The Most Beautiful Eyes Ch 02

It was a square piano of mahogany and satinwood. Muriel was sitting on a little bench. Her fingers were pressing all the keys she thought were necessary. The deep, thoughtful tones came from the piano almost as beautifully as steam. There was a book of sheet music to guide her. She was grateful for that. She didn't know all the songs in the world.

They were in the music room, a place full of instruments and related things.

Some feet away from Muriel, Princess Arya sat on a comfy couch. Muriel knew she was being judged quite harshly. That was fair, all part of the process. When the song was done, Muriel pushed her bench away and moved to face the princess. Then she curtsied.

Two fast claps of her palms, and the princess stood up. "That was pleasant enough. Now come with me. I might as well show you some of the rooms here."

What proceeded was something like a tour, or a slice of one. Muriel was shown several grand rooms and told seemingly trivial facts. She tried to remember as many of these facts as possible. After that, Princess Arya took her to a library, and it was a pretty large room.

"I'd fancy a some reading before lunch," the princess said, and that was that. The women read in the library, or rather, Muriel wandered around to see if she could gather as many books as possible to read at a later date while the princess focused on one book. A servant took the books Muriel picked out and promised to put them in her room. Then someone announced that lunch was ready.

They went into a dining room, one of several. This one wasn't formal, but it was lovely. The walls had no plaster. They were allowed to show off their gray and brown bricks and stones. Muriel sat across from the princess at a medium sized table as they ate pickled eggs, fried beet slices, and roasted radishes.

When they were full, the women went to a large window in the sitting room they first had tea in. Maids came with even more tea in a different tea set. This one was bright yellow with silver geometric designs. Muriel poured tea for the princess first and then for herself. This tea was green and bitter. It looked even more sickly inside the yellow cups. Muriel honestly didn't like the taste, but she took it well.

Snowflakes began falling from the sky outside. Good thing the tea was hot. There was even a plate of snacks for them, dried fish, which actually made the tea taste a little nicer. The princess remarked on how she hated the snow, no matter how beautiful it was.

"Every year feels colder to me," she said with pure acid in her voice. Then she sucked some air between her teeth, blinked a few times, and spoke again but with a much lighter tone. "Even so, if you want to have a walk in the snow, I won't mind, but I won't join you. I'll stay right here, where the fires are fed and the tea's burning my tongue. That's how I prefer my winters."

Some time for herself? How lovely! But Muriel wanted to know something first. She quietly said to Princess Arya, "Your Highness, I hope you'll forgive me if this question seems impolite."

The princess rolled her eyes. "Go on and ask the question so I can judge it for myself."

"I've heard that His Highness, the master of this castle, is unwell and bedridden. Is this true?"

Princess Arya took an oddly long sip of her tea, quiet and methodical, her eyes closing as if she was trying to decompress her mind. Then her eyes opened and sharpened, but Muriel couldn't exactly believe that those brown eyes were seeing her own blue-gray ones. The princess wasn't likely seeing her.

Those cocoa fingers lowered the princess' yellow cup to its saucer.

She inhaled and exhaled rather dramatically.

The brown eyes closed.

Opened.

And became very, very motherly.

"My son is quite ill." Her words were slower, milder, and almost lethargic. For a moment, Muriel wondered if someone had drugged her. That thought had Muriel's breath arresting itself. What if someone poisoned the princess and thought to blame her, the new companion?! What if this was all some complicated political trap that she was only a small part of?!

"Your ... Your Highness?" Muriel reached over and let her hand cup over the darker one that held the cup's handle. "Are you feeling well?"

Her black eyelashes fluttered and her lips slackened.

But then her face tightened back up. She looked ... happy. She even seemed more youthful.

A wonderful smile was on her face.

"I'm going to visit him!" She brushed Muriel's hand away and put her tea down. "I hope I didn't worry you. I was feeling a spoonful of wretchedness, but I'm quite energized now." She stood up and smoothed out the parts of her skirts she could reach. "I'm going to have a chat with him. You're excused for the rest of the day."

Muriel's pale eyebrows shot up her face, but she was relieved to see that the princess was well. "Would you like for me to accompany you?"

"No, no, Muriel. You have no reason to go to his chambers. Simply enjoy yourself."

