Meanwhile, The world outside their chambers seemed far away. It was different there because the maids were there knocking endlessly.
Alaric heard the knock too, of course, his keen ears always attuned to the sounds of the castle. But he ignored it, his jaw tightening with impatience. He wanted no disturbance. Not now. Not when he finally had time with his wife.
'They'll leave,'he thought darkly.
Outside, the three maids stood, glancing between each other as the silence dragged on.
Priscilla huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "This is outrageous! We've been knocking for far too long," she snapped, her tone sharp. "What could they possibly be doing? They must know we're out here!"
Sarah, the youngest of the group, blushed at Priscilla's implications. "They're newlyweds, Priscilla. Let them be. It's only natural they need time to… you know, get to know each other," she said softly, her cheeks tinged with pink. She cast a quick glance at the door, a secret smile tugging at her lips. "It's sweet, really."
Emma, standing awkwardly between the two, shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Shouldn't we wait a little longer?" she asked, her voice hesitant. "Maybe they're… still resting?"
Priscilla's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Resting? Hardly! They're just being difficult. I'm going to report this to the head maiden. We can't have a princess who thinks she can ignore the staff whenever she pleases!"
With that, Priscilla turned on her heel and stormed down the hallway, her steps quick and purposeful. Emma and Sarah exchanged worried glances before hurrying after her, their skirts rustling as they followed her through the winding corridors of the castle.
The castle was alive with morning activity. Guards stood at attention at every corner, their armor gleaming in the soft daylight. Sarah, still flushed from earlier, couldn't help but glance shyly at one of the younger knights standing near the entrance to the gardens. His broad shoulders and strong jaw made her heart flutter, and when their eyes met, she quickly looked away, her face burning.
Emma noticed and giggled quietly. "You're as red as a rose, Sarah."
"Shush," Sarah whispered back, embarrassed. "I wasn't looking at him."
Emma grinned but said nothing, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
They continued down the long hallway, passing through the castle's lush gardens where the morning breeze gently rustled the leaves. The scent of roses and lavender filled the air, a stark contrast to the tension growing between the maids. Priscilla marched ahead, her face set in a determined scowl.
Finally, they reached the grand kitchen.
The grand kitchen was already bustling with life that morning. It was a vast, impressive space with high ceilings and large windows that allowed the golden morning light to filter through.
The rich scent of freshly baked bread, simmering soups, and roasted meats filled the air, mingling with the occasional waft of herbs and spices from the storage room nearby.
The kitchen maids moved swiftly, their aprons tied tightly around their waists, hair neatly pinned back, and faces focused as they …busied themselves with their tasks.
The clattering of pots and pans blended with the rhythmic chop of knives against wooden boards as vegetables were diced for the royal family's breakfast. Large copper kettles hung over open fires, their contents bubbling and steaming as a handful of older maids carefully monitored them.
In the center of it all was Matilde, the head maiden, her sharp eyes scanning the kitchen like a hawk surveying its territory.
She moved gracefully despite her age, her tall frame cutting an imposing figure against the chaos of the kitchen.
Her lips were set in a firm line as she inspected the maids' work, ensuring everything was in perfect order for the morning meal. She was known for her high standards, and no one dared slack off in her presence.
The kitchen was not just a place of work, but a finely-tuned orchestra of maids, and each had their role to play. In one corner, two maids prepared the dough for the next batch of bread, their fingers expertly kneading the soft, elastic mass.
In another, a younger maid carefully skinned apples, preparing them for the compote that would accompany the breakfast pastries. Their conversations were brief, whispered exchanges about the events of the day or hushed gossip from the night before.
"Did you hear about Lady Salviana?" one maid whispered, her hands deftly peeling carrots. "She went down to Princess Irene yesterday. I heard Princess Irene was furious."
"She got slapped on the face,"
The other maid, her face flushed from standing too close to the fire, nodded. "It's strange. She's so lovely. I wonder how she's adjusting to being married to him."
"I heard the third prince was furious,"
The conversation quickly ceased as Matilde passed by, her keen hearing picking up even the softest murmurs. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing, her mere presence enough to remind the maids of their duties.
