A/N: Thanks again for your reviews and likes. It's always nice to see if people are enjoying something you're writing. I promise the romance will be heating up in the next few chapters.

Chapter 3

Adelia had no more encounters with boys for the next two days. She tried to put herself in the position to meet Francis on his own but she was constantly being led to sit ins where girls of the court were being taught writing or embroidery. Adelia had forgotten just how much she hated life at court. This was the type of stuff she did when she visited her aunt and uncle in the Spanish court. She was bored when she did it there and she was bored when she did it here.

She did form a friendship with Ashyln, the shy girl that had been introduced the same day as Adelia. The girl was quiet and didn't talk much but that was what Adelia liked about her. They could sit in silence or Ashlyn would listen to Adelia complain about how bored she was. Or listen to her complain about Zoe.

Zoe, the Austrian girl who had also been introduced on their day, was a royal pain in the ass. She was politeness and sunshine around all the supervising nobles and adults but cruelty personified behind their backs. Adeline had found Zoe on the second day smacking Ashlyn for not answering a question the older girl had asked. When Zoe went to strike the girl a second time Adeline had grabbed Zoe's wrist to stop her.

"Don't touch her!" Adeline said.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Zoe yanked her wrist out of Adeline's grip. "She won't answer my question. She needs to be taught respect."

Adeline frowned. "She is of noble blood, just as you are. Ladies don't smack people to gain respect. They use their words."

Zoe shoved her face in Adeline's. "Fear earns respect, you twit. Touch me again and you'll be sorry."

Adeline had dealt with her share of bullies in the Spanish court. Because she was a little shorter than average and had a pretty face people assumed she would cow to their threats and attempts at diminishing her. Adeline put her hands on her hips and didn't back down. "You are a guest in the French court, as is Ashyln, as am I. What, pray tell, do you think you will do to 'make me sorry'?"

Zoe took a step back but the fire didn't die from her eyes. "You've crossed the wrong noble Adelia de Bargas. Watch your back." Zoe stomped off, being sure she had the last word.

This incident had cemented Ashlyn and Adelia's friendship. Right now they were sitting on a small couch, embroidering flowers on tablecloths, and watching as Zoe made their instructor laugh. Zoe was surrounded by girls on all sides, the center of attention, and glowing with the admiration showered upon her. Her smile lit up the room. And it was one hundred percent fake.

"Why can't they see that she's an imposter?" Ashlyn whispered. Ashlyn rarely spoke any louder if she spoke at all.

"Because she's a good liar. She's been doing this a while. And she's beautiful." Adelia sighed. "People tend to overlook details when someone is beautiful. They want her to be good so therefore they believe it. How could someone so lovely be bad?"

"She's not bad," Ashlyn corrected her. "She's pure evil."

Adeline nodded. She continued her embroidery only half paying attention. She was trying to ignore Zoe and think of a way to meet the prince that wasn't completely obvious that she was trying to meet him. Not paying attention had dire consequences. She stabbed herself hard with her needle.

"Ah! Ow!" She jumped up, dropping the cloth and holding her finger. It was a little needle but the poke was deep and painful. She heard giggles coming from Zoe's end of the room.

The instructor came over to look at the wound. She looked at Adeline as though she were a simpleton. "Never have I seen someone prick themselves this bad. You need to have that cleansed and bandaged or it will fester. Off to the infirmary with you." Adeline was ushered out of the room with instructions on how to head toward the healer's quarters.

Adeline walked swiftly, holding her injured finger in her non-injured hand. She felt like an idiot. Who hurt themselves embroidering? It wasn't even a good injury, just a pin prick that hurt like hell and was bleeding all over her hand.

She was in such a hurry that she didn't notice the person coming around the corner until she ran into him. The jarring meeting sent fire into her hand from her wound and she couldn't help but squeal in pain. The person had run into her injured hand. There was no way he wasn't going to have her blood on his tunic.

It was a nice tunic. It was black leather, studded in gold crisscrosses, and soft as butter. She started uttering apologies until she looked up into eyes the color of the sea. Words died on her lips. "My prince," she stuttered, fumbling into a curtsey.