The princess just ... walked off and started humming to herself.

Muriel didn't know why her mood had changed so quickly, but she was glad to know that nothing seemed to be wrong with her.

***

Attentiveness was required here. She was in a world of people she didn't trust, not that she trusted many people. Her eyes were always looking around for anything suspicious or even dangerous.

But she still talked to herself, mostly about unrelated things. It made her feel better.

"Some birds don't sing in cages."

"Potato cheesecake is quite lovely with white wines, isn't it?"

"I hope Papa's well."

"Will it snow for much longer?"

"I wonder what's for dinner."

"Can dogs and goats become friends?"

"Fairy stones are actually very disgusting when one truly considers their nature."

Muriel had her cloak, a pair of gloves, and her muff as she walked around a frigid garden. The visible plants were bare and dormant. The cobblestone pathway she walked on had a fine layer of snow that had yet to be swept away by any servants. Most everything else on the ground was buried under layers of whiteness.

Her mind clicked and ached as she kept talking, and she was very careful not to talk about her most dangerous thoughts.

Something was terribly incorrect in this castle.

Why had Princess Arya sent so many companions away? What flaws did she see in them?

How long would it take for her to send Muriel away?

Would she have Muriel beaten?

Muriel would have wondered if the princess was a serial killer, but as far as she knew all the previous companions had been sent home. Nobody was murdered.

She sighed. Her breath floated along in a misty shape.

This was an odd place to be in.

She happened to notice someone. She stopped rambling to herself.

There was a tall man a few feet ahead. He was wearing a long, dark blue cloak and a matching hat. With a slight tilt of his head, the man paused and looked at Muriel as if she was a pretty little flower that had managed to survive the winter, surprised and delighted.

Muriel walked up to him and curtsied. "Good afternoon, Sir."

The man gave a short bow. "Good afternoon. I haven't seen you before. Are you the princess' new companion?" He was somewhat handsome, straight brown hair with a square face and warm green eyes.

"Yes, Sir. I'm Muriel Devin."

"Ah. It's good to meet you. I'm Doctor Aron Bergson."

Muriel thought that doctors were the sort of people one should never betray. They knew how to kill and make it look like an illness. She kept herself even more humble than when she was with the princess. "It's a pleasure, Sir. Do you live here?"

His smile was warm. "Yes, Miss. I live here, and when anyone's ill or injured I tend to them."

"Oh, then you must be a very busy man."

The doctor's round nose twitched. "Yes. The prince is very ill."

Even though Muriel didn't know this prince, she was curious about his condition. But she also knew that she had little to no business asking about it. Thus, she only said to the doctor, "I hope His Highness recuperates soon. I imagine the Princess would be much happier if her son was healthy again."

"She would, Miss," Doctor Bergson said with an oddly confident nod. "She's a loving and attentive mother."

Muriel's fingers wiggled inside her muff and gloves. She tapped some of her teeth with her tongue. The doctor likely didn't notice any of that, however. "Doctor, may I ask, are you married?"

He shook his head. His hair seemed to be in a single braid running down his nape. "I'm far too consumed with my occupation to have a wife."

"But certainly a wife would appreciate a husband with regular income."

"Just the same, I shouldn't marry." At this moment, both of them were dusted with snow. "I need to leave you, Miss. I hope you won't mind."

Assuming he needed to go past her, Muriel stepped aside. "Don't let me keep you, Sir."

"Goodbye, Miss Devin," the man said as he passed her, some snow falling from his shoulders and hat, his boots' heels grinding on the pathway.

The doctor appeared to be pleasant enough, but Muriel knew better than to rely on him. She could only rely on herself.

***

The following days were pretty dull. At least they weren't difficult. She didn't have any chores whatsoever. The most taxing duties she had were pouring tea, playing music, writing boring letters dictated by her mistress, and reporting messages to high ranking servants.

Princess Arya still gave a brutal statement every now and then, but some of her statements weren't directed towards Muriel. The princess seemed to be a painfully honest kind of person, uncaring of people's feelings as long as she was able to give what she thought to be the truth. Sometimes, Muriel thought she actually agreed with the princess, but she didn't want to admit that to anyone.

One morning, however, there was a minor disagreement.

