Which Witch || Aleksander Morozova

𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓷𝓮

East Ravka

—

"It won't be much longer now, Princess." one of the guards sitting in the coach with her speaks like a tin soldier.

Since Katerina's arrival in East Ravka three days ago, no one seems to be able to decide whether they're meant to refer to her as a Princess or as a Lady.

Not moving from where she leans against the side of the carriage, gazing boredly out the window at the passing landscape, she makes a small, disinterested sound of acknowledgement.

Time continues to tick by without amusement of any sort and Katerina decides that the guard is a liar. She hates sitting in carriages with nothing to do, so perhaps that's what's fuelling the thought, but this is definitely not what she'd define as 'not much longer'.

It's an hour that passes before she finally sees it: the gate. They've arrived. She perks up slightly, if only with a small rush of adrenaline as they ride into the capital.

She's never met her uncle, the king, nor his wife or his son, Vasily. While she's not sure what to expect, she is certain she can handle anything that might happen.

She's spent twenty years living in this world, but she still remembers her own like the back of her hand, like her own breath in her lungs. She remembers the stories she read, and after everything she's learned as a high lady, she knows the royal family – her family – will be all too easy to play.

But they aren't the only ones she's read about. They aren't the reason she's here. Her heart beats faster against her ribcage as they pass by the gates to the Little Palace, though the tall shrubbery mostly hides it from view from here.

The first time she lays eyes on the Grand Palace, she remembers the General's line from the first book about how hideous it is. Growing up the king's niece and the Duke's daughter, she's grown accustomed to grandeur, but even she must admit that he's right; this place is too much, too gaudy for her tastes.

With two guards at her back, she approaches a splay of steps leading up to the enormous page doors where a page awaits them. He's fiddling with something in his hands, but he snaps properly upright quicker than the naked eye could actually follow when he spots Katerina. He scrambles down the steps to meet them before bowing so low she was sure he'd lose his balance and plunge his nose into the ground. Anticlimactically, he does not.

"My Lady." he gushes. "It is such an honour."

She gives him a tiny practised smile and a nod. "Thank you."

"May I offer you my deepest condolences for your father-"

"Please don't." she replies flatly, maintaining her pleasant expression.

He freezes, evidently confused as he blinks at her several times.

"Would you be so kind as to take me to the King and Queen? They are expecting me."

Apparently abandoning his confusion, he nods quickly, giving another little bow of his head. "Of course, My L... Princess. Please, follow me."

She allows her eyes to wander as they make their way through the brightly decorated high-ceiling corridors. The decorating inside isn't quite so bad as the outside would imply. The wallpaper is quite nice, and the wide sprawling intersects give the place an open feel. However there is far too much gold for her taste. It's more like an eyesore than a display.

Her stride is somewhere between that of a noble lady and a soldier; head held high, shoulders back, back straight, and every step is purposeful and confident, as if she already owns every hall.