In the heart of Wyfkeep Castle, a vast, high-ceilinged hall bustled with a feminine energy as the royal ladies of the realm gathered for the coming celebration's planning session.
Afternoon light poured through stained glass windows, bathing the hall in warm hues of pink and gold that softened every detail.
The room, designed with plush lounges and adorned with fresh blooms from the castle gardens, radiated an unmistakable charm.
Seventeen ladies, a lively gathering of princesses and noblewomen, sat or reclined on the opulent furnishings, fanning themselves in the changing weather, their pets resting beside them on silk cushions.
Some sipped on delicate rosewater tea, while others shared pastries from trays being passed by their maids.
The queen, poised and regal in a lavender silk gown, stood at the head of the hall, her back straight and her demeanor commanding.
"Ladies, we have the Royal Celebrations coming up in just three weeks, and the preparations must be flawless," she declared, her voice cutting clearly through the gentle hum of conversation. "Each of you has a role, and I trust you will see it through with the attention and care expected of you."
Diana, the queen's sister, dressed in a rich shade of crimson, leaned back in her chair with a glint of amusement.
Her gaze, sharp and inquisitive, swept across the room as she took in each face until she raised her voice, interrupting the queen's address. "Where is Princess Salviana?" she asked, brow raised in question. "Shouldn't the princess be here to hear all of this?"
The murmur among the ladies stilled, then began again, louder this time as they exchanged curious, disapproving glances.
One of the princesses, a tall brunette named Elara, folded her arms and sniffed dismissively. "Probably off somewhere with Prince Alaric, as usual. She hardly ever joins us, does she?"
A quiet but rising wave of agreement spread through the hall, the ladies muttering about Salviana's absences.
"It's as if she doesn't care about her duties here," another princess, Mirabelle, chimed in, fanning herself vigorously as if the very thought of Salviana's disregard made her flush with indignation. "We're all here, but where is she? It feels like an insult."
Abigail, who sat to the queen's left, looked up sharply, her expression a mix of discomfort and loyalty. "Salviana has her own responsibilities," she interjected, her voice firm though her fingers fidgeted with the lace trim of her gown. "She's adjusting to her new role, and—"
Diana gave a wry smile, her eyes narrowing. "Adjusting by avoiding all of us? And do those 'responsibilities' of hers just involve Alaric's chambers?" Her words sparked a ripple of laughter around the hall, a few ladies nodding knowingly, their expressions sly.
"I just think it's a little… disrespectful, if I'm honest," Lady said, smoothing down her skirts as she spoke. "We're supposed to be working together, yet she behaves as if she's too important to join us."
Abigail felt the flush rising in her cheeks, torn between defending Salviana and not wanting to seem overly protective. "You misunderstand. Salviana might be a private person, not one to mingle idly—"
"Oh, come now, Abigail," interrupted Diana, her tone sharp. "Privacy is one thing, but she's practically made herself invisible. It's like she sees herself as somehow above us all."
"I wouldn't say above," ventured a younger princess named Lilia, her brows knit together as she stroked her pet rabbit, nestled comfortably in her lap. "But it does feel a bit…unfriendly." She pouted slightly, glancing at Abigail as if searching for an answer.
Another princess laughed, gently stroking her cat's ears. "If she's too distracted by Alaric to fulfill her duties, maybe we should consider giving her a smaller role." The cat purred as the princess's fingers slid beneath its chin, while the ladies' collective giggles grew louder, blending with the rustle of hand fans and the soft cooing of their pets.
Abigail clenched her hands around her fan, fighting the urge to speak again, but the queen's voice rose, silencing the chatter.
"Enough, ladies. Salviana is still the princess, and until she proves otherwise, she deserves your respect, even in her absence." The room quieted, though a few pursed lips and quiet scoffs hinted that not everyone agreed.
The queen resumed her speech, listing out the roles and tasks for each of the ladies in preparation for the celebration. "Genevieve and Irene, you are to oversee the floral arrangements in the banquet hall," she instructed, gesturing to the princesses in question. "Christina, you're in charge of coordinating the dancers and performers. I trust you will not let us down?"
Each assignment was met with a dutiful nod or a courtesy, though a few of the ladies whispered behind their hands, occasionally glancing at the empty chair that should have been Salviana's.
The conversation soon drifted, as such gatherings did, toward lighter topics once the queen finished her address.
"Have you seen the fabrics Lady Petryssa brought back from the south?" one princess asked, holding out a bolt of fine silk for the others to admire. "It's all the rage there this season. Imagine wearing something like this for the celebrations!"
Diana took the fabric between her fingers, assessing it with a critical eye. "It's exquisite, yes, but a bit too simple for my taste. For the royal celebrations, we need something… grander." She exchanged an approving glance with several of the other ladies, who murmured in agreement.
The ladies' pets — small dogs with ribbons tied around their necks, birds in delicate cages, and a few rabbits with glossy fur — darted about the hall, weaving between the ladies' skirts and adding a lively air to the gathering.
They seemed to catch the changing atmosphere, as a few panted from the warm breeze wafting through the open windows. The maids, diligently refilling glasses and passing around plates of sweets, paused now and then to dab their brows or offer fresh hand fans to the ladies.
Abigail took a small sip of her tea, trying to ignore the glances thrown her way. It was true that Salviana kept mostly to herself, but she wished the ladies understood that there was more to her friend than they realized.
A glance around the hall reminded her that this crowd had little interest in understanding someone they deemed an outsider.
Diana's voice broke her thoughts. "Well, let's hope Salviana makes an appearance at the celebration. It would be a shame if she missed her own family's festivities." Her voice held a mocking lilt, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
Abigail swallowed hard, forcing a smile as she took another pastry from the passing tray. "I'm sure she'll be there," she replied softly, though a flicker of doubt tugged at her words.
The gathering carried on, filled with laughter, gossip, and the occasional argument over which noble family's display of wealth would outshine the others at the event. The ladies traded stories, some playful and some pointed, the energy in the hall as warm and shifting as the late afternoon light spilling through the windows.
By the time they had finished, each princess had her task for the celebration, and despite the few stifled tensions, they all looked forward to seeing their plans come to life.
As the ladies finally rose to leave, exchanging curtsies and polite farewells, Abigail felt a pang of relief and concern.
She hoped Salviana would make her presence known in time, not only for the celebration but to prove to these ladies that she belonged among them.