The gate shuts behind us, marking the prologue of a new chapter in my life. As the guards lead the horses away, I gaze upon my enchanting new abode. Home? Yet another place where I might find myself confined, forsaken, adrift, ignored, harmed, or something even graver.
"My queen?" Bluebell calls, snapping me out of my torturous thoughts. She steps in front of me and gently pats my hair. At times, she seems to take on the role of a stern mother, despite being only a few years my senior. "You needn't carry this burden alone. Last time, I was too slow to see the ordeal that fool put you through, but I assure you, it will not happen again. I would give my life to prevent it," she vows, and I can't help but feel a warmth spreading in my heart. This, I believe, is what a mother should be to her children—a haven.
"Do you have a child or children?" Bluebell always protected me since I arrived at the mansion. She was the second maid, after my childhood caretaker, who volunteered not only to serve but also to be a friend and family to me. The others refused to speak a single word to me; even greetings were unattainable because my mother wished to keep me isolated. However, Bluebell and Bisma defied every rule to ensure I felt something beyond loneliness.
"I might want some in the future, but for now, I don't," she replies, amused by my abrupt question. "What should we do? Enter the palace or wait for your supposed husband?" she asks, her voice tinged with irritation. We scan the palace grounds for my elusive spouse. The place is enchanting, with fountains from left to right and lush green grass encircling them. As I walk, Bluebell trails close behind. For some reason, I'm drawn to the grass blanketing the palace walls; it's as if they're beckoning me. I yearn to run my hands through it just once, to feel its softness. Drawing nearer, I reach out to touch it.
"Wife," a deep voice halts my hand just as it's about to brush against the grass. The term he uses to address me is what startles me most—did he really just call me 'wife'? I fight back the impulse to turn around, feeling my cheeks flush with a deep red. "You can't do that."
"Why?" I whisper, striving for a natural tone.
"Because these are not ordinary grasses; they are meant to cause harm, and your touch would only rouse them from their slumber," he explains calmly. Yet, I fear his words elude me, as his voice stirs something within my consciousness.
"I apologize," was all I could muster, acknowledging my fault in the matter.
"You need not apologize, my lady; it was beyond your control," Bluebell explained. She understands my tendency to take things to heart. "These are Oxo Rhum plants, not mere grasses. They're known as 'manipulators' for their luring nature. However, once they acclimate to your scent, they will recognize you as family," she clarified.
"You know quite a bit for a maiden; why is that?" inquired the guard who consistently accompanies the king. I suddenly recognized it was the same voice that had been arguing with Bluebell before I lost consciousness.
"Is the lady meant to remain here, or do you intend to confine her elsewhere?" Bluebell, choosing not to respond to him, posed another bold and disrespectful question. I lifted my head in shock, astonished that she would dare to speak in such a manner before his highness, especially with a guard at his side.
"For a maid, you clearly do not understand your place," the guard said through gritted teeth, visibly angry. I realize he's merely trying to uphold the king's image, as is Bluebell.
"There's no issue; if you're busy, I can wait," I offer, prompting not just Bluebell but also the king and his personal knight to look at me in astonishment.
"You needn't wait; we were anticipating the end of your tour," the king replies, regaining his poise. How could I have known they were waiting for me when no one had informed me beforehand?
"Oh, could we please go inside? I'm a bit tired," I say, turning to Bluebell.
"You don't need to ask; this is your home now. I'm sure your maid will assist you in finding your quarters. I must excuse myself; I need to attend to my guards," he says and departs, clearly more concerned about his guards than his weary wife. I turn back to Bluebell, who is still gazing after the king.
"Shall we depart now, my lady, or do you wish to linger?" she inquires once the king is out of sight, her displeasure with the situation evident.
"I wish to leave. And how might you locate my quarters in this vast place?"
"I will ask the other maid; they obviously knew of your arrival and are responsible for cleaning and arranging your quarters," she declares as we walk through the palace. The two guards standing before the door bow in greeting and open it for us. We step inside, moving through a display of luxurious yet somber ostentation, as if to mirror the power and melancholy of noble lineages. As we proceed, I can't help but notice the starkness of this place. Despite its air of heroic feats, it seems to stifle an unusual sorrow. Why are there no portraits of previous rulers adorning the hallways, as every book describes? Why does it feel so devoid of life? For some inexplicable reason, I feel an overwhelming urge to weep.
"This place appears unbearably forlorn and disappointing," remarked Bluebell, and I am relieved it's not only my impression this time. There was nothing to smile about; the walls were so laden with sadness, as if unable to shed the burdens they bore, and the windows were all sealed, their curtains obstructing any light. As we walked, we noticed a maid awaiting us at the end of the hallway.
"Your Highness," she greets as we approach. "Your quarters are this way," she says, leading us down another hall. To my surprise, this part of the palace is enchanting, adorned with blossoms placed in every window—a stark contrast to the previous corridor. The walls are painted in red and blue, complemented by a long purple carpet. I turn left and right, admiring the efforts made to welcome me. "I apologize to Her Highness in advance if this is not to her liking; we had no information about your preferences, so we prepared this based on various judgments." What is she talking about? This place looks majestic.
