03

The rest of the night passed by in a blur. I talked to many people that knew my parents, often about possible marriage arrangements. My sister danced with many suitors, all interested in marrying her. But it was mostly for show. My mother and father were already working with King Henry to marry Alice off to Prince William.

I watched William dance with other women, who were all way better dancers than I. He moved gracefully, spinning the women around, catching them, dipping them. Each woman he danced with seemed to be more beautiful than the last, and I found it rather daunting. He'd asked to meet with me, but I couldn't even compare with most of these women.

All of them were more graceful and coordinated than I. Most of them were taller, with more curves, and bigger breasts, pushed up by their unbearably tight bodices.

He danced with women all night, acting pleasant, chatting with them as they danced. I couldn't hear what he said, but often he would make them blush, or laugh.

He even danced with Alice. She was an exceptional dancer, a much more suitable partner for William. Though it made me want to curl into myself and hide at the fact that he danced with me and then her. What he must think of me now.

I took a goblet of wine from one of the proffered trays a steward held and drank greedily, as though I could drown my thoughts.

I did not dance with anyone else that night. I didn't want to embarrass myself any more than I already had. Most men would probably not be quite so kind about my dancing. Men did come up to me and offer a dance, but I would politely refuse, and stay in my little corner in the shadows.

The night went on and I got tired, waiting for it to be over. I felt a tap on my arm. "Erika, are you even listening to me?" Alice demanded, crossing her arms in an impatient manner.

I hadn't even known she was next to me, let alone speaking to me. But she did not wait for my reply, before she continued.

"We're leaving. The carriage is waiting out front." She said, before turning and walking back through the crowd to the doors. I followed after her, down the hallway, down the front steps, and climbed into the carriage.

Mother was already sitting and waiting. As soon as the door to the carriage was shut, she turned to Alice. "Well? How was your dance with the prince?"

"It was nice." Alice said, smiling, her cheeks tinged with pink.

"Surely it was more than just nice." My mother said impatiently.

"We didn't really have much time to get to know each other. It was only one dance," explained Alice, in an attempt to placate Mother.

She nodded slowly. "Well, His Majesty and I were talking about setting up a meeting where you and Prince William will have more time with each other."

Alice wrinkled her nose—something she did when she found something unfavorable. "A meeting? You make it sound like a business affair. Father goes to meetings all the time."

Mother pressed her lips together, but said nothing.

I let out a quiet breath, watching the land slide by in the darkness as the carriage was carried away from the palace and toward our estate.

When we got back to the house, I was tired of my mother and Alice's conversation on marriage arrangements and Prince William. They talked about both subjects so much I almost felt like I was the one marrying him.

I went to my room, kicking off my shoes, and tossing my book onto my bed. Agnes was in my room a moment later, helping me unlace my gown. It was so tight I was surprised she didn't have to cut it off me.

I had outlines in my skin where the bodice had been digging into my hips and back. I put on a silk nightgown, relishing the soft, loose feeling of the material, before climbing into bed. Sleep did not come easily that night. My mind was very busy, and it kept wandering back to the prince.

I awoke late the next morning to someone rapping on my door. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and yawned. "Who is it?" I called groggily, already knowing the answer.

"It's Agnes, Miss." Agnes answered, her voice muffled through the door.

"Come in," I said, sitting up in bed and rubbing eyes once more. I got out of bed and shivered, as it was cold in my room because the fire had gone out during the night. My toes curled away from the icy marble floor beneath my feet.

She entered my room, followed by a small group of girls carrying a copper wash tub. They set the tub down and went to work heating buckets of water and pouring them into the bath. After several long minutes, I was brought over. One of the younger girls, Mathilde, who was about my age, perhaps a little younger, helped me undress and I climbed into the bath.

The water was warm and I sat there for a moment, relishing the heat of the water against my skin. One of the girls washed my hair, while the other scrubbed my skin. Once they finished, I got out of the bath and dried off and Agnes dressed me in a simple lavender gown with long, tight sleeves and a square neckline.

She braided my hair back and pinned it up into a bun. I thanked her and she only smiled at me and then left, followed by the other girls.

I walked down the stairs to the kitchen to break my fast. Workers ran around the kitchens trying to get their jobs done. It was especially warm in here because of the fire in the oven. When I was little, in the winter, I would frequently hide in the kitchen next to the oven and take a nap when I was supposed to be at my lessons. And there was something kind of comforting about the smell of baking bread and spices.

Chef Louis smiled at me over the counter, where he was kneading dough. "Good morning, Erika." He said cheerily.

"Good morning, Louis." I replied as he handed me a tray with a loaf of bread and soft cheese, berries, and a small bowl of porridge. I could never actually finish all of the food, but he always gave me extra anyways.

I ate my food on a small wooden table inside the kitchen, watching people work. It was loud: people shouting orders, workers running around . . . It always surprised me that no one could hear what went on in the kitchen throughout the house.

After I'd eaten, I went upstairs to the library, where my tutor was waiting for me. Her name was Miss Grimoult, and I absolutely loathed her. She was a shrewish old lady, with wrinkly hands, who kept her gray hair always perfect in a tight bun, showing off her severe face, with sharp cheekbones and a hooked nose. There was a pair of spectacles perched on her nose, and I always wondered if she could really see through them or if they were just for show. She looked just like that as she droned on and on about the War of Sierre that went on in Orvale in 1612.

I was nearly bored to death as she went over each lesson, first history, then arithmetic, then reading and grammar, then languages, then more history (it was her favorite subject).

The lessons seemed to last so much longer than usual. I stopped listening about halfway through, letting my mind wander. I would occasionally glance at my pocket watch, willing time to move faster.

Finally, Miss Grimoult ceased her constant jabbering and released me. After muttering a quick, not-so-sincere thank you, I hurried out the door.

I went to my room and put on a pair of satin slippers, and grabbed a pouch of coins before heading to the door. I put my hand on the door handle, and before I could do anything else, I was stopped at my mother's voice. "Where are you going?" She asked, a note of contempt lacing her words.

I paused and turned to face her, where she stood in the door to the parlor, not quite sure what to say. I couldn't just tell her I was going to meet my sister's future fiancé. "I'm going to the market." I said quickly.

"We have people for that, you know." She said, sounding incredulous.

"I know that, Mother. I'm not going to do their jobs. I just needed something, so I thought I would go get it myself." I pulled open the door wider.

"Alright," she replied, narrowing her keen eyes at me. I had a feeling she didn't exactly believe my lie. "Be back by dinner."