Chapter Four

CROWN PRINCESS'S QUARTERS

EASTERN WING, IMPERIAL PALACE

"They cannot be serious!"

Rosalie lifted the bowl of porridge and looked at it as though it had personally offended her.

"Your Highness, this is what they sent you?"

Seraphine glanced at the tray.

"What is wrong with it?"

Rosalie looked at her in disbelief.

"What is wrong with it?"

She placed the bowl back down with slightly more force than necessary.

"Everything."

Seraphine's eyes moved over the meal.

There was a bowl of plain rice porridge, a small serving of steamed vegetables, a few slices of meat and nothing else.

"Is this not enough?" she asked.

Rosalie's mouth fell open.

"Enough?"

She pointed accusingly at the tray.

"Your Highness, you nearly drowned last night. You lost blood, struck your head and have been unconscious since then. And this is what they send you?"

She shook her head furiously.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think they were feeding an ordinary servant."

Seraphine picked up the small piece of meat with her fork.

It was a decent cut, but there was barely enough to constitute a meal. The porridge was watery,

the vegetables were few, and there was neither soup nor fruit.

Nothing particularly nourishing for someone recovering from an injury.

For a soldier like her, the meal was acceptable.

For a Crown Princess, however, it was pathetic.

"How long has this been happening?" she asked.

Rosalie folded her arms.

"I can't say exactly. But it's been happening more often since His Highness's condition worsened."

Seraphine looked up.

"The Crown Prince?"

Rosalie nodded.

"His Highness hardly leaves his quarters. Everyone knows it."

Her expression soured.

"And because no one expects him to inspect anything himself, they have become careless."

"Careless?"

Rosalie pointed at the tray again.

"They send small portions every time. Sometimes food arrives cold. There have even been days when things that were supposed to be included simply weren't."

Seraphine fell silent.

"Does the Crown Prince know?"

Rosalie gave a helpless shrug.

"How would he?"

Seraphine considered that for a moment before asking,

"Who oversees the kitchen?"

"The kitchen supervisor."

"Who oversees the supervisor?"

Rosalie frowned.

"Steward Marius, I believe. He is the palace steward."

Seraphine nodded slowly.

"And who records the provisions delivered here?"

Rosalie blinked. "I don't know."

"Who records what leaves the kitchen?"

"I..." Rosalie frowned harder. "I think the kitchen clerks do."

"Where are those records kept?"

Rosalie stared at her for a moment before slowly shaking her head.

"I've never had to look at them."

Seraphine's gaze returned to the tray.

That was precisely the problem.

She had no interest in arguing with kitchen servants.

She wanted to know what was supposed to be here in the first place.

If the palace kitchens were truly being given poor provisions, that was one matter.

If they were receiving generous provisions and sending something else to the Crown Princess's table, that was another.

"Who keeps the records for the palace itself?"

Rosalie thought for a moment.

"There should be someone in the Palace Provision Office."

"Provision Office?"

"They handle the allocations for the imperial households. Food, fuel, clothing materials, sometimes medicine and other supplies."

Seraphine's eyes sharpened slightly.

"Do they keep records of what each palace receives?"

Rosalie nodded.

"I believe so."

"And who oversees the distribution between the different palace quarters?"

Rosalie's expression became uncertain.

"There is another office for that. The Imperial Household Administration."

Seraphine leaned back against the pillows.

"Good."

Rosalie looked at her in confusion.

Seraphine ignored the look.

"How far is the Provision Office?"

Rosalie immediately understood.

Her eyes widened.

"Your Highness..."

"I want all records concerning the provisions assigned to these quarters."

Rosalie stared at her.

"Why?"

"Because I want to know what we're supposed to be receiving."

Rosalie glanced at the meal, then back at Seraphine.

A slow understanding appeared on her face.

"You think they're taking things meant for you?"

"I don't know."

Seraphine picked up her spoon.

"That's why I want the records."

Rosalie's anger returned.

"Then let me go there."

She straightened.