"No, it's quite lovely and very much my style, thank you so much," I say, she pauses and turns to me with a nervous expression.
"There is no need to thank us, Your Highness; this is our duty," she says with a smile. As we walk, we pass other maids who all greet us. Then she turns and stops. "These are your quarters, Your Highness," she announces, opening the door to a vast chamber. Stepping inside, I'm struck by the opulence—did they fear I would be choleric if it were less lavish? A king-sized bed dominates the room, with a table by the window. How did they know I cherish a window view? She leads us to another room. "This is your dressing room," she declares. Now I understand why Mother insisted I needn't bring anything; everything I require is here, the shoes and dresses tailored to my taste and size. Beside a large mirror, another door opens to reveal a grand wooden bathtub, complete with all one needs for bathing, in a room warmed to comfort.
"If her highness is tired, she may rest, and we can continue the tour tomorrow," she suggested after showing me my room. A tour? Were there other places I needed to know about? I simply nodded, and she departed. Turning, I noticed Bluebell scrutinizing the room as if frightened by something.
"What's wrong?" I inquired, capturing her attention. She lifted her head, smiled at me, then walked over and guided me to sit on the bed.
"It's nothing, I was merely attending to my duties as a maid; you should take a shower, my lady, and rest. You ought to be in top form for tomorrow when the maid returns to guide you once more. You wouldn't want them to perceive you as a lazy queen, would you?" She speaks, and I immediately stand on my feet, and she helps me undress myself and goes in the bathroom to prepare the water. What happened now? would he come here at night?... blushing? Why was I blushing? This isn't my first time being intimate with someone. I pace back and forth, wondering if he will show up, or if I'll have to sleep in what everyone calls my "quarters."
"My lady?" I halted my meandering and spun around to face Bluebell. "You may come in," she offered, setting aside her initial query. I followed her inside and submerged myself into the inviting warmth of the rosy water. It was precisely what I needed—a soothing bath enhanced by the fragrance of rose petals. "I noticed they use flowers for baths, so I added them," she remarked, observing as I savored the floral aroma in my hands. She then assisted me with brushing my hair and back for some time.
"My lady?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you worried about the wedding night?" she finally unburdens herself with the pressing question. Truth be told, I am indeed worried because I am uncertain if he will visit my quarters tonight, and I do not know how he conducts himself in bed. I have never heard tales of him being cruel, nor have I heard that he is a gentleman. Regardless, I would prefer the latter.
"Yes," I reply, turning to gauge her reaction. As expected, she offers her comforting smile that seems to say everything will be alright, even when I'm aware of my own fragility at times.
"There's no need for concern," she observes, "glancing at the king with all due respect, I doubt he will make an appearance tonight." Her words mirror my thoughts; he was coerced into this marriage following his late queen's disgrace. Perhaps he still harbors feelings for her, or maybe he's developed a disdain for women because of her actions. "My lady don't trouble yourself with such thoughts. I promise you, if it doesn't work out this time, I will not hesitate to convince you to leave this place." Her words bring a smile to my face, but the last thing I want is for her to lose her head over me. I turn away, allowing her to wash the parts of my body that are out of my sight or reach, while I distract myself with other thoughts.
"Do you know why the queen was evicted?" I pondered what she could have done for the high house to banish her, a queen. Was she disloyal to the king? I've heard that kings are often preoccupied with politics, which might have driven her into the arms of another man, a deed still considered a grave sin.
"I do not know, my lady. People say that what transpired that day in the courtroom involved only the king, the late queen, and the high house," she replied, lost in thought for a moment.
"And did the king love the queen?" This question was pressing for me, as I had married a king not just on paper but possibly one who was still in love with his former consort.
"For this, my lady must discover on her own, yet I shall provide a brief outline: their union, somewhat akin to yours, was prearranged. The departed queen hailed from the weaver's lineage in the realm of Gartrish. It was foretold that the king would wed her, securing the aid of the Gatrish kingdom with their wizards," she elucidated.
"How long had they been wed?" piqued my curiosity.
"Three years, my lady," she replies, walking past the towel bars to reach for one. She assists me in drying off as I sit in silence, contemplating. Three years is enough time to grow fond of someone, or even to fall in love. Was she beautiful and intelligent? As a princess, she must have been educated in politics and the art of strategic planning for war.
"How old is the king?"
"He is thirty and two, my lady. is curious about the king's life?" She laughs while helping me dry my hair.
"No, I just wanted to know," I insist, not out of curiosity.
"That's the same thing, my lady," she chuckles, clearly enjoying this. "Is he still attending to his guard at this late hour?" The bed seems too large for someone as small as me. After she finishes with my hair, I don my nightgown and slide into bed. Bluebell wishes me a good night, and, fortunately, sleep comes effortlessly.
...
As expected, I awoke to find the place beside me empty; he hadn't slept here, perhaps due to a chaotic or exhausting day. Rising from my bed, Bluebell soon entered the room.
