I'd been to countless soirées, fetes, balls, and other gatherings throughout my life, attended by the most powerful and discerning people in the kingdom. None of them had ever inspired as much fear as my afternoon picnic with Natalia.
The difference was one of stakes. At those fancy events, I could (and often did) make a fool of myself, throw a fit, or otherwise ruin things without changing how anyone saw me. Bad behavior was expected from me; I was the designated royal brat.
But with Natalia, those same rules no longer applied. She didn't ignore me--my words and actions impacted her, and so doing something wrong could have permanent consequences. And unlike with all the nobles and courtiers, for some stupid reason I found myself
caring
about her feelings and
wanting
her to like me.
Which was terrifying.
What if I made a mistake and Natalia grew to hate me? What if I wasn't exciting enough for her and she lost interest? I had a rare opportunity--someone who actually
wanted
to be around me--and if I blew it, Goddess only knew when I'd get another. No. I wouldn't allow that to happen.
There would be no mistakes. This picnic, and by extension me, would be exactly what Natalia wanted and more. The responsibility of maintaining perfection was a heavy burden, but it was better than the alternative.
It also made choosing an outfit impossible.
I'd pored over racks and racks of clothes, searching for the perfect ensemble--something flattering but not obscene, bright but not gaudy, mature but not dull...something that actually worked well on my narrow figure instead of making me look like a scarecrow. Something that excited Natalia's interest without offending her sensibilities.
With such a stringent set of standards, my search bore little fruit even as it grew more frenetic and desperate. Unfit frocks were flung away. Passé petticoats were pushed aside. Crude corsets were cast into the depths of cabinets. Eventually, overwhelmed and discouraged, I collapsed onto the floor with a defeated moan.
Nothing
looked good.
"Do you need assistance, my Princess?" asked Thea, one of my ladies-in-waiting, from behind me. The small blonde had been hand-picked by my mother years ago thanks to her uncanny ability to avoid participating in or becoming the victim of my schemes. Striking such a delicate balance usually involved staying out of my way, and so we were on cordial terms.
I tentatively lifted my head from my hands, mind still abuzz with caveats and considerations. "Do...do you know what Natalia thinks about court fashions this season? Specifically outdoor wear?" My knowledge of fashion trends had mostly been passively absorbed--I'd always tried to stay above such trifles--but if it could provide inspiration, I had no qualms putting it to use.
Thea hesitated for a moment before responding. "I'm not sure the Princess-consort keeps up-to-date on such things, Princess Penelope. She's spent very little time in court." She watched me carefully, trying to read my emotional state. "If you like, I can ask her..."
"And make me look desperate to please? No. Absolutely not." I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. "Forget the trends, then. They all look wretched on me anyway."
Thea's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Would you like my opinion, Princess?"
I waved a hand at her permissively, slowly rising back to a seated position.
"Simpler might be better, given the informal setting and the Princess-consort's unfamiliarity with the intricacies of dress."
I frowned at a lavish ruby-red ball gown. The thought had occurred to me previously, but I'd worried Natalia would see it as an insult--me saying she wasn't worth extravagance. Alternatively, maybe this whole outing was a test, and simple clothing would fail to meet her standards. "Isn't that too obvious an answer, though? It feels like what she'd want me to think."
"I...do not believe she is trying to trick you, my Princess."
Oh. Right. This was the woman mother had chosen to marry me specifically because she
avoided
subterfuge and intrigue.
"You're probably right." I sighed and stood up, surveying my empire of fabric while tapping a finger against my chin. Simple. Simple and cute. "Perhaps...remember the outfit I wore to the stag hunt last year? The breeches underneath the nice white dress with the short skirt?"
Thea furrowed her brow. "Was that the year where you kept threatening Princess Bethany with your bow?"
"No, that was two years ago. Last year was when I kept blowing a whistle to scare off all the prey." With good reason; I'd been protesting Carmen's decision to move away for the sake of her ecclesiastical duties. My family had made me return to the palace after the third whistle-blowing incident.
"Ah, yes! I remember now." Thea stepped forward past the chaos I'd created to effortlessly retrieve the outfit in question. "Here we are."
