Dear Elise

Chapter 11

I spend a little time before and after breakfast helping out my maids with some stitching on one of my dresses. I'm actually becoming quite good at it, and it's a nice, peaceful way to pass the time.
It's always amusing, as well, to hear all the gossip from my maids as they work. I've never been around a group of people so constantly at home, so having my maids has been a new experience from the start.
Still, it's one I'm glad for. They've become close friends to me.

After they've brought some food to me from the kitchens, they all excuse themselves, saying that they have work to do.
Its strange, because they usually worry too much even when I'm not injured. I suppose they must be put at ease by the fact that Sam will arrive soon.
I did rather overestimate how early she would come.
It's just past ten when the knock finally comes at my door, anda smile spreads across my face.
"...who is it?"
I'm sure it's Sam, but I need to check.
"Who do you think it is, my lady?"
I can practically hear her eye roll. Still, as soon as I hear her voice I relax, calling out to her as calmly as I can despite the excitement fizzing in my chest.
"Oh, just come in, Sam."

She opens the door and strides over to me, that usual grin she does when she's messing with someone gracing her features.
"Well hey there, Lady Elise."
I raise my eyebrows at her. "Where's all this 'lady' stuff come from?"
She sits herself down on the edge of my bed, as I put the book I was attempting to read to the side.
"Well, I heard your maids talking."
Ah. So she's imitating the way my maids address me, then. But, the maids address us all like that.
"Don't your maids do that too?" I ask, frowning at her.
"Well, they used to. But it feels weird. They're like my friends, y'know?"
I nod in response. I get what she means, I've grown quite close to my maids, too.
"I suppose, you're right. I doubt there's any girl who's failed to become even the slightest bit close to them."

At my words, Sam's grin fades a little. Her voice is uncharacteristically quiet when she speaks.
"Well, my maids did say... Celeste. You know, that girl that hangs around with Bariel? They tell me she hits her maids..."
I stare at her silently in disbelief, and she sighs before continuing.
"She's horrible. She- well, I suppose you probably haven't heard, but Anna Farmer was sent home yesterday. She hit her."
I keep staring at her. "Celeste hit Anna?" That's the only explanation that makes sense. Anna was so meek, even in comparison to me, that I barely heard her speak. But Sam's reply shocks me.

"No. Anna hit Celeste."

It takes a second for the words to sink in, but before I have time to process them, she's speaking again.
"Celeste said something to her. I spoke to America and Marlee, and they're sure she was provoked. America said she saw Celeste whisper something in her ear right before that, and, to be honest, I wouldn't put it past her. Doing horrible things to hurt other contestants' chances."
A chill runs down my spine at her words. Doing horrible things to the other girls... I can't help but wonder if Celeste may be the reason I'm on bed rest. I don't want to worry her, but I start speaking anyway, my tone low and cautious. This feels like something I wouldn't want overheard, for some reason.
"There was glass in my shoes."
Sam looks confused, then she seems to get it. "Glass? Oh, is that how you got hurt?"
Her eyes widen. "Wait, you don't think Celeste could've-"

We slip into shocked silence.
It's a few minutes before I even reply.
"She couldn't. She wouldn't. Right...?"
Sam looks at me with an expression that's almost a glare.
"Have you met her? Of course she could." She jumps up angrily.
"I'm reporting this right now. She'll be gone before tomorrow morning!"
My eyes widen, and I reach out to grab her arm. I've never heard her sound this... angry.
She snaps round to look at me, surprise flashing across her features. I stare back at her for a moment, noticing how her cheeks are the same pale pink as my favourite type of rose. The colour is only emphasised by the freckles across her nose, which I'd never noticed before. I suppose they don't show up as much against her normal skin tone.

"Don't report it. We don't even know if it's actually her yet. And besides, we don't have any evidence, so you could get in trouble." My voice is firmer than usual. I won't have Sam getting into trouble for me.
She sighs, sitting back down.
"You have no backbone."
I smile at her, staying silent. What am I supposed to say? I really don't.
Thankfully, she seems to drop the topic, and comes back to sit on my bed with me. I tell her about how I'll be able to come to the history lesson tomorrow, as long as I stay seated as much as possible, and my maids pad my shoes with soft materials so they're not too hard on my injured feet. She seems glad that I'll be returning, though I'm not sure why. She has plenty of other friends.

And, though most of my mind is focused on the conversation, there's a little corner of it that can't help but notice the way she trailed her hand down my wrist to my hand and intertwined our fingers as she sat down. The way she taps her finger on my palm when she's really interested in what we're discussing makes me laugh. And even as we dissolve into giggles, she keeps a tight hold on my hand, glancing at me ever so often to check that I'm okay with it.
Of course I am. It makes me happy.