Chapter 141: Throwing weights.

The room remained quiet after the attendant had departed, leaving Rosaline standing beside the bed with her eyes fixed on the elaborate furnishings surrounding her. The last conversation she had shared with Xandros still lingered in her mind, particularly the simple way he had dismissed her gratitude, as though protecting her from Queen Vivienne had been the most ordinary thing in the world. She had thanked him, and he had accepted it without making her feel indebted to him. Yet, despite that small exchange, they had hardly spoken since their journey through the forest, and the awkward silence between them had followed them all the way into the palace.

Xandros stood near the window, loosening the fastening around his wrist while studying the view outside. The late afternoon sunlight had begun to fade, casting long shadows across the gardens below. From their room, he could see a portion of the palace grounds, where servants hurried along the paved pathways, carrying flowers, polished silverware, and trays of food in preparation for the royal dinner. Everything appeared to be moving according to a carefully rehearsed arrangement, as though the palace itself had been waiting for their arrival before resuming its usual activities.

Rosaline glanced in his direction once before turning away. There was no reason to speak simply for the sake of filling the silence, especially when neither of them had made any effort to address what had happened between them earlier in the journey. She was still embarrassed by the incident at the river, and although she had begun to appreciate the little things he did for her, she had no intention of making that obvious. Besides, she was not even certain what she was supposed to say to a man who could rescue her from a river, saw her bareness and said nothing, and then send her a pastry the following morning without offering a single explanation.

The thought brought an unwilling flicker of warmth to her face.

She quickly suppressed it.

A gentle knock sounded at the door, drawing her attention away from her thoughts. Before either of them could respond, a servant’s voice came from the other side, politely informing them that the Queen had arranged for attendants to assist the Duchess in preparing for the royal dinner.

Xandros turned from the window. "Come in."

The door opened, and two young maids entered with several garments carefully folded over their arms. Behind them stood a woman whose appearance immediately distinguished her from the others. She was dressed in an elegant dark-blue uniform trimmed with silver, her hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head. A small golden brooch bearing the royal crest of Everbloom was fastened near her collar, announcing her position before she even opened her mouth.

She surveyed the room with the confidence of someone accustomed to being obeyed, then turned toward Rosaline with a practised smile.

"Your Grace, Her Majesty the Queen has made arrangements for your preparations before dinner. She has selected a gown for you and instructed us to ensure that everything is ready in time."

Rosaline looked at the garments in the maids’ arms before returning her attention to the woman. "Very well."

The woman bowed slightly, though the movement seemed more like an obligation than a genuine gesture of respect. Her eyes then shifted toward the doorway, and she frowned when she failed to find someone she had evidently expected to see.

"Where is Lily?" she asked the other maids.

One of them immediately lowered her head. "She should be in the servants’ quarters, Mistress Evelyne."

Evelyne’s expression tightened.

"Then why is she not here already? Does she intend to make me search the entire palace for her?" She turned sharply toward the door. "Go and fetch her. Tell her that it is time she remembered her duties."

One of the maids hurried away.

Meanwhile, farther down the corridor, Christophine was standing beside a narrow table laden with freshly washed linen, pretending to examine the folded sheets while listening to the conversations passing around her. Since entering the palace, she had been forced to endure a succession of tedious instructions, insufferable glances, and servants who seemed convinced that anyone wearing a maid’s uniform existed solely to receive orders. It was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain her disguise without reminding someone of precisely how little patience she possessed for their nonsense.

She had just decided that she would rather spend the evening locked inside a storage room than listen to another servant boast about the Queen’s generosity when a familiar voice reached her ears.

"Lily!"

Christophine closed her eyes briefly.

Of course.

She turned her head slowly.

A woman was approaching her with quick, irritated steps, her chin raised and her hands clasped before her. Christophine recognised her as the same maid who had accompanied the royal attendants earlier. The woman stopped in front of her and looked her up and down as though she had discovered an insect crawling across an expensive carpet.

"There you are," she announced. "What are you doing standing around when there is work to be done?"

Christophine said nothing immediately. Instead, she regarded the woman with a calm, searching look that seemed to unsettle her more than an outright insult would have done.

Evelyne’s brows drew together.

"What is that expression for?"

Christophine blinked innocently. "What expression?"

"Do not play games with me, girl." Evelyne stepped closer, apparently determined to establish her authority before the other servants began to notice the exchange. "You have been summoned to assist Duchess Rosaline in preparing for the royal dinner. Her Majesty has personally arranged for you to attend her, and yet you are here wasting time. Have you forgotten your place?"

For a moment, Christophine considered the many things she could say in response. Several were particularly satisfying, and at least two involved explaining exactly what she thought of Evelyne’s position in the palace. Unfortunately, none of them would be appropriate for a girl who was supposed to be Lily, the quiet maid who had previously spent her days carrying out instructions without complaint.

