Girl children in particular… Tasia thought through the implications of what Joslyn had mentioned so casually, and shuddered.
But instead of revealing to Joslyn how much it bothered her, she arched an eyebrow and said, “Well, anyone who intends to be on my personal staff long-term needs to be able to read. I’ll read the fortune cards for you tonight, but we will begin your reading lessons tomorrow night.”
Joslyn gave a slight smile. “Very well.” She paused. “Commander Cole and your father wish for me to teach you to protect yourself. So you can teach me about letters,” she said, tapping the fortune card Tasia had turned over, “and I will teach you about self-defense.”
“What? Self-defense?” Tasia said, horrified. “No one informed me of this.”
“You’ve had an eventful day, Princess,” Joslyn said. “They must have forgotten to mention it.”
Tasia was still irritated. She crossed her arms against her chest. “They expect me to… what, exactly? Fight? Learn to use a sword?”
“I think swordplay will come much later,” said Joslyn, not reacting to the Princess’s sharp tone. “For now, training you in basic escape maneuvers and grappling techniques seems a good starting point. And possibly learning to use a dagger.”
Daggers, escape maneuvers, grappling techniques? It was all too much for Tasia. Princesses didn’t fight.
“Why on Earth would a princess need to learn to defend herself?” Tasia demanded. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s what you’re here for!”
Still looking at the castle piece in her hand instead of the Princess, Joslyn answered, “My understanding is that you have shown a tendency in the past to slip away from the palace on your own for… liaisons with young men. I believe your father and the commander worry that, despite my best efforts, you and I may become separated somehow.”
The Princess blushed fiercely.
“There may come a time when you need to find your way to safety without me.” Joslyn shrugged. “Hopefully that will never happen. But in case it does, they wanted me to prepare you with a rudimentary level of self-defense.”
“Fine,” Tasia huffed, looking down to hide her reddening face. She didn’t mind learning to fight so much as she minded this illiterate ex-slave having so much access to the private details of her life. But perhaps the lamplight was too soft for Joslyn to notice her embarrassment. The Princess took in a breath and focused on controlling her voice. “Alright, Joslyn. You teach me self-defense. I teach you to read. But for tonight, Castles and Knights.”
“Castles and Knights,” Joslyn repeated with a nod. She smiled, and to Tasia it looked very much like a smirk. Very much like a knowing smile from someone who knew they’d subtly gained the upper hand.
The Princess ground her teeth. Just when she’d started to almost like this guard, Joslyn had proven herself to be just like all other commoners — eager to find a way to show herself to be better than a highborn. Tasia put the insulting self-defense lessons out of her mind and continued her explanation of Castles and Knights.
#
“He smelled of onions,” Mylla said for the third time.
They sat together at the small table, sipping tea and sharing the breakfast the chambermaid brought for Tasia. It was just after dawn on the third day of Tasia’s new schedule of duties. Two days earlier, Tasia began attending all her father’s meetings. So far, that included only private meetings with his close circle of advisors, but today marked the first day of the annual spring council meetings.
And as if the private meetings and council meetings were not enough, Tasia was also expected to keep up with her regular lessons with the Wise Men and her new self-defense lessons with Joslyn. Her hands were still sore from the previous day’s so-called “self-defense” lesson, in which she had primarily carried rocks up and down the beach while Joslyn stood idly by and watched.
Normally, the busy schedule would irritate Tasia, lead to her complaining to her father that it was all too much. But she was still shaken over being attacked, and the fact that the assassin had managed to kill himself before they got any useful information out of him did nothing to ease her nerves. At least the new schedule, from meetings to lessons to “self-defense” to Mylla’s complaints about her latest onion-smelling suitor, all helped her to keep her mind off the fact that whoever wanted her dead was probably still out there, plotting a second attack.
“Onions aren’t necessarily a bad thing,” Tasia said to Mylla. “They go well with duck and — ”
“Tasia. He smelled of onions, he’s nearly shorter than I am,” Mylla said, ticking off the boy’s faults on her fingers, “he’s chubby, his teeth are yellow, and he acts as if he has probably never talked to a girl in his whole life.”
Tasia giggled. “He probably hasn’t.” She nibbled on a piece of bacon.
“And he smelled of onions.”
“You mentioned that part already. Does all this mean you will refuse to marry him?” Tasia asked. She tried not to sound hopeful.
Mylla made a sour face. She dropped another sugar cube into her tea — her fourth, by Tasia’s count — and stirred. “Well,” she said with deliberate slowness, “unlike some people, I don’t have the luxury of refusing my father’s wishes.”
“Actually, you do. By law,” Tasia said. “The Emperor Godfrey established that after the Second War of Unification. All highborn girls have right of refusal over their suitors. How do you think I’ve managed to remain unmarried all this time?” She waggled her eyebrows at the handmaid.
But Mylla clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth impatiently. “You and the Emperor Godfrey can both go lay an egg,” she said. “I’m very happy you’ve been listening to Norix’s history lessons for once, but I don’t have any right of refusal. I cannot tell my father no. He has already made clear that the fortunes of House Harthing ride upon my marriage.”
“How many suitors are you up to now, Myll?” Tasia asked. “There’s this onion-boy, before that was horse-face, and freckle-nose, and — ”
“I’m so glad you find my misery so amusing,” Mylla said drily. “While you go prancing around being the new heir, gloating and refusing your suitors, some of us still have to marry on our eighteenth birthday and be pregnant with our second child by our nineteenth.”
The conversation lapsed into an awkward lull.
After a few seconds of silence, Tasia reached across the table, took Mylla’s hand in her own. “I’m sorry, my sweet. I wasn’t trying to gloat at your misery. Would you like for me to do something? I could get my father to intervene. Lord Galen can tell you what to do, but he can’t tell the Emperor what to do.”
Mylla withdrew her hand. “No. That would only make things worse,” she said, shaking her head and gazing down at the table. “Onion-boy is wealthy. And if he proposes marriage then I have to accept it and that’s that.”
“What was his name again?”
“Onion-boy.”
Tasia laughed. “What’s his real name, Myll?”