"No, no, Your Highness, the fork goes on the left side of the plate."
"And you must keep your elbows off the table at all times."
"Smaller bites, please! A princess never shows that much food in her mouth."
I wanted to scream.
It had been three hours. Three hours of etiquette training with a rotating cast of palace servants who seemed determined to transform me from "former slave girl" to "perfect princess" through sheer force of will and an alarming number of rules about silverware.
"When addressing a Duke, you curtsy like this—"
"The proper way to hold a teacup is—"
"Never, ever laugh too loudly in public—"
My brain was melting. Slowly. Painfully.
In my past life, I ate ramen straight from the pot while watching anime at 3 AM. And now I'm learning seventeen different ways to hold a spoon.
A knock at the door interrupted what I'm sure would have been a riveting lecture about the strategic placement of napkins.
"Enter," I called, trying to sound regal.
