So here I am, attatched to the arm of Mr. Universe, 'guiding' him through the Royal Palace, when in all truth I'm completely lost. I'm cringing just thinking about it.
Peanut head here is looking a little agitated. I think he's figured out that I'm not too clear on where we're heading, but like most noblemen here in Tortall, he's too polite to say anything.
I wonder how long I could wander around clinging to his arm before he mentioned that fact that the library still hasn't shown itself? An hour? Two? If I were a little cheekier, perhaps I'd see how long I oculd get away with it. But I'm not, and these slippers I'm wearing are a fraction too small. I just know I'm going to get a blister.
You know, I think Peanut head is a prime example of male godliness. No, that's not too strong a word. He's tall, muscular, with dark eyes and hair, and he's... Just so yummy. Mmm... Like a chocloate mud cake with cream on the side.
Back on topic: Oh Gods. What do I do? Peanut head is dropping subtle hints, like "Ahem,", and "Exactly how large is this palace, my lady?" I don't want to make him angry with me...
Oh, geez. Only I could get myself into a situation like this.
I AM SUCH A DOOFUS!
Oh, hi Neal.
"Hello, Squire Nealan."
He bows. "Good evening, Lady Gemma."
"Neal, this is Sir Peanut head of Tyra. Sir Peanut head, this is Nealan. Neal, would you accompany us to the library?" (I am just too clever.)
The men exchange amused glances, I wonder why? Is my petticoat showing? No. But there's no time for wondering. Neal must have guessed what I've gotten myself into - he's taken my other arm, and is subtly leading me to the libaray.
Ah, thanks Neal, darl. I knew I could count on you. I've known it ever since you wouldn't leave Kel to go the the little exams alone.
Aha! Here we are! And look. That's where the king was standing when I met him.
You want to know something? No? You already know plenty? Oh well, I'm telling you anyway.
My mother says I fall in love too easily. Pah.
That just sprang to mind, sorry. Um... Where was I? I've lost my train of thought.
Oh, here it is. I'm jumping on - hups-a-daisy - and back to where I was.
The library.
Peanut head is thanking me profusley. Over to you, Peanut head...
"Thank you for escorting me here, my lady. Squire Nealan. If you would excuse me?"
No, I wouldn't. I've been through too much with you to abandon you here, Peanut head my darling. Marry me and we'll have some little Peanut heads. We'll buy a little castle in the country and...
"Actually, my lord, I was going to catch up on my reading. I'm making a study of - um - nuts and their healing properties. Walnuts, I've found, are remarkably good for coughs and cold, but peanuts are best for..."
Cuddling up to before the fire!
"...stress relief."
I haven't overdone it, have I? Was that believable? Yes, of course it was. Neal turns to go. Bye, honey. Shut the door behind you, if you would.
"Good evening, Neal. I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yes, of course Gemma. Nice to meet you - ah - Sir Peanut head."
And he's gone. Thank Mithros. Now, back to Peanut head...
Chapter Nine
In Which Gemma is Embarrassed Beyond Belief
Peanut head takes a seat at the far end of a large wooden table, produces some parchment from somewhere and begins writing. I go browsing for a book on nuts and their healing properties. Of course, I'm not actually expecting to find one.
Oh, Gods. What's this? A large, leather-bound book, smelling of - well, leather mostly, but a little of nuts. It's called, 'Nuts and Their Healing Properties.'
Who on earth wrote this? M. Calft, Esq. Heeheehee. M. Calft, Esq. needs to get a life. Imagine writing a book on nuts and their healing properties?
Imagine embarking on a study of nuts and their healing properties? Which, of course, is what I've just done. Peanut head probably thinks I'm very weird.
Oh, well, he can be weird by name if I can be weird by nature. I think that's fair.
I sit about half a metre away from Peanut head, and open the book. Ugh. It's filled with dust. Must be pretty clever dust, though, if it managed to get into the book.
Gods, I AM weird. What a revelation. I always told myself I was highly weird, but I've never really believed myself (come on, who would?) until this moment. Why? Because I am seated beside a very yummy knight named Peanut head, in Tortall, reading (or pretending to be) a massive book entitled 'Nuts and Their Healing Properties'.
We're silent, Peanut head and I. It's actually quite a tense silence. Who will break it first? If I were you, I'd put your money on me.
"Excuse me, my lady."
Ha ha, you lost your bet. That was Peanut head.
"Yes?"
"You are making a study of Nuts and Their Healing Properties, correct?"
"Yes, Sir Peanut head."
"Do you think it might be wise to take a few notes to aid your research?"
Ah, I see. That's how it is. He's been sitting there, quietly furious that I'm not studying correctly. He must be pretty goddamn finicky...
"Very good point indeed. May I borrow some of your parchment?"
"Certainly." He passes me two sheets, and our hands brush. I smile sweetly at him and ask to borrow one of his quills, too. (I wonder why he has two?) He silently hands me one, and pushes his ink bottle closer to me so we can share. I open 'Nuts and Their Healing Properties' at random and start copying down the recipe for a cough remedy made mostly of almonds.
There is a pause, and my quill scratching on the parchment sounds unnaturally loud. How does he make his glide effortlessly across the parchment like that? It looks so at home in his big, brown hands...
"Excuse me, my lady," he says tentatively.
"Yes?"
"Well – forgive me, but I couldn't help but notice you address me as Peanut head. Were – were you insulting me?"
My blood is running hot and cold. "Ah – no, I – I misheard you when you told me your name, that is all. My apologies."
At least I told the truth. It almost makes up for my feeling so stupid I could happily just sink through the floor, and land on the head of whatever unsuspecting victim is in the room below me. Gods, I hope it's not the King...
"My name is Sir PENDILEAD, my lady. And please do not feel bad. Your error was quite amusing, at least."
"Yes, of course, Sir Pendilead. If you'll excuse me? Thank you for the parchment and quill." I give him back him quill and the sheet of parchment I didn't use. I roll up the sheet I wrote on (the ink is smudging, but never mind) and make my hasty exit.
I have never been more embarrassed in my life. He'll probably still be telling the story of Gemma the Stupid when he's ninety to his great-great-great-great grandkids. (hey, it's possible. They have children young, here in Tortall.)
Whereas I, when I'm ninety, will be hunting Pendilead down with the intention to kill, so he can't tell that story any more, and disgrace my name even further.
Or maybe I'll just be dead.
Oh, to be ninety.
