Kat stalked irritably into the throne room. She was not best pleased.
"Really, Father?"
"Really, Katherina, can you not find something more appropriate to wear?" the king said, frowning.
"Really, Father?"
"I know you have an irrational taste for crude clothing -"
"- practical clothing, but that's not the -"
"- but surely even you can appreciate the need to look your best for such a guest as Prince Beauregard."
"Prince Beauregard."
"Yes, Beauregard," the king said, shifting uncomfortably. "He is handsome, honorable, charming... willing to overlook your, er, peculiarities... I cannot fathom your lack of interest."
"Shall I count the ways?" Kat snapped. "He is dull, timid, and 'overlooks' my 'peculiarities' because he's incapable of seeing anything in me except what a painted canvas could show. Oh, and he's a dangerously irrelevant distraction in this moment of national crisis."
"Crisis?" the king repeated, blinking. "Oh, sweetie, I would hardly call it a crisis..."
"Ogres, border. Miller, dead. Crisis."
"I am sure the generals can deal with that, sweetheart."
Kat's "Right" was slathered with enough sarcasm for even the king to notice. Unfortunately, he chose to press on.
"We can discuss this later. For the present time, please you return to your quarters. Perhaps the ladies-in-waiting can make you presentable in time to ... Katherina!"
She was gone.
"Really, dear, you can hardly blame him," her mother soothed. "He's a mortal man, and he's used to mortal men solving his problems. Including the problem of how to take care of a grown half-fairy daughter."
Kat snorted with disgust. "Even if he thinks that marrying me off is the best way to take care of me, why can't he let me choose someone for myself? Someone interesting, adventurous, clever?"
"Cleverness is overrated in men," said her mother dismissively. "I suppose if you prefer it... but my advice is to stick to kindness and devotion over cleverness."
"Obviously, you followed your own advice."
"And look how well that turned out!"
"Yes, do. My wonderfully kind, devoted father is completely unable to understand why it's a danger that the Miller is dead..."
"Dear, I think the rest of the Fae can keep the ogres out of your father's kingdom just fine."
"But the Miller was the only one who could deal keep the ogres in their lands, and now they'll be swarming around us and cutting off our trade. We need trade, Mother."
"Nonsense. There is enough food for everyone in the kingdom here."
"Not enough wool, Mother. Not enough wax. Not nearly enough iron."
Kat's mother sniffed. "Iron is overrated."
"You mean you don't like it."
"Well, it can't help you with ogres anyway. They're immune."
"It can help with plows, Mother. And axes, and needles, and horseshoes. Useful things."
"Well, if you want help with those... mortal things... then perhaps you'd better see if you can find a mortal to help you."
Kat almost replied angrily to her mother's petulance. Then she paused. Her mother was not a petulant person. Her mother was, however, one of the Fae, a race known for being oblique and difficult. A race which was often most obstructive when seeming most helpful - and vice versa.
"A mortal, you say?" Kat said slowly, swallowing her first response.
Her mother smiled blandly. "A kind, devoted, handsome mortal man, perhaps. I think that might do nicely."
Kat hoped her mother was simply being difficult. Otherwise, Kat would clearly need to leave the kingdom to escape her parents' obnoxious obsession. Eying her mother warily, Kat nodded farewell, then shifted to bird-shape to fly back to the palace. Hopefully, no one would guess where she'd been up to since leaving her father's throne room.
"Really, Father?"
"Really, Katherina, can you not find something more appropriate to wear?" the king said, frowning.
"Really, Father?"
"I know you have an irrational taste for crude clothing -"
"- practical clothing, but that's not the -"
"- but surely even you can appreciate the need to look your best for such a guest as Prince Beauregard."
"Prince Beauregard."
"Yes, Beauregard," the king said, shifting uncomfortably. "He is handsome, honorable, charming... willing to overlook your, er, peculiarities... I cannot fathom your lack of interest."
"Shall I count the ways?" Kat snapped. "He is dull, timid, and 'overlooks' my 'peculiarities' because he's incapable of seeing anything in me except what a painted canvas could show. Oh, and he's a dangerously irrelevant distraction in this moment of national crisis."
"Crisis?" the king repeated, blinking. "Oh, sweetie, I would hardly call it a crisis..."
"Ogres, border. Miller, dead. Crisis."
"I am sure the generals can deal with that, sweetheart."
Kat's "Right" was slathered with enough sarcasm for even the king to notice. Unfortunately, he chose to press on.
"We can discuss this later. For the present time, please you return to your quarters. Perhaps the ladies-in-waiting can make you presentable in time to ... Katherina!"
She was gone.
"Really, dear, you can hardly blame him," her mother soothed. "He's a mortal man, and he's used to mortal men solving his problems. Including the problem of how to take care of a grown half-fairy daughter."
Kat snorted with disgust. "Even if he thinks that marrying me off is the best way to take care of me, why can't he let me choose someone for myself? Someone interesting, adventurous, clever?"
"Cleverness is overrated in men," said her mother dismissively. "I suppose if you prefer it... but my advice is to stick to kindness and devotion over cleverness."
"Obviously, you followed your own advice."
"And look how well that turned out!"
"Yes, do. My wonderfully kind, devoted father is completely unable to understand why it's a danger that the Miller is dead..."
"Dear, I think the rest of the Fae can keep the ogres out of your father's kingdom just fine."
"But the Miller was the only one who could deal keep the ogres in their lands, and now they'll be swarming around us and cutting off our trade. We need trade, Mother."
"Nonsense. There is enough food for everyone in the kingdom here."
"Not enough wool, Mother. Not enough wax. Not nearly enough iron."
Kat's mother sniffed. "Iron is overrated."
"You mean you don't like it."
"Well, it can't help you with ogres anyway. They're immune."
"It can help with plows, Mother. And axes, and needles, and horseshoes. Useful things."
"Well, if you want help with those... mortal things... then perhaps you'd better see if you can find a mortal to help you."
Kat almost replied angrily to her mother's petulance. Then she paused. Her mother was not a petulant person. Her mother was, however, one of the Fae, a race known for being oblique and difficult. A race which was often most obstructive when seeming most helpful - and vice versa.
"A mortal, you say?" Kat said slowly, swallowing her first response.
Her mother smiled blandly. "A kind, devoted, handsome mortal man, perhaps. I think that might do nicely."
Kat hoped her mother was simply being difficult. Otherwise, Kat would clearly need to leave the kingdom to escape her parents' obnoxious obsession. Eying her mother warily, Kat nodded farewell, then shifted to bird-shape to fly back to the palace. Hopefully, no one would guess where she'd been up to since leaving her father's throne room.
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