In Which Jeda Is Done a Disservice

January 29, 1166

"...but I'm not entirely sure," Raia concluded her long-winded answer to Leara's question, an answer which Jeda did not fully understand but somehow felt as though it might have been abridged in the presence of an adult. "I think my father knows, but he says it's none of our business and not our place to ask. I'll only know if my cousin tells me himself, and I'm not sure I can see that happening any time soon."

Behind Jeda, Camaline permitted herself a stiff yawn. "And I don't see why either of you should care why he's here. What matters is that he is a disobedient knight who is breaking his vows to his king by stealing away from Dovia. Your father is wrong to allow him to stay, and our own is wrong for not forcing yours to send him on his way."

While it had been Jeda's idea to come to Leara's room, this sleepover had been anything but. From what she could gather, Leara had invited Raia to spend the night, and Queen Laralita had therefore insisted that Camaline invite someone as well. The problem with this, of course, was that there were few girls with whom Camaline got along. She had invited her, Jeda was positive, as the least of all possible evils: most were too young, Viridis was too excitable, and Lord knew Xeta would want to bring Eilyssa along, whom Camaline despised.

As little as Jeda had wanted to go, it seemed impolite to decline an invitation, especially one from a princess as per the request of a queen. The silver lining on this cloud was the presence of the two older girls--Leara, who was just kind enough and just brave enough to keep her sister from getting too out of hand, and Raia, the only one who ever dared challenge Camaline's opinions.

And indeed, it looked as though she was about to do just that. "His king? I think you're forgetting about his wife and baby; I imagine their need of him is much more pressing than King Farilon's, Cam."

Camaline glared at her. "That would be Princess Camaline to you--and you shouldn't think for a second that family loyalty is the slightest bit more important than allegiance to the monarch!"

"Easy for you to say, as it's the same thing in your case," quipped Raia; if ever was a girl born for the purpose of dealing with difficult people, it was she. "However, let's look at this logically. Danthia only has one husband, and Tivalia only has one father; on the other hand, Farilon has dozens of knights."

"But King Farilon is a king! Lady Danthia is only a knight's wife, a baron's daughter."

Camaline's sister shook her head. "You might not want to look too far down your nose at barons' daughters, Camaline."

Nodding in agreement, Raia glanced over at Jeda and smiled. "In fact, this baron's daughter will be your queen one day. It might be wise to keep yourself in her good graces."

Jeda looked to the floor and watched her toes curl inwards; so much for hoping that she wouldn't be dragged into this. Fortunately, Camaline didn't seem to perceive her as much of a threat. "Oh, Jeda has nothing but good graces--besides, it isn't as if she's queen yet."

"Oh, but maybe she can look the part!" squealed Leara in sudden delight, cutting off whatever rebuttal had been about to sound from Raia's open mouth. Giddy, she sprung from the bed and skipped around the footboard until she was face to face with Jeda. "Jeda dear, may I please do something with your hair?"

Two distinct groans rang throughout the room; it seemed that there was something on which Raia and Camaline could agree after all.

Leara gave them each a dismissive wave, then turned back to Jeda with an eager excitement that she never would have expected of a princess. "Don't listen to them--they're just jealous because they don't have long, beautiful curls like you!"

"Or maybe we just don't want to have to sit around and watch you fret about her hair," Camaline grumbled. "It's a servant's work, you do realize."

Back on the bed, Raia sighed. "Maybe let her get it out of her system--better Jeda than me, at least."

Leara took Jeda by the arm and bounced, unwittingly pinching her in the process. "You are going to be so beautiful when I'm done with you! Raia, can you toss me my brush? It's in the cabinet by your side of the bed."

Rolling her eyes, Raia did as requested. Before she knew it, Jeda's hair was being yanked at, braided, pinned up until she reached the point where it seemed useless to even try to follow. All she knew was that the king's eldest daughter was tugging at her scalp, and would not stop before her urge had been satisfied.

Only once did Leara release her hold on Jeda's hair, just to reach into a nearby vase and pick out some small white flowers, leaving only the larger purple ones. This prompted a raised eyebrow from Raia. "Your stepmother's not going to be happy about that."

The princess merely shrugged. "I'll simply tell her that they look much nicer on Jeda than they ever could in the vase--and you have to admit that they do."

"I'll give you that."

Smiling, Leara released Jeda and looked her over, only to then turn her around so she could meet her reflection. "Done! Do you like it?"

"It's... nice," she muttered in reply as she studied the braided bun. While she did think Leara had done a good job with the hair, she had never cared to wear it up; her face was flat and doughy enough without pulling back her curls to showcase the fact.

Leara grabbed her by the shoulder again. Jeda looked pleadingly at Camaline, only to be met with a smug frown that bore the clear message of 'I told you so'. "You know what you need? A nice dress! Camaline, grab one of my old dresses for me."

Fuming in agitated silence, Camaline stormed off to the wardrobe and pulled the doors open, only to send a quick glare back the way of her sister. "My God! You must have at least thirty gowns in here--most of which you've scarcely worn, if at all!"

