Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Ch. 33: ...it Pours

The mood in my bedroom is as somber as a funeral. Attending Ladies’ Court is a slightly more formal affair, requiring maids to put me in a slightly nicer dress than usual. As a maid ties ribbons around my knees to keep my stockings from falling, Marie wrings her hands nervously as she runs me through the game plan.

“Your highness, Ladies’ Court is when the Empress, her ladies-in-waiting, and select noblewomen are welcomed to the palace to plan events, discuss potential weddings, and occasionally play games. To be invited, if you aren’t already a lady-in-waiting, is a great honor,” she starts nervously. The scroll that is summoning my presence sits on a velvety pillow, mocking me where it sits on a side table.

So basically an exclusive hangout session with the mother of the empire, I clarify in my mind. But I’m certain this event isn’t that simple.

Previously, I was riding on a high. I’d landed a shallow, but nonetheless sweet blow on Princess Julia at the Spring Ball after she got me dragged to the dungeon. I discovered Lady Arabella before she had created her massively successful dress brand and made a good first impression with the knights of the royal guard. How could I have known that it would the equivalent of reaching the peak on an amusement ride, before tumbling down the inevitable drop?

To this day, I own no jewelry, so my court dress looks quite bland when the maids who dressed me step back and allow me to admire myself. Court dresses differ from the usual dresses I wear every day because there is a certain uniform that must be followed for a formal event at the palace. There is a definite way the sleeves must be cut and a select few colors are available depending on your husband or father’s rank in court. A matching crown of fabric that resembles a thick headband must similarly be worn along with any special medallions gifted to you by the Empress.

The lackluster green shade of the dress provided to me oddly resembles barf and it’s entirely devoid of any design save for a modest silver embroidery around the edges. I haven’t even seen what the other ladies will wear, but I know it will be leagues better than mine.

I roll my eyes at my appearance before strolling out of my room. Even though she is my playmate and has been relieved of most of her work, Emma still has a few duties to attend to and disappeared shortly after we returned from our visit to the royal guard. Stars were dancing in her eyes from watching the men fight and I’m worried she’ll forget the task I designated to her.

“Marie,” I say with a calmness that doesn’t match my internal anxiety, “Please inform Emma to carry out the task I asked of her as soon as possible. Oh and, in an hour, come to the front of Sunset Palace and insist that I must go to my lessons.”

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My nursemaid seems confused by the first request but promises to return in an hour and separates from my small entourage to return to Rose Palace. The matter Emma must do is not related to the letter I wrote for Lady Arabella under last night’s weak candlelight. It’s for another transaction that will pay dividends towards keeping my head on my shoulders in the future.

It is around 9 am when we arrive in front of Sunrise Palace, the luxurious palace standing imposingly in front of me. Imported flowering trees from the South create a colorful image in front along with the two stone-faced guards stationed in front. A beaming empress stands between both, her expression juxtaposing theirs. Her resplendent court dress is a glimmering off-white shade made of white diamonds. Rather than the formal headband, she is wearing a crown embellished with rare yellow diamonds that stand out even more with her blonde updo.

“Winter!” Empress Katya says in an excited tone as if she’s that one aunt everyone has who always sneaks some money into your pocket during Christmas.

It makes for a terrifying sight since I know for a fact that in her eyes, I am worth less than a dog. After all, Julia wouldn’t have taken to addressing me as a slave without any provocation from someone behind the scenes.

“Mother!” I squeal, ditching my orderly procession to run towards the empress. My enthusiasm surprises her and I can feel her stiffen as I get my arms around her full skirt halfway for a hug. But someone who wasn’t adept at adapting to new situations wouldn’t have been able to become empress and she quickly pats me on the back as a semblance of affection.

Katya takes my hand into her surprisingly chilling one, her false cheer suffocating as she leads my tiny self in the belly of the beast.

“Little Winter, did you enjoy the Spring Ball last night?” she starts gently as we enter the indoors.

I swallow nervously and eye the paintings on the wall suspiciously.

“Yes, it was fun! So many pretty dresses and lots of yummy food!” in a slightly less cheerful voice.

“Indeed!” she looks down at me, her amber eyes flashing with a hidden emotion while she flashes a concerned frown. “I saw you wore the dress I gave you. But it looked a little different from how I remember it was custom made. Did you not like it?”

“It was very pretty! But the sleeves were dragging on the floor, it was so hard to walk! And then for the green bit, I was eating a snack and I accidentally spilled food on it. Nursey said that the stain was too hard to clean so I told her to cut it. Isn’t that smart?” I finish with a shit-eating grin.

Katya looks like she swallowed something unpleasant and my previous hypothesis that she wanted me to play the role of an uncultured buffoon at my first public appearance is confirmed.

“Yes, very clever,” she says halfheartedly. There is nothing more either of us can add to the conversation for we have arrived at the empress’ boudoir where some of the most important women in the Empire are gathered.

I spy a few familiar faces, but none I can name since only low ranking nobles who wanted to curry favor attempted to speak with me last night. The noblewomen and Katya’s ladies-in-waiting are all wearing court dresses, none as glorious as the empress’ but still quite respectable in their display of wealth and rank. The chatter that had been merrily filling the room ceases, as if someone turned off the sound, and every eye turns to me.

Most are cold, as expected.

In the discerning gazes of those who have been clothed in silk and been fed with silver spoons since they were born, I’m an interloper within their exclusive, overly privileged lives.

The mouthy mother of the mother and daughter pair who were liberally speaking ill of me in my face at the ball sniffs disdainfully.

“Half-breed,” she mutters loud enough for me to clearly hear.

Seriously? It takes all my strength to just stand there like a piece of wood and not react to the degrading term, my nails painfully digging into my palm as I struggle to maintain a clueless expression. I know I have to rise above the insults, but my blood is already boiling. This world makes me miss the modern sentiment that all men and women are born equal.

A few ladies titter at her comment and Empress Katya lets the insult simmer before she chides the woman.

“Now, now Lady Mullgard. This isn’t the time or place for that kind of language.” Katya plays the role of the mediator perfectly on the outside. Lady Mullgard turns red and upset from the empress’ short statement, unable to read the double meaning in her words. But I can.

I feel disgusted and want to yank my hand out of hers. On the surface, Katya’s statement rebukes the Southern noblewoman, but in actuality, she is just advising the noble lady to insult me as much as she wants as long as it isn’t to my face. An arrow from the shadows hurts far more than the one you can see coming.

I don’t have limitless patience and I’m thoroughly incensed within my first minute of arriving at this so-called Ladies’ Court. It would be more apt to call it the court of snakes. In the midst of my fuming, Katya releases my hand, and I remember one of the first basics I covered in my etiquette class.

My knees fold into a deep curtsey as I say, “Greetings your majesty, your ladyships.”

When I stand back up, no one is smiling. I sigh inwardly. This is going to be a long hour.