  "Oh, get up, you," snapped the Queen. Mara straightened up quickly and fought to keep her expression neutral. "And the rest of you. You have our gratitude for keeping Her Ladyship entertained, but she must return to her party." She turned and marched from the room. Mara gathered up her dress and hurried to catch up.
  She spoke after they had left the room. "Mother Queen, I didn't realize how long I'd lingered," she said. "I needed Heather's help in the - facilities - and after we returned, I was saying hello to them, and started talking, and then-"
  "I think I worked out on my own what happened," said the Queen.
  "Are you... angry with me?" said Mara. The Queen stopped walking. They were halfway between the two rooms now.
  "Yes," she said. "And No. Yes that you left your guests for so long." She sighed. "And no that... you strive to be a Princess of the people."
  "I'm not-- striving, Mother Queen," said Mara, struggling for a proper response. "Not that I'm aware of? It just... happened. And I should be meeting all guests, yes?"
  "Those are not the guests," she said. "They are the servants of the guests. Come."
  "Mother Queen," said Mara. "A moment, please. I need... I need guidance from you. At times you encourage me to never forget what and who I am, and at other times... the opposite. Please be plain with me. Must I really choose whom to associate with: rich or poor? Can I not do both?"
  "Well, of course you can do both," said the Queen. "That's a silly question. We all speak to gentry and servants."
  "It's only that I don't wish to speak to servants, as servants," said Mara. "That is the difference."
  The Queen sighed. "A talk for another time," she said. "In the meantime, you've not even begun to meet the guests. And there is more dancing, there will be entertainment. Come, come..."

  Mara resumed her place as the lady on the Prince's arm. A royalty-approved story of their courtship had been sent here and there, to discourage suspicious guests from interrogating her on the spot. Mara objected to the notion of any of it being patently untrue, however. Surprisingly, the family did work within that stipulation and created an honest, if incomplete, history for her. They had met during his travels, she had never been to the kingdom before and so did not recognize him as the Prince during their meetings, though the part about his life as a pauper had been omitted. She was still an orphan, and because it was entirely possible for one to be landed gentry, but dirt-poor, she was never described as personally wealthy. A story just detailed enough to tide over most, and just vague enough to cover some truths.
  Most of the guests were content to greet her, congratulate her, then begin speaking to Kelvin. At least she got to practice her smile and "queenspeech." Eventually the queue dwindled to nothing, and she made her way to Countess Lucinda, a familiar face in the crowd. Someone, at least, she could hold a conversation with. It wasn't a very deep one, but there was more than small talk.
  A small, blonde woman appearing to be their age approached. She smiled politely and nodded. Mara wondered if her smile was really as bittersweet as it seemed, or if she was reading into things too much.
  "Ladies," the woman said. "I am Countess Yvette of Spatten. I... wish to congratulate you on your betrothal to His Highness."
  "Oh, thank you," said Mara, smiling warmly. "And thank you for coming, as well. I hope your journey was not long or uncomfortable? Are you enjoying yourself?"
  "Oh... yes," said Yvette. "Considering."
  "Is everything all right?"
  "Ah, Yvette," said Lucinda familiarly. Mara wondered if they knew each other. "My condolences on your loss."
  Yvette seemed puzzled. "Oh, no," said Mara. "You've borne a loss? Was it recent? I also offer condolences."
  "I'm not certain what you mean," said Yvette, eyeing them both.
  "Did I misunderstand?" said Mara to Lucinda.
  "Not at all," said Lucinda. "The Countess here has lost a Prince."
  Mara gasped. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said. "Your kingdom's Prince? I hadn't heard any such news. Were you close?"
  Yvette's mouth tightened. She looked from one to the other, then grunted, turned abruptly, and stormed away. Lucinda giggled while Mara watched her meet up with another woman on the other side of the room.
  "What happened?" said Mara. "Did we say something to offend? Should we not have offered condolences?"
  Lucinda smiled and patted her shoulder. "Oh, you did that so well."
  "Did what?" said Mara. "And why are you laughing? You said she lost a Prince. That doesn't seem like something to snigger about."
  "Oh, stop it, dear," said Lucinda. "You know very well which Prince she 'lost.'"
  Mara stared at her uncomprehendingly. Lucinda sighed and glanced towards Kelvin. Mara looked his way, then back at her, and the comprehension came. She gasped loudly and glared at her friend.
  "No," she said. "She was one of the women who-? Oh, Lucinda, how could you?? I'm not interested in making enemies!"
  "She's not worth making friends with," she said. "And stop pretending you didn't know."
  Mara leaned close and kept her voice low, but through gritted teeth. "I did! not! know!" she said. "Their names were never spoken to me!"
  "Whaaat?"
  "Oh, this is-! Uuugh! I-I must make amends now!" sputtered Mara, and turned to leave.
  Lucinda caught her by the arm. " 'Make amends?' You intend to apologize? He chose you, not her!"
  "That has nothing to do with this! I knew the day would come when I would meet at least one of those women, but it's never been my intention to mock them to their faces! You do what you like, but I must--!"
  Mara grunted in frustration, pulled away from Lucinda's grasp and moved with great determination across the room. She acknowledged straggling well-wishers with a smile and a head bob, but did not stop to make conversation. Yvette was still with her companion, another woman seemingly of the same age, who was listening sympathetically to her impassioned speech, the topic of which Mara likely knew.
  The companion saw her first, and glared silently as Mara approached them both.
  "Countess," said Mara, relaxing her arms, but clasping her hands in front. "Countess, I beg your pardon for the intrusion, but there's been a terrible mistake."
  "Yes," said the companion, "More than one, at least."
  Mara glanced at the woman, then back to Yvette. "I sincerely apologize for any pain caused you. I truly had no idea that you were... that you had been presented to His Highness and... er... I-I believed my friend that you had lost someone dear to you. My offer of condolences was sincere."
  Yvette begrudgingly made eye contact with her. "No idea? Really? I am no fool, Countess of Riverbend."
  "But I didn't," she said. "Your name was never spoken to me. Truly! Perhaps they wished to-"
  "Nor mine?" said her companion.
  "I'm sorry, I--" said Mara, peering at her. "No, actually. You are...?"
  "Duchess," she said. "Duchess Cecily of Warbon. I, too, had been 'presented to His Highness.'"
  "Oh," said Mara, and was quiet a moment to take it all in. "My Ladies," she said, "I have no reason to make enemies of you, or anyone else here, I assure you! Would you be willing to start fresh, here and now? It is true that your names were never spoken to me, until now. I believe that the royal family was being discreet on your behalf, nothing more. Will you... If you're not leaving straightaway tomorrow, would you be willing to have tea with me? Give me the chance to make amends?"
  The two women were quiet, but relaxed their glares. They traded looks and sighed.
  "We... may be able to," said Yvette with a shrug.
  "Will she be there?" said the Duchess, gesturing behind Mara. Lucinda was there, watching the scene with a slightly contrite expression. She forced a smile and shrugged.
  "Ladies," she said, "I was only making sport. Surely worse things have been said of us all."
  "Lucinda..." groaned Mara, palming her face.
  "My apologies," she said, holding up her hands. "I meant no disrespect or disdain."
  An awkward silence followed as the two women decided whether to accept it or not. Mara did not wait.
  "Tomorrow," she said, "At 10 o'clock, I will have tea and cakes in my parlor. I would be honored if you joined me. If you do not... I will understand."
  The women traded looks again, then nodded slowly. Mara smiled and made pleasant goodbyes. Lucinda mirrored her friend's actions, then led her away by the hand.
  "Well played," she said.
  "Stop that. You're the one who made trouble," said Mara.
  Lucinda was about to protest, when Kelvin appeared at Mara's side. The musicians had returned from their break and started another musical introduction.
  "Beautiful ladies," he said, taking her arm. "I hope I'm not interrupting, but we're being summoned again to the dance floor."
  Mara stifled a groan and forced a smile. "Ohhhh, my favorite part of the evening... again," she said.

