2/4.

******

 

Renise thought about the 3rd Princess often. 

It was hard not to. She was officially her saviour. 

When Renise closed her eyes, it was all too easy to see the princess amidst the darkness, her sword shining brighter than the moonlight streaming past her as she stood surrounded by the ruin of a dryad’s nest in Reitzlake. She saw her proud figure as she strode forwards to meet the poisoned words of Lucina Tolent. She saw her dazzling sword technique to upend all the dust beneath her carpets. 

And she saw the vomit. Especially when she tried not to.

Yes … she owed much to the princess, not least her life. 

She also owed the lives of her parents. 

Though they slept as prisoners within an unwaking dream, it was a soft sentence compared to the cold justice which would meet them should they finally awake. 

But it was not only due to gratitude that she thought about Princess Juliette Contzen often.

It was due to the frequent news she received.

Delivered by her contacts around the kingdom, she was painted a haphazard picture of an unknown adventurer and her exploits, traversing the kingdom with a clockwork doll by her side. 

Such was the speed of her coming and going, that little but her footprints remained to be marvelled at. Each titbit of news was a wall of haze even more indecipherable than the last. But it wasn’t the strange tales which followed her steps which made Renise think of Juliette at this precise moment of time. 

No … it was the fact that she was staring at her. 

A portrait of her, to be exact.

Sitting upon an easel in a state worthy of being auctioned or placed upon a wall, it made up the centrepiece of a tiny room littered with paintbrushes, blank canvases and reference books on perspective drawing. 

Within a room which was barely more than a cupboard in size, Renise looked upon a makeshift studio brimming with the trials and tribulations of a master painter in the making. Which was strange, since it clearly wasn’t designed as such. Not unless the wooden hatch on the floor led to an art closet.

This was clearly no hidden vault of stashed heirlooms. There were no jewels here. No sums of gold and no scrolls of parchment detailing illicit trade. But that didn’t mean it was without treasures. 

After all, Renise was fairly certain somebody was willing to buy the princess’s portrait.

Like herself.

Even if it was somewhat embellished. 

In her short time knowing her, she’d never seen the princess doing a smile quite so devoid of … ominousness as these.

Sitting in a relaxed posture while wearing a dress of yellow lilies, this version of the princess featured a kind smile far more innocent than the one she’d witnessed as the girl cackled within her father’s hall to the screaming of Lucina Tolent’s tearful chorus.

Within this portrait, she witnessed a different side of her saviour.

And though Renise did not think of the princess as anything other than her heroine, she wasn’t certain if that necessitated thinking of her as entirely gentle as well.

Renise was deeply confused. And also slightly worried.

For royalty to have their paintings drawn was no uncommon thing. But as the 5th in line to the throne, Juliette was known more for the fact that she wasn’t known at all. Even Renise, the daughter of one of Reitzlake’s great families, had needed the sight of the Crown Prince standing where his sister had been vomiting in order for their features to be matched. 

But that wasn’t what disquieted her the most.

There was something almost … overbearing about this portrait.

Insidious, almost. 

Enough to make her spine tingle almost as much as the shadow which crept over her, colder than the words she was shortly about to hear.

“What do you think?” said the casual voice behind her. “An unfinished work. And though I remain bitterly unhappy about all my work, this one may very well be the most unfulfilling.”

Renise turned.

She wasn’t certain whether it was her shock at seeing the princess’s portrait which allowed the baroness to sneak up on her, or simply the slyness she exuded beneath the warm smile and large eyes. 

“A disservice to your skills,” she replied at once. “Though many hope to catch the eye of royalty by painting their likeness, I believe few in the kingdom possess the talent you have in capturing the image of the 3rd Princess’s natural delicateness.”

Baroness Arisa Sandholt clapped her hands together.

Unbridled joy lit up upon her pretty face. One which Renise knew to be genuine. 

After all, it was a smile she hadn’t seen once since her arrival as a maid in her tavern.

“Oh? You could tell this is the 3rd Princess? … My, what a wonderful joy.”

“As I say, you view yourself too lowly. You’ve drawn her image splendidly.”

“Even were that so, it would not often result in the recognition of the 3rd Princess. Princess Juliette is remarkably private, keeping to her own thoughts and activities. She is famously reclusive, with few achievements under her name. Only those who have sat at her tea table know of her appearance.”

Baroness Arisa gave a small tilt of her head.

“How, should I ask, would a … common maid come to know of her, Lady Renise?”

Renise smiled politely in response.

Partly because that was what was expected of her, whether as a former member of nobility or as a maid caught pretending to be in her employ.

In truth, she smiled to stop her lips from quivering with the knowledge that she knew the princess from directly seeing her efficiency at work–and that at this moment of time, the 3rd Princess was likely studiously assessing the quality standards of a wall somewhere and finding it lacking.

“I regret I’ve never sat down with the 3rd Princess for tea. Though I dare say that even as a recluse, those who show academic interest with the royal family should be able to recognise one who exudes such an air of royalty. One you have captured with exhaustive detail.”

“A needless compliment. What you see is destined to be used as kindling for the hearths.”

“That would be a monumental waste.”

“Should the hearth choke and forever die, yes. But the painting is already unsalvageable. You may think this detailed, but I find it lacking. The princess’s soft features and regal eyes are not so easily captured by a brush, nor easily conveyed upon a canvas. I regret that my skills do not do her justice.”

Once again, Renise felt the pinprick of discomfort.

Once again, she ignored it to instead examine the measure of the one before her. 

Still in her white dress, this maiden with golden curls and grey eyes seemed as harmless as a possum. And yet the smile she wore was no different to those who held out their hand while holding a serrated blade in the other. 

