Princess Freckles

14. Suspended Memories

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.