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Afternoon.
Garden, 3rd Prince Chambers.
Wyfkeep Castle, Wyfellon.
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Meanwhile back in the castle, Salviana sat stiffly on a delicate stone bench in the chamber's private garden, she was now dressed in a gown of deep burgundy with fine gold embroidery. The soft breeze carried the scent of fresh roses, and the calming trickle of a nearby fountain might have been pleasant under any other circumstances.
But now, Salviana was at war—with herself, with what transpired between her husband and her falling on her butt on the bridge, with the ridiculous situation, and with the woman standing before her who was supposed to be "teaching" her how to behave like royalty.
Lady Margaretha—Salviana's newly appointed lady-in-waiting—was no ordinary quack. She was a disaster dressed in ill-fitting silk, the sort of woman who carried herself as if she knew exactly what she was talking about when, in truth, she had no idea.
Salviana believed Alaric, had carelessly left her in this woman's hands, probably unaware—or unconcerned—that Lady Margaretha had clearly been hired for her proximity to court gossip rather than any actual expertise in royal etiquette.
She was a total whacko.
"Now, my dear princess, when entering a room full of courtiers, you must always ensure your presence is known by…" Lady Margaretha paused dramatically, waving a hand through the air as if she were conjuring the answer from thin air. "…by making a very, very loud entrance." she declared.
Salviana blinked, unsure she had heard correctly. Loud? She had imagined that subtlety, grace, and poise would be more appropriate. But, no. Apparently, Lady Margaretha had other ideas.
Across the garden, Emma, Sarah, and Priscilla—the maids working quietly around the chamber—paused mid-task, wide-eyed with disbelief. Emma nearly dropped the vase she was polishing, while Sarah stifled a giggle behind a gloved hand. Priscilla however seemed pleased.
Salviana bit the inside of her cheek, slightly avoided eye contact, trying not to show her reaction. Her facial muscles betrayed her despite her best efforts, and Lady Margaretha noticed immediately.
"There it is again!" Lady Margaretha snapped, pointing a manicured finger at Salviana's face. "That expression! You mustn't look so 'obvious', my dear! Royalty always remains blank, emotionless. You look as though you're about to throw up, and that's simply 'unacceptable'!"
Salviana blinked once more, stunned at the contradiction. First, she was supposed to make a grand, noisy entrance, and now she wasn't even allowed to have an expression? The longer the lesson dragged on, the more it felt like a farce.
Internally, she sighed. 'What on earth is this woman talking about?' She had been married into this royal mess without a choice, and now she was being subjected to this embarrassing excuse of an etiquette lesson.
What had she done to deserve this? The energy it took to maintain even the semblance of politeness was starting to drain her. She had just survived her husbands test, she didn't have energy for this.
"Your Highness, now let us discuss the 'correct' way to walk," Lady Margaretha continued, demonstrating an odd strut that resembled a pigeon with a limp. "You must sway your hips more—'no, more!'—and remember to let everyone know you're in the room with confidence."
Emma nearly snorted from behind a bush where she had been trimming the roses, while Sarah bit her lip so hard that her eyes watered. Salviana caught their expressions out of the corner of her eye, and it took every ounce of self-control not to join them in laughter.
'Confidence?' Salviana thought incredulously. 'She looks like a drunken bird.'
Salviana tried to copy the walk, but it felt unnatural and ridiculous. Her feet didn't glide; they shuffled, and she could feel her face contorting with discomfort. Lady Margaretha, predictably, was not impressed.
"No, no, no! You must be more... graceful! Do you see how I do it?" Lady Margaretha strutted back and forth in front of Salviana with exaggerated movements, her arms flapping a little too freely for comfort.
The maids exchanged glances, their eyes widening at the sheer absurdity of the scene. Emma ducked behind a hedge, clearly losing the battle against laughter, while Sarah's face was flushed with the effort of staying quiet.
"I can see from your expression, Your Highness," Lady Margaretha said, her tone sharp, "that you are 'not' taking this seriously. That simply won't do. Royalty must master the art of deception! Your face must reveal nothing!"
