The Vanity of the Rose (Chapter Two- To Be Named Later)

We stepped out to the corridor next to my rooms. The corridor was recently repainted crimson under my suggestion. It was better for the eye than those dull beige colors than covered most the castle.

 A glance out of one of the rectangular windows would have shown the Vollo Forest and the mountains. My rooms faced the back of the castle (as was my parents' now-vacant, most-probably-filled-with-dust suite). The rows of mountains and the snake-filled forest served to protect the castle from our enemies, but the castle still was a central location in the vast island.

A silence filled the air as Charlotte and I walked to the staircase just a few corridors away from my room. I glanced at her. Clad in a  simple teal evening dress with ribbons along the sleeves, she wore a thoughtful aren't-I-so-effortlessly-adorable? expression that I wanted slap right out of her face.

"I've been informed of your plan-to-engagement, Charlotte," I said lightly, breaking the silence, noting with satisfaction her momentary stiffness. "Although I'm curious to know why haven't you consented  to telling me yourself."

"Oh, how relieved I am that you know!" she replied She laughed her tinkle laugh, giving my arm a squeeze. "It's just-"

"You know that I can't be seen with you anymore if you marry him," I interrupted, keeping my tone light and breezy.

She blushed.

"I know, Flame, that you don't like Baron Fey, but really, he's such a wonderful gentleman if you get to know him well!"she exclaimed, drawing a breath dreamily, her dimples becoming very evident. "Oh, my, oh, my. I think I'm in love with him!"

"Charlotte, I've loathed him the moment I set my eyes on him, and him I. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then how could you have possibly said yes? You're a hypocrite for that," I accused her.

Tears welled in her eyes but she stared ahead and stubbornly said nothing. We reached the spiral staircase and went down past Main Hall –the first room after the entrance- and down a corridor to the left, where the Fool was waiting for us.

He gave an exaggerated bow until the bells in his hat swept the ground as we approached. He was the jester and had a wicked sense of humor, often used for my benefit. He was clad in checkered yellow-and-red. The Fool couldn't be older than sixteen, maybe younger, and he might have had a swoon-worthy face was it not distorted by that mischievous grin of his.

"Her travesty and Lady Hann Vugh!" he exclaimed delightedly. "What a, oh, what pleasure!"

He sauntered to us and kissed our hands.

"The men are getting testy," he informed us, batting his eyelashes up and down like a girl. Charlotte giggled. She got on with the Fool like oil and water. I suppose it's because she sees herself in him. " It's been snowing all day and only I would dare go out in the mile deep stuff. You better cast your spell on them, my scorching Flame, before they turn to tigers."

"Is that so?" I said, then grabbed Charlotte's elbow and pulled her with me to the Throne Room right down the corridor, where my nightly rendezvous was set.

"I've arrived," I declared," and this time…"

The rest of my announcement –"you'd better impress me"- went unheard as I looked around the empty room.

"I never said they were in here, Your travesty," cackled the Fool and I could practically see his annoying smirk.

"Go boil your head. And the  correct address is Your Majesty," I said through gritted teeth. "Don't. You. Dare. Laugh," I added to Charlotte, who was hiding her mouth behind a hand.

She adopted an innocent mien that almost had me gagging. "I would never," she solemnly said.

"Oh, for God's sake, just tell me where they went!"

"But you never asked," replied the Fool indignantly, hoping on one foot. "Why, they've just been escorted by that lovely Mr. Tea to the Dining Room. You really missed it, it was a sight. Like horses, they went. Viscount Harvey almost  galloped-"

I marched past him without a thank you. He and Charlotte trailed behind me as I crossed the Main Hall to the opposite corridor. I was made certain of their location this time as an audible hum reached my ears. A guard stood in front of the doors to the Dining Room. He bowed stiffly to me and ignored Charlotte, which bothered her not one bit. Before he could go in and announce my arrival to the gentlemen, the round form of Mr. Tea, our butler, came out. He gave the Fool a smile before turning to me. I've suspected for long that there was something going on between them, but I haven't the interest (or, if I was being true to myself, the nerve) to ask.

"Your Majesty, my lady. I was about to come and inform you that we've taken the guests to early dinner-"

"No matter, for we are here already."

