by John Benson
Dinner in the Residence is a lot less grand than you might think. I mean, sure, Papa goes in for pomp when pomp is called for, but in private he's actually quite frugal, so the great porcelain chargers and the gold washed silver and the hand cut crystal were all locked up safe and what we had was a rack of lamb with little caramelized potatoes on tin glazed earthenware and a decent mid-priced Red with a little bark and a little bite. There wasn't even a servant except between courses, so we didn't have to be on our best behavior.
"I take note of the fact you're lonely," Papa said. He only uses the royal 'we' for company.
"Because I'm moping, or because I mention it at every opportunity, sir?" I asked. That 'sir' was very calibrated. I needed to afford him a modicum of courtesy, without letting him think he'd got the upper hand.
He grunted. "Been looking for just the right thing," he said. "Finally, I found just what I wanted, a servant who grew up as the daughter of a noble house which fell on hard times. Someone with decent manners, someone you might become friends with."
A servant. Papa wanted me to make friends with a servant. "And since you own her, you can still control everything, right, Papa?"
He sipped his wine. A little dribbled down his chin. I touched mine to let him know, and he grimaced and used his napkin. "Yours, actually," he said. "I'll give you title. She can be your confidant, and I won't pry. But you know how fond I am of killing two birds with one stone? She'll also be your disciplinary surrogate. Your whipping girl."
I felt a sudden chill. "Oh fine. Let me get close to someone and then torture her to make me behave, I get it."
Papa smiled at me. He does that when he thinks he's winning. "You're kind hearted," he said. "Your basic empathy will out, whether you're very good friends with her or not. But there's also a broader symbolism, my dear. When a ruler messes up, it is usually subordinates who suffer. It's a lesson well worth learning."
Birds and stones were flying 'round my head. Oh how I hate it when he corners me. "I'll agree to meet her," I said. "Give it a try, at least. But if it works out to be a net minus in my view, I'm going to give her back." I knocked back a rather large slug of wine. Papa took the decanter, and calmly refilled my glass.
She was a shy little thing in her servant's short hair and her servant's way short linen shift and her eyes were huge and she looked as if she could bolt at any time, like a wild thing in the woods. "Your highness," she said timidly.
Hearing that hurt my teeth. "Sonja in private, please," I said. "Being 'her highness' is not my favorite thing at all."
She straightened. Looked surprised. "No?"
So she had a little spunk. "No," I said. "If I had my way, Papa would marry one of those mistresses of his and make a boychild and get me off the hook."
She giggled. "Oh," she said. "I never thought anyone thought being the future Queen was a bad thing. But just a second if we're going to talk."
She prowled all around my sitting room and then my whole apartment, picking up things I hadn't known were there. Gray faceted sparkly things with rainbow hearts which moved in and out of focus, and she wrapped them all in a piece of cloth and threw them out in my back garden. "There," she said. "That's better."
I knew my own place better than that, didn't I? "What were those things?"
"Listening crystals, Your Highness."
I cleared my throat. "My what?"
"Um, Sonja."
"There. That's better. So, listening crystals, huh? Just like Papa, send me someone to be my confidant, and then spy on me. What a dork."
"Not your father, unless he's a Sorcerer."
Oh. Sure. Be technical. "So a Sorcerer working for my father."
"Or in opposition," the girl said.
I paced. Being flustered didn't make me very polite. "Hey, you must have a name too, right?"
"Well..."
"Come on, I don't bite."
"Well, my family named me Nikki, but now everyone just calls me 'girl.'"
"I'll call you Nikki. Want to trade life stories? Just the short version, for now."
"Well..."
"Come on, I'll go first."
I saw vulnerability in her eyes, the vague stirrings of hope. "Well, okay."
I relaxed a little. "Well, I guess I couldn't have a normal upbringing, Papa being who he is and all, but ever since Mama got killed by Republicans, it's gotten worse. For my own safety, he says, but I feel unfree. I'm like the beasts in his menagerie, too rare and important to be let come and go."
"Gee," said Nikki. She actually looked sorry for me, which no-one ever is. "Well, okay, let's see. My family are country folk, minor nobility, and my father caught land lust and went and borrowed to buy more, and then it was the drought and the plague of locusts and the Sorcerers were all on strike and one couldn't be had for gold nor girlflesh, and he had to sell me to pay his debts, and here I am."
So unfair. So damn unfair. She hadn't done anything to warrant this. "Life sucks," I said.
She sighed. "I thought I'd wind up staked out on a four poster and used for major fuckage," she said, "Instead, I'm here to get a whipping when you're naughty. That's better. I think that's better."
I felt myself grin. "What have you heard of me, Nikki?"
I watched prudence war with honesty on her pretty little face. "I, um, I hear that you're good-hearted, but also quite a brat, which means I'm probably going to get it lots."
