Chapter 11: Springti
2 May, 1358. Magdaline Castle, Islia
Prince William stepped through the doors leading into the Moraigthian princess’s presence chamber that morning, ready to escort her to the waiting king. He was half expecting to see her perched on the window seat, still defiant and unwashed in her tattered gown. She seed like the type of wench stubborn enough to ignore the advice he’d given her the day before.
He sighed and geared himself up for another quarrel. He wouldn’t even have any ti to argue with her - King Edward hated it when his guests were late.
What he saw instead when he looked around the room was even more shocking to him.
Princess Camilla was sitting quietly in an armchair by the window, eyes downcast as a maid stood behind her and brushed out her hair. The maids all blushed when the prince entered the presence chamber, scurrying to bow low to him.
Camilla raised her eyes and upon seeing him, also stood and bowed. She then returned to her seat and listlessly gestured to the maid to continue brushing her hair.
William could only gape wordlessly at her. She had clearly heard and followed his advice to approach the king looking like a royal princess and not a beggar. All traces of dust and gri had been scrubbed away.
She was wearing a pale green dress, the colour of adow grass and of springti itself. The green flattered her wavy dark hair and radiant fair skin that was tinged with the palest of warm golds.
Camilla glanced up at him again through her long lashes and his thoughts imdiately scattered. Her face was a perfect, delicate oval with wide dark eyes, high cheekbones, a flawless complexion and a rosy, heart shaped mouth. William struggled to form any words at all, feeling like he’d just taken a blow to the head.
"You’re gor- I an...your gown is odd." he blurted out. As soon as he heard himself speak, he cringed inwardly. Oh my lord. Did he really just say that out loud?
It was true that the princess’s gown didn’t have the elaborate puffed and embroidered upper sleeves that were in fashion at the Islian court. Instead, the sleeves fit tightly until they reached her elbows, where they flared out like trailing bells. The bodice of her gown wasn’t adorned with the panels of lace and fur trim that Islian ladies were so fond of, either. The green gown was smooth simple silk which clung to her body and showed off a firm, full bosom, tiny waist and slim rounded hips.
"I’m sorry you find it odd, but this is how I’ve always dressed. I don’t think the local style of dressing suits
very well." she said with a shrug.
Have rcy and just kill
now, William thought to himself. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands, suddenly feeling parched with a strange thirst.
He slowly dragged his eyes back to her face and swallowed hard when he realised the princess was now staring back at him, her eyebrows arched in puzzlent. He tried to respond but his tongue felt frozen.
Camilla tipped her head slightly to the side, wondering if her gown really offended him that much. Would King Edward be equally offended by her choice? Perhaps he would.
She couldn’t really find it in her heart to care.
"You told
I needed to charm the king, did you not?" Camilla deadpanned. "I’m afraid this is as charming as I get, Your Highness."
The maids glanced at each other, looking horrified at the pert response from the foreign girl. Had she no respect?
William blinked at her repeatedly. He knew he was supposed to say sothing to her. But what the hell was he supposed to be saying?
The silence stretched out awkwardly.
"Is the king waiting for
already? I suppose I mustn’t keep him waiting any longer, lest he decides to chop my head off." The princess finally said, rising from her seat and smoothing down her skirt.
"But my lady!" exclaid the most senior of the maids. "You are not ready to leave yet. Surely Your Grace doesn’t intend to present herself before the king in this state?"
Camilla looked down her gown in confusion. "Why not? Is sothing missing?"
The maid heaved a great sigh and then spoke slowly as if she were addressing a child or an imbecile. "The noble ladies of our court braid their hair into loops next to their faces and then cover their heads with a gauze veil and a circlet. Surely Your Grace has noticed our custom?"
"Oh yes." Camilla’s response sounded indifferent. "But King Edward knows very well that I am a foreigner. A barbarian, even. He won’t expect much from ." The princess grabbed a length of white silk ribbon from a side table piled high with veils, circlets and hair pins. She used the ribbon to deftly tie her hair up, leaving the ends to cascade down her back in glossy waves.
Camilla moved towards the doors, ignoring the aghast faces of the maids. "Lead the way, my lord." she said to the prince.
William held the door open and watched her glide past him in a daze, unsure whether to be impressed or outraged by her stubbornness.
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