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“Biologically, yes.”

Yardon narrowed his eyes. “So that is the way of it. We shall see.”

He turned away with another flutter of his handkerchief. “I have been asked to train both you and your companion in the ways of court.” His gesture included Raven and myself, completely ignoring Rue. “Let me have a look at you.” He motioned toward the far end of the room. “Please walk to the window and back, Your Highness.”

I pressed my lips together and complied, still bristling from his lack of acknowledgment of Rue.

“Perfect! Powerful, graceful, and confident, exactly how a king should walk. Now you,” Yardon said, waving a hand toward Raven.

Raven bowed slightly. “I am not your student, Master Yardon, the lady is.”

Yardon brought his hand to his mouth and regarded Rue with a mixture of overplayed horror. “Please tell me it isn’t so. A nobody? I have taught the highest ranks of the Unseelie, tutored kings and princes. I have never involved myself with a commoner.” He waved the lace-edged square in his hand in Rue’s direction. “Her dress is a horror and the way she stands—” He shuddered dramatically.

“Have a care,” I warned him. I had tolerated enough. “She is my companion and my friend. You will show her respect, or I will leave and take her with me.”

Suddenly a sly smile spread across Yardon’s face. “Now you see my point?”

“That wasn’t etiquette,” I responded.

“Ah, but sire, it is. I simply used words instead of body language to reject her.” He turned abruptly, strode up to Rue, invaded her personal space, looked down his nose at her, and then whirled back toward me sharply. “If I had done this, would you have understood the intricacies of my actions?”

“I would’ve understood that you were being rude.”

“And when everyone else began turning their backs on her, would you then have understood that my opinion mattered to others?”

“I get your point,” I admitted reluctantly, but I wasn’t about to commit to learning all of these inane things without a reason.

Suddenly Yardon’s superior expression cleared away, and an honest, sorrowful smile replaced it. “Sire, I understand your irritation with the superficial nature of the court’s workings. I wish the farce was not necessary. However, such is not for me to decide. Our current king sets the tone in court, and he has been ruling for two centuries, leaving plenty of time for the court to mimic his attitude and his habits.” Yardon grimaced. “If you wish to improve the way the court functions, I will support you with enthusiasm. However, the first step to change is to understand the current structure so one may identify its weaknesses.”

Yardon bowed to Rue. “My apologies, my lady.” He turned back to me. “Now, let us begin at the beginning. How you physically present yourself is of greater importance than your clothing.” Master Yardon motioned to Rue. “Walk to the other end of the room.”

Rue complied. Her slender shoulders hunched beneath Yardon’s scrutiny. She kept her head and eyes down with a general demeanor of a servant wishing to remain unseen, which I suspected was exactly how she felt.

“Halt!” Yardon instructed when she reached the opposite end. “You are walking like an abused servant.”

She had been exactly that mere days ago. My chest tightened at the memory.

“Head up!” Yardon threw his chin into the air with great flare. “Shoulders back and down. You are a queen. Walk as though you owned the world.”

“But I don’t, and I am not,” Rue objected softly.

“Pretend!” Yardon ordered. “You!” He motioned to me. “Show her confidence.”

I almost laughed. However, I complied. Straightening, I squared my shoulders and strode toward her with an overly exaggerated swagger.

Raven snorted, Yardon huffed slightly, and to my delight Rue laughed. It was a soft sound. Her warm green eyes glowed with amusement as she met my gaze. “Somehow, I don’t think that is what he meant,” she whispered as I approached.

“A bit too much,” Yardon called.

“My lady.” I bowed and offered her my arm. “May I escort you back up the room?”

Rue dropped into a messy curtsey and accepted my arm by clutching my forearm with a hint of desperation in her grip. I drew my arm close and covered her hand with mine, squeezing her fingers gently.

“We will survive this,” I assured her.

“I suspect far worse experiences are ahead,” she replied with a soft smile to soften the grim observation.

“But it is better than working at the tavern?” I asked.