Princess Majic retreated to her room after the tumult of breakfast. She parked herself at the foot of her bed, clasping her knees to her chest—a pang of hunger gnawed at her, having failed to eat properly, but some indefinable restlessness stopped her from staying put, feeling besieged. The king's apology for his wedding night behavior had pierced her thoughts; it underscored that wrongdoing should not go unchallenged. If the king could seek her forgiveness, why should she tolerate ill-treatment from others without cause? This conundrum looped incessantly in her mind.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Fright seized Majic—perhaps it was someone come to chastise her.
"Who is it?" the princess asked, her voice small.
"It's Yura, princess—I've brought you something to eat. Please, let me in quickly," came the voice from outside.
Majic sprang up and opened the door without delay. Yura slipped in, clandestinely bearing fruit wrapped in cloth.
"Please don't tell anyone I brought this; I could be in trouble," Yura said, her voice tinged with anxiety.
"Thank you," the princess replied and embraced her.
Yura was taken aback, realizing the reputedly haughty and wicked princess could warmly hug a mere servant. Her heart whispered that the tales told of Majic were mistaken. She hurried out, feeling she had done the right thing.
King Fortem and Lady Marila returned to the study, a palpable tension surrounding Marila, who had not foreseen her niece's survival, much less that she'd been harsh to her all this while.
"It appears you now trust the princess's word. I too was taken aback, but I believe her—her eyes don't lie," said the king, gazing out the window.
"Why did you alter your stance? What made you look past the hatred?" inquired Lady Marila.
"I'm not sure. It's elusive; but once I saw her tears and the truth in her eyes, I felt like a wretch," he confessed, his expression forlorn.
"People say the girl had a tough wedding night. Perhaps your majesty was excessively cruel. I won't apologize if I'm offending," Lady Marila intoned, regretting her inability to shield her niece.
"Perhaps it appeared so, and indeed, it was a debasing moment for her; yet my wife remains untouched, still a virgin," the king divulged.
"Your majesty!" exclaimed a stunned Lady Marila.
"While I was tempted, in my drive for alliance security, I faced only a child. That's why I appeal to you for assistance in molding her into a fitting wife. It's not my desire to hurt her, she might be King Carpio's offspring, but it would make me no better than him. Still, I cannot sever this marriage—our realm's peace relies on it. Help me, please," he almost pled.
"I have my reasons to aid the princess, but I ask one thing of you," said Lady Marila.
"And what is that?" the monarch probed.
"Please, under no circumstances in the future, abandon Princess Majic," she implored.
"She will mother this crown's heir. I will not forsake her," the king vowed with heart.
Owing a debt to her sister Karoly, Lady Marila was resolute to guide her niece not just to queenly refinement fit for Fontana's king, but to be a just, courageous, and robust queen, safeguarding the kingdom's fates.
Come afternoon, Lady Marila visited Princess Majic's quarters. The young royal was unsettled by the sight, unsure how to act in the castle where only two had shown kindness: Yura, who bore no contempt, and King Fortem, who, despite his initial hardness, saw to her nourishment and health.
"How fares the Princess?" Lady Marila inquired.
Majic paused, ruminating on her situation—though better than the tower in her father's palace with regular meals, hygiene, and clean garments, and the king's attentive escort, her emotions were still a tangle.
"If you can't articulate an answer, that's fine. Please, princess, sit down. I merely wish to converse. Perhaps you have questions?" invited Lady Marila.
"May I? Will you answer truthfully?" the young princess asked, somewhat unsure.
"Yes, princess, I will speak plainly," assured Lady Marila.
"What does marriage mean? What makes a good wife? And this business of pleasing the king? I try following his lead—is that enough?" queried the princess, her eyes alight with curiosity.
"Marriage is a complex partnership, a vow where two souls, in this case, your majesty and you, share a life devoted to mutual welfare, rooted in fidelity," explained Lady Marila.
"So the king gives me this room, fine clothes, food daily, and wraps for outings, and aids me in the carriage, and summons the doctor if I'm ill, as part of our marriage," interjected Majic, piecing it together.
"In a manner, yes. It's more intricate, but that's a start," agreed Lady Marila.
"I possess nothing. What can I offer the king?" the princess lamented.
"Do you fancy the king?" Lady Marila prodded.
"He can be sour and tempestuous, but his calm smile eases my fears. Dancing, my stomach fluttered—is that fondness?" wondered the princess.
"It could be a beginning," Lady Marila smiled gently.
"I'm still unclear on what to give the king," the princess confessed, confusion lacing her voice.
"Respect, devotion, and make him proud to have you. For the king, a wife stands as unyielding support, partner in joy and sorrow, a bastion in tribulation. Yet, princess, you've much to grasp—protocol, stewardship, home care. You need to be strong and courageous; you seem a skittish pup now. Would you learn these things?" Lady Marila offered.
"Think I can?" Majic inquired, her intrigue evident.
"I am certain. You bear your mother's grace and intelligence and, disliking to admit it, the fierceness of your father. Allow me to groom you into a splendid queen, an excellent spouse, a learned woman," Lady Marila avowed, her gaze locked with the princess's.
Though not fully comprehending Lady Marila's assertions, Majic aspired to grasp more about matrimony and to be a commendable wife, to please her king, she contemplated.
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