Catleya

by Claidi

She thought she was but a bane to her illustrious family. And despite her deeds, she still could not see past the epithet that demoted her superficially. But events would happen, changing the way people looked on her, and the way she looked unto herself.

9. Tarnished Square Of White Cloth

When she was born, she was predicted to be just like her mother, Queen Ella. But when she grew up, she realized that this assertion was not all good. She was only seen as the Flower of Kyrria. But soon, that would be changed.

~*~

 The Coventry garden was not what I had expected. Because of the ghastly meaning behind the word, I had envisioned the place as a cold, dreary place where the ladies were forced to have leisure time. There would be Wistrian Ladies in every corner of the garden, watching over them like raptors, biting and hissing at a dissatisfaction a girl might have happened to commit. Their faces would all be gaunt, lifeless, and hopeless. The flowers would be wilted and there would be moths instead of butterflies. The sun never shined on that area of Kyrria because it felt that all its happy radiant rays would be sucked up by that abysmal hole.

But that was my cynical, pessimistic, and rambling mind imagining things. I was too angry to think that Wistria could be anything other than purple, blue, white, pink, and frustrations.

Imagine my surprise when I actually found the Coventry garden as one of places I would want to be banished to.

The whole environment was paradise enclosed in a tall brick wall encircling the garden. There were wisterias—but then I had already concluded that Wistria wouldn't be Wistria without the oh so special wisteria—and along with it were more flowers. When outside, I had had a sickening overdose of this particular plant, here it was not so apparent. The different flowers were balanced out in number and pattern. There were roses, tulips, hydrangeas, amaryllises, peonies, and lilies. The rose vines climbed the brick walls, and the barks of thick oaks and mahoganies. The roses bloomed in every color possible: crimson, pink, white, and yellow. They were the biggest roses I had ever seen, next to the roses in our castle. Mixed with roses was another kind of vine with different flowers. The flowers were tubular, stained with the color of either white or scarlet. Hummingbirds gathered around it, pecking it, surrounding it. It was probably a cypress vine, a vine notorious for attracting hummingbirds. The beds were arranged in patterns that mimicked the rainbow: the blue tulips, red amaryllises, indigo peonies, orange dahlias, yellow daisies, dainty violets, and the green leaves of mint. There was a small fishpond on one corner of the garden. Weeping willows let their arms drift above the crystalline surface. Large gold and orange fish nibbled on some of the tips. There were butterflies flitting from flower to another, dancing with each other, and giving more color to the garden. There were many wrought iron tables, chairs, and benches scattered about the garden. Each had a uniformed design of curling tendrils.

The ladies were not gaunt, lifeless, and hopeless. In fact, they looked too happy for words. They were richly clad in fashionable day gowns—the high waist, puffed sleeves, and rich embroidery. Even the fabric was rich: cambric muslins, glowing satins, soft silks. They were all quite lovely in their apparel, and all of them had smiles on their faces. The benches underneath the trees were populated with girls gossiping or reading books. Some of the ladies were seated in the benches covered by the weeping willows. A good number was taking notice of the population of fish. Daring ladies sat on the carpet of grass, although there was a barrier of a soft rug. There were no scrutinizing Wistrian Ladies. In fact, the Wistrian Ladies (they stood out because most of the ladies were young; the Wistrian Ladies were middle-aged or older) also enjoyed their own leisure time. They each carried books, or some wrote on notebooks. But a good number of Wistrian Ladies and young ladies alike just admired the beautiful Coventry garden.

This was obviously not my vision of the Coventry garden.

I was still fresh from all the frustrations that had erupted with my brief solitude. It didn't occur to me that the sight of this garden would actually improve my angry disposition. But it did help.

Lady Quenby was lying. It was difficult going to the Coventry garden. Well, what did you expect from a garden that was "a place isolated from the ills of society?" My sense of direction was appalling, so it was no great wonder for me to be lost in a matter of minutes. Aside from that, the nauseating and repetitive interior design of the corridors (purple walls, too many paintings) caused such confusion in my mind, that I swore I had not been moving at all! I was lucky that a servant happened to pass by.