"I've tolerated them long enough. They have been taking advantage of His Highness's illness since you married, and now they dare send this to you when you're recovering?"

She turned toward the door.

"I'll give them a piece of my mind."

"Rosalie."

The maid stopped.

Seraphine's voice remained calm.

"Don't confront them."

Rosalie turned around, clearly disgruntled.

"But—"

"Ask for the records."

Rosalie looked doubtful.

"And if they refuse?"

Seraphine met her eyes.

"Then there are other ways to obtain them."

Rosalie stared at her for a moment.

Something about her mistress seemed different. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

Still, she nodded.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Also bring me clean parchment, ink and writing brushes."

Rosalie nodded again.

"Anything else?"

"No."

She turned to leave and the door closed behind her.

Seraphine looked down at the meal once more.

She picked up the spoon and took another mouthful. It was bland, but edible.

She finished what little she could of the meal before setting the bowl aside.

Her body was already beginning to protest.

Her muscles felt weak, her head carried a dull ache, and the wound at the back of her skull pulled whenever she moved too quickly.

She would have to get used to this body.

The thought alone irritated her.

Seraphine pushed the blankets aside and slowly lowered her feet to the floor.

The moment she stood, her knees nearly gave way.

She caught herself against the bedpost and her brows furrowed.

This body was far weaker than she had anticipated.

She waited until the dizziness passed before taking another step.

The room suddenly seemed much larger than it had from the bed.

Her gaze settled on the wardrobe.

If she intended to leave these quarters, she couldn't do so looking as though she had just crawled out of a sickbed.

She opened the nearest cabinet. Inside were several folded gowns arranged neatly by color.

Seraphine stared at them.

She had worn armor for most of her adult life. These clothes seemed unnecessarily complicated.

Still, she selected a dark blue gown with modest embroidery along the sleeves. It was elegant without being overly elaborate.

Getting dressed proved more difficult than expected.

The layers were unfamiliar, and the fabric seemed determined to catch around her feet. By the time she finished, she was already irritated.

Her hair presented another problem.

She managed to comb it herself, though she abandoned any attempt at an elaborate style and simply tied the long strands back.

She had barely finished when the door opened.

Rosalie stepped inside.

Then she stopped short and her eyes widened.

"Your Highness."

Seraphine looked at her.

"What?"

"You should have waited for me."

Rosalie hurried toward her.

"I could have helped you dress."

"I'm dressed."

"I can see that."

Rosalie looked her over from head to toe.

"You nearly drowned yesterday."

"I'm aware."

Rosalie sighed.

"Yet somehow you've managed to get yourself dressed without me."

Seraphine ignored the complaint.

Instead, her attention went to the stack of records in Rosalie's arms.

"You got them."

Rosalie's expression immediately brightened.

"Most of them."

She placed the documents carefully on the table.

"I separated them as best as I could."

Seraphine walked toward the table.

Rosalie pointed to the first stack.

"These are the records from the Provision Office concerning the Eastern Palace."

She moved to the second.

"These are the kitchen records for this household."

Then she placed another smaller stack beside them.

"And these are from the Imperial Household Administration. They include the allocations for His Highness's quarters."

Seraphine looked at the neatly divided stacks.

"You separated them?”

Rosalie nodded.

"I thought it would make things easier."

"It does."

The simple praise seemed to surprise her.

Rosalie smiled faintly.

"I wasn't sure whether you'd want them all mixed together."

"You did well."

Rosalie's smile widened. "I brought these too."

She placed a bundle of clean parchment, several ink pots and writing brushes beside the papers.

Seraphine nodded.

"Thank you."

Rosalie looked at the enormous stack of papers curiously.

"What are you going to do with all of these?"

"Read them."

Rosalie looked flabbergasted.

"All of them?"

"Yes."

Seraphine pulled out the chair.

Rosalie stared at her for a moment before glancing toward the door.

"I suppose I should stay and help."

"No."

Rosalie looked back.

"You should go," Seraphine continued.

"Go where?"

