"I can handle myself." I insisted, pacing around the war council table where dad sat with Archibald Pretantitus, my sword play instructor. "You've both seen my skills, and it's not just useless practice. I was at the battle of Muck Water Ridge."

Father soffed, and Archy rolled his eyes, saying, "You defended yourself against a lone goblin with a homemade spear. A hardened battle master, that does not make."

Father piled on further, "If you are going on this diplomatic quest, then you must be accompanied by a personal healer. That's final." His voice took on a hint of pleading, quite rare for the king. "Don't think of her as a body guard, sweetheart, think of her as a new handmaid who just happens to be able to revive you should you perish."

I huffed in anger. This specification did make me feel better, especially knowing I could tell everyone she's a handmaid. Of course, I couldn't show to my father and teacher that I would so easily agree. "Fine, but I want to get something out of proving myself." I nodded, trying to seem confident rather than thinking on the spot. "If... When I return from this mission successful and safe, you will give me command of a battalion."

Archy opened his mouth to protest, but father silenced him by simply raising a finger. "You have a deal." He said, and raised his finger to me when I began to celebrate. "If this goes well, but if you or any one of your envoy returns injured or does not return at all... Well, you certainly won't have proven yourself."

I nodded solemnly, knowing the gravity of my responsibility, yet confident I was up to the task. "She's in your chambers now." He added finally in his gruff voice. "Go say hello, become aquainted."

I gave him a nod and swiftly exited the war council room. My heeled boots clicked against the stone floor of the castle hallways, and I couldn't help looking at my portrait as I passed by the main hall. I looked so strange in that missive, frilly dress all the court ladies wear. In the painting, my brown hair was tied up in a massive, ornate bun, rather than shoulder length. My face was hidden under all the makeup, even my precious scar. It ran along my jaw on the right side, a faint wisp of imperfection. Father's healers did their best to keep it from "marring" my face, but secretly I'm quite glad they failed.

I ripped my gaze and mind away from the uncharacteristic painting, adjusted my trousers, and began toward my chambers. When I arrived, I raised my hand to give the door a rap. Realizing it was silly to knock on my own door, I opened it, and wished immediately I had knocked.

There sat a young woman, maybe 2-3 years my junior, on my couch. In her hands she clutched a bundle of white cloth, her face pressed into it mid sniff. Her eyes shot wide as I entered, and she launched the cloth across the room in a frenzy. I immediately burst into laughter as I watched my mamillare unfurl and flutter to the floor. The girl's face turned redder than any apple I'd seen as she began to stammer, "I-I-I didn't think, uh, I didn't-"

"You didn't think I'd walk in on you sniffing my underwear?" I chided playfully, crossing the room the pick up the cloth. My room was modest for a princess. No massive canopy above the bed, no personal tub for bathing, and no enormous rack of expensive dresses. Guests often comment on the room being furnished like a barracks, yet the size of a royal bed chamber. That's a bit of an exaggeration, seeing the plush couch and decently sized bed.

"Underwear?!" She shouted in disbelief. Clearly she had no idea what she'd found. The poor girl began to hyperventilate, probably thinking she'd be beheaded for perving on the princess.

I held up the cloth she'd pitched. "This is a mamillare. Women use them to hold our chests down while we fight, train, or do any number of physical activities."

"I'm so sorry m'lady! P-please forgive me I just found it and it smelled like perfume!" She begged frantically. I couldn't help a soft chuckle as I set my mamillare on the bed. I crossed the room to her and offered my hand.

"I will forgive this transgression, perhaps, if you accompany me to the wine cellar." I said, putting on my best princess voice. I already knew that this little dear would make for great company. She tentatively took my hand and kissed my knuckle.

She replied "Yes your highness, of course, anything."

"And what might your name be?" I queried.

"Ward." Was all she offered.

"Well, Ward, I am Elanor Baignard. A pleasure to meet you." I said, taking my hand from hers and giving her adorable head a pat. She had fair skin, almost the color of a washed eggshell, and her hair was the dark red of wet bricks, hanging around her head in curly locks. Freckles were spread over her round cheeks like stars strewn across the night sky. I felt something rising in my stomach as I stared at her, and quickly broke away with a fake laugh.

"What are we going to do in the wine cellar?" Ward asked as she rose from the couch and smoothed her dress with her hands.

"Steal wine, obviously." I replied, flashing her a rougish smile. Her face turned red once more.