I asked for directions, and she simply said that to go to the Coventry garden, I should just follow a series of paintings that depicted only gardens. By then, I had been lost for a good ten minutes and was certain that this girl was delirious. But I did look at the paintings and realized that they could be directions. There were themes on the paintings: dining rooms, study rooms, classrooms, receiving rooms, and yes, gardens. I did follow the garden-depicting paintings, and lo and behold! I had found myself in the doorway to the Coventry garden.

If I had known that this was the only way to not get lost, then I maybe I would not have turned at all corridors. So that was what the paintings were for! It was an ingenious move, combining the arts and the directions! It was certainly impressing. Now the paintings didn't seem at all crowding, annoying, and useless!

In the Coventry garden, Lady Ophelia noticed me. She was reading a book in one of the chairs surrounding a large wrought iron table with glass. Come to think of it, that large table and groups of chairs at the center of the garden must be the portion especially for the faculty. Lady Ophelia stood up, and approached me. She held my hand and led me to the center of the garden.

"Ladies!" she called the attention of everyone in a round and loud voice.

At her voice, the soft giggling and whispered gossips stopped. All of the attention came to the center. And me. At the sight of me, almost all the ladies gasped and their eyes rounded. I frowned slightly at their unwanted attention. Being princess was not at all fine and dandy at times when everyone simply couldn't believe that you were in the same proximity as they were. If they were teaching manners here, well I should hope that they teach these people not to gawk so much! It was disconcerting and embarrassing! Not to mention rude.

But their gawking lasted only for about five seconds, and then suddenly, all of them were dropping curtsies, much to my horror. I thought Lady Ophelia and Lady Quenby clarified that this was not necessary! I turned a questioning gaze towards Lady Ophelia, who was not so disturbed. Maybe they didn't tell them yet…

"I'm sorry dear but we haven't told the ladies yet that you are going to be treated as an equal. We have taught them to curtsy immediately at the sight of royalty," Lady Ophelia whispered to me. She then turned her gaze. "Ladies, we have a new student in our wonderful institution," Lady Ophelia began when all of them stopped curtsying, "As you can see, our institution is once again graced with the presence of one of The Royal Highnesses. Your Highness, Princess Catleya."

She could have just said, "She is a princess so stop looking and kiss the ground she walks upon."

"Welcome, Your Highness," chorused the ladies in perfectly lilted voices.

Lady Ophelia chuckled. "Now, ladies, we shall have none of that. Princess Catleya here has consented that we treat her as an equal. She is a student in Wistria just like you ladies. And as her Royal Ancestors had been treated before, she shall be seen as a lady like you. So you are all encouraged—"

"Not to stop breathing when she comes near," I mumbled.

"—to treat her like any other student. Meaning curtsies and addresses are not called for. And please, ladies, make her first day here welcoming."

Lady Ophelia smiled at me, and then softly pushed me away. Great, now I was all alone. I didn't have a single friend in here.  And amidst all the prim and proper ladies I felt that I stood out like an ugly scent from many perfumes. They were all dainty and pretty creatures, while I was struggling not be stranded in one category of conformity. Good grief…how was I going last? How I hated Mother and Father! Hypocrites! I had heard that Father, when he and Mother were still young, greatly opposed my mother's finishing in Jenn. And Mother personally loathed finishing schools. But no. They still sent me to this place! And to think, they tried to uphold justice in the kingdom of Kyrria when they couldn't even uphold justice in their own family! They probably knew that they were throwing me as feed for alligators. And Owen! He knew that I would suffer great torment. He was not a rascal brother, but a rather caring one so why in the world did he even support this dreadful proposition? Damn them all—

"Pri—I mean, Catleya!" the very fist lady came to me. I stared blankly at her at first, but immediately forced a smile on my face. I shouldn't take my anger out on the innocent people who had nothing to do with my deportation. Besides, they could be the same people who could make Wistria more bearable. I was too sincere in loathing Wistria, forgetting that maybe, just maybe, I would actually enjoy my stay—somehow.

The lady was actually very beautiful. Her blond hair was on a tight bun, but small wisps of her hair escaped it, framing her porcelain face. Her blue eyes were startlingly bright and clear, like the sky. Her full lips were pressed into a smile that released two dimples. She was shorter than me but then, it was probably because I was tall for my age, and she was almost the same age as I was.

