1711, Aethiel Palace, Kestramore City
"WHAT A WONDERFUL ROOM," Catarina remarked lightheartedly as she walked into the servant's sleeping quarters. "I particularly appreciate the lack of windows. It creates such a cozy ambient, reminiscent of a mole's burrow, don't you think so Lady le Comte ?"
"Indeed. This straw matress is exquisitely soft and comfortable. It reminds me of the beds I used to sleep on back at the barracks, except that this one isn't soaked with blood."
"And the sheets! Such beautiful sheets!" Catarina exclaimed while roughly tugging the stiff, scratchy linen that had been tucked into either sides of the bed.
"What are you two fools gloating about ? This is not something to be glad of!" Lavinia cried out exasperatedly, choking in between sobs. Not only did she need to part from her entourage of beloved maids, she had to abandon the expensive brocade and silk gown that Daddy bought for her too!
When she first received the invitation to the choosing ceremony, Lavinia expected that she would be allowed to stay at one of the royal quarters, and she would dress up beautifully and cause the Crown Prince to become enamoured with her at first sight. Later, he would tell the Queen that he favours he so deeply that he wanted to marry her that very day!
"We already knew that," Catarina replied stoically. "I'm not happy with this arrangement, and I'm sure none of you are too. But what do you want me to do, Lady Olivier ? Mope around and cry for Daddy ?"
Lavinia was frozen in an instant, and a second later, tears began to trickle down her cheeks like a waterfall. "How cruel you are!" she screeched before running off to her bed at the other end of the room.
"Terrible attitude," Rosie whispered under her breath.
"Awful, awful behaviour," Marie subsequently followed, shaking her head in disdain.
Catarina let out a sigh before sitting down on her own bed. The straw bed was awfully lumpy, and even she could not understand why they were forced to live like this. Their maids were given separate quarters, and according to Rosie, while the mattresses were definitely not filled with goose feather, they were far better than these straw beds.
"Miss, I can switch places with you," Rosie proposed. "You can change into my clothes and sleep in the other quarters."
"Or we can smuggle one of the mattresses inside here," Marie suggested.
"There is no need for that, Rosie, Marie," Catarina chuckled. "There must be a reason why the princess made us sleep here, and I intend to know why. Now, both of you, off to bed!"
The two maids reluctantly left, and Catarina eventually laid down of her straw bed. The beds were placed in a neat row, and Cosmina occupied the bed nearest to the door, followed by Jessamine, and then Catarina. The bed to her left was occupied by a girl she had never seen before, but she found the girl's abundance of freckles and shiny gold-red curls quite lovely indeed.
Next to the girl was the famous beauty Ingrid Blanchard, and beside her was the infamous little Winnie Olivier. Finally, at the end of the room was Marguerite le Prince.
As Catarina snuggled inside her blankets, she noticed that her neighbour, the girl who she did not know the name of, was blankly staring at the ceiling, her beautiful features looking rather grim.
"Psst!" she hissed, trying to get her attention, but the girl seemed to not have heard her. "Psst! Oi!"
The girl's eyes quickly flickered towards Catarina's, and they were wide open with shock. "I'm sorry, I did not notice you," she spoke, her voice sweet and delightful, reminiscent of honey.
Catarina stuck her hand out of the blanket, brushing off the apology. "Hello, what's your name ?" she asked, her tone as friendly as she possibly could.
"Oh," the girl murmured, her cheeks quickly gaining a red tint. "My name is Eleanora Finley."
Catarina quickly realised that there was no noble house named Finley, and while she was curious as to how it was possible for Eleanora to enter the choosing ceremony, she did not pursue it any further.
"I am not part of the twelve noble houses, if you were wondering," Eleanora added, her head slightly bowed in shame.
"That isn't something to be ashamed of at all, so keep your head up high," Catarina said with a soft smile. "I'm Catarina, and I can be your friend, if you'd like me to, that is."
Eleanora frowned, unable to believe her ears. "You are too kind, Lady de Fontaine."
"Catarina," she corrected. "We're friends, are we not ? So, you must call me Catarina, and I shall call you Eleanora."
The girl with reddish blonde hair smile meekly and nodded. "Catarina," she said softly.
♤
"This is ridiculous!" Cosmina shouted as soon as the Princess left the kitchen. Not only were they denied breakfast, they were now tasked with peeling carrots and potatoes. Only after that they would be allowed to cook their own food in the kitchen.
