Our self-imposed exile proved brief. Rascal, undeterred by the confines of our sanctuary, discovered us with surprising speed, crawling on all fours beneath the table. She conveyed my brother’s summons, mentioning that he had been searching for Princess since the morning. Rascal added, with a touch of playful reproach, that our chosen hiding spot had been a poor selection. She claimed, with a knowing grin, that she could reveal far superior locations if we ever truly wished to remain undisturbed.
Kyolhan’s call was urgent, yet we spared a moment for a brief exchange regarding the events that had transpired in the corridor leading to the dining room. Rascal eagerly recounted the conversations she had overheard, summarizing the whispers within my father’s court. The courtly talk centered on the notion that ‘The Prettiest Flower in Irghumin’ might soon be dethroned by her very own model, should she fail to tread carefully in the coming year. Princess, incensed by the comparison, retorted with cruel jabs at Rascal’s diminutive stature and petite frame before storming off in a huff.
Upon arriving at my brother’s chambers—the same location that had hosted our previous meetings—we found him waiting with an air of urgency. He welcomed us inside, gesturing for us to sit before him once more, this time near the warmth of a crackling fire. In his hands were the papers we had labored over throughout the night. An easy smile graced his jovial countenance as he greeted us.
“These are fantastic!” he exclaimed, referring to the papers. “How long have you had these? The poor fellow must have taken an eternity to write this much. He should have enlisted a scribe to assist him.” His words alluded to a suggestion I had denied once before, when Kyolhan had once requested that I compose an essay on local alchemical practices to impress a visiting guest.
My brother’s praise of my writing stemmed more from its sentimental value than its literary merit. His words, however, touched me deeply. He spoke of my arduous existence with such warmth, calling me brave for enduring it for so long, and expressed his admiration for the expertise I had gained despite my afflictions. The depth of his affection, the sincerity with which he cherished me, moved me to tears—tears that glistened in Princess’s eyes. Her sorrow at Kyolhan’s yearning to see me one last time intertwined with my own, and together, our shared grief overwhelmed her. Though my brother was far too proud to weep alongside her, the tremor in his voice betrayed his inner turmoil.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“You three really did love him, didn’t you?” Kyolhan wondered, the certainty of the answer shimmering in his vivid eyes. “He also loved you, I can assure you. Among all the papers you gave me, there were more than stories and jokes. Aufelia, you meant so much to my brother; you and your sisters. I thought you two didn’t get along, but… it was not like that at all. You two had a special kind of friendship and trust for one another, one he did not have with anyone else. There is… more I would like to say, and you will hear about it when it becomes pertinent. Dubart left you girls a little something.”
“I apologize for losing my composure like that….” Princess sniffled, wiping her tears with a freshly offered handkerchief. It was understandable; the weight of our combined emotions was too much for a single heart to bear.
“Don’t be. Don’t ever be ashamed of it; you three are basically family. I know Dubart thought so, too. You may have been treated sometimes like servants, but you were… you are more than that. How about we move to something happier, huh?” he changed topics and his expression quite suddenly. “How do you like it where I placed your painting? Pretty nice place, isn’t it? I’m hearing you’re getting a little famous; Rascal, too. People are already bugging me to have you arrange meetings with them. Who knew you were such a talented paintress?”
“I thank you for your kind words, Master Kyolhan,” Princess seized the chance to recover, despite already being tired of hearing compliments for me.
“I also heard you were trying to paint a maid nude, you silly Princess, you,” Kyolhan smiled impishly. He had the luxury of calling Aufelia by her nickname when they were in the privacy of his office.
“Oh, well. Y-you see, Master Kyolhan, r-regarding that…” Princess stuttered and stammered, taken aback by the sudden change in atmosphere and the playful accusation.
“Nah, don’t you fret. Confred was grumbling, but you know how he is,” Kyolhan replied with a dismissive shrug and a complacent smirk. “As far as I am concerned, our servants are your servants. Asking them to undress is… well, let us say it is a bit unorthodox, but since you are both women and no one was touched, I suppose it is fine this time. Don’t worry—you are not going to be lacking models in the near future, from what I hear.” He rose from his seat, signaling that the conversation was drawing to a close. Princess followed suit. “Just do not push your luck with the servants again, and we’ll be fine, alright? Dubart left me a note, asking me to think of you as a sister, so I shall. That means I have the right to punish you, too. So, tread carefully, Princess. Now, go out there and face your audience. I know you have been hiding. Don’t be shy; it doesn’t suit you.”
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