The Lies of a White Rose

Not Fair

Ellynor

I should have figured she would do something as stupid as this. How could I have not foreseen something like this sooner? And moreover, how had I been so blind to her naïve actions? She got all defensive and edgy when I even so much as broached the subject, so I doubted I could wean anymore information off her without thoroughly offending her or worse: risk losing the only true friend I have.

Trust.

That was the thing: Cece told me to have faith and trust her, and she implored me not to tattle.

What she didn't know was just how much she was asking from me. And what kind of friend was I, letting her do something this dangerous? But then again, who was I to tell the princess of Devon what she could and could not do?

I was so, so confused; so lost within my own mind as I lay awake in bed, too restless to even think about sleeping. Knowing her, she was probably outside again now, doing who knows what with who knows who?

Dragging myself out of the tangle of quilts, I walk up to our dividing doors and jiggle the handle.

It rattled, but remained firm.

"Celeste?" I said tentatively. "Are you there?"

No reply met my ears. She was definitely gone.

I really, really hoped she was careful. Gods, if she anything ever happened to her, I would be the one responsible for not being the wiser, by informing the king and queen of their daughter's forbidden nocturnal undertakings. And I would never likely forgive myself for it.

It was a ridiculous thought, so ridiculous I could have laughed been under other circumstances: the dainty, lovely, fair and pure princess Celeste, getting her hands dirty. Scaling castle walls alone and unassisted, soiling her fine shoes among the common filth? It seemed hardly entertainable.

Even though by title I was technically nothing more than her glorified noble-born servant, and she my mistress in which I attend to her every beck and call, we still had a particular bond that no other individual could understand. And that meant that I was closer to her than most, and that I knew her better than even her own family did. And yet I doubted that would be enough to convince the king and queen otherwise and save my own hide should bad turn to worse.

And if I died? Father was too ill and too much of a coward to take action or say a word against the King.

Earlier that night, I had seen to it that Cece's bed was made, pillows nicely fluffed just how she liked it, and set out a silk nightgown and fresh undergarments for her to wear when she returned. I ordered the passing maid Jaenassa to fill up her baths, and to have it scented with rose oil. The maid did so without complaint, but with a look of mere displeasure at being ordered around in the middle of a job, but it was not her place to disagree. Perhaps I was abusing my right of authority, or perhaps I was just utilising it, seeming as I couldn't be bothered to do much more else for her myself.

Just as my eyes begin to droop from sheer exhaustion, I hear a flap of paper and crane my neck to see a sealed letter slide under my door.

Grumbling at the inconvenience, I stood up and stretched my legs, taking the letter off the ground.

The contents of the letter must have been of significant importance to have been delivered this late in the eve. I flipped the envelope in my tired and clumsy fingers, surprised to see my father's insignia pressed into the red hallmark. If it was truly written from my father's own hand, then this letter was of the utmost importance indeed. He rarely wrote to me otherwise, and if so, it was only regarding the most formal aspects of my life. I took a deep breath.