There was a slight falling off between Princess and me. We quarreled vehemently, each pointing an accusatory finger at the other regarding the blame for our last escapade. She, in her characteristic obstinance, insisted that the entirety of the idea had been mine, further alleging that I had pressured her into partaking. I rejected this fabrication, reminding her of the pettiness of her squable with the maid—an altercation that had truly instigated the debacle.

  Moreover, during our second bath of the day—necessitated by the paint that Raiya had inadvertently smeared upon us—Princess was unrelenting in her chastisement of me, rebuking feelings I could not suppress. How, I implored her, was one supposed to refrain from a reaction under such circumstances?

  Ordinarily, I would have reveled in the tempestuousness I had stirred within her. To witness her rage would have been an amusement to carry me through the day. However, the irony of my growing dependency upon her rendered her anger more problematic than delightful. She refused to engage with any of my arguments, responding only in grunts, and punctuated her frustration by repeatedly pinching her arms—knowing full well that we shared the sensation of pain. By the time supper arrived, she orchestrated a petty revenge by deliberately requesting dishes she knew I found distasteful. Regrettably for her, she detested them even more than I. Years of consuming a never-ending procession of disagreeable meals to muster the strength to rise from my bed had granted me the upper hand in tolerating such fare. Her antics were in vain.

  Fermina, the dutiful older sister, took her seat beside us at the grand table, her expression betraying disappointment despite her polite greeting. It was clear she avoided engaging with us directly, hoping perhaps that Princess would take the initiative and address whatever issue plagued her. Alas, Princess remained inflexible, and Fermina, forced to break the silence, spoke with more directness than she likely intended.

  “You are not conducting yourself appropriately,” Fermina chastised, her voice steady though touched with hurt. The table, though expansive, sat comparatively few, making the conversation all but private. “I have come to expect better of you.”

  “What is it this time, Fermina?” Princess retorted with a tone utterly lacking in respect for her elder. It was an atrocious manner in which to address someone so sensible and reasonable!

  “You wound me with your tone,” Fermina did not conceal her disappointment. Yet, ever the epitome of decorum, she delicately dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin before continuing. “Rephrase your words politely, or we shall have a more meaningful conversation within the privacy of our chambers, Aufelia.”

  “I… I apologize; I am a bit on edge,” Princess excused herself, pausing her meal and pushing the plate away. She turned toward Fermina, granting her full attention.

  Ah! To perceive Fermina so clearly was a blessing I had only dared to dream of. Fermina’s features softened as she graciously accepted the apology, her words, “Apology accepted,” sending my heart into a frenzied pace. Free from the curse of blood pressure weaknesses, I allowed myself to feel without restraint, savoring the divine fortune of her presence. “We are all understandably shaken as of late,” Fermina continued, placing a consoling hand upon our bare shoulder. There was no hidden disgust in her touch this time, only tender affection, an unmerited kindness bestowed upon me. “Yet, that is no excuse for your recent behavior.”

  “I will moderate my tone in the future…” Princess readily submitted.

  “That is the least of what I heard about you today,” Fermina censured, frowning. “I received news that you constantly rejected Riatna’s invitations? She is having a hard time and wants to be with you. With us. What do you have against her? What is more, lying to her, Afuelia? You put up a thousand excuses on why you would not join her in a bath, saying you preferred to wait a day or two, which is your right, but then you later claimed the east washroom twice on the same day. Riatna was rightfully upset.”

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  “T-that is…” I could not suppress my petty satisfaction in witnessing Princess’s attempts to distance me from her sisters turn against her. “Y-you know how she gets! She’s a nightmare to bathe with! Such a child… jumping, joking, playing pranks; I was not in the mood to deal with it,” Princess chided.

  “All the more reason to!” Fermina clenched that hand on our shoulder. It did not hurt. “Is it not your duty to correct her as a sister? You know better than her. If she misbehaves, you have the same responsibility I have towards you, and I don’t want to hear again that you have been avoiding her, understood?”

  Princess could only sigh in defeat. She pinched her thigh—likely in an attempt to punish me for my gratification at her reprimand. “Yes, understood.”

  A toast in my name was proposed by a member of the court. All present raised their glasses, a few words were spoken, and though the gesture was polite, it cast a shadow over the table’s mood.

  “There is another order of business,” Fermina continued, a bit more color to her cheeks after having downed a full drink. I had always wondered what strong alcohol tasted like, but Princess inappropriately joined the toast with plain water, which escaped everyone’s notice. “Aufelia, we cannot abuse the hospitality of gracious Lord Duke. What is this I am hearing about ordering around the servants to pose for you in the art room?”

  “That little snitch!” Princess muttered, incredulous that such news had traveled so swiftly. Clearly, the model herself had been the informant. Fermina, though hearing the words, feigned ignorance. “I have taken up art, Fermina. I needed a model,” Princess declared, her tone once more haughty and vexed.

  “Something else I find odd is that you requested her to undress. Nude painting, Aufelia?” I could feel Princess’s blood going cold. “What a way to start your career as a paintress. Are you not supposed to draw fruit and move up from there? The mansion is not lacking in willing teachers, of which you consulted none. And if you insist on drawing the… human figure, there are other ways than forcing servants. Riatna, for instance, would be charmed to assist.”

  “It was a bit of momentary madness, really!” Princess skillfully detracted from the reason for our latest disagreement. “It is as you said. I should begin with fruit and such. I am sorry, Fermina! I won’t do anything like that again.”

  “As long as you understand,” Fermina replied, her tender hands clasping ours. She gazed deeply into our eyes—within her sky-blue irises, I saw Princess’s reflection. “I know you are searching for ways to cope. We all are. But you are not alone, Aufelia. You may come to me anytime you need to—never forget that, my dear. I shall find a proper teacher for you. Now, go—rest. The sun’s prayer is approaching.”

  Obeying her sister’s gentle command, Princess concluded her meal and departed the dining room, her legs trembling. She wandered the hallways until she found a quiet alcove and studied her reflection in a polished onyx horse statue.

  “What the fuck was that?” she erupted, her language unbecoming of a Lady of her station. “This is exactly what I mean! You keep your stupid ideas and fantasies with my sister away from me; you got that? I don’t want to be feeling that when I am near her! Y-you nearly made me lose my breath when she grabbed my hand! Y-you stupid, perverted, little, stupid, damned…!” Her tirade descended into a frenzy of stomping and kicking.

  “Hold a moment!” I interjected, desperate for a pause. “What could you possibly know of my feelings?” I chose my words with utmost care.

  “Oh, please,” she sneered, abandoning the statue and cutting off my response. “Do you think you’re so clever, having this ‘secret love’ for the beauty taking care of the monster and whatnot? You may think you were hiding it, but we’ve all known you have a thing for Fermina for years.”

  Her words wounded me far more deeply than I dared admit. That beautiful Fermina had been aware of my uncouth and inappropriate feelings for her? What a disgrace! The urge to pen an apology for any offense I had unknowingly caused consumed me. What a fool I had been!

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