"I'm Sofia of Denta," she said brightly. "I'd be happy to get you acquainted with Wistria." She smiled again. Good grief, could she please stop doing that? She strangely reminded me of that Amara lady that Tristan introduced me to. I really didn't know why I wanted to mutilate Amara's face, and Sofia's resemblance simply encouraged me. Stop thinking that!

"I'm Catleya—" of what? I couldn't possibly say of Kyrria because that would mean royalty. And wasn't I supposed to be an equal, my blueblood put to shelf? "But you know that already. Pleased to meet you."

"And you too," Sofia replied. "It would be so much fun to have you here in Wistria. We haven't had much new students to interact with. And our only interaction with the outside world is the weekly ball held on Friday. It is where we showcase our achieved learning in protocol." She glanced behind her, and seemed to signal two more girls to join her.

Those two girls were lovely too. One had rich auburn hair falling behind her back in a half-ponytail. She was just as tall as I was, and she walked with the grace of a cat. The other was brown-haired. She was the most petite of the three, but curvaceous in every angle. They both smiled at me, hesitantly, as if they were arguing in their mind whether or not to curtsy or just say hello.

Sofia grinned at them. She gestured at the auburn haired one. "This is Gianna of Allem." Gianna almost curtsied but stopped herself. The first thing I noticed about her up-close was the hazel eyes with specks of green. She reminded me of an elf, for some reason. Sofia then gestured at the other one. "This is Lorena of Remad." Lorena just nodded.

"Where is your room situated, Catleya?" Sofia asked. She took my hand and led me to a bench underneath one of the willows. This was one of the best places, I noticed. It fronted the fishpond nicely, was shaded by the sun, and was cool in climate.

I tried to remember. "The West Wing."

"Now I remember! You are in the room with the lady with the tiara, am I right?" Lorena suddenly said.

I just nodded.

"I wondered who was going to stay there. I mean, all the rooms are occupied except that one. Now I know. It's specialized for roy—" She bit her tongue.

Sofia sat down on one of the chairs and invited me to do the same, which I promptly did. Gianna and Lorena did the same. When I sat down, I realized that many of the girls had been staring at us. Their faces were matter-of-fact. Some were whispering furiously to one another and glancing our way. Other just shrugged their shoulders or shook their heads.

"You can treat me as an equal," I told the three of them, "but it doesn't necessarily mean that you have to pretend I'm not royalty at all. It's not as if it's taboo between us."

Hearing that, Gianna opened the subject into royalty. "A lot of royalty had come here. Why, last year, Prince Tristan of Ayortha came to one of our weekly balls," Gianna told me. "He is most handsome." She giggled and the two others joined.

"Oh yes, he is," I admitted but rather grudgingly. "We had gotten along nicely in Ayortha."

All three eyes widened. "You were with him?" Gianna squeaked. I nodded. "How I wish we could trade places! I have had this kind of infatuation with him," she said. I just had to stare. "Well, almost all the young ladies in Wistria are smitten by him." Sofia and Lorena nodded.

Sofia said, "Well, who wouldn't? He is a prince, intelligent, courteous, and the most handsome man I had ever seen. Isn't he fortunate to have had inherited Queen Vanessa's good looks?"

They all started talking about Tristan. They all recalled how he came to the ball, invited of course, and how all the ladies went there in their best hoping to impress him. They were chattering so fast but I couldn't hear a word they were saying. I was too busy in my thoughts.

I stared at all three of them. Smitten? Almost all? Infatuation? How Tristan managed to snare the hearts of many ladies was something I simply couldn't fathom! He was handsome, but surely there was more to him to them than just looks. And he couldn't have possibly spoken with each of the ladies personally. Or had he? After all, I had heard that women threw their feet all over him wherever he went. He was still seventeen! But how could Tristan, the ultimate antagonist of my childhood past, be stored in the hearts of so many ladies? Well, I had been forgetting some conclusions that happened in Ayortha. He was no longer a prankster. He was intelligent, witty, funny…  And I did cherish my moments with. His company was something I had anticipated, as well enjoyed. Fine…then he did possess qualities that could make a lady swoon. Fine.

"—and Amara just had to make us all envious when she was fancied by him!" one of them said. It didn't register in my mine who said it. Rather, it was the person mentioned.

