I Love You, My Cursed Prince

The following days were pretty dull. At least they weren't difficult. She didn't have any chores whatsoever. The most taxing duties she had were pouring tea, playing music, writing boring letters dictated by her mistress, and reporting messages to high ranking servants.

Princess Arya still gave a brutal statement every now and then, but some of her statements weren't directed towards Muriel. The princess seemed to be a painfully honest kind of person, uncaring of people's feelings as long as she was able to give what she thought to be the truth. Sometimes, Muriel thought she actually agreed with the princess, but she didn't want to admit that to anyone.

One morning, however, there was a minor disagreement.

Princess Arya wanted to have some furniture carried out of storage and taken to a reception room that was almost never used. Muriel watched with the princess as a few men laid the tables out for their perusal.

"This one's darling," the princess said as she stepped toward a small table with a drawer and four thin legs. "There's a lovely floral scroll here on the drawer."

Muriel was looking at a different table, a long one made of white walnut wood. It wasn't ornate, and it seemed a little bit old, scratched, and chipped, but the legs were thick and sturdy. Those legs were connected by an H-shaped bar. The tabletop was also very sturdy. Muriel imagined that three people could safely put their backsides on the thing and be very stable.

"What's claimed your attention, Muriel?"

"Hm?" Muriel looked up to the princess. The roots of her hair were showing a hints of gray. Muriel had recently figured out that she used dye to keep her hair completely black. The princess would likely dye her roots soon.

Princess Arya floated on over to Muriel's side. Only the tapping of her heels gave away the fact that she had feet. Whenever she had a quicker pace, though, Muriel could always see her shoes. She had very nice shoes. "Muriel," she said quietly, as if she was slowly having a revelation but didn't want to accept it, "what do you think of this ugly table?" Her fingers were tightly lacing together. Her face was impassive.

One of Muriel's parched palms slid over the walnut tabletop's uneven surface. "A table is meant to bear weight, and this table might serve its owner very well." She gave the surface a good thwack, making a heavy noise. "This is a fine table. I'd love to have it in the kitchen in my home."

"Is that true, Muriel?"

Did she offend her mistress? Muriel hoped not. Her face flushed as she removed her hand from the table. "I do fancy this table, Your Highness."

"Then you may keep it."

"Excuse me?" Muriel's eyes rose to look at the princess' eyes. They were very calm, like smooth chocolates.

"This is a gift, Muriel." Princess Arya said. "I'll have the men put the table in your room. Should you leave this castle and return to your family, you may take the table with you."

"Oh." Muriel curtsied. "Thank you very much, Your Highness. You're quite generous."

"No, I'm already tired of the thing and I'd like to be rid of it."

Muriel didn't actually want the table, but she thought refusing the gift would be unwise. She didn't believe the princess was being generous. She believed there was an ulterior motive. She didn't know what that was, but it must have existed.