***********************

  Heather and Mara had started working together to lay out the tea and snacks. Mara had fussed and fretted over what would be the perfect food and drink to offer, working herself up more and more until Heather all but ordered her to her bedroom and to let the professional take over. That way Heather could be finished in only a few minutes versus a half hour. Mara was allowed back inside only after she was done. She wanted Heather to stay, but Heather bowed out gracefully, knowing better than her Lady that she was unusual for a high-born woman. Others did not wish to fraternize with serv-- assistants.
  Mara tried to sit quietly, but could not help but fidget, whether it was to adjust her clothes for the dozenth time, rearrange the items on the table, or get up and keep tidying the room. She made herself sit down again and be still, but the bowl of nuts in the center of the table called her name. She grabbed the bowl and began noshing impulsively. In the past she had forgone buying nuts because of the expense, but now that they were plentiful to her, she could hardly keep her hands away from them.
  Her mouth was full of walnuts and pecans, when there was a knock at the door. She got up quickly and was halfway to the door, then realized that she still held the bowl, and almost tossed it too hard back onto the table. It slid a bit and stopped just short of crushing any of the cakes. She suppressed the urge to fix the arrangement, and hurried to open the door. Lucinda was there, with an offering of a loaf of bread. Mara let her in and quickly returned to the table. It took her some time to figure out where to place the bread for maximum aesthetic effect.
  Lucinda seated herself. "No guests yet?" she said.
  "Well, there's you," said Mara, finally placing the bread just so before sitting. Lucinda feigned a pained expression.
  "Really?" she said. "I'm only a 'guest?' "
  "Yes," said Mara. "I mean-- No. That is-"
  Lucinda smiled and clasped her hand. "I tease, dear. You know that."
  "I don't," she said. "That is-- not really. Not as easily as you think. You see--" Mara stopped, trying to work out how to speak of herself within her royalty-approved lifestory. "I was-- When I was young, I--" She threw up her hands in frustration and submitted to at least one truth. "My father was unkind to me," she said. "I was never 'teased.' Never gently ribbed in jest or affection. Always... the cruelest of taunts and jeering. So it's very difficult for me to tell... Oh, listen to me. I'm being overwrought and foolish."
  Mara's hand hovered over the nut bowl again, but she forced herself to keep her hands in her lap. Then she took the teapot and began pouring for her friend.
  "If it's too cool," she said, "Let me know, and I'll ask Heather to bring more."
  "Thank you," said Lucinda, helping herself to condiments. "Mara... What you've just said is news to me. Your father was cruel to you?"
  "Ahhh," she said. "You know, I-I should have said nothing. We must be cheerful for our guests."
  "Yes, the ones who haven't arrived yet," said Lucinda. Mara got up and went to the door. She opened it and looked up and down the hallway, then lingered a few seconds. Then she shut it and returned to her seat.
  "I told you they weren't worth it," said Lucinda.
  "Lucinda, please," said Mara. "I... I'll make no judgments. I did say that I'd understand if they didn't come. And... I made an honest effort to make amends. I hope that's enough. But why were you cruel to her in the first place?"
  She made a noise of exasperation. "I was not trying to be cruel," she said. "I was only making sport. I didn't realize she'd be so hurt by it. Really, dear, it's been over a year since His Highness turned them down. Their parents should have found someone else by now. I hear that one of them - er, Countess Viola, I think - she ended up marrying. No doubt she's moved on."
  "Even so," said Mara, pouring her own tea, but then leaning back in her seat rather than drinking. "I've been interested in meeting them for some time now, if only to make up my own mind about them. The only thing I knew was that Kelvin had turned them down, and little else. I hadn't been thinking of them as poor girls to be mocked for it. And since I don't know how to tease or 'make sport,' as you say, I don't do it to others. Not on purpose, anyway."
  "Ugh," said Lucinda. "I am sorry. Will that do?"
  "I'm not angry with you," said Mara. "There's no need for that. What I meant to say is-- Look, growing up, I had no friends. And I don't exaggerate. I had no friends. But if you'd asked me then if I were lonely, I might have laughed, or scoffed, or... actually, more than likely growled something incoherent and stormed away, if I didn't try to strike you, or something. But now..." Her words drifted off, as did her gaze. She took her first sip of the tea, then added a bit of sugar to it and tried again.
  "I know now what I'd been missing," she said. "I'm not-- foolish enough to think I can be friends with everyone in the world. But it won't be because I'm trying to make enemies." She laughed once. "It just struck me as funny. I didn't have friends, and thought little to nothing of it, but now I have them, and-- I never want to be the other way again. But back then, I never thought to have any! I suspect that 'old me' would see me now as naive or foolish for placing such importance on befriending anyone. Isn't that funny to you?"
  Lucinda bobbed her head a bit in thought. "I see what you mean," she said. "I don't know if it's 'funny,' though. But if you truly grew up with such cruelty and loneliness until now, I'm... well, I'm happy for you that your fortunes have changed. Really changed. And oh! Once you and His Highness are married, we can trade stories about our husbands!" She giggled.
  "Er, why not now?"
  "Oh, no, no, dear," said Lucinda, clasping her hand again. "You're betrothed, but that is not enough. You haven't had the true husband and wife experiences yet."
  "Ah," said Mara, nodding. "I'll try to think of some good stories, then."
  When Heather returned to the room to freshen up the tea and snacks, Yvette and Cecily had still not arrived. Mara finally convinced Heather to join them for the rest of the teatime. Lucinda would not herself have befriended her own handmaidens, but knew of and accepted Mara's sometimes odd choice of companion. At least now she understood better why the Countess seemed to seek out friends anywhere and everywhere.

