Her Rightful Place

16: The Breakfast

By the time Queen Généviève recovers, Mireille is dressed in the pouffy pink gown selected for her and sitting delicately at a small table in her antechamber, just finishing her breakfast. The Queen is white as a sheet and rigid, a million thoughts swirling just behind her eyes. Mireille, in contrast, seems entirely relaxed and composed; only Christelle can tell that the Princess is anxious and steeling herself for a fight.

"Are you feeling all right, Mother? You look awfully pale," Mireille inquires politely, acting quite as though nothing ought to be amiss. A good actress, this one. Maybe she is cut out for this, after all, Clothilde muses. Christelle translates for Mireille in the same tone, adding to the effect of her words. Queen Généviève gapes at Mireille for a few seconds before gathering herself enough to speak.

"How can you even ask such a question? I should be asking you how you are feeling, not that I do not already know! How can you even be alive, with so many scars? And you are so skinny.... I had first marveled at your waistline but attributed it to your corsets, but it seems you hardly need one! I know not how you have even made it here! Will someone please fetch her some more breakfast? You can hardly be healthy, my dear.... Oh, good heavens, who did this to you?"

"Did what, Mother? Each of my imperfections has its own story," Mireille answers coolly. The Ladies of the Chamber marvel at her composure. Mireille, for her part, feels quite as strained as she did when she was acting for her confrontation with Queen Bêtel but, as before, shows no sign of it.

"We can start with your skinniness. Did you not eat, in Mordalce? Had they not enough food for poor villagers? Is Christelle also as bony as you?"

"Hardly. I simply did not make enough money to feed myself, keep my shop presentable, and keep enough wares, for my goods were of a luxury sort and I often had to buy fabrics and the like. Also, as we have mentioned before, the former shopkeeper was a witch, and there was a good deal of magic left in the place. It would frequently create unpleasant messes and such that I would have to attend to in order to keep my business running, and all of these things can be very expensive. I chose to eat only enough to sustain life and enough vitality to do my work, and I know of no one who can condemn me, for any other choice would have led to a decrease in revenue and then I never could have kept feeding myself anyway." The Queen sinks into a chair pushed into position by the quick-thinking Monique. This information is almost too much for poor Généviève to bear.

"And the scars?" Mireille winces ever so slightly; only Christelle and Monique notice.

"The witch who owned the shop before me was my mentor. I was apprenticed to her shortly after my arrival in Mordalce. She was not a kind woman and punished me harshly for anything she viewed as misbehavior. The marks that mar my skin are her legacy," Mireille explains woodenly. Christelle, still translating for her friend, takes on an angrier tone and glares at the Queen for asking such information of Mireille. Queen Généviève, for her part, also seems to grow angrier at this report.

"Where is the vile hag now?"

"Long gone. She was burned at stake for witchcraft and child abuse when Mireille was thirteen," Christelle provides before Mireille can speak. The Queen tenses at this news.

"The King will not be pleased. He would prefer to avenge Mireille personally, as would I."

"Fear not, Mother. I am certain that she is burning eternally in hell for her crimes," Mireille replies airily, nibbling a biscuit brought by the lady who had scurried off to fetch her more breakfast. Queen Généviève's eyes light up with new interest.

"Exactly what theology do you have, dear? It seems that living so long with a witch did not make you pagan."

"I believe in a loving God. I do not believe I could have survived so long in Agnes's care without Him. But I must confess I cannot see where all the rituals of the Faith here fit into His plan. I believe in a God who prefers us to worship Him through emulation of the love He shows us. As He loves us, so should we love others." The Queen claps her hands excitedly.

"Then we have much less to teach you than I originally thought! Oh, how wonderful! We must only show you how essential our services are to the proper worship of the Most High God! Come along then, dear. To the chapel!"

"But I thought I was to study Vyrunian before--"

"Oh, hush! You'll pick it up soon enough! Your progress in that area has already been remarkable. Just practice as much as you can throughout the day. Come along, Mireille! We have a busy day ahead!" Mireille exchanges a brief glance with Christelle; both girls are anything but thrilled about this idea.

"Yes, Mother," Mireille consents, tucking a few remaining morsels into her sleeve as consolation. Mother surely cannot object to my eating during lessons, if she thinks I am too skinny, although I am sure it violates the etiquette, Mireille muses. Perhaps Christelle and I will find ways to have fun with this nonsense. I hope so, else I shall lose my mind before my next birthday.