"So this is what an uncooked potato looks like," Jessamine commented while dusting off the dirt on the potato.
"Now, how should we peel it ?"
The truth is, all of these girls were incredibly pampered and coddled by their families, and even Jessamine, who had braved through battlefields had never held a kitchen knife before.
"I fried an egg once, so I should know," Catarina claimed as she picked up the knife and cut the potato in half. "So, as we all know, we only eat the white part here, so I think we should scoop it out with a spoon."
"Let's go with that," Cosmina said exasperatedly while grabbing a spoon and sat crosslegged on the floor next to mountain of potatoes and carrots.
Catarina too followed suit, staring at the holey potato in her palm intensely. Then, she felt a soft tapping on her shoulder.
"Catarina," Eleanora whispered. "That is not how you peel a potato."
"Oh," she murmured. "How would you do it ?"
The petite girl sat down next to her while holding onto a small knife. Eleanora then picked up a potato and began to very gently peel away the brown skin, leaving behind the white flesh.
"Ooh!" Catarina exclaimed. "This method is even better ! Everyone, come and take a look !"
Cosmina and Jessamine arrived in no time, peering their heads over Catarina's shoulder unashamedly. Lavinia was staring from afar, too prideful to mix with the lot, but not clever enough to do it on her own. As for Ingrid, it was the exact same case.
Marguerite, however, had a different approach. Even though she already knew how to peel potatoes after her family fell into destitution, she pretended to be ignorant, preserving the image of a protected, pampered young lady.
"Do you do it like this ?" Jessamine asked, slicing off a huge chunk of the potato.
"No, you must only get rid of the skin. Try to peel off as little as you could so that the potatoes don't go to waste," Eleanora explained patiently, but anyone could see that Jessamine's rough hands were unsuited for the intricate art of peeling potatoes.
"Hah! I've already gotten the hang of it. I might be a prodigy at this," Catarina bragged, inciting the laughter of the ladies inside the kitchen.
Within the hour, the huge baskets full of potatoes and carrots were peeled and chopped, ready to be cooked. While waiting for the Princess to come back, the four girls began to talk among themselves.
"Do you think that we'll get a reward for completing the task ? Like being allowed to sleep in the royal quarters ?" Catarina hissed.
"That would be wishful thinking, Lady de Fontaine," Cosmina replied snootily. "But I do wish that we receive something in return, at least. I noticed that there were some lamb cutlets near the fruit basket."
"Meat!" Catarina exclaimed. "That would be very fitting, as I'm terribly hungry right now. Oh, just imagine the soft, succulent lamb, grilled to perfection in the oven, topped with a delicate and flavourful demi-glace sauce, served on a bed of fluffy mashed potatoes!"
It is often said that the more you hope, the worst you end up feeling.
"Good, good," Princess
Demitria said while inspecting the prepared ingredients. "As all of you had performed well, I will let you use the kitchen."
Their hearts soared, and each of them began to think of what they would make later on. "But you can only use the ingredients in this basket," the Princess added.
Nestled within the basket were several pitiful bits of carrots, potatoes and celery, along with a whole raw chicken.
"I'll leave you to it," Demitria said smilingly. "Again, good job everyone!"
At first, the entire kitchen was blanketed in silence, and then, a soft sob was heard. Of course, since everyone was struck with anguish at that moment, none of them really bothered to care. But the sobs grew louder, grew more frequent.
Now more annoyed than mortified, Catarina turned around, her eyes keenly searching for the source of that sound. And lo and behold, there Lavinia was, moping on the floor, crying pathetically.
"Do you think that we should console her ?" Catarina hissed, but Cosmina sourly shot back, "Let her cry. At least her tears will be able to clean the dusty floors, and they are more useful than she will ever become."
And then, like a guardian angel that descended down to Earth, Marguerite knelt down, grasping Lavinia's hands in hers. "It's alright, cry all you want. It must be hard for you, isn't it ?" she spoke softly.
Lavinia's beady, dark blue eyes immediately turned a shade brighter.
"It's awful! They're torturing me!"
Marguerite let out a sigh of regret. "That is true. What they're doing is wrong. This shouldn't be happening. We can't even see the Prince," she murmured gently.
"You are hoping to see the Prince ?" Lavinia hastily inquired, her voice laced with a hint of jealousy.
Disdain flickered in Marguerite's eyes, but they disappeared as quickly as they came.
