The day was somehow a bit overcast, but it felt better to Chammielle than a blisteringly bright day. Her head felt a little fuzzy and she suspected the whiskey bon bons she'd made had something to do with that. They sat beside her bed that morning, in a box with a bow wrapped around. She didn't remember finishing them up, so she didn't feel right taking credit for making them. She didn't remember a lot about them actually.

They were at a grand little table, covered in a white cloth and a large arrangement of gladiolas and daffodils. The chairs were soft but Chammielle wasn't finding hers so even in the light breeze under the tented awning overlooking the fighters' circle. The girls sat round about as the Prince came out to the training grounds.

"Lady Aconia, would you do me the honor of bringing my sword?"

Ammorettallia beamed brightly, and it gave Chammielle a headache just looking at her.

"It will be my pleasure, your highness."

She sipped her tea, unable to look at the two of them.

The light throbbing in her temples was barely assuaged by the floral tea infused with white willow bark. Belladonna stood behind her and had made sure she received her own special pot. Whatever had happened last night, she knew. The thought both comforted and frightened her.

At least she would keep a secret well.

She'd made the bon bons for Lady Aconia for when she wasn't chosen for the afternoon stroll, but having them seemed to be burning a hole in her stomach. Her breakfast this morning had been light and unsatisfying. She wanted to be sure they tasted alright. Quietly she slipped one out and hid it behind her teacup. Not that it mattered, everyone was looking at the Prince anyway.

The chocolate was perfect. The hint of whiskey in the filling was warming and smoothe, but she couldn't remember the flavor. It was excellent though, and she finished it quickly and washed it down with tea so her teeth would not be stained. She wanted another one immediately after when she saw Lady Aconia hand off the sword so sweetly and even flirtatiously touched the Prince's forearm.

"Thank you."

Ammorettallia came back with a light and gracious look on her face. She did look perfect. She was delicate in all the right places, and her contrasting features added drama to her looks. For the first time she felt like she hated her.

The downed her tea and let it scald her throat. She couldn't think like that. Belladonna stepped forward and refilled her cup.

She was about to down the second teacup full when she spied her freckles on her arm. They'd darkened slightly from being in the sun after her bath. She'd normally have thought to go and get some cream to lighten them again, but for some reason she gazed at them with a new feeling. They seemed playful. They looked like someone had taken a pen and dotted them on with care and a bit of whimsy. It made her smile.

I am beautiful, I am intelligent, I am strong, I am worthy.

She glanced around at the other young women and saw their porcelain, buff, and olive skin. Many different tones of a peaches and cream complexion. All different. But none so different than herself. She stood out.

For the first time, she didn't feel like that was such a bad thing.

The match began and all the ladies watched in twittering amazement as the Prince and his knight dueled. The swords parried and clanged against each other. They were not rapiers, but sabers. Very sharp and perhaps deadly even in unaccustomed hands. No, definitely deadly. And especially in the hands of someone who didn't know what they were doing. It captivated the senses to watch the two show off their expertise. The dust kicked up from the ground and their swift movements drew the eye.

"Oh! So gallant!"

"He is so masterful!"

"Look at his form, he is absolutely perfect!"

Chammielle was looking. And she had to agree. The knight obviously was more vigorous, but the Prince had raw talent paired with excellent training. Still, they were nearly evenly matched. It seemed the winner would be whoever had the most stamina. She suspected they wouldn't go that far.

The fight lasted several minutes more, and Chammielle watched as the Prince began to breathe through his nose a bit deeper, his lips more than pursed in a firm line were nearly sucked into his mouth to prevent him from gritting his teeth. The knight was breathing through his mouth and even grunted at times. But the knight was stronger. He swung and the Prince ducked with ease.

"How strong they are!"

She watched them, and felt her headache go away. Prince William turned the tide and reoriented the battle so that the Knight's back was to them. She saw his serious eyes and sucked in a breath.

Her hand went to her shoulder of its own volition and she startled herself.

"Are you alright, my lady?"

