The First Breakfast

On my first morning as Crown Princess, I woke before dawn.

My body ached.

I ignored it.

A wife of the royal house did not lounge in bed because of discomfort.

I rose, dressed, and personally helped Leon fasten his belt.

The maids moved quietly around us, preparing water, robes, and breakfast.

Leon watched me through the mirror.

There was approval in his eyes.

Not love.

Approval.

At the time, I thought approval was enough.

“Has Serena risen?” he suddenly asked.

My fingers paused on the clasp.

Only for a breath.

Then I finished fastening the belt.

A maid answered, “Her Highness has risen.”

Leon nodded.

“Invite her to breakfast.”

The room became very still.

I lowered my eyes.

I am the Crown Princess, I told myself.

I must be generous.

Leon took my hand and led me to the breakfast pavilion.

We waited.

The porridge cooled.

The tea lost steam.

I was hungry, but etiquette held me upright.

Leon grew impatient and sent a maid to hurry Serena along.

The maid returned alone.

Her face was pale.

“Your Highness,” she whispered, “Consort Serena said… she does not wish to dine with the Crown Prince and Crown Princess.”

My expression stiffened.

Before Leon could answer, the maid dropped to her knees and pressed her forehead to the ground.

“She also told this servant to get out.”

That maid was not from the Eastern Palace.

I recognized her then.

She had come from my mother’s household.

Clever girl.

She made Serena’s insult sound not merely personal to me, but disrespectful to Leon.

Leon’s face darkened for half a moment.

Then he sighed.

“She is throwing a little temper again.”

Again.

The word slid under my skin.

He waved the maid away.

“I understand. Go.”

Then he turned to me.

“You eat first. I will see what has upset her.”

Before I could reply, he was gone.

I sat alone before the cooling breakfast.

From the corridor beyond the pavilion, I heard servants whisper.

“Consort Serena refused the Crown Princess on the first morning?”

“What can anyone do? His Highness dotes on her.”

“The Crown Princess is pitiful.”

“Pitiful? Serena is the strange one. Wasn’t she the one shouting about one man, one woman, one lifetime? Yet she entered as a consort.”

“Hush.”

The maid who had reported Serena’s words stepped in front of me, as if her thin body could shield me from every whisper.

“Your Highness, do not listen to them.”

I looked at her.

“What is your name?”

She knelt.

“Celia, Your Highness. I served Her Grace, your mother, before coming with you.”

Celia.

I remembered the name.

At the time, I thought she would be useful.

Later, I would learn that useful people are often the most dangerous.

I picked up my spoon and ate the cold porridge.

That morning, I learned my first lesson of the Eastern Palace.

Humiliation could be swallowed.

If one swallowed slowly enough, no one would see the blood.