I stepped back and circled it like a wild predator, studying it from multiple angles. No immediate flaws jumped out at me. "It's a good start." I snapped my fingers. "Oh! I can also wear those cream gloves with the little bows on the forearms. And the coral necklace I stole from Janice. And obviously, we'll have to braid my hair. Could probably do with a bath as well..."
***
The toe of my boot tapped against the stone floor of the kitchens, echoing ever-so-slightly. With the picnic rapidly approaching, my earlier jitters had intensified into a full-body anxious thrumming. Standing around waiting certainly didn't help, but I was terrified of choosing the wrong menu and had therefore hung around the kitchens for over an hour.
One of the cooks emerged from the manor's larder, red in the face and out of breath. The older woman presented me with a plate of small samples. "Braised mushrooms, boar in sour plum sauce, and steamed barley with herbs, if your Princess pleases."
"Right." I plucked a fork from the counter beside me and took a single bite of each. A glimmer of hope shone in the cook's eye as she watched me eat--hope that I wouldn't change my mind for a fourth time and have her go make something else.
The flavors were strong and pleasant, if a bit basic, and seemed to mesh well together. Still... "Do you think it's too woodsy? I don't want to come off like I'm pandering to her."
The cook shook her head emphatically. "Not too woodsy at all, Princess Penelope. A perfect fit for the afternoon's outing, if I do say so myself."
"And will this travel well?"
"Perfectly well, Princess."
"...and you think she'll like it?" My voice came out quiet, nearly a whisper.
"I do. And I know she'll be flattered by how much thought you put into it." She was probably just saying that.
It still made me feel a little better.
"Okay." I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to remember any last details. "And we have a good wine pairing?"
"Several, my Princess. Would you like to choose?" The cook's voice was brimming with relief. She set her tray down on the table and massaged her tired hands.
"I trust your judgment. Oh, and add a cheese course as well--but hide it in a corner of the basket." I wasn't sure if Natalia liked cheese or not, so I'd decided to casually ask at some point during lunch and then choose whether or not to reveal the cheese course based on her answer. A classic gambit.
The cook suppressed a chuckle. "Hidden cheese. Yes. Right away, Princess Penelope. Very wise of you."
***
"You're certain the horses are well behaved?" My arms were crossed in front of my chest as I addressed the carriage driver, a stocky man who seemed vaguely baffled by me.
"Uh, yeah. Good as they come, Princess. Got the boys in the stables treating them real nice." He stuck his thumbs into the pockets of his trousers.
I cocked my head to one side. "Not too nice, I hope."
All the necessary preparations had already been made, leaving me roiling with anxiety but unable to channel it into anything productive--hence my granular interrogation. Even as I recognized the stupidity of my questions, a small part of me still believed they were absolutely necessary; what if I didn't ask about the horses, and they turned out to be total menaces who ruined everything and made Natalia stop speaking to me? What if our only chance at genuine connection was interrupted by the carriage running over a hole in the road and causing us to bump our heads? What if--
"Uh. Not too nice or too...not nice. The perfect amount of nice for making a good horse. My Princess."
"Excellent." A dilemma presented itself: I didn't have any more questions, but if I ended the conversation I'd be alone with my neuroses. I'd tried that earlier, and had ended up standing in my bedroom wondering if I was destined to always push everyone away and be miserable. Inane questions about horses were infinitely preferable to
that
. "What do you feed them?"
As the driver provided a detailed accounting of his horses' diets, my mind drifted. The wandering thoughts weren't his fault--he seemed perfectly pleasant--but rather indicated the folly of trying to distract myself. No matter where I placed my conscious attention, my subconscious remained entirely focused on what was to come. My palms were slick with sweat. My mouth was dry. My stomach spun and tumbled about restlessly.
"...and sometimes we give them apples and carrots if they've been good and the kitchens have extra."
"Seems appropriate." I nodded absently.
"Yes, my Princess. It makes them big and strong." The carriage driver coughed politely into his hand. "Was there anything else? Otherwise, we can prepare to set off."
Last chance to procrastinate. "Remind me of your name?"
"Arnold, Princess. Arnold Layne."
"Thank you, Arnold." There was no point in delaying any longer. I made for the manor.
***
Four hours after Natalia offered to spend time with me, I descended the staircase of the manor's front hall to meet her. My gloved fingers slid across the smooth, varnished surface of the banister as I held my head high and puffed out my chest, presenting myself to the world.
