The Luncheon

The next day, Rache received a proper breakfast in her room, complete with a maid who helped her dress.

The woman was middle-aged and was mostly silent as she assisted Rache. Her motions were rough and rather abrupt, tugging and jerking the outfit into place.

There was something unnerving about how mechanical and empty the woman's movements were.

Maybe Rache was being unfair, though.

She had no prior experience dealing with maids until she'd woken up in this world and met Laine.

And Laine...

Laine had never acted like a maid, never treated her as someone she served - they were equals. Laine was more...

Motherly.

So maybe...

This was just what a maid was like?

She winced as the woman tightened the corset of her gown too much.

"Apologies, my lady." The woman said, but her voice was dispassionate.

Rache didn't feel like putting up a fuss, however, as the woman did at least loosen the corset again. She would not have survived having it as tight as the woman initially drew it.

All told, the ordeal ended without further incident.

She thanked the woman, and after receiving a nod, was left to her own devices.

It was only after she heard the door closing behind the maid that she found herself relaxing.

The tension she held throughout the entire interaction seemed to drain out of her, leaving her weak and shaken.

She leaned back against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor.

...No.

It wasn't just the maid's actions, or mannerisms.

It was everything.

Being trapped in Sidera. Donncahd. Even being treated like royalty. It felt like her whole world had turned upside down.

And it wasn't helped at all by how incredibly, persistently fragile her body was.

She kept...

Collapsing.

At one point it was fun, cute even, with Laine to fuss over her and help her get back on her feet.

Now, however...

She felt like the rug was going to be yanked out from beneath her every moment of the day.

The worst part was she couldn't even run away to hide.

She wasn't allowed that luxury.

Not while she remained here, acting as Airie, until she could be certain Laine found her freedom.

Then...

She could disappear into the countryside, and forget the horrible Prince Donncahd and his horrifying kingdom ever existed.

Or at least...

She could do that as soon as she figured out a safe way to do so.

But it made her feel better to only think about the first part for now, because that one, at least, was only a matter of waiting a little while, and figuring out how to check on Laine's status back in Aurania.

...ugh.

She sighed, pressing her hand to her forehead.

Even being sure Laine would be safe, knowing she'd waited long enough, wasn't as simple as actually just waiting.

It might, in the worst of cases, involve signaling to Airie a threat of self-immolation.

Regardless of whether she particularly wanted to actually do it, it was her only leverage to get the real princess to do her bidding.

A knock sounded at her door, and Rache flinched, pushing off the wall and scrambling to her feet. She took a breath, brushing her hands down the sides of her skirt and moving toward the door.

"Who is it?" She asked, quietly.

"Lunch is being served in the king's garden, my lady. You've been invited to attend."

The term 'invite' was far too gentle and innocent a word for it, she was certain.

An invite would be asking, instead of simply being notified that she'd been 'decided' to be in attendance.

"Understood. I'll be attending momentarily."

There was no response.

She waited a long moment, just in case.

But the man had already apparently gone.

She breathed out, and leaned her head on the door.

Her life, this place, felt like a nightmare.

But it wasn't, was it?

Because if it was, she could have woken up already.

She hadn't been granted anything so merciful as being allowed to wake up from this purgatory.

The door suddenly rapped again, causing her to jump and yelp, on account of her leaning against it.

"Apologies, My Lady." The door opened, revealing another unfamiliar maid standing in the doorway. "I'm here to escort you to the luncheon."

She smiled, and reached her arm out, indicating for Rache to take it.

Rache glanced at the proffered appendage.

...Well.

There wasn't any harm in accepting the gesture, she supposed.

She took the woman's arm and allowed her to lead the way.

She still felt...

Wrong.

Like her body was moving too slow. Too weak. And her head spun from every motion.

She tried not to breathe too deeply, since that made her feel dizzy, and just kept her head up and a firm grip on the maid's arm.

If the maid felt any sort of way about dragging Rache's weight alongside her, she did an excellent job of concealing it.

Once they arrived in the gardens, she released Rache, bowed slightly, and then quickly disappeared as if afraid to linger any longer than absolutely necessary.

Rache didn't blame her for a moment.

Donncahd sat at a long table, red eyes flickering toward her with disinterest.

His father sat at the end, visibly aged, but no less fit than Donncahd himself. His gray-white hair was long and thin, but still elegantly groomed.

He didn't look at her at all.

Instead of that, his gaze was fixed on his food. Not in a gluttonous way, but more...

As if he had no interest in the pet princess that his son had picked up, despite the fact that she was increasingly more certain he was the one to orchestrate the marriage.

Like father, like son, she supposed.

Rache sat down and did her best to look like a normal person as she took a piece of fruit from a platter in front of her, and started nibbling at it.

Donncahd watched her for a long moment. "You managed to make it without collapsing this time."

She pressed her lips together. "I wasn't walked all over the palace to a strange place before coming here this time."

She thought she might have glimpsed the faintest hint of a sort of...

cruel amusement, perhaps?

But if he did have such an expression, it was faint and briefly a flicker before he turned to his food like his father.

"You won't need to worry. Such a blunder won't be repeated in Sidera."

That sounded...

She couldn't tell if it was ominous, or simply insulting.

She didn't believe she had any sort of upper hand here, either, so it was probably a threat.

"...Thank you." She replied finally. "I appreciate the care you're giving me, even with our short acquaintance."

It wasn't anything close to the truth, of course, but...

She was playing Princess Airie, after all.

And while the real Princess Airie was far more ugly in personality than the stories of her claimed, it would not do her favors to mimic the authentic Airie.

So.

She did her best to pretend to be a kind and gentle princess.

One with an affinity for white roses, and a talent for singing - even if it was just for entertaining children.

Something like that, anyway.

She didn't know how long she could keep up that illusion, especially as...

She certainly didn't have the ability to mimic the things Airie would have been trained and taught in.

But the longer she maintained this illusion, the longer she could delay complications that sprung from the ways she didn't match up.

The longer that she could be sure Donncahd wouldn't discover the deception.

The prince stared at her with an unreadable expression.

"I've been told the royal family is immune to the Quickening." He said, finally. "Yet my palace doctor claims you have been struck with it."

She pressed her lips together.

She couldn't dare look at him, so she focused on her fruit.

"It's as I told him. Victims of the Quickening don't recover their health. It can only go downhill."

She was bluffing, of course. Lying. But it was also...true. As far as she knew. The Auranian doctor had claimed it, after all.

It was the only defense she had.

"As you can see, I've recovered from my bout of illness, yes...?" She trailed off, uncertain how she should refer to him.

She could feel his eyes on her.

"So it seems." His voice was carefully controlled. "My congratulations to you on your recovery."

The conversation faded into an uncomfortable silence.

They ate with the occasional interruptions of the servants offering to refill the wine cups.

She wasn't sure what the point of this lunch was...

But it certainly only accomplished being incredibly awkward.

She might have been comforted by that lone similarity to her original life's tendency with brunches....but, well.

She just couldn't quite bring herself to do that.