For the next two years, Mary barely saw Nicholas. He was training to be her knight, and the only reason she saw him at all towards the end was the fact that he was to protect her and her alone.
Those two years, she thought, were the worst years of her life. She only talked to the servants occasionally, and they were afraid to speak too much to her. George had hammered down on this rule. He didn’t want Mary getting too close to anyone else.
On her sixteenth birthday, Nicholas’s training was officially over, and he was knighted in front of her. She was grinning so widely that it was hard for even him to keep a straight face. If he had to admit it, he’d missed her too.
She knew the rules, so when she hugged him after everyone else left, she wasn’t surprised when he didn’t hug her back, but stood there stiffly, his arms rigidly at his sides.
Mary backed away, looking at him, and then kissed his cheek, just like she had two years ago, skipping off again, the bounce back in her step. Maybe sixteen was too old for skipping, but she took joy in whatever she could.
Nicholas, baffled as ever, followed her as was his new job. She was practically running, dashing from hallway to hallway, and he was just glad his legs were longer than hers so walking fast worked.
She finally stopped at her room, and, turning back to flash him a grin, she darted inside, closing the door behind her. He stood outside, back stiffly straight, forcing himself not to think of anything complicated.
When she reappeared a few minutes later, she was slightly breathless, her hair slipping loose from its bun. She held out a small package wrapped in brown paper, beaming proudly, and Nicholas looked down at it and then up at her blankly.
“It’s for you,” she explained. “For, you know, being my friend and all.”
Unsure of what to do, Nicholas just stared from her to the package, from the package to her, and, sighing, she seemed to get it, unwrapping the gift herself.
It was a plain, silver ring, gleaming in the center of the dull paper, and before he could protest or say anything really, she had ripped off his gray glove and was sliding it onto his finger. Her hands were light and delicate and covered in white gloves, but Nicholas felt as if every place she touched him seared with the heat of her skin and he quickly pushed the thoughts away. She tried to shove the glove back onto his hand, but it didn’t work, so he pulled it on himself and just in time, too, for at that moment, there were footsteps thundering down the hallway.
Nicholas thought it was funny how even his footsteps sounded important and regal, like they knew who they belonged to and wanted to make sure everyone else knew it, too.
The transformation on Mary’s face was instantaneous. She stiffened, her expression hardening, her eyes freezing over into a cold glare. The ring’s packaging crinkled up in her hand as they both curled into fists. Tiny fists, Nicholas observed, his eyes flickering down for just a moment before the King stepped into their view.
King George walked up to Mary, his posture stiff as well, but he wasn’t angry. He looked almost uncomfortable, though Nicholas couldn’t tell for sure.
“Dinner is at six tonight,” he informed her, voice as booming as his footsteps.
She refused to meet his gaze, her blue eyes glowering off to the side. Nicholas almost felt bad for the wall her frigid stare was directed at.
King George stood there for a moment, gazing at his daughter, regret flashing in his eyes. The tension was tangible, and Nicholas was just wishing he’d leave when he added suddenly, “And there’s going to be someone there I’d like you to meet.”
