Fated Across Worlds

The Oddball Princess (1)

Lady Ilse's household was in a state of dignified uproar on the second dawn after Hilde—in more ways than one—woke up.

She and the two princesses were each preparing to travel to the Queendom's capital. They needed to be on their way before the sun rose or they wouldn't make it in time for the funeral rites, which traditionally began at noon.

Even by carriage, the travel time should only take around four hours for royals who could exchange spent horses for fresh ones at every outpost. On account of Hilde's condition, however, they would have to travel much slower.

Because her neck no longer felt sore, Hilde had insisted on taking off the brace, but her skull still throbbed, and she’d sometimes grow dizzy and weak with even a bit of movement. The most well-sprung carriage would still churn her brain to mush. Unlike the last two days, however, she simply could not afford to be drugged into a stupor this day.

Presently, though the sun was already peeking over the eastern horizon, one of the three ladies was still underdressed.

After giving Hilde permission to delay her return, the Queen seemed to have forgotten about her younger sister. Busy as she was with the current state of affairs—and her fears of losing another heir having been laid to rest—her lapse was understandable. What was less understandable was how Princess Hilde's own attendants also seemed to have forgotten about her.

After realizing the previous night that Hilde's mourning dress was yet to be delivered, Lady Ilse hurriedly sent a courier to the palace in Oste to remedy the situation. She couldn't simply lend her one as none of her own clothes nor Gisela's would fit. Hilde was already tall for a girl to begin with, but she had grown even taller in the last few months.

Hilde's mourning dress had arrived in the manor only a quarter of an hour ago. It was the proper gray of bereavement, done in the plainest style, but it was tight across Hilde's shoulders and chest, and the hem fell two inches short of an acceptable length.

That was because it's been half a year since Hilde was last measured for a new set of wardrobe. For comparison, Lady Ilse would have old clothes altered or new ones made for her still-growing daughter every four months.

"Really!" Lady Ilse had stormed as soon as she entered Hilde's room and saw her in the ill-fitting dress. "Has the palace servants' competence declined this much? Forgetting to send you clothes, not keeping track of your measurements—you're still a princess, whatever else you are!"

Without being told, Lady Ilse's three attendants approached Hilde and, as gently as they had helped her put it on, stripped her of the offensive garment. She was assisted to a chair, then, as quickly as they could without resorting to shoddy workmanship, the maids undid the dress's stitching so they could adjust the size as much as the available fabric would allow.

Their automatic competence put a fine point to their mistress's condemning words about the palace servants.

"I dismissed all my personal attendants except one, Aunt Ilse," Hilde explained while watching the highly-trained maids work, fascinated despite her own aversion to doing needlework. She was, in essence, taking on all the blame by saying this, but the Lady really couldn't disapprove of Hilde any more than she already did. "I'm afraid I didn't choose her for competence. It was for turning a blind eye to whatever I did."

'As long as I returned the favor, of course,' she added to herself, privately appreciating how she’d never needed to plan an escape when Nadia was her chaperone. Somehow, she'd always find that her maid had made her escape first.

That suited Hilde just fine. She had long ago decided that she didn't want to be served, mostly because that entailed having people hovering around her all the time, for no good reason other than to await her pleasure. After entering adolescence, she discovered that "her pleasure" was to be left alone as much as possible, free to pursue her own interests.

It was also just as well that her interests—practicing swordplay, archery, and horseback riding, among other things—brought harm only to herself. Her rebellious years could really have gone a lot worse, all things considered. Now, being unconstrained had simply become a habit.

Hilde was half-expecting Lady Ilse to go on a tirade because of what she’d just said. After all, that statement was also half-meant to goad her. But the older woman not only remained calm, she also took on a thoughtful air as she squinted at the long-limbed and—to the matron's visible distaste—leanly-muscled girl on the chair.

Huffing suddenly, she withdrew her attention for the moment to check on the maids' progress. "Leave off doing the hem for now," she instructed. "That could be finished on the carriage once there's enough daylight."

The three maids nodded their understanding and, under bright lamps, focused on the dress's other sections. It was truly remarkable how they could keep working on their own part without getting in each other's way. They were so efficient that they got everything but the hem done in less than ten minutes.

Wasting no time, they helped Hilde put on the dress again. She found that not only did it fit much better, she would also not have known it had been hastily let out and re-stitched if she hadn't seen it being done.

For the first time since she fell off a horse and her entire world changed, Hilde broke into a wide, almost childlike smile as she met the three maids' eyes.

"What marvelous skills," she told them, her awe evident. "Thank you!"

The maids gave small, hesitant smiles as they bowed in acknowledgment, but as they did so, they couldn't help glancing at each other with knotted foreheads.

Who wouldn't be confused when someone of such high rank showed that much appreciation for an ordinary service rendered? Even when servants accomplished much greater feats, nobles and royals rarely made a comment that's not a complaint, let alone offered praise. Or thanks.

They hadn't seen much evidence of it during her short visits to Nelke in the past, but it seemed it was true, what people say—this princess really was an oddball.