A/N: I know I take forever to update, which has probably put me into all of your bad books, but please forgive me. School is horrible, and although high school is probably ten times worse, seventh grade is bad too. (Yes, I'm only twelve. And in seventh grade only.) School is probably the most used of all excuses ever, but it's true! Anyway, I can't find the time and patience (I'm hazardously low on that these days, even when I've been born with only one-fourth of natural patience to begin with.) to write labeled, tidy little individual notes to everyone (and bolded too! ::has a conniption::), fun though it is. Maybe on a good day but... again, I've no patience.
Thank you for enduring my heated ramblings, and now enjoy this chapter, if you can. And review, if you've forgotten.
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Chapter 4: Teasing
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For the rest of the afternoon, I had secluded myself into a cozy corner of the library, having changed into a dark gown and having convinced Elaine to satisfy herself only with braiding the first few strands of my hair, although she fought valiantly for an elaborate five-strand braid. Throwing myself into a squashy armchair by the fire, I spent the time devoutly reading through several thick novels, some romance, some drama, and some adventure. I had been the only one in my circle of Gypsy friends to have a hobby with literature, with my hot blooded temper and my iron will. Only reading could calm me in my worst moods.
All day I remained like this, and for a good chunk of the next day as well. I skipped breakfast, although Eder snuck me some porridge from the kitchens and Elaine managed to send me some a tiny bowl of honeyed seedcake. The two rapidly became my friends; Eder would come into my room and cheer me with her jokes and stories and Elaine would sneak me admirable things and would entertain me with gossip. Surprisingly, she knew at least one secret of every servant in the castle.
There was even a day when Elaine's placid, aqua eyes lit up a bit from excitement.
In the library, I had managed to read up to half of a disgustingly dramatic romance before Eder and Elaine slipped into the near-empty library and hastily found my little hiding spot. Both seemed a bit miffed. My first guess was a new bout of lords and ladies that would never stop demanding, no matter how accurately the directions were followed. Those were the previous circumstances, anyway.
"Rozenta!" Eder called, Elaine right behind her. They pulled some armchairs close to mine and started whispering feverishly, though undoubtedly angry. Even Elaine seemed a bit ruffled, although her eyes could've been from a painting.
"Will you believe it, Elaine?" Eder snapped. Elaine nodded angrily, clenching her jaw and staring icily at me, though I was not the source of her irritation. Eder continued ranting, barely aware of my presence.
"Marguerite has no right to do that! Ordering us around and making us call her queen – !"
"She has no right, Eder, and she isn't even officially betrothed to the prince!"
I gagged, my story forgotten. Who was this Marguerite and how was she betrothed to the prince?
"Who?" I asked blankly. Eder and Elaine's flowing speeches cut off abruptly and they blinked, as though finally noticing I was here. They exchanged looks, and Eder sighed, a heavy sound of an exhaustion's doing. She seemed tired and worn, and Elaine took a deep breath too and let it out in a small, fluttery sigh. Her eyes, beautiful but cool, seemed sad and full of fatigue, expressionless though they were.
"Lady Marguerite Birigne de Maurine, possible betrothed of Prince Clement and an absolute pain in the arse," Eder heaved, gritting her teeth. I was a bit startled; although Eder was certainly expressive, she had never publicly denounced a lady or lord, and Elaine was similar. These two, however, spoke of her as though they would love nothing more than to see her flung into a pit of tar.
"And who is she? You speak of her as you would a spoiled courtier."
"Well," Elaine began, smoothing her skirts and resuming her usual self-possessed stance, her aqua eyes once again taking up the unreadable form. "Lady Marguerite is the daughter of Lord Giovon, trainer of Prince Clement. Lord Giovon is an excellent man, kind and strong and easy, though I have no idea what happened to Lady Marguerite. She is downright spoiled to the core. She's always been a favorite of King Ignatius for the betrothed of Prince Clement, though it's never been officially decided. Prince Clement has to agree to it first -"
Eder snorted loudly, saying derisively, "If he does, I'll wring his neck." I laughed and Elaine smiled, mumbling "As would I," before continuing.
"King Ignatius adores her for reasons most unimaginable, but Queen Egeria can see right through her and knows Marguerite doesn't care a sixpence for Prince Clement's personality and well-being so long as he is rich and royalty. She keeps telling him never to agree, and that's the reason the delay for the betrothal has lasted most of his life. If he does agree, Queen Egeria will be forced to as well and then Marguerite will become our... queen." The last word was emphasized delicately. Elaine's eyes immediately hardened into ice chips of turquoise and Eder growled in an undertone.
"How is this Marguerite wench like?" I inquired curiously, my novel completely forgotten now. Eder scoffed and Elaine frowned, and I knew instantly neither would flower Marguerite's name.
"Spoiled. Demanding. Stupid. She is blonde, blue-eyed, and quite pretty, but do not let that fool you. She is devious and backstabbing and she simpers a lot and giggles in this painfully high-pitched voice. It's like bringing a knife down a jagged, metal surface. She is nice to your face and abuses you verbally behind your back, and thinks everyone must bow down to her."
