Curia Dolum (part 3)

by Marcella Haddad

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            “These ridiculous pins will never come out.”

            “That’s what I thought!” Denidre said, grinning widely. She had only spent minutes with this serving girl half her age, but Tenmar was proving to be more witty and intellectual than any of the lords or entertainers she had yet met.

            “Oh dear…I suppose you wanted them intact.”

            Tenmar held a piece of a pin with the feather part broken off in front of Denidre’s face, showing her how it had snapped in two.

            Denidre simply laughed and took the broken pin from Tenmar, tossing it onto the vanity in front of her. “Don’t worry. The agreements are going well, I hear—that always means a large sum of money for me by way of father.”

            Tenmar continued to work her hair, twisting it out of its curls and knots. “Agreements?”

            “For the treaty.” Denidre looked into the mirror. “That’s why I’m here. Though I expect to be staying long, for even after the treaty is signed there will be an embassy who remains to ensure that both sides keep the peace.” She let out a small sigh, for a moment allowing the serving girl to catch a glimpse of her inner conflict. “That’s usually me.”

            Tenmar let down Denidre’s hair at last, and then began brushing it slowly, looking at the mirror, deep in thought.

            “It doesn’t sound so bad,” She mused, fingering the dark brown curls. “To travel so much…to meet so many young lords…” She giggled again, and Denidre smiled at her innocence.

            If only she could find that much joy in her work.

                                                            <*>

            Jotorin woke the morning after the feast with a splitting headache. He groaned as he threw off the bed sheets and made a run for the lavatory before he spilled his stomach’s contents.

            Sinking back onto the mattress and wiping his mouth, he reflected on the dismal events of last night. He had felt like some kind of animal, a golden songbird put on display for all of the lavishly dressed lords and ladies, and the amount of wine he had consumed had barely numbed his stabbing uninterest.

            At least back at his castle he could sulk in his room without being scolded.

            But no, here he had to make an appearance. Here he was the prince, the observed, the whispered about. The one everyone talked about but no one talked to.

            He groaned as he stood up again, staggeringly making his way to the trunk with his still unpacked clothing. He had been here for almost a week, but he couldn’t bring himself to call a servant to put his things away—it made everything seem so permanent.

            He found a simple white shirt and threw it over his head. He had no time for proper dress now, not that he needed it. He only wanted to escape to the kitchens for a few minutes to obtain some real food, before he was subjected again to that mud they called delicacies. And then to the stables, before he was subjected to that boredom they called entertainment.

            He opened the door and turned around before he walked out, regarding the unfamiliar surroundings.

            Yes, he would definitely try to get out of this place as soon as possible.