Belladonna whispered in her ear and she calmed herself. Too many people were around. She needed to behave properly. She set her hand in her lap and pretended to be enjoying the match as much as the other young women.

"I don't know... Belladonna, how late was I in the kitchens?"

"Later, my lady. Here is not a good place to speak."

The Knight's sword was flung from his grasp and the ladies all clapped and rose from their seats. Belladonna stepped back and Chammielle took a breath. She stood and clapped as well, though with less vigor and more questions on her mind.

...

The luncheon was well set out. They were seated much the same way as with the Queen at the royal dinners, but the Prince sat at the head. Two ladies were seated between her and his highness and her sisters beside her allowed for him to have an excellent view of Aster at the end. It was expected of course. She'd most likely be one of the ladies he chose for his walk.

The food arrived and they were met with finely sliced beef curled into rosettes atop herbed crusts of thick bread with soft cheese. Lotus seed soup with lilac blossoms and chive flowers floating in it looked like an elegant pond, and small hand pies filled with all manner of garden vegetables wafted heady aromas. Everything was colorful, attractive, and enticing. Even the garnish was edible floral arrangements.

She cut open her pie and sampled the delicacy. The buttery root vegetables melted in her mouth and she did her best not to moan over her food. Chef Gorst had done an excellent job on the savory delicacies and she wanted to tell him so later. She would be eating at least two of these now.

Conversation went around the table, all of it pointed towards the Prince and punctuated with incessant giggling and flattery. She wanted it to stop but felt it was appropriate and expected for the occasion. Prince William smiled and nodded here and there, clearly in a good mood after his exercise and hearing his fame praised up and down the table. For some reason, she simply didn't feel up for such things.

"Your highness, you were so remarkable in that duel. How long have you been working on your swordsmanship?"

She caught sight of his smirk and felt her heart feel somehow heavier in her chest. Something was wrong with her. She turned back to her meal to quiet herself.

"Is it that obvious I have no such natural talent for such things? Truly, I have worked very long."

The girls seated next to him pawed at his arms on the table and cooed their beliefs that he was all so wonderfully perfect from birth, needing no improvement. A small snort escaped her and she covered it with a cough. They were being absolutely ridiculous.

"Everyone on this earth can do with a little improvement, perfect or not. The desire to strive for it only exemplifies one's personal attainment because their character has earned it."

Where had that come from? Oh no.

She set her silverware down with a small start realizing she'd spoken out of turn. The young women were giving her death glares. Of course they would. They all still thought they had a chance. The Prince had a look of amusement on his face. Why did she keep doing these things?

"Are you saying his highness requires improvement?"

Lady Aconia pinned a cool gaze on her. She'd attracted attention. Very undesirable attention.

"I am saying the Prince clearly has worked very hard to be as perfect as he currently is, and to dismiss such valiant toil is disrespectful. Should he continue, I do believe Garten will be proud to see an even more excellent King in the future. Do you not agree, Lady Aconia?"

She remembered to smile halfway through her small speech and earned her sisters rival's smirk. Ammorettallia nodded in deference to her.

"I do indeed. Yet his highness also is highborn so far above that it is clear such toil is nearly effortless compared to what some of us would endure. Do you not agree, Miss Kuchen?"

She was being put in her place. A bastard child. Not fit to be here at this table.

Chammielle chanted Alfrina's words in her head. Her family loved her, and she was accepted at the palace as one of them. So, who was she to tell her otherwise?

"It is Lady Kuchen, Lady Aconia. I do believe both our invitations used such language. Do you dispute these facts?"

"Perhaps I am merely mistaken? Your highborn speech confuses me while your status from birth is in question..."

She sipped the juice from her glass and eyed her with sparkling eyes. She was enjoying putting her down and thought she was getting to her.

Chammielle smiled.

"I believe, dear lady, the question of my birth was answered by the Royal family. Or else I would not be here."

"Indeed. Or is the House of Pink's authority in such matters being called into question?"

The table went silent. The Princess Violet had arrived and spoken up for her. Lady Aconia looked mortified.