The Pauper Prince - Part 17

The Pauper Prince
Chapter 17

  Mara had grown fond of her future in-laws, especially the Queen, whose facade was cool but whose heart was warm. The King was still something of a cypher to her, but since giving the blessing to the marriage, he had been treating her to flashes of tenderness. Sometimes it was a kind look or warm smile, and his tones when speaking to her in private had become... softer. Sometimes he would let slip a joke that she was usually too surprised to react to, if she caught it.
  One of the most amazing things that happened was the King giving her permission to call him "Father" or "Sire," but only when alone or in the presence of the rest of the family. She stifled a happy shiver, then quietly thanked him for the privilege. What she needed to compromise on was referring to the Queen as "Mother." It seemed a dishonor to her real mother's memory to do so. The compromise was to call her "Mother Queen" - again, only in private.
  She continued to enjoy and thrive in her various academic lessons: reading, writing, mathematics, science, and so on. The Queen had ordered less academic lessons, such as courtly manners, dance, and diction, which Mara did not enjoy at all. Yet the Queen insisted that they were as much, if not more important than, Mara's preferred subjects.
  While with her assistant Heather, Mara had at first gleefully dropped the "queenspeech" for the more common tones familiar to her. Then Heather made the gentle suggestion to use the new intonations all the time so there would be, eventually, no thought behind them. Mara sulked at the very thought of it, until Heather dropped into the accent she'd been brought up in until her apprenticeship: it was, with only a few differences in vowel pronunciations, strikingly similar to Mara's and most of the castle's staff. Then she just as abruptly shifted back to the manner of speech familiar to Mara.
  "Take heart," said Heather. "There will not be as much change to your speech, either."
  Mara thought of a reply, likening these small steps to a feeling of becoming lost to someone not herself, but kept mum. These were superficial things, these changes in speech and demeanor. As long as no attempts were made to control her thoughts, rebellion could wait. Even her father, always ready for a fight, had taught the importance of choosing one's battles wisely.
  She had also taken Kelvin's advice and visited one of the two midwives employed in the castle grounds. Three if a daughter/apprentice were being counted. She had met them all while accompanying the Queen on her rounds, and on her own had sought the counsel of the older midwife named Adrienne. Her youngest daughter Annabelle was the apprentice in question. Adrienne had appeared to Mara to be, at the very least, the most experienced, and perhaps the one least likely to laugh in Mara's face if she asked the most basic questions about womanhood. Her instinct was correct; while taken aback by the near-complete misunderstanding of all things womanly, after hearing a part of Mara's story - a royally-sanctioned version of it, that is - Adrienne approached Mara's education as if explaining to a child for the first time, albeit one with a larger vocabulary.
  Mara kept a blank face while listening, even when Adrienne's descriptions became more... detailed, all the while imagining that she was going to be in a lot of pain. That was one of her questions, in fact. Adrienne was quiet now. She appeared to be giving the question much thought, and leaned back in her seat. She looked up at the ceiling while thinking.
  "I have seen you and His Highness taking walks about the castle grounds," she said, looking at Mara now, "And while I am not one to pry, linger, or eavesdrop, would it be impertinent for me to say that you two are very fond of each other?"
  It took Mara a moment to ascertain what she'd been asked, and there was much blushing when she did. She stifled a giggle. "Ah.... Yes, it-- I mean, no, it would not be impertinent. We are very fond of each other."
  "I only ask that," said Adrienne, "Because, while I cannot say for certain how much pleasure - or not - you would have on your wedding night and beyond, it's been my experience that husbands who truly love their wives are as interested in their pleasure, as in their own. Put another way, I suspect that His Highness would try very hard for you to enjoy it."
  Mara tried to speak, but was overcome by embarrassed giggles. Adrienne held up a reassuring hand. "M'lady, I meant no disrespect."
  "Hm?" said Mara, looking up and stifling her tittering. "Oh, I felt none. I want to thank you for not-- For being so understanding and patient. I know it's ridiculous for someone my age to know nothing about these things, but..."
  "From what you told me, it seems that yours was a sheltered life," said Adrienne. "The lengths that some parents go to to 'protect' their daughters from the world, hm?" The royally-sanctioned version of Mara's life did not include the parts about being dirt-poor and beaten daily. Mara smiled sadly and nodded.
  "Miss Adrienne," she said, "I know this is changing the subject some, but as a midwife and a woman of much experience in, in birthing children..."
  "...Yes, m'lady?"
  "Would you happen to know anything about curses?"

