The first time I entered the palace, I was five years old. I was invited to meet my future master, the newborn prince, Hayden Venvaris. There was an official ceremony to introduce us, during which I held the baby prince and swore to protect him, his sons, his interests, and his people.
My father served as the King's personal attendant and steward, as did his father, and his father’s father. It is unusual for a viscount family to serve in such a position, but the Venvaris family and the Forbes family have a long history, dating back to the founding of the kingdom. For a long time, our family was rich in honor and poor in assets. My grandfather taught me that to serve and aid a king was a great honour. But my father was greedy. He thought our purse strings should reflect our position in court, and he coveted a chance to fatten our coffers.
When consort Florence Whyntour fell pregnant, my father saw his chance. Allegiances shifted, money changed hands and the position of Hayden Venvaris’ attendant was given to the Jones earldom. A year later I visited the palace again, this time with no official ceremony, and I held the baby princess Lyra Venvaris. The Forbes family coffers were fatter than ever, but the viscount’s only son was now associated with the king’s greatest shame, an illegitimate daughter. Had she been born a boy, the fate of the Forbes family may have been different. However, they were excluded from the royal court, and my father quickly drained the newly filled coffers, trying to grease enough palms to regain his previous position. But not only was the princess illegitimate, she was also a spoiled, violent brat with no discernable talent. The family was not to be saved. My father died in drunken solitude.
I feel no ill will towards my father. I do not blame him for Lyra Venvaris’ harassment or violence, for that would not be fair. There have been times in the past when I have contemplated how different my life would be had I served Prince Hayden as opposed to the princess. But I have always assumed that no matter who I served, I would treat them with the same indifferent deference. A master is simply a master.
It has been three hours since Princess Lyra returned from meeting her brother. She has been sitting in the window nook of her bedroom, staring out the window and drinking tea for the majority of that time. Although she is still and hasn’t moved in a while, I know she is restless. What I don’t understand is why her being restless has made me restless also.
‘Forbes.’ I stop cleaning the books and notes spread across her vanity to cross the room and bow.
‘Yes, your highness?’
‘I would like to write a letter; would you fetch the materials please?’ I pause for a moment. I don’t know why, and I know it is not my place, but I do not want to fetch the materials for her.
‘I apologise if this is bold of me, your highness, but if you are asking so you may write a letter of apology to Sir Winters, you must not trouble yourself.’ She puts her teacup down and reaches out to open the window. ‘Your highness, it’s raining, you’ll catch a cold.’ I try to stop her, but she holds up her hand.
‘It’s only rain, Forbes. I need the fresh air.’ She is quiet for a few moments, and I don’t know whether to return to tidying or to wait. Eventually, she turns round to face me.
‘I finally remembered the bruised handmaiden I sent to the crown prince.’ This is not what I was expecting, and I am a little taken aback so I remain silent. ‘It’s a mess in here,’ she makes a vague gesture towards her head, ‘but I remember her. She was dismissed without a recommendation letter. How..?’ I continue to remain silent.
‘I daren’t write her an apology. Coming from me, it would be a veiled order demanding that she forgive me. But I thought, if someone knows what became of her, I might at least be able to rectify a previous mistake.’
The handmaiden Princess Lyra is talking about is a young girl called Annie. It happened a little over five weeks ago. The princess was having a particularly violent episode. A dress had not been cleaned properly, a favoured teacup had gone missing and her highness’ request to attend a local dressage competition had been rejected by the crown prince. There was nothing personal about the attack. When Princess Lyra lashed out, it was normally aimed at the person closest to her, at the one delivering the message. That day, it happened to be Annie. She was only fifteen.
‘Do you know what’s become of the girl, Forbes?’ I do not want to answer her. I don’t know what stops me.
‘Forgive me again, however, it is unnecessary for you to write such a letter, your highness.’ The look she gives me is one I have never seen on the princess’ face before.
‘I suppose a princess never has to do anything, but as one human being to another,’ her voice becomes quiet, ‘as a human being who has ruined another, I should make it right.’
As I watch her now, I think back to the moment nineteen years ago when, as a nine-year-old child, I held the baby princess in my arms. I think about how her life would have been easier if she had been a boy. If her attendant had come from the Jones earldom. If so many people had not staked their reputations and their coffers on her birth. I always assumed that I approached her with indifference. But I have never scolded her. Never turned my nose up at her, hated her, disliked her. Every time she screamed, I was reminded of the six-year-old child who woke up to a dead mother, who spent every birthday until the age of sixteen alone, and whose father never spoke to her.
The day Princess Lyra threw a book at young Annie’s face, she didn’t stop crying for even a second to see if the girl was okay. The princess was someone who lacked empathy because no one had ever modeled it for her. This left her selfish and immature. That day, she screamed herself hoarse and fell into a deep sleep, exhausted. I have not heard the princess scream since. The morning after, she woke up changed.
This new person is reserved and taciturn. She is a quick reader and a quick study. She hates Lord Juke Aster, cannot stand being complimented, and is fond of her brother. She struggles to wake up in the morning, often uses sarcasm, and is sometimes even witty. In this way, she reminds me of my sister. And she is afflicted with a stubborn melancholy that sometimes makes it difficult for her to breathe. Over the past five weeks, I have confirmed my hypothesis; the Lyra Venvaris I have served for nineteen years is not here anymore.
I don’t know how I could possibly try and explain these thoughts to anyone. I also cannot comprehend my own feelings. It was impossible for me to hold Princess Lyra responsible for her actions, but I was never able to respect or support her. Never in nineteen years of serving her did I come to her aid the way I did today. I have never felt this kind of brotherly love or pride for anyone except my own sister. I didn’t realise it was possible to feel dignity in someone else’s actions.
‘The handmaiden’s name was Annie, your highness. She left the royal capital some weeks ago, but I believe it will be easy enough to track her down.’ Princess Lyra smiles at me.
‘Thank you, Forbes.’ I bow before turning to leave the room and fetch her writing materials. When I am at the door, she calls my name again.
‘Yes, your highness?’
‘Was she the only one?’ I take a moment before I respond. In terms of physical violence, Princess Lyra does not have a great deal of victims, but Annie is certainly not the only one. She was the youngest, and her injury was the most difficult to hide, but even I have received a bruise from the princess. But this woman is not Princess Lyra. I will not force her to stare down every crime committed and feel it in a way the princess never could.
‘She was the only victim, your highness.’ She sighs in relief, and I feel as if I have done a good thing.
‘One more thing, Forbes.’ She looks down at her hands for a few moments, as if contemplating something, before looking at me again. ‘Am I correct in saying your given name is Sebastian?’
‘Yes, your highness.’
‘Would it be terribly improper for me to refer to you using your given name?’ The request surprises me. Normally, I would reply to such a request by pointing out that her highness is a princess and therefore can refer to me however she pleases. But I sense that is not what she is asking.
‘It would not be improper at all, your highness.’ She smiles again, a full smile.
‘Thank you, Sebastian.’ I bow one final time before leaving the room.
