The day of the first tea party had arrived. And I definitely couldn't say I wasn't nervous. Although I suspect part of my nerves have to do with the clothes the maids shoved me into, the hair styling... I was used to being taken care of by the maids (secretly dressing myself, to keep in practice), but this time, I was dressing to give a good impression, and anybody would be worried about that, right?

Still, Elizabeth's list had proven pretty useful. She'd had tea before with some of them, so their preferences had been written down, and so, dutifully suggested to mother.

"Oh, she's such a sweet lady, looking out for you like that!"

No, she's still a demon in human skin, mother, but I will agree that she was looking out for me this time. And writing the letters was fun. Even if it was somewhat hard to write while sitting in mother's lap, since she wouldn't have it any other way.

After all, I was the perfect height. And by perfect, I mean the most embarassing and distracting height. I'm still an adult inside, an adult who's going to have to suppress their inner desires for several years to come, and mother's chest is an almost constant reminder. Especially when it's resting on the top of my head.

But I persevered, flowers were pressed, ornaments were added, frilly cursive was written (that was actually really fun, I hadn't done that since high school, and I really hoped I'd have an excuse to keep doing it in future) and the invitations were sent.

And, when the replies came back, their own additions were so sweet to see, even my worn heart was healed. Polite language couldn't fully conceal their emotions, and most of them were delighted to answer.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

I say most, because there's someone staring at me with a superior smile on her face, and a not-so-elegantly held teacup in her hand. Ostentatious dress. Twintails. Ribbons. Arrogance. And a complete lack of awareness for rank, considering she's the daughter of an Earl, and I am the daughter of a Duchess. And there's at least three Marquesses in the mix too.

Oh god, I've landed myself an ohohojousama, haven't I?

The maids set down the tea, a lovely second flush, and we all got to chatting. Mostly, it was inconsequential stuff. What things we liked to read (I was a big fan of romance, a couple were fond of adventure stories, but mostly, it was romance), how nice each others' dresses were (and they were, the tailors in this world do an amazing job!), commiserating with each other about our respective tutors (well, except me. I'd be laughed off the table if I bitched.)

"Next year, my father will be sending me a sword teacher, and I'm looking forward to it! They're head of a B-class adventuring team, and I hear they'll be well worth the cost!"

I narrow my eyes. Twintails is being smug about this, and I'm annoyed. She's a year younger than me, after all, and she knows I want to learn how to swing a sword. We were talking about it earlier, after all. Even some of the other ladies are mentally, neatly, placing her under "enemy."

"I so look forward to it, and I'll make sure to spar with you, to show you how special my teacher is!"

And she keeps digging, too. What was her name again? I've got to remember in a hurry, because Patricia, the second daughter of Marchioness Firth, is openly staring daggers, and if I don't... Ah, yes!

"Speaking of teachers, Miss Meldrew-Fotherby, Viscountess Maidstone has returned to her family this summer. A whole month." The rest smile, some sigh, and Karen Meldrew-Fotherby subtly turns a nice shade of purple. It's one thing to hire an adventurer. It's another to have Elizabeth, and she knows it.

I feel a sharp pain in my shin, and I keep my face serene, sipping my tea, as Karen pouts, and the inward smirking radiates from the rest of the table.

I'd better let the rest know I can deal with this by myself. Otherwise this poor princess is going to be eaten alive.

Wait.

Dammit, that sounds exactly like Elizabeth!