"You've become an embarrassment to the family!" her father thundered at her.
"It's my right to celebrate my pregnancy with anyone I choose," Romina replied coolly.
"That doesn't include fucking every stable boy, half-prince, and scullery maid in the palace!"
"I never fucked a scullery maid," Romina said, her voice taking a haughty superior tone. "She was a washer girl. Very pretty too."
"Look at you," he said changing the subject, unwilling to argue about the fine details of who were lovers were. "You can't go around the court dressed like that!"
Romina glanced down at herself, fully aware of what she was wearing. Her breasts had already swollen with her pregnancy so they were barely contained by the thin white silk chemise she wore to cover her torso. Not that it mattered she was wearing it at all for her bright pink nipples were clearly visible through the nearly-sheer material. Except for the translucence of the material, it was in the style currently being worn in court, beyond the fact that Romina had her seamstress split the front of the chemise exposing her swelling belly to all. Although her skin was smooth and glowing, the outward brashness of her mode of dress was the talk of the court. She had taken to wearing a more suitable bottom garment a combination of skirt and undergarment that showed off her legs and rode low enough on her abdomen to expose her entire belly. This was bad enough, her father had been nearly apoplectic when Romina had come to a court dinner wearing just the chemise and a lace groin strap that exposed her buttock and gods knew what else to everyone. Her shoes and stockings seemed to be afterthoughts, designed to stress the inadequate coverage of her other garments.
"Why not?" she asked. "There are no rules against it. And not only does the king seem to like my gowns, it seems I've started a bit of a trend among the court women."
This was true. The women's clothing had become more sparse and outright lascivious over the past few months since Romina's triumphantly pregnant return. And it was also true that the king, too old to know better, was a great admirer of Romina's new mode of dress.
"The king is nearly senile," her father retorted. "And he was easily moved by a pretty face all his life." He didn't press the issue of her role in the change of court styles.
"That's very nice, Father. You shouldn't talk about the king that way. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment." She tried to step around her father who hadn't moved from the doorway since he had entered her apartments. "You'll need to move aside, Father."
"You're embarrassing the entire family," he hissed at her. "You're carrying the child that will be forty-third in line for the throne! And you're carrying about like some common slattern selling her body on the street!"
"I'm no common slattern," she said, taking false offense. "I'm a high quality slattern carrying the child that will be forty-third in line for the throne."
"You mock me!" His face turned red with anger.
"What chance does the forty-third in line have for the throne," she shot back. "It's nothing more than a tool to keep foolish nobles in line, Father. Now step aside!"
"Going to fuck another one of your whores?" It was little more than an insult, that's what their relationship had degenerated to. "It is a boy or a girl, or doesn't it even matter to you? What about your betrothed?" He grabbed her arm to restrain her.
She shook off his sweaty fingers. "He's off fucking some new conquest, and happily I might add. And for your information, I'll be meeting with the queen tonight. Check with her secretary if you like. I'll be in her chambers if you need to discuss this further."
Showing the athleticism of a teenage dancer, instead of a very pregnant woman, Romina dodged and slipped around her father and into the hallway. He did not pursue her. She walked through the palace hallways, nodding to those she knew and recognized, ignoring those beneath her station. Presenting herself to the pair of guards at the doors to the queen's apartments, she was quickly ushered into the sitting room where the queen had created her own smaller version of the court.
Queen Sefayia had married young and married smartly. She was the second wife of King Pridias XXIV, the first having died more than twenty years ago shortly after childbirth. Sefayia had cemented her position in the royal household by marrying a man more than twice her age and then giving him a son. It didn't matter to her—or anyone else now—that she was just over forty and her husband was well into his seventies. While the king spent his time attending the affairs of state he could still comprehend, Sefayia was busy conducting her own life.
"Romina," she greeted the young princess with a kiss on each cheek and holding the girl's hands in her own. She lifted Romina's arms up to more closely examine her swelling belly; it had the secondary effect of displaying Romina's charms for the queen and the others in attendance in her small court. "I see you are looking well. Baby is growing?"
"Yes, your majesty."
"Excellent." Sefayia seated herself in the large comfortable chair that dominated the room, leaving Romina standing to be admired and ogled by the others in the room. The girl didn't mind the attention, in fact she desired it. "Do you know why I've summoned you here tonight?"
