Freja felt a bit like she was dying. Bad enough to have to sit and watch the men at their sport, herself being barred from any competition on grounds of her sex, oh no. They made her sit in the heat to do it. The undersides of each sleeve of her dress already felt damp, and though she kept fanning herself, it didn't seem to be doing any good at all. This morning she had finally asked her mother if she might be allowed to have some new dresses made, and her mother had been thrilled by what appeared to be a more feminine interest from Freja. All she really wanted were sleeveless gowns, and looser ones to boot. And for the sake of every Watcher that ever was, lighter fabrics.
When Khala shooed away one of Rona's companions - something she herself would never have been able to get away with - Freja had to bite the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing. She looked curiously into the pouch she had been handing, not having to ask once she saw what was inside. "Hellfire, I'll try anything right now," she said, taking a long slow pull from it. It was strong and it burned going down, but she at least managed not to cough. Her eyes watered slightly as she waited for it to pass. "My brother," she managed out. "At least two of the princes. I suppose it all depends on your definition of 'interesting.'"