Chapter 4 Fits of Anger

As she stumbled, Logan held onto her to steady her. His touch was gentle and that made Getrude weak in the knees. Butterflies hovered in her stomach, making her forget herself.

"Can you not stand on your own?" He asked coldly. The smile which had been on his face previously was wiped off completely and a blank countenance took over his expression.

"I-i-i" stammered Getrude, steadying herself and taking a step back from him. He let go of her abruptly as soon as he saw she was able to stand as if she were a plague or disease.

"I shall get going my lady," he said with a bow and a tight smile.

"Um, wait!" She called out as he walked away from her. She was not sure what she wanted to say to him, but she did not want him to leave her presence just yet.

"My lady?" He rolled his eyes and turned his back to face her, plastering a fake smile on his face. Getrude could tell the smile was not genuine, but at least it was progress from the cold looks of unveiled hatred he often gave her.

"You do not have to call me my lady," Getrude said after minutes of silence. "We do not have to be formal to each other; we are like... family."

Logan tightened his smile and raised his brows comically. "That will be inappropriate of me, my lady. I ought to give you the respect you deserve."

"No, I am being frank with you. I would prefer it if you called me by name."

"Again my lady," Logan replied, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "It will be inappropriate for me to call you that. It is also a crime punishable by law not to address you formally."

"Not if we are family."

"We are not family," Logan said coldly. "Your mother has made that clear."

"So this is about my mother?" Getrude asked, quite heartbroken. Since Logan had been staying with them, she had never heard him call "Getrude" just once.

"It is about being respectful."

"Well, at least call me by my name when we are alone."

"There has never been and there will not be reason for us to be alone."

"Because you avoid it."

"Because I do not see the point," Logan said. "There is no reason why I should be in the presence of the high and mighty alone. I am not worthy." He said bitingly.

"Why do you hate me so?" Getrude asked, fighting the feelings of despair and the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes.

"Dear me!" Logan gasped. "Who am I to despise the princess?"

"Do not deny it," Getrude said. "Never have you once looked at me the way you look at others- especially Delilah!"

The moment she said those words, she regretted it instantly.

"I cannot look at you the same way I look at people of my caliber. It will be disrespectful."

"Smiling at me?" Getrude was glad he did not accuse her of stalking him.

Logan said nothing.

"Do you treat me this way because of how my mother treats you?" Getrude asked. She knew her mother was always wicked to him.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you maltreating me because of my mother?"

"Who am I to do so?" Logan asked. "Apologies but I do have to correct your statement my lady. The Queen does not maltreat her subjects. She disciplines them when necessary."

"Goodness me, you're impossible!"

"My lady, your governess awaits you." Sierra was glad she had found Getrude again. The girl has escaped do avoid lessons.

"I suppose I can be on my way?"

Getrude shot him a cold look and walked away angrily.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*

"Get out of here!" Getrude screamed at her governess the moment she walked into her study room. "I do not wish to see your face."

She flung the cushions on the chair away, and swiped the vases off the table in anger, sending glass shards about. The water spilled as well as the fresh flowers. She stepped on the glass shards, ignoring the sensations of pain it sent to her brain and sank onto a plush couch, folding her legs up. The blood from her legs stained the baby pink material the couch had been covered in.

"My lady, as I have taught you previously, such behaviors are unladylike." The governess was unfazed by Getrude's behavior. She had been her etiquette tutor since Getrude could walk and talk a little and she was used to Getrude having such fits.

Getrude has always been fierce and somewhat boyish. It was of recent that she started to behave more lady-like but the governess could tell that it was false; just so she would be left alone by the Queen and to avoid putting her (the governess) in trouble for not doing her work well.

She knew that on certain days, Getrude would revert back to her violent behaviors. It was just a matter of time and mode.

"I said get out!" Roared Getrude, throwing a cushion at her governess. She was annoyed at how Madame Fyn was unfazed and how she easily ducked out of the way. Madame Fyn knew most of her tricks so it was easy for her to do so.

"Getrude," Madame Fyn said in a soft voice, moving closer to the fuming girl. "Calm down, and process your thoughts."

"Let me be!" Getrude said, sniffling.

"What is wrong dear?"

Madame Fyn, having been tutoring Getrude for years, was like the mother Getrude never had in many ways. They fought constantly, played and laughed together. Madame Fyn gave her advise, bought her gift items her mother would not have bought her. She trusted Madame Fyn to the extent that she confided in her, but sometimes Getrude hated Madame Fyn for just one reason.

She was too perfect and knew her too well; even better than her mother.

Madame Fyn knew when to be firm and distant- treating her with respect like the princess she was; she also knew when to be friendly and jovial.

"I have just made a fool out of myself," Getrude sobbed hard, burying her head in her hands.