"Your highness, you're full of such voracity towards your lessons this morning."

She swung at her imaginary foe and groaned through it.

"Maestro, should God ever grant you a life where you can choose to be born a woman, I sincerely urge you to turn such an opportunity down."

He cackled and Belladonna nodded in agreement.

"Well, at least we are built for enduring such pain. Men cannot, saving yourself, Sir."

"I have no doubt. I came across a lady spy once from another kingdom. Could not break her. Ended up bribing her to join our side. She was perhaps one of my better students. Had a penchant for wearing breeches."

She stabbed at the air and took a ragged breath.

"Water, please."

Belladonna brought it forward and she sipped it, nearly spitting it out when she realized it was mingled with a little wine.

"Why am I drinking alcohol?"

"For the pain, your highness. It's weak enough to let you keep your wits, but it will also help you not to think of it."

She clicked her tongue several times on the roof of her mouth.

"It's quite sweet."

She drank the rest of the ladle she'd been given and grabbed up the sword once more.

"Perhaps a rest, your highness. You have been at this nearly an hour already."

"Maestro, call me Chammielle when it's just us. Same for you Donny. I don't feel like acting royal at the moment."

She sat down on the bench and saw him lean in and mutter to Belladonna.

"Just how much wine did you give her?"

"I am perfectly fine, Maestro. I simply ail from the monthly fever."

She leaned her head against the wall and looked up through the ceiling. Gray clouds eased overhead, and the birds outside flew in large flocks. A storm was brewing. Apropos for how she felt. She closed her eyes a moment and focused on her breathing. The wine in the water really was helping.

"So you're here."

Her eyes flew open and she caught sight of Bram entering her sanctuary for sword play.

"What are you doing here?"

"Sir Rochester asked for me so you'd have a sparring partner."

She glared at him and saw his hands go up in surrender.

"If you're not feeling up to it I can send him away."

"No. I'm fine."

She stood and whipped the sword through the air so it whistled. If she was going to fight anyone, it might as well be someone she detested.

"Showing off?"

"Just fight me."

"Oh, so feisty."

Bram readied his sword and she lunged for him. He paried it easily and she countered as best she could in the short distance between them. He knocked the sword from her grasp and it flew behind her.

"My match. Again."

She retrieved her blade and went for him again. This time he wasn't so quick with his block and she slipped down his blade so that she tore his shirt cuff. He pushed her away, a gleam in his eye to go with his smirk.

"Good...I see he's been doing a good job with your attacks."

She lunged once more and it narrowly missed where she'd aimed for his kidneys.

"Gutsy, but I'm not that bad of a swordsman."

He lunged at her and she barely had time to pary his blow. He hadn't even gone that fast, but she wasn't there yet. She groaned in frustration.

"Don't give up. You're doing well."

"You went slow for me."

"Can't very well have you lying on the ground bleeding. What would your husband say?"

She swing wildly and he stepped back, then swing again and turned it into a direct shot to his heart. The fabric tore before he could push the blow away.

"I can see you want these clothes off me in the worst way. All you had to do was ask, Chammielle."

She shrieked and lunged for him again, but he caught her sword at her guard and pulled her up against him.

"Now now, one must keep a cool head in these things. Perhaps today is not your day."

She kicked him in the shin and he winced and released her, but kept her sword.

"I'm fine. Again."

He tossed the sword to her and she caught it well. At least Maestro had shown her that much. She simply couldn't understand why she was so slow at learning how to fight.

She lunged for him, but this time he turned so she ran past him. A sharp swat hitting her backside.

"Lord Godfrey! Mind you that is a princess!"

Belladonna rose to her aid but she turned and glared daggers at him. Maestro cackled in the background.

"There! That's it. You're angry, flustered, let's see you fight through that."

She took a breath and went for him.

All of her anger towards him. How he'd dared offer to be her extramarital affair. His way of bulldozing over her wishes for him to leave her be and not leer at her. And all the times he'd dragged her around her own home and bullied her came crashing through her mind.

She swung. She missed. She fell.

Into his arms.

"You're not quite there yet, Chammielle..."

His lips brushed against hers and she shoved him so that she fell back and sat on the ground.

Her hands shot up to her mouth and she stared at him openly.

It had felt so ticklish. So light and gentle. How could he do that when he was the sort of person that he was?

"That's quite enough of that! I don't care if you are a Lord, you'll not be fraternizing so intimately with my Will's wife!"

He chuckled and sheathed his saber.

"Easy there Miss Bells, I was just giving her her just desserts lunging blindly like that. Better a kiss from me than the blade of an enemy."

"I don't know where the line of friend and enemy runs with you, young man, but there's no friendliness you can have like that with the Princess!"

Chammielle was helped up and she decided it really was best she end things here for the day. High Court again in the morning, and another two days in the office with Will to help clear their schedule. They intended to leave next week, and her monthly would be over before that.

She shot Bram another look of derision and was punished with his sultry smirk. The man was horrible. You don't go around kissing unsuspecting women. He did have a point though.

Something he said came back to her and she walked along with Belladonna a bit in a daze. Was it really?

"Bells..."

"Yes, your highness?"

"You're Bells."

She stopped and turned to the maid and really looked at her.

She did have lovely features. Perhaps not as light and youthful as the Dowager Queen's now, but if her sister had been younger... The darker color of her hair salted with grays and those deep blue eyes.

"You're Auntie Bells."

She smiled at her and gave her a hug.

"And here I thought he'd never tell another soul. Bless you, he really does love you, my girl."

She hugged her back but then stepped back.

"Oh! Then the little boy..."

