Jean paced nervously outside the seventh princess's chambers, glancing at the sun sinking low in the sky.
She hadn't seen Salviana since the princess was summoned to the queen's chambers earlier that day.
Now, as the royal guards signaled Salviana's return, Jean hurried forward, her heart pounding.
The princess appeared at the end of the corridor, her fiery red hair catching the fading sunlight.
Despite her elegant composure, she looked visibly tired. Jean ran to meet her.
"Your Grace," Jean greeted, bowing her head slightly.
Salviana smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she stepped inside her chambers. Jean followed close behind.
As soon as they entered, Salviana dropped her calm demeanor, her movements brisk as she attempted to reach the zipper at the back of her dress. "This gown is suffocating," she muttered.
Jean hurried to assist, reaching for the zipper with practiced ease. "How did your meeting go with the queen?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.
Salviana sighed, stepping out of the elaborate gown. "She seems… nice. And lonely."
Jean blinked, surprised. "Lonely? The queen? But she has everything—children, servants, and an entire kingdom to keep her company."
Salviana considered this, folding her hands. "I suppose. But she invited me to talk, not to lecture or scrutinize me. It felt… genuine."
Jean frowned, helping Salviana into a lighter robe. "That's unexpected. Usually, royals like her don't waste their time on anything that isn't politics or appearances."
Emma, one of the younger maids, entered the room carrying a silver tray with a drink. Salviana accepted it gratefully, her posture softening as she sipped.
"She said she's been hearing a lot about me and wanted to welcome me properly. Apparently, it was overdue." Salviana said.
Jean raised an eyebrow. "So… she doesn't hate you?"
Salviana tilted her head thoughtfully. "It didn't feel like she did. But…" Her voice trailed off as she sank into a chair, her mind drifting back to the queen's chambers.
The queen's chambers were a blend of grandeur and warmth, the scent of fresh flowers mingling with the sharp aroma of ink and parchment.
After Jean left the queen had continued her invitation, "Come, sit with me," the queen said, gesturing to a cushioned bench beside her. "Let's have tea."
As they sipped their tea, the queen's tone softened. "Do you have any hobbies, my dear?" she asked. "I've always enjoyed embroidery, though none of my daughters seem to share my passion."
Salviana brightened. "I enjoy painting," she said enthusiastically.
The queen's lips twitched into a faint grimace. "Painting? Quite a messy hobby, if you ask me."
Salviana's heart sank at the queen's disapproval, she loved painting, but she quickly recovered. "Actually," she said smoothly, "I've been trying to learn embroidery. Perhaps I could use some guidance. I'd be honored to have you as my mentor."
The queen's eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands together. "Delightful! I look forward to seeing your work."
"You are such a darling," the queen added making Salviana blush. She had simply wanted to make the queen happy but it appears she had done it again.
Put someone else first. Alaric had warned her to think of herself in every situation but that would be selfish.
Yet she had easily back away, she didn't defend a hobby she's had all her life and easily decided she fancied embroidery, she blinked.
At least now she'd have one more skill.
Their conversation drifted into other, less personal topics until the queen leaned back, her gaze distant.
"Queen Reannon would've loved you," Sansa said suddenly, her tone wistful.
Salviana's chest tightened. "Queen Reannon?" she echoed, the name hitting her like a wave. Reannon was Alaric's mother—her mother-in-law, whom she would never meet.
"Yes," the queen said softly. "She had a warmth about her. A strength. You remind me of her."
"I would love to know more about her," Salviana admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Perhaps next time," the queen promised with a faint smile.
Jean's voice brought Salviana back to the present. "So, what happened?"
Salviana sighed, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. "She mentioned Alaric's mother. Said she would have liked me."
Jean's eyes widened. "That's… a compliment. A rare one."
"It was," Salviana said softly. "It made me happy, but also sad. I'll never know her, but it's comforting to think that she might have approved of me."
Jean leaned forward, her expression serious. "It sounds like the queen doesn't hate you, but don't let your guard down too soon. Royals can be… tricky."
Salviana nodded, setting her glass down. "I know. But for now, I'll take this as a small victory."
Jean smirked. "Just don't start embroidering and forget how to paint."
Salviana laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing. "I'll try not to."
As the evening settled, the two women shared a moment of quiet understanding, their bond growing stronger with each passing day.
Outside, the distant sounds of the palace faded into the night, leaving the princess and her loyal companion to plan their next steps in this intricate game of alliances and survival.
Soon, The soft glow of evening settled over the chambers, casting a warm amber light through the tall windows.
Salviana stood by the vanity, her fiery red hair catching the hues of the fading sun, when Jean stepped in with a cheerful demeanor.
"Let's get you ready for dinner," Jean suggested, clasping her hands together.
Salviana nodded, stretching her arms wearily. "I suppose I should look presentable."
As Salviana prepared for her bath, Jean dismissed the maids with a polite smile. "I'll tend to her tonight," she explained, leaving them curiously glancing at one another.
After her bath, Salviana emerged wrapped in a soft robe, her cheeks glowing from the warm water. Jean stood ready by the vanity, holding a comb in her hand.
"Jean," Salviana said, arching a brow, "where are the maids? They usually handle this." She said trying to understand what was happening.
Just in case Jean felt obliged.