“Good,” he said, apparently taking pity on her. “Then let us continue. Did you notice anything about any of these women yet?”
“The r- Lady Marianne was very unpleasant. She did her best to insult me and acted strange around Ingrid. I don't think you'll want someone that mean.”
“It's not your place to decide what I need in a queen, girl,” he said. “It might be nice to have a woman with a bit of backbone for a change. What else?”
“Everyone seem so tense. I don't think they're very happy, sir.”
“Good.”
“Sir?”
“I want them to pull out each others' hair and scratch out some eyes rather than forming friendships. Anyone sent home from here will be our enemy, and we do not want our enemies to unite against us. Anything else?”
“No sir.”
“Good. Well, continue like that, but make sure no one else leaves. I have yet to make any kind of decision for or against any of them.”
The prince turned away, running a soot covered hand through his already messy hair. He sat down on the chair behind the desk and threw a small gemstone into the green flames. Catherine did not see a difference, but she assumed there was a reason why he did so. She looked longingly at the door and made a small coughing noise. The prince looked up at her, eyebrows raised.
“Can I leave now, sir?”
“No.” His gaze returned to the flames. After a few moments they flashed a ghastly purple and exploded in a dense cloud of black smoke. She heard the prince coughing and scrambling to get out of his chair before the smoke enveloped her as well, making her eyes water and cutting off all air from her lungs. She panicked and tried to find the doors, but she found herself completely blind.
A clanking, rattling noise came from the prince's direction, and for a few, horrible moments, she felt certain that he was abandoning her for death and escaping through the window. Then the smoke cleared as quickly as it had appeared. She found herself on her knees on the floor, the magnificent orange dress she had been dressed in covered in soot from the fireplace, her hands clawing at her throat.
The prince smiled at her.
“Sorry about that, my dear. I did not think it would be that bad. It seems I owe you thanks instead of more scolding. Helena would have been a very bad choice indeed.”
Catherine, still choking, neck burning where she had scratched herself, and in tears over the ruined dress, looked up at him without understanding.
“What,” she coughed.
The prince took a small, ruined bracelet from his desk, apparently the source of the gemstone he had thrown into the fire.
“I tested it, she was so kind as to give me a little token of friendship before she left. Magic. The smoke would mean either death or war. Maybe insanity, I am not absolutely certain.”
Catherine stared at him for a moment.
“I have destroyed the dress,” she whispered. The prince looked at her as if she had just fallen from the moon, then smiled again and waved his hands at her.
“You can destroy them all if you want. You need to stop worrying about that.”
He pulled the chair back up and closed the window, that must have let out the smoke. Catherine rose again and, deciding against asking for permission to leave again, remained where she was.
“I will give you a weekly allowance to cover any expenses you might have. That should make you feel better. Five thousand gold pieces should cover it, would you not agree?”
Catherine gaped at him, shaking her head.
“Come now, my girl. I insist. I will make sure an account is set up for you, then you will simply need to speak to Ingrid if you need anything. We will leave it at that for now. It should grow to a pretty sum before you gain the courage to spend any of it, I imagine.” He laughed at his own joke and pulled out a piece of parchment and a pen.
Catherine stood still in front of the fireplace, wishing again that she could leave. She could hear the pen scribbling across the parchment and felt as if she was digging herself further and further into a grave.
After several minutes he looked up at her for a second, then signed the parchment with a flourish.
“Is there any good reason why you are standing up?”
“No, sir.”
He looked up again, then frowned.
“There are no chairs, Catherine. Did you fail to notice that?”
“No, sir.”
“Well then why did you not tell me? You really are not giving me much of a chance to be a good host.”
“I thought you knew already, sir.”
The prince stood up and swung his own chair over the table in a swift movement. He placed it in front of her with a violent push and glared down at her.
“Of course I knew, I just did not think about it since I was already comfortable myself. You are supposed to be a lady, so please make an effort to act like one. If your host does not offer you a chair, you will ask him for one, understood?”
Catherine nodded and the prince stepped back.
“And if anyone insults you, you insult them back. I know you are not supposed to speak, but surely you can think of something. Women are supposed to be good at these things. Send her a look of some sort. Something.”
He stormed out of the room, the door swinging pathetically in his wake.
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