The General's Daughter & His Majesty Book #1

Chapter Two: High Born Matches

Nesrin's POV
I can see Shamim's pout even if I'm seated a few steps away. She has a tendency to get worked up whenever I'm not helping around in the kitchen.

My mother has really tried to make us exceptional in every other thing she thinks a wife should excel in. One of these things and it's the one I hate the most, it's cooking. The kitchen and I are not friends. I don't think I even know where she keeps the cups. It's not my fault. I'm just not interested.

"You could help." She finally spoke.

Shamim and I clash every other time. We are not immune to getting physical. Our fights are ugly. If she takes a patch of my hair, I make sure I break something. Knowing how far we will both go, we agree not to allow it to get there.

"You could just tell her no." I suggested. "Don't we have servants for this?"

"Don't be rude Nesrin!" My reprimanded me. "I'm trying to teach you girls useful skills!"

"But mother, why do I need to know how to cook if we are marrying high borns? Don't they have servants? Do you think the Duchess if Saine Neane cooks?"

Leila started laughing until my mother threw her a reprimanding look.

"Fair point. But you specifically may not marry a high born. With your crude mannersims that befit a beast, the best you may get is a miner."

Shamim laughed at me.

It's Kitt remarks like this that almost stir me into action. I'm almost motivated to show her that I can marry any high born I want! Almost. But not really that motivated. I laughed too. She hates it when she tries to humiliate me and I laugh at her.

"Then I will fit in perfectly." I raised my glass of water to her. I have added some vodka. Maybe that's why I'm a little laid back and not offended by these women.

"You don't see it, do you? The point of marriage is to marry up! Progress moves forward! Why would you marry down?"

"Father married down."

She threw a tomato at me. I dodged it before it hit my face but lost balance and fell to the floor. I think I'm a little drunk. Just a little. I looked under to see my father's serious eyes.

"The purpose of the floor is to be walked on daughter. It's not be used as a bed. Get up."

I got up quickly.

"Mary dear, this is not the markets of Daa Haan. Don't throw tomatoes at people."

"Yes. It won't happen again." She picked up the tomato.

My father took a moment to look at all of us. He cleared his throat. "The Royal Match Maker will be paying us a visit tomorrow morning at 11am. Mary, I trust everything will be in order."

The Royal Match Maker is responsible for approving royal matches on behalf of Her Majesty. Given that most of these marriages are arranged and strategic, the Queen has to give her stamp of approval. If she doesn't like a match, she just needs to sneer at the couple and seeds of doubt will do the rest. I think it is overrated for one person to play chess with people's lives! The match maker exercises the queen's authority like it's her right to breathe. I can't be here tomorrow.

"Yes it will be!" She answered eagerly. "Wait! Tomorrow? It's too soon! I haven't gotten dresses for the girls!"

"They can wear the ones they own. As long as there are no holes in them, they should serve their purpose. Daughter, with me."

I'm the one he calls daughter. Everyone else is called by their name. I'm in between wondering whether it's a term of endearment or it is just a way to tell me I'm not his favorite.