Sitting for her Royal class, Marlowe's attention was far taken away.
Today, she was studying etiquettes, and so far, she found the subject quite distasteful as no matter how she tried, she wasn't able to satisfy the whims of her nagging tutor.
Rather, her mind had been swallowed up in the discussion she shared with her elder sister, Nadine.
She clearly recalled Nadine's response to her question then,
"Is it possible for the crisis at Dhroghen to spread to Valcresh too?"
She remembered the conflicted struggle in her sister's brown orbs, "I guess so, giving the sudden appearance of sorcerers and mages in Valcresh, I'm fully certain this plan is not merely one sided."
"Eyes on the fork, Your Majesty!" demanded the tutor, in a strident tone.
"—Ah," Marlowe nodded after a flinch, elicited from being pulled from her daze.
She immediately threw her head down, consolidating her divided attention on the pair of cutlery in her hands.
By how bad she was performing, she was sure if she wasn't given this title of 'the queen', she'd have been smacked a couple of times—yes, she was that bad.
Back at home, she was used to using a single spoon, or not using any at all.
Eating with her hands; washed—that is, have always given her delight and liberty.
In fact, would it be too overrated if she said it was a first time she was literally seeing an eating knife?
Sigh! This is complex. She thought.
"Grab hold of it like this…Yes, Your Majesty. You're doing a lot better than I thought for a local commoner,"
Oh, and did she forget to add; brazen. Nagging and brazen tutor.
She was way worse to teach than the other lady…what was her name again?…Eleazar, yes. The King's aunt, as she had introduced. Marlowe thought, but soon shuddered recalling what made her decide to keep a distance from her at first talk.
Fortunately, to prevent further embarrassing herself and giving herself more nightmares than the ones she already had, she had asked the maid about the tutor beforehand, relieved to know that she was human.
For a while, she stopped to think, 'Why the special treatment?' but who could she ask.
All those attending to her are pure humans, and not some terrifying creature.
Surely, if the person behind it wanted it otherwise, they would have been no adjusting for her.
But…who was the person behind it?
"You were doing just perfect a while ago, Your Majesty, why the sudden fall out again?" the voice of the tutor drowned her thoughts as she blinked back to reality.
"I'm sorry, let's try again," Marlowe suggested with apology written in her enviable eyes.
Moving amidst her statement, the tutor, Mrs. O'livre, paused once Marlowe concluded. With a tight frown on her wrinkled forehead, she slapped her stick against her palm in one single loud wack.
Making Marlowe jerk unwittingly.
"A Royal, does not apologize without potent reasons," she said.
Seeing all sense of wrong in her statement, Marlowe's brows knitted in confusion. Not wanting to iron it out with her, Marlowe timidly lowered her head down from the woman's sharp and piercing glare. "I understand," she succumbed to her judgement.
"Good, now let's start afresh," she said as she zeroed in on her, making the air around Marlowe feel suppressing.
She held her hands and demonstrated a lot of times.
Only leaving her be when she had finally gotten the hang of it.
It was a horrible day!
Marlowe exhaled audibly, as she fell on her soft bed, her fortress for the day's troubles. And her pillows, the holder of her tears at night.
"Shall I prepare a bath a for you, Your Majesty? You seem exhausted," A maid that wasn't either Merkin, nor Berkel questioned with genuine care in her tone.
"I'm fine, there's no need for that, you can do that later," she said, indulging in the relaxing feel of her bed.
And in fact, she was right. She wasn't physically drained, but mentally strained because of Mrs. O'livre's rants and insatiable whims.
"Alright, Your Majesty," the maid responded before turning to leave.
"Erm, excuse me—" Marlowe vocalized, calling out to the maid.
"Yes?"
"Get me Merkin, please," she requested, fascinating the maid by how polite she sounded.
"Will do, Your Majesty," the maid sprinted out in execution for her orders.
In less than fifteen minutes, Merkin arrived, indicating her arrival with a knock on the door.
"Come in," Marlowe permitted.
"Your Majesty," Merkin bent curtly in a bow.
"Rise, please," Marlowe said.
"Is there anything I can do for Her Majesty?" Merkin asked, curious as to why Marlowe initiated for her to be sent for, without waiting for her to come by herself—just as she always does.
"I'd like to complete my tour," she said with a beam. An abrupt expression crossed her eyes and her mood dropped as she said, "I'm sorry for the way I reacted yesterday, I shouldn't have neglected the rules," she apologized with a sincere heart.
"I hope I didn't bring you trouble?" she asked, her gaze of apology turning into worry.
Still unable to get used to this particular Queen's manner of speaking, Merkin astonishedly stood without blinking for a while, before nodding her head, breaking off with a nervous smile.
"It's fine, Your Majesty, you don't really have to apologize," she said awkwardly.
Seeing Merkin's nervousness reminded her one thing. She had just broken one rule to make up for another; "A Royal does not apologize without potent reasons,"
She still recalled each and every word clearly. With the same strict tone the nagging and brazen tutor used on her.
"Let's go, Your Majesty," Merkin told her.
Approving with a nod, Marlowe rose as she strode out of the chamber first, holding up her gown to allow her more footings.
"This is the Royal library, Your Majesty," Merkin said, as they both looked—heads up, taking in the magnificent grandeur of the library with hundreds of racks turning the place into a maze.
Millions of books aligned in each settlement, and most of all, the quiet and comfortable vibe it exuded made Marlowe think twice about her previous favorite spot.
Perhaps…this could be it.
She internally decided as she subconsciously strolled in more, her sparkling eyes filled with appallment and awe.
Her gaze, grazing across every rack as she used her fingers to trace the books accordingly.
Halting her curious fingers on a certain book that seemed to pique her, Marlowe frowned at the different cover it had from the others, strangely, she felt a sudden pull to touch it, obliging to her thoughts, she raised her fingers towards it, but just then…
"Your Majesty, I think it's time we return,"
If she wasn't wrong, she knew she sensed anxiousness in Merkin's voice.
Baffled, her fingers dropped to her side as she wanted to seek explanation,
"—" but her question was then swallowed back by the loud rumbling of a powerful bell.