11. Too Puffy
Athousand stars sparkled down on the mirror-still water. Tyrell watched Lia as she gazed at the glimmering reflections. Seeing the ocean so calm made him wonder if ol’ bluey had used his terrible magic to turn off the wind and hold the ship at bay.
Then again, the calm brought a welcome respite from the lurching and bouncing the ship underwent as it had left the Allysian dock earlier that day. Poor Lia had been stumbling all over the place, but as with everything, she persevered. She had even laughed when she stumbled into him.
Or maybe he had stumbled into her? Admittedly, he didn’t really have any sea legs either.
Suddenly, Lia smiled down at the water and laughed through her nose.
Tyrell, overcome by curiosity, came and leaned on the railing beside her. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh?” she glanced up at him. “Nothing, it’s silly.”
“I gathered that, since you’re laughing,” he grinned.
She shook her head then said, “I just remembered this stupid game the princess and I used to play when we were children. We called itToo Puffy.”
“Too Puffy?”
“As I said, stupid.” Lia shook her head. “The princess would put on the puffiest dress she owned and demand I make it puffier. I’d run all over the room finding ruffles and pillows and anything I could to make her outfit ‘puffier’. Then, if she fell over, I won.”
Tyrell laughed. “How old were you?”
“Oh, ten, I think.”
“My Uncle Lavern could have won that game,” Tyrell commented. “Or Prince Erich. Did you see what he wore to the ball in Iseldis?”
“Now there is a man who knows how to stand out in a crowd, but do so with grace.” She motioned along her shoulders, remembering the prince’s dramatic outfit. “Although I would call that more feathery than puffy.”
“What bird even grows feathers that long?” Tyrell laughed.. “Perhaps we should find his seamstress and ask for a similar dress for the Greenreign Festival back home for you.”
Lia snorted. “Well, I much prefer when Princess Tavia is playingToo Puffy, perhaps I’ll suggest she hire Prince Erich’s seamstress . . .” Lia’s expression fell as she remembered she no longer worked for the Princess. “. . . Or not.”
They both stared out over the black, sparkling expanse for a long moment.
“I wonder,” Lia mumbled. “If I could do something with this.” She gestured outward.
Tyrell glanced sideways at her. “What do you mean?”
“For the princess,” Lia shrugged. “Like a black gown, with pleats like waves and diamonds all sewn in so it sparkles when she turns.”
Tyrell tried to picture Princess Tavia so attired but couldn’t—she always wore light colors, pinks and yellows and whites.
“Why not for yourself?” Tyrell suggested.
“Me?” Lia scoffed.
“Why not?” he shrugged.
“For one thing, maids don’t wear gowns with diamonds sewn in,” she explained. “And for another, the very first thing my grandmother taught me was, ‘a maid must never outshine her princess.’”
“Well, I think,” Tyrell answered. “After everything you’ve done for her, she should give you one day to shine in your own right.”
Lia rolled her eyes.
“You’re a kind man, my Lord,” she mumbled. “The princess is a fool for rejecting you.”
Tyrell’s expression fell, he hugged himself with his arms and shrugged.