"What?" I hissed. Amara! The wench clutching Tristan's arm as if it were her life support? I didn't know why I simply despised the girl. She was just too perfect by my standards. And the way she explicitly stated through her actions that she loved Tristan with all her heart. And how she seduced him with her swaying derriere… There, I had admitted it to my consciousness: I hated Amara. I knew I was feeling hatred for her, the reason behind it—I had no idea at all.

Their attention was on me, their eyes bigger than before.

"What?" they echoed.

I shook my head. "Amara. Being the fancy of Tristan?"

The probably noted my casual use of his first name. I could already hear their minds thinking, She's close to His Royal Highness Prince Tristan!! Oh how I wish I could trade places with her! Well damn them all. Tristan! Tristan, for crying out loud!

Admit it, you dummy. Tristan is one of the most eligible bachelors. Even if he is still seventeen…

Sofia was quick to jump on the gossip. "You see, we all wanted to impress Prince Tristan, he being so handsome. But at the end of the ball, we realized that it was Amara, our old friend—" she was proud to say it, "—was the one who did catch his attention. I'll wager they are both in Ayortha now, having a wonderful time."

Lorena sighed wistfully. "Amara could make a wonderful queen."

"Oh yes they were in Ayortha together," I told them dryly. "But he's told me that they were only friends."

Sofia shook her head. "I assure you, they aren't just friends. After the ball, Tristan attended the weekly ball whenever he could. That is, when he was near Kyrria. And he danced more dances with Amara than any other lady. We counted," she confided.

"That lying…" I began to mumble. But I stopped myself. Why should I get so emotionally unstable just because Tristan lied to me?

"Oh. So he's not coming to any weekly balls? Thank goodness. And I had met Amara. Tristan introduced her to me."

Lorena's eyes lit. "Well, he introduced her to you! Surely that means something!"

"I don't want to spoil your joy but he introduced Amara to me as a friend. And when I asked him if she was his beau, he told me to get lost." My grandiloquence was totally eradicated now. Watching my words was not really a habit of mine.

Sofia frowned. "That's peculiar. Maybe he doesn't want anybody to know."

"But his actions towards her during the ball were explicit and obvious. He likes Amara, if not love," I said, surprising myself with the bitterness in my voice. "It wouldn't matter if he didn't want anybody to know. His acts to her show the truth. If he hid it, it would be futile. No, he doesn't care if anybody knew. He cared if I knew."

Lorena laughed. "Whyever should Prince Tristan do so?"

"You don't know?" I asked them in feigned shock. "And I thought our intense animosity is famous." Their already wide eyes were wider. Was it even possible? And they kept on widening their eyes. Was this the only expression of surprise according to protocol? "His affections for another lady would just provide me with another avenue to…blister his hide."

"Hated him?" Gianna managed to ask in a lilting and incredulous voice.

"I didn't think that was humanly possible," Sofia gasped, horror escaping ever word.

"How could you hate such a perfect man?" Lorena added melodramatically.

Perfect man! If I could only bite this nitwit's head off…

Calm down, Catleya. Do not take your annoyance out on the innocent people.

I rolled my eyes at their overreaction. I mean, hating a man, no matter how perfect they were, was humanly possible. Besides, Tristan was far, far away from perfection. "To put it simply, he wasn't a perfect man when we were still children. He was the perfect imp. Now, we do get along splendidly, but we still tease each other." I grinned. "It's not that bad and certainly it was humanly possible. Although, I must admit that the Tristan now is a long way from that whelp from my past."

I swore they all gave a collective sigh.

"Well, that settles it. But you are so fortunate, Catleya," Sofia sighed. "Prince Tristan is someone I really do want to meet. We did talk but not much."

Lorena grinned. "It's all Amara's fault!"

They all started chattering again. Mainly about Amara's utter fortuity. I didn't grasp much on their conversation. I didn't care who Amara was, I just knew that she was more than Tristan's friend. It made sense to me. Amara was beautiful, vivacious by the looks of her, and talented. Surely she was talented in the piano. She could even be the best student in Wistria. Why, it shouldn't be a surprise to me that she was Tristan's lover. All day long, I could count all the virtues she could possess. What was I compared to her? She was absolutely lovely and she had all the makings of a refined lady. Unlike me who was probably the most out of placed princess in all of history.