This was a smile she knew well. 

Baroness Arisa’s talents were wasted here. She would do well amidst the nobility of Reitzlake.

“I see. How marvellous that the 3rd Princess should have such an ardent admirer so far from the Royal Villa.” 

The baroness raised a hand to her lips, offering a gentle laugh.

And with her other–

Swish.

The fruit knife flew past Renise’s cheeks, swiping a flicker of her dark hair behind her.

As she slowly turned, she spied the sight of a knife now embedding itself into Juliette’s face, replacing where a well painted nose previously was. 

Though no expert in art, Renise felt the change unnecessary.

She also had a feeling it wasn’t for sale.

“Admire … ?” Baroness Arisa smiled sweetly as Renise returned to her, her grey eyes narrowing. “On the contrary, I happen to despise her with every facet of my soul. Allow me to assure you that of all those she has wronged while idling upon her bed of wealth and privilege, none feel the wish to see her make amends as I do.”

Renise maintained her calm smile.

Even so, she was stunned by the speed of hand possessed by this young girl. 

Almost as much as she was by the strength of loathing.

Professional dislike for the royal family was no strange occurrence. It was practically idle gossip so far as the world of nobility was concerned. But this was venom beyond the ire of tax rises and their carriages bankrupting nobility wherever they were hosted.

“I see. I believe whatever ill she has wrought upon you is a matter of misjudgement. As far as I’m aware, the 3rd Princess is as removed from politics as a baroness from the north is. There are few reasons to even have the chance to form any bond of dislike.”

“True. Unlike House Rimeaux, my family was never held in anyone’s regard. Yet although you think of us as cave hermits, it is amusing that you believed a maid disguise would work here.”

“My error of judgement. As we’d not met–”

“You thought me a countryside bumpkin. A common slight. But one which you at least acknowledge.”

“As a common maid of neither status nor wealth, I hold all nobility in only the highest regard.”

“And clearly I’ve risen in the world, since I warrant the attention of the Crown Prince’s favoured maid. To what do I owe the pleasure of this unannounced meeting?”

“Nothing but my salary. I’ve tidied the main hall and the first floor guest rooms, and ensured the wine was prepared and inspected for today’s function.”

“I noticed. The lack of grime even behind the paintings in my halls spoke of exceptional care to detail.”

“Thank you.”

“And is all your cleaning tasks at the Rosehearth Tavern complete?”

“Quite so. I actually finished with this room. And so I shall offer my resignation and my departure. I hope my absence will not deter you from enjoying the rest of your evening in a dust-free environment.”

Baroness Arisa laughed, the picture so pretty and the sound so much like a song that squires would forget their bows on the spot.

“Your resignation is duly accepted. Should you wish to be hired again, please contact my head maid at the earliest opportunity.”

“I shall do that. Thank you.”

“However, it’d be remiss of me not to ask you to stay. Not as a maid, but as a guest.”

“I’m afraid I have nothing to offer for such courtesy. I have no title and no wealth.”

“No, but you have gall and a trained ability to lie.”

“It is the company I keep. One I perpetually fail to exit from.”

The baroness had the good graces to pretend to look amused.

“Then let us discuss plainly and honestly. Perhaps over a cup of tea. Should you or the Crown Prince have any concerns about the competence of his loyal subjects, I will endeavour to answer them.”

“I’m afraid I cannot speak on behalf of the Crown Prince. I’m here in a private capacity.”

“In my bedroom?”

“As a talented maid, I seek only the finest rooms to clean. And so I must thank you for indulging in my curiosity. I believe I have all the information I need.”

“But I do not. And so I shall insist on tea.”

Renise permitted her nose to wrinkle. In the royal capital, this would be tantamount to a splash of wine across the face. Followed by a sneeze.

She was being serious.

“If you hope to keep me here, then know that it is of little use. My presence here is known, and my absence will not see any excuse from you entertained. It would be wise if I were allowed to enjoy tea of my own making upon my safe return to Reitzlake.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re correct. My hands truly are tied. As a scheming baroness of no consequence, the very fact that I’ve drawn you here means my fate is already sealed.”

Renise waited.

This was usually where they paled, knowing all routes led to doom.

It didn’t happen.

“You’re not going to allow me to leave, are you?”

“No.”

“As I said, it would be folly. And so I shall make it clear for one whose youth has clearly gotten the better of her. If I do not return, the royal guard will ensure I am.”

In response, Baroness Arisa rolled her eyes.

Then, she clicked her fingers. 

The door to the bedroom opened up. An entire group of guards made themselves known. Those who wore the colours of knightly livery, and yet their faces gave them away as who they truly were. Rogues in ill-fitting armour. Those whose loyalty did not extend towards the Crown.

But also those who valued the appropriateness of refreshments.

They carried with them a circular table fit for two, as well as matching chairs. A final one came in with a tray laden with tea, biscuits and a fruit bowl. Renise watched that one closely, impressed with the steadiness of his hands. 

Frankly, she felt upstaged.

“Then I shall make this just as clear,” said Baroness Arisa, turning to the table as it was being set. “Tea. As you’ve had little to eat or drink, I shall ensure your comfort during the duration of your horrible and painful questioning.”

“Must it really involve horror and pain?”

“No. But my poorly paid goons are watching. And I have an alter ego to maintain.”

With the tea table swiftly finalised, the baroness swept past Renise, before plucking the fruit knife from Juliette’s face. 

She offered a polite smile.

“Bergamot or chamomile? Both are the princess’s favourite. Which would you prefer?”