The Most Beautiful Eyes Ch. 08

The Capital Season was here again, and even though Muriel missed the castle already, she was happy to witness all the excitement. She was even a little bit jealous when she saw a woman walking a small dog in a park.

In the townhouse, Muriel and her mistress took a short rest and ate a light breakfast. Then they went to a pleasure garden so they could enjoy a small concert, and then a light walk through a world of nearly perfect flowers. Then, they had to go to some other woman's townhouse for a small lunch party.

The host was a duchess of some kind. Muriel thought that she might have been related to the royal family. She was an old woman with a gray hairstyle that likely had someone else's locks weaved into it. When Muriel was first introduced to the duchess, she curtsied slowly and deeply, and she tried to be polite. Then she heard the duchess say to Princess Arya, "I've seen this girl before. Last year, at Count Freyl's ball in the Raver's Hall."

"Oh," the princess said, "I didn't realize you were there. If I did, I would have greeted you. You must forgive me."

"There's no need," insisted the duchess.

A few days later, Muriel was at a ball with Princess Arya when they happened to see that duchess again. "Oh, you have that girl with you," the duchess said.

"Yes, Your Grace," said the princess. "She's my loyal companion. She's often with me."

"That's right, I suppose, but I'm wondering about something. This gown she's wearing, she had it on at the Raver's Hall, didn't she?"

Princess Arya smiled and told her, "Muriel's a frugal girl. She refused to purchase a spring wardrobe this year. She declared the concept to be frivolous. Recently, a young man tried to gain her favor by offering her enough money to purchase four times what I'd spend on my own wardrobe. What did this girl do?" The princess made a fluttering gesture towards Muriel as she laughed. "She asked what he would give her during their next conversation, his entire estate? Then she told him she'd never accept such an embarrassing gift."

The two older women shared delicate laughter and then they parted ways.

Muriel wondered why the princess had told the duchess such a story. It seemed to be obviously based on the issue with Prince Vidar, but with some notably different details. What was the princess' goal?

On the carriage ride leading them back to the townhouse, Muriel asked the princess about it.

"I was only making conversation, Muriel. Aside from that, it's good for you if I say those kind of things to everyone. Potential husbands love to know about a beautiful woman who won't spend money as if there are no limits."

"Hmmm, I suppose that's logical," Muriel said with a frown.

Some more days later, Muriel saw her family in a park. The princess let her have a few moments to chat with them. She was pleased to see that her father's face was pinker and fuller than before. It warmed her heart.

"Little Ferret," Glen Devin said as he patted her hair and stroked her hands, "we have fine news. Sarana's betrothed! Isn't that lovely? The good man's a count from the north."

Muriel went to Sarana and lightly took her hands. "That's fantastic! My sisters will both be nobles. We couldn't ask for a better outcome."

Sarana put on a doll-like smile that Muriel knew was false and true all at once. True, because she was happy. False, because there wasn't anything friendly there. "This was to be expected, wasn't it? Evelyn and I listened to Mama's teachings, didn't we?"

Feeling something snooty directed at her, Muriel put her hands to her lower belly and smirked at her older sister. "Now now, is my sister implying that I'm unwilling to listen to others? I listen very well, and that's how I know whether to follow advice or ignore it."

Turning away from the mildly disagreeable expression that grew on Sarana's face, Muriel said that she needed to return to her mistress. After all, money is linked to time, and the less time she spent with the princess, the less money Muriel would have.

***

Princess Arya had to be at the Royal Court again. The women had to gather up their biggest, loudest, most glittering clothing. Dressing down was not proper etiquette when visiting the Royal Court. It was essentially a dress code. Thankfully, only the elites were required to go.

Muriel was almost silent, and her eyes were often down, as she followed her mistress around. But one morning, during a private tea party with the king, something unanticipated happened. The king, the high and mighty Thorvaldo, he turned towards Muriel. Then he said with a tired, almost thoughtless voice, "This is almost a tragedy."

Muriel lowered her head and kept her mouth shut. She didn't know if the king was speaking to her or not.

Princess Arya asked, "What's the meaning of that statement, Your Majesty?"

The king said, "This woman's far too beautiful. I wish she'd been around when I was young."

Princess Arya laughed and told Muriel to refill the king's cup. As Muriel obeyed, she heard the princess say, "She's my new favorite in this world, aside from dear Vidar, that is."

"But I've seen this gown of hers before," the king said. "She had it last year."

"Muriel didn't purchase a new wardrobe this year," said the princess. Then she gave the same tale to King Thorvaldo that she had given to the duchess.

Abruptly, there was a new man's voice. "What a nonsensical story!"

The voice was almost melodic, but there was something gruff hidden in there, something that had a taste and a tangible feeling to it ... like when one puts their fingers against their front teeth. It was a thick and tingling feeling, an irritating thing that made one cringe. But Muriel was able to hold onto a cool visage. She slightly turned her head to see the man that had interrupted their tea party.

