"Hello, ladies. I'm Celestina, the mistress of the court," said by an elegant woman probably two decades older than I am. I was thankful that she arrived. Her presence eased the tension earlier.
"I will assist the Crown Prince in molding each one of you, so that when time comes, the chosen lady has all the knowledge of what are the duties of a crown princess."
"That would not be hard, Mistress. All of us are from noble families who studied right etiquettes since childhood—oh! Pardon, Ophelia. I forgot you are not a noble lady like the rest of us," Lady Lilian, the daughter of the first minister, said softly but lethally.
I heard soft chuckles, only cut off by Mistress Celestina's voice.
"You are just a commoner. Am I right, Lady Ophelia?"
"You are." I'm not ashamed of my status. Why would I be? At least I am far from being criminal.
