Doe lit the candles and waited. She had once hated this room. Now she was merely indifferent to it. It was large, even for this castle. On one side of the room was a grand four poster bed, and opposite was a balcony that overlooked the square below. It was a room set for royalty.
Etiquette and decorum were the hallmarks of a good queen, and though a queen Doe was yet to be, it had been on her eighteenth birthday that duty dictated it was time she learnt the ways of the crown. There was once a time when she would resent the lessons. But she had quickly come to enjoy them, even if she felt she had better things to do. And as she had grown, she had realised her mother was, as much as she hated the fact, right after all. Diplomacy was an all-powerful tool when it came to dealing with people of influence, and when your family ruled the kingdom, it was more often than not people of influence that had to be dealt with.
She was just preparing for the lesson ahead when she heard the footsteps coming down the corridor, and a nervous knock at the door.
"Come in," she said.
The door opened. Sir Elinor was her usual teacher, but standing before her tonight was a knight she did not recognise.
"You're not my usual teacher," she grumbled.
"Sir Elinor is busy tonight, Ma'am," he said.
"Busy? What could he be doing that is more important than serving the princess?"
"I did not enquire, Ma'am."
"You know you didn't need to come. I do this every day, and have done since I was eighteen. I could have had just one day off."
"I'm afraid the Queen was most insistent, Ma'am, she said it's-"
"-Most important for me to learn the arts of the diplomat. Yes, yes, I know."
"Your mother went through this just as you are doing, Ma'am."
"As everybody keeps reminding me. She could have at least found me a reliable teacher. First Sir Molgrim, then Dagan, then Thomas, then Molgrim again. They kept forgetting what each other did with me. Elinor was the only real teacher I had, and now even he's got better things to do."
"I've been assured he'll be back shortly, Ma'am."
"And I guess in the meantime I shall have to make do with you, shall I?"
"Indeed, Ma'am."
She eyed him up and down and scowled. "You don't look like a good teacher."
"I'm sorry, Ma'am. Hopefully looks will be deceiving."
"Umm-hmmm," Doe said with scepticism. It was improper to argue. It was improper to be sarcastic. But despite her lessons, Doe had never let herself be rid of her cynicism. "I think you're in for a run for your money, Sir..." she let the sentence hang.
"Alfred. Sir Alfred, Ma'am."
"Well, Alfred, I suppose we'd better get started then, had we?" she sighed.
"Unless there's anything else, Ma'am."
"You can stop calling me Ma'am!"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Let's just get this over with."
Doe stood and untied the chord of her nightie. It was a single piece, and designed for removal at a second's notice. Her mother often made her liaise with the royal tailor and dress-fitter, who more often than not presented Doe with garments of lace and sequins so unnecessarily complex that she wouldn't have known where to start. This nightie was simple. A quick pull of the chord, and they could get started.