Not fair. I don't know what came over me, an excess of fairness, maybe. "Let's swear an oath," I said. "I'll swear that every time you get punished for something I did, as soon as we're in private, I'll let you give me what you got, just as bad, and you swear that as soon as possible, you'll actually do it. Not can do it, not might do it, will do it, without fail, okay?"
Her large eyes were shiny with moisture. "You sure?" Nikki asked in her soft little voice. "You know they're going to cane me, and the marks won't fade for days."
My bottom clenched with dread, but my almost finished oath drove me, needed to be completed. "I'm sure," I said. I seized her hand. "I swear on all that I hold dear."
"I swear on all that I hold dear," little Nikki said. "You're going to get it good."
I dressed her up in dark green silk and dragged her to dinner with my father, and Nikki fretted. "What if I'm not invited?" she whined. "I'm just a slave."
Hmpf. We'll see about that. "I just invited you," I said. "Besides, you're the highest ranking member of my retinue."
"I am?" She blinked.
"Sure. I have no retinue. Papa suggests names for ladies in waiting, but they're all the daughters of his allies, and I smell spies. So I don't invite them. You're the first one I've decided to trust."
"Because you own me," Nikki said. We reached the dining room and there were three place settings, so Nikki needn't have worried. She was invited, after all, and Papa breezed in and he was being charming.
"Your Majesty," little Nikki gushed, and she genuflected with amazing grace. My father preened.
"'Sir' will do, my dear," he said. "No need for such formality when no-one's watching."
"Why, thank you Sir," said Nikki. "I must say you're different than I'd expected."
Papa seated her as if she were some special guest, and then he seated me. "Less daunting in person, I hope," he said. The man was flirting, the slut, and I was getting jealous.
"More handsome," Nikki burbled. "Seems odd you've not remarried."
For a second I felt worried for her. Papa doesn't like personal questions, but he was still on his best behavior.
"Because the women I fancy wouldn't make good Queens," he said, "with one notable exception."
They came in and served the soup course and a fresh young White. "Don't you have enough conquests, Sir?" I asked, letting a bit of spleen seep through. "Must you turn little Nikki's head?"
"Oh, it's just a harmless game," said Papa. "We both know it isn't going anywhere, don't we, Nikki?"
She colored. "Oh yes, Sir. I would never. Gosh."
I should have left it there, but I had my dander up. "Oh sure, like it wasn't going to go anywhere with that dancer, what was her name, Amy? Or that actress, Connie? Or who was that tavern wench?"
"That's quite enough," said Papa. I should have been listening to the sharpness of his tone. I should have been reading signals from Nikki, who was frantically gesturing me to drop it.
"Fuck you," I said. I realized the gravity of what I'd done when I saw the horror in little Nikki's eyes.
The meal progressed in polite frigidity. I tried to catch Nikki's eyes. Don't hate me, I begged silently, I messed up, don't hate me. We all refused dessert. Papa took us to a sitting room where men usually retire to sip old Port and smoke cigars, and poor Nikki must kneel on the seat of a plush chair and lean across the back and the assistant steward came and flipped up her pretty silk skirt and bared her hind and gave her six awful whacks with a thin and whippy cane and poor Nikki cried out and I saw the weals come up, parallel lines of angry color on her lily white behind, and I thought about my solemn oath and wondered how strong Nikki was, and how angry she'd be with me, and I knew I deserved what she was getting. There's plenty of ways to be rude to Papa without crossing the line into crudeness, how could I be so stupid? And then it was over and Nikki softly sobbed, and as the steward withdrew, I asked him for the cane.
Back in my private apartments and Nikki's eyes were red but she'd calmed down some and I still had the cane in my hand and I knew I was going to go through with this. How come? My word was important to me. I couldn't break my oath. Sure it had been unwise, impulsive, but if I was to be punished for an excess of zeal, so be it. The light cane felt suddenly heavy in my hand.
"I messed up," I said. "I'm sorry, but you're going to make me sorrier. You're going to keep your promise." I held out the cane to her. She stared at it reluctantly.
"I don't know," she said. "Fairness might appeal to you in abstract, but once you really get it, you may not like me, and my life could get quite icky."
Damn. She had a point. "But you promised, Nikki. I can't like you if you don't keep your promises."
"No?" She blinked big liquid eyes.
"No. But if you fulfill your oath, even at some personal risk, now, well, I'd have to respect you." I pushed the cane toward her and she took it. In a way I was almost glad. I found a plush chair of similar dimensions and knelt facing its backside and held up my own skirts and bent over, feeling vulnerable and even a little silly, and I shook as I heard her move behind me and my heart beat and she struck me and it hurt a little. A little? "Nikki, was that full force?"
"Um, well, not exactly."
"I saw what happened to you and it was terrible. So what I get has to be terrible as well. Please? It's in your own self interest. If I learn my lesson, they'll stop beating you."
I heard it before I felt it but then my hind bloomed with a line of liquid fire and I cried out and wondered how I could possible survive five more like that, but I did, and for the first time in my life, I paid in full for a mistake.
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