Everyone wants something. It is a lesson I have learned the hard way. To want something is not inherently a bad thing. I do not begrudge the hungry child who wants food, nor the tired mother who wants money to feed her children. But the more someone has, the more sinister the thing they most want. That is a rule I live by and is a truth that has irrecoverably changed my life.  

Ever since I was a child, people have always told me what it is they want most, and if they could not tell me, they would show me. I realised rather late that this was not normal, and if someone was not forthcoming, a mere touch would reveal their darkest desires. This allowed me to navigate the small town I was born in more deftly than other children my age. With a father who toiled in the fields, and a mother who served in the lord’s house, I was often alone, and so I learned to use this part of me to keep myself and others safe. So, I knew who those men were and what they wanted, and I warned those I knew to stay away from them and their promises of coin and a warm meal.  

On my sixteenth birthday, my mother passed away. Three months later the same sickness took my father. I fed and sheltered myself until I came of age, but when the taxes increased and the collector came, I had no way to pay. I was bought as a gift by the earl whose house my mother used to serve in. This was two months ago. Now, I sleep in the palace. I drink tea in the afternoon with the princess. I read books in the evening before bed. I eat scones and wear heeled shoes and a handmaiden brushes my hair.   

I do not understand Princess Lyra. When she first approached me at the ball, I sensed nothing from her. Usually, there is a sort of fog that follows people around, a mix of colours and images and words I can hear and see in my mind. But with the princess, I saw nothing. This is not inherently unusual. There are people who hide what they most want better than others. So, when she offered me shelter and protection, another form of the age-old promise of coin and a warm meal, I asked to hold her hand. There was only one colour, the colour grey. I have never met a person who possesses such little desire for anything.   

So, I decided to place my faith in her. The choice was made easier by the knowledge that I have no home to return to, but it was somewhat of a gamble. A gamble that seems to have paid off. My assumptions were, she would use me as a tool to manipulate the earl, or maybe even the king, to gain some political sway or power at court. But we have not spoken of the earl since that evening. She gifts me dresses, books, hair ornaments, writing materials, asks me if there is anything I need, offers to teach me something if I do not know it, to explain something if I do not understand it. In the week and a half we have spent together, the only strong desire I have sensed from her is for companionship. It seems she is happiest when she is not alone, but also when silently engaged in something. She spends most of her time with her brother, Prince Rakan, in a kind of companionable silence, or with her knight (who I think cannot be a knight, for she is a woman) watching but rarely talking. The only other addition is Sebastian Forbes, a sort of older sister rather than an attendant, motherly the way a friend would be but with few words and even fewer smiles. Despite this, they seem close, inseparably so.   

Duke Virfain has joined the princess and me for tea four times now. The two of them discuss the details of an upcoming tournament and occasionally talk about the garden, both having an appreciation for peonies (no longer in season) and roses (currently blooming). Their conversations are peaceful and full of even exchange, despite the duke’s superior knowledge and the princess’ superior status. When I occasionally chime in, they listen and take note, including me in the conversation, moving on when I begin to show my discomfort. They are both quiet yet attentive and watching them fills me with a strange feeling of contentment.   

Only once has the duke mentioned what happened at the party. It was yesterday afternoon. There were four of us sitting around a small table in the princess’ drawing room, the princess, the duke, Prince Rakan, and I, Sebastian Forbes lingering in the background as always. It was my first time meeting the prince, but I needn’t have been nervous, for he said very little and the words he did say were directly exclusively at Princess Lyra. The table was relatively quiet for an hour before the duke turned to me.  

‘I heard you are from the west, Lady Whitecrest.’ Despite having told the duke multiple times to call me Miss. Whitecrest, they refuse to address me in any other manner. I didn’t know how to answer. It was not exactly a question. But before the conversation could continue, Prince Rakan and Princess Lyra exchanged a look before swiftly changing the topic.   

I do not know what to think of the duke. They are intimidating, blunt, and they are not afraid to stare. The Princess seems unperturbed. I find their company slightly uncomfortable; they make me blush and I do not understand why. For reasons I cannot explain, the princess makes me feel safe. There is a feeling I cannot quell that she may be hiding something from me, something sinister, some manipulative plan. But as the days have passed, I have stopped questioning her actions, stopped waiting for the penny to drop. I have begun to take her actions at face value and I now find a kind of comfort in her mostly silent presence.   

I do not know how long I am to stay here, but I am beginning to hope it will be for a long time.