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Truly,

Remember that book I told you about? It goes over everything from controlling my temper to arranged marriage protocol and how to select the proper colored doublet for different banquets. I tried to avoid reading it. I considered letting it accidentally fall into the fire, or out the window into the moat, or maybe even gouging out my eyes. But because of my little stunt with Hubert, Mother has all my tutors forcing me to memorize passages, and they are all teaching about etiquette and proper behavior now. Mother says it is the area of my education that has been grossly lacking, and it is time this error is remedied.

So now, my languages tutor is requiring essays on how to maintain a more dignified image… in three different languages! Any chance you want to write one for me? You would have to change your handwriting. Though I think you have a broken arm like I do, so it shouldn’t be too hard to do. And then, make your perfect writing a tad messier, and our conspiracy will never be known!

My weapons instructor is trying to teach me how to sit stiff-backed and not bounce my head to keep my crown nice and steady while I parade down the corridors. It is actually the most amusing lesson—we just sit and stand and walk around my room (did I mention I am still not allowed to leave this infernal chamber?) while balancing books on our heads. I thought this was princess stuff. Maybe that is why Mother is making me do it—to make me suffer! If only I was a commoner and could get a whipping and be done with it! But no…

Hope your recovery is going better than mine!

Yours Truly (get it?),

Curtis

CHAPTER 43

I hungrily read letter after letter, regretting deeply that I hadn’t read these sooner. I hadn’t known about his broken arm. Or being confined to his room. His stories made me smile. These letters would have cheered me up so much if I had but stretched out my hand and opened them.

Dearest Truly,

I hope you are recovering quickly. I asked the physician about you several times, but he said he isn’t allowed to talk about his other patients to anyone, and to stop asking or he would recommend me be gagged for medical reasons. I would threaten to have him removed as royal physician, but he would know it is a bluff. I have no more power than a scullery maid right now.

For your entertainment today, please imagine me walking around my chambers in naught but my woolen long johns, balancing my etiquette book and a cup of tea on top of my head while reciting a history of our noble country in Latin. Because that is what I was doing this morning. The tailor was trying to find a way to modify my clothes to fit this giant cast into my sleeve. That is also the reason the right sleeve of my long johns has been cut away and none of my other clothes fit. So in my long johns I stay.

Anyway, there I was, traipsing back and forth and telling about the construction of bridges during King Turk’s reign, with a book and tea on my head and feeling utterly ridiculous, when my new mannerisms instructor, a woman, came in suddenly. I guess the sight of me in cut apart long johns with tea on my head and a tailor sticking pins into me while having Sir Eugene listening to me prattle on was terrifying. So, if you heard shrieks reverberating off your walls this morning, that was my doing.

Sincerely,

Curtis

Truly,

It has been a week since I have been confined to my quarters. I hope you are getting my letters. I wouldn’t put it past Hubert to be intercepting them as revenge. Hubert, if you are reading these, you will be getting another punching just as soon as my arm heals, I don’t care how many etiquette lessons I get!

Truly, I feel like a toddler having to sit out of play time. I am so tired of staring at these same four walls. I wish I had a portrait of you. And these tutors have me working my fingers off with all the essays and recitations and history lessons. I am amazed that my fingers work at all anymore. You would think they could let me rest since I have a broken arm and was shot with multiple arrows, but I guess healing in peace isn’t princely enough.

My tutors keep telling me that with great power comes great responsibility. What a joke! I don’t even have power over how I can position my legs when I sit in a chair.

Yours Truly,

Curtis

Truly,

I was finally allowed out of my chambers. I saw Comfort today when I came to call on you. She said you have been mostly unconscious and in a lot of pain. I was hoping to show off my arm all bound up in a splint and cast and have you swoon over my battle scars, but I guess that will have to wait. I left some flowers for you, along with all of my best wishes. I was very sorry to hear about your father. I didn’t know until Comfort told me today. His funeral is tomorrow. I will tell you about it in my next letter if you aren’t well enough to attend yet.

Sincerely,

Curtis

Truly,

Your father’s funeral was today. Your mother said you are still unconscious and still very ill. She looked ill too. I can’t imagine having a spouse pass away. I think that would break anyone. I hope your mother is able to feel some peace. I’ve always thought that after we pass on, we go to a place where there is no pain or suffering, and we can watch over the ones who we left behind. I’m sure your father is watching over you and your sister and mother now. I am sorry if my previous letters seemed insensitive at all, though you probably haven’t been awake to read them yet. I hadn’t known your father had passed away.

The service was sad. I mean, it was a good service—everyone liked your father and had nothing but good things to say about him. But sad because no one wants to see anyone die early, and your father was still young. People talked about his dedication to his country, his passion for his work, and the love he had for his family. Your mother said that he was the love of her life and a part of her died with him.

Comfort sang a song, but it was hard to hear the words because she was crying the whole time. They released some doves and scattered his ashes by the lake. Everyone who knew your father tossed flowers into the lake, and there must have been hundreds of flowers all floating there just as the sun was setting. When it was my turn to place a flower, I told about the evenings I spent with your family, listening to him tell stories, and the fishing trips with him. I put in a flower on your behalf since you couldn’t be there. It was a lily. Your favorite.

It was a sad funeral, but nice because we were able to remember all the good things about your father, and it was a beautiful place to be put to rest.