*******************************

  The Queen was gladdened that Mara was taking some of her lessons to heart and was hosting tea parties for her friends. What did not gladden her was that Mara's friends were, thus far, those of a lesser nature - servants and staff like Heather, Adrienne and Annabelle - versus Ladies of a higher station, such as the oft-visiting Duchesses, Countesses, and other Ladies of the court, some of whom she had met during Mara's First Banquet. Of course she knew never to turn down the Queen's invitations to tea, where said Ladies would always be, and behaved properly, and never said anything impertinent or untoward, but this is because she rarely spoke at all. She had no husband to complain about, and even if she did, could think of nothing about the Prince that warranted complaint. She also had no personal wealth and so could not complain about the tarnishing of her jewels or second homes needing minor, cosmetic repairs. Few things ruined a good airing of grievances than a quiet declaration of gratitude. She did not do such things on purpose; one of the noblewomen had tried an "Am I right?" on Mara, and she had replied with pure honesty. Mara was quiet after this, allowing the women to resume their mirthful conversation.

*******************************

  "It's a great shame, really," said the Queen during one of their private walks. Private if the Queen's handmaiden were discounted. Mara walked alone. "Some of the Ladies think of you as dull. I happen to know that you are not."
  "Do I embarrass you?" asked Mara with genuine concern. "I-I just don't know what to say around... the upper classes."
  "You know what to say to me," said the Queen. "I happen to be the most 'upper' of the classes."
  Mara allowed a small laugh. "What should I do, your Majesty? Should I talk about the things I've been reading? History? Science? Law?"
  "I would not recommend trying to dazzle them with tales of torts," said the Queen. "Have you not been reading poetry? Plays? Tales of romance and adventure?"
  "Uh..." she said, shrugging a bit, "Not really. Or not yet. Should I?"
  "Hm," said the Queen. "You are a... different woman, I will give you that."
  They walked on in silence. Then Mara had to ask, "You mean that as a kindness, yes?"
  "I would call it both a kindness and a criticism," she said. Mara's face fell. "Kelvin ultimately did not choose amongst the women we had selected, because in his mind, they were like any other woman of means or rank. 'Interchangeable,' he once called them. He chose you because you are... well, you, but at the same time, there is an advantage to at least trying to match one's peers."
  Another silence followed. Then: "I think I understand your meaning," said Mara. "I suppose my troubles come from not feeling as a 'peer' to the others."
  "You are a Countess."
  "But I was not born one."
  "No," said the Queen. "You earned it. And you will have earned the title of Princess by marriage. Remember that and use it."
  "Your Majesty," said Mara, then looked about, and decided that the handmaidens' presence still counted as 'private.' "Mother Queen," she continued, "I will do my best to 'match my peers,' as you say, but it worries me that, if it goes too far, I will become like the sort of woman that Kelvin would not choose."
  Another silence. "Then never stop worrying," said the Queen.

