Frog Meets Girl

Chapter 2--A Birthday to Remember

             “How selfish of you, Gabriella. All my planning, all those diplomatic negotiations, the entire expense of that party could have been wasted because of your silly little tantrum!" King Dady jabbed his large forefinger into his large desk with each word.

"How is the French Ambassador supposed to give a report to his King about the future leadership of this kingdom and the advantage of having his daughter marry your brother if Claudio is off coddling your outburst the whole night? What is he supposed to think about the noble blood we carry when my own daughter refuses to interact with anyone and is caught skulking alone in the bushes more than once?"

Gabriella listened without moving while he waxed eloquent with rhetorical questions.

King Daddy continued, "It hardly inspires confidence in our mental soundness, especially considering your Grandmama Queen Bernice and the condition she had. Furthermore, how on earth are we supposed to get you married?”

            King Daddy’s dark whiskers with their first signs of gray were immaculately groomed as always. In contrast, his face was red again and spittle dotted the parchment papers open in front of him on his desk. He’d been working himself into this lecture for the last 15 minutes, or that was as closely as she could calculate by the movement of the sunlight streaming in from the window as it crawled across the floor of his chamber. His tall, lean Minister of Diplomatic Relations hovered a few feet away with a scroll folded in his hands, nodding at everything King Daddy said.

            Gabriella looked down at her hands. By all accounts, they were the prettiest hands in the kingdom, and as far as she could tell, it was because she’d never done a useful thing with them.

            “This sort of behavior has to stop, young lady!” King Daddy continued, changing things up by actually brandishing his finger at her this time. “It’s high time that you stop embarrassing this family and start acting according to the rules of decorum.

“The Queen Mama and I have done everything we can think of. We’ve hired tutors in Latin, Greek, French, and even that barbaric English language. We paid that prancing ninny to teach you to dance with grace. You can embroider, sing, and paint. Yet, as we empty the royal coffers to educate you, you have yet to show any superiority of mind, any extraordinary manners, or even basic civility. For all your superior birth, you are an utter failure as a young woman as long as you continue to offend in conversation and manner.” He paused before delivering his final jab, “Sometimes I wonder if you’re even our daughter.”

She could feel her eyes prickling at the edges and her view of the golden embroidery on her emerald gown began to look watery. 

He continued, “We have one last chance to make a good impression on the French ambassador, and if you make another display such as the one last night, so help me, I’ll build a tower in Germany and have you locked up for the rest of your life. Do you hear me?”

This time, he clearly expected a response. “Yes, Daddy,” she muttered.

“Go do something useful like re-reading Il Cortegiano until the banquet is ready. Maybe you’ll be capable of captivating matters by then.” He looked back down at the parchment on his desk and picked up his quill.

Princess Gabrielle knew she was dismissed. She walked as demurely as she could through the towering wooden door back into the coolness of the hall. A single tear began to trickle down her cheek, which she quickly dabbed away with her lacy handkerchief.

She could hear the Minister of Diplomatic Relations congratulating King Daddy on things well said. As she stalked down the corridor, after she was out of sight, she fantasized about all the things she’d like to do to wipe the smirk off his face.