"Not at all your highness!"

"Good. Brother, may I bother you a moment?"

The table looked from the top to the bottom between them all. Ammorettallia was brooding and eyeing her with something a little more reverent than contempt. It unnerved her. She'd rather be hated than revered. Especially by the likes of someone rumored to have devious means at her disposal.

"Such a rude interruption..."

Lady Clarendine let her sentiment be known, and Chammielle couldn't help herself.

"Surely, you don't mean the Princess."

She kept her eyes on her plate. She knew what Petulia had meant, but she wasn't going to be bullied. Let them know they needed to watch their words. They'd be leaving here, and their sentiments needed to be curated to fit their brief time at the palace. For her part, at least she'd be around once in a while.

The table melted into whispers.

"So sorry for the interruption. I hope this luncheon is to everyone's satisfaction."

Violet came behind her and let a hand rest upon her shoulder.

It was a bold move. All eyes went to her and the Princess's hand upon her. Violet was sending a message. Don't upset my friend. It both put out a warning to those with simple curiosity, and a target on her and her sisters to the more discerning.

Namely, Ammorettallia.

Chammielle placed a hand upon hers and patted it.

"Of course your highness. I'm sure it was all a simple misunderstanding. Lady Aconia is a Lady after all."

Violet nodded.

"Are you close with Lady Aconia, Chammielle?"

She placed a demure smile upon her face, affecting a humble posture.

"I'd hoped to be friends, actually. I heard she shared my love for bon bons."

Belladonna stepped forward with the box. It held over two dozen, plenty for everyone. Minus one of course. She offered the open lid for her perusal and Chammielle watched as her eyes widened almost imperceptibly as she inhaled.

"Whiskey liqueur? ...My favorite."

She took one and inclined her head to her. This wasn't over. But for now they could look like they had made amends.

"My lady was up half the night making them to share with you, Lady Aconia."

For a split second she thought she saw anger on her face, but if she had it was far too quickly replaced with remorse.

"Forgive me."

"Of course."

It was just for show. She knew that. But the apology still took her a ways back into the grace of the Royal family. There was no room for error. She could not make a fool of herself in front of them.

"Brother, won't you take Lady Kuchen for a walk? I think she needs a bit of fresh air."

"Of course."

He stood and Chammielle's breath caught in her throat as he moved towards her.

This was not the plan.

Prince William IV of Garten extended his hand to her, and she kept her eyes down in humility. She didn't dare look haughty or even pleased. The slightest misstep and the ladies would take it as her asserting some sort of authority over them. No, this needed to be what Violet had meant it for. A reward for those who think of the Crown's reputation, and a reprimand to those who look down on others.

She felt unsteady, and the Prince guided her expertly down the short stair off the terrace and into the garden.

Once they were in the roses, hidden from view, she breathed a deep sigh.

"That was expertly done."

She chuckled at his comment.

"Then why does my heart feel so burdened?"

"Let's see if we can remedy that..."

His arm came about her waist and she sucked in a breath.

"Your highness?"

"Oh, come now. What happened to Will? I quite liked it when you called me that."

Her memory was foggy and she pinched her eyebrows together.

"I did?"

"Let me see...shall I jog your memory?"

He let go of her arm and stopped. She turned to face him and found herself face to face with his face. His left cheek to be more precise.

"W-William?"

He tapped it and her eyes went wide.

"No..."

"Oh yes, you told me something about me wanting you to kiss me."

"No..."

She took a step back. Mortified at her behavior. How had this happened?

"I admit, I was shocked but not at all opposed. You are very loquacious when drunk. Very honest. And God in Heaven but you teased me! Which is very hard to do I'll have you know."

"No, no, no!"

Her voice rose just above a whisper but her throat felt as though it had screamed. How could she make such a fool of herself? How could she be so stupid?

"I'd love to do it again, by the way. You're very fun when you let your guard down."

He looped his arm with hers and proceeded to usher her further into the garden away from the luncheon.

"Your hi-"

"It's Will. Please don't start that again."