"Yes, Your Highness. I presume you know of the weather? Well, I have taken matters to my hands and made arrangements for the gentlemen to stay overnight, but if the snow continues to fall, then they may have to stay longer."

I crossed my arms.

"And you're telling me this… why?"

"I presumed you might have wanted to know about the house hold matter, Your Highness," he replied, almost huffily.

"Well, you presumed wrong," I said. "Anything else?"

He stared at me for a second with his tiny black eyes. "No," he said finally. "No, Ma'am. I bid you goodnight."

I smiled sweetly at him as he left. The guard, having already announced my presence while I was having the tete-a-tete with Mr. Tea, opened the door for me and my companions. I contemplated scolding him –he should have waited for my say-so before he opened the door. What if I changed my mind and wished to leave unnoticed?- but then changed my mind and went inside.

The commodious dining room, with its cream colored walls and pleasing furniture and its large oak- rather a lot of breathing space, was almost crammed with gentlemen. Fifty two gentlemen to be exact. Some were noblemen. Some were knights. Some were high-class loners.

All were bachelors.

Dinner was served nearly five minutes ago, yet the victuals was nearly non-existent. They chomped it down as though tomorrow will never come. Not all of them, of course. But most of them. One would think they were commoners

When I entered, though, everything changed. They stood up. I waved them down.

"Take a seat," I told them. "Continue with your meal."

"Thank you for hosting us, Your Highness," chorused a cluster of young viscounts at the front as though rehearsed. They sat down, looking pleased with themselves, and everyone resumed eating, this time finding use for the forks and knives laid in front of them.

I smiled graciously at them. Then I proceeded to my seat at the head of the table. Charlotte followed, a little uncertainly. As soon as they saw her, the men sitting at the first two rows cleared away, going to the back where more seats were available. Charlotte sat to my right, eyeing the boney left-overs on the table gingerly. The Fool, somersaulted behind me, ready to crack a joke given the slightest opportunity.

My eyes surveyed the table's occupants like a hawk. In my mind, a generally divided my suitors into three sets. The first set had three-quarters of the hopefuls. The Nuisances were men who had a great deal of imagination to even think that I might choose them. They include Lord Rearmud, (whose bottomy surname –pardon the pun- alone was enough to have him disqualified); Viscount Gooding (who smelled like garlic and had fifteen fingers in total); and Sir Huff (a knight with a scruffy face and a mouth that begs to be washed with soap). I enjoy tormenting them to no ends, but not as much as the second set.

The second set I call the Eligible Bachelors. They stand a chance to receive my hand, but if none of them amazes me soon, then it will never happen. They include Baron Sears (whose grandfather was a chummy pal of my own grandfather and who has breathtaking eyes- but I don't think he's aware of it because he hasn't used it against me); Lord Fermanhaus (the son of the chairman of the Angrian University- I think I'm drawn to his long hair); and Duke Lullouthuphis (who, despite his ridiculous surname and arrogant manners and assurance that he will be the one to get me, was actually very handsome and was richer than me).

Now, for the third set. It's for the kind of men who manage to get under my skin yet have the decency to do as I say and not kiss me when they have had me cornered under a mistletoe twig after the Yule Feast- a rear feat, I must grudgingly admit.(The abstinence from kissing me, not the feast). The kind who smile when they catch me staring at them, and say my name in a way that makes me involuntarily blush. The kind who, if one asks about them –and I'm not saying that I have done that, because I don't do such things, honest- one would only receive a shake of the head and just a whisper of the magic their family is rumored to possess. The kind I can't stand at all, because I know they're hiding an interior motive; because they always appear to be composed no matter the situation; and because… well. Never mind the third reason.

And I know they think they're going to get me in the end, which makes me just more determined to ignore their lingering presence. They think they can just smother me with white roses, as white as snow- I wonder where they get them, it's not like they grow in Angria- and sing about love –and they do have amazing voices- and I'll just go ,"Oh, mercy. Yes, yes, I'll marry you!"

I think not.

But what infuriates me is how they go on and on, and they try again and again, as though looking for a weakness in my shield, and no matter how many dances I turn down from them, or how many times I mock their pastimes, they never give up. All right, confession time. It's not them, plural.

It's him. Singular.