Peach colored breeches, matching coat and waistcoat, embroidered blue flowers and gold buttons, lace ruffles that fell from behind the coat's cuffs and grazed a set of tanned knuckles, this was a tall man with a mildly lean figure. He didn't seem physically weak, but he wasn't a thick beast.

"Oh, Dear Girl!" the princess suddenly said, putting her folding fan before Muriel's face and leaning into her. "You have a crumb of food on your cheek! Poor thing! Let me help you!" As the princess turned Muriel's head back, sweeping a nonexistent piece of food away with her thumb, she quickly whispered into Muriel's ear, "Don't look at that man's eyes, no matter what."

"Hm? Mother?" the man said. "What are you whispering to your companion?"

"What are you blathering about, you silly child?" Princess Arya asked with the strictest tone Muriel had ever heard from her, moving away from her companion. "I have nothing for you."

"Nothing for me?" said the man as he stepped closer, and Muriel knew he was stepping closer. She heard his shoes on the veranda's floor. "Not even a familial embrace?"

King Thorvaldo directed his suddenly grim voice to the man. "Don't embarrass me again, Boy."

"I'm hurt, so hurt, to be accused of something by my father, honestly." He didn't sound hurt at all. His footsteps halted right behind Princess Arya and Muriel. He could have moved between them if their skirts hadn't been in the way. Muriel was looking at her recently emptied teacup.

"This is meant to be a private meeting," Princess Arya said with a tone that was like the point of a pin, sharp and precise. "You weren't invited."

"But shouldn't I be included in these sorts of meetings? When I inherit the throne, how am I to keep it if I'm not current with the most important things?"

Crown Prince Emil Petran, the eldest son. Muriel was afraid to look at his face. She reached for the teapot and poured some tea into her cup. Then she placed the teapot back into its place. Before her fingers could unwind from the pot, she felt nearly glass-like flesh on her chin and jaw, and her face was turned to her right and upwards.

Her throat convulsed.

The Crown Prince's face reminded her of a painting she had admired some time ago, a painting of a young man wearing a pink outfit with a pattern of dandelions and leaves. A handsome face, angled cheeks, tanned flesh, black hair.

But here was the coldest brown eyes she had ever seen.

"Oh," the prince said down to her with an amused voice, "the rumors are true. You do have wintry sea eyes."

"Emil!!"

That was Princess Arya. She bolted up from her seat. Her skirts bounced and rustled. Her chair fell back and brattled on the wooden floor. She seized Prince Emil's wrist and tore his hand away from Muriel's face. Muriel touched her face, right where she had been gripped, still feeling the man's touch.

And the back of Princess Arya's hand whipped through the air, right against Prince Emil's cheek. The cracking, prickling noise that sang in the spring air frightened Muriel. Her free hand covered her pink lips and her eyes grew maybe twice as large as before.

Prince Emil didn't touch the spot his mother had hit. He only straightened his head, shrugged, and walked off. He went back inside the palace with an unconcerned gait.

Muriel thought she might faint. She reached back and gripped the edge of the tea table.

"Calm down, Muriel," the princess said as she gripped one of Muriel's arms. She spoke to the king. "We'll take our leave early, if it wouldn't be any trouble."

The king sounded like he wanted to take a nap. "Go on. We've finished the most important matters anyway."

Princess Arya led Muriel away then.

When Muriel was in her temporary room in the palace, alone and sitting on the edge of the bed, she wondered about the stressful events from before. When the Crown Prince took her face in his hand, he had been incredibly rude. He had no right to touch her face that way. Why did he do such a thing? It was so ... so amazingly wrong. He hadn't even been introduced to her, and he just ... touched her as if they were in a courtship.

For the next few days, the women stayed at the palace. They were able to avoid the Crown Prince. But, the day after they had returned to the townhouse, Muriel received a letter from that prince. It came with a lacquered box.

"Please accept my sincere apology for my obtrusive behavior at the Royal Palace, along with this present." That was what the letter said. It was more of a short message than a letter.

Muriel's throat filled with slime as she opened the box. Then the slime froze. The gift was a hair ornament, an aigrette of silver and diamonds shaped like a plume tied with a sparkling bow-knot.

Princess Arya lightly pressed her shiny fingernails into Muriel's shoulder as she instructed, "Send a reply accepting the Crown Prince's apology, but return the aigrette. It's not in your best interest to accept that."

Muriel was very grateful for those instructions. She wrote a polite response to the Crown Prince and had the expensive ornament sent back to him.

A few days passed, and then a new letter and box was sent to Muriel. This box was significantly larger than the last. The letter read, "My gift must not have been sufficient. Please take this new one." Inside the box, there was a massive decoration for a stomacher, a triangular arrangement of gold, diamonds, pearls, and dark blue sapphires, all shaped into sparkly flowers.

