Joseph's eyes widened. It had been such an innocent conversation. Well, not entirely innocent. Their conversations were admittedly increasingly flirtatious lately. But still, she'd just been talking about how necessary she found it to maintain a nice garden, not just for the flowers, but for having something calming to do when being royalty was too stressful. He'd complimented her on her ability to keep some sense of balance, however slight, to take care of herself. Then he'd said it.

"That's one of the reasons I love you."

He hadn't meant to say it. It was out of his mouth before he even knew he'd started speaking. He only hoped she hadn't caught it, or hadn't understood it the way he'd meant it, something, anything.

He hoped in vain.

"Really, Joseph? Please do elaborate!"

He cleared his throat. "I mean, of course, that it's important to take some time to care for yourself-"

"Not that part," she said merrily, gently swatting his arm. "The other bit."

He cleared his throat again. "Other bit, your majesty?"

She stopped walking, her arm that was looped through his pulling him to an abrupt halt. "You said it's a reason you love me."

He cleared his throat a third time. "Yes. Well. I mean, of course, that you are . . . you're a very . . . loveable woman. Beloved of all your subjects, of course."

"Ah. Of course. My subjects." Her tone was disbelieving, absolutely not accepting this explanation, but if he wasn't mistaken, there was a hint of disappointment in there too, and suddenly he knew he couldn't leave it that way.

"And, you know, even more so those of us blessed to know you. Those of us loyal to you."

"Yes, of course," she said, now almost sarcastic, though not cruelly so. "The well-known love of an employee for an employer."

"Well, yes, but I meant . . . I meant closer than that. If it's not too presumptuous . . . those of us blessed to be your friend."

"Ah. One of the reasons you, and Charlotte, and of course my dear friend Queen Veronica, all love me."

"Yes, exactly!" He hesitated a moment, as they both turned in mutual agreement to slowly resume their walk. "If it's not too . . . too entirely presumptuous . . . Clarisse . . . perhaps me in particular, even out of us three."

She didn't speak a response, simply gave a permissive nod, enough to indicate that, at the very least, it was not too presumptuous of him at all.

They continued their return trip to the castle, then through the corridors to her suite where they knew Paolo would be arriving soon, in silence, but each fighting secret smiles that transcended any need for communication.

*CJ*CJ*CJ*

Clarisse nodded once to Joseph as he bowed and retreated from her room once she'd entered. She struggled to keep up her composure. But the moment she was alone, she felt the relatively secret smile that had been on her lips for the past ten minutes break into an all-out multi-megawatt grin. She walked to the middle of the room, dragging her fingers slowly along furniture, then suddenly spun in a circle like a schoolgirl getting ready for her first big dance.

He loved her! He could try to amend his statement all he wanted, she knew what he'd meant, and what's more, she knew that he'd meant it. He loved her, he loved her, he loved her!

Somehow, everything about her felt different, in a way she'd never experienced or expected to experience. She felt . . . better. Greater. More whole, more complete. More capable. More witty, more charming, more gracious. Just . . . more.

She stopped after her third or fourth spin, not wanting to make herself dizzy, and somehow ended facing a small mirror kept on the wall.

Pretty. That's how she felt. She felt pretty. She wasn't a vain woman, at least she didn't think she was, but she was well aware that, through some freak combination of genetics, she had a face structured just a little more symmetrically pleasing than most. She personally wasn't a huge fan of the slightly upturned point to her nose, but Rupert (may he rest in peace, her mind supplied unbidden) had always proclaimed it one of the best parts in a structure of wonderful features. She'd been made up and dressed and made over by the best tailors, dressmakers, hairdressers, and makeup artists in the world. She'd felt as beautiful as a woman could ever be expected to feel.

But knowing - not just suspecting, but truly knowing - that he loved her too, made her feel . . . pretty. She couldn't really explain the difference, but it was absolutely true. And she pitied any woman who had never felt as she felt tonight.

Her reverie was interrupted by a light knock followed by the entrance of her ladies' maids, Charlotte, and (heard before seen) Paolo, trailed by his assistants.

"Your majesty, it is I, Paolo, here to make your ravishing beauty into something even more ravishing and more beautiful! Can you believe this? Nobody believe this, but always it is the truth, eh? You will see! How you feel tonight, eh? You feel ready for ball?" With this ramble of words finally spewed to completion, he bent over her hand and began kissing his way around the back. She hastily shot Charlotte a help me look, and Charlotte started handing Paolo instruments he would need in his work, necessitating his release of her majesty's soaked hand.

As only seconds passed during this hand-kissing interlude, she still felt she ought to answer his question. "Paolo, tonight . . . I feel pretty."

"That is before Paolo touch you! When Paolo is done you will feel as you are - the most beautiful creature on the planet!"

She smiled to him. She couldn't tell him, of course, but for tonight, she was perfectly happy with feeling pretty.

Well, perfectly happy feeling pretty and hopefully managing to persuade Joseph to join her in a dance once the ball advanced sufficiently for it to be appropriate.

Little did she know that tragedy would strike before that could happen.

I Feel Pretty

I feel pretty,
Oh, so pretty,
I feel pretty and witty and bright!
And I pity
Any girl who isn't me tonight.

I feel charming,
Oh, so charming
It's alarming how charming I feel!
And so pretty
That I hardly can believe I'm real.

See the pretty girl in that mirror there:
Who can that attractive girl be?
Such a pretty face,
Such a pretty dress,
Such a pretty smile,
Such a pretty me!

I feel stunning
And entrancing,
Feel like running and dancing for joy,
For I'm loved
By a pretty wonderful boy!