Reining Red

Chapter Five

Amelia spent much more of her time with Timothy after that.

***

Suddenly, this dark world she was trapped in seemed a whole lot brighter. Even the Chef couldn't dampen her mood, despite her furious yells. She was frequently scolded for day dreaming, and going missing during the middle of her shift.

Of course, she wasn't really missing. She was with Timothy, whether they were talking in front of the fire or locked in one another's embrace, she was completely and utterly head-over-heels in love, and she only wished it hadn't taken her so long to realise.

But there was something lurking deep inside of her, something dark and jealous. She spent sleepless nights trying to convince herself that Timothy's love was enough for her, enough to satisfy and extinguish her old longing for riches, but as the nights got longer and the days darker, this poisonous thing inside her began to grow, larger and larger.

Angrier.

***

The princess continued to dine with the duchess, and Amelia continued to serve her food. Her attitude bugged Amelia, how could she not be thankful for what she had? Nothing satisfied that princess. The dinners were too peppery for her, the table settings too white; she was unable to appreciate different cultures, pepper was a delicacy in the White Palace.

It was a Monday evening, and Amelia was carrying a tea tray up to the duke, who was bedridden with a terrible cold. She decided to take a short cut through the west wing, where the guest rooms were kept fresh and clean.

Her shoes sank into the thick carpet, and she held the silver tray steady between her pale fingers. The hallway was quiet, as the few guests the palace was housing were preparing for dinner. Suddenly, one of the white-wash doors burst open, and the Red Queen and Princess flew out.

"I hate it here!" Screamed the princess, so much so that the cutlery on Amelia's tray began to shake violently, "I demand to go home!"

"Don't make such a scene!" The queen replied, much quieter, much more level headed, "you don't realise just how lucky you are, girl, so go back in there and get dressed for dinner!"

The princess was wearing her bed robe. She shot Amelia a surprised look, which quickly evolved into a look of hatred.

"Leave me be, you absolute...you cow!" And with that, the princess slammed her door.

The old queen stood startled, her eyes like pale plates. Her gaze fell onto Amelia, and she wrung her wrinkled hands nervously.

"Speak of this," she said, quietly, threateningly, waving an old finger in Amelia's face, "to no one."

"Yes, your majesty," Amelia said with a small curtsey, before running off down the hall.

***

The duke's quarters were so busy, Amelia found herself wondering how he could obtain rest. Cleaners worked hard to sterilise various objects in his living room, and a group of healers were barking madly in the corner, arguing over which cures to give to the duke. A musician tried his best to keep the mood calm by playing a large, golden harp in the corner of the room, but his tune was lost over the meaningless blabber of the occupants. Amelia made her way to the duke's bedroom, and knocked quietly on his door.

"Come in," sounded a frail voice from the other side.

The duke was sitting up, leaning back on many fine feathered pillows. The room, unsurprisingly, was white, but the duke's gold skin glowed quite finely against his pearl bed sheets. He did not seem ill, but his voice was hoarse and his eyes tired.

Amelia set his dinner down on the table next to him, and turned to leave. "Wait," he said, "I have had no company but those of doctors all day, whose medical terms mean nothing to me. Let me speak with you for a while, you seems more human than them."

She nodded shyly and hid her surprise. The duke was handsome, but he was in his thirties and Amelia did not see the appeal.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Amelia, your highness."

The duke nodded and closed his eyes, as if he liked the sound her name made. "My name is Hansel. I do not like it, it is my father's name."

"Mine was my grandmother's."

He nodded again. "You and your grandmother are lucky. The name has a ring to it, like a small bell, a small, silver bell."

"Not to be rude, your highness, but you seem to be talking nonsense," Amelia interjected politely.

This time, the duke shook his head. "That is not nonsense. If you think that is nonsense, then you have not heard true nonsense. Tell me, Amelia, how is a raven like a writing desk?"

Amelia sat, shocked and puzzled. "I-I don't know, your highness."

"That is because I am talking nonsense. Now, begone, and thank you for the tea."

Amelia crossed the room and closed the door softly behind her. She rushed out of his quarters, desperate to spend no more time amongst the loud healers and that terrible musician, and the confusing duke.

With only ten minutes until she had to serve dinner to the rest of the inhabitants, she detoured through the guest's chambers once more, and paused briefly at the princess' door to hear a quiet weeping from within.

Knowing that she could not let someone wallow in sadness without helping them, Amelia rapped her knuckles on the polished door, and when the princess did not reply, she entered cautiously.

The princess, still in her bed robe, was curled into a tight ball on the bed, blabbering like a baby.

Her head snapped up when the door clicked behind Amelia, and the crying ceased so quickly it was almost inhuman. She swung her legs over the bed and wiped away the remains of her tears. "Oh," she stated, impolitely, "its you."

"Its me, my lady," Amelia replied meekly. Now speaking to the princess, she calmed that jealous monster, and felt rather intimidated.

"And what do you want?" The princess demanded rudely.

Amelia took several steps closer until the princess raised her great, black eyebrows. "I wish to comfort you, my lady."

"Comfort me? Ha!" Her voice had risen so suddenly, Amelia gave a small jump of surprise. The princess rose from her bed, her robe brushing against her ankles, and advanced towards Amelia. "No one can comfort me! No one understands, no one gets me! They think they can do what they want with me," she was nose to nose with her now, and her voice dropped significantly. "But they can't. I am the future queen, and I will not tolerate their foolishness."

Amelia hesitated. "This may come as a shock to you, my lady, but I understand perfectly."

The princess' eyes roamed up and down Amelia's short figure, as if sizing her up. "Take a seat, servant."

Amelia sat on the edge of a white, plush armchair, and the princess retreated to her bed. "Explain yourself, girl."

Explain is what Amelia did. She told the princess about her witch of mother, who left her without word or warning, about the Chef who would order her around all day, telling her what to do and when she can go out and when she can't. She spoke passionately about her love for the palace, but how it seemed that the palace held no love for her back. She opened up her heart to the princess, and for once, the spoilt girl in the bed robe seemed interested in something that the palace had to offer.

When Amelia finished, the princess stared at her hands, and spoke quietly; "I-I lost a chamber maid on the way here, the Jabberwocky, he devoured her in one. You interest me so, little maid, I shall pull some strings on the matter."

Amelia nodded politely, and turned the knob on the door.

"You deserve more, you have made me realise," the princess announced, barely a whisper. "We all do."