Chapter 34: My Queen's First Lesson
The next day, Lianza was waiting for me in her private room.
Opening the door, I found her standing by the desk. Without glasses. Hair loose over her shoulders. The class uniform replaced by a simpler one, without embroidery. An open book on the table. Two chairs facing each other.
Her garnet Empero was controlled. Too controlled.
"Close the door," she said without looking at me.
I closed it.
"Sit."
Sitting in the chair across from her, I waited.
Lianza remained standing. Walking around the desk, her steps sounded on the wooden floor. Each heel was a metronome.
She stopped behind me.
"Do you know why you're here, Elcronne?"
"For the note."
"For the note," she repeated. "The note where I said I'd give you etiquette lessons. Because you made a fool of yourself in front of thirty-five nobles."
"Yes."
"Because a professor humiliated you," she said, then added through gritted teeth: "How dare she humiliate my bodyguard?"
I looked at her. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips so pressed together they nearly disappeared.
"Yes."
"Because you can't even do a proper curtsy. Aren't the Elcronne educated to be the finest servants in all the nobility? How is it possible that you, the heir of your house, are so clumsy at it?"
If I told her it was because I was a transmigrator, she'd look at me like I was crazy. I could tolerate the looks of disdain, bewilderment, or shame from other nobles, but never from my Lianza. Never that.
"Perhaps I didn't have a good teacher," I replied with a roguish smile, looking her in the eyes.
"But I didn't call you here for that, Dariel Elcronne. I called you because my ears learned that you, my personal bodyguard, someone who is my property, dared to hug a girl by the rainbow river. You didn't even have the discretion to do it privately: you did it in front of six witnesses."
"Lian... My lady, it's not what it looks..."
Her hand struck the desk. A book jumped. A page bent.
"It's never what it looks like, Dariel Elcronne." She walked until she stood before me. Her garnet eyes looked down. "Sir Aldric. Lady Bethany. Four other nobles. They all saw you hugging Lady Durania Sandahll on the riverbank. Do you want to know what the hallways are saying?"
"Truthfully, no."
"I don't care. I'll tell you anyway." She leaned in. Her face reached mine. "They say the Dog at Her Heels now plays with any bitch that crosses his path."
[🤣🤣🤣]
Stay out of this.
I stayed silent. No defense to offer. It had been my decision. I preferred public scorn, being labeled a casanova, over watching my Lianza suffer from the punishments of the entity behind the Harem System. Explaining that without being called a lunatic, however, was impossible.
Would anyone believe me if I told them about a buffoon cosmic entity that used me for its own entertainment? Even I wouldn't believe it.
"Nothing to say?" Lianza asked.
"It wasn't romantic."
"I don't care if it was romantic or not. What I care about is that my bodyguard is generating gossip that stains the name of House D'Tariel." She straightened up and her Empero began to emanate cold.
Raising a hand to one side and concentrating her Empero, she generated a rod of solid ice.
"Sit up straight," she ordered, pointing at me with the rod.
Adjusting my back posture, I sat straighter.
A poke in my lower back.
"Wrong."
Readjusting my posture as straight as my back would allow, I tried again.
"Better," she nodded, then added: "Hands on your knees. Legs together."
Obeying, I placed one foot parallel to the other and my hands flat on my knees.
Three pokes this time: one on the tip of my left foot and two on my palms.
"Wrong!"
Lianza walked around me, adjusting my hands and feet. Noticing I had slouched again, her fingers grabbed my left shoulder and pushed it backward.
"Always straight. Don't waver."
"I'm already straight."
"You're not." She pushed my right shoulder. "Your shoulders are uneven. The left, lower than the right. Do you know why?"
"Why?"
"Because you never stop carrying the weight of Lianza D'Tariel's stack of books under your left arm. Always the left. You've been doing it for three months. And your body has grown accustomed to it. It has deformed."
I looked at my shoulders. She was right. The left was a centimeter lower.