Mother never had this kind of problem; of course, she was Queen Ella, the Court Linguist, and the Great. She was born to be who she was, different and unique. She wasn't expected to be soft-spoken or graceful. Because she wasn't born royalty. She had every excuse to be who she was because no one expected her to be someone. Whilst I had to be in a different circumstance. I was born a princess, and I had no excuse to be who I wanted to be. Because they all thought that living with it for all your life meant that you would be accustomed to it, that eventually, you would bred into someone they wanted. Mother never had to fill anybody's shoes, while I had to. Everyone saw me as the daughter of the oh so great monarchs and the sister of the oh so admirable prince. They had preceded me with their deeds, and those deeds just took the attention of many. They saw how great they were, and were foreseeing greatness to the one next in line.

"Ladies!"

It was Lady Ophelia. I snapped out of my thoughts and glanced at the faculty circle. All the teachers had stopped talking and had shut their books close. They were all standing up. The other girls apparently knew what the matter was. They all stopped whatever they were doing, and stood up.

Beside me, Gianna groaned. "Leisure time is over. Now we have to go to our lessons."

"You have a lot to catch up on, Catleya," Sofia informed. "Our curriculum for today is on sewing. We're all making our own handkerchiefs with our own designs. Our Sewing and Embroidery Mistress, Lady Constance, is rather strict. She is only satisfied with the tiniest and tidiest of stitches. And she would rip your project apart if she saw a lot of knots."

I stared at her, disbelievingly. "Isn't that a bit harsh?"

Lorena nodded. "It is." Her voice was not the least bit intimidated. In fact, she said it as if I was a real idiot for not believing. "It's the price to become a lady. Sometimes, we have to endure such harshness to be molded."

We went inside the halls of Wistria again. Inside, we were led to the large Sewing Room. As usual it was in the color of some wisteria flower. This time it was not purple, but a light shade of pink. The wide windows were open, letting in the fresh air. There were about fifty individual walnut tables and chairs. Lorena gestured a place next to the windows. Sofia sat next to it, then Gianna, and then Lorena. I sat beside her, not caring whether or not I would be left out. As I sat down, I noticed that there were drawers on the tables. I opened it, and inside were all sorts of things. There were shiny metal needles of all sizes, and threads in every shade possible. There were about three different kinds of shears, pin cushions poked with pins with multicolored heads, chalk, needle threaders, and beeswax. There was also some drawing paper and a pencil, which use, I had yet to know. I was already slightly aware of how sewing worked. You put thread through the needle and pierce the cloth with it. Simple as that. Or so I thought.

Though I did have teachers back in Kyrria, the things that were taught were actually relevant things. By relevant, I meant things that actually could make an impact to one's life, and not some silly hobby. And not too be conceited, but I was a princess, and princesses only sewed for leisure. But apparently, I didn't even want to sew so I didn't ask for a sewing teacher. I didn't think my knowledge in that was crucial. But maybe I really just didn't like to acquaint myself with this. I had demanded for a music and dance teacher—and I didn't actually need that to be a princess. Fine, then I really disliked sewing. And while all these relevant subjects were stored in my mind—history, philosophy, arts, languages, literature, and the like—I was completely dumbfounded with all the things found in the drawer.

Why do you need three different kinds of shears for sewing? You just needed to cut the fabric, for crying out loud! The mundane paper-cutting scissor could just be used! And all these needles! I had assumed that you could only use one needle while sewing… But the different sizes surely meant something. Bigger needles meant bigger holes and surely, no one would like that…

How ironic. I prided myself to have a bank of knowledge, yet I didn't know the first thing about sewing or embroidery. So how was I going to make a handkerchief?

Sofia, Gianna, and Lorena had already taken out their handkerchiefs. They were able to do it a few days ago, and they were right that I had to catch up. But I really didn't know how!

I didn't want to ask Lorena about it. She looked apt in sewing. I decided to swallow my courage and ask the Sewing Mistress. If she would come.

An old lady entered the room. She was well beyond her youthful years, and it showed through her wrinkly skin and skinny arms. She was also statuesque, which only made her resemble a pole. Her graying hair was on a tight bun behind her, giving her the impression of a stern and cold spinster—which I honestly think she was. Her beady eyes behind spectacles surveyed the room, making sure that all the ladies had their sewing out and were starting. She spotted one who was still chatting noisily with her seatmate. She focused all her attention there.