"No, not really," she said sweetly. "I only came here because I am obliged to. Eventhough he is indeed handsome, I feel that he is too noble, too high-born for me. Come to think of it, wouldn't you be the perfect bride for him ?"
"Me ?" Lavinia exclaimed, trying to deny, but very clearly flattered by Marguerite's sugarcoated words.
"Yes, you of course!" Marguerite chuckled. "You are the epitome of beauty, Lady Olivier. You are gentle, demure and lovely. How could the Prince not fall for you ? The only reason why he hadn't proposed yet is because he hasn't had the chance to speak with you. After that, I am certain that he'd be head over heels!"
At the other end of the kitchen, the four ladies looked over in disgust. "Mental, both of them," Catarina remarked.
She then peered into the basket, pondering whether she should just chuck the whole chicken into a vat of grease and call it a day.
"I say we should make roast potatoes," Jessamine proposed. "We have it all the time at the barracks. It tastes heavenly when it's cold outside."
Cosmina scoffed. "That's coarse people food. Eventhough my mother is the daughter of a Baron, she is quite the established culinarian. One of her signatures dishes, chicken a'la beaummiers had captured the king's heart, and he had to personally ask for the recipe from my mother!"
"Oh, that is splendid indeed," Catarina retorted. "I assume that you are able to recreate that now ?"
Cosmina immediately quietened. "My father saw it fit for me to be trained in music and literature instead-"
"Just say that you can't cook!" Jessamine chuckled. "Now, coarse people food or not, you better eat whatever is available. We are not in the position to stuff our gobs and indulge."
Then, the small, meek Eleanora her hand. "I can cook," she told them. "I might not be as good as Lady Breckenridge's mother, but I can prepare stew at the very least."
And then, the three ladies swarmed around Eleanora like hungry puppies, closely watching her every move. It was fascinating to see how she turned a dead bird into cuts of sweet, succulent white meat, and dirty potatoes that were just pulled out of the ground into a warm, hearty meal.
After approximately half an hour of cooking, Eleanora finally lifted the lid of the pot, revealing a thick, glossy brown broth that simmered gently, and an appetising smell wafted into the air.
"I call dibs on the thigh!" Catarina exclaimed as she rushed to grab some bowls.
"I call dibs on the other thigh!" Jessamine added, her hands reaching for the loaves of bread on the top shelf.
At last, they were seated at the creaky wooden table, with the new addition of the slightly arrogant Lady Ingrid Blanchard. This young lady, proclaimed the fairest in the kingdom, barely spoke to anyone and simply kept her nose up high, but she was not as horrible as Lavinia, so Catarina invited her to dine together.
The stew was poured into smaller bowls, served with a slice of bread on the side. It was undoubtedly peasant food, but the starving Catarina did not care about that.
"The taste is remarkably good, Miss Finley," she heard Jessamine say, and when she put a spoonful of the broth in her mouth, it truly was as good as Jessamine said.
"Did you take cooking classes before, Miss Finley ? This stew you made is wonderful, truly," Catarina stated smilingly.
The small redhaired girl let out a soft laugh. "Not at all. It's a common dish in the village I grew up in. Everyone knows how to make it, and they swap the chicken for different meats according to the season. Sometimes it is wild boar, sometimes it is rabbit-"
"Rabbit ?!" Ingrid Blanchard screeched, looking up from her bowl in shock. "Your townspeople must be savages, feasting on those poor innocent creatures! What on Earth led you to do such a crime ?"
Eleanora smiled gently, her gaze eerily calm. "Starvation," she said curtly. "The lands in my town had never been very fertile, and the harvest is rarely bountiful. During winter, oxen and cattle would be brought in, slaughtered, and sold.
But oddly, a single pound of beef that is usually for two coins during the summer is suddenly sold for eight coins. In order to not let their children starve to death, my savage townsmen combed the woods in the peak of winter to find anything that could be eaten. Does that answer your question, Lady Blanchard ?"
Realisation began to dawn on Catarina. The dress made of cheap linen felt scratchy against her delicate skin, its quality obviously not up to par with the silk brocade she usually donned. It was a massive downgrade for Catarina, but it was what the mass population of the kingdom wore everyday.
She felt that this meal of chicken stew and bread was mere peasant food, but many people would be grateful to be able to put food on the table. Perhaps, the Princess's intent is not to torture them, but to teach instead ?
Please vote and comment if you liked this chapter! Also, do check out my other story, The Usurper's Queen!