of sorts, resplendent in every covering, dimension and
scale. But for the blight upon the room, it would have been a
reflection of beauty. Queen Ada made the room dim in Charles’ estimation. She stood in the middle, her back to the
audience of Clara and he. The deep purple folds of her dress were a
rich warm velvet. The wrong material for the season, but she ran
cold, he had heard, her scrawny form encased in the richest fabrics,
regardless of the season.
He
knew just how cold she really was .
Charles was acutely aware of the
stickiness of his clothes as Prince Frederic’s gaze lingered over the
result of his day’s work. The Prince was supremely fresh in his linen
trousers, silk blouse of the finest weave and an overcoat of a rich,
deep blue. King Otto sat beside him looking decidedly uncomfortable
which struck a lingering question for Charles: what had they walked
in on? What conversation aborted?
Ada turned suddenly, her back now to
the Outside her dark eyes boring into Clara’s, her subdued figure
standing steady under the onslaught of the Queen’s stare.
“Tell me, daughter.”
Clara sucked in a breath, girding
her loins, no doubt. “The yield is as expected…”
“But?” Ada asked the question as
a statement.
“…the cream has taken on a pink
wash.” Clara kept her shoulders back and straight with effort. If
she was uncomfortable it did not show to Charles. Of course, Clara
was well-schooled in keeping her expression to herself.
The Queen’s hands clenched and
unclenched, she looked from Clara to King Otto.
“May I address this, Queen Ada?”
King Otto requested.
She nodded stiffly and Charles heard
a vague, grunting sound.
“I will trade the pink pearls for
the rare grapes. That is not important.”
Clara looked confused for the
briefest of moments. “Did you not wish to trade for the cream, King
Otto?” Was it possible she would not be the whipping girl for the
wrong color?
The King looked profoundly
uncomfortable and Charles’ stomach clenched moments before King Otto
articulated his worst fear, “For the pleasure of a hastened Wedded
Joining I will forgive the color and sweeten the exchange with the
grapes that are so coveted.” His gaze slid to Queen Ada then back
to Clara, “…and forgive even red
pearls for the opportunity of a melding of our
respective kingdoms.”
Charles was flabbergasted. Clara
freshly ten and seven years! She was too young by far to be joined
with Prince Frederic.
Before he could comment, Clara
interjected, “We agreed that we would wait one year hence. Upon my
Day of Birth celebration, marking my womanhood, ten and eight years.”
Clara’s face had a pinched quality and had paled but there she stood,
resolute in her bearing.
Charles thought again how beauty had
a faceted quality and hers was many .
Prince Frederic spoke, “I have
decided I cannot wait to appreciate our new status, my Princess.”
His smarmy tone indicated that which he referred.
Charles felt he would be sick, his
anger infused his body, vibrating to his extremities. “She cannot
wed legally , she must
be ten and eight years, the age of legal consent. Even you must understand that, Prince Frederic, you being twenty and one years
yourself?”
Prince Frederic sharpened his gaze
on Charles, opening his mouth to say something scathing when Queen
Ada interrupted, “He matters not. What he speaks matters not. He is here by my sufferance alone.”
She looked at Charles. “Yes?”
“Yes, my
Queen .” Charles said with the greatest reluctance. He could
not bear this man touching Clara. That she did not love him, want
him… nay, that she did not even
like him , was a misery he could not tolerate for one more
moment.
Charles said, “Mayhap she does not
wish to rule, my Queen.”
The Queen’s eyes narrowed as she
stared at Charles. “She has told you this?”
“Not in so many words.”
Clara turned to him, gripping his
shoulders. “Do not try to help me, dear friend. You know
scale. But for the blight upon the room, it would have been a
reflection of beauty. Queen Ada made the room dim in Charles’ estimation. She stood in the middle, her back to the
audience of Clara and he. The deep purple folds of her dress were a
rich warm velvet. The wrong material for the season, but she ran
cold, he had heard, her scrawny form encased in the richest fabrics,
regardless of the season.
He
knew just how cold she really was .
Charles was acutely aware of the
stickiness of his clothes as Prince Frederic’s gaze lingered over the
result of his day’s work. The Prince was supremely fresh in his linen
trousers, silk blouse of the finest weave and an overcoat of a rich,
deep blue. King Otto sat beside him looking decidedly uncomfortable
which struck a lingering question for Charles: what had they walked
in on? What conversation aborted?
Ada turned suddenly, her back now to
the Outside her dark eyes boring into Clara’s, her subdued figure
standing steady under the onslaught of the Queen’s stare.
“Tell me, daughter.”
Clara sucked in a breath, girding
her loins, no doubt. “The yield is as expected…”
“But?” Ada asked the question as
a statement.
“…the cream has taken on a pink
wash.” Clara kept her shoulders back and straight with effort. If
she was uncomfortable it did not show to Charles. Of course, Clara
was well-schooled in keeping her expression to herself.
The Queen’s hands clenched and
unclenched, she looked from Clara to King Otto.
“May I address this, Queen Ada?”
King Otto requested.
She nodded stiffly and Charles heard
a vague, grunting sound.
“I will trade the pink pearls for
the rare grapes. That is not important.”
Clara looked confused for the
briefest of moments. “Did you not wish to trade for the cream, King
Otto?” Was it possible she would not be the whipping girl for the
wrong color?
The King looked profoundly
uncomfortable and Charles’ stomach clenched moments before King Otto
articulated his worst fear, “For the pleasure of a hastened Wedded
Joining I will forgive the color and sweeten the exchange with the
grapes that are so coveted.” His gaze slid to Queen Ada then back
to Clara, “…and forgive even red
pearls for the opportunity of a melding of our
respective kingdoms.”
Charles was flabbergasted. Clara
freshly ten and seven years! She was too young by far to be joined
with Prince Frederic.
Before he could comment, Clara
interjected, “We agreed that we would wait one year hence. Upon my
Day of Birth celebration, marking my womanhood, ten and eight years.”
Clara’s face had a pinched quality and had paled but there she stood,
resolute in her bearing.
Charles thought again how beauty had
a faceted quality and hers was many .
Prince Frederic spoke, “I have
decided I cannot wait to appreciate our new status, my Princess.”
His smarmy tone indicated that which he referred.
Charles felt he would be sick, his
anger infused his body, vibrating to his extremities. “She cannot
wed legally , she must
be ten and eight years, the age of legal consent. Even you must understand that, Prince Frederic, you being twenty and one years
yourself?”
Prince Frederic sharpened his gaze
on Charles, opening his mouth to say something scathing when Queen
Ada interrupted, “He matters not. What he speaks matters not. He is here by my sufferance alone.”
She looked at Charles. “Yes?”
“Yes, my
Queen .” Charles said with the greatest reluctance. He could
not bear this man touching Clara. That she did not love him, want
him… nay, that she did not even
like him , was a misery he could not tolerate for one more
moment.
Charles said, “Mayhap she does not
wish to rule, my Queen.”
The Queen’s eyes narrowed as she
stared at Charles. “She has told you this?”
“Not in so many words.”
Clara turned to him, gripping his
shoulders. “Do not try to help me, dear friend. You know
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