"Anywhere you intended to go before they brought breakfast."

Rosalie frowned.

"But—"

"I'll call you if I need anything."

Rosalie hesitated.

She clearly didn't like the idea of leaving Seraphine alone, but eventually she nodded.

"Very well."

She turned toward the door, then stopped.

"Your Highness?"

"Hm?"

"Don't sit too long."

Seraphine looked at her.

Rosalie pointed toward the back of her head.

"Your wound."

Seraphine almost smiled.

"I won't."

Rosalie finally left and the room became quiet.

Seraphine sat down and pulled the first stack toward her.

The first page contained the provisions allocated to the Eastern Palace for the previous week.

Her eyes moved down the list containing rice, wheat, fresh vegetables, meat, tea and many more. The quantities were far more generous than the meal she had just been served.

She reached for the second stack and compared the figures.

Her expression remained calm as she read, but her eyes gradually sharpened.

She reached for another page yet the same pattern appeared.

The provisions allocated to the Crown Prince's household were considerably greater than what the kitchen claimed to have been distributed.

Seraphine picked up her brush.

For the first time since waking in this strange body, a familiar feeling settled over her.

***

A couple of hours later, a quiet knock came at the door.

Seraphine looked up.

"Come in."

Rosalie entered.

She stopped when she saw the papers covering the table.

"Your Highness..."

Seraphine glanced at her.

"You're back."

Rosalie walked closer.

"I finished what I needed to do."

Her eyes fell on the parchment, the stacks of records, and then back at Seraphine.

"You actually read all of that?"

"Most of it."

Rosalie picked up one of the pages.

She recognized several figures but clearly didn't understand what they meant.

"What does it mean?"

Seraphine didn't answer immediately.

Instead, she gathered several pages and arranged them into a single pile.

"The Crown Prince's household receives more provisions than we are being given."

Rosalie's eyes widened.

"What?"

"Look."

Seraphine pointed to the figures.

"The Provision Office records what is sent here. The kitchen records what is distributed. There is a significant difference."

Rosalie's expression slowly changed.

"They've been taking it?"

"I believe so."

Rosalie stared at the pages, then looked toward the door.

"Should I go back?"

"No."

"But—"

"We don't know who is involved yet."

Rosalie fell silent.

Seraphine gathered the papers carefully.

"We won't accuse anyone without solid evidence."

Rosalie nodded reluctantly. Then her gaze fell on Seraphine's notes.

"You wrote all of this yourself?"

"Yes."

Rosalie's expression softened with surprise.

"I didn't know you were so good with numbers."

Seraphine paused.

Neither did the woman whose body she now inhabited, apparently.

She simply gave a faint smile.

"I have my uses."

Rosalie smiled despite herself.

Then she looked at the records again.

"What are you going to do with them?"

Seraphine didn't respond immediately. She gathered the papers into a neat stack and stood.

Rosalie immediately moved forward.

"Your Highness?"

Seraphine straightened the sleeve of her gown.

"Let's visit the Crown Prince's quarters."

Rosalie froze.

"The Crown Prince?"

"Yes."

"But..."

She looked genuinely stunned.

"You haven't visited His Highness once since your wedding."

"I know."

"Then why now?"

Seraphine walked past her.

"Because I have business with him."

Rosalie hurried after her.

"Your Highness, perhaps you should rest first."

"I've rested enough."

Rosalie clearly didn't understand why she suddenly wanted to visit the Crown Prince.

But she followed anyway.

***

The Crown Prince's quarters were located on the opposite side of the Eastern Palace.

It wasn't a long walk.

Yet by the time they arrived, Seraphine had already noticed several things.

The servants they passed kept their heads lowered.

No one stopped them.

But no one greeted the Crown Princess either.

Seraphine said nothing and simply noted it.

When they finally reached the entrance to the Crown Prince's residence, the atmosphere changed.

The corridor was noticeably quieter than hers and a faint medicinal scent of bitter herbs and incense lingered in the air. The closer they got, the stronger it became.