Princess Arya wanted to have some furniture carried out of storage and taken to a reception room that was almost never used. Muriel watched with the princess as a few men laid the tables out for their perusal.

"This one's darling," the princess said as she stepped toward a small table with a drawer and four thin legs. "There's a lovely floral scroll here on the drawer."

Muriel was looking at a different table, a long one made of white walnut wood. It wasn't ornate, and it seemed a little bit old, scratched, and chipped, but the legs were thick and sturdy. Those legs were connected by an H-shaped bar. The tabletop was also very sturdy. Muriel imagined that three people could safely put their backsides on the thing and be very stable.

"What's claimed your attention, Muriel?"

"Hm?" Muriel looked up to the princess. The roots of her hair were showing a hints of gray. Muriel had recently figured out that she used dye to keep her hair completely black. The princess would likely dye her roots soon.

Princess Arya floated on over to Muriel's side. Only the tapping of her heels gave away the fact that she had feet. Whenever she had a quicker pace, though, Muriel could always see her shoes. She had very nice shoes. "Muriel," she said quietly, as if she was slowly having a revelation but didn't want to accept it, "what do you think of this ugly table?" Her fingers were tightly lacing together. Her face was impassive.

One of Muriel's parched palms slid over the walnut tabletop's uneven surface. "A table is meant to bear weight, and this table might serve its owner very well." She gave the surface a good thwack, making a heavy noise. "This is a fine table. I'd love to have it in the kitchen in my home."

"Is that true, Muriel?"

Did she offend her mistress? Muriel hoped not. Her face flushed as she removed her hand from the table. "I do fancy this table, Your Highness."

"Then you may keep it."

"Excuse me?" Muriel's eyes rose to look at the princess' eyes. They were very calm, like smooth chocolates.

"This is a gift, Muriel." Princess Arya said. "I'll have the men put the table in your room. Should you leave this castle and return to your family, you may take the table with you."

"Oh." Muriel curtsied. "Thank you very much, Your Highness. You're quite generous."

"No, I'm already tired of the thing and I'd like to be rid of it."

Muriel didn't actually want the table, but she thought refusing the gift would be unwise. She didn't believe the princess was being generous. She believed there was an ulterior motive. She didn't know what that was, but it must have existed.

***

Muriel soon learned that Princess Arya was an amateur painter. There was a whole studio arranged just for her. Most of the paintings were landscapes.

Muriel sat in the studio with the princess one morning as she sipped a cup of fruity black tea and nibbled on small cakes with powdered sugar. The princess was drawing a sketch on some paper, but Muriel wasn't interested in it. She couldn't even say what the princess was drawing.

The women had some light conversation. They both tended to talk about the most uninteresting things for the most part. The conversation was interrupted, however, when the princess asked, "Could I trouble you for an opinion?"

Setting down a partially eaten cake, Muriel gently warned her, "I'm no artist, Madam."

Princess Arya's temporarily stained fingers tilted up at Muriel. "You're not overloaded with anything. Come and look at my sketch."

"Yes, Your Highness." Muriel got up from her seat and casually walked over to the princess. She looked down at the sketch.

That ... was ... not a landscape.

Muriel's eyes popped.

It looked like a corpse with its skin peeled back falling into a pit of contorted nude bodies.

Muriel blinked and ignored her own reaction. She shrugged. "This seems to have been drawn well."

"It is too painful to see?" the princess asked as if that was the most normal question in the world.

"Perhaps ... but that doesn't meant you shouldn't sketch whatever you wish." Muriel retreated a bit more. "I ... I don't feel outraged. I only feel pity for all those victims, even though they're imaginary."

Moving her pencil aside, coldly eyeing her sketch, the princess said, "That's an appropriate emotion, isn't it?"

"Yes, Madam." Muriel went back to her seat and took more of her tea.

When the princess tired of her sketching and painting, she had her hands washed and took Muriel to the music room for some entertainment. The princess played a tune with a flute while Muriel worked with the now practically assigned piano. It was a nice time.

Unfortunately, the castle's butler hurried into the room and interrupted them. "I'm terribly sorry, Your Highness, but we have a problem that requires your judgment."

Holding her flute in the air, the princess turned to the butler and asked, "What sort of problem?"

The butler said, "A maid seems to have been caught stealing. The golden dagger was found under her bed."

