Again, speaking to herself, careful enough not to reveal any of her most distrustful feelings, but loose enough to let some minor honesty float in the air. All alone, wandering the halls, some free time before dinner.
Sometimes her mistress let her off so she could eat in her room if she wanted. Even during her free evenings, however, Muriel still ate with the princess, mostly because the alternative was lonely but also because she wanted to watch the princess as much as possible.
Who could say what was in the princess' mind?!
Still alone, admiring paintings and tapestries on the walls. The old family's portraits had been removed. New portraits, or rather, portraits of the princess and her family members were there. There were even some paintings of her siblings and parents, the now late king and still alive queen of Junjaia.
Muriel paused her walking and talking to look up at one painting. It was of the princess' mother from maybe five years ago, or at least that was what she remembered Princess Arya saying. That queen was so old, terribly old, not that Muriel had any problems with old people.
She said to herself, "Poor dear. She looks like she's melting, which means she might look even worse in person." She shrugged. "Well, I have no right to judge, now do I?"
"Hm hm hm hm!!"
Humming, muffled laughter?
What the ...?
Muriel whirled around as she tried to find the root of the noise, but she found nothing.
That wasn't her imagination, was it?
Muriel walked on and stopped at a portrait of two boys. These were the princes back when they were children. One was bigger than the other. The bigger boy had his breeches. The smaller boy was still in a dress. For practical reasons, the tiniest of boys often wore simple dresses instead of complex breeches.
They were adorable little boys!!
Their skin was only a bit lighter than their mother's. Their eyes were brown and sparkly. Their hair was black. They really did look like brothers. Muriel grinned up at the painting and said, "Oh, what sweet little bobbins they are!"
She moved to the next painting. It was of a young man, probably one of the brothers. She didn't know which one. The man was standing in front of a tall lattice nearly coated by vines and flowers. His hat was in his hand, black with gold details and a white feather. His coat and matching breeches were a dusty pink color with silver and gold embroidery forming dandelions and leaves. His waistcoat was a pale gray. His cheeks were sharp. His chin and jaw were strong. His hair was loose and black.
Such a handsome man!
Muriel actually blushed.
But she didn't want to say anything about it.
She mumbled to herself about how pretty dandelions are and went down the halls. Then she stopped again because she realized she was lost. She groaned and slapped her own brow. It was time to find a servant and ask for help.
***
The women were working on colorful embroidery again. This time, Muriel was finishing up a small image of flowers in a wreath. The Princess brought up the time of year. "There isn't as much snow. It won't be long before the Capital Season arrives."
Spring and summer were the times when the most stylish and normally wealthy people went to the capital to enjoy all sorts of things, especially tourist attractions and balls.
"Yes, Madam," Muriel said as her eyes stayed on her stitches. "It's a pity that His Highness can't enjoy the excitement."
"Have you been paying any sort of attention, Muriel?"
Muriel's fingers paused and she looked up at the princess' bizarrely kind visage. Her eyes were much softer than normal. Her face was much less tense than it normally was.
Lightly, almost whispering, Muriel asked, "Have I offended you?"
Princess Arya's cheeks rose as she smiled. "What a silly girl. No. I've decided to keep you, and since you'll be seen with me, you'll need to look your best. You'll have to go to the city with me to purchase all the pretty things you'll need for the Capital Season."
Well ... this was ... good?
Muriel shook her head. "I don't know if I can afford anything up to your standards."
The princess' expression didn't change. "This is a requirement for your new position. How could you imagine that I'd be inhumane enough to demand you sacrifice your allowance for it?"
Muriel looked down at her