"My William, my Sweet William. Well, your Sweet William now, dear. I do hope things are going better between you two. I felt terrible when he became ill because of those baths he was taking. If I'd have known he was pushing himself so hard to be with you and not, I'd never have suggested them."

"You...you've been by my side this whole time...and I...oh, I wish I'd known sooner."

She shook her head and pushed Chammielle's hair from her face.

"Nonsense, I've gotten to know you better this way. This is how I like to be. Close and anonymous."

"Can I ask you to come with us? Our trip to the Columbine Duchy? We could fit a maid into our cover."

She laughed at her and for the first time consciously Chammielle thought it truly sounded like bells chiming.

"Nonsense. It's your honeymoon. I'd be in the way. You can tell me all about it when you get back."

The crinkles at her eyes deepened and she swung her arm over Chammielle's shoulders.

"Come on now. You don't have to worry about telling Will about today. I'll take care of it. Such things can become tension between couples."

They walked and chatted about his highness the rest of the way through the garden. What he'd been like as a little boy. What he'd been like as a baby. And whether or not she'd admit it out loud, Chammielle felt a great deal of warmth for the man she called her husband. A warmth that spread everywhere.

...

Will sat in his office, a cloud hanging over his head.

Belladonna had left a while ago. He knew.

"You wanted to see me, your highness?"

Lord Godfrey strolled into the room. An arrogant look on his face. Just what sort of man came into the office of his future King after assaulting his wife with that sort of confidence? He was up to something.

"Yes...Lord Godfrey...how well do you know Princess Chammielle?"

He remained standing in the center of the room. Will hadn't offered him a seat, but he seemed entirely at ease surveying the place at his leisure. Now he wished he had so he'd be forced to remain in one place and not peruse his things. His filthy hands found an abalone inlay map from the West Diocese.

"Since we were children. She's always been feisty. We parted ways some ten years ago. Now I am her aid in matters requiring my particular skills."

"And you want to be her consort."

Bram smirked but did not appear distracted from his inspection of the priceless map, or surprised at his accusation.

"That is true."

"Stop."

He took a step back from the artistic piece and gave him his attention. The set in his jaw reminded him of this one squire he wanted desperately to punch when he was a boy. He was arrogant, and sure of what he wanted. But what he wanted belonged to him.

"Yes, your highness?"

"Stop seeing my wife."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

William tapped his fingers on the top of his desk. Waiting for some sort of explanation from this devil. He didn't seem very forthcoming.

"And why not?"

The large and brutish man sighed.

"Your highness, I work for her highness as her informant and confidante. What goes on between us is up to her."

He was seething inside. This man was suggesting that their marriage meant nothing. That if she wanted to have extramarital affairs it was up to her and he merely needed to accept it. He wasn't about to accept that. He couldn't. They'd just been married. He loved her and would continue to love her until they ceased to take breath. This bully was not going to get between them no matter his tactics.

"You fail to understand me, Lord Godfrey. I did not say stop working for my wife. I said stop seeing her."

"Shall I blindfold myself then, your highness?"

He was mocking him. That crimson smirk was so telling of his true intentions. Two could play at that game.

"That might help. Lust is in the eyes. But no, send all your information through Sir Rochester to her. At least he does not have such designs on my wife. Though I'd much prefer it be the Duchess. I am a jealous man, you see."

The smirk fell.

"You were able to choose your wife. Why cannot she or I choose an affair?"

He leaned back in his chair. The light that often streamed into this room was being covered by the overcast and sounds of thunder afar off. It sounded like it was over the agricultural sector. That was a good sign.

"Because she needs her husband, not her childhood nightmare."

"What makes you think she needs you at all, you highness? Sometimes nightmares drive us better."

He frowned at him. He was being obstinate.

"Let me be clear: she does not want you. You may think you have some claim over her because you used to pull her hair and pour her inkwell over her head, but she doesn't see it that way. You're a tool. And you've been hired by the Crown to be used as one. I am her husband. And whatever advances you think you are making to have her on her back, know this: she will be fully satisfied by me in every way. There is no room for you in our marriage."

He'd spoken clearly, though his anger lent a low heat to his words. This fool needed to know his place.

The Lord shifted his weight and stared up at the ceiling.

"What if I told you...me being by her side might be the only way to save her."

Will stared openly at him.

"How, exactly?"

...

Chammielle lay on her side in their bed. Thoughts of no longer being a Princess for a few days helping her to feel calm. Seeing Kuchen, being with Will... It was like a dream.

A light cramping hit her and she decided she wanted another bon bon.

He'd missed their luncheon together. Instead he had sent chocolates and a note saying he would be working a bit later than usual. He'd dotted the i in her name with a little heart and she decided to keep a hold of it. It was adorable, and she hadn't seen a great deal of his handwriting since his scribe often copied down or fixed what he'd written in new documents for review. The words scrolled and looked lovely.

The door creaked and she sat up.

"Will?"

He looked tired, stressed.

"Mm, you look like just the sort of hug I need after my day."

He came to the bed and she held out her arms for him. He all but fell into them and rolled onto the covers fully clothed. She kissed his cheek and nestled into his hair.

"You work too much."

"For you? Tirelessly."

He sighed and she chuckled at him.

"Will, you are tired."

"No, I am milking it for all the affection I can receive. I'm not tired. Not in the least..."

She stroked his hair and felt him begin to drift off in her arms. It was growing apparent how very strongly she cared for him. More than any other person in her life. He made small humming sounds as he drifted off. And despite him being dressed she was sure they'd sleep just fine like this.

Tomorrow was another day.

Another day she could tell him.

Maybe the next day.