The False Princess

The False Princess Chapter 9

So the new pattern for her days was set. In the morning Demetria rode with Kallia, then returned to the castle where she was tutored by Lorayna for several hours before lunch, where Kallia hounded her relentlessly over her manners. Then, in the afternoon, Lorayna and Kallia would take turns reading and lecturing her on the histories of Galstai, Drestin and Remur. That was followed by Demetria's least favorite time of all, lessons on the curtsies, dances, and other movements a baron's daughter would be expected to know.

The curtsy she gave to a baron differed from that she should give to a prince, and there were even more specific rules for meeting a consort or a ruler. That was bad enough, but she could not get the rhythm of the dances down at all. She tripped over her own feet or skipped steps almost constantly, and all of Kallia's patience yielded no results.

The other thing that made it so insufferable was the continued presence of Hanna and Muria. Since it was dancing, they often had to help play the part of her partners, and so Demetria's humiliation was on display for them at all times.

Kallia was a relentless, if kind, teacher, and day after day she drove Demetria almost without halt. Yet she never allowed a single mistake to go unnoticed, and Demetria's frustration slowly built with each misstep, each mistake, each clumsy error.

Demetria clung to Kallia's words of encouragement from their first ride as the end of the first week drew near and her failures continued. But as the second week dragged on, her frustration grew ever deeper.

Her riding improved, as did her tolerance for the wine, so the mornings became somewhat more pleasant and more enjoyable. But that meant that after that brief pleasure, the rest of the day was that much more hateful.

On the third day of the second week, she bent a spoon in her hand as she gripped it with rage while Kallia corrected her for taking the wrong one.

Her anger had not cooled as the afternoon dragged on, and the dance lesson was the worst yet. Demetria could not go more than two steps without making a mistake, and it was so bad that Kallia actually stopped the lesson halfway through.

"That's enough," she said tightly. "Hanna, Muria, out."

Demetria turned her back on them, facing the window as they left. She was nearly trembling with rage and frustration, and the pitying looks that the maids threw at her as they left only made things worse.

If she failed, Demetria knew it would all be lost. Any protection she hoped to get from the baron for her father would be gone, and already it might be too late, especially if the Reeve had found a way out of helping her father. Something in her chest clicked, and the fire went out of her, leaving only cold, raging despair.

"I cannot do it," she said. Her voice was soft, but she could feel the anger in her chest pulsing behind it. "Perhaps it would be better for you to give up this scheme. Or find someone else to laugh at."

"I don't have that option." Kallia answered, her voice just as cold. "If you give up now, then we are truly in trouble. How do you think Kylian and Drestin will respond when we tell them we've broken off our end of the treaty?"

"Then what do you want?" Demetria snapped. "I am doing everything you asked, but I cannot grow wings and fly. I cannot turn into a mule and pull a plow, and I cannot learn these fucking steps." Her voice rose until she was shouting the last few words.

In the silence that followed, she realized what she was doing, and the blood drained from her face. She was shouting at an emissary of the queen, at a woman who held her life and her family's in her hand.

"I will be back in a short time," Kallia said softly. "I suggest you take the opportunity to regain control of yourself. There are worse things than being a poor farm girl." With that, she turned and strode to the door, pulling it shut with a boom that echoed through the stone walls.

Demetria staggered to the wall and slid down, gripping her knees, and began to sob.