"Lara, I am not putting on that dress," I say, staring at the plain brown garment she's holding. Are they planning to work me in the fields or what? It's ugly. She huffs and gives me a condescending look. I'm used to how they treat me, but this can't go on any longer.
"Where are my dresses?" I ask, sipping the jasmine tea I was served a minute ago.
"The Imperial family does not allow such revealing gowns," she replies, clearly annoyed.
So this was how I was going to be treated?
"Well, they're not here. And my dresses were never revealing to begin with. I'm not wearing that potato-colored thing." She angrily walks out of the room. I'm done being walked over.
A few minutes later, the head maid enters with my maid trailing behind.
"My lady, is there a problem?" she asks.
"Where are the dresses I brought with me? How many times am I going to ask this question?"
"They were deemed inappropriate for the Crown Prince's fiancée," she answers.
"So a potato-colored dress is suitable for the future Crown Princess? Are you looking down on a future member of the Imperial family?" My voice sharpens. I've overlooked everything, but my silence has spoiled them.
"Forgive me, my lady. We will bring you another dress," she says, clearly shaken by my shift in tone.
"I want another maid assigned to me. Lisa is not skilled enough," I say, eyeing the dried petunias on the vanity. The head maid nods quietly. I notice the scared look on Lisa's face.
"These flowers are a mockery to me too. I should have her flogged or imprisoned."
"My lady, she is new and still learning," the head maid defends her.
"So you assigned a less skilled maid to me? Am I a joke to you?" The maid drops to her knees, begging for forgiveness.
"Why should I? You disrespected me and failed in your duties." I feel drained, confused, and angry. That awful dress ruined my mood.
"Just get out of my room." They scramble to obey.
There's a knock, and William enters. I didn't want to see him—not after what happened the night before. Yet here he is, in his knightly uniform, looking more dashing than ever. I fake a cough after catching myself checking him out.
"How was your night, my lady?" he asks. It's the first time he's ever asked me something like that. That night changed something between us.
"Very short. How was yours, Sir William?"
"I was waiting for daylight... didn't sleep much," he says, searching my eyes. What is this tension?
"I'm in my robe. Is it appropriate for a knight to be alone with a lady dressed like this?" I tease.
He looks away, and I stifle a laugh.
"I wrote a letter to the Pope. Shall I call a messenger, or send it by birds?" I ask, watching his back.
"He won't see you, my lady," he says, turning around. His eyes scan me, and I swear they twinkle. I wrap an arm across my chest. I'm clothed, but his gaze makes me feel otherwise.
"Why won't he see me? I'm the Crown Princess!" I nearly stutter.
He steps closer. I freeze, can hear him breathe. Then, a smile. He never smiles.
"You really suffered a concussion. Do you still get migraines?" he asks, gently brushing my hair. My body betrays me—I relax under his touch. I want to lay against his chest and maybe...
No. I shove him away.
"You've been acting very inappropriately lately, Sir William." He smirks.
"Sir? Was it not just William?" he taunts.
"Just William, you're scaring me." I'm honest. I take a step back.
"I would never hurt you, Penny," he says gently, but I hear it—that crack in his voice. He's hurt.
"He made you different... or maybe you're really her," he says, solemnly, and leaves.
Another mystery. What was Iris' relationship with William? He had a nickname for her—Penny. They must have been close.
What is this world? Who rewrote my book?