"Whatever I call you, I am trying to tell you I am so incredibly ashamed of my behavior towards you!"

"Then shall I apologize as well? Because I very much enjoyed spending that time with you. Your behavior was enjoyable and whether or not you hate it now you were very relaxed and agreeable then. Very open and charming."

She put a knuckle to her temple, sure that whatever she said about her propriety would fall on deaf ears with him. How could he not see how embarrassed she was? She'd kissed the Prince on the cheek! It was the definition of cheek!

"I will say, I've never been kissed. It was an eye opening experience for me."

Her eyes widened further. Was he really trying to make conversation out of this?

"I-I didn't mean to..."

"Oh please don't. Let me guess, you've been kissed and I haven't. You're rubbing it in, aren't you?"

He had such a playful glint in his eye she wanted to drop all her worrying. For now at least. She huffed at him and found the will to see some humor in this.

"If you must know, yes. I have been kissed. A boy down the lane when I was eight."

"Eight years old? The scandal! What happened to this whirlwind romance of yours?"

"He pulled my hair and I kicked him in the shins. He chased me until I fell down and he was sorry I'd gotten hurt. He kissed me so I'd stop crying and then ran away."

The Prince smiled brightly and laughed.

"Young love indeed. I have no such stories. These walls have kept me in far too well to let me kiss unsuspecting girls."

She smirked at that.

"Not even the time you and Jacob and Alfric went galavanting about the city?"

His eyebrows shot up.

"So you know about it? Well, I'll be truthful then. Jacob did get a kiss. He stole it from a blonde little girl in pigtails who was waiting for her father. She seemed so surprised and told him she'd marry him. He was absolutely besotted with her... Probably still is."

She smirked at him.

"But not you. No running off to steal kisses while off your leash?"

"Of course not. Alfric had done the same right before elsewhere and the little thing screamed and cried and that was how the guards found out we were in the city. I never got my turn. And I'm glad for it. I didn't know what I'd do if I kissed a girl and made her cry."

Chammielle rolled her eyes at him.

"I don't think you'll have much problem with that now."

"Really? If I were to kiss you I wouldn't get a tongue lashing from those infamous lips?"

Heat flooded her face, ears, and neck all at once. Chammielle turned, but quickly thought better of it.

"That's not what a gentleman who's about to be married in four days' time says to just anyone."

"You're right. It's not."

She did her best to remain civil with him.

"Will, you're going to have to be serious. It's obvious it's one of my sisters, and while this makes a good cover to try and speak with one of her sisters it'd be best to keep in mind the other candidates."

"Obvious? I don't see what's so obvious about my choice that you can assume it's one of your sisters. How do you know I am not pining away for Lady Rosenblum?"

She sighed at him, and then decided to be more open with him. Apparently he liked that anyway.

"Does Gladys make your eyes sparkle just by being in her presence? Or make you want to rule a country with her at your side? Can you picture your children stealing away into the kitchens to force the baker to make sweets at a moment's notice?"

He didn't answer and she wondered why she'd bothered. Aster was the prettiest of the three, the brightest personality, and frankly had the most sincere moments of clarity for a woman of her age. She'd be eighteen when crowned queen. And a long and healthy reign with years of studying to guide her after that.

She heard him sigh and guessed he was coming to his senses.

"Well, with you being here, I have no doubt they'll find their way to the kitchens..."

She nodded. Finally he was being honest. With Aster on the throne, she wouldn't be too far off.

"Please, I understand your need for secrecy, but don't lead all the young women on so elaborately. It's almost more than I can bear, and it would destroy them, I'm sure. Rather, keep their feelings in mind as you entertain them. But don't tease them this way. Equal treatment until the very hour of the wedding. Then you can show what you really think of your bride and it won't be sullied."

He hummed beside her and she could tell he was thinking. She spied him from her periphery, his noble outline strong and painted with some mischief. She hoped he'd take her words to heart.

"So, you want me to play nice and flirt with no one. Even surprising my bride on the day of?"