As they entered the grand kitchen, the warmth of the ovens and the rich smell of food hit them in a comforting wave. Maids darted past them, too focused on their tasks to notice the trio. Priscilla marched straight toward Matilde, her eyes glinting with anticipation.
"Lady Matilde," Priscilla began, her voice stiff with formality. "We've knocked on Lady Salviana's chamber door several times this morning, but she refuses to respond. We thought it best to bring the matter to you."
Matilde paused, her gaze sharp as she regarded the young maid. "Refuses to respond?" she repeated, her tone clipped.
Sarah stepped forward, trying to soften the blow. "I'm sure it's not intentional, my lady. They're newlyweds, after all. Maybe they just need a little more time."
Priscilla shot her a look of disdain, but Matilde's frown deepened. "That may be, but a princess has duties to attend to. She cannot simply ignore them because she is newly married."
Matilde didn't wait for more excuses. With a swift nod, she motioned for them to follow her. "Come. Let's remind her of her responsibilities."
The three maids trailed behind her as she swept through the kitchen and into the hallway, her presence commanding as ever. Along the way, they passed by Lady Margaret, who was hurrying toward the chambers, clearly disheveled. Her gown, which might once have been fine, was wrinkled and stained in places, and her hair was haphazardly pinned up. She hadn't come to the chambers the day before, and her appearance suggested she hadn't made much of an effort to correct that mistake.
"Good morning, Lady Matilde," Margaret greeted, her voice breathless as she curtsied. "Is something the matter?"
Matilde stopped, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed Margaret's appearance. "Lady Salviana has not answered her chamber door this morning," she said sharply. "I trust you've been attending to her properly?"
Margaret's face paled. "I… I tried, my lady. But she's difficult to—"
"Excuses," Matilde interrupted, her tone cold. "As her lady-in-waiting, it is your responsibility to ensure she is ready for the day. Clearly, you are failing in that task."
Margaret's lips tightened, but she offered no protest. Instead, she fell in line behind them as they made their way back to the prince's chambers.
Priscilla's heart swelled with satisfaction. This was exactly what she wanted. She could already picture Lady Salviana being chastised, the princess put in her place.
Sarah, however, glanced nervously at the others, unsure of whether they were doing the right thing. Emma, quiet as always, kept her thoughts to herself, though her frown deepened with each step they took.
This was exactly what had happened the other morning.
Priscilla wasted no time in striding up to Mathilde. "Lady Matilde, we have a problem," she began, her voice laced with frustration. "Lady Salviana is refusing to answer her door. We knocked and knocked, but there was no response."
Matilde frowned, turning her gaze to the young maid. "Refusing to answer?" she repeated slowly, her displeasure clear. "A princess should never ignore her staff. This is unacceptable."
Sarah quickly stepped forward, trying to defuse the situation. "I'm sure it's not intentional, Lady Matilde. They're newlyweds, and… well, they might just need more time."
Priscilla cut her off, her voice sharp. "That's no excuse. Lady Salviana has responsibilities now. She can't hide behind her marriage."
Matilde's frown deepened. "This will not do," she said, her voice cold. "Come. We will remind her of her duties." She turned and motioned for the maids to follow her.
As they made their way back through the halls, they encountered Lady Margarejust like now.
The woman was always dressed gaudily. The woman was disheveled, her dress wrinkled and slightly stained, her hair pinned up carelessly.
"Good morning, Lady Matilde," Margaret greeted, trying to smooth down her dress as she approached. "Is something wrong?"
Matilde's eyes narrowed at the sight of her. "Yes, there is. Your charge, Lady Salviana, is not behaving as a princess should. She is refusing to get up or attend to her duties."
Margaret blinked, clearly taken aback, but quickly recovered. "Well, I've tried my best to teach her, but perhaps she's just… slow to adjust."
"Then you are failing her as a lady-in-waiting," Matilde snapped. "Come with us. We're going to have a word with her."
As they marched toward the third prince's chambers, Priscilla couldn't hide the smug satisfaction on her face.
She was eager to see Salviana put in her place, while Sarah, trailing behind, felt a growing sense of dread. Emma, ever quiet, frowned, unsure of what to make of the situation.
They would soon reach the chambers, and none of them knew the storm waiting for them inside.