I Love You, My Cursed Prince

Muriel soon learned that Princess Arya was an amateur painter. There was a whole studio arranged just for her. Most of the paintings were landscapes.

Muriel sat in the studio with the princess one morning as she sipped a cup of fruity black tea and nibbled on small cakes with powdered sugar. The princess was drawing a sketch on some paper, but Muriel wasn't interested in it. She couldn't even say what the princess was drawing.

The women had some light conversation. They both tended to talk about the most uninteresting things for the most part. The conversation was interrupted, however, when the princess asked, "Could I trouble you for an opinion?"

Setting down a partially eaten cake, Muriel gently warned her, "I'm no artist, Madam."

Princess Arya's temporarily stained fingers tilted up at Muriel. "You're not overloaded with anything. Come and look at my sketch."

"Yes, Your Highness." Muriel got up from her seat and casually walked over to the princess. She looked down at the sketch.

That ... was ... not a landscape.

Muriel's eyes popped.

It looked like a corpse with its skin peeled back falling into a pit of contorted nude bodies.

Muriel blinked and ignored her own reaction. She shrugged. "This seems to have been drawn well."

"It is too painful to see?" the princess asked as if that was the most normal question in the world.

"Perhaps ... but that doesn't meant you shouldn't sketch whatever you wish." Muriel retreated a bit more. "I ... I don't feel outraged. I only feel pity for all those victims, even though they're imaginary."

Moving her pencil aside, coldly eyeing her sketch, the princess said, "That's an appropriate emotion, isn't it?"

"Yes, Madam." Muriel went back to her seat and took more of her tea.

When the princess tired of her sketching and painting, she had her hands washed and took Muriel to the music room for some entertainment. The princess played a tune with a flute while Muriel worked with the now practically ȧssigned piano. It was a nice time.

Unfortunately, the castle's butler hurried into the room and interrupted them. "I'm terribly sorry, Your Highness, but we have a problem that requires your judgment."

Holding her flute in the air, the princess turned to the butler and asked, "What sort of problem?"

The butler said, "A maid seems to have been caught stealing. The golden dagger was found under her bed."

"Under her bed?" repeated the princess. She put her flute on a table. Strangely, there wasn't any anger in her face. "Find my cane and bring the maid here as soon as possible."

"Yes, Your Highness," the butler answered before leaving.

Princess Arya rose and made a light gesture towards Muriel. "Up, Muriel, stand up. We have a show coming."

Muriel obeyed. There was a concerned little crinkle between her eyebrows. "A maid stole a golden dagger?"

"That might be the case," the princess said, "but I must ask a few questions. The golden dagger is a piece of art that normally hangs over my favorite fireplace. One must wonder, dear companion, why in the world someone would be foolish enough to steal something that would be so easily missed."

With a slowly growing smile and a nod of her head, Muriel said, "That's a fine thing to think of, Madam. You're very clever."

"And you're a little sycophant." The princess actually winked at her! "I expect nothing less from you."

Muriel just couldn't be angry. She absolutely couldn't. "Pay me enough and I'll give you every compliment in the world."