*******************************

  For the engagement banquet, Mara strongly protested their idea for her to be brought out and introduced after the party had begun. It was bad enough that she would be scrutinized by everyone in attendance, but to be blatantly made the center of attention was more than she could have borne. Kelvin had mistakenly assumed that she wanted to be given special attention, when blending into the crowd was her true wish. Anyone curious enough to seek out the mysterious woman who had stolen the hand of the Prince, would have plenty of opportunities later.
  She was given a dress complicated enough to require Heather's and another handmaiden's assistance. Trying to move about in it proved challenging, so she took some time practicing basic movements: standing, walking, sitting. Anything else would be left to the whims of chance. She was allowed to - or rather, told to - borrow an elaborate necklace from the Crown Jewels made of many gems, mostly diamonds, and some flecks of sapphires, rubies, and pearls. This was so she could spend the evening terrified of breaking or losing them. A spectacularly failed attempt was made to convince her to create holes in her ears. Her years of unwarranted pain were behind her now, she had decided, and she did not yield. Fortunately the royal family knew how to pick their battles, as well.
  Before stepping from the room, Mara practiced smiling, pleasant greetings and chitchat with Heather, though her mood was closer to "getting it over with." It was no secret to her that this banquet was as much a diplomatic mission as it was her big debut to the upper crusts.
  Heather followed her Lady all the way to the Great Hall, but then, like the other attendants, was required to leave her side and enter a separate room prepared for them. This was not Mara's rule at all. If she could have worked her will, everyone would mingle freely.
  The Great Hall was a bright, merry hubbub that did nothing to quell her worries. Kelvin, as always for similar occasions, made it a point of meeting her just outside of the room and escorting her in. It was easier to smile when her hand rested on his, though it was not easy to keep breathing as he guided her into the room. To her great, great, great relief, the room did not suddenly fall silent, with all eyes upon them. That was because Solomon first needed to announce them loudly to the group.
  "My Lords and Ladies!" he bellowed. "Give welcome to His Royal Highness Prince Kelvin of Gildern, and his intended, the beauteous Countess Mara of Riverbend!"
  Now it was time for the room to fall silent, with all eyes upon them. And so it was that she and the Prince were introduced after the party had begun, and were the centers of attention.
  The court musicians immediately altered their tune to something suitable for a grand and royal entrance. The crowd then applauded politely, upper and lower classes alike. She felt as though her entire weight were being held up by Kelvin's arm, though her knees were as steady as always. She glanced at him to see what sort of expression he held. It was a closed-mouth, dignified smile, with regal nods of the head to those gathered before them. By the time she forced a smile and polite nods out of herself, the applause was diminishing, and Kelvin was leading her towards the main banquet table. The King and Queen were already waiting for them on the center dais. Kelvin released his hold on her, then kissed her hand with a practiced flourish before standing beside the King. Her place was by the Queen.
  The other guests hurried to the take their seats at the other tables, with some minor debates occurring about the seating arrangements. The castle servants were experienced at quelling any true disagreements, and soon enough the guests were waiting for the royal family's cue to sit. Now it was time for Mara to put all her practice at sitting in this gown to good use.
  As soon as she managed to sit down and settle into her seat without destroying the gown, the King stood again, picking up his goblet, prompting all others present to do the same. Mara sighed quietly and went about the task of trying to stand up again. An attentive servant stood behind her, ready to pull back the seat once she needed it to be, which took longer than it ought to have. She stifled grunts while pushing and pulling her way up, and now was ready to hold up her own goblet. She was the last one in the room to do so.
  The King looked her way briefly, than began his speech. "My Lords, Ladies, friends and allies, assembled guests," he said. "We are honored by your presence at this, to announce and celebrate the betrothal of our son, Prince Kelvin of Gildern, to the beautiful Countess Mara of Riverbend. Raise your glasses and toast their long and fruitful marriage, and long life to them both!"
  A hubbub of echoed words, "huzzahs!" and more applause erupted in the room. The guests followed the King in sipping from their goblets, then seated themselves after him. Mara managed to sit down just slightly more quickly than before. Then the King suddenly clapped his hands twice. She stifled a groan, wondering if it meant more standing, then brightened as servants bustled into the room, pushing carts loaded with food and drink. They stationed themselves at all tables, but the servants at the King's table doled out food and drink first. As it was all laid out, Mara stole looks at the various guests, recognizing some, but most were strangers to her. She was particularly curious if any of the women that Kelvin had rejected were there. She caught sight of one young woman fanning herself and attempting to hide the fact that she was staring at this "Countess of Riverbend." To Mara's immediate right, though, was Ruth, Duchess of Gimsley, who also fanned herself constantly, but for a different reason. It was only Mara's status as Kelvin's intended that allowed for this break in seating arrangements. Ruth would have normally been beside the Queen.
  In fact, the seating arrangements made for awkward conversation. The Duchess preferred conversing with the Queen, and needed to speak with her around Mara, while Mara had managed to begin a budding friendship with Countess Lucinda, and likewise needed to speak with her around the Duchess. They had bonded on a mutual interest in history, and had been building on this.
  The food and drink, as always, were delicious and plentiful. Mara was feeling stuffed just as the desserts were wheeled out and served. They looked very tasty, but she could not bring herself to eat another bite. Instead she pushed the food around just enough to look like she had eaten some. It turned out that, similar to the Eleanor Elaine, servants took the good scraps for themselves, and the rest went to the livestock. Somebody would get a good helping of dessert that night.
  Suddenly the musicians began playing loudly. She looked up; this usually marked the start of an evening's entertainment. She watched and waited for the entertainers to emerge. Instead she felt somebody's hand on her shoulder. Looking back, it was Kelvin, smiling warmly at her. He stepped back and held out his hand, adding a minor bow. She smiled back but did not understand the significance. The musicians dragged out the song's introduction. Then the realization hit her like a rock to the face: No. Not a dance. Not a dance!
  She shook her head vigorously, eyes almost fully round in terror, when her gaze managed to fall on the Queen, whose expression was not one of approval. Kelvin patiently kept his hand out, until the Queen took it upon herself to grab Mara's hand and place it in his. She realized this had happened an instant before Kelvin squeezed and began pulling her gently from her seat. A villainous servant assisted him in his evil plot to make them both the center of attention.
  Once she was standing, she leaned in closely to whisper. "Please don't," she said.
  "We must, darling," he murmured. "No one else will dance unless we lead the way."
  She swallowed, put a hand on his chest, closed her eyes, and steeled herself. Then she opened her eyes, met his gaze, nodded, and allowed herself to be led to the center of the room, which was framed by the three banquet tables. She had been practicing dance, per the Queen's mandate, but until now, only with her instructor. She had not yet danced with Kelvin, and certainly not before an audience. They took their positions as the musicians kept repeating the song's introduction. She could tell by its beat that it was going to be a waltz. She struggled to breathe deeply and evenly, and kept looking at his feet to compare starting positions with her own.
  "Mara," he heard her say, and she looked up. It had been a long time, but he smiled at her the way he had done that one morning at the Eleanor Elaine. That one morning when she had been compelled to smile back just as brightly. She was not compelled to this time, until he spoke those words that gave her a chill every time: "I'm proud of you." Her lips parted on their own into a mirror of the smile she had given him back that day, but this time, she found herself unable to look away from him. Her fear melted away. Her breathing, deep and even. The hubbub of the room died away into a dull drone. Only the music became sharper and clearer. The introduction segued into the melody, and suddenly he was whirling and twirling her around. She was unaware of her feet touching the floor. She felt like she was floating, with Kelvin merely guiding her about. The guests, the servants, the furniture, even the music - everything faded away, and they danced in a state of bliss and a world of their own.
  She began leaning towards him, intending to rest her head on his shoulder or chest, but he guided her back gently and subtly shook his head. It was only then that she became aware again of others in the room. While they danced, other guests had come to the floor and joined them. They had been surrounded, and she had never noticed. They and the guests had been dancing in a circle; Mara had only been following Kelvin's lead and had been unaware where they had been going.
  When the music stopped, and the guests stood about applauding, Kelvin led her away from the dance floor and over to an area where other guests had been mingling. As they approached, the guests applauded politely, bowed, curtsied, uttered respectful greetings -- and Mara became keenly aware that she was going to need Heather's assistance very soon. Before Kelvin could begin introducing her, she pulled him closer and explained that she had "urgent business" to take care of. He eyed her curiously.
  "I-I need," she whispered, leaning in even closer, "I may have drank too much too quickly. I need to find Heather and-- She needs to help me with this dress, and-"
  "Ohh," he said, nodding. "Yes, yes, of course." He released her hand, and she smiled and nodded to the others before gathering up her dress to leave hastily.
  Some of the guests watched her leave, confused, and turned as one to look at the Prince.
  He shrugged. "She has urgent business to conduct," he said.

