Chapter three

"Stop biting your nails." Preza enters my room, followed by Tincar. I put my hand down, only to feel my nervousness grow with each passing second. The sun rose an hour ago; I know this because I watched it rise over the mountains. I couldn't sleep well last night after everything that happened yesterday.

"The king is a boy—14 or so. And it seems he's the one who chose this marriage. His family despises me before they even meet me. Who would choose to marry that young?" I burst out. "The king is that young?" Tincar asks. "Yes, I just said that." I snap. "It's just surprising. I guess he is in desperate need of a stronger political footing. You know how much influence you gain by marrying a de Pastara sister." "She is aware of her use as a political tool. Stop being mean," Preza scolds her husband. I ignore the flood of emotions that rush in and quickly speak. "It's fine. However, the king and his family also seem to dislike Posha. We need to start working on a plan to get you four out of here." "Four? Are you thinking of kicking out your six-year-old daughter and loyal friends?" Preza looks upset again. "I cannot escape this fate, but I can make sure Kitaja never has to follow in my footsteps and endure such hate.

Besides, the world is too unsafe. I need you to stay by her side until she can live on her own." I try to look strong while saying this. Preza and Tincar ponder what I'm saying. "So you will be left alone here?" Tincar asks after a moment. "It's not like I can never leave the palace. We just need to figure out a region in the kingdom where the people don't hate Posha so much. There, I can buy a residence for Kitaja and you and visit once in a while."

"Why not send her back to Posha?" Mucala says from the doorframe. "Are you crazy? How would she ever be able to see her mother again?" Preza snarls. "It makes sense, though. At least she wouldn't be an outsider for the rest of her life." "She was an outsider there as well. She's half Verdanian, remember? Here, there are more mixed people than back home," Tincar reasons. "You hit the nail on the head. It is home," Mucala says sadly.

"I understand that you miss Posha. But please, Mucala, I cannot send my daughter so far away from me. When she turns 16, I will give her a choice of where to live. Until then, I want her close." "Come on, it's only ten years. And I heard there are some beautiful regions in Gritina. Let's go visit them together," Preza tries to convince Mucala. Mucala is a free spirit, at peace most in nature. Before she can answer, Tincar crosses his arms. "Then it is decided. You three will travel around the kingdom in the coming year while Genevieve and I stay in the castle," "Don't you want to decide where you live?" Mucala asks. "As long as my wife likes it, I don't mind. Besides, people will be too frightened seeing a tall Posha man like me. You girls traveling around is safer." "You are so sweet. And correct, as always." Preza starts kissing Tincar behind his left ear. "Stop. You can slobber all over each other in your bedroom. Also, please remember not to be too affectionate in public. The people of Gritina are more conservative than those in Posha." I side-eye them. Preza huffs, and Tincar looks away. Knowing they will not listen anyway, I turn to Mucala. "The king will send a couple of tutors for Kitaja today for her to choose from. He was displeased with her knowing so little Gritz." I roll my eyes. "Like she would know any after being here for just four hours." "Why do you know Gritz so well, actually? You've been here just as long," Mucala asks. "It's similar to Verdanian," I reply, keeping to myself that my father forced my sisters and me to learn all the important languages of the continent in case we were to marry into one of these countries. Sayings this would only sour the mood again. Mucala seems to buy it. "I'm going back. Kitaja will wake up soon. I will have her dressed for breakfast." "Thank you!" I say just before she closes the door. She still doesn't look too happy about my decision of having Kitaja stay in Gritina for 10 years, but I think I convinced her.

"After choosing a tutor, my soon-to-be mother and sister-in-law will probably show me around or something. Oh, and the wedding is in two days. I should ask for a tailor..." "Go back a couple of steps. The wedding is so soon?" "I'm sure they intended it to be a grand event, as they want to showcase their new prize to the kingdom. I will have to dress the part. So will you, by the way." I keep rambling. "Gen! Calm down," Preza almost screams. "Why is the wedding so soon?" "Oh, I expected this a little bit. I also got married to Picus a day after arriving in Posha." "Why didn't you tell us that?" "I figured you knew. What's the use of a political fiancée if you can have a political wife?" Preza and Tincar don't seem to understand what I'm saying. I sigh. "Look at the time. I should call for Hubert to make arrangements for the tailor. Wait here." I open the door to see Sisi and Daisy standing there, waiting. I'm guessing Mindy is off doing something. "Good morning, ladies. Could you ask Hubert to call for a tailor today?" "Good morning, Princess Genevieve. The tailor is already on his way. He will be here after breakfast." "Wonderful! Please let me know in advance next time." I try not to sound too snippy, but I can't help it. They should have told me I had an appointment in advance. "My apologies. We were told to keep it a surprise unless you asked for it yourself." So I was being tested? Or they were covering up their mistake? Either way, it's very frustrating. I smile through it. "I love surprises. How sweet. Please get some tea for the two in my room. I will get dressed for breakfast now." Sisi leaves to get the tea while Daisy comes in to help me get dressed. She eyes Tincar with scared eyes.

