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Noon.
3rd Prince Chamber, Wyfkeep Castle.
Wyf-fellon, Wyfn-Garde.
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"What are you doing?" Lucius, the presence asked in hushed tones, invisible even to Alaric’s sharp eyes.
The voice of Alaric’s invisible presence floated in the air like a whisper, barely tangible. Alaric never fully understood what the creature was, but he didn’t need to see it to know it was there.
It’d been there since the beginning of his rebirth, the day he cried last.
Alaric didn’t bother to turn his head. "What do you an Lucius?" he asked back.
"You know what I an. That—back there," Lucius insisted, his voice carrying a weight that made Alaric clench his teeth.
"A test," Alaric replied nonchalantly, brushing off the tension.
Lucius scoffed, a sound that made Alaric’s jaw tighten. "For who?"
"Obviously, for her," Alaric retorted, irritation creeping into his voice.
The silence that followed told Alaric that Lucius wasn’t finished. "I thought the older the wiser," he jabbed, hoping to end the conversation.
"She’s picking up on your absence," Lucius whispered, as though Salviana could hear.
"I’m not absent," Alaric grumbled.
"Yet, you are," Lucius persisted.
Before Alaric could reply, Salviana’s voice broke through the telephatic conversation. "We’re here," she whispered, recognizing the familiar surroundings. The castle was a maze of identical corridors, yet there was sothing about this space she has started to know already, it was colder and considerably darker.
Lucius’s voice slithered back into Alaric’s mind. "Oh, look, here cos your very annoying but very important Richard."
Ahead, Richard ca into view—a tall, muscular man with a bald head that glead in the dim light. His posture was impeccable, and Salviana couldn’t help but notice how smooth and polished he appeared.
He bowed deeply to Alaric. "Your grace." without glancing at Salviana.
Salviana’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of Richard’s voice, sothing that didn’t go unnoticed by Alaric. With a subtle press on her lower back, Alaric’s voice was calm yet firm, "Go on, I’ll be back later today."
He could stay for months if he wanted, she thought to say yet her mind swirled with these questions. ’Where was he going?’ ’What did he an, ’be back later today’?’ But the unspoken questions hung in the air as Alaric gave her a look that quieted her curiosity, if only for now.
Then he turned and walked away, leaving her alone with the maids he followed Richard knowing it had to be urgent.
"Princess Salviana, inside please," ca the sharp voice of the head maid from earlier. She stood beside Priscilla and Emma, her expression stern and unyielding as usual.
Salviana stepped inside the chamber parlour and noticed Sarah inside already cleaning, Emma quickly joined.
"I was called again because apparently, you weren’t in your chambers after breakfast," the woman grumbled. Her irritation was palpable, making it clear that Salviana’s wandering had caused her trouble.
"Yes, I had to follow my husband sowhere," Salviana replied, trying to keep her tone neutral.
The head maid’s face tightened, but she waved it off. "The girls will show you around the places you need to know. Good afternoon." Without waiting for a reply, the head maid spun on her heel and left.
As Salviana processed the sudden departure, a new figure stepped forward. She was thin, almost skeletal, and her appearance was ticulously put together, though sothing about it felt off. She dressed as if trying to blend high fashion with strict professionalism, but the result was peculiar, even gaudy.
"Tailing ’your husband’ like a lost pet won’t get you anywhere," the woman said sharply, her tone biting. She emphasized the words ’your husband’ like it was a dirty secret.
Salviana bristled at the remark. ’Now who is this gaunt-gaudy-woman?’ she thought bitterly.
"He invited ," Salviana replied, defensive now, feeling hurt at the maid’s reaction, going to tell the head maiden about her absence. Clearly, they had seen how Alaric reacted when they ca to get after breakfast and that was why she didn’t imdiately return to her chambers.
Why were they already treating her like this?
The woman—who hadn’t yet introduced herself—scoffed. "And you simply say yes to everything he asks of you?"
Salviana was at a loss for words.
What did this woman expect her to do? She stared at the woman, unsure whether to reply or simply walk away.
The gaunt-gaudy-lady seed to take the silence as an insult, puffing out her bony chest. "I am your educator," she said, as if it was a title of utmost importance.
"Educator?" Salviana repeated, her brows knitting together.
She didn’t understand why she needed one. After all, she’d been raised with all the necessary lessons to be a princess—unless, of course, cruelty and disdain were what they wanted her to learn here.
"Yes, your royal tutor," the woman said, her prideful tone clashing with her skeletal appearance.
Before Salviana could respond, Sarah, the bright and kind maid who had been standing by, offered an explanation with a small smile. "She ans lady-in-waiting, Princess Salviana. Your lady-in-waiting."
Salviana’s gaze returned to the gaunt-gaudy-woman, her expression softening only slightly. "Ah, I see," she said, though she was still unsure what to make of the woman standing before her.
There was sothing almost comical about how seriously she took herself, especially with her poorly matched outfit and sandals that didn’t seem fit for royalty. They were heels but they also weren’t because they were sandals. Salviana’s upper lip tipped to one side as she pressed the lady’s feet with her gaze.
The woman, sensing Salviana’s judgnt, pressed her lips together and lifted her hand, her bony fingers gathered. She gestured toward Salviana’s face. "And we have to work on your... your features—your eyebrows, lips, cheeks, and those eyes, my word."
The woman’s stutter only heightened the tension in the room. Sarah, quick to save Salviana from further discomfort, stepped in again. "She ans your facial expressions, Princess Salviana, your reactions." but the lady-in-waiting needed saving more than the new princess did.
Salviana’s patience was wearing thin. "What is your na?" she asked, her voice polite but with an edge.
The lady-in-waiting squared her shoulders as if preparing for battle. "My na is Lady Margaretha," she announced, lifting her chin proudly.
Salviana took her in, noting the gauntness of her fra, her sharp features, and the almost theatrical way she carried herself. ’Lady Margaretha,’ she mused inwardly, committing the na to mory. Despite her judgnt, there was no doubt this woman would be a thorn in her side.
"Well, Lady Margaretha," Salviana replied, her voice cool but controlled, "I look forward to seeing how you plan to... educate ." she didn’t, in fact she’d much prefer the royals just let her swing it in the castle.
Gaunt-gaudy-lady sounded far better.
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