A/N: Sorry it took so long to update! School, again... my geography teacher thinks it's funny to give us project after project after project and that made us want nothing more than to see her shrink and to have the chance to just step on her. Yeah. But here it is, and that's all that matters... right?
PS – I've no time to answer all reviews individually, but email me if you want a personal response (which I highly doubt you'd do, considering how long I'd take to reply)... and be sure to read/review :-)
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Chapter 3: Breakfast Squabbles
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Eder prodded me and berated me to get off my bed and to meet Prince Clement, but I lay glued permanently to my temporary bed sheets. They gave more promise than any of Prince Clement's subjects ever could, comforted me in their own way. I didn't look at Eder as she stood by the door, feet apart and firmly in place, fists on hips, chin raised slightly, and warm brown eyes ablaze. Had I not been too busy drowsing and swearing incessantly under my breath, I would've wondered if this woman had ever lived one part of her life as a royal. The way she expressed her indignity and irritation certainly made it seem so.
"Milady, his Highness does not expect you to dawdle. What would he say if he came up here and saw you lazing on your bed, sprawled like that, after all he's done for you? Don't say you'd be without shame!"
"Oh, Eder, I do not care what Prince Clement thinks."
"You do not care? Sincerely? Well dear, you'd be saying different if he hauls you before the council and orders your head on a silver platter."
"He wouldn't dare."
"Still, you cannot spend the entire day moping!"
"I can too."
Eyes flashing, Eder's mouth snapped open to release another set of scolding words, but she did not have time to say anything. The door creaked open and in came a petite girl with the biggest, prettiest hazel eyes. She looked barely 10. Her presence surprised both Eder and myself.
Recognizing a tense moment, she bit her lip nervously and trembled, her big eyes bulging in surprise. Pretty as they were, they seemed tragic. I suspected that she spent more than one night crying in her blankets.
"Lady Rozenta, his Majesty requests your company for breakfast after you've dressed. He will not take 'no' for an answer," she said timidly.
Eder nodded with a maternal air, smiling fondly at the young girl. "Thank you, Marcella. Also, bring up Elaine to help Lady Rozenta dress, if she has the time. If she is not available, please bring Priscilla."
"Is Prince Clement dining alone?" I asked her anxiously, feeling no particular desire to confront the queen and king after attempting to steal a horse. Then again, Prince Clement probably wouldn't have mentioned it to them, but I feared I'd give myself away anyway.
Marcella nodded. "King Ignatius and Queen Egeria have gone traveling to the kingdom of Kione, leaving Prince Clement to rule for the summer. He is a good prince and has brought Merilian good fortune."
I could've snorted in disbelief, but held it with a noblewoman's dignity. Of course, Marcella would've found it peculiar for a Gypsy to take up a noblewoman's attitude, but I was being sardonic. We were never that stiff and formal.
All I said was, "Well. Hmm. I suppose."
Eder eyed me warily, though I stayed silent. Marcella noticed nothing and stepped lightly out of my chamber, having done her duty and looking for this Elaine I was hearing about. The instant the door clicked close, Eder spoke, with a disapproving tone.
"Prince Clement is not so bad. Arrogant, yes, but he does not let it affect his decisions. Overall, he is a good man."
"I doubt that. If he had any heart at all, I'd be in my Gypsy camp. Why he wanted to keep me here locked up I do not know. I am of no use in any political dispute, and I absolutely refuse to take up the role of a Gypsy representative."
"Do not speak of him so! He is a good prince, though a bit stubborn and confident. When left to his own devices, he keeps the country in prosperous conditions! Despite how much he smirked, Rozenta dear, he gave you a noble's room in place of a prison cell!"
Clenching my jaw, I said nothing. That much was true, at least, but his smirking infuriated me to no end.
The door slipped open again, letting in a beautiful, slender, red-haired woman. She wore an expression of ultimate serenity, with only her lips curved slightly up with a contented look. Nothing else in her face expressed emotion.