"Return that gift," Princess Arya firmly said, "and write an apology, but be strong. Let him know that you are not going to accept any gift from him."

Muriel nodded and obeyed her mistress.

They didn't hear from the Crown Prince again, or at least, not for the rest of the Capital Season.

***

Splendid autumn, giving it's yearly encore, taking its enjoyable turn, it put an optimistic sentiment in Muriel's heart. As she gazed out the carriage's window and looked at the Vantrim Castle, she thought of Prince Vidar. She hoped he hadn't been too lonely, but she was also looking forward to being tied to a chair, having her sight temporarily put away, and having the prince speak to her in his gentle voice.

They ate breakfast in the castle. Then the butler came with two gifts from Prince Vidar. Princess Arya received a beautiful round flower table. It had three tiered levels with small yet deep holes for little flower vases to be placed in. The wood was rich and shiny with lacquered images of dancing people on the thick edges of each tier. "What a lovely piece," the princess said as she lovingly stroked the beautiful wood.

"It seems to be a useful yet graceful present," Muriel said with a grin.

"That's true," the princess said. "Now why don't you go see what present you have?"

Muriel nodded and took a pretty box from the butler. Inside, there was a new doll. It was designed to look like a woman who had likely come from one of the far off nations with blistering deserts. Her skin was very dark, as close to literal black as humanly possible. Her chocolate colored eyes were shiny and intelligent. Her lips were painted a subtle brown with a hint of red. Her hair was kept in a wrapped turban-like garment on her head; it was a vibrant emerald green and had shiny brooches. Her walking dress was yellow with blue stripes. Her little shoes had delicate rosettes.

"What a precious woman I have here," Muriel said as she lightly held one of the doll's hands in her fingers. "I'll set her beside my other doll. They'd be good friends."

And as Muriel put the darker doll beside her previous doll, she wondered how many different dolls Prince Vidar had. Had he ever given any to his mother? The dolls were definitely important to him. He had apparently worked hard to make sure each one was unique and lovely.

Then she wondered if he made the dolls because he was lonely and wanted to see more people.

Maybe he needed to get over himself and accept the fact that he was ugly.

***

"Did any men flirt with you?" Prince Vidar asked.

"Yes, Sir," Muriel said with a light nod.

His fingers were on her right shoulder. He seemed to be crouching beside her. His warmth was on Muriel's right and the hand on her shoulder felt like a left hand. His voice shuddered a little. "Ahhhhh ... they must have been delighted. Your exquisite figure ... tightly kept in pretty gowns ... and your bosom shining in the candlelight. You must have enchanted them as you danced."

"I wish you would have come to the capital," Muriel said gently.

The fingers on her shoulder curved tightly, but Muriel felt no pain. "You should've used the word could."

"Is that so, Your Highness?"

His voice was a bit strained when he next spoke. "I ... I can't even set you free. I can't let you reach out to me. How can a creature such as myself go off to the Capital Season?"

"Are you truly so awful that you can't leave this place?"

Aside from their breathing and the heaving fire, there was no sound for a time. Then, the quiet was sliced through with Prince Vidar's next statement. "You're a curious woman. That's an appealing trait, but it can be a dangerous flaw too."

"You didn't answer my question."

He stopped gripping her shoulder. Then he patted her there. "I'm not required to."

Muriel swallowed down a groan. "I'd love to dance with you for a change."

"I'm sorry."

She couldn't get him to say anything else about it. He refused to acknowledge the concept of ever going out in public ever again.

Perhaps two weeks after that conversation, Muriel received two of the oddest presents. They were dolls, but they were a bit different from the previous ones.

The first one looked nearly exactly like the blonde one that looked like Muriel. The differences were in her hairstyle, makeup, and clothing. Her hair was up in a teased and fluffy style, decorated with with strings of pearl-like beads, small white feathers, and pink fabric roses. Her lips were red and her cheeks were rosy. She wore an elaborate ballgown in a pale blue color with so many festoons of white lace, pink ribbons and bow-knots, and more false pearls, that her wide skirt nearly seemed heavy. More false pearls and bows were on her stomacher in neat rows.

The second doll was a man. He looked like that handsome man in the painting, that man that was practically haunting Muriel's brain at this point. Of course, he also looked like the Crown Prince, but different. His brown eyes weren't cold. They were open and tender. His dark hair was held back with a purple ribbon; it trailed down to his waist. His coat, waistcoat, and breeches all matched. They were a shiny gold with dark blue and bright red fruits embroidered on the cuffs, near the shiny black buttons, and down the sides of the breeches. He was ready for a ball.

Muriel was happy to display the pretty dolls in her bedchamber. They had obviously been made with care. Yet as she looked at the two dolls, their eternal expressions looking strangely cruel in a teasing manner, Muriel's nose heated and prickled. She nearly sobbed into her hands. She had to take a wet cloth and press it into her closed eyes in order to calm her nerves.

***