"Under her bed?" repeated the princess. She put her flute on a table. Strangely, there wasn't any anger in her face. "Find my cane and bring the maid here as soon as possible."

"Yes, Your Highness," the butler answered before leaving.

Princess Arya rose and made a light gesture towards Muriel. "Up, Muriel, stand up. We have a show coming."

Muriel obeyed. There was a concerned little crinkle between her eyebrows. "A maid stole a golden dagger?"

"That might be the case," the princess said, "but I must ask a few questions. The golden dagger is a piece of art that normally hangs over my favorite fireplace. One must wonder, dear companion, why in the world someone would be foolish enough to steal something that would be so easily missed."

With a slowly growing smile and a nod of her head, Muriel said, "That's a fine thing to think of, Madam. You're very clever."

"And you're a little sycophant." The princess actually winked at her! "I expect nothing less from you."

Muriel just couldn't be angry. She absolutely couldn't. "Pay me enough and I'll give you every compliment in the world."

Some more minutes passed on, and then the butler returned, holding a thick cane with a gem encrusted handle. Behind him was the housekeeper, Radine Cardon, and two men holding the arms of a frightened looking maid with black hair. They brought her before the princess while Radine held up an ornamental looking dagger made of gold. Muriel took the dagger with cautious fingers. Then she put it on a table near the princess and waited for the next scene to play.

Princess Arya coldly asked Radine, "Where was this dagger found?"

"Inside Mara's room, Your Highness," Radine answered with a curtsy.

"And Mara is the maid here?"

"That's so, indeed," Radine said. She had a very unhappy expression.

"Precisely where was this dagger found? Behind something?"

Radine shook her head. "It was found under Mara's bed."

Princess Arya's head moved to one side as her clean fingernails tapped each other. "Each servant has their own chest of private belongings, do they not?"

"Yes we do, Mistress," Radine said.

"These chests even have locks with keys, is that correct?"

Radine nodded. "Yes."

"Assuming a maid would steal anything, it would be prudent to keep the stolen object in her chest, wouldn't it?" The princess' head returned to its straight position. Muriel was starting to understand her logic.

Radine gasped and put one of her old hands to her mouth. Then she said with a surprised voice, "That's a vital detail!"

Just then, someone knocked on the room's exit door. "Pardon me?! I have something urgent to report!"

The princess called out, "Enter!!"

The man that came into the room was Doctor Aron Bergson. He had a dignified gray coat with wide sleeves. He wasn't wearing a hat. His brown hair was loose and free around his shoulders. He walked up to the princess and bowed, holding out a folded paper.

Princess Arya took the paper and held it in such a way so that nobody else could read whatever might be written there. Her eyes moved back and forth, going across the message. Then she walked over to a fireplace, where a swirling fire was keeping everyone from freezing to death. She put the paper into the fire, where it was savagely yet quietly consumed.

Without turning, the princess said, "Bring Hattie Pan here."

The butler immediately obeyed. He leaned the cane against a wall and left the room.

Some time later, during which Mara the scared maid tried to plea but was stopped by Radine, the butler appeared again with his hand around the arm of another maid. She had blonde hair and lots of freckles on her cheeks. He put her near Mara and her captors and released her arm.

Princess Arya turned around then. She was grimacing. "Hattie Pan, where you last night, just before dinner?"

That blonde maid answered with a straight face, "I was dusting the railing in the foyer."

"Did anyone see you?"

Hattie's posture wilted a little. "Ah ... well ... I don't know."

Princess Arya's head moved back and forth very subtly as she looked down at Hattie. She didn't look away as she ordered, "Release Mara."

Mara was allowed to stand by herself. Almost stupidly, she blinked and gaped at everyone.

Princes Arya spoke to Hattie again. "You sleep beside Mara, correct?"

Both Mara and Hattie nodded.

And the Princess said very quietly, "What if I were to tell you, Hattie, that you have been seen stealing the golden dagger?"

"What?" Hattie was shaking her head. "No, I ... I swear! Mara stole it! I saw her do it!"

That statement didn't matter, it seemed, because the princess walked over to her cane.

Muriel held her breath.

"Hold her down," the princess said.

The struggling Hattie was held very well.

Princess Arya then beat Hattie's back and backside many, many times.