She was woken up by Audric scratching the bathroom door, and sluggishly climbed out of the bath. Her smell was now elevated to that of a lady from the junior nobility due to Von Schmidt’s somewhat modest choice of produits de beauté. Hanging on the wall, the Princess found a white towel and a nightgown bearing the Von Schmidt insignia and the mark of a French fashion house unknown to her. She slipped it on and stepped outside. Martina was standing in nearly the same position as she had been when the Princess last saw her.

“My sincerest apologies for this homely garment, mein fraulein. Von Schmidt, being a bachelor devoted to arcane pursuits, does not possess a wardrobe suitable for your station or sex. Thus, I have endeavored to borrow a nightgown from the parlor maids’ closet. I did not mean to offend. If you’d like me to ask the Marseille siblings for—”

“Oh, it’s quite all right, my dear!” the Princess assured the maid, forcing herself to produce a haughty smile of non-threatening superiority. “It looks perfectly serviceable, though frankly I did expect something more luxurious from my kidnapper.”

“Herr Von Schmidt says that everything should be done in moderation, even excess. Träum süss, meine Prinzessin.” Martina turned off the lights with a hand gesture, sat on the stool opposing the bed. Audric hopped on her knees, his beady eyes glistened teasingly in the dim light.

“Are you going to sit like this all night?” the Princess asked, not quite content with the arrangement. “Are you to be my stalwart defender? You are rather ill-equipped for guard duty, I should think, not to mention the blow you must deal to my poor ferret’s ego, who is even less equipped for it than you are, if one is perfectly honest.”

Martina blushed. “The servants’ quarters are too far away to wait on you, mein fraulein.”

“This bed has more than sufficient room for two women and a ferret, or five women and ten ferrets, my father’s entire board of Tlatoni-directors, a senate of ferrets, or whatever form of political organization the little buggers prefer. Oh, don’t look so terrified, my dear! Audric never bites sleeping strangers. No, the little rascal reserves this treatment for my royal person alone. Why, he is the very embodiment of lèse-majesté, only he’s far too adorable to behead. In any case, the point that I’m somewhat circuitously trying to get across is that you’re perfectly safe in his company, I’m sure!”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience your …” Martina said uneasily.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all! Pick up the little beastie and hop right in.” The Princess tapped on the bed, as if to indicate the specific location on which Martina was to hop.

Martina undressed, laying her uniform neatly on the stool. Underneath her uniform, she wore the exact same nightgown as the Princess. Martina carefully and rigidly lay on the edge of the bed, not bothering with the luxurious covers and stared at the ceiling. The Princess rolled to squeeze against the warm body, tightly holding onto the maid with one arm and one leg. She mumbled something about matching outfits into the sheet of smooth hair that smelled of lavender in which her face was now buried and drifted into sleep.

Audric, approving of the arrangement, took his traditional vigil at the Princess’s feet and started his watch for the night. Truth was, he was never too keen to rest in the Princess’s embrace as she had the annoying habit of chewing on his ears in her sleep. Due to her inability to speak Ferret, he had no way of informing her of this unladylike behavior. There was a time he tried to communicate his intentions by chewing on her ear as she slept, but this earned him nothing but slaps and pinches. Thus, he learned to rest at her feet, always keeping one eye open for drones, assassins, vermin, and innocent servants. He could trust no one else with this duty—her guards may have been genetically modified space marines, but they were no Audrics. Even in sleep, he was more alert and quick to react than the whole clamoring lot of them.

The light snores of his mistress were the most pleasing sound in the world, there was no doubt about it. He was, of course, a little jealous of someone else guarding the Princess in her sleep, even unconsciously, but this was an unworthy thought of a beast as pedigreed as himself.

After all, if he could play with other pets in his spare time, why couldn’t the Princess do the same? Having resolved all moral dilemmas that could disturb his repose, the ferret covered his eye with his luxurious tail and quickly joined the two women in slumber.

The Princess woke up with the feeling she was in her own bed back in her father’s palace. Her guts sank as the first object she spotted after rubbing the sand of sleep from her eyes was Von Schmidt’s crest above the bed. Martina sat rigidly on a stool, already fully dressed. Audric was curled on her lap.

The Princess yawned and stretched. “You’re a quiet girl,” she commented. “I didn’t feel a stir all night.”

“This is very kind of you to say, mein fraulein, but I doubt even another invasion would have broken your sleep. I hope you will forgive my presumption, but I have been contemplating your situation all morning and would like to make a few suggestions if I may.”

“Do you mean me being stranded here with your lunatic master and his insidious accomplices?”

“Oh no, these are far beyond my qualification, as well as a considerable conflict of interest. I meant your wardrobe situation, a field in which I believe I possess an adequate degree of competence, both from technical and aesthetical perspectives.”

It was said it was easier to conquer a planet than to dress a Princess, but there was no harm in hearing out whatever ideas Martina came up with. “By all means, carry on.”

“Well, your present situation requires a delicate balance between the dictates of fashion and the necessities of security. Keeping this in mind, I believe you can forgo donning your armor today. You will again forgive me for my presumption, but I am under the impression you’re desirous to get rid of the apparatus. It does not become one with your exquisite figure or sense of style and is indeed more suitable for the battlefield or the wilderness of space than for the palace of a gentleman of means.”

“This is very kind of you to say. However, do you think that yesterday was sufficiently traumatic to have this band of degenerates swear off their vile ways? For all its drawbacks, the armor did work well as an obstacle for their base ambitions.”

Martina shook her head. “I am afraid my master’s guests are rather set in their ways. However, compared to the protective capacities of the anti-kinetic field generated by your shield, the presence of your armor or lack thereof makes little difference. The only contribution of the armor is a loud clanking noise that accompanies your movement.”

“True, true …” the Princess contemplated. “However, the armor also contains the batteries to my shield. Furthermore, it can supply me with oxygen in case of an emergency. The escape velocity of this planetoid is frightfully low, don’t you know. Then there are the magnetic boots, the jet engine, the scanners, Audric’s nest, some personal effects, et cetera, et cetera …”

“You are correct, mein fraulein, but the battery can easily be attached to any clothing you may choose to wear. In fact, I believe most members of your family traditionally conceal it in their feather crowns. Begging your forgiveness, I can’t foresee any circumstances in which you’ll be hurled into space from the surface of the planetoid, which is the only situation requiring a full suit of armor. Regarding the other devices, if you’d endeavor to prepare a list of vital items, I will research it and produce covert and overt ways to attach them to your uniform.”

“Very well. I suppose I could wear my dress uniform in that case. Is it still here?”

“It is. I have taken the liberty of washing, polishing, and aromatizing it while you were in repose. I have also connected the shield to your belt and concealed the battery inside your baldric.”

“Why, you’re a veritable Jeeves, Martina!” the Princess exclaimed. “If this misadventure turns out well for me, perhaps you’d consider coming back with me to serve as a personal handmaiden. I hear Greeks make terrible servants. I am engaged to a Greek prince, you know.”

“‘I endeavor to give satisfaction,’” Martina said in poor archaic English. “However, begging your pardon, mein fraulein, while it is my desire to do my duty by my lady to the best of my ability, I am my master’s creation and will not leave his side for as long as he lives.”

“Yes,” the Princess agreed. “For as long as he lives.”