The manual wasted no time in outlining its purpose.
The first few pages were all about the prestige of becoming a Lady in Waiting—how they were the silent strength behind the Princesses they served, the unsung pillars of grace and discipline. Q's brow furrowed as she skimmed over the grandiose descriptions. It sounded more like a fairy tale than a job.
The next section delved into the star system, and Q's interest piqued despite herself. It explained how rankings were determined, from daily evaluations to formal tests. Points were earned for everything from posture to etiquette to mastery of practical skills like needlework and dance.
So this is what she meant, Q thought, her roommate's sharp words about rankings and allowances coming back to her. She chewed her lip, her stomach tightening as the weight of it began to settle in.
She turned another page, the rustle of paper filling the quiet room. The lantern flickered softly above her, casting shadows across the words. For all her complaints, she couldn't stop now. The manual wasn't just a book—it was a roadmap, one she hadn't realized she'd need until now.
Her fingers traced the edge of the page as she read on, her scowl softening into something closer to focus. It wasn't easy, and the language made her head ache, but for the first time since she'd arrived, Q felt like she was starting to understand.
She already knew what Ladies-in-Waiting were.
A Lady-in-Waiting was just a fancy name for a companion—a glorified helper to someone important. She'd always thought it sounded simple enough, followed a Princess around, held her things, and maybe said a polite word here or there. Easy.
But this manual painted a very different picture.
She skimmed a paragraph that explained how Ladies-in-Waiting weren't servants, but court companions of a lower rank, often noblewomen themselves. They were meant to uphold the dignity of the court, to complement the Princess they served in grace, wit, and refinement. Q frowned, tapping the edge of the page with her finger.
Companions, she thought, not servants. Sure. But why's there a whole book about it if all you're doin' is keepin' someone company?
Her eyes flicked down to the next section, detailing the curriculum for trainees. And that's when it hit her.
Lessons.
A whole laundry list of lessons they were expected to master: history, court etiquette, languages, dance, needlework, music, even the art of conversation. The manual described it all with a cold, matter-of-fact tone, like it didn't care that just reading the words was making Q's head spin.
She slumped in her chair, letting out a groan. "Why do I need to know about history just to follow someone around?"
The manual, of course, didn't answer. It just stared back at her, relentless and unyielding.
Her gaze dropped to a section about the star system, and she squinted at the intricate explanation. It was all about rankings, a system that measured performance in everything from academics to behavior. Stars determined not only their standing but also their privileges. Access to better rooms, finer meals, personal tutors—it was all tied to the stars.
Q grimaced. She could already feel herself sinking to the bottom of that ladder, her feet stuck in the muck before she'd even started climbing.
The more she read, the clearer it became just how grueling her training was going to be.
The courses for Ladies-in-Waiting focused on discipline, obedience, and skill, drilling them into perfection. Her days would be filled with tasks meant to mold her into the ideal companion. It wasn't like Maddy's curriculum, all about politics and charm and diplomacy. No, this was about making herself useful, blending into the background until you were nothing but an extension of the Princess's will.
Her stomach churned.
Maddy would be learning how to command a room, how to stand tall and radiant like a Queen in waiting. Q, meanwhile, would be learning how to pour tea without spilling a drop, how to bow just right, how to bite her tongue and say, "Yes, Your Highness," with a smile.
She flipped the page, her scowl deepening. There was a chart showing how the stars were earned. Points for posture, for neatness, for successfully completing tasks. But there were just as many ways to lose stars—forgetting a rule, stepping out of line, failing to meet expectations.
Q closed the book with a dull thud, leaning back in her chair. Her eyes wandered to the window, where the stars outside seemed so much freer than the ones in her manual.
She'd thought coming to RAPS would mean a fresh start, a chance to finally stand beside Maddy without feeling like she didn't belong. But now, with the weight of the manual pressing down on her lap, she wasn't so sure.
But still, she reads, and reads, and reads some more.
…Q startled awake, the heavy book beneath her head sliding slightly on the polished wood of the table. Her neck ached from the awkward angle she'd been slumped in, and as she sat up, the first thing she noticed was the streak of drool that had pooled on the page in front of her.
"Ugh," she groaned, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. "Did I fall asleep…?"
The manual, still open to a section on court etiquette, stared back at her with its pristine but now slightly warped ink, as if mocking her. She closed it with a sigh, leaning back in her chair to stretch out the stiffness in her arms.
The morning light poured in through the small window above her, golden and warm. Outside, a pair of birds darted back and forth, their wings flashing as they swooped low across the garden. Q stared at them for a moment, smiling despite herself.
She didn't often wake up to things like this. Back home, the mornings were always a rush of chores—feeding the pigs, hauling water, and dodging her mother's sharp orders. The only birds she ever noticed were the crows, squawking at her from the fenceposts like they owned the place.
This was different.
She wiped at her face again, yawning as she leaned forward to glance out the window. The sky was a brilliant blue, with just a few fluffy clouds drifting lazily along. The sun was high, bright enough to—
Her smile froze.
Wait.
The sun was high.
Her eyes widened in alarm as she scrambled to her feet, the chair clattering loudly behind her.
"Oh no," she whispered, her heart sinking. She whipped her head around to the tiny clock on the wall, squinting to read its hands. "OH NO!"
The realization hit her like a kick to the gut, and before she could stop herself, the words burst out of her in a shrill, panicked wail.
"I'M LATE!!!"