"From today on, alternate arms." Taking a chair, she sat across from me. "First lesson: posture. A noble never carries weight on one side only. Weight is distributed. You must carry the same amount of books in both arms. If there's nothing, walk with both arms free."
"Understood."
"You haven't understood. You've heard. Understanding implies practicing." Opening the book on the table, she continued. "Page forty-three. The noble curtsy. The one Wilda made you do."
"The servant's one."
"Exactly. You did it with a closed fist over your heart." She stood up. "Stand up."
Standing, I faced Lianza. One meter apart. Her garnet Empero brushed mine; I hadn't expelled it, but it lay inert in a thin layer over my skin. Garnet red against black. Ice against words.
"Observe."
Placing her right hand open over her chest, the left swept outward with elegance. She bowed. Back straight. Chin parallel to the floor. Eyes low, but not closed.
"This is the basic noble curtsy. Used before equals." She straightened. "Your mistake was closing the fist. A closed fist is a military curtsy."
While Lianza explained, I couldn't stop staring at her face with a dopey smile.
"The closed fist," she continued, "is a military curtsy. Of soldiers. Of guards. Of nobles, never."
"But I am a guard. Your guard."
Lianza pressed her lips. Her cheeks showed a hint of blush.
"You're a noble of House Elcronne." She looked at me. "Low birth, certainly, but noble." She pointed at the space between my eyebrows with her rod. "Act like one."
"Why do you care? I'm just your bodyguard and, as far as I know, I'm fulfilling my duty."
"Because you belong t—"
Lianza pressed her lips. Her cheeks showed a hint of blush.
"I don't care," she feigned. "I care about the name of House D'Tariel. If my bodyguard does servant curtsies, people will think my house can't even educate its own staff."
A lie. I knew it. But I accepted it with a slight smile.
"Do it," she said.
Standing up, I positioned myself.
Placing my right hand open over my chest, the left swept outward. I bowed.
Lianza grabbed my left wrist. The cold of her touch seeped through.
"Slower. The sweep must be like a caress. Be gentle." Her soft fingers guided my hand outward. "Imagine you're drawing back a curtain. With tenderness. Without tugging."
Doing it again, slower this time.
"Much better," she smiled, then released my wrist. "The chin. Parallel to the floor. Lower it. Raise it. Parallel."
I adjusted. A shiver ran down my spine when Lianza touched the back of my neck. My inert Empero vibrated for an instant, responding to the cold of hers.
"Your head is tilted to the right. Center it."
Centering it, I held still. Her fingers lingered a couple of seconds too long on my head before withdrawing.
"Again."
Repeating. Curtsy. Hands. Chin. Back. Every time, Lianza found a flaw. The left shoulder dropped. The right tensed. The sweep was too rough. The inclination too deep.
But such was my Lianza. A hopeless perfectionist who flagellated herself far more than necessary when she made a mistake.
After ten attempts, she stopped me.
"Enough for today." She sat down. "We'll continue next week. I expect you to practice, because I want us to repeat everything we've seen today without a single mistake. And bring your own book. Don't use mine."
"Any particular book?"
"The manual of Etiquette and Protocol of the court of Earolden. Page forty-three. You'll find it in the library. If you don't know where it is, ask the librarian." She paused. "And, Dariel..."
"Yes?"
"Please," her voice cracked for an instant. "Don't hug any more girls in front of the nobles."
"It wasn't..."
"I. Don't. Care." Her garnet eyes burned. "If you're going to stain my house's name, at least do it with class."
She stood up. Walked to the door. Opened it.
"Out."
I left. The hallway was empty. The door closed behind me.
Standing there for a second, I touched the back of my neck, where her fingers had lingered longer than necessary. My hair was cold in that spot.
The Garnet Ice Queen had given me an etiquette lesson. She had corrected my posture. She had touched the back of my neck with the softness of a flower petal. And she had told me not to hug any more girls.
And she had done all of that while trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. Faking, behind her mask of ice, that she didn't care about seeing me with other girls.