Ladies, Lords, & Liars

Chapter Nine: Harqut

   Of course, the queen had to follow his gaze at the exact moment that he looked over at the princess, which earned him a sly grin. "Shall I introduce you?"

   He looked at the grass, feelings his cheeks grow hot and hating every second. She would no doubt take the flush of his cheeks as a confirmation of the attraction that she was so sure existed. "Perhaps I should join the game first. She looks like she'd rather not be bothered."

   "Oh, nonsense. She's looking forward to meeting you." She grinned wider. She was acting like a giddy schoolgirl, but she was the queen, so it must be to some degree normal.

   She started dragging him over to the seated royal, and he had to fight to keep from digging his heels into the ground. The very last thing he wanted was to meet the princess, especially while the queen stood on the sidelines and silently urged the two of them to kiss, or whatever little thoughts were running through her head as she grinned at him.

   He could tell this wasn't going to be very fun. He could almost feel the stuttering on his lips and he wasn't even speaking. Hopefully, he'd be able to remember himself and keep the accent going for a whole conversation.

   But before they'd reached the princess's little throne, they were blocked by a wall of vividly-colored ladies, tittering like birds as they all seemed to hold their hands out at once, each one subtly shoving the others as they silently fought for his attention behind painted-on grins and heavily blackened eyelashes.

   He was half relieved to have an excuse to put off meeting the princess for a while longer at least, but on the other side of the same token, he hated that he had to act princely for a whole gaggle of other ladies.

   Curse his wealth-crazy mother. This wasn't going to end well, and he was going to come out on the bottom no matter what happened.

   He spent at least half an hour—if not longer—simply greeting them all and learning names that he would by no means remember. And once he was done with that, they insisted that he join their game. He had no choice but to accept the invitation.

  After the ball made just two rounds, he could see that he was the only one with even a small bit of skill in the game, and he'd never even taken much time to learn, much less practice. It was ridiculous. His own fumbling hands were almost skillful in comparison to those of the ladies around him.

   Most of the ladies spent their time batting their eyelashes and posing themselves so that their breasts stuck out further, rather than actually trying to hit the ball.

   That was one difference between the palace and home. Back in his home town, people would be willing to tear clothes and even injure themselves just to rack up another point for their team. The spring festival's matches had been known to last up to five days of solid streaks, the ball never touching the ground at the risk of life and limb.

   It was a dumb thing to notice, he was sure.

   He wondered if the princess was any good at the game.

   From her demeanor, she seemed bored out of her mind, and her head was constantly moving, looking from one thing to the other, but never at the game right before her. It could be that she just didn't like the company, or maybe she was one of those women that just never liked physical activity of any kind.

   If it happened to be the first option, then he couldn't help but agree wholeheartedly.

   Then he had no choice but to realize that he was getting lost in thought, because the ball hit him in the chest and rolled onto the ground, and he was actually the one to end the streak of three that the mindless ladies had managed to get.