There wasn’t much to Seiko’s job, honestly—it sounded easy on paper, and even with their other mockings the voices agreed that she wouldn’t have any trouble. She had to wake up early to help Princess Maenomi prepare for the day, but she had done the same for Mikka; for the rest of the day she had to entertain and somehow manage to educate the middle few children, although Lord Gin made it clear that it could be as simple as making them count the sakura petals as they fell.

They gave her a room down the hall and off in a corner from where the royals slept, adjacent to the mistress’s room.

They consider you to be nothing more than a servant, her voices murmured.

But at the same time, Seiko passed more than a few servants on her way there—they had separate rooms on the ground floor, if they lived at the palace at all. Lord Gin trusted her enough to keep her close, and the voices couldn’t find a way to discredit that.

Maybe they just trust you too much, then.

Her voices kept up a constant buzz even while she slept. She woke up with a faint headache, but shook it off. Her inadequacy would only encourage them to be louder; she had to resist their urging to cause harm, but if she gave in they would mock her.

Seiko could handle a little pain, if it meant avoiding conflict. Causing trouble would only get her sent home with a worse reputation than the one she arrived with.

You really think you have control? one of the voices asked. None of us do.

No one does, another voice corrected. A few others murmured some agreement for the statement.

Despite their grim tone, they actually quieted down significantly. Maybe they saw their duty done for now—satisfied in giving Seiko something to repeat in her mind, so that her thoughts were still theirs even when they had very little control over it. She couldn’t fight them any more than she already has, so she continued to prepare for the day.

The king’s mistress left her room a little bit before Seiko did, helpfully reminding her of where Princess Maenomi was before disappearing into her two children’s shared room.

Seiko knocked on the door as instructed, then cautiously entered. The princess still laid in bed, lightly snoring while hugging a pillow.

Inelegant, but endearing. Any hesitance Seiko had when she entered the room vanished, fading away into the kind of care she gave Mikka on her worst days.

“Princess,” Seiko said softly. “It’s time for you to get up.”

Princess Maenomi sighed and her eyes fluttered open.

“Does it have to be now?”

“I was told you need a little over an hour to get ready, so yes.”

“All right. I’ll stop pretending to sleep.”

The princess half-tossed the pillow she was holding to the other side of the bed, then sat up and stretched. With the first part done, Seiko made her way to the wardrobe in the corner.

“Shiharu—Uncle’s mistress, that’s her surname—never made sure I was awake, but she always made a huge racket.”

Princess Maenomi slid off her bed, combing through her hair with her fingers on the way to the vanity.

“Did she help you in the morning before?”

“Yes, but her priority was on the littlest ones. She laid out clothes for me, but unless I needed to wear a kimono she rarely stayed. It wasn’t out of malice, though—more people are willing to watch the king’s niece than his barely-legal children.”

Seiko opened the wardrobe, intimidated by the sheer amount of dresses packed into a relatively small space. A majority if it was made up of pinks and reds.

“Do you have any preference on what you want to wear today?”

“No. Choose whatever dress catches your eye first.”

“All right.” Seiko looked at the selection, and pulled out a pale pink one. It reminded her of the sakura. “One last question—do you prefer to dress first, or do your hair?”

“Dress; I don’t like to sit down and then stand again.”

Seiko gave the princess a little smile. “You and my mother share an opinion, then.”

“I’m curious—are we much alike, your mother and I?”

Seiko brought the dress over to the princess; the latter stayed standing, squinting at the cloudy mirror. She responded as Princess Maenomi took off her nightgown.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“It’s hard for me to say,” Seiko admitted. “I haven’t spent much time with you to know. You’re both—or were, in my mother’s case—shrine maidens.”

Princess Maenomi let out a hollow chuckle; she undressed on her own, but accepted Seiko’s help for the new outfit.

“Oh, I’m terrible at it. Teha always distracts me.”

“Teha?”

The princess paused for a moment—the voices suggested she didn’t realize she said it—before explaining as Seiko gently latched the back of the dress closed.

“Tekazu Hafumi. She’s the friend I mentioned yesterday—the one I bought a parting gift for.”

“Are you two very close?” Seiko moved so she could straighten the sleeves; it had a poof to it at the edge, but the end came too far up and it made it look awkward. The whole thing flowed in a way that mostly obscured the figure underneath.

“Very. We used to go out and shop together.”

She gave something like a fond smile to the mirror before frowning and shaking her head. Seiko tried to keep the silence from getting too deep by returning to the earlier point.

