Time for the Truth: a story of a sleeping beauty

Part 4: Rendezvous

I felt like the only thing I had learned with MADAME was that she was a hypocritical, unpleasant snob, and that she wanted to make me into one as well.
" Morijdian princesses do not snort." 

"Where did you learn your manners!" she hissed as I walked or commented on anything.  I was past embarrassed, now I was angry. I had taken etiquette since I was a baby as a princess of my own country, and I admit I was a little curious to see some of the differences. The way she presented it though made me feel as though I was a barn cow. I had never been a social butterfly like Paris, my youngest sister, and I could not help the way my body had been trained to hold itself. At least not within our first twenty minute session- during which time she had criticized my loud breathing, sleepy eyes, and unbraided hair. Needless to say, I was feeling ragged and hateful towards the end. 

"Morijdian princesses do not exhibit annoyance." - I would like to point out she said this as she huffed in annoyance. Finally she got flustered enough to leave me with an etiquette book that I could "page through at my leisure, so long as you finish it by tomorrow." 
I didn't trust her or her pinched uptightness. Apparently common girls had more freedom than noble ones here, which was both confusing and annoying for my future.

I realize that Rior had known I wouldn't like her, even though he didn't know me at all, so she must be like this with everyone. I glared at her as she bowed as haughtily as she could before she left. Was it bad that I took small comfort from the fact that she had to bow to me still? I stood and nodded curtly back, smiling painfully- until she turned around and I made a face at her.

I did actually begin to page through the book, murmuring the words in the same tones that madame spoke in.

"As one enters any room of a fellow, one washes one's feet in the sand jar, and removes coverings only when bidden by their host."

The words were in my language, well translated, yet this was an extremely old book. I had never heard of Morijdians before, could they be a forgotten land? My hand twitches, wondering if ten minutes are up.

I stand, sweeping my books into the small box they had given me. It's an awkward way to carry books, but according to Morijdian history, children learn at the hands of the most capable scholars, but leave their books there, and focus on learning other things when away from the classroom. Which means I will have to find my way back to the library tomorrow to read.

The new knowledge is intriguing, in spite of my previous desire to leave this place forever. I walk towards the stacks of books- they are kept in separate shelves that can stack in multiple ways, with little wooden and glass fronts to each of them.

Some of the cupboards contain mounted medallions and old weapons, or horseshoes or bits of glass and pottery.

I wish there were captions, but there are numbers next to each, drawn into the velvet lining of the stands they are on. The ink has spread and lightened as only very old ink does.

My father used to let me look at the chronicles of our history and I would touch the pages so delicately that they would not wither under my fingers. I was going to be allowed to help copy some of the old texts the month after I turned twenty, or at least that was the plan before I became ill.

I wander into the more shadowy parts of the library, remembering that a guide is supposed to be coming for me. I turn at the sound of my name, but it is just my guard, waiting for me.

"I thank you for tending to this duty, but would you mind terribly if I stayed a bit longer? It would be good for me to learn my way back alone." I smile at him, just realizing that at some point my mouth went on ahead of my decision as to whether or not I wanted to be with Rior alone again.