Lessons?

The princess was having a b**** session about her wedding dress.

"I HATE WHITE! I WON'T WEAR IT! TELL HIM I WON'T WEAR IT!" She threw the drawing to the floor. I scooped it from the floor before she could trample on it, handing it back to the official. He hurried away and the princess continued to scream and moan about colours and extravagance. "IT'S LIKE HE DOESN'T EVEN CARE ABOUT WHAT I WANT!"

"Maybe he doesn't." I muttered. She turned to glare at me.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

"Nothing. I have to go." And I left, ignoring her screams as they continued. She was like a petulant child. Thank goodness Kevin had never been like that.

I hid downstairs, doing small jobs for the cook for a while, before deciding I had better brave the upstairs once more. It had become a common practice for me to meet the prince once a day to report on the princess. Not that they varied. Mainly, 'she's being a pain, she loves you, she hates the wedding plans.' Selfish woman; she was such a burden. I saw him each day become more worn and stretched. What would he be like once he married her- if indeed I didn't succeed before then. She made it difficult however. While she could hate me for everything under the sun, she always found something good to say about the prince. She always forgave him, in her own little way.

I had to tell him he'd have to contribute in some way, because she was going to have me killed if I didn't start letting up, present or no present.

I slipped in to the hall of mirrors silently, seeing him pacing anxiously. He lifted his head, facing away from me, and addressed what to him was an empty room.

"Kayla, I've decided that, to fulfill your job more thoroughly, you need to take some lessons, to learn a bit about our culture."

What? He knew I was there? Or was he rehearsing? No, why would he do that? The moment in the closet flashed through my head but I shook it aside.

"Why?" I asked, curious. He span around, shocked, and some small part of me congratulated myself on being able to sneak up on him. I frowned at myself. Why should I congratulated myself?

"Um..." He said and looked concerned. I'd never seen him speechless before. It was... interesting. And unsettling.

"Why would I need lessons?"

"I thought it would be best if you knew a little of our culture. It would help if we were trying to bridge the gap between our cultures."

"Oh." I hadn't thought of it like that. "Well... I suppose that makes sense. But I'm not taking lessons. I'm not in school."

"It wouldn't be actual lessons. More, learning with people trained to educate those who need instruction on matters like those you would discover."

I frowned at him.

"Saying it in a roundabout posh way doesn't make any difference. It's still school."

"I promise you won't be graded?" His attempt at a joke made me smile, but I still shook my head. "Well at least think on it?"

I rolled my eyes and consented to do so.

"Fine."

"Thank you. So, how is the princess?"

"Screaming. She hates the dress."

"So I have been informed."

"She is... difficult. And I'm afraid I can't do much more without getting killed. I don't think the fact I was a present from you will be able to hold as a safety net much longer. She's getting... out of hand."

"In what way?"

"She's just getting a little too annoyed at me. I think she'll snap soon. But at me, not you. She adores you. You're perfect." He looked a little startled at this last comment. "To her I mean." I added hurriedly.

"Well, there is not much I can do, but I will think of something."

"You have to make her not like you. It's the only way this is going to be possible. As long as she likes you, she's going to forgive you. You have to make her call it off..."

"It's not that simple." He muttered and turned away.

I waited anxiously. My emotions had been scattered for days, but now they had all quietened. Except for my anxiety. He wouldn't be able to stop it if she said I was to be killed. That would look too suspicious, especially with the rumours that had already floated around.

"Do you think...?"

"What?" He turned to me again, looking hopeful.

"Do you think she will kill me?"

"No."

"Why?"

"She wouldn't dare. I wouldn't let her." He looked suprised at the words as they left his mouth, and I stared at him.

"You wouldn't?"

The End

81 comments about this exercise Feed