He grabbed her gently by the arm to keep her from kneeling. "It's ok," he told her. "I am not injured. But it looks like you may be."

She blinked at him a few times. Her head was slow in processing what was going on. Her opportunity was presenting itself and Francis was touching her arm. Yet she had run into him because she was on her way to the infirmary because she had stupidly made herself bleed with a needle. She felt like now would be a good time to die. "I hurt myself." she said.

"Yes, I see that," he smiled at her, motioning toward the blood on her hand with his free hand. "Are you off to see the healer?"

"I don't want it to fester." Words seemed foreign to her. She was having a hard time forming coherent thoughts. Francis was being very patient with her.

"No, no you don't." He agreed. "I will lead you the rest of the way. We're close." He took her arm and gently escorted her down the hallway he had just come from.

It took another moment for Adelia to get her thoughts in order. "I'm sorry to bother you, my prince-"

"Francis. Please, don't call me prince. Francis is fine." he insisted.

"Francis," Adeline smiled at him. "I'm a little in shock from seeing you in the hallway."

He looked at her with amusement. "I live here. Why wouldn't I be in the hallway?"

"It's a big castle. I didn't expect to run into you," she amended.

"I'm trying to avoid my guards today. I wanted a little fresh air without someone breathing down my neck." Francis told her. She thought about what Bash had said about the guards on the king's children.

"Well then, you should be off. While you can." Adelia said. "I can make it on my own."

He flashed her a charming grin. "You are a damsel in distress. It is my duty to help you."

"I don't know about distress," she grinned back. "But I supposed I could use the help."

They reached a large wooden door and Francis pushed his way in without knocking. It was a typical infirmary with two empty cots and tables covered in powders and vials. The room was empty. Francis shook his head.

"This is why I came. Our healer isn't always reliably here. My mother uses him for council. But no worries." Francis went to one of the tables and pulled out a drawer. "I think I can fix you up."

She walked over to stand next to him. He pulled out a vial of clear liquid, a wash cloth, and some bandaging material. He took her over to a wash basin and rinsed her hand off thoroughly with the water in the jug next to it. He then examined her finger closely. The first thing she noticed was that his touch didn't stir feelings in her like Bash's did. She tried not to think about it.

"This is your injury?" He held her finger up to her own face so she could look at it. It was pathetically small. "All that blood came from this little hole?" A drop of blood was beginning to form again.

She shrugged at him. "It may be small but it is painful." After a beat she added, "And I may have just wanted out of embroidery lessons."

Francis laughed out loud at her words. "You stabbed yourself with a needle to get out of lessons?" He shook his head with amusement. "I like you," he grinned.

She found herself grinning back at him, not correcting him. It had been an accident but she also hadn't want to attend the lesson. She let him cleanse her finger with the liquid from the vile, wincing when it burned. He gently bandaged her finger with surprisingly nimble fingers.

"There, all set." He let her take her hand back.

He had wrapped the bandage material around her finger so many times it made her finger three times bigger than it normally was. "That's a big bandage."

He shrugged. "I don't want you bleeding again. And," he looked around to make sure they were alone before he whispered, "I'm not really a healer."

She dropped her voice to match his conspiratorial tone. "That's ok, I won't tell." They both grinned before standing up to leave the room. In the hallway again she found the prince quite chatty. He asked her about her stay at the castle and what she missed about home. He was surprisingly easy to talk to and didn't seem haughty or condescending.

"I think we should attend the festival tomorrow. You can be my guest." He said as they reached the fork in the hallway that would take them in separate directions.

"My prince-Francis," she was surprised at his sudden suggestion.

"If you want to. I would like to get to know those in my court better." He looked at her sweetly with his sky blue eyes. "I would like to get to know you better."

This was what her father wanted. This was what she was here for. Yet she felt her heart sink as she replied with forced enthusiasm, "Of course. We should go to the festival together tomorrow. I look forward to it."

He smiled at her, a charming smile. He took her injured hand and kissed the back of it. Then he spun on his heel, walking away from her, leaving her wondering why this victory was tasting so bitter sweet.

A/N: Awww Francis. So sweet. Take a second to review my story if you would like me to continue. Tell me who you're a fan of for Mary. Are you team Mash or Frary?