"Good morning, my lady," she greeted, approaching to make the bed. I returned her greeting and proceeded to my dressing table, where my hair appeared as though it had endured a significant battle the night before. Attempting to tame it while waiting for Bluebell, she approached and relieved me of the hairbrush, skillfully arranging my hair. "How was your night, my lady?" she inquired, securing my hair into a bun with a gentle touch.
"It was fine, albeit a bit chilly," I replied. I had heard that Zahkish was the coldest of all kingdoms, and despite the fire burning through the night, the chill was palpable.
"I shall inform the head maid," she says as I remove my nightgown. she enters the bathroom to prepare the water, and I follow shortly after. "The water is not yet warm, my lady. Would you prefer to wait in bed while I heat it?" After turning away, I sit and wait while she tends to the water.
"My lady?" a voice call from outside. I place my feet on the floor and quickly open the door. It's another maid. "The King sends his deepest apologies; he will not be able to join you for breakfast today," she informs me, confirming my suspicion that he is indeed avoiding me.
"Why?" I inquire.
"The emperor has tasked him with resolving the rogue and lock issues, so he will be absent for some time but has vowed to compensate for it," she explained, awaiting a response.
"Thank you for informing me," I said, voicing the only composed thought in my mind. "Would you like to come in?" I inquired, and she looked at me with terror, as if I had pronounced a death sentence.
"My lady, a maid not in your employ is not permitted in your quarters," she said, avoiding my gaze and instead looking at her clasped hands. Was she frightened of me, or was it because I was now the queen, and she felt obliged to behave in this manner?
"Aren't all the staff my employees?" I pondered why she spoke as if this conversation would be our last. "Enter," I commanded. She hesitated but complied, glancing around nervously before stepping inside.
"Your Highness," she addressed me, and I turned to her with a quizzical lift of my brow. "I believe there's a misunderstanding."
"Then explain it to me." I don't want to come off as rude on my first official day here, but Bluebell advised me to stand my ground. Why not start with those I know will only gossip? I realize it's not ideal, but what should I do?
"Your Majesty, it is said that when a royal has a personal maid, she manages everything concerning her master." And why is that? So, Bluebell oversees all that pertains to me. I'm sure she won't mind, but won't she get tired? And what about the vacations she likes to take every seventh of the month?
"May I speak with the employees, please?" Goodness, why was I pleading? This made her look at me with concern.
"You need not implore, Your Highness; I shall attend to that promptly after your preparations," she says, frowning at me awkwardly.
"How can I call you?"
"Hyndrelle, Your Highness." Her name sounds oddly familiar, and she appears so terrified that I cease my staring and return to sit on my bed. I'm not sure if it's the effect of being a queen, but I feel changed since my time in the duchy.
"And Hyndrelle's age?"
"Three and twenty." So young? Does she not wish to marry and have a family of her own? Then again, if there were no one like her, who would serve as my staff?
"Very well, Hyndrelle, I shall endeavor to join you a quarter hour from now for our meeting. Until then, you may proceed as instructed."
"Yes, Your Majesty, and Her Highness may take her time; we are in no rush," she says with a smile before leaving. As soon as she exits, I notice Bluebell gazing at the door, puzzled yet beaming broadly.
"You did well, my lady, but you tend to be too lenient. Try to make eye contact with them. Here's a little trick: when you speak, if someone avoids your gaze, it means they fear you, and if one doesn't" she advises, then shrugs and heads into the bathroom, with me trailing behind.
"Do you think I can make them fear me?" I ponder, not that I desire their fear, but rather I aim to cultivate a varied relationship with them, contrasting with what I experienced with the mansion staff.
"My lady," she begins as she assists me into the bathtub, "you need not instill fear in them, for you do not wish that upon yourself. Instead, strive to earn their respect and trust. Remember, you are not the former queen, and we are unaware of the bond they shared with her. Endeavor to build your own rapport and gain their reliance."
"I have a meeting with them after this," I say, her hands reassuring on my shoulders. I don't wish to upend their way of life, and now that I can act on my desires, I must consider the consequences of actions that might make people despise me without just cause. What worries me most is the king's reaction—will he approve or scorn me for overruling his orders? Post-bath, Bluebell assists me into a simple blue gown adorned with flowers; I decline any lavish ornaments, as I have no need to flaunt my wealth. Navigating the desolate corridors, anxiety grips me; words escape me, and the purpose of the meeting eludes my memory. Approaching the door, I pause, fear rooting me in place. Bluebell, perceiving my hesitation, calls out to me.
"Your grace?" she calls out, resting her hand on my shoulder. "You just need to get to know each other and learn how the palace operates. Remember, building a relationship and trust takes time," she encourages me. I take several deep breaths before nodding in agreement. As she knocks on the door, it swings open from the inside, and I can hear faint whispering from the maids and others. Are they gossiping about me? Now is not the time to worry about Saltanat. I reassure myself, believing that all will be revealed in due time.