just fall | ✓

7.

I honestly tried to do my best in my lessons, but as someone that had never before had to deal with being prim and proper, lessons were mostly me struggling to figure out what the hell was going on while Aquia hissed instructions from the side of her mouth. It seemed likely that I'd be asked to leave because I didn't know which fork to use to eat a salad.

In the middle of the third week, Clara pulled me aside after lunch with concern tugging at her perfectly maintained eyebrows. "I've heard that you're having issues in your lessons. Is everything all right?"

"I'm not used to all of this," I told her. "It's a bit terrifying, you know. And it's hard. There's so much to remember."

"And yet I've heard that you can pull apart and engine, clean it, and then rebuild it perfectly," Clara said. "It's not all that difficult."

"I don't understand why there are so many forks!"

She giggled. "So that's your problem? No one told me that you were struggling with all of the stupid formalities. I thought that they meant that you were having issues with the history and the countries."

"No, no." I shook my head. "That's all easy and interesting. It's the frivolities that are difficult."

"Then I'll have to help you out. My room is on the third floor, three doors from the staircase on the left side. I'll tell the guards that you're coming tonight after dinner. I'll be expecting you every night until your memory of everything is satisfactory, understood?"

I smiled. "Aren't you supposed to be not getting involved in all of this?"

She shrugged. "If you can't do well in your lessons, my brothers will be forced to send you home. None of us want that. See you tonight." And she skipped off to her own lesson.

☼

That night, when I went to the third floor, the guards didn't give me a second glance. The hall was dark and silent. There was no moonlight to light my way, only a few dim lamps. I supposed they had an aesthetic that they were trying to uphold, but it was hard to appreciate it when I was stumbling through the dark in heels.

The princess's room was well lit, and she had the little table in front of her couch set as if we were going to eat. It had a lot utensils and I immediately knew it was going to be a long night.

But Clara smiled like it was going to be fun, so I had a little hope. We sat on the couch and she launched into a lesson on how to sit. "We'll start with the basics and Illéa's customs," she said, "and once you get better at it all, I'll teach you all of the ones for the countries that we interact with the most. Knowing only ours won't help you much in a diplomatic setting, but for now, it'll be useful. Oh, and make sure to practice at every meal. That's the best way to learn, after all."

I nodded. "Okay. I don't know how I'll remember all of these utensils though."

She laughed. "The utensils aren't so difficult. You'll pick it up quickly."

We began with entering the room, then moved on to sitting down and how to sit. Then came the plates, which were simple enough, followed by the ridiculous amount of forks. They weren't so difficult, and when I learned that I wouldn't use most of them for a lot of meals, it was a lot easier to handle. We were finishing with the forks when someone entered the room.

It was Alexander. He appeared significantly more disheveled than normal, his hair looking like he'd run his fingers through it several times (or perhaps like he'd just woken up). He had no jacket, vest, or tie, and the top two buttons of his white shirt were undone. His sleeves were messily rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were very awake.