"Use your lips and tongue, for goodness sake. Is pleasing a man all your mouth is good for? Use your diction!"

Marie-Fey slammed her fan down on the table between her and the girls she was teaching.

The girls turned a furious red, looking down as tears bloomed in their eyes as Marie-Fey lent back in her seat, squeezing the bridge of her nose in disgust.

It had been decided that everyone in her palace would learn her language. After two years, everyone who had been there since her arrival was fluent in conversation. But new girls always showed up.

Even the lowest servants had to learn so they knew exactly what their mistress was demanding on them, and they were trained by other women in the palace, but after a certain point, Marie-Fey would teach them herself as well.

It ensured she would be conversing with the level she desired. Not some hacked up, half job of stumbling words and lazy muscles.

The three girls sat before her at the moment, however, were, alas, lazy.

She knew that.

They always were.

They didn't want to practice. They didn't want to learn the language of the Foreign Princess. They didn't want to suffer the presence of the lady no one liked.

Gharam placed a fresh tea before Marie-Fey as she lent back, pressed her closed fan to her lips, watching the girls with eyes of ice.

"Start again," she said.

The girl who had been drawling through her reading once again picked up the book and started to read from the start of the chapter.

She stumbled and put stresses in the wrong place and pronounced half the words wrong.

Marie-Fey sighed and closed her eyes, tapping her fan against her forehead.

"Apparently my ladies are idiots," she said casually to Gharam. The reading stopped, and a look of barely concealed hatred passed between the three girls.

"And yet you complimented them so highly yesterday, My Lady," Gharam replied coolly.

That caught the girls' attention, their eyes flicking up.

"I know, apparently my praise was misplaced," Marie-Fey said, straightening up.

"I'm sorry for your let down, My Lady. Perhaps you would like to leave today's classes and take a stroll in the garden?"

"What a wonderful idea," Marie-Fey said, getting to her feet.

"Ah, My Lady."

Marie-Fey looked down her nose at the girl who had spoken.

"We... we shall try again... harder."

"I should hope so," she replied, "but I am done for the day. You've wasted my time with your pretend illiteracy. You know what that word means, correct?"

The three girls turned blazing red again at being called out on their ploy.

"I see you do. Good. Come your next lesson, why don't we try a smooth run. Then those mouths of yours might actually be put to some use." She tapped her fan to her lips again as if thinking. "Though, it is certainly true that a lady can make quite the profit with a talented mouth while on the streets. At least we know there's a future for you should education fail to be your calling and your master never calls for you - which seems likely as it stands."

She dropped her eyes to look at the girls.

"Next lesson. Let's see if my compliment was misplaced."

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away.

"Vile whore, who cares what she says. No one likes her anyway. Her and her ugly language."

Marie-Fey quite clearly heard the words spoken behind her, spoken in the girls' native language for her to not understand, though the meaning was clear enough from the tone alone.

Gharam looked at her as they walked away.

"They said—"

"I know what they said," Marie-Fey said calmly, opening her fan, "I don't care so long as they do what I want by next lesson."

Gharam looked down as they stepped out into the gardens.

One of the captive monkeys that lived in the trees of the gardens flew down the trunk and flew onto Marie-Fey's skirt, scampering up to sit on her shoulder, tangling his fingers into her hair.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Larkin," she said, looking at the small monkey. "How have you been since I was away?"

The monkey chattered and shrieked at her, apparently giving a full account of how he had been while she had been absent from the palace and Marie-Fey smiled in reply.

"Does it not bother you?"

Marie-Fey and Mr. Larkin both looked at Gharam who was walking with her hands clasped together, eyes on the ground, gaze almost sad.

"Does what not bother me?" Marie-Fey asked, stopping to take some berries from one of the bushes, handing two to Mr. Larkin.

"Those girls... what they say about you?" Gharam said. "Doesn't it bother you that they don't like you?"

"What is there to like?" Marie-Fey asked and Gharam looked at her, eyes startled and hurt by the question as if Marie-Fey had insulted her rather than herself.

Marie-Fey laughed slightly, shaking her head and looking away.

"They haven't liked me from the start," she said, feeding Mr. Larkin another berry. "They designed their prejudices before I even stepped off that ship two years ago. I have no desire to chase them and coddle them and plead their acceptance. I am not in a position where I need beg for anything."

"Aren't you afraid of being alone?"

"I'm not, I have Mr. Larkin."

Mr. Larkin shrieked, clinging to her hair. Marie-Fey lifted a hand to steady him as he swung on her shoulder then looked at Gharam and smiled.

"Do you like me?" she asked.

Gharam stared at her with her huge, innocent eyes.

"I adore you!" she cried and Marie-Fey laughed, looking away.

"Then it's fine," she said, hooked Gharam's arm through hers, "I have you and Maanah and Mr. Larkin. There's nothing those shallow, moaning girls can offer me that I don't get from you. What could I be possibly missing?"