The Pauper Prince - part 16

The Pauper Prince
Chapter 16

  The Queen and her entourage arrived at Mara's new chambers, which had previously belonged to the Princess Flora, to inform her of a new duty, for which her training was to begin immediately: running the castle. All of it. As she explained it, the King ruled the kingdom, but she ruled his home. All decisions regarding the operations of the castle were hers alone, with one exception: the King's Guards. This duty fell to the Prince, as well as the King himself. There had been times when, in the King's absence, the Queen had ruled on his behalf, as had the Prince, but she assured Mara that this was not expected of her. At least, not any time soon.
  To Mara's relief, the Queen understood and abided that she was not yet proficient enough at reading or writing to take notes while the Queen explained each duty pertinent to the castle's area. A servant was appointed the task of writing and followed the women closely. What Mara did for herself, though, was to silently make a point of remembering the names of everyone they encountered, from masters to apprentices and everyone in between. There were quite a few names to remember, so she worked out different ways to do so, knowing that her system would be tested the next time she walked the grounds with the Queen.
  As she was introduced to the various workers and craftspeople, Mara became aware of an odd feeling within herself. Each person who was introduced to her made some effort at royal courtesy, either calling her "My Lady" or "Your Highness" (prematurely, but no one was corrected), and bowing according to their sex. What Mara soon realized was that she did not look forward to being greeted this way by other women... but did for the men. Still, anyone watching her expression or movement at the time would not have been able to tell. Being perfectly stoic when needed was something she'd learned early and well, thanks to her father.

  In most cases it was not the Queen's task to simply walk around and tell everyone what to do. She could hardly tell a master blacksmith how to forge or a master carpenter what kind of joins to use. She could and did, though, check for any delays in scheduled projects, listen to concerns of all kinds, mediate disagreements, keep on top of needed supplies, and evaluate workers for promotion, demotion or dismissal. The areas where the Queen was very much involved were the kitchen, attendant staff, and handmaidens. The King and the Prince knew what they wanted and needed for their valets; the Queen's job was to find their matches, as well as being in charge of the handmaidens and other attendants. As for the kitchen, setting the menu for banquets, ensuring that the proper ingredients were ordered in the proper quantities, and guiding the overall quality of the food was her top priority. Food, in her mind, ran the kingdom. It was during their first visit here that the Queen put Mara on the spot, urging her to provide the kitchenmaster with the recipe for her vaunted Lamb Stew - the one that had supposedly won the heart of the Prince. Mara tried to beg it off, insisting that a starving man would find any meal delicious, but the Queen insisted back, with far more weight than she. Mara acquiesced and listed whatever ingredients she could remember. The kitchenmaster wrote down the ingredients, regarded them with minor suspicion, and promised to create the stew as best as he could with them. Mara would be satisfied if no one spat it out after a taste.
  The Queen had attempted to talk Mara out of her request for Heather as her personal handmaiden - the girl was still a mere apprentice, after all - but Mara was gently, respectfully insistent. The Queen was intrigued by this persuasive approach, and finally allowed it. She was even allowed to set her own "rules" for Heather's conduct towards her. The first two "rules" were no curtseying or royal addresses, unless being watched by others. Another "rule" was that she was Mara's assistant, not servant. Heather was also encouraged to speak her mind about any subject. She had been conditioned, though, to do anything but that, so there was much progress to be made. Mara herself had far to go for her own journey towards royalty. She had made a private vow to herself to never forget her beginnings, and was counting on Heather reminding her if the vow wavered.

