Chapter 8: In the Aftermath of Treason

The castle changed rapidly in the next few days. Leon was imprisoned in the dungeons, kept behind locked doors and only attended by deaf guards. The twins moved into the royal suite, where they set about the business of statecraft--establishing connections with lesser nobility, revising taxes on merchant spending, and any number of other things contained in the missives pouring in and out of the castle's doors.

I, for the most part, was left alone. Either the twins didn't see me as a threat, or they decided further action against me might look too suspicious. They kept their distance, though I suspected my frequent assignment to the most mundane chores was anything but an accident.

Surprisingly, those tasks included a shift as Princess Minerva's handmaid. I brought her breakfast on the morning of, trying to settle the nerves inside me.

Did I think the princess would remember me? She probably would, I was the servant who told her of her father's death, after all. Would she hate me for it? I didn't think I could stand being hated by Princess Minerva. It was odd, that of all the torments I'd been subjected to in this castle, the disdain of the princess was the worst.

I found her in her sitting room, another book in her lap. Princess Minerva looked up at my approach, her eyes wide and practically glowing in the early morning light.

"Hello, Butterfly," she said.

I set down her breakfast tray and curtsied. "Good morning, princess. I've been assigned to serve you today."

She stood suddenly and rushed to me, clasping my hands in hers. Inches away from my face, her eyes searched mine, looking for something I didn't understand. I thought I might lose myself in that moment, caught in some frozen window of time like a storybook hero and his rescued princess. But then I remembered my place, and forced myself to break eye contact. Looking down proved more troublesome--she only had a nightgown on, and the silhouette of her curves left me feeling enchanted in an entirely different sense.

"Are we alone?" Princess Minerva asked.

I glanced around. "Yes? Princess, I believe we are."

She wrapped her arms around me and snuggled close against my chest. I froze, entirely uncertain of how to behave. Princess Minerva was warm against me, her smaller frame fit perfectly into mine and I had to consciously resist the urge to return the embrace.

"Can I... help you with something, princess?" I asked after a moment's hesitation.

Something about what I said broke the spell. Princess Minerva pulled away, frantically straightening her hair as though nothing strange had happened.

"I am so, so sorry," she stammered, "I don't know what came over me--I'm mad, you see, I do these things some times. Please don't think too much of it, I don't mean anything by it."

She was blushing furiously, and the way her face scrunched up when she was embarrassed made her look adorable. I struggled not to laugh.

"Of course, princess." I offered another curtsy. "How can I help you today?"

Princess Minerva took a deep breath and shook her head. "Could you please leave me to get dressed and eat? In a little while, I'd like you to accompany me on a visit to my mother's crypt."

I noticed she phrased her orders deliberately to avoid using the Imperative. I didn't know what to make of that.

"I'll rejoin you shortly," I said, and left.

An hour later found us walking solemnly through the castle's less-used corridors. The guards we passed didn't seem very surprised to see us; I decided that the rumors about Princess Minerva's seclusion must have been mostly inaccurate.

"I should warn you," Princess Minerva said after we were halfway down a spiral staircase, "I could faint at any moment."

I glanced nervously at the harsh angle of the steps still ahead of us. "A part of your... condition?" I asked, then added hastily, "of course, Princess. Would you like me to take your arm?"

She nodded and slipped her arm through mine. Now we continued, taking each step side by side.

"It is and it isn't," Princess Minerva answered after a moment's silence.

"What is, princess?" I asked.

"The fainting," she said. "When I was a baby, my father couldn't stand the sound of my crying. He would order me to sleep. The Imperative has... lasting effects, sometimes."

"I'm sorry, princess." The words felt weak in my mouth. "I had no idea."

"It was not the worst of his crimes," she answered simply.

My heart ached for her. In all the stories ever told about Princess Minerva, I had never once heard someone mention her childhood. No one spared a thought to the countless ways a child might have been mistreated.

"The twins made me eat a frog once," Princess Minerva added, "they thought it was hilarious."

"A whole frog?" My stomach flipped. "That's terrible, princess."

"It did not feel good, going down." Princess Minerva shivered and drew closer to me. It felt natural, to walk with her like this. Even with the difference in our standing, even given the dark topic of our conversation, I was happy to be with her.

"Perhaps we could talk about something more cheerful, princess?" I prompted her.

"Of course, Butterfly," she said, brightening. "What would you like to talk about?"

"Why do you call me that?" I asked.

Princess Minerva stiffened for a moment, then tugged on her hair in a familiar nervous gesture. "Because," she answered, "You remind me of a butterfly."

Had something I'd said bothered her? I tried to diffuse the tension with a joke. "You don't see me as anything stronger, Princess? Like a flower or a single straw of hay?"

I am not a very funny person.

Nevertheless, Princess Minerva laughed. She had a snickering snort of a laugh, one wholly at odds with the elegance of her appearance. I had to conceal my own smile beneath my free hand.

"Butterflies are surprising creatures," Princess Minerva said, "they can be poisonous. And some drink blood."

We passed the rest of our walk in easy conversation. I stood at a respectful distance when we reached the crypt and watched as Princess Minerva paid her respects to the dead. The queen had died in childbirth, I knew, and she had been the King's fourth wife. The Princess had never really met anyone she could call mother. I wanted to comfort Minerva, to wrap my arms around her and hold her close so that the rest of the world couldn't do her any more harm.

We walked back to her tower in silence, arm-in-arm again. When we arrived, I curtsied and asked her if she needed anything else. The formality felt wrong, after the easy company of the afternoon.

Princess Minerva surprised me with another hug. With her head nuzzled against me, I could smell the scent of flowers and earth, the essence of growing things. Of spring.

"I would love it if you came again, Butterfly," Princess Minerva said, "I'll show you the garden next time."

I promised I would and left in a daze. Was I dreaming? Had I hallucinated the entire afternoon? The princess hadn't treated me like a maid in the slightest--it was as though we were friends, or even something closer. I tried not to think about how badly I wanted us to actually be that way.

It occurred to me then, too, that other than the hug she had given me when I first arrived, nothing about Princess Minerva seemed mad at all. She was ordinary. Beautiful, charming, adorable, kind, and unbelievably attractive, but ordinary.

That particular mystery would have to wait, however, for on the floor of my room I found a scrap of paper. A note, on which was written: 'We need to talk. Come to me. Please. --Leon'