Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Chapter 134: Ch. 133: Welcome Banquet

If there’s one thing that has never changed between my two lives, it’s the sound of a party. The clinking glasses, the constant hum of chatter, and the occasional laugh that climbs above all the noise, the sounds are eternal and transcend time.

I, however, most certainly am not. My godlike powers only serve as a reminder of my mortality. I have died once after all, in the pinnacle of my youth. By some crazy factor of bad luck, I have reincarnated as a princess. But I may still die once again when I turn 16 if Julian was right.

“You look beautiful,” a voice that has tormented my nightmares for years says behind me.

“Thank you, Mother,” I reply in monotone. The backs of my calves grow itchy with remembrance.

The imperial family stands behind the closed doors of the throne room, which is traditionally used for banquets with foreign dignitaries as it displays the full grandeur of the one thousand-year-old Erudian dynasty. Empress Katya looks calm and dignified as if she hasn’t been caught up in the ongoing investigation and scandal of what “Julia” did during the hunt. The rumors were personally fanned by me, taking to the street like wildfire and becoming even more colorful than before.

The entire “family” is here, lined up like ducks in a row, except for Julia. It starts with my father, then Augustus, then Julian, myself, and Empress Katya, who requires the distance from the emperor’s aura. Even in the darkened hallway before the throne room, the same hallways I once anxiously awaited my fate as a prospective princess, the imperial family’s finery glitters.

The fancy aiguillette that threads around the shoulders of my brothers and father shimmer in the darkness, along with the jewelry and gold thread intricately added to both the empress’ and my attires. Banquets with foreign dignitaries come with a set of rules unique to the typical balls and festivities oft held within the palace.

.....

We are no longer just people, we become a symbol that has existed long before we were born and shall continue long after we have died. As heralds play into trumpets and the doors open, everyone within the banquet halls bow. And it’s easy to understand why so many people have fought and died to stand where my father does today.

“His Majesty the Emperor has arrived! Her Majesty the Empress has arrived! May the light of the imperial family forever shine upon the empire!” As required by law, the emperor and empress must be introduced first before the children.

Tables have been erected in the sprawling space between the doors and the throne itself, which has been lowered from it’s elevated platform to the center of the long tables.

My father gives a brief welcome address to everyone invited while Amir tosses me a not-so-subtle wink from where he’s seated. The Aidelish formal costume is truly a work of art, a colorful breath of fresh air from the stiff fabrics and military uniforms that are commonplace here.

But I ignore him, allowing a gentle PR smile to overtake my face as my father finishes up with a toast. Elias watches from a few tables away, so enraptured by his every word that my PR smile becomes a real one as raucous applause erupts.

“To the prosperity of the empire and to all our territories, we drink!” As stern and terrifying as he is, my father has unmistakable charisma. He raises his glass high in the air and the others echo as the sounds of merrymaking carry on as if never interrupted.

But the empress still watches him, faint traces of infatuation evident before she too takes a delicate sip from her glass. Love? Romantic love? I never would’ve thought that the empress was capable of such. However, the person who was watching my father right now wasn’t an empress, just Katya, a girl in love.

I have to take a sip of my drink as well to keep myself from breaking into incredulous guffaws.

There is only myself to blame for not recognizing it earlier. Although to be fair, there have been very few occasions where the emperor and empress are in close proximity of one another in this way and a majority of them occur when I’ve had bigger fish to fry.

Even now, I feel like I’ve been put in a cage with a beast. And sure enough, once those doting eyes trail away from the emperor, they land on me. There is no rage, just curiosity. Like a cat that has been enticed to chase around a mouse.

“The speech was good,” my stiff lips manage to utter, stabbing at the awkwardness between us.

“Yes, it was.” She takes another sip from her glass. “It was most surprising to me how an emperor so skilled at warfare could also have the tongue of a politician.”

She is not talking about the emperor. She is talking about me.

“Sometimes circumstance begets talent,” I reply swiftly. Her many punishments of the past have taught me well.

“So I’ve seen,” the empress muses. There is a light shining in her eyes, one that makes me uncomfortable. She is far too calm for someone whose reputation has been splashed in mud and whose daughter is being condemned in court by the pro crown prince faction. That is never a good sign. It makes me want to pry open her head and see what she knows for her to be so calm.

Thankfully, the food is brought out swiftly, allowing me to free myself from this conversation. My eyes go across the room, taking note of who is who and where they are seated. But my attention is seduced away before long, drawn to the inconspicuous servants who linger along the walls and only leave to refill a glass or remove a plate.

