Her Rightful Place

30: The Seamstress

To Prince Xavier of Mordalce, may God's blessings be upon him,

I am pleased that you also see fit to write less formally than Decorum would have us do, if she in her strict matronly ways would permit our writing at all. Something tells me that my mother would not approve, but then, I take great joy in doing those things of which she does not approve. It keeps me sane, as do the little pranks and jokes and so on that we play throughout the long, tedious days of lesson after lesson.

By we, of course, I mean myself and Christelle, who is as vivacious as ever. She was rather flustered when I informed her of the Duke's displeasure regarding her conduct during our dancing lessons, which I daresay are the only lessons she really enjoys. This is not for the flirting but rather for the information she gets thereby, the nature of which I have already relayed to you. We took one of your suggestions and wrote our latest essays backwards in Lanourese, which is the language of the Church here that we have been required to learn for our lessons in the Faith. Unfortunately, this only served to annoy the Countess Orelanjara, my history and etiquette tutor, and very nearly earned us more hours of prayer; we were spared when Father remarked on our marvelous progress in the Holy Language.

Speaking of the Faith, your invitation brought on a new onslaught of things to be learned therein. It seems that it is absolutely, non-negotiably necessary for me to be "sanctified in the Faith" before I am again permitted to set foot on "pagan soil" (Mother's words, not mine). I do not blame you, as I expect the Midsummer's Eve Ball to be well worth all the hassle, but you had best not disappoint my expectations with the event. This Sanctification, my mother hopes, will be roughly one month hence, on a Sabbath on the edge of summer. If you are not too busy rescuing servants and ruling behind the scenes, I would be immeasurably honored by your presence for this momentous occasion. If you yourself cannot make it, do endeavor to send the Duke of Pelanshire in your stead. I am certain that Christelle would be most grateful for his presence.

On that note, has the Duke mentioned anything to you about a female companion for Enzo? If he is not already planning to give such a dog to Christelle, you ought to suggest it. I can think of no better way for him to secure her affections. That is, assuming that he is as enamored of her as she is of him. But you mustn't assure him too much of her affections. I would dearly like to see him try to impress her. That will be much more fun for all parties involved.

The most fun I have on any given day is either during riding or music lessons. I love both for the escape they furnish for me. I've been learning to play the harp and, because Madame Zephira is so pleased with my progress, I have been allowed to compose some simple songs of my own. I used this privilege to get out of trouble the other night at my "weekly performance review," which is an invention of Countess Orelanjara no doubt designed to humiliate me in front of the entire court. She was disappointed, as everyone seems to believe that my progress has been miraculously good.

Anyway, Christelle mouthed off to Mother because Mother had the audacity to mention her hopes for grandchildren in my presence, and Mother assigned both of us an extra hour with Father Confessor each day for two weeks to "contemplate and make atonement for our sins." This was not to be borne, as Father Confessor tries to touch us where he should not when Mother is not looking and I hate the Chapel anyway (but do not tell anyone, for that is blasphemy). So we wrote lyrics to our composition that was to be played at the "performance review" that indicated our penitent hearts. Father caught our drift, made us explain the story, and publicly lambasted my mother and revoked our punishment. I like him very much, and not only because he is my champion in conflicts with my mother. He is a wise and just king, and I hope to be much like him if and when I ever have the opportunity to rule a nation.

I am also told that I have other suitors, most notably the Khandazarians. It seems that since they cannot lay waste through war, they intend to take our country through marriage. My mother refuses even to speak to the envoys, but Father entertains them, perhaps to annoy Mother or to get back at her for her pushiness while you were here. She simply does not seem to understand my position on things of this nature. But that cannot be helped, and I trust that you and my father will keep my best interests in mind, even if she turns me a blind eye and a deaf ear.

Alas, I am being summoned again. It seems I have only a few minutes before my next lesson in floral arrangement. Why this is necessary, no one can tell me, but away I go anyway. A final thought, to answer your question: They permit me no time to practice my trade, but I have taken to altering my dresses after evening Chapel each night. It helps me relax, and the results are more flattering than these elaborate Vyrunian gowns they make me wear. I hate the styles here. But no matter. Do tell me some specifics about your servant rescuing and other adventures in your next letter. My intellect starves for want of something interesting to read. It seems that Vyrunian ladies are to be accomplished in many ways and yet completely dumb. No matter. I am no Vyrunian lady.

Your village seamstress to the end,

Mireille