What were you thinking? You cannot even blame this on the drink - you were completely sober! Did you really think she would receive your affections without thinking you a fool? She would be right to think so! You ARE a fool!
Rafe sat on his small bed with his head in his hands, berating himself and imagining the look of pity that must have registered on the Princess' face as he left the hall an hour ago. As he conjured up the image, his fingers clutched his hair on either side of his temple and he felt an overwhelming desire to rip it out, as though that would somehow tear out his shame at the root. He groaned at the realization that nothing he did would ever quell the shame he felt. He was nauseated that she now knew those drawings were of HER - those horribly shameful and vulgar drawings! Why did he ever put the stylus to paper and make real the images that swirled in his head when he was alone in bed at night?! Now, they were tangible things out there in the world... things that SHE saw and now knew about! They were incriminating proof of his ridiculous yearning... a craving so laughable, so feeble, so IDIOTIC... but God knew he could not help it! He had been admiring her from a distance for so many months and she had fast become the subject of his most private, lurid fantasies. He had allowed himself to indulge in them so often that it wasn't long before she had become the sole object of his desire, and he could not help but compare every woman he met to her. He had become completely disinterested in courting anyone, for his lust for her completely blinded him from seeing the virtues of any other woman that showed him interest.
You are sick, and you have now revealed your sickness to her. You must leave this place at once, there's no recovering from the shame you have brought down upon yourself. Even if she takes pity on you - which is worse than her scorn - the humiliation of having to perform in front of her and her father, the King - let us not forget THAT! - and to even TRY to pretend you don't want her is too much to bear.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his chamber door.
"Mister Rafe Andrion de Beauchamp?" said a man's voice on the other side of the door. "Is this the chamber of one Rafe Andrion de Beauchamp?"
"Yes, one moment please." He leapt off his bed, hurriedly put on a dress shirt, and opened the door.
"You are Rafe Andrion de Beauchamp?" asked a very well-dressed, rotund old man in his autumn years.
"Yes Sir," Rafe said.
"I am here to collect you for your scheduled music lesson for Princess Eudora," the old man stated matter-of-factly.
Rafe was positive he had heard the man wrong. "I'm sorry, can you please repeat that Sir?"
"Your appointment with Princess Eudora for her music lesson." The old man raised his eyebrows and lowered his head.
Rafe did not understand, he hadn't made any appointments to tutor students in several weeks, and he had CERTAINLY not made any appointments to tutor HER. He felt his pulse quicken and panic begin to set in.
The old man read the look of panic on the young man's face. "You DO remember having made this arrangement." It was not a question, but a statement... a warning. Something unspoken silently passed between the two men, and Rafe understood that his recollection was of no consequence. This was a royal request and one simply did NOT make the mistake of failing to fulfill the request of a member of the royal household.
"Yes - yes, I do remember now. Allow me to... gather my lesson materials and I will come with you at once." Dread overcame him. Not knowing which instrument was even to be the subject of this purported lesson, Rafe grabbed a handful of books and instructional materials and shoved them into his rucksack, hoping that at least one of them would be appropriate for the task that lie ahead of him. Rafe closed his door behind him, and the old man escorted him to a horse and carriage waiting outside. The old man signaled to Rafe to climb aboard.
Once seated, Rafe broke out into a sweat. He felt his stomach drop and he felt an overwhelming urge to flee into the nearby forest. But he could not. That would be a breach of contract... had he ever signed a contract, which he hadn't! He couldn't think straight with all of the blood pumping through his ears.
It felt like seconds before they arrived at the castle gates. He exited the carriage and followed the old man down a dizzying labyrinth of halls. All told, he felt quite disoriented, physically and mentally. Before he knew where he was, the old man was knocking on a large door, saying, "Your Grace, your music tutor has arrived."
"Thank you, you may enter," said a woman's voice on the other side of the door.
The old man swiftly opened the door before Rafe felt composed and prepared to face her, but there she was, all of a sudden standing mere feet in front of him. He realized he was at the door of Eudora's private chambers.
"Your Grace," Rafe exhaled, and knelt down on one knee, eyes fixed on her chamber floor.
"You may leave us," Eudora said to the old man. He nodded and closed the door.
Eudora stayed in place and let several moments pass by. Finally, she said, "You may rise."
Rafe stood up slowly, afraid to meet her gaze. He continued to look at the floor until she spoke.
