The Way We Fall

Chapter 31 (Tigris)

TW: Mild body horror, weaponry, violence

There was someone in her room.

It was the first thought to greet Tigris as she came to consciousness. Before she could string together a thought, her hand was curling around the gun on her bedside table. Tigris launched herself out of bed, chilly morning air caressing her skin as she pointed the gun at the intruder.

"FREEZE!" Tigris bellowed, her bleary eyes still focussing. The figure yelped, and the sound was annoyingly familiar. A crash accompanied the sound, something metal falling to the ground.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Roche shouted back, hands raised defensively, "Put the gun down! I swear you royals like giving me a heart attack."

"Roche?" Tigris quickly placed the gun back on her bedside table, rubbing her face. Roche's furious face came into focus. The girl's normally dream-like brown eyes were sharp with more anger than terror. She glared at the barrel of Tigris' gun accusingly

Tigris' cheeks warmed. "What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded, well aware that she was wearing nothing but a simple shift embroidered with frilly lace. Roche grimaced. She was wearing her old, torn rose gown that had clearly been mended down the front. Tigris' stomach flipped with guilt as she noticed the crude stitching. Her guilt only intensified when she noticed the upended metal tray of food laying on the ground.

"I'm here to wake you up. Seems like you didn't need help with that, though." Roche answered, her cheeks noticeably flushed. She raised an eyebrow at Tigris. "Did you forget that I'm your handmaiden?"

Tigris groaned, smoothing down her tangled hair. Right. Roche had saved her life.

Weak, measly little Roche.

She wasn't living that down anytime soon.

"Of course I remembered!" Tigris snapped, embarrassment flooding her cheeks. Roche smirked, bending to salvage what remained of Tigris' breakfast.

"Right," Roche drawled. Tigris' cheeks heated more. She turned away.

"Get out."

"No can do, my lady." How did Roche manage to infuse so much sarcasm into such an important title? "Apparently one of my tasks as a handmaiden is to prepare you for the day."

"I can manage." Tigris said tightly, "Now leave."

And Roche did leave, smirking all the while. Tigris realised why when she was brushing her teeth and heard the gentle patter of Roche's footsteps darting through the room. She repressed a groan and headed back out into her chambers.

"What are you doing?" Tigris snapped, watching Roche flitter from window to window, tying back the large, draping curtains.

"Letting in some light. Your breakfast is on your study." Roche called over her shoulder. Her lips were pursed as she made a lopsided bow to tie back the nearest curtain. Tigris facepalmed.

"You're doing that wrong."

"How would you know?"

"I've seen it done my entire life by more competent, temporary maids!" Tigris snapped shortly, storming over. She pushed Roche out of the way with her hip, correcting the bow. She ignored Roche's fascinated gaze as she fixed the curtains. When she was on the last one, she heard a gentle scritching sound. She turned to find Roche writing out something on a sheet of paper. "Are you taking notes?"

Roche blinked owlishly. "How else will I improve?"

Tigris groaned. "Listen. Just get out of here and go back to the library and do... whatever it was you did before becoming a maid. I can handle myself."