A whisper. "You better take out your sewing," the girl next to me advised.

I looked at her. Her skin was tanned and even, so different from my pale tone. Her hair was dark and in a solitary braid down her back. She was smiling at me, and I didn't doubt the genuineness of it. Her hazel eyes were bright with laughter. She bent her head to make a tiny stitch on her handkerchief. The design was principal on yellow roses.

I admitted, "I don't have any yet."

She nodded. "Oh yes. I remember now that you are a new student. I'm Elysia, but you can call me Ely." She glanced at the Sewing Mistress who was scrutinizing another handkerchief. "It's best that you wait for Lady Constance to come to you. She hates assertive ladies."

She hated assertive ladies? Oh dear…then I could already adumbrate her antagonism towards me.

 "I'm Catleya," I said. Then I bit my lip. "Is it true that Lady Constance rips apart any project she finds monstrous?"

Ely giggled but quietly. "That's ridiculous. She keeps on threatening us she will do it if she finds our projects disgusting. And so far, no one wants to attest to that challenge. The only problem with her is that she would continuously badger you if she isn't satisfied. Although she is quite nice, if you get under her good graces. A feat which is next to impossible, come to think of it."

I smiled at her. Ely glanced again at Lady Constance. She was now coming our way. When she did see that, Ely immediately bent down her head and sewed. But before that, she gave me a wink.

Lady Constance glowered at me. "What do we have here? Where is your sewing?"

"I am new here, Madame," I answered. "And I am yet to start my sewing. It's just that I wish for your instruction before I proceed."

This was a fancy way of saying "I am as addled as an ox, so you better tell me what to do!"

The Sewing Mistress's antagonism was lessened by a tad bit. "Oh." She left me and got something from her own drawer. She returned with a square of white cotton fabric.

"You will use this for making the handkerchief." She showed me the cloth.

I stared at it. It was square and measured half my arm. "This is for a handkerchief?" I blurted out before I could bite my tongue. It was big enough for a scarf!

Lady Constance ignored it. "Yes it is for making a handkerchief. You fold the edges by one inch to make a hem. Seal it using the short walking stitch. Then, make your own pattern and sew it on the handkerchief. I expect the patterns to be feminine. The final result should tidy, with back stitches or running stitches for the outline and satin stitches or fill stitches for the main coloring of your handkerchief. When you finish your handkerchief, you shall proceed on making a pillowcase, like what the other girls had already started."

She left me. She must have assumed that I knew what walking stitches were…or back stitches…or satin stitches… I gulped. I really didn't know a thing about embroidery or sewing.

Ely noticed my chagrin. She giggled. "That's alright. Lady Constance always assumes that every single girl knew embroidery already. She keeps on forgetting why ladies come here, that is, to learn how to embroider. Don't worry. I'll help you."

During the whole period, Ely taught me all the stitches necessary for the project. They were quite easy, by the looks of it. I was certain that I would get the hang of it sooner or later. She handed me a needle with thread already, and I proceeded with the hem. While we did our work, she told stories on some of the teachers. They all made me laugh, because I didn't think they had such an interesting history.

"Our Singing Mistress, Lady Murielle, has this fixation with looking young, although she is already in her late fifties. Her hair is the color of darkest ebony, but that is just an overdose of hair dye."

"How do you know all this—ow!" I had stabbed myself with the needle. I was yet to begin and now my finger had a tiny spot of blood.

Ely shook her head. "How many times already?"

"This is the second time," I grimaced.

She grinned. "Once, a girl who had been here two years ago stabbed herself too many times during sewing that her projects all had spots of blood."

"I'll make sure that won't happen again," I answered with a smile.

Ely nodded. "Now, Lady Quenby, our Dancing Mistress—"

"She dances?"

"Yes. Well, she is a splendid dancer but she's very sore on dancing with male partners. That's why she never dances during our weekly ball. Only scrutinizes us if we learned properly in her lessons."

"Why?"

"I heard that a man had once danced with her, but only accomplished making her toes very sore. Apparently, she had the idea that all men dance that way."

Lady Constance was suddenly beside me. "Oh my dear," she gasped and glanced at my work. "What have you done??" she chided. "So many knots…crooked lines…large gaps!"

I didn't say anything.

"What happened, Catleya?" she demanded rather hotly.

