Insurrection [On Hold]

33 A Princess Walk

                  

I hold back the grimace my feet are causing me as Josie and I enter the dining room I was in yesterday when everything when downhill. My life, though, went downhill a long time ago. On one end of the table are the generals and on the other, the royal family sits, staring at me expectantly; they're expecting me to cause a scene. Queen Elissa smiles warmly. King Kassen and his sons simply nod, while the second oldest child, Princess Geminora, simply stares.

   The servant next to the door announces us, "Princess Jocelyn Rilcoda and Princess Raksana DeMartinnet of Lumiere."

   I forgot to mention the generals' faces are all stuck up, their noses frozen a little too high. I'd like to see their faces after I kicked their nonroyal behinds.

   Josie guides me to two empty seats next to Every. She takes the one farthest from him, forcing me to sit between them.

   "Princess Raksana," the Queen smiles, "I was so surprised when Kassen told me about you."

   I smile back. "Yes, I was surprised by the warm welcome I received." My smile turns to a pointed look I direct to Jareth seated next to his mother. That marble was a cold welcoming. Marble tables don't even make sense. They're pretty, but when it comes to keeping food warm, they don't do so well. They show how vain people are.

   The food is brought out, our plates already prefilled with a strawberry pastry, eggs, and a fourth of a waffle. Juice is poured rather than wine. I'm not sure I could stomach wine after last night.

   Nate.

   Then again, maybe I could.

   I begin cutting my pastry into small pieces.

   "I don't understand Lumiere." One general, younger than most of them, sets down his drink with a haughty air. "They seem so hesitant in their attacks like they're scared they're not strong enough." The arrogant...he knows I'm here. "Yet Frey," King, "seems to flaunt his weaponry every chance he gets. Is that not a trait of cowards to demonstrate their power only to then hide behind it?"

   A boot rams into my calf. Every. I kick him back and start cutting the pastry again, only to be kicked, this time harder, once more.

   "What is wrong with you?" I whisper to Every.

   "I'm distracting you," he whispers back. "You look like you're about to toss that knife into General Corevox's eye."

   "You mean General With a Face a Mother Couldn't Even Love?"

   "Be nice..."

   I squeeze the knife tighter than I was unconsciously doing before. "He's purposefully insulting Lumiere because I'm here."

   Every tries prying the knife out of my hand. "Let me cut your food for you."

   "Are you insane? They'll think we're together."

   He sends me a sideways look. "No, they won't. A political marriage between us would never happen. You're the youngest of four daughters. The best you could do is marry a lord or in the slim chance you're in love, a duke."

    I roll my eyes. Yeah, well he's the youngest of three sons. Though he's not the youngest child out of all his siblings like I am. Plus he's male and that matters a lot in Quill. "Thanks. Now I have to marry a prince to prove you wrong."

   Now he rolls his eyes. "Good luck with that."

   "You're a royal pain."

   "It takes one to know one."