Book 3, Chapter 15: The Eager Child
“Yes, he is thirteen years of age. A growing man.”
Brin forced me into a dress. Billowing, light blue and white, I sat in front of a middle-aged man, a touch of a dadbody and sporting an enormous moustache that fell into a goatee, pepper in color with sprinkles of red, and a child by his side. An angry child, who stared at me like I was his possession. With a bowl haircut, blonde, outlining his puffy, child’s face. I blinked at these people in disbelief, thinking perhaps that I wasn’t quite seeing properly.
Brin hadn’t lied. The suitor was thirteen but looked so much younger. Wait, a voice inside my head said, thirteen is young. You can’t find them much younger! I tried to focus on what the kid was saying.
“I expect my wife to never strut around like a whore in armor. I’ve heard the rumors! We’ve all heard the rumors. No. Once we get married, you will wear proper feminine attire and-”
“You can go fu-” Brin kicked me under the table. Hard. I wanted to rub my shin, but I scowled instead, seriously contemplating taking off my jewelry and testing out my magic’s capacity to cause harm.
“Her Royal Highness acknowledges your . . . presence,” she hastily said, “and welcomes your soldiers into our army.”
The father, a count, the one with the greying beard and moustache, spoke, “We have not agreed to lend our force to your military aims.”
“You seriously think I’m going to marry this child here? For your 3000 troops?”
“Cayce!” Brin gasped, “What the princess is trying to say is-”
I stood up, “Your tiny regiment can clean our latrines. Sweep the floors of our tents. Good day, sir and child.” I left the room.
“Father!” his prepubescent voice squealed.
Brin hastily added, “And of course, you are welcome to our dinner later this week. Until then, the castle steward will keep your accommodations.” Wooden squeaks across the stone floor as she got up, her footsteps chasing after me.
I was sorely tempted to, but I didn’t, shut the door in her face as I left.
“Cayce, you can’t act with such impropriety!”
“A child! Speaking to me like that!” I stopped and wheeled on Brin, finger in her face, waving, “No more children! No more children. Say it with me.”
“Look, I’m sorry, I was, they, they came from the farthest north your kingdom goes.”
“And?”
“Well, they had to be here. I warned you last night they were going to present a thirteen-year-old boy as your suitor! But if you stop and think about it, Cayce, he’s only two years younger than you.”
I held my breath, counted to five, thought of all the sarcastic ways I could respond and gave up, “Brin, let’s just agree on something, ok? I’m somewhat more mature than I first appear.” She gave me a look, so I added, “Usually, I mean usually.”
“Well, for the most part. But you’re a terrible statesman. And you constantly forget how the real world works.”
“Stateswoman!” Why did I even say that? I started off, walking away, fast.
“Ok, ok, I can see you’re annoyed. But he’s only thirteen.” She half giggled, half laughed, “You don’t have to be this upset.”
“Huh. You’re right. I don’t know what it is. The worry that I’ll blow someone up if I hold my hand the wrong way or, I don’t know.” I couldn’t say it, but the thought hit me that I really felt like I was fifteen. Almost fifteen! I squeezed my hands into fists in front of my face wanting desperately to tell her, “Brin, this isn’t me.”
She held her hands up under her breasts, “Cayce, some girls just mature more slowly than others . . .” then turned and raced off down the hallway.
“You bitch!” I chased after her as fast I could. Difficult in this dress. It was billowy, but the shift underneath was tight around my legs. As I hobbled, I decided to tell Brin never to dress me in these again, no matter how feminine it made my walk.
I hiked up the dress and shift and caught up to her in front of an unusually dressed gentleman. He was tall, but thin, wearing a blue silk jacket with black trim and a scarlet muffler around his neck that fell nearly to his waist. “Lady Brin, it appears you have found the princess.” He bowed low, “Your Royal Highness, I am Ambassador Saercian from the Laemacian Empire, on behalf of Emperor Otholos.”
“Uh,” I stopped in my tracks, pushing down my ruffled clothing. We weren’t supposed to meet like this, two girls running around playing games in the hallways, but in a proper, stately conference room. With guards. He could be dangerous, with the emperor being a usurper and me holding the legitimate titles to those lands. It was possible he came to kill me. I offered my hand, curtsied, saying, “Ambassador. An, uhm, unexpected pleasure.”
“Is it? I do apologize. We have sent several missives – have you not gotten them? Bandits, perhaps, or the state of war your kingdom is in. Nevertheless, your birthday approaches and our emperor thought it fitting to congratulate you.”
He had lavender eyes. Like mine, but lighter, with a touch of hazel in them. “Well,” I began, not knowing what to say or how to act, “you are most welcome. What an enormous pleasure. Brin, find their party some rooms while I entertain the ambassador.”
She switched to formal intonation, “Yes, my lady.” And hastened off. It wasn’t really her job to find accommodation for guests, but she worked with Tread and whosever job this was, whose name escaped me, to do so, and I wasn’t worried. Except that I had no idea how many people we would be putting up. An empire was larger than a kingdom, or so I imagined.
I copied the former duke, and offered the ambassador my arm, “Walk with me. Let us retire to my . . . study.”
“With pleasure, my lady.”
I took him through the dining hall and up to the duke’s study. Well, I thought to myself, perhaps I could give him a migraine with that awful fake whiskey the duke had made. We had barrels of the stuff.
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