Collaterals

With the Grace of the Empire

The maidservant had been quick with her, helping Leila into a dress of white silk, and layering it with a gown of a deep green, like a leaf of an ancient tree. The gown itself was one Leila was fond of, letting the air run against the skin of her shoulder, exposed through the square cut-outs on the sides of the gown. The sleeves, though coming down to her wrist, were loose fitting, so that her silver bracelets peaked from underneath the fabric whenever she moved. The Maidservant had braided only the top of her head, so that the rest of her hair flowed down her back in cascades, angled curls left over from the confines of her earlier braid. Leila had asked her not to brush them out, looking in the mirror admiringly. Some of her hair was over her shoulder, now, and she liked the way it felt as she stood in front of the Empress's quarters.

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Leila of Aradia, Hand of the Empire."

She gave a deep courtesy as soon as she entered the room, head bowed respectfully. The Empress's quarters were the largest in the Hand's Build, where Leila and the other Four lived: just a short horse ride from the Emperor's Palace. The quarter's were on the top floor, and had a balcony that rivaled some smaller peasant houses in its space; the morning sun finally peaked from behind the clouds so that a gentler light shown through the space. Her ladies-in-waiting were seated around her on cushions of silk and velvet atop a carpeted ground. The Empress lounged on a couch, legs spread in front of her as she sipped on what was likely some brewed coffee. She set it down as soon as Leila entered, sitting up, "My dearest Lyanna has come: leave us."

Lyanna. Not Leila. The Empress had a name for each of them. Qadan she called Cadie; Davu, David; Arun, Arron; Vichama, Victor. And, of course, Leila, she called Lyanna. Unless she was angry with her. Then she called her by her given name. Leila stood still as the ladies-in-waiting moved past her. Though she could not remember a time when the Empress used her given name with love, she could remember a great many games of hide-and-seek, lullabyes sung against the boom of thunder, afternoons spent dunking biscuits in tea. That was back when the very same ladies-in-waiting would bow to precious little Lyanna, before the other Four came, one after the other, and the Empress had one too many second-borns to look after. Eventually, they'd been moved to the Hand's Build, and only the servants bowed, as they did to most anyone. 

Only when the door shut behind them did the Empress stand. Leila looked down as the older woman moved towards her. It was not until she put two fingers underneath Leila's chin that Leila looked into her green eyes.

"It has been a while since we spent time alone, my child."

Leila gave a small smile as she nodded.

Once, in childhood, Leila had made the mistake of calling her mother. The Empress had grabbed her shoulders— with more strength in her grip than little Leila had known one could have— and spoken sternly:

You are not to call me that, child. Do you understand? You are never to call me that.

And Leila never again did. Her cheeks burned red as echos of the memory rang through the back of her mind; she was quick to collect herself, "Yes, Your Majesty."

The Empress leaned her head to the side lovingly as she looked to Leila, "Oh how you've grown. I see the makings of a woman slowly seeping into your features."

Leila beamed, raising her chin slightly so that her posture was straight, proper, as befitting that of a Princess.

"Oh, but..." the Empress's smile turned sour as her hands moved to the hair still sat on Leila's shoulder, twirling a curl through her fingers. The corners of Leila's mouth fell down, clasping her hands tightly behind her back. She should have let her maidservant take a comb to her hair. Now she'd displeased the Empress. Again.