A Royal Distraction

Elara paced the halls of the palace, her footsteps echoing against the cold marble floors. It was the day before the grand festival, and the palace was buzzing with activity. Servants hurried by with baskets of flowers, decorations, and fabric, while artisans worked in the courtyards. The normally serene atmosphere had been replaced with chaos, and for once, Elara found herself frustrated by it.

Her teachers, the ones who usually kept her busy with lessons in politics, etiquette, and courtly matters, were all busy with the festival preparations. She hadn't had a lesson in days. Her books lay untouched, gathering dust. So, what was a bored princess to do?

With a sigh, Elara leaned against one of the grand windows, watching the workers below. They seemed so focused, moving with purpose as they transformed the palace grounds. She squinted her eyes, watching a group of servants scurrying about in the garden, arranging flowers in intricate patterns.

Curiosity tugged at her. Maybe she could be helpful. After all, she had nothing else to do, and she wasn't about to sit idly by while everyone else worked.

She straightened up and, with newfound determination, made her way toward the garden.

The servants, busy with their own tasks, barely noticed the princess approaching. Elara cleared her throat loudly.

"Excuse me!" she called out, her voice commanding but still carrying a hint of uncertainty. "I—uh—I have decided to help with the preparations! You all must be very busy, and I... I want to assist."

The workers paused, looking at one another in confusion. One of the older women, a stout woman with graying hair, stepped forward, her hands on her hips. "Your Highness, it's kind of you to offer, but—"

"I insist," Elara said, cutting her off. "You'll need all the help you can get. I am ordering you to let me help." She gave them a look that she hoped conveyed authority, though it felt more like she was trying to suppress a laugh.

The woman blinked. "An order, Your Highness?" she asked, clearly taken aback.

"Yes, an order," Elara said, more confidently this time. She felt a strange sense of power at using her royal title like that, though it was tempered by her awkwardness.

After a moment of silence, the woman sighed. "Very well, Princess. But you'll have to stay out of the way of the more delicate work." She gestured toward a pile of flowers.

Elara nodded enthusiastically, happy that her "order" had been taken seriously, and stepped toward the flowers. She bent down, picking up a bouquet of lilies and daisies, but her hands trembled slightly. As she reached for the nearby vases, her fingers brushed against the petals, sending a few flying across the courtyard.

"Oops," she muttered, wincing as the petals scattered.

The workers exchanged amused glances, but no one spoke up. Elara, determined to prove herself, straightened up and tried again, this time gripping the flowers more carefully. Her hands fumbled, and the stems twisted in her grasp, but she managed to arrange the bouquet with a little more grace.

"Not bad," one of the younger servants remarked, though she was careful to keep her tone respectful.

With a deep breath, Elara continued her work. Slowly, the flowers began to form into something more presentable. Her movements became less erratic, more deliberate. It wasn't perfect, but she was making progress.

An hour later, Elara stepped back to inspect her work. The once chaotic flower beds now looked orderly, the bright colors blending beautifully. The workers had moved on to other tasks, and she found herself standing there, looking down at the garden with a proud, albeit slightly exhausted, smile.

"Well, I must admit, that turned out better than expected," she said to no one in particular.

One of the workers, who had been watching from a distance, gave a small chuckle. "Your Highness, you've done a fine job. You should have more confidence in yourself."

Elara's cheeks flushed, though she quickly masked it with a nonchalant shrug. "I suppose I am quite capable when I put my mind to it," she said, her voice softening in a rare moment of humility. "It's just that... sometimes I get a little clumsy."

The older woman nodded approvingly. "Clumsy or not, you've done well today. Perhaps we'll find you more work to do, Your Highness."

Elara smiled brightly, feeling a sense of accomplishment she hadn't expected. As much as she loved her royal duties, it was nice to step away from them and get her hands a little dirty for once.

"Perhaps," she replied, her tone more confident now. "But next time, I'll make sure not to let any petals fly away."

The workers chuckled, and Elara felt a warmth spread through her chest. She stood there for a moment, taking in the praise and feeling the weight of the day's work settling on her shoulders. She hadn't expected to get so caught up in something so simple, but there was something satisfying about it—about helping out and seeing the tangible results of her efforts.

Just as she was about to turn back toward the palace, one of the servants approached her with a hesitant look.

"Your Highness, there's one more thing... If you don't mind." The servant's voice was unsure, almost apologetic.

Elara raised an eyebrow, curious. "What is it?"

The servant hesitated, wringing her hands. "We're short a few people in the kitchen. The staff is stretched thin with the festival preparations, and, well..." She trailed off, as if embarrassed to ask.

Elara's lips curled into a mischievous smile. "You need me to help in the kitchen?"

The servant seemed to cringe slightly. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble..."

Elara grinned, already walking toward the kitchen doors. "Consider it done."

Inside, the kitchen was alive with activity—pots and pans clattered, the heat from the oven was overwhelming, and the smell of fresh bread and roasted meats filled the air. Elara couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed by the chaos, but she wasn't about to back down now.

"Where do you need me?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady as she surveyed the mess of ingredients, cutting boards, and busy cooks.

One of the chefs, a stout man with flour dusted all over his apron, glanced over his shoulder. "We need someone to chop the vegetables, Your Highness. You can start there."

Elara nodded, quickly rolling up her sleeves. She grabbed a knife, looking at the pile of carrots, onions, and potatoes before her. She raised the knife, aiming for the first carrot, but her hand was too shaky. The knife slipped, and the carrot tumbled off the cutting board, rolling across the table.

"Whoops," she muttered, flushing slightly.

The kitchen fell quiet for a brief second before the chef gave a gruff laugh. "It's all right, Your Highness. Happens to the best of us."

Elara gave a small smile in return, bending down to pick up the carrot. This time, she gripped the knife a little more firmly and tried again, her movements more cautious.

At first, the cuts were uneven, the slices too thick or too thin. She had never done this kind of work before, and it showed. The chefs continued their work around her, occasionally casting glances her way, some with amusement, others with concern.

But Elara wasn't ready to give up. She concentrated, focusing on the task before her. Slowly, the rhythm of chopping began to click. The carrots, onions, and potatoes were no longer scattered messes but organized pieces, neatly lined up on the cutting board.

"Look at that," the chef said, his tone more approving now. "You've got it, Princess."

Elara paused for a moment to wipe her brow, sweat beading on her forehead from the heat of the kitchen. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually enjoying this."

The kitchen seemed to lighten at her words, the tension easing just a bit. The cooks, too, seemed more willing to let her continue, no longer viewing her as an awkward distraction but as someone genuinely trying to help.

By the time the meal was ready to be served, Elara had not only chopped vegetables but also helped assemble several platters, set tables, and even folded napkins—tasks that seemed so mundane but carried a sense of accomplishment when done well.

As the last course was plated and the kitchen began to quiet down, the head chef turned to Elara with a proud grin. "You did well, Princess. You'd make a fine cook."

Elara's face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and pride. "I'm glad I could be of help."

As she exited the kitchen, she found herself in a much better mood than when she had entered. The day had started with a sense of boredom and restlessness, but now, with the festival fast approaching and her own small contributions adding up, Elara felt more connected to the people around her.