The bathwater had long been cold, but Genevieve still sat, scrubbing her skin raw. Behind her, Colette, her lady's maid, combed her long sandy hair gently, adding a few drops of perfumed oil to the wet strands.
"Are you ready to dry off, my lady? You're to meet the prince in an hour."
"Hm? Oh yes. Thank you Colette."
She stood and allowed Colette to wrap her in a towel, pulling the warm fabric around her shoulders. Colette delicately squeezed the moisture out of Genevieve's hair, before leaving the washroom briefly to fetch a dressing gown.
As Colette curled and pinned her hair elaborately, Genevieve rubbed a few drops of rose oil to her wrists and neck.
"And you still want to wear the yellow gown, yes?"
"Yes, and a black ribbon around my neck."
Colette wrinkled her nose. "Black, miss? There's no black in the gown. Would the Italian lace ribbon not be better?"
"You're right, it's the green one that has black detailing. Italian lace is better."
Colette nodded and smiled at her in the mirror as she powdered her hair. Colette had been her lady's maid since Genevieve was twelve and deemed old enough to have one, which allowed Colette to contradict her instructions.
"Do the other servants here say anything about the prince?"
"The Greek you've taught me isn't taking, my lady. I just pantomime everything I've had to ask them."
"Of course, I forgot."
"Did you think the servants would speak French?" Colette giggled.
"I must've!" Genevieve laughed.
"Alright, what do you think of your hair? I could add some flowers if you like."
"Let's leave it like it is."
"I agree."
She dressed, gave herself a once-over in the mirror, and headed out to meet the prince. Isabella was standing outside her door, fussing with her sash.
"Oh good! Are you ready?"
"Of course, are you?"
"Of course! Did you see the flowers the maids put in my hair? I think they're from the garden, but I don't speak Greek, so I didn't know what they said. They're called louloúdi though, I did hear that."
"That just means flower, Isa."
"Oh. Louloúdi. Loo-loo-dee. That's quite fun to say, don't you think? Louloúdi, louloúdi, louloúdi. . ."
This continued until they reached the same parlour they had been received in yesterday. Genevieve spotted Queen Danielle and the three princesses watching the king nervously.
King Peter was tucked in a corner of the room, speaking to a handsome young man in angry hushed tones, who she assumed was Prince Antonio. Genevieve guessed this little spat had something to do with the young blonde woman who was holding the prince's hand and looking about the room as though she had never seen anything like it before. Perhaps a mistress he was being forced to give up? Genevieve would have to tell him that just because her parents were monogamous did not mean she expected the same from him. She approached them warily, giving her ample opportunity to overhear what they said.
"My lord, I promise, had I known she would be here today-"
"You knew, Antonio. You were informed of the date of her arrival months before you left, and I recall ordering you to return by two days ago!"
"I apologise, sir I simply-"
"Got caught up in a fantasy? Unfortunately for you, you are the crown prince, not some sailor who can marry any girl he finds in the ocean who happens to catch his fancy. You cannot break your betrothal!"
He wanted to cast her aside? She was Dauphine of Palladia for God's sake, not some common knight's daughter.
"Your Majesty, I assure you, I would not be doing that. I would be honouring a previous betrothal."
That stopped Genevieve in her tracks.
"Your Highness? What betrothal do you speak of? I am only aware of the one with Italia."
"I was first betrothed to your sister, Rosella." he turned to the girl at his side, squeezing her hand gently and whispering, "Ro, I promise, just speak to her and she'll believe you."
Genevieve finally got a good look at her. Long blonde hair, about her age, a little taller than her mother. There was definitely a resemblance between this girl and Anneliese, especially in the eyes and nose. She could see how someone might think. . .no.
She addressed her, taking on the haughtiest facial expression she could muster, "You claim to be my sister?"
She almost felt guilty, watching the girl look back at Prince Antonio with terrified eyes, then back at her.
"I- I'm not claiming anything, Your Highness. I just, I've been on an island for a number of years, and I don't remember anything about my family or where I came from, and Antonio- Prince Antonio, that is- told me I bear a great deal of resemblance to my-your mother." her expression took on something different, almost maternal. "This must be very painful to talk about. I know I would be just as sceptical as you are if a strange woman showed up to my island claiming to be my mother and she came to take me home."
"You clearly weren't very sceptical when a strange man showed up to your island claiming to be your fiance."
She looked down at her right shoulder to hide a chuckle, and Genevieve forced herself not to think about how her father does the same thing. The girl was playing with her hands too, crossing her pinky under her ring finger over and over, like Isabella does when she has to recite a sonnet.
"If you truly don't believe I'm your sister, then I suppose you would know better than Antonio or I do. I'm sorry." she bobbed a quick curtsy, then turned and left the room.
Antonio looked at her with a mix of anger and confusion, then walked up to her, bowing and putting his lips to her knuckles.
"It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Princess Genevieve. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go after your sister."
And then he, too, left the room.