I decided to answer at the most truthful way possible. "I sewed."

"Sewed?!" Lady Constance's voice was gripped with such agony and incredulity that she made me feel like I was a tragedy to the sewing culture. This is not sewing! This is vandalizing a perfectly good-looking square of cloth! You have tarnished its surface, defaced its natural beauty—"

Well what was I to say? I didn't know a thing about sewing, and I had Ely to thank for teaching me, a job she should have been doing!

Lady Constance revived from her horror. She was fanning herself with her hand, as if she really couldn't believe I was incompetent in sewing. Girls had glanced up from their sewing and were looking at us quizzically.

"I expect a better output next class. After all, I had heard from the finishing school mistresses of Jenn that your mother had lovely stitches—neat, tiny, straight, and certainly without knots! You should be more like your mother, from what I've heard."

When she turned her back, I glared at her. I was not my mother, and I would most certainly not show Lady Constance that I could sew, even if eventually I might learn. If she expected me to be the mirror of my mother in finishing school, then she was wrong! Then and there, I decided that I would make the messiest stitches possible, just to irk her. That would show her that I was not Queen Ella, but Catleya, the girl who did not do well in sewing.

The needle found my skin again.

~*~

I found out that Ely was from Bast, a town near the Elves' Forest. She was the third member of her family to go to Wistria. So far, she had enjoyed her stay. She told me that Wistria was not all bad, that I shouldn't have such negative thoughts about it. She said that at first she did feel the same way, but she realized that the more she hated the place, the more the place hated her. "Wistria would be more unbearable if you make it to be," she told me.

I enjoyed Ely's company. But after sewing, Sofia, Gianna, and Lorena dragged me to them again.

I thought dinner would be uneventful, until I was informed that Manners Class was conjoined with mealtimes. And Manners Class was rather eventful. We should all act accordingly. I knew protocol like the back of my hand, not because I cared, but because it was required of me. Aside from Kyrrian protocol, I knew Ayorthaian, Elfin, Gnomic, Keneisan and some other kind of protocol. It would be a great insult to both kingdoms if a monarch acted improperly during a visit.

Lady Juliana was our Manners Mistress. Her hair was brown and her eyes were a mesmerizing gray. She was a beautiful lady, but her attitude was as cold as she was lovely. She brought with her a sense of superiority that could make us just shut up. She was one of those ladies that I knew I shouldn't test. I had planned to act accordingly, so I could practice at the real moments. Different kinds of protocol for each particular kingdom or race. The last thing I needed to do was to disgrace my kingdom with boorish manner in front of the monarchs of another kingdom.

I was seated next to Ely this time. Sofia, Gianna, and Lorena had seated themselves next to the Manners Mistress. I had declined sitting next to her, wary as I was with her strictness. The three of them wanted to brag their spectacular behavior to her. Not I, so I just seated myself next to Ely. At least she was not so sappy as them.

The first thing served was a salad. "Put your napkins on your lap, ladies, the King would be ashamed of you if you don't," Lady Juliana instructed as when the salad was served by maids.

"Actually, he wouldn't care less" I replied without thinking. That was my first stupid move.

Lady Juliana glared at me. Ely glanced at me, warning in her eyes.

"Well, he really wouldn't do care less," I replied sheepishly.

"Eat your salad," she snapped.

I rolled my eyes when she was not looking. Ely shook her head. I noticed the three girls smiling. I acted accordingly of course, until she mentioned that I should be like my father, who followed protocol even while he was asleep. Her tone of voice challenged me to argue with her, but I didn't. Father was mannered, but while asleep? And why did she always invoke him? She kept on glancing at me every single time she used Father, Mother, or Owen as particular invocations. She was daring me to correct her. And I so wished I could. Mother did not have a spoon for every mouth of wild rice. Father did not use a different spoon for specific types of cherries.

I had suppressed all urges to debate with Lady Juliana about my family. I couldn't pretty much contain my laughter because it was all so ridiculous. My family was not so fanciful with dinnerware! I told Ely all this, and she just shook her head.

"Lady Juliana used to invoke you too, but I guess it would be useless, considering you would be here to demonstrate," she teased.

"Over my dead body."

When dinner was about to be concluded with dessert, I congratulated myself for only being lippy once. But my congratulations were too soon.