Salviana bit back a sarcastic retort. 'Of course,' she thought bitterly, 'deception. The most important lesson for a princess—how to mask everything.' She shifted on the bench, growing increasingly tired of the absurdity of this whole affair.
Lady Margaretha then moved on to her next "lesson," completely unaware of the chaos she was sowing.
"And now for conversation!" she said, puffing herself up. "When engaging with noblemen, you must not worry about what they are saying. Instead, you must—"
"Wait," Salviana interrupted for the first time, her curiosity piqued despite herself. "You mean to say that I shouldn't listen to the conversations at all?"
Lady Margaretha waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, heavens no! Who has time to listen to the endless droning of noblemen? Instead, just nod occasionally and make vague, agreeable sounds. They'll be too busy hearing their own voices to notice."
Emma nearly choked from laughter behind a pillar, while Priscilla gave up trying to maintain a straight face, her eyes watering as she ducked her head low, she was enjoying this.
Salviana's mind was spinning. This was madness. The woman was suggesting she pretend to listen to people's problems and simply agree with everything? The more she heard, the more she wondered how this woman had ever been allowed within fifty feet of the court.
But Lady Margaretha wasn't finished.
"And as for handling delicate political matters," she continued, "if someone asks you about the kingdom's affairs, simply say, 'Oh, I leave all of that to my husband!' People 'love' a princess who doesn't meddle in important matters."
Salviana's patience finally cracked. "Isn't that the 'opposite' of what I should be doing?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief. "Shouldn't I be involved, aware of the kingdom's politics, and capable of forming my own opinions?"
Lady Margaretha paused, her face blank for the first time. Clearly, this line of thought hadn't crossed her mind. "Well... I suppose... but really, darling, people expect you to be decorative, not decisive."
Decorative? The word made Salviana's blood boil. She hadn't been raised to be merely a pretty face or a silent shadow behind her husband. She was many things—intelligent, strong-willed, and yes, capable of forming her own opinions. This "quack" of a lady-in-waiting wasn't helping her become a princess; she was trying to reduce her to a hollow, passive figure.
'She was now Gaunt-gaudy-quack lady-in-waiting.'
Was she paid to lead Salviana astray?
Margaretha droned on but Salviana's mind wandered, drifting away from the rigid lessons that suffocated her spirit.
Once, her days had been filled with vibrant colors and gentle strokes of paintbrushes gliding across canvas. 'Those were the moments of true joy,' she thought wistfully.
The paintings had been her escape, each piece a reflection of her emotions—bold sunsets, serene landscapes, and whimsical dreams. Yet, in the hands of her greedy family, those dreams had been reduced to mere coins. She had been forced to sell her treasured artworks, each transaction a piece of her soul taken away.
Now, in this place of elegance and restraint, the thought of painting felt foreign and frightening. 'Would Alaric allow it'
She sighed at the thought of the stifling expectations around her.
The vibrant strokes of her past clashed with the sophisticated decorum of her new life. 'Could she find a way to express herself again?'
Or at least find a way to leave this ridiculous lesson.
Just as Salviana was about to respond, a soft knock came at the garden door. The sound was followed by the presence of one of the guards now stationed outside her chambers, he stepped forward and bowed.
"Your Grace," he said, addressing Salviana, "you have a visitor." he announced, his head still very bowed.
Salviana stood immediately, grateful for the interruption and more than ready to escape Lady Margaretha's ridiculous antics. "A visitor? Who is it?" she asked the guard who looked so frightened you'll think he was talking to Alaric and not her, he had sweats trailing down his head and his lips just won't part enough to talk as he replied.
"Her grace, Lady Princess Lilian Velthorne," Salviana blinked at the name, maybe she shouldn't have asked because she didn't even know who that was, but at least she knew it wasn't the glaring princess who's seat Alaric had almost made her take at breakfast. That one would probably rather burn than be seen here.
"She's awaiting you inside the chamber. She wishes to join you for the Luncheon." the guard continued.
"Luncheon?" Salviana asked, puzzled.
"Lunch, Princess Salviana is ready and we'd serve it at your signal," Emma said primly, however, Lady Margaretha was not done, "Oh no, darling, we're not finished yet! You haven't even mastered the royal wave!"