Betrothed to Trouble

Chapter 20 - A Leap of Faith

I woke up to the overpowering need to throw up. Instinctively, I rolled over to the side of the bed – which I had no recollection as to how I arrived here – and began regurgitating the remains of my meagre breakfast onto the polished dark wooden floor. A small voice in the back of my mind brought to light the fact that this was not my usual bedroom, but the pain was too overwhelming for such a trivial issue to matter. Someone, probably one of my handmaids had let out a horrified gasp and rushed over to pull back my hair out of the way, whilst a younger maid began rushing around to clean the mess I had made.

“Sorry,” I managed to croak, seeing as my throat felt raw from the violent retching and my head spun whenever I tried to move myself. To my horror, the cloying smell of beer began to pervade the room and even as the maid began cleaning the floor, I heard the rumble of rushed footsteps aproaching the door. Resigned to my strange disease, I was helpless as I watched Father enter the room; the lines on his forehead immediately deepening as he sniffed the room’s putrid stench suspiciously.

“What is this horrible stench?” he immediately asked the maid who was frantically mopping the floor.

                “Y-your Majesty,” she stammered, curtsying hurriedly, obviously terrified by the way she clenched at the mop handle for dear life. Poor girl, she probably thought that he was going to punish her for the mess.

                “Your Majesty,” the older maid who was dabbing my forehead with a damp cloth answered calmly instead. “The Princess threw up earlier,” she nodded in my direction.

                I was pale with fear and pain, but I did my best to smile up at Father. “Hello, Father,” I greeted him sheepishly, reaching out a trembling hand towards him.

                “Oh, Giselle,” he sighed tiredly, taking my hand in his and sitting on the bed next to me. The maid excused herself, and practically dragged the trembling young one out of the room. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked me, feeling my damp forehead with the back of his hand.

                “Yes, just a touch of a headache and nausea,” I managed to squeak out, despite of the quavering fear threatening to expose me as I inhaled the scent of beer rising from the soiled floor.

                Father, now much closer to the source of the smell must have noticed it too; for he turned around and stared at the floor curiously. “Good heavens! What on earth did you eat for breakfast?” he asked, looking at me incredulously. “The doctors are saying that this maybe a case of food poisoning,” he added on a graver note.

                “Erm, I don’t really recall what I ate this morning. Maybe it’s just the stress, Father,” I tried consoling him, and he wrinkled his nose at the stench but said nothing more.

                Just at this moment, Nana entered the room carrying a tray laden with hot tea and broth, unaware that Father was in the room, and exclaimed with a  snort of revulsion. “Good Lord! This room stinks of beer! Giselle! Have you been drinking – oh!” she gasped at the sight of my father sitting next to me, almost dropping the tray as she stood frozen with her mouth hung loose.

                Father ignored her and instead snapped his gaze to me, his dark eyes burning like coals with fury as I shrunk back into the downy pillows in fear.

                “Giselle,” he growled warningly, and it was all I could do not to yelp in fear.

****************

                “So I heard you snuck off last night and got drunk at a local tavern?” a familarly annoying voice listed off smugly just as I was trying to fall sleep.