In Which a New Sort of Trouble Arrives in Bentlefay

From the diary of Dulcie, Crown Princess of Bentlefay

I am no longer quite certain of my own name after such a month, but almost all the hostages have been packed away and we finally have a modicum of peace. The captains and Prince Hugo are awaiting formal treaties, but the barracks were full to bursting with Marshweather’s men and there were beginning to be fights, so we were happy enough to accept the offer of one of its ladies to exchange their safety for hers. I had thought it very fine and patriotic of Lady Marta Figglesworth to make the offer, until she got here and I realized she was simply soggy about Prince Hugo, who now doesn’t seem to care if he ever leaves and has made himself utterly at home.

Lady Marta arrived with a small retinue right at the beginning of the receiving (I shall have to ask Mother to teach me that trick; it’s very effective and everyone seems to do it). The majordomo came in and thumped his staff as he always does, and we all looked up, but as his mouth opened, there came a sort of half-cry, half-whine in the background. I couldn’t decide at first if it was an infant or a cat, neither of which made any sense, but it soon resolved itself into a breathy, drawn-out “Oooooo!” and Lady Marta burst into the room. She paused for a fraction of a second like a bird alighting on a twig, and then hurled herself bodily on Prince Hugo.

“Lady Marta Figglesworth,” said the majordomo, glumly.

She was very tiny and dainty with round black curls, round blue eyes and a round red mouth. Considering she had just made a long journey over varied terrain, her blue silk gown was spotless and unwrinkled, and not a hair was out of place. As she cooed over Prince Hugo, two battle-axe maids and four middle-aged men in light armor came in and stood inside the door, looking harassed. I didn’t blame them – I was beginning to be exhausted myself, and she hadn’t been in the room five minutes. I could only imagine what traveling with her would be like.

Hugo suffered the attention with a beet-red face and a gratified expression for a moment or two, before Father got tired of waiting and cleared his throat. The two sprang apart guiltily and Hugo stammered into speech.

“I beg your pardon, your majesties. This is Marta. I mean, this is Lady Marta Figglesworth, my betrothed. Darling…” I hadn’t thought it possible that he could get any redder, but Hugo is a creature of extremes in many ways, apparently. “…please meet King Davin of Bentlefay, and…and Queen Christina, and…the princess.”

His mouth opened and shut, and I saw that in the stress of the moment, he had managed to forget my name. “Dulcie,” I said. It sounded rather flat.

Lady Marta curtsied prettily for Mother and Father, but when she got to me she clasped her hands to her bosom and her eyes filled with tears. “Oooo, I am ever so happy to meet you after all that Hugo has said, your majesty. I’m just ever so grateful to you for not flirting with him at all. We’re ever so newly betrothed, and I’m just ever so worried he’ll change his mind, and I’m ever so certain I won’t, and you’re just ever so beautiful, you must know that, mustn’t you? And I’m sure you’re just ever so kind.”

“Not at all,” I said rather lamely. “I mean, I’m sorry it caused you worry. I would never flirt with Prince Hugo. Believe me,” I added fervently.

Mother cast her eyes up briefly and Rafe smothered a grin that Hugo fortunately didn’t notice.

“There now, darling,” he said tenderly, “didn’t I tell you?” And the two of them stood back together and beamed at me, affection and stupidity radiating from every pore.

It’s been less than a full day since she got here and it seems like weeks. She has talked about herself tirelessly and without so much as taking a breath for the entire time. She is only twenty and has led a sheltered life, so none of it is even slightly interesting, but that doesn’t stop her. At least she never expects an answer, so I shall see if I can’t learn to ignore her completely. It won’t hurt me to get a little bit of exercise in diplomacy, and I doubt Lady Marta will even notice.