Right now I'll focus on cleaning. Once the bath is here, I'll scrub off all the dust and travel exhaustion. And then I can finally relax!
Brimming with new determination, Rishe stood up and headed for the well. She was forestalled by the sound of jeering giggles.
"Aww, look at the new girl, trying so hard," said one voice.
"All the enthusiasm in the world won't make a difference," said another.
"We're going to be the crown princess's maids, not you."
The first added, "Hey, are you even listening? Stop wasting your time!"
Rishe heard a weak scream, followed by a thump, like a body hitting the ground. She broke into a run, finding a blonde girl sprawled in the dirt, surrounded by four other women.
"Are you all right?" Rishe hurried over to help the girl up. Her maid's uniform—a loose navy-blue dress with a white apron—was smeared with mud. The others were dressed identically.
"Who are you?" one of the girls snapped at Rishe. She had a mop of blazing-red hair.
"Another newbie?"
An understandable mistake. Rishe's dress was simple, free of ornamentation, and her hair was bound back in a ponytail to keep it out of the way. She was dust-streaked, sweaty, and carrying a bucket in her arms.
Telling them who I am will be more trouble than it's worth. Her silence only angered the girls more.
"Are you one of the crown princess's maids? They've been snatching up every new girl. Those pretty hands of yours don't look like they've ever held a broom," said one of them.
"Unfortunately for you, we've been working here three years, and we'll be the ones to serve Prince Arnold as the maids of his palace."
Rishe ignores the talking of red-hair maid in front of her. She looked at the maid beside her. "Can you stand? Oh, good, it looks like you're not injured." Rishe helped the girl up out of the dirt.
"Hey, don't ignore us!" the redheaded maid shouted. "You've got some nerve. If you want to make it here, you'll know your place! I doubt the two of you will last a week!"
Rishe didn't respond, her attention snagging on something else. The redhead was carrying curtains, probably to bring them to the wash. Rishe stared at them so hard the maid began to shift uncomfortably. "What's your problem?"
"You should wait to wash those," Rishe said.
The girl glared daggers at her. "Excuse me? Are you telling me it's too late in the day? You really are an amateur! The light lasts longer in the spring, you know. And it's hot today. There'll be plenty of—"
"It's going to rain, after all."
The maids exchanged glances. "How can you be so sure?"
"Look at the clouds amassing. The butterflies and the bees are flying low. The moisture in the air will make the drying take longer."
"What?"
Another maid spoke up in a soft voice. "Diana, you were the one who said we
should take the initiative to wash the bigger pieces. You said the crown prince would choose us for his household!"
"Stop putting the blame on me! This isn't my fault." An indignant flush crept over the redhead's face.
"There's no way some upstart can tell what time it's going to rain! The weather is going to be fantastic all day. Come on, we're hauling these over to the wash!"
The three girls meekly followed Diana.
Rishe sighed, turning to the blonde girl. "Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine." The girl's gaze darted around nervously.
"I'm Elsie. Thank you for helping me." Her face was studiously blank, but from the way she struggled with her words, Rishe could tell she was being genuine.
"Don't worry about it," Rishe said. "Your uniform seems to have fared less well."
"Oh no." Elsie looked down at herself. Her face remained vacant, but she seemed sad. "And I just got it."
"You can get the dirt out if you wash it straight away. It's going to rain, but this dress should dry quickly. Use lots of soap, but don't scrub it by hand—scrape the mud off with a brush."
"Why a brush?"
"Because your fingers will just grind dirt into the threads. A brush is more porous."
The young sons of the family Rishe served spent their time tumbling in the dirt, and she had plenty of experience scraping mud out of clothes. She could even salvage dirty socks that had spent days crumpled in the corner.
"Do you… Are you…" Elsie trailed off, blinking rapidly a couple of times before finally looking Rishe in the eyes.
"Are you the crown princess's maid?"
Unsure how to answer, Rishe couldn't meet her eyes.
**************************************
After parting ways with Elsie, Rishe returned to the detached wing with her fresh water. She put clean sheets on the bed the knights had installed, satisfied that she had a comfortable place to sleep. This room also had the highest-up balcony in the whole detached palace.
Taking a break, she wandered out onto the balcony and looked off over the capital, the golden afternoon tinged with the onset of twilight. The day was fresh with a recent rain, the air clear enough to see for miles. The spring breeze felt good against her skin, sweaty from cleaning. Rishe leaned against the railing, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.
She felt like collapsing into bed immediately, but she desperately needed a wash. Still, she didn't want to pull herself away from the view and the breeze just yet. When she resumed gazing out absentmindedly, something her mother once said drifted back to her.
"Rishe, there is no need for you to think for yourself."
She frowned, the memories coming thick and fast now.
"You mustn't forget that the duty of our family is to live our lives fully devoted to the kings of the land. You're smart, but all the thinking in the world won't do a woman any good. You need only concern yourself with how best to serve the crown prince."
"Studies? Focus on social etiquette—that's what you need for navigating high society. The crown prince's bride must be flawless. Your smile is lacking. You must always strive to appear amiable."
Rishe breathed out a long sigh. When I was fifteen, their lectures were the only thing I thought about.
Her parents preached constantly. "A woman's true happiness is to marry a suitable man and give birth to his heirs."
"But, Mother…"
Objection was not permitted. Any argument was immediately dispensed with.
As a woman, Rishe could not inherit her father's title. Her only value was in her marriage.
Despite knowing now that the opinions of others were as worthless as empty titles, the words still echoed in her memories.