The dessert was vanilla cake, topped with cream and icing. I took the small fork to my left and started eating. The cake was very delicious, thought no where in comparison with Mandy's but I enjoyed it nonetheless. My savoring experience was interrupted with Lady Juliana's voice reprimanding us.

"Turn up the corners of your lips into a small smile while chewing your cake, although don't open your mouth," she said. "If you do, our Prince Owen would propose to you on the spot."

There were giggles and blushes, and I soon saw all of them smiling as they chewed their cake. Ely's lips were smiling, but I highly doubted she believed this.

But I was already choking but this time, so I couldn't really observe them. Owen? My brother Owen dropping down on one knee to propose to a girl because she was smiling while chewing cake?

"What?" I asked incredulously. "You are greatly mistaken, Lady Juliana, to think that my brother would only be smitten to distraction by a rather jovial looking mastication. I mean, the other invocations were tolerable and rather funny, but this one is downright outrageous!!" I laughed out loud.

Lady Juliana glared at me again. "No breakfast for you, Catleya."

That didn't register in my mind too well.

"You are depriving me of daily nutrients because I just pointed out the obvious wrong?" I demanded.

Yes, that was incredibly and unbelievably stupid of me. This day was probably one of the days I had completely lost my faculties and wits.

"Don't fight her, Catleya," Ely mumbled.

"You are not permitted to speak unless called upon. No lunch."

"But—"

 "If you want to keep your dinner, I suggest you not speak at all."

I swallowed my tongue along with a forkful of vanilla cake. I was not crazy, and I would most certainly not risk my dinner! But inside, I was a torrent of emotions. Corporal punishment was abusive! Especially when food was concerned. One simply could not just take away a daily necessity. And I was angry with this not because I was forced into it, but because people actually suffer. What if I had gotten a stomach worm because of this? What if I died because of this? But what was I to do? I was not a princess here, and I have no intention to be. They would tell me; anyway, that entrance to Wistria would mean punishment when needed. I was fully aware of these kinds of punishments. How many ladies had already starved to insanity only because they were displaying assertiveness?

As I was chewing cake, I heard a girl sneer, "Look at her, pretty princess. Couldn't believe that she would not eat. It's all her fault, now her spoiled royal arse cannot believe what had happened. Now she would call upon the king to save her."

Yes, it was my entire fault, but I couldn't believe it not because I was a spoiled brat! How dare she! That wench! I searched in vain on who that girl was, and noticed Sofia leaning at Lorena, whispering. Lorena was glancing at me, a condemning gleam in her eyes. Gianna was giggling. When they saw my eyes on them, they straightened up, and gave me all sympathetic smiles.

When I told Owen I would be surrounded by the sugar-coated giggles of the snide harpies, I didn't know I was putting a curse on myself.

~*~

There! Nice LONG chapter!! (",) Yes!! I have conquered the writer's block!! And I now have plans for the next chapter!!! Yipee!!! But sadly, it would come up after a long time. Too busy. I mean it. And I'm still fresh from defeat . And I'm failing CHEMISTRY!!! ARGH!!!! I JUST GOT THE DREADED FRIGGIN' WHITE SLIP THAT TELLS YOUR PARENTS "YOU DAUGHTER IS DOING UNSATISFACTORILY IN HER CHEMISTRY STUDIES"!!! Now how in the world am I going to let them know?? Ohki…gonna stop ranting now………………………………………..

THANKS SO MUCH TO THE REVIEWERS!!! LOVE YA ALL!!! And thanks to those who read this fic… sorry I don't get to reply to your messages .

This chapter is dedicated to Ms. Ponce, the sewing teacher in my school. Yes, Miss, I still remember your reaction when I passed my sewing project. I will never forget your glasses-magnified He eyes becoming even larger when you saw my "sewing" if you consider such grotesqueness sewing.... And yes, the experience of Catleya in this chapter is in fact, based on the true to life experience of yours truly. Hehehe, I am a terrible sewer, and I swore, I thought my teacher would cry on my ugly project…

I posted a new story by the way. Here's the summary. It's the story I ...posted last chapter. I figured to just get it over it and post it.

Preferring wit and intelligence over beauty and grace, Alva lived a life that consisted of books and learning—and she was happy with that. But an unlikely meeting fueled the flames of envy and hatred, starting an inferno she would have to face.