Queen of Penury

i n v i t a t i o n

Kramer

Ugh. The envelope sat like a cancer on the breakfast table, reminding me of my strange double life. I lived in a palace. I dined with dukes. I cleaned with cooks. I had no title, yet I attended luncheons hosted by the lovely Princess Amelia, and helped the servants clean up afterwards.

Such was the double life of the Captain of the Guard's daughter. Me. Kramer. Spoiled princesses, snotty maids, really there was no difference. I just hated it. But. I loved my father, and there was nothing I wouldn't do for him, including attending a luncheon of fake girls to keep his reputation in good standing.

I sighed and finished clearing the table, wiping the coarse wood with an old rag after picking up the invitation with the tips of my fingers. I faced enough ridicule already without giving the ladies room to tease about dirty waterstains.

Once I finished, I went to my room to scrounge up something decent to wear. I couldn't wear the comfortable tunic and tights I wore to work in, as those were considered appropriate only for men and impoverished women. I pulled out my light brown afternoon dress, sighing at the faint stain on the bodice.

Carefully, I pressed the stain off the fabric, smoothing the wrinkles in the process. Taking a seam ripper, I detached the ribbon from the bosom, wrists, and hem, choosing pale-pink silk to replace the ivory. Much to my chagrin, I did know how to sew, and I did it well. It wasn't a skill I was proud of, as I'd rather be in the armory or training room.

In no time, I had the ribbon attached to the gown and I tugged at my stays, unabashedly proud of the slight filling-out of my bosom and slimming of my waist. I might not have been high-born, but I could dress as well as any of the uppity ladies. My hair I pulled down from its single braid, which was coiled on my head, and redid into a modest bun at the base of my neck, decorating with a sprig of Baby's Breath flowers. I surveyed myself in my solitary mirror, and I wasn't unimpressed.

I had a small face which was finally slimming out. My cheekbones were beginning to be prominent, and my cheeks were always rather rosy. Dark brown hair fell in waves to my mid-back when it was down, and my gray-hazel eyes were a startling contrast.

I was unusually tall for a nineteen year-old woman, standing five feet and eleven inches tall, but my slim, curvy, and firmly muscled body complimented my height perfectly. The dress hugged my figure, flaring out at the waist to settle in soft folds just above the floor. I powdered my face and gave my lips a touch of color, slid my knife in its constant hiding place, and headed out the door, invitation in hand.