The nobility have a habit of ignoring the “help”, a classist notion that persevered even in my past life where people treated my mother like she was invisible when she was working lower-income jobs in my youth. This is to their detriment of course. The number of affairs or paraphernalia my mother discovered in those days was pretty impressive.

So even if it weren’t for my rough induction into princesshood, I’d still have a sharp eye on those who serve in the palace. Even the little slip of paper handed to Sir Jasper isn’t missed by me. The mammoth of a man fake coughs into his hand, taking the time to subtly read whatever the note said, before tossing it into his soup and carrying on eating as usual.

Interesting.

I look at Augustus, but he’s knee-deep in a conversation about lobsters with one of the Aidelish envoys. But Julian is a sharp bastard, he winks at me and takes a sip of his soup after throwing a look in the direction of Sir Jasper. It’s a shame Augustus lacks that alertness and observation of Julian. But that comes with time and experience, both of which the crown prince lacks.

Sir Jasper politely excuses himself to the restroom and leaves.

My irritant of a brother also happens to be seated right beside me, allowing him to lean in and whisper, “Will you follow, or will you stay? I’m quite curious myself what was written on that note.”

“Shut up.” I’m never in the mood to interact with him after the prison break fiasco, but with today’s nerves, I am even less inclined to exchange words with the golden-haired upstart.

Julian personally mentioning this topic also puts me off from investigating. Never mind his carefree appearance, every word he says is calculated towards some goal of his. If he really wanted the throne, I’m sure he’d have worked out a way to get it even with our father’s enormous preference for Augustus.

So what on earth has got Julian’s attention these days?

“What are you up to these days?” I ask innocuously as if I didn’t tell him to shut his trap a moment before.

“Oh, so now you deign to speak to me,” Julian drawled, serving me a hearty helping of side eye. There is an unmistakable flicker of anger in his eyes, which is funny since between the two of us I’m the one who should be mad.

“Fine. Just pretend I didn’t say anything,” I snort.

“Fine!” We both simultaneously snub each other and turn away. Our minor spat must look comical to onlookers, but I don’t care as I aggressively drink up my tasteless soup. It needs a lot more salt and pepper.

I can’t help but find his actions strange today, it was almost as if we are real siblings. Julian runs a frustrated hand through his hair, ruining the careful waves, and something metal on his wrist flashes in the light. It looks like a charm of some sort, but he puts his arm down all too quickly for me to discern what it could be.

I pat my mother’s necklace absentmindedly, which is tend to wear very loosely around my neck so it isn’t visible outside my clothes.

Suddenly soup splashes onto my lap. The thick material of my skirt soaks it up before it can reach my skin, but as etiquette would dictate, I must leave and change immediately.

The culprit smiles at me, waving his spoon rather innocently. “Oops. My apologies, Winnie.”

“There will be payback,” I murmur low enough for him to hear. He must feel pleased that he’s made the choice to follow Sir Jasper for me. But the days of me being pushed around to someone else’s whims ended years ago.

A maid materializes by my side. “Your highness, I shall escort you to change your skirts.”

I sigh but silently allow her to lead me away. It’s a shame that the lovely dress Lady Arabella made for me must be changed so soon. But this is also why most women arrive to balls with an extra back up skirt or bodice in their carriage.

“Please take me to the lady’s room furthest from the throne room. I wish to walk a bit and stretch my legs.”

“Yes, your highness,” the maid answers, somehow managing to sound even more monotone than Emma. I smirk inwardly, patting myself on the back for being clever enough to put great distance between myself and wherever Sir Jasper has disappeared to. No matter what, there’s no way we should run into each other.

In the lady’s room, a faint pleasing aroma floats through the air as the maid diligently begins to unlace the back of my dress. For most formal dresses, the dresses tend come in two pieces so as to allow them to be easily worn and tailored. With the bodice loosened, the maid can finally take off the stained skirt and replace it with the second “emergency” skirt made.

“Your hands are steady,” I compliment, cutting through the dead silence. “What is your name?”

“Your highness is most kind to her servants,” a deep voice says, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. It’s a man’s voice, which only sends goosebumps running across my skin. The lady’s room is obviously off limits to any man, which already tells me that whoever entered cannot have good intentions.

“How improper,” I scold fiercely, not allowing my voice to tremble in the slightest as I look over my shoulder to see the very person I was aiming to avoid smiling at me.

I never even heard Sir Jasper walk through the door and yet his looming frame clearly stands between me and the exit.