"Lady Elaine," Eder greeted with a deep nod. Elaine returned it, smiling a smile that – oddly, since she seemed a pleasant woman – did not reach her eyes. It seemed that no emotion could reach her eyes: not joy, sadness, anger, or surprise.
Her tranquil gaze switched to me and she smiled a bit wider in greeting. I nodded lightly to return it.
"Lazy Rozenta..." Elaine said. Her voice had a dreamy, vague quality that intrigued me. "I am so pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Lady Elaine, the beautician for the royal guests. Little Marcella found me a bit earlier and said that you needed me. May I inquire the occasion?"
"Simply to meet Prince Clement for breakfast," Eder answered. This did not perturb Elaine. She nodded in understanding and seemingly glided to my wardrobe.
While scrutinizing my gowns and not looking at anything else, she spoke conversationally to Eder. I listened intently, knowing they wouldn't mind.
"How is Marcella doing, Eder? Is she eating now?"
"I guess so. I asked Cook Brinya and she seems to think so. But she still seems a little sad, doesn't she?"
"Sad is an understatement, Eder. I spoke to maid Sonya a few days back and she told me that she had heard Marcella weeping in her room. The poor dear... I did not expect King Ignatius to simply take her as a servant. It is not her fault Leanne died."
The two fell silent and a tense moment of quiet followed. I sat upright on my bed, staring at the two in turns. Eder's face had sadness written all over it. Elaine's was an unreadable mask, though it seemed to bear a stony expression, one of sadness as well. Finally, Elaine sighed, her eyes still not seeming to match her emotions.
"Poor dear. We all miss Leanne, but no one has the right to hand the blame to Marcella. Leanne had a good heart, and a heart of gold when it came to her daughter. I doubt the royals know what Marcella is going through, having the blame of her mother's death on her and having to spend the rest of her life a servant."
Eder nodded in solemn agreement. "They've no right, but we've not much opportunity to say it. Marcella will heal with time, and perhaps progress through the servants' ranks. You never know."
A vague smile touched Elaine's lips, and her lips only. "Yes, we never would know with these things." To me, she said, "Come, Lady, and see what you'd like to wear. You must look suitable in Prince Clement's presence."
I slipped off my bed and came to the wardrobe, eyeing them all carefully. Elaine pulled out a pink dress, a blue dress, a green dress, and a gold dress. She laid them individually on the bed and stood back, gazing at each in thought.
"The gold is too gaudy for a breakfast," she said with finality. I nodded and examined the midnight blue one.
"This too is too formal. For a ball, perhaps, it'd be perfect, but not for a breakfast."
Eventually, we peacefully compromised on the green one, which was a forest green threaded with gold. After dressing, Lady Elaine explained it her duty to also do my hair, which she found very much to her liking. My hair was long and wavy and thick and silky soft, as well as dark as coal. She enjoyed working with my hair and I saw the result in the mirror with gratitude and admiration.
She had done my hair into a solitary braid, plaited with gold links. I had seldom done braids in the Gypsy camp, since we loved our hair loose, and none of our rare braids were as excellent as the one Elaine did. I beamed in satisfaction.
"Thank you." I said gratefully, patting the top of my braid gently.
"Thank you, Lady. You can call on me as often as you like, so long as it is not petty. This is your first breakfast as a royal guest, so you must look impressive. And you do. Come, let us meet Prince Clement."
Eder escorted me into the dining hall, where I saw Prince Clement idly eating breakfast with an open book perched on a water jug. I did not curtsy, but immediately sat into a chair two seats from his Royal Highness. He did not look up at my entrance and kept his eyes on his book. My pointed cough, too, was ignored.
Miffed, I spoke irately, not caring if he'd take it against me.
"Excuse me, Prince."
He looked up and greeted me with an idle smirk, taking an apple from the breakfast basket and passing it to me. I took it with caution and piled various foods onto my golden plate.
"Good morning, Rozenta. Did you think of me at all last night?"
I nearly choked on my bite of apple. Coughing with my hand firmly over my mouth, I glared at him through my eyelashes, setting down my apple and swiftly taking a deep gulp of juice.
"Think of you? Did I have to?"