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  Setting the date of the wedding, making the guest list and planning the engagement banquet was entirely out of her and the Prince's hands. The Queen was at least telling them what to expect, but in such a way that did not invite differing opinion. Mara found it interesting that Kelvin, so quick to argue about almost everything with his father, never spoke up to his mother. In fairness her plans for the engagement celebration and wedding did not seem overly elaborate or bizarre, even to Mara's still-common mind. Perhaps there really was nothing to disagree with. Or perhaps their relationship was just that amenable. There was still so very much for her to discover.
  Nearly three weeks after the King and Queen had given their blessings to the marriage, Mara was in her study/parlor/sitting room/library, borrowed papers and books spread all over the serving table. Learning the alphabet and reading simple words were coming along smoothly and quickly for her. What was troublesome was mastering the pen and ink for writing. She had pages covered with letters, numbers, symbols and words that seemed to have more smeared black blobs on them than anything legible. As a result she had quickly developed the bad habit of reading more than writing. The various papers and books strewn about were perhaps beyond her reading level, but she preferred this challenge. Better to get through history and law more quickly. Especially the law.
  She was engrossed enough in trying to slog through the obtuse language known as Legalese, to have missed the first knocks at her door. The next round of knocking was loud enough to startle her. She was still holding one of the books on her way to answering the door.
  It was Kelvin, whom she would always make time for. She beamed and threw the door open wide, but made sure to close it behind him before burying herself in his embrace. Propriety still mattered much more to her than to him. When they parted, he paused to stare into her eyes and comment on how Heather had arranged Mara's hair that day. He was yet to be displeased with her results.
  Kelvin noticed her book, not to mention the piles of papers at the other end of the room. "I hope I'm not interrupting something important?" he said, offering his arm to her. She smiled and shook her head, then awkardly switched the book to her other hand so she could take his arm. They walked slowly together to a settee and sat down. "It's good that you have such a passion for reading," he said. "And learning in general."
  "I don't want to be ignorant anymore," she said.
  "I'd say that you've made good on your promise not to be 'idle' around here," he said. "I hope you know that I'm very proud of you?"
  Mara looked away and blushed to rival the garden's reddest rose. Between his declarations of love and of being proud of her, she found the latter to be far more heartwarming. "Yes," she said. "And you know that I'm... very grateful, yes? For everything."
  He leaned over and shared another, quick kiss with her. "You do like to read," he said. "I'd love to see how your writing is coming along."
  "Oh!" she said. "Um...." She shifted uncomfortably, "I don't think that you'd be very proud of that. It's... messy."
  "Why don't you show me?" he said. "I could probably give pointers. It takes a lot of practice; believe me, I know."
  "Um..." she said, looking back at the pile, "I think most of it is buried somewhere. Do you really need to see it now?  If I knew you were coming-"
  "That's fine," he said. "Later, then, as you wish. I really came for a different reason. May I?" He gently took the book she was holding and set it aside. A second later she realized that her place was now lost, but beat down the frustration in her face and smiled.
  "When we were in the tower of the Crown Jewels," he said, "And you were measured for Elisabeta's ring, it dawned on me that... well, that you don't have anything like that for yourself."
  "...I'm not sure I understand what that means," she said. "I'll have a gigantic wedding ring, but... not?"
  "What I mean is," he said, "That it's a family heirloom. It belongs to this family, not you, per se. Flora's tiara was made for her, though you'll inherit it. I realized that you don't have anything that's truly... yours. Something truly nice."
  "Something 'nice?'" she said, then chuckled. "Dearest Kelvin, I'm surrounded by nothing but 'nice' things. Things that I never thought I'd even see, let alone have. What is it you think I'm missing?"
  He reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a small box, but kept it partly hidden from her. "I should just show you, then," he said, breathing heavily now. He wiped at some sweat on his brow. This concerned her.
  "Is something wrong?" she said, trying to feel his forehead. He took her hand gently and kissed the palm before letting go.
  "I'm fine," he said. "I feel splendid. Just... a bit more nervous than I expected. I know you said, said that you don't expect fancy things, and I'm glad of that, but also... you make me want to. Uh, uh, give you fancy things. Nice things. You don't ask, and certainly not demand, so... I enjoy it. And so... I hope that you like this."
  He held out the small box, and opened it, then realized it was facing the wrong way and almost dropped it in his haste to turn it around. Inside was a ring, but not Elisabeta's ruby. This one was topped by an oval emerald of at least two carats, and surrounded by eight alternating rubies and diamonds - four of each kind, and each at least one carat. The band was all gold and wide enough all the way around to include carvings on each side, mostly of a floral nature. Kelvin's nervousness caused his hand to tremble; the light coming through the window caught the quivering gems and lit them up like tiny, shimmering torches.
  Mara reacted by widening her eyes to near-perfect circles and gasping - twice - then unintentionally holding her breath while staring. Kelvin peered at her, trying to gauge her thoughts, but eventually gave in.
  "I admit that I was also speechless when I saw Roderick's fine work," he said. "He took my idea and raw materials and made this masterpiece. I wanted the emerald to be the centerpiece, like the ones in your eyes."
