What was given to the public was half a lie. As far as everyone knew, the spell the young baroness placed on Muriel was intended to be a blessing, but it turned out to be a complete failure, a piece of wet wood that couldn't be burned. So, people assumed that nothing had actually changed Muriel's body or mind at all, aside from the mark. In all fairness, the baroness really did consider the spell to be a failure.
When Vidar privately asked Muriel about it, there was a moment where she was very grateful to her mother-in-law for respecting her privacy. She didn't want everybody to start thinking of ways to use her blessing for their own means. Muriel only told her husband what the general public was allowed to know. It was a failure. The baroness had good intentions but she didn't have enough skill to complete the spell.
Muriel made a point of wearing gloves more often, even when it wasn't convenient or even typically acceptable to do so. Whenever someone mentioned the oddness, Muriel would only shrug and say she didn't understand the issue.
Vidar was blissfully unaware, or that was what Muriel hoped was the truth. When he began to notice Muriel's desire for gloves nearly every few minutes, he only gave her a packet of money to purchase even more gloves. Artair noticed the difference almost immediately. He liked to tug on her gloves' fingers as if he wanted them gone. He also tended to make pouty faces when Muriel refused to give in to him.
Muriel began a peculiar relationship with Baroness Habrena. She wouldn't call her a friend. They simply weren't close. However, Muriel made certain that whenever she could invite the baroness somewhere, she did so. The two women were seen together in public quite often. It only reinforced the idea of the blessing between them being a harmless failure. After all, if something was wrong, why would the Princess Consort be so chummy with that fairy?
Halfway into the Capital Season, Muriel was happily putting the most darling little baby dresses on Artair because he could walk with a steady gait, and it was much safer to let him follow her around in public than before. Unlike his father, Artair's extra arms didn't make fashionable clothing too difficult for him to wear. All one needed to do was put in two extra sleeves in his clothing, instead of who knows how many hypothetical sleeves Vidar might need if he tried to be fashionable. Muriel's favorite little outfit for Artair to wear around the city was a cream colored dress with a white apron and a wide-brimmed straw hat, accented with a black ribbon around the crown.
Even if Artair wasn't a strange little thing with four arms, Muriel imagined he'd still be something of a curiosity for any passers-by. He had the most angelic, cutest little face with round pink cheeks. His blue-gray eyes had long pale lashes. His smile brought an infectious joy to most. He also had quite a few words in his vocabulary, and his words were very charming. Many adults loved to ask him questions just to see how he'd answer.
Muriel was quite proud of the boy.
King Thorvaldo called Vidar to the Royal Palace again, although he didn't say why. It would've been rude for Vidar to go without taking his wife and mother along. That meant they had to cancel some of their plans and ride on to that palace.
Vidar had to leave the women while he went off alone to have his meeting with his father. Princess Arya sighed, put a dignified hand on Muriel's wrist, and led the young Princess Consort to her room so they could safely have a private time together. They sat near a window and worked on some embroidery while they patiently waited for Vidar to return.
Her face cool yet solemn, Muriel slid her needle through her fabric and asked, "Do you suppose His Majesty has a reward in store for Vidar? He's been such a loyal and well-behaved son, a fine member of the royal family."
"It's possible," Princess Arya said as she lead a pink thread through her project, "that Emil has finally ruined himself, or has at least begun to do so."
"Are you referring to that incident I swore to never mention to the public?"
Princess Arya nodded. A lock of her freshly dyed black hair bounced against her shoulder. Her expression didn't have any joy in it. In fact, there was a slight twitch in one of her eyelids. As she moved her needle up, she nearly scratched her face.
"Madam?" Muriel horizontally put her needle down on her project, pressing her index and middle fingers against its center. "Is there something wrong?"
Feeding her needle and thread through her fabric again, Princess Arya said, "Oh no, Child. Don't fret."
Muriel shrugged and pinched her needle back into her fingers.
A bit more than an hour later, Vidar knocked on the door and asked to be let in. The women put their projects away and went to that door to do what Vidar had asked.
His back was more curved than normal and his long, masked head was pointing down.
Slipping on a pair of dainty gloves, Muriel asked him, "Was your visit pleasant?"
Princess Arya closed and locked the door. "Your posture leads me to believe it was." The sarcasm was obvious.
Vidar's thick form dragged on to a chair, and he sat down. More than ever before, he honestly looked as if he was trying to comfort himself with a self-applied hug. It didn't seem to work. "It was an ordinary visit. I can't complain." His voice was stifled.
Muriel glided over to him and put one of her hands on Vidar's top set of shoulders. "We shouldn't pester you regardless. This isn't the sort of place for it."
Vidar shrugged. Then his head tilted towards her hand. A rumbling breath hissed out, blowing air against his mask for a second or more.
***
The spot under the cherry blossom tree was one of the rare places in or just outside the Royal Palace where one could rest their feet and relax. Muriel and company sat down on the benches and sipped at cups of cool water. Baron Marzel and his fairy wife approached. Muriel and company received them well. They were a colorful group full of friendly conversation.
Yet, only a few minutes after that, the friendly air was blemished by hostility. Muriel saw that source angrily limping towards them, and they all patiently waited. The brick pathway had some grooves filled with cement; the terrain wasn't perfectly smooth. So, the man had some mild difficulty. He was completely undignified.
Crown Prince Emil, purple face, creaking wooden leg, tapping cane, he was so ungainly. Even when he was standing before the group, his shoulders were uneven as his fist clamped down on his cane's handle. A few more people were nearby, watching the turn of events as they normally would, whispering to each other.
Vidar stood up and gave a light bow, but when his voice seeped out through his cloth mask, it was fearless, even a bit audacious. "What's this? What fly landed in your stew, Emil?"
Ramming his cane into the pathway in a bitter tune, Prince Emil blurted out, "What did Father discuss with you?!"
Vidar's head tilted one way, then the other. Muriel heard many, many popping noises from under his cloak. He had cracked his fingers as if he was preparing them for something. "I don't know why you'd ask such a pointless question. Have you already asked Father and found the answer lacking?"
Prince Emil's cheek jerked. His fingers drummed and scratched at his cane's handle. Muriel wouldn't have been too surprised if he managed to pop one of the jewels out of its setting. He seemed to want to lash out, but he knew he couldn't do much against Vidar.
Something rose in Muriel's heart. It was mischievous at the least and evil at the worst. She couldn't have explained the feeling even if she wanted to.
Elegantly rising from her seat, Muriel slid her gloves away and put them inside a pocket. Then she said, "Oh Vidar, it's so upsetting to see your honorable brother in a disagreeable mood." She chose a spot oddly close to Prince Emil and halted, openly smiling at his angry face. "Your Highness, won't you please calm yourself? Sit with us and have some water. Your body will react well to relaxation."
She put her palm on top of the hand that was on Prince Emil's cane, making a warm and welcoming gesture.
Prince Emil's teeth were revealed as his lips painfully curled away. He wasn't smiling.
"Too much stress can weaken even the strongest of men," Muriel continued, gripping her brother-in-law's hand and keeping her voice motherly. "Please nurse your body well. I'd hate to see you lose any more weight."