She grabbed what Jeda supposed was the nearest one and tossed it to her sister. Clearly displeased with Camaline's irreverent treatment of the dress, Leara stomped up to the younger girl and handed it back. "Not this one--I was thinking that one I wore to Ramona's christening."

"How should I remember what you wore to Ramona's christening? That was ages ago!"

An exasperated growl escaping her mouth, Leara shoved Camaline to the side and pulled out white, gold-trimmed gown, which she then offered to Jeda. "Try it on!"

Her childlike glee had been quick to return; it seemed to Jeda that it was useless to rebel. She pulled off her nightgown and gave it to Leara, who proceeded to throw it to Camaline. She then allowed the older princess to dress her as a maid dressed her lady--laces, ties, shoes...

At last, Leara breathed a sigh of contentment. "Oh, Jeda, you are so beautiful!"

Behind her, Camaline snorted. "The dress is a little short, don't you think?"

"Regardless," Raia insisted, "you do look nice, Jeda. Can we do something else now?"

"Well... what sort of 'something else' do you have in mind, angelface?"

The speaker was neither Leara nor Camaline--and of course, it was not Jeda. Indeed, it was a male voice, coming from the now-open door. Jeda felt her heart flutter against her ribs like a butterfly against a stain-glass window.

Prince Ietrin flashed his dazzling smile across the room. "Hello, ladies. Getting comfortable for the night, I see?"

Leara returned his grin with a glower. "Get out! No boys allowed!"

"You seem to be perfectly fine with Cammie's presence."

If Leara's glare had been threatening, then Camaline's was downright venomous. "It's Camaline--and I'm obviously a girl!"

Ietrin smirked. "You keep telling yourself that, Camalon."

"Camaline!"

Laughing, Raia hoisted herself from the bed and gestured toward Jeda. "Look at your future wife, Ietrin," she told him with a wide grin--probably more to ease the wrath of his sisters than to compliment Jeda, she was sure of it. "Isn't she pretty?"

Ietrin's eyes flickered Jeda's way for a brief second. "Very nice."

Jeda felt a blush swelling in her cheeks as the prince drew nearer. "Thank y--"

But he brushed right past her, crossing between her and Leara and, instead, making his way toward Raia. "Anyway, according to my gender-confused brother, my sister here is quite the kicker; perhaps we can find you somewhere more comfortable to sleep?"

He seemed to have been making a joke, one that Jeda did not quite get. Raia, however, seemed to understand. "I take it you mean your own bed."

Laughing, Ietrin leaned toward her, his torso bending from his hips in such a way that Jeda might have thought him drunk had she not known otherwise. "Well, it hadn't been my intention to be so forward, but if you are the one to suggest it, then who am I to refuse?"

Leara placed her fist under her chin and pouted. "Ietrin, would you mind not flirting with my friend, you obnoxious oaf?"

Flirting? The word stung like an arrow to the heart. Jeda had always known she would some day see Ietrin flirting, but it had never occurred to her that she herself would not be the recipient. They had been betrothed since they were babies--wasn't he doing her some sort of disservice just now?

Neither Ietrin nor Raia appeared to have heard Leara--or if they had, they chose to ignore her. "Ietrin, as you're constantly reminding everyone, you're a prince; you may refuse whatever and whoever you like."

Well, at the very least, Raia didn't seem to appreciate his advances. Of course, this may have been a bad omen--Jeda did not know much about flirting and courtship and love, but she recalled hearing that some women used disinterest as a means of showing... well, interest.

"I know," Ietrin assured her, his straight white teeth almost sparkling in the light of the chandelier, "and such is my right to not refuse as well."

"Fortunately for me, I have nothing for you to refuse or not refuse."

Judging by a moment of panicked tension on the part of his body, this was more than Ietrin knew what to do with; much to Jeda's chagrin, however, he decided to try a different angle.

"It's convenient how the body allows for adjustments, is it not?" he mused aloud, his voice both rough and velvet to Jeda's ears. "I need only incline my head to meet your mouth."

Raia's eyes narrowed. "And I need only raise my knee to meet your crotch."

"Oh, there are far more pleasurable ways for you to meet my--ow! Jesus!"

Whatever these more pleasurable ways were, the means of the knee had evidently been good enough for Raia.

Jeda didn't know what to think as she watched her betrothed cringe in pain. She felt sorry for him, and she didn't. He hadn't deserved it, but he had. She didn't know. Perhaps there was some magical gap between nine and ten, and she would understand all of what had been said between Ietrin and Raia in another six months. Or maybe it was simply her, and she would never be able to make sense of such a conversation if she lived to be a hundred.

And when she thought of herself--flat-faced, doughy, and plain--in comparison to the ice crystal Camalines and violet-eyed, fun-loving Learas and sharp, raven-haired Raias of the world, she wondered if the latter was not the kinder scenario after all.

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