I guess he was right earlier about people here being scared of Posha men. To be fair, I was as well at first—of my husband Picus especially. He was the embodiment of a Posha man: tall, muscled, aggressive, and proud, but also surprisingly respectful to women. I soon came to love these qualities in him, perhaps also because he showed such affection towards my young, fragile heart. After my daughter was born, that love slowly turned to hate as I realized he abandoned us after bringing me to his castle.

As I look up in the mirror, I notice my maids have very skilled fingers. My hair and makeup look perfect once again. I hear Preza whistle behind me. "Don't you look pretty?" she teases. Daisy and Sisi look very uncomfortable. I guess they didn't escape the Posha hate group. "Don't I? What wonderful maids I have, right?" I say sarcastically in Posha. "Don't flatter yourself. And especially don't flatter those girls. The brown-haired one didn't dare to look at us as she served us tea." Tincar is making himself look scarier than usual. I laugh at that and turn to Sisi and Daisy. "Preza and Tincar are the nicest people in the world. No need to be scared. Is breakfast served in the same room as yesterday?" "No, breakfast and lunch are in another room. I will lead the way," Sisi says as she starts to head toward the door, happy to get away from Preza and Tincar. "Thank you. Daisy, please bring them breakfast in their room. Also for Mucala, please." Before I follow Sisi, I tell Preza and Tincar that their breakfast will be served in their bedroom, which seems to excite them. I don't want to know what they are going to do with that breakfast.

Just as Sisi is about to open the door, we hear a knock. The door opens immediately after, and Kitaja seems to have let herself in. "Good morning, baby. How was your sleep? All rested up?" I ask as I lift her up to kiss her cheek. "I slept very long, auntie Mucala said." "You sure did. You crashed immediately the moment we got back from dinner. How do you like your room?" "I like yours more... but it's pretty." "That's good to hear. Then we can play in my room a lot." I tickle her belly. "Ahhh, Mommy, stop it. Stop it!"

"Come on, let's eat some breakfast." I hold her hand as we walk after Sisi. On the way there, we cross paths with Augustus. He might have been on his way to fetch us again.

"Good morning, Augustus. How are you doing today?" I ask while deepening my curtsy, still holding Kitaja's hand. He doesn't answer. Instead, he looks at our hands, then back up to my face. He looks jealous. Maybe his mother never held his hand. "Do you want to hold my hand?" He turns red at that. "I am not a child. Don't treat me like one," he raises his voice. Kitaja hides behind my dress. "My apologies, Augustus. Please don't be mad. We are to be married, are we not? Holding hands is also meant for lovers." He turns an even deeper shade of red and grabs my hand. His hands are a bit clammy. Poor child; he has probably never held the hand of a woman before.

"I am well," he mutters as we walk, seemingly ignoring this awkward moment. "Great! I am doing all right as well. I heard the tailor is coming soon." "So you like clothes?" That question catches me off guard. "I suppose I do."

The conversation about clothes continues during breakfast. Lucinda and Merida obviously love clothes, as they are speaking much less hostile now. Merida even follows me to my room as the tailor arrives. She seems to know him very well and is even blushing a bit when he greets her. After measuring and choosing a couple of designs and colors for my regular wardrobe, we move on to the wedding dress. The tailor had already decided on a design with Lucinda and Merida earlier, but I change the neckline to something slightly higher. I am not a fresh bride; a low neckline would not suit me.

As the tailor starts to pack up, I stop him. "I need a couple of dresses for my daughter as well. She is six but a bit tall for her age. Also, two dresses and a suit for my knights and my daughter's nursemaid. They cannot come in their current clothing to my wedding. Should I call them in for measurements?" Merida protests. "They are servants. Why would they even come to a royal wedding?" "Have you forgotten our conversation from yesterday already? They are my dear friends. Of course they would be at my wedding." My patience is starting to thin; I'm tired from all the clothing fuss. "Sisi, go and call Preza, Tincar, and Mucala." Merida wants to argue again, but something in her stops her. My best guess is Augustus.

The tailor hesitantly measures all three of them. They all visibly despise it as well. However, it is necessary to set the tone from now on. I will not have them walked over.