1 Chalk Dust and Insults (1/2)
The road was smooth under the carriage wheels which Isilla was glad of.She had so many questions and it was worlds easier to write them when the ride wasn't making her chalk bounce across the board. Her nerves had begun to make her thoughts race. The chalk dust clumped into a gray paste on her palms, damp with sweat. She wiped it on her skirts.
Haribit tsked at her from the seat and snatched the hand holding the chalk. Isilla frowned as the handmaid used a cloth to wipe it off, stealing the damp stump of chalk and replacing it with a fresh piece. Across from her, the other two girls giggled.
Isilla went back to the board and wrote quickly, This isn't funny!
The girls laughed again and one of them, the younger one, Gazta, pointed at her skirts, ”You're meeting your husband covered in chalk paste and dust!”
She felt her frown deepen and a hot blush rise to her cheeks.
”Gazta! That's enough!” Haribit snapped from beside her. The girl was the closest she had to a friend. She had been assigned to the castle for over a year, usually the Handmaids only stayed a few months but Haribit's land was poor and her father thought being closer to court would land her a good marriage. Unfortunately for him, Isilla, the princess she was tasked with did not live inside the castle walls.”Don't let her get to you Isilla, you know the southerners have no class.”
Gazta made a dismissive noise in her throat and looked out the window, the girl next to her laughed quietly behind her sleeve. Isilla lifted her chalk to apologize for Haribit but then decided not to. Gazta would be gone in a few weeks anyway.
The girl mumbled outside to no one in particular, ”Some princess, can't even do simple magic.”
Isilla crinkled her nose but decided to ignore the jab. Gatza was right, she couldn't do magic but she was a princess and she was on her way to marry her prince.
What do you think he's like? she asked showing the board to Haribit.
The girl pulled closer to her, letting their legs touch. Inside the bubble of Isilla's silence the other girls wouldn't be able to hear. ”You've already asked that,” she said rolling her eyes.
Isilla wiped the board with her sleeve, I know, just tell me again.
”I'm sure he's very nice. You're the one that has been writing to him. How did he seem? He was very handsome in his portrait.”
She let out a breath remembering the portrait that he had sent. His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, his eyes, ice blue over a perfect nose. He was very handsome. A true Prince. The best marriage she could hope for given her affliction.
She tugged at a stray curl of hair. He had responded favorably to her portrait but it had been a picture of her at what could be her best. Her honey colored skin was clear and free of the chalk dust that followed her like a cloud. Her hair had been pulled into a pleasing array of braids and beads just for the sitting. Now after weeks of travel her hair was in its normal state of curly red puff. The girls had tried to tame it with braids but it seemed dedicated to unwinding itself. I'm a mess. He's going to hate me, she wrote on the board.
Haribit fussed at her, ”Hush, after your wedding night you two will be able to get to know each other better.”
She pushed her hand down to fix Isilla's hair. She tucked the flyaway strands behind her ear and pulled the swiftly coming undone mess into a braid. ”Well, it may not look very Princess like but it's better than nothing. I'm sure we'll have time get you changed and cleaned up before you meet anyone important.”