Seraphine's brows drew together slightly.

Rosalie lowered her voice.

"His Highness is usually resting at this hour."

Seraphine glanced at her.

"Usually?"

Rosalie nodded.

"He tires easily."

That was what everyone said.

The Crown Prince was sickly, rarely left his quarters and spent most of his days confined to his bed.

Seraphine had heard enough of it already.

They soon reached the main entrance.

A palace attendant immediately stepped forward.

His expression changed when he saw Seraphine, and he bowed.

"Your Highness."

Seraphine stopped in front of him.

"I wish to see the Crown Prince."

The attendant looked as though he hadn't expected that.

He hesitated.

"His Highness is..."

He glanced toward the inner chambers.

"...not presently available."

Seraphine's eyes narrowed.

"Where is he?"

The attendant lowered his head.

"I am afraid I do not know."

Interesting.

Seraphine studied him for a moment.

"Then I will wait."

The man hesitated again.

Rosalie looked at Seraphine in surprise, clearly not expecting her to insist after being turned away.

The attendant seemed unwilling to comply, but he couldn't stop her without a reason.

Eventually, he stepped aside.

"Of course, Your Highness.”

He turned to another servant.

"Prepare the Crown Prince's study."

Seraphine followed him inside.

Her gaze moved slowly across the residence.

The medicinal scent was stronger inside.

A brazier burned continuously in one corner, while bundles of dried herbs hung from wooden racks. Several medicine bowls sat on a tray, some freshly used.

A thick wool blanket had been folded over the back of a chair despite the warmth of the room. A screen had also been positioned near the bed, presumably to shield the Crown Prince from drafts.

Everything about the place spoke of illness.

Seraphine walked farther inside, glancing toward the closed inner doors before looking at the medicine cabinet.

Then she turned to the attendant.

"Where is his study?"

"I will lead you there."

He opened another door.

"This way, Your Highness."

The study was larger than she'd expected.

A dark wooden writing desk sat near the window, while two bookshelves covered most of the walls. Several scrolls were stacked neatly beside an inkstone.

Unlike the rest of the residence, there was little medicine here.

The attendant bowed.

"I shall inform you when His Highness returns."

Seraphine nodded.

Rosalie remained on a sofa near the doorway.

"Wait here," Seraphine told her.

It was one thing for her to intrude upon his private space.

It would be another for her maid to do the same without permission.

Seraphine stood alone in the study, her gaze slowly sweeping across the room.

So this was the Crown Prince's private study.

She walked toward the desk first.

Nothing seemed unusual except for the books on military strategy.

He must like military strategy.

It was a pity he probably wasn't fortunate enough to put much of it to use because of his weak health.

She then turned toward the bookshelves instead, and her fingers moved along the book spines. There were books on politics, history, military strategy, philosophy and various other subjects.

If this man truly spent his days confined to his chambers, there should be little reason for such an extensive collection of military and political texts.

But perhaps he simply liked to read.

Then she noticed a narrow gap between two rows of books.

Seraphine reached toward it.

A bundle of papers had been pushed farther back. She pulled one out and her eyes immediately narrowed.

It was sealed correspondence.

She turned it over but there was no name or indication of its sender.

Seraphine's fingers tightened slightly around the document.

Why would the Crown Prince hide correspondence in his study?

She was still examining it when the door suddenly swung open.

Seraphine instinctively turned.

She hadn't heard footsteps.

A man's voice drifted in as he stepped into the room.

"And tell the physician to come now—"

Then he saw her, and his voice faltered.

The Crown Prince stood in the doorway.

His hair was wet.

Water droplets ran from the ends of his dark hair and disappeared along his bare shoulders.

He wore only loose black trousers, with his outer robe hanging partially from one arm as though he'd been in the middle of putting it on.

For several seconds, neither of them moved.

Seraphine stared.

The Crown Prince stared back.

Neither had expected to find the other there.

For the first time since she had awakened in this palace, Seraphine was momentarily at a loss.