She drew a slow breath.

"Yes, Mistress Evelyne. I will go and attend to Her Grace."

The answer should have been enough, but Evelyne appeared dissatisfied by the lack of fear in her voice. She had expected Lily to lower her head, apologise repeatedly, and perhaps tremble a little beneath the weight of her displeasure. Instead, the girl stood before her with a composure that felt almost insulting.

Evelyne’s eyes narrowed.

"And you will not walk ahead of me as though you have suddenly become someone important. I shall accompany you. I want to see for myself that you understand what you are expected to do."

Christophine stared at her.

You want to accompany me?

Her fingers curled briefly at her sides.

How unfortunate for you.

She remembered why she was there. She remembered Rosaline, the strange palace, and the fact that one careless mistake could expose far more than her identity. With considerable effort, she relaxed her hands and inclined her head.

"As you wish."

Evelyne turned and began walking, evidently satisfied that she had finally put the girl in her place. Christophine followed, maintaining a measured distance behind her while silently reconsidering the many unpleasant possibilities that had presented themselves since their arrival in Everbloom.

The woman was going to become a problem.

A very irritating problem.

They had barely reached the next corridor when Evelyne began lecturing her about the proper way to address the royal family, the importance of maintaining a respectful expression, and the shame that would befall the servants if the Duchess found their conduct unsatisfactory.

Christophine listened without responding, though her eyes occasionally drifted toward the elaborate paintings hanging along the walls. She was far more interested in the history hidden behind those portraits than in Evelyne’s opinion of her posture.

Unfortunately, Evelyne interpreted her silence as inattentiveness.

"Are you listening to me, Lily?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Then look where you are going!"

Christophine turned her eyes forward.

At that precise moment, Evelyne stepped onto the edge of a small decorative rug that had curled slightly beneath the weight of a nearby table. Her heel caught against the uneven fabric, and she lurched forward with a startled gasp.

Christophine noticed the movement immediately.

She could have caught her.

Indeed, she could have prevented the woman from falling with so little effort that Evelyne might never have realised she had stumbled. But Christophine was not particularly interested in saving someone who had spent the past several minutes treating her as though she were less than human.

She shifted one foot.

It was a small movement, almost imperceptible, accompanied by a subtle adjustment of her hand as Evelyne reached instinctively for something to steady herself against. The older maid missed the table’s edge, stumbled over her own feet, and landed heavily on the polished floor.

The sharp sound of the fall echoed through the corridor.

For one glorious moment, Christophine stood perfectly still.

Then the maids following behind them rushed forward.

"Mistress Evelyne!"

"Are you hurt?"

"Please, let me help you!"

They gathered around her in a flurry of anxious movements, one supporting her arm while another attempted to brush the dust from her uniform. Evelyne’s face had turned an alarming shade of red, and the expression she wore suggested that she would have preferred to fall down a flight of stairs rather than suffer such humiliation in front of her subordinates.

Christophine lowered her gaze, concealing the satisfaction threatening to betray her.

"Are you all right, Mistress?" she asked, her voice carrying precisely the right amount of concern.

Evelyne’s head snapped toward her.

For a moment, the woman’s expression was so furious that Christophine almost admired it. There was no doubt that she suspected something, but the other maids were standing too close, and the corridor was too public for her to unleash the full force of her anger.

"Get up!" Evelyne barked at the women surrounding her. "All of you, leave me alone!"

The maids immediately withdrew a few steps, exchanging uncertain glances.

Evelyne pushed herself upright, straightened her uniform, and glared at Christophine as though she intended to commit her face to memory.

"You," she snapped. "Walk in front of me."

Christophine tilted her head. "Mistress?"

"You heard me. Walk ahead. I do not want you following behind me."

There was a pause.

Then Christophine bowed her head obediently.

"As you wish."

She stepped forward, concealing a smile that would have made Evelyne’s humiliation complete had the woman seen it.

Keep talking, she thought as she continued down the corridor. The more you do, the more tempting it becomes to forget that I am supposed to be pretending to be someone else.

Behind her, Evelyne muttered something under her breath before turning on the other maids.

"Go back to your duties! Do you have nothing better to do than stand there staring at me?"

The women scattered immediately.

Christophine continued walking, her expression composed, though her patience had been worn thin. She had dealt with arrogant nobles, troublesome guards, and people who believed their titles gave them permission to treat everyone around them as disposable. Evelyne was hardly the most formidable person she had encountered, but there was something uniquely irritating about the woman’s determination to make herself important at every opportunity.

By the time they reached the chamber assigned to Rosaline and Xandros, Christophine had already decided that she would avoid being alone with the Queen’s maid whenever possible.

Evelyne raised her hand and knocked.