  "Wh--What's in my eyes?" she said, tearing her gaze away.
  "I was just-- comparing them to emeralds," he said, blushing at his own words. "That's all."
  She smiled. "Oh, that's very kind. I never really thought of them as being especially green. Kelvin? You... say that I make you... want to give me things like this?"
  "I thought it would be a nice way to show your betrothal," he said. "Until the actual wedding, and you get Elisabeta's ring. But this... this would be yours, to do with as you please. See, I... Aside from the Crown Jewels, over time we accumulate a personal wealth of gems, precious metals, custom jewels. So, I took some of my own gems, and some of my own gold, showed Roderick what I wanted, and he made this."
  "If everything came from you, that means it's yours."
  "NoNo," he said. "It's yours. Remember my promise to you. Please. Allow me?" He reached first for her right hand, then remembered its purpose and took her left hand instead. It took all of her restraint to keep from yanking it away, especially when he slipped it on her finger. A perfect fit. He held her hand by the very tips of the fingers. For a long time she couldn't do much more than stare at it and silently curse herself for being struck so dumb by a piece of jewelry. But then, it was quite a piece. It was large, and her fingers were long and slender, but it somehow seemed just right for her hand.
  "Thank you," she whispered. "You wondered if I 'like' it. I love it. Is it all right if I show this to Heather?"
  "Your servant?"
  "Assistant," she said.
  "I've said before, it's yours to do with as you please," he said. "Of course I'm hoping that what you please is to wear it and show it to everyone, not just your ser-- assistant. Did you mean show it to her right now?"
  "No," she said. "I meant show her first. Before other people."
  "You're very fond of her."
  "In a way, she's as new at her job as I am," said Mara. "We're both learning. And... I enjoy her company. Er, Kelvin... there's something I've been thinking about of late, and I think this is the perfect opportunity." She arose from the settee. "Wait here," she said. "Will you wait here? I'll just be a second."
  "Of course."
  Mara hurried into her bedroom, then returned moments later, holding something behind her back. "Um," she said clearing her throat. "I've been thinking about how you've given me so much, and... I haven't really been able to return the favor. You know that I never had much."
  "Dearest, it's not 'things' that you give me."
  "Well, I hope you tell me someday what I do give you, but until then... I want you to have this." From behind her back she produced her sword, and held it horizontally before him. "It's what I've had the longest, so I think that makes it my most... precious possession? Or perhaps just the oldest. Either way, I've been thinking that, you've given me so much, and I don't have much of my own, but I have this, so... I hope you'll take it."
  "Oh, Mara," he said, rising, "I couldn't take this from you. As you say, it's your most precious possession. It's been your weapon, your protector, for most of your life. Please; you must keep it."
  She opened her mouth to speak, but had no words. Still holding it aloft, she started noticing its flaws. The wearing and weathering of the leather scabbard, splotchy coloring, fraying straps. She pulled out the blade part way, each ding and dullness on the edge now an eyesore to her.
  "You're right," she said, resheathing the blade. "This is old and shabby. Straps barely hanging on. The scabbard's tip worn through to the blade. This is no gift for a Prince. It's junk. You must think I'm a fool."
  "What?" he said, waving his hands. "NoNoNo, that's not what I meant at all! I meant that there's no reason for you to give up--" He stopped, looked about, rubbed the back of his neck, fidgeted. "I'm the fool," he said. "Please forgive me." He reached out to try to take the sword from her, but she held it tight.
  "You're just accepting it out of pity," she said.
  "It is not pity," he said with a hint of irritation. "I am honored by your gift. Truly. You know, it's said that those who give all that they have are greater than those who give from their surplus. Please, Mara; I accept your gift with all my heart."
  "You mean it?" she said, one eyebrow cocked.
  "Do you mean it?"
  She was silent, and then released her hold on the sword. He took it and felt along the scabbard, turned it around, pulled out the blade and popped it back in. "It is flawed," he said. "But beautiful. If, Lord forbid, I must ride into battle someday, I promise that I'll have this with me."
  She scoffed. "You don't want to ride out with that," she said. "Not without a lot of repairs, anyway."
  "I won't change any of it," he said. "It would be with me to remind me of you. To remind me what I would be fighting for."
  "Well, if there were ever a war," she said, "I'd be fighting with you, of course. It wouldn't have to be with my old sword. I wouldn't need anything fancy, though I suppose you'd want me to have one. Really, I'd be fine with a common soldier's broadsword. Something strong, and sturdy."
  Kelvin regarded her in silence for a time, then smiled, set down his gift, and pulled her into a tight embrace. "No matter where I go," he said, "You will be with me."
  Much time was spent buried in kisses, which nearly became far more than that. Kelvin managed to hold himself in check in time. Mara sensed some frustration in him but did not know the exact cause. She also noticed that Kelvin took longer than usual to compose himself after their passionate exchanges.
  "Darling," he said, wiping sweat from his mouth. "I was wondering if you'd be willing to read to me? I'd love to hear how far you've come."
  "I'd be willing," she said. "But please don't laugh at me. I still have to sound out the letters for many words. It sounds odd, but it helps me remember."
  "I learned the same way," he said. "And I would never laugh at you."
  "Well... I hope you would if I said something funny? Then you should laugh."
  Which he did.