"Your highness," Duchess Taylor replies, ducking into a respectful curtsey as well. She amusedly at the ball saddled under my foot.
"A game of kickball. Are your hands still hurt?" she asks with a look of concern. She and her attendants have made it onto the grass and approach slowly, but with purpose. Like any other well-trained noblewoman, Duchess Taylor has long mastered the art of walking with large skirts and tight corsets, appearing to glide on the grass.
Falling back to my childlike facade, I shake my head tenderly, my big, doe eyes gazing up at her as if she were a goddess.
"Marie said that because I'm young, I can heal fast!" I chirp, taking care to show my hands and emphasize my point, the way children are prone to. Duchess Taylor takes note of my normal fingers and nods approvingly.
"Are you any good?" Duchess Taylor changes the subject quickly and nods towards the ball.