"Do us all a favor, Rozenta," Eder pleaded with me, "and do not oblige to any of Marguerite's whims. At all. Do not bring her wine, do not curtsy for her, and do not compliment her. Make her miserable. We will defend you all the way."
I nodded, completely unwilling to please Marguerite in any way possible. She sounded like an overgrown brat to me, and I enjoyed nothing more than giving brats what they deserved. This Marguerite wouldn't feel like the queen of the world after meeting me. After all, I could be anyone's nightmare if I put my mind to it. It was not difficult.
Elaine and Eder smiled approvingly and went off to their chores, which they had skirted whenever they could to see me. They were extremely behind on them and I did not stop them as they hurried off. I was left in the library to my novel, which I couldn't finish with much gusto anymore, and nearly fell asleep when a group of people swept imperiously into the library.
Hearing the heavy, silver-plated door creak open and a few voices, I started out of my drowse and sank into my armchair, flipping to my page in the book. After successfully navigating the page, I looked up.
A pretty, golden-haired girl swept into the library, blinking her blue eyes at everything and raising her chin unreasonably high. At her heels was a tall, lean young man of dark hair and eye and looking possibly to be roughly about the age of 20. And behind him, Prince Clement sauntered in, looking disgruntled.
My face darkened. What did they want now? Because I certainly recognized the pretty blonde whose attitude was too conceited to not be who I thought her to be.
Lady Marguerite sniffed and strode over to me, looking disdainfully haughty. Upon spotting Clement, she had strode over to him and clung as tightly as a snake upon his arm. This irked him, as his face revealed. Walking towards me, she simpered and extended the back of her insipid hand in front of my nose.
I was bemused. I stared at the ring-festooned hand and raised my eyebrows. Did she want me to kiss it or bow over it? Because I would certainly do nothing of the like.
She coughed pointedly, wiggling her fingers. I smothered a laugh.
"Well," she said in a wispy, oily voice, withdrawing her hand with evident displeasure. "I did not expect anyone to reach my standards of being of well breeding, except of course for my Clemmie!"
This knocked a laugh out of me. Prince Clement was glowering and glaring daggers at Marguerite, and then he glowered a bit at me. This did not affect me in any way, even if they all were of nobility. Only Prince Clement could sentence me to death, and Miss Marguerite could do nothing. In fact, I decided to push it a bit.
"Oh, Clemmie, you two would make the loveliest couple," I said sweetly, sarcastically batting my long eyelashes. He made a face. Marguerite, on the other hand, noticed nothing and giggled haughtily at me, pulling on Clement's arm.
"Marguerite, what have I told you?" Clement said angrily, pulling his arm loose. Marguerite trilled another shrill laugh and pulled his arm captive yet again. This time Clement did not try to stop her, but he certainly did not look happy.
"Lady Rozenta," Marguerite began, under the common impression that I was Clement's royal noblewoman guest from a faraway country. "Please, you simply must accompany us for lunch. Your presence is so – what is the word?" Clement mouthed something vulgar before Marguerite remembered. "Oh yes! Enlightening. And you must meet Bedivere," she added, gesturing to the dark-eyed lad who had been quiet so far. He nodded in greeting, smiling vaguely.
"Thank you, but I'm afraid I cannot –" I was just about to decline the invitation before Clement made a violent gesture, indicating that I must accept. I refrained from making a corresponding gesture that was just as violent and rephrased what I was about to say.
"Thank you for the invitation, and I am sure I will accept," I said loudly, narrowing my eyes at Clement. He grinned, taking great amusement from my pain.
"Oh, how delightful! I am sure I will enjoy being your friend! You seem so fun! And you must call me 'Guerite, it's such a sweet name! Now Clemmie and I must go. He still has to introduce me to the other guests, especially the one from Kione! If I must be queen, then I must meet then! Till midday!" She giggled and steered Clement out of the library, chattering endlessly on the way out. Clement only groaned and moaned and said nothing intelligible.
I would've returned to my novel but Bedivere was still there, watching me thoughtfully. I sat down with grace and waited for him to take a seat. He did, and we spoke.
He was quite handsome, I must admit. As a Gypsy, I had no plans to flirt with any nobles, but he was only interested in conversation and that suited me just fine.
"Marguerite is quite fluttery. Are you her brother?" I asked him. He shook his head, seeming terrified at the thought.
"Over my rotting corpse, I am. But no. I am not from her country, but from Merilian. I am one of the knights' son, Sir Byron. What country do you come from?"
This required some quick thinking. I was certainly no noblewoman and could barely be called a "royal guest", but I did know some countries. Still, I made one up, seeing as they could travel to a city and ask about me, and get no desired answer.
"Elysia," I said promptly. I had taken the name of a country in a Gypsy story from the top of my head, but Bedivere showed no signs of disbelief. He nodded and said, "I have never been there. What is it like?"
