Evelyn stirred awake, the remnants of the red-haired woman's dream dissolving like mist. Ruth's familiar bustling figure greeted her, as ever, but the sight of the untouched bed beside her drew a wry chuckle from Evelyn's lips.
Ruth paused mid-motion, hands deftly adjusting the laces of Evelyn's gown. "What's so amusing?" She asked, eyebrows arched.
Evelyn tilted her head, watching sunlight pool across the vacant sheets. "I used to think becoming crown princess would transform my life entirely—grander, harder, fiercer. But really, it's all the same. Just a larger bedchamber, gilded like a cage."
Ruth's lips pursed as she followed Evelyn's gaze to the cold expanse of the bed. "I don't see how you can laugh. Prince Werner hasn't returned for days. Military affairs with Marquis Edwards, they claim—" She leaned in, voice dropping to a hiss. "—when everyone knows he's been hanging out with Tanya every day. That bitch spends every hour scheming to claw her way into your place."
Evelyn reached out, pinching Ruth's cheek with featherlight reproach. "Hush. That tongue of yours will be the death of us." She whispered: "Here, even the walls have ears. Every servant, every shadow—someone's pawn. We tread on knives, Ruth. Never forget."
Ruth's shoulders slumped as she stared at her lap. "I just want better for you, my Lady." She murmured, fingers twisting in her apron. "You deserve a husband who treasures you, who builds a proper life with you. After all you've endured..."
Evelyn's lips curved into a gentle smile as she guided Ruth to sit beside her on the velvet settee. "But look at the freedom we've gained." She countered, her voice warm with reassurance.
"No more strained performances of marital bliss, no daily endurance of Cassie's poisoned honey words. Isn't this peace worth its price?Come on, help me dress,we are going to be late to Sister Grace's class. "
Ruth accepted the brush with a resigned sigh, her movements slow as she began working through Evelyn's chestnut locks. Her fingers hesitated when they reached the telltale crimson strands at the roots, she said :"Your hair grows so fast, my lady, it needs to be dyed again."
When Evelyn and her party arrived at the Dojo as promised, Grace was already waiting at the entrance with her maid.
Seeing Evelyn approaching, Grace smiles and walks forward, taking the lead in saluting. "Welcome, Princess Evelyn."
After Evelyn returned the salute, Grace said to Evelyn: "It is fine to send only one maid to follow you, too many attendants will disturb your studies." Evelyn turns back, smiles and points to Ruth and speaks, "She's the one." The unspoken understanding between mistress and maid spoke volumes as Ruth stepped forward.
Grace nodded to Ruth in greeting, then addressed those who were not chosen: "The rest of you may leave now. Princess Evelyn will remain here for seven days. At this same time next week, we'll reunite you with her."
With that, Grace led them into the Taoist temple. Two Taoist nuns shut the heavy doors behind them, sealing Evelyn and Ruth away from the outside world. As they walked, Evelyn couldn't help but stare wide-eyed at the exotic architecture.
"Sister Grace." She blurted out, "Is this what your homeland looks like? It's breathtaking."
Grace smiled and replied: "Yes. Though where I'm from, the courtyards are grander."
From the moment they'd met at the wedding, Evelyn had felt drawn to Grace's gentle yet dignified presence—something about her exuded calm and trustworthiness. This elegant Oriental woman carried an air of mystery, one that seemed out of place yet intriguing within the royal family.
Evelyn burned with questions. Why was Grace, a foreigner, tasked with her protocol training? But fearing offense, she swallowed her curiosity. Just then, a delicate fragrance washed over them. Ruth inhaled deeply, whispering to Evelyn: "What is that floral scent? I've never smelled anything like it—sweet but subtle. We must plant whatever it is in your chambers!"
Grace turned with the whisper of silk, her smile holding secrets as old as the temple stones. "These are osmanthus blossoms." She answered, tracing a golden cluster with reverence. "But I'm afraid they can't be planted in princess Evelyn's room. They would wither in gilded chambers. Wild spirits thrive only where the mountain wind sings through their branches."
Evelyn felt the words settle in her chest like prophecy. Ruth's gasp echoed off the carved pillars. "Sister Grace," she breathed. "Do you see through hearts as clearly as scripture? How can you hear what I said?"
The inner sanctum embraced them in incense-laden silence. Grace let them visit freely. Evelyn's fingers trailed over lacquered writing table until they stilled upon a volume bound in peculiar leather. That distinctive warp near the spine... she'd glimpsed it once, while Melody was holding it.
"This book..." Evelyn chose her words as one steps through a minefield, "has followers at court?"
Grace answered: "No, only Princess Melody favors to read books here. The wheelchair confines her body, so she likes to read these wild folk histories for amusement."
Evelyn asked again, "does Princess Melody come to you often?'
Grace answered truthfully. "Not only Princess Melody come often, but the Queen, the Princes, and even King Winfred, come often."
Evelyn's fingers lingered on the embossed leather cover, tracing the gilded letters that spelled The Secret Annals of the Hernandez Dynasty's Fall.
"How curious." She mused, "I've never heard of this family in any court chronicle."
"Legends often sprout where history leaves voids." Grace remarked, polishing a jade paperweight with her sleeve. "Consider it a bard's fancy—truth and fabrication woven like lotus threads."
As Evelyn flipped through the vellum pages, a foxed parchment slipped free. The moment her eyes fell upon the illustration, her breath caught—a warrior queen astride a rearing stallion, crimson cloak billowing like wildfire. The artist had captured her in furious strokes: vermilion hair whipping across armor forged from dawnlight, eyes blazing with the fury of fallen kingdoms.
Grace observed Evelyn's transfixed state over her shoulder. "Ah, the customary character portrait." She explained, tapping the margin where an illuminator's monogram might have been. "Medieval scribes loved such embellishments to stir readers' imagination."
Evelyn snapped the volume shut, the sound echoing like a gavel. "I'm curious, can I borrow this book?" She declared, fingertips whitening against the spine.
A silent confusion passed between Grace and Jew .
"Sure, as your commands." Grace acquiesced.