“Still, with that in mind, that’s one other thing you and my mother have in common.”

Princess Maenomi’s sad look was replaced by curiosity. “And what’s that?”

“She always told me she was a horrible shrine maiden—although she was distracted by my father, not a friend. He’d whisk her away for some romantic trip around town and bring her back before the head priestess noticed.”

“Those are kind words to give to a cowardly man,” Princess Maenomi admitted.

“She’s never held it against him,” Seiko admitted. “She only held contempt for a short while after he left, but she decided to take every moment as a story to share later instead.”

“Lady Aimiki truly blessed her, then. I would never be able to muster that kind of forgiveness.”

Seiko murmured a kind of agreement, moving on to the other sleeve. Princess Maenomi ended conversation there for a few minutes, allowing Seiko to wrap up the dress without much more distractions.

Princess Maenomi sat down at Seiko’s quiet instruction, and the latter picked up the hairbrush on the dresser. The princess’s eyes stayed glued on the reflection, but they didn’t focus on one specific thing in it.

“By the way,” she said with a little hum, “Has Father given you proper warnings yet?”

“‘Warnings?’”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ then.” She sighed, but continued with relative indifference while Seiko brushed her hair. “Well, I suppose all you need to know is that Jukazu is abhorrent—avoid him if you can—and Teiki will do whatever he can to please him, so he’s impossible to negotiate with. Rinatsu, Akemi, and Chiki—you’ll likely be teaching them—are annoying, but harmless, and you shouldn’t see much of Dazuko unless you run into Shiharu.”

Seiko recognized those were the names of the royal children, but not much else. Out of the list, she only knew Prince Jukazu as a child; Prince Teiki and Princess Maenomi were born at the time, but neither seemed to recognize her.

“That’s a lot to remember.”

“Oh, don’t worry about the names themselves,” Princess Maenomi said with a dismissive hand wave. “Even Uncle needs a note to keep them straight. The most important part to know is which ones are more or less likely to make your day miserable.”

Seiko finished brushing and gently brought the princess’s hair behind her shoulders.

“Do you want me to tie it back for you?”

“…In a braid, please. I like the look of it best.”

“Okay. Behind or to the side?”

“Side, on the right.”

Seiko quietly started working on it, trying not to pull. If Princess Maenomi had complaints, they were hidden.

She’s just jealous her hair isn’t like yours—dark brown and straight, a voice suggested.

She glanced at her own reflection in the mirror. Honestly, she couldn’t quite see what made everyone so stunned with her—she looked like everyone else. She just happened to fit in with what others would consider ‘ideal.’

Spoken by a girl who’s never truly been uncomfortable with herself, one voice murmured. Better to not recognize it than overly flaunt it or try to hide it.

Princess Maenomi didn’t say anything else while Seiko braided her hair, letting it trail off to the right side as requested. The princess smiled at her reflection and opened one of her vanity’s drawers.

“Can you tie this in as well?” She took out a string of small jewels and showed it to Seiko. “I can never get it in myself, and I want to take full advantage of you being here.”

“All right.”

Seiko carefully took the string—worth more than the cumulative money her father sent each month, she was sure—and nestled it through the braid. It took a few minutes, but at the end it weaved in and out with the braid, occasionally hiding in hair and usually showing out in front.

When Seiko stepped back, Princess Maenomi caressed the string of jewels and smiled a little wider.

“That’s everything in my usual routine,” the princess said as she stood up, “So you’re free to start heading to the dining room. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“I was told to take you there.”

Princess Maenomi looked surprised, for a second, then gave a sheepish shuffle. She glanced at Seiko in the mirror instead of turning around.

“Stand outside the room, then? I need to get something and I’d rather keep the contents a secret.”

But she still trusted you with the information that she has a secret, one voice mused. Silly girl.

Still, Seiko had no reason to pry and the princess’s eyes shone with a kind of pleading.

Without another word, Seiko nodded and walked back to the door. Princess Maenomi murmured something like thanks, but was quiet compared to a few voices mocking Seiko for her consideration—and even then, some voices praised her for the same reason.

She closed the door behind her and waited as requested. The other members of the royal family seemed to be awake already, their doors half-open to show that they were absent but no one was allowed inside.

It only took a minute or two before Princess Maenomi appeared, relatively nonchalant and with the same mustered strength that she had while in town. She held her head high and led the way without any gestures; Seiko followed behind her by a few steps, enough distance if she needed it while still being relatively close.