Morning
Salviana's Chambers.
!
Jean hesitated, her words trailing off like a wisp of smoke. "This royal family is..." she began, but stopped, unsure how to complete the sentence.
The morning light filtered softly through the tall windows of Salviana's chambers, casting a warm glow on the room's polished floors and delicate furnishings.
Jean sat across from her lady in the small parlor, her hands resting lightly in her lap, fingers twitching with nervous energy as she glanced toward Salviana.
"This royal family is…" Jean began again, hesitating. "It's just so… intricate." She decided on the word carefully, her tone laced with subtle disbelief.
Salviana laughed lightly, her smile softening her features. "I know. It's tiring to be part of the castle. Every day feels like a test. But it's a journey, Jean. I hope you're ready for it."
Jean's face brightened with determination. "Right next to you, my lady," she said warmly.
Salviana tilted her head, her expression genuinely grateful. "Thank you, Miss Goliath. I'm glad my husband brought you to me. You do your work well, and more importantly, you're a likeable person."
Jean's cheeks flushed slightly, and she smiled back. "You're a likeable person too, Your Grace. Far more than most here deserve."
Salviana paused, her smile lingering before she leaned forward slightly. "Perhaps we should drop the formalities when we're alone?"
Jean blinked in surprise but nodded after a beat. "Thank you, my lady—I mean, Salviana. I wouldn't dare presume, but I would love that."
For the first time in a while, Salviana laughed wholeheartedly. "Do you have a nickname, Jean?"
Jean hesitated, her smile turning wry. "No… but someone has been calling me 'Pumpkin' lately."
Salviana raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Oh, that's adorable. A lover, perhaps?"
Jean nearly choked on her own breath. "A lover? Hardly. He's practically a ghost!" she said with an exaggerated eye roll.
Salviana frowned, her confusion evident, but she chose to nod anyway. At least this was a lighthearted conversation, something that felt refreshingly normal.
"I'm just glad I'm finally having a conversation with someone my age who's actually kind," she said, her tone sincere.
"My former lady-in-waiting treated me like a misbehaving student, and herself like some all-knowing governess. Worst of all, her lessons were all wrong."
Jean snorted softly. "She had quite the reputation when I met her. Honestly, it's a wonder you survived under her care."
Salviana chuckled but sobered quickly. "It was awful. She never took my side. I was always alone in everything. Thank you for standing up for me yesterday."
Jean straightened, her gaze steady. "I hunger for no other side to take but yours, Salviana. Rest assured of that."
The sincerity in her tone brought a rare smile to Salviana's face. Her curiosity grew, and she tilted her head. "What would you have been if you weren't a lady-in-waiting?"
Jean hesitated for a moment before answering truthfully. "I'm an archaeologist," she said, her voice carrying an unexpected note of pride.
Salviana's eyes widened in surprise. "An archaeologist? That's… fascinating. I—"
Her words were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door, followed by Sarah's hurried voice. "Your Grace, the Queen requests your presence in her chambers. Immediately."
Salviana shot up from her seat, startled. "The Queen?" she echoed, her tone filled with disbelief.
Jean rose too, her expression tightening with concern. "It must be urgent."
The maids rushed in, eager to assist. "We'll need to prepare you quickly, Your Grace," one of them said with a smile.
Salviana blinked, slightly overwhelmed. "I don't think there's time for all that. If it's urgent, I should just go as I am."
Jean shook her head firmly. "No. You should feel and look your best when standing before the royals. It's not just about appearances—it's about presence. It could be a bad invitation"
Salviana hesitated but eventually nodded, realizing the truth in Jean's words. "You're right. I need to be prepared."
Still, a part of her clung to optimism. "But I won't be pessimistic about it."
Jean's smile was wry as she replied, "That's fine. I'll be pessimistic for you."
They laugh.
Together, they moved to the adjoining room, where the maids quickly retouched Salviana's hair and makeup. Jean stayed close, offering quiet words of encouragement.
As Salviana finally stepped out, she glanced back at Jean. "What do you think the Queen wants?"
Jean's face darkened slightly with worry, but she gave a small shrug. "If I were to guess? Likely nothing pleasant. But whatever it is, remember—you're stronger than they think."
Salviana took a deep breath, her hands smoothing the folds of her gown. She wished she'd thought to bring flowers or a token of goodwill, but all she had now was her resolve.
Plastering on her brightest smile, she strode toward the Queen's chambers, her heart pounding with both anticipation and unease.
Salviana and Jean walked down the ornate corridors toward the Queen's chambers, flanked by silent guards. The atmosphere grew heavier with every step. The Queen's wing was far grander than any other part of the castle, with polished marble floors, walls lined with tapestries depicting the kingdom's victories, and chandeliers casting a soft golden glow.
Maids and guards they passed along the way greeted them politely, though some ducked their heads in fear. Salviana noted the contrast; fear and reverence seemed to hang in the air like a thick mist.
"This part of the castle feels... different," Jean murmured softly, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings.
"Different?" Salviana turned to Jean, her voice tinged with curiosity and apprehension.
Jean nodded, her gaze sweeping across the polished marble walls adorned with intricate tapestries. "Like it belongs to someone who doesn't just rule—but commands. It's not just a palace; it's a display of dominance."
Salviana's fingers brushed against the fabric of her gown as she absorbed Jean's words. She smiled nervously, trying to mask the knot tightening in her stomach. "You're not wrong," she said softly.
"My mother would've adored being here. She always spoke so highly of the queen. She admired her strength and grace. She would've been so proud to be in this garden."
Jean tilted her head, her expression softening. "I'm sure she'd be proud of you now, Your Grace."
Salviana chuckled faintly, though her smile was tinged with sad melancholy. 'Her mother would be jealous.'
"She always said the queen was like a beacon—someone who held the kingdom together. I'm not sure I'll ever live up to her expectations." Salviana said, she couldn't talk bad about her mother.
Jean gave her a sidelong glance, her voice steady. "You're stronger than you think. It takes more than appearances to hold a position like yours. You're already navigating this world with more grace than most."
Before Salviana could respond, the announcement came: "Her Majesty the Queen approaches."