Again, quick thinking. However, before I knew what I was doing, stories of my Gypsy camp were spilling from my mouth, unchecked but not mentioning any relations to the Gypsies, lest my cover would be blown.
"We are a fun-loving people, and the nobles are barely treated any differently from a mere commoner. Not in wealth means, I mean, but in ways of respect, and society is easy. We sit with nobles for dinner and gossip about the people in the next cam- um, house." I smiled toothily to hide my mistake. For some reason unknown to me, Bedivere laughed. His laugh was deep and low and smooth. The sound was so pleasing to the ears, like Clement's voice.
"I'd like that," he said, grinning. "It is quite hard to talk to someone when they're falling over themselves curtsying and bowing, especially as a knight's son. I intend to become a knight one day, so I might as well get used to the publicity that comes with it. Most of the time, the peasants are scared out of their bones of us, or else they hate us to the core."
"I don't believe that. Not with you. You're too nice."
"Well, not all of them know me personally."
Our conversation progressed like that. We talked about nobles, the injustice of arranged marriages, how the court should truly be (under this category did we share the most similar ideas), and I even tested my luck far enough to mention Gypsies. He told me about Lieron and laughed with me about the joking, witty Gypsy Lieron had always been. We verbally attacked Marguerite and probably criticized all of the royal guests (or at least, all the ones I met so far) and praised the servants for their honesty and wholesomeness.
With each and every word, I grew to like him more.
We did not do so much as look up when Clement entered the library, seemingly relieved to be out of Lady Marguerite's company but generally seeming tired. He sat in an armchair not far from us and observed us as we eagerly discussed the ways of the world.
I only felt aware of his presence when his steady gaze came to rest on me. His dark blue eyes seemed to take note of every aspect of my face, my hair, and occasionally my body. I tried to ignore him, however, but his study was hard to not notice. I felt the back of my neck heat up every time I thought about his gaze, but I refrained from showing it by fidgeting. My relief was beyond words when his gaze left me.
Prince Clement said nothing at all during the conversation. When Bedivere finally admitted that he had better take his leave, he seemed to hesitate with a sort of mental conflict. Then, unexpectedly, he leaned down and swiftly kissed me on the cheek.
I just stood there, surprised and witless, and then flushed. He smiled sheepishly and hurried off.
"Wasn't that pleasant, having a knight's son flirt with you?" Prince Clement teased, although I could hear a note of bitterness in his voice. It miffed me. If he was angry because we paid him no attention, then that just proved how spoiled that prince was.
"He's not a flirt," I said indignantly, heat rising to my face. I knew I was blushing again, uncomfortably this time.
Just as unexpectedly as the kiss, Clement took my hand and led me out of the library. Outraged, I tried to wrench my hand away and yelled a couple of angry obscenities, but he pulled out of the library with success.
When we were in the guests' hallway, he finally let go of my hand and laughed. I glared at him and punched him in the stomach. His laugh was cut off by a winded grunt, but he was still smirking.
"Harassment, Gypsy," he wheezed, amused. "I could have you beheaded in a second."
"I'd rather myself beheaded than manhandled by you."
"Are you sure about that?" he said with mock formality. Another, much harder punch sent him groaning.
"Positive." I snapped before stalking off into my chambers. When I took a glance back, he was still laughing, though still clutching his stomach.
My mind was racing, my blood still rushing from Bedivere's kiss. The heat once again made it to my face, but this time with delight. Once secured safely in my room, I sank into my bed, taking in the day's events.
While I was still deep in contemplations about Bedivere, my hand still felt Clement's own hand against it, still remembering the warmth. Somehow, this memory made my stomach writhe with more vigor.
If I had just known what would result from that day's complications, maybe I would've stopped it.
A/N: Bedivere is a cool guy, so please don't flame him, even if our "Rozenta" fits with Clement like a puzzle piece. There are a few things I want to get out straight before anyone interprets anything wrong:
1 – Prince Clement is certainly spoiled, but he had other reasons to be "miffed" upon the end of Rozenta and Bedivere's conversation.
2 – Answer to Areinha: Sorry about the Frances thing! Fine, I won't name anything Hurricane Frances, but Frances is good. I have a good friend named Frances anyway. But she (Areinha) brings up a good point about Eszti's point of view. Clement certainly is arrogant and irritating, but in her head Eszti exaggerates about him. She is just being stubborn and that's why we love her :D
3 – I'm sorry that the relationship between Eszti and Bedivere is going so fast, but I will not write a six-year's worth of visits and subtle hints of flirting. This will just have to be one of those really fast relationships, to fit my convenience.
4 – Prince Clement is not in love with Eszti... so far. ::grins evilly:: He is simply used to gaining attention from the pretty ladies (since he is very handsome) and Eszti is not giving him the sort of attention that fits his preference. However, I must say that Eszti's looks and admirable personality make her quite desirable (if you exclude her fiery temper and hardheadedness).
And... I think that's it. ::shrugs::
So review!
