30 May, 1358. Magdaline Castle, Islia
Camilla sat under the shade of the silver birch trees in the west facing gardens of the castle, a length of blank tapestry across her lap. She had never particularly enjoyed embroidery but Elizabeth had convinced them all to help her embroider a new altar cloth for the royal chapel.
The four of them giggled as they each tackled a corner of the tapestry and listened to Meg relay the latest court gossip she'd overheard in Princess Violet's rooms.
"Prince Thomas has been formally betrothed to Lady Eleanor De Buer and they will be wedded this coming winter. Rumour has it when the prince was told, he drank himself into a stupor and got into a ferocious argument with the king. The two of them are barely on speaking terms now."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "The prince is brave for thinking he can go against the king's choice."
Katerine sighed, "I feel sorry for him if he's that unhappy. I know the De Buer family will provide a good dowry but sharing a bed and a life with someone you dislike, just sounds miserable."
"Especially that dragon." Meg said quietly. Lady Eleanor was well known for her fiery temper. "King Edward considers the matter settled though. I guess that means that by the end of winter, the king will have no unmarried sons left."
Elizabeth nodded. "That's the nature of marriage. There's always the chance your family won't take into account your preferences when arranging your future, especially for a girl. I was fortunate that Father negotiated for me to marry a decent man. I don't love Archibald but I think I can grow to care for him."
"Grow to care for him?" drawled Meg. "Oh my. You make marriage sound so appealing."
"Archibald treats me very kindly, he listens to my opinions, he doesn't drink or beat me. All things considered, I could've ended up having to marry a lot worse." Elizabeth clapped back, then paused. "Princess, were any betrothals ever discussed for you? Surely your father and uncle had plans in mind?"
"They could never agree on which Moraigthian lord I should be wed to. Half of the tribal lords are allied to my uncle and the other half despise him. You can guess which pool of lords my father looked at for my future husband." Camilla smiled ruefully. "Though I think my father would have done his best to find a good man for me. But if I were to return to Moraigth now, I'm sure my uncle would marry me to someone despicable, just for spite."
Katerine sighed. "Do you think a love match is too much to hope for?"
"Yes." The other three responded almost in unison.
"It's almost unheard of in royal and noble circles. Then again, my parents had a love match." Camilla admitted. "But in some ways, that makes things harder though because I know any marriage I eventually make, will never compare. I also saw how much Father suffered when my mother died a few years ago. At least when you marry someone you don't know or love, you're protecting your heart from the possibility of such pain."
Meg shrugged. "And even if you start a marriage with the best of intentions, there's always the chance that the love eventually fades. Take the king and queen, for instance. Apparently they were quite besotted with each other in their early years together."
Camilla couldn't imagine the gruff old king as either young or besotted. She looked across the garden, where a group of young knights were loitering. All strangers. She shuddered at the thought of being bound for life to a stranger and vowing total obedience to him.
For a girl, marriage was little more that slavery. The best you could hope for was a benevolent master.
- - -
William noticed a few of his men standing around the garden fountain, obviously trying to get the attention of a group of ladies sitting under the trees. One of them tossed a silver coin to his companion, snickering.
"What are you doing?" William asked.
"Making a wager on who will successfully deflower the Princess of Moraigth." said the younger of the two men.
"That's if there's anything left to deflower! I hear the women from the countries of the north are terrible whores." scoffed another knight.
"Well once I've had her, I'll let you know if she's been sampled before. She looks like the type to faint with terror if a man so much as laid a finger on her. Then again, that could just be an act. Wouldn't be the first woman to act the virgin."
William fired a look of exasperation at his men. He was somewhat irritated that the men were speaking disrespectfully about Princess Camilla. He was more irritated at the thought that one of them might be successful in seducing her.
If he had been unsuccessful in getting her attention, surely these other men would fail as well?
He looked over at her, looking young and pure and endlessly tempting as she stitched the large piece of fabric on her lap. They had barely spoken the last several days because he didn't trust himself not to make a fool of himself. He thought back to Tession's words a few days ago, when the old man had told him to make an effort to win the princess over instead of looking for a potion.
How did one make an effort, exactly? Did Tession mean he should try to befriend her? Court her properly? William wasn't remotely interested in either of those things. He just wanted to taste her and feel her bare skin against his.
Shaking his head in disgust, he realised he was no better than the knights currently placing wagers around him.
"Would you care to join our wager, Your Highness?" he heard one of them asking.
"No."