From Maid to Crown Princess

When a messenger from the Crown Prince's residence arrived, I was kneeling on the floor painting a fan for Marianne Vale.

Clara came running in with the news, her whole face lit up.

"My lady, His Highness sent word.

"That poem you gave him last time was exceptional. He invites you to go boating on a lake west of the city today."

Marianne sprang upright.

"Tell him I'll be there."

Then she nudged my arm with the tip of her shoe.

"At least you're useful for something."

I lowered my eyes.

Hatred burned beneath my lashes.

We shared the same father. Yet Marianne lived as the Chancellor's cherished daughter while I served her like a maid, simply because my mother had been his mistress.

In my previous life, I obeyed Marianne in everything. I wrote her poems. Composed songs for her. Made her famous throughout the capita.

And helped her become Crown Princess.

Then she repaid me with a cup of poisoned wine.

Looking at her face again, all I wanted was to wrap my hands around her throat.

Instead, I stayed still.

Marianne tossed a veil at me.

"Wear this when we go.

"If His Highness suddenly asks me to compose something, stay close and feed me the lines."

I bowed meekly.

"Yes, my lady."

By the time we reached the lake, Crown Prince Adrian was already waiting.

He stood on the deck of an elegant pleasure boat in a pale silver robe, hands clasped behind his back.

Marianne stared so hard she nearly missed the step onto the boat. I caught her arm before she embarrassed herself.

"Careful, Lady Vale."

Adrian offered a courteous hand. His voice was gentle.

Her face instantly turned pink.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

After a few cups of tea, Adrian looked out over the glittering water. His mood seemed unusually good.

"I've heard a great deal about your gift for verse.

"With the spring this beautiful, perhaps you'd compose something for us?"

Marianne's fingers stiffened around her teacup.

She set it down and pretended to dab at her lips with a handkerchief. Then she shot me a quick look.

In my previous life, that had been my cue.

This time, I stepped forward before she could signal again.

"Your Highness, my lady caught a chill a few days ago.

"Her throat's been troubling her since."

Marianne glared at me for speaking without permission.

Adrian looked me over.

"Why is your maid wearing a veil?"

Marianne's smile tightened.

"She has scars on her face.

"I was afraid they might offend Your Highness."

Then she snapped at me:

"Stand back."

I retreated obediently.

And gave Marianne no help at all.

Adrian spoke a line about the water and the hills beyond it, then asked what she thought of it.

Marianne stumbled through a few vague phrases. The longer she spoke, the more obvious it became that she had no idea what she was saying. Sweat appeared along her hairline.

Adrian, apparently still unaware of how badly she was floundering, smiled.

"If your throat's uncomfortable, perhaps we could write a verse together instead. You take every second line."

He set pen to paper.

The lake lies bright beneath a clearing sky.

Then he pushed the page toward her.

"Lady Vale. Your turn."