<span style="font-style: italic">"So be it..Barbaric is a fitting title, My Lady.”</span><br/><br/>Genevieve heard the solid thud of Motto's heavy grown hit the cobblestoned pathway. So, he was angry, was he? It was just one more nail in her coffin. Surely now he would send her away. She would be forced into a marriage upon returning home. Without her purity, Genevieve would have no choice. The thought fueled her anger, but Genevieve did not speak. She merely stood in the silence between them, her breathing even, yet shallow. Her eyes flicked to her right where she spotted Motto's discarded crown. It was noticeably dented.<br/><br/>Without a another glance towards Motto, Genevieve spun on her heels, dipped into an appropriate curtsy and "Your Majesty." before walking away. He was angry. She was angry. All it took was one thing said and whatever hope she had of staying would whither. Not that she had much hope anyway. So, Genevieve left Motto alone in the gardens. She needed to be alone, to think, and having him near would only distract her.<br/><br/>By the time Genevieve had made it to her rooms, word had spread to her maids of the argument in the gardens. Both Mildred and Lavern sat in her room with pensive frowns. Knowing they wouldn't tell anyone, Genevieve recanted their argument as they helped her dress for bed. "I-" Genevieve paused to take a deep breath. She was sitting in her shift now in front of her vanity while Lavern braided her long hair. "I'm afraid he's going to send me away." She was a far cry from the woman who<span style="font-style: italic">wanted</span>to be sent away a week ago.<br/><br/>Lavern put her hands upon Genevieve's shoulders. "Nevi... Don't you think you are angry with the wrong person?" Genevieve opened her mouth to give an indignant no, but winced as she thought about it. Motto had confessed to her, her first night there, that he had no hand in the arrangements. That his advisors handled everything. His advisors and...<span style="font-style: italic">her father</span>. Genevieve's hands curled as she gripped her shift. Lavern was right. She had been angry with the wrong person.<br/><br/>"What can I do?" Genevieve pleaded with her maids, her brow tapered up and eyes wide. "I made a complete<span style="font-style: italic">fool</span>of myself." Genevieve was unsure what she was feeling. Regret, to be sure, sorrow for blaming and no doubt hurting Motto. She was still angry, but she was unsure if it was more at herself or her father. And worry. How could she fix-<br/><br/>"You could apologize." Mildred's voice interrupted Genevieve's thoughts. Yes. She had to, no<span style="font-style: italic">needed</span>to apologize. Genevieve hardly waited for Lavern to finish her hair before she stood. Genevieve lovingly picked up Motto's robe, which she had taken the night before, and donned it. She was put to ease almost immediately. He would accept her apology and she would get to stay.<br/><br/>The flowers and petals still littered the corridors between Genevieve and Motto's chambers, guiding Genevieve in the direction she needed to go. Many a servant stopped and looked upon Genevieve's robed form as she had to force herself to walk. It wasn't that she was walking around in shift and robe, but that the robe belonged to the King.