I turned around slowly.
The Queen stood there, composed as ever, hands folded neatly before her, crown glinting under the candlelight.
Calm. Unmoved. Terrifyingly maternal.
Liana, think! My brain scrambled for survival.
Then...click.
I dropped the vase ever so gently, pasted on the sweetest smile I could manage and practically skipped toward her.
"Mother," I said softly, wrapping my arms around her waist.
The maids gasped. Somewhere behind me, Maris inhaled sharply.
I leaned in, resting my cheek against the Queen's shoulder, then tilted my face up with what I hoped was peak adorable vulnerability.
"I don't feel very well," I murmured. "And weddings are… very stressful. Stress damages brain cells, you know." I pouted. Hard.
"You wouldn't want that to happen to your precious daughter, right?"
I blinked. Once. Twice.
The Queen's lips curved...just slightly. I almost thought she bought it.
She lifted a hand and patted my head, slow and deliberate. "Poor child," she said gently.
"Yet 'tis for the good of thy kingdom. Thou must wed the crowned Prince."
My smile froze. My hopes totally shattered.
She stepped back, slipping neatly out of my arms, and turned her gaze toward Maris.
A single nod. That was all it took.
Oh no! My brain screamed.
And the maids set into motion.
"Wait, WAIT...can we discuss this like emotionally stable adults?!" I protested as hands closed around my arms.
But she was gone. Gone without a backward glance.
They guided...no, shoved me toward the bathing tub.
"This is oppression!" I yelped. "This is how revolutions start!"
Warm water splashed. Brushes scrubbed. Oils poured. My complaints dissolved into steam and lavender-scented humiliation.
As they worked, I heard voices, feminine voices drifting faintly through the chamber walls.
"Poor princess…a fortnight asleep, only to wake to this…" A voice said. "I would wish not such a fate upon any woman."
Another voice lowered, hushed but sharp.
"They say the Prince is ruthless. Cold as winter steel."
"Aye. Arrogant. Unforgiving."
"Ne'er imagined her life bound to such a man."
My eyes snapped open. Ruthless?
The brushes paused as I stiffened in the tub.
Arrogant?
He didn't seem arrogant back at the garden, or was it all pretense? I thought inwardly.
My eyes met Maris's and she looked away guiltily.
My thoughts kept spiraling. Why would the royal household give their daughter to someone like that in marriage? I mean, seriously? What's the deal on this?
After long hours of scrubbing me like I'd fallen into a pit, I was guided out and SHOVED again, into the wardrobe section.
I saw maids walking in with trays and my stomach did a little happy dance.
Finally, food!
Spoiler alert: It contained clothes, and jewelries, and pearls, and every other thing that was sure to choke me before I arrive at the altar.
I glared at the clothes like they had personally offended me, muttering something about jumping out of the window if I lived on the lower floor.
"My lady," Maris whispered, her voice urgent as she draped a cream-colored gown across my lap. "This must be worn. 'Tis the garb of thine union."
I stared at the embroidery, gold threads curling into endless patterns. Beautiful? Yes. Breathable? Absolutely not.
"Maris, this thing weighs like fifty pounds. How do you expect me to...oh my there are layers?"
She didn't answer, just shoved me behind a screen while two other maids swarmed in. Within minutes, I was being poked, cinched, and laced into oblivion.
My ribs felt like they were being crushed in a vice.
"Stand still, my lady," Marin hissed as I swayed.
"How about letting me breathe, then I might consider that. Like seriously, Who even invented corsets? I'd like a word!" I snapped back.
They ignored me as usual guiding me towards the dressing table where my hair was almost pulled out of it's roots.
Makeup was a whole new level of torture but I sat through it all.
Maris did the finishing touches, pinning a veil into my hair.
I stared at my reflection in the polished bronze mirror.
Jewels glimmered across my head like a crown,My cheeks were flushed, my eyes wide, my lips painted the faintest rose.
Maris clasped my hands, her own trembling slightly. "You must be brave, Princess. All the realm awaits thee."
"About the prince..." I began.
Then the trumpets sounded again, louder this time, shaking the chamber doors.
Maris bowed slightly. "They call for thee."
I watched her for a while before walking towards the door.
From the corner of my eye, I saw her heave a quiet sigh.
"Well Ioana," I muttered. "Whoever it is you're getting married to, he'd better not be allergic to sarcasm."