"I just thought that you would, considering how I wouldn't let you go."
"Well, I did imagine your death in many ways, but none that seem likely to happen." I narrowed my eyes darkly, my full lips twisted into a frown.
He laughed, for some unimaginable reason, just sat back and let out a rich, youthful laugh that was pleasing to the ears. I frowned deeper, wondering what in Merilian's name he found entertaining. Perhaps I was wittier than all those fluttery court ladies he would flirt with at balls, but it was not my place to criticize their intelligence.
"Pray tell, what did you imagine?" he asked when his laugh ended. I stared at him in wonder. Normally anyone would've been slightly insulted and would've retorted in a similar manner, or else coldly ignored me. No one would extend the comment further by asking in detail how I imagined their death.
Miffed again, I spoke without enthusiasm.
"Firstly, I imagined you drowning in the lake with your knights laughing on the shore, not to mention myself. What say you to that?"
He grinned broadly, enjoying my irritated declarations.
"That is certainly unlikely. Trained personally by Lord Giovon, who I must say is an excellent swimmer, I had excelled in swimming. I wouldn't drown in a common lake."
How I would've loved to say, "Oh, so his Royal Highness must have his own royal lake in which to drown?"! I wrinkled my nose and rolled my eyes. Yes, I know, very unwise in front of royalty. But Prince Clement said nothing, still grinning like a madman with that smirk still on his face, his book still propped open on the water jug.
"I imagined you being beat in a duel."
"Impossible. Lord Giovon taught me and I am invincible."
His grin widened. I scoffed. Such bold words... I had never seen him fence before and now I eagerly wished to see him go against the greatest knight in all the kingdom. If he'd lose.
"Then I imagined you being poisoned."
I expected a derisive leer, but his face darkened and he scowled. His scowl did not match his grinning, mischievous sort of look. Worried that I offended royalty, I looked away.
After a tense, stretching moment, he spoke. His voice was tight and curt and oddly formal. In his lighthearted voice, the sharp contrasting effect almost made me shiver. It did not seem that he spoke so seriously so often.
"Do you know, Rozenta, that I could prosecute and behead you for saying something so deadly to the royal family? Poison is not taken lightly. What you said could almost pass off as a threat."
He sat stiff in his seat now, as though it were a throne, and watched serenely as I paled considerably. Beheaded? Threat? Poison? Beheaded? Suddenly, I fell into a daze and my entire body felt numb with panic.
Just as suddenly, he dropped his serious manner and let out a bark-like laugh, his face brightening. If I still weren't in a daze, I would glowered and thrown something at him to make him quiet. Then again, if I weren't in a daze and if he wasn't royalty.
"You should've seen the look on your face," he barked, still chortling. I flushed and narrowed my eyes angrily.
"Excuse me, your Majesty, but I didn't know you had the audacity to be so prankish, being trained by the court and nobles and all." I spoke with a sardonic, syrupy voice that dripped with sarcasm and disgust. He responded brightly, having finished laughing but still grinning infuriatingly. If he wasn't royalty, I'd have taken a handful of his dark hair and snatched it out from the roots. He irritated me so.
"Please, call me Clement. And yes, I've been trained by lords and nobles, but no, I do not care to play their stiff game of lies. If you don't mind, I'd rather show the world my true personality, and this is it."
I bit back my biting remark about his personality (So I suppose you think irritating, rude, and immature would make a better impression?), which I knew would upset him for sure, and I continued eating in silence. Prince Clement said nothing else, and the meal progressed in that silent manner.
Breakfast was far from simple, even with only two servings: the main course and the side dishes. For the side dishes, a surly looking butler strode in precariously carrying a great bowl of caraway seeds, apricots, and plums all lightly covered in cream and honey – according to Prince Clement, this delicacy, megnigna, was trademark to Merilian – while another butler brought in a tray of kuchen, German coffeecakes. For the main dishes, a maid brought in a tray of croustade, stacks of oatcakes, and a great bowl of plain cottage pudding. I was surprised with all the richness for a solitary breakfast meal, and I only made a face when Prince Clement laughingly stated that breakfast was the most important meal of the day.
We Gypsies were used to the simple wine, veal, rye bread, vegetable stews, seedcakes, and perhaps pudding on a day of celebration. I had never seen so many rich foods in my life. I ate happily, making no effort to even start conversation and lose precious minutes of eating.
"You know, Clement," I said after forcing down a fourth kuchen – they were surprisingly good. "You eat richer foods everyday than my fellow Gypsies have probably imagined, and yet no one makes an effort to feed those who've gone hungry. This could feed them for days." I dug my spoon a third time into the bowl of megnigna and while waiting for his answer, my spoon found its way into the cottage pudding for a second time.
He looked up from his book, thoughtful, and took a sip of juice. As I ate, now attempting to make myself seem tidier under his gaze, he surveyed me, lost in thought. I could practically see the wheels working from the side of his head, and probably hear them too. I finished my cottage pudding lightly and met his gaze, steady and unwavering.
His personable face was serious, his cobalt blue eyes calculating and thoughtful. I could make nothing out of it. I looked down at my petite bowl of megnigna and stirred my cottage pudding idly with my silver spoon, watching the thin, sweet seeds popping in and out of the thick, snowy layer of dessert.
"You're right," he said seriously, though not in his previous ominous way. Rather, he was deep in thought. "I've always tried telling Father he should have a representative with a peasant's perspective. He will not listen; but he'd strain his ears for Lord Dirwyll's advice, and he states that easy food would be bad for the economy. He believes that people must work for anything free and that once you give something without taking, people become accustomed to it and become spoiled. He believes that, but I do not." The last he added slightly to himself, his gazing wandering from mine and down into his bowl. The poise almost made him look innocent.
"Dirwyll believes that? How can he? I don't see him having to work hard for a living," I fumed, outraged. He could say no such things without having been in the situation in the first place! "Someone must speak out!"
"And you have," Clement said seriously, nodding deeply at me. "Which is why you'd be a good peasant's representative. I really thought you'd be useless, but I guess I am wrong."
I stared at him, my spoon sagging uselessly into the pudding, all thoughts of finishing breakfast gone. Representative? Me? I was barely 16, and most certainly inexperienced. Nothing I could say could be supported by any concrete experiences of my own. The job was not suitable for me.
"No!" I exclaimed, glaring. My temper flared. I knew they'd find a way to use me, prisoner though I was, and I could've kicked myself for not thinking on the possibility. He grinned, the roguish light now returning to his face. I clenched my jaw and glared daggers. If looks could kill, he'd have been burnt out of existence.
"I knew you'd say that. The Gypsies need you, and the peasants need you. You're probably the most strong-willed Gypsy that I've ever met."
"I'm most certainly the only Gypsy you've ever met long enough to learn her personality."
"Actually, no. I once had a Gypsy friend, Lieron. I treated him like a lord, and he treated me like an everyday friend. Perhaps you've met him?"
Again, I was surprised. Lieron Dairin had been in a spot of trouble with the Merilian royals once, but he returned happy and fresh and rich. I wondered if I'd ever return to my Gypsy camp happy and carefree. The possibility was still so close, yet so far.
"Yes, I have," I said quietly.
"Good. You understand me. So you will speak to my father upon his return about representing your Gypsy camp?"
"No!" I half-yelled, rising swiftly from my chair and stalking like an angry cat out of the breakfast room. He did not try to stop me, and said nothing at all.
Before closing the heavy, gilded doors, I chanced a glance back. Prince Clement had returned to his book as though nothing had happened, the exact image of how he was upon my arrival, excluding the exuberant meals scattered on the table.
He was wrong. I'd never understand him at all.
A/N: Wow, I wrote a lot... it wasn't supposed to be this long and I was supposed to have another event but 11 pages is more than enough for one chapter. The ending was dramatic anyway so I left it alone :) I have a handful of nifty notes for 'A Gypsy's Tale' anyways, so I'm not complaining. Although not much really happened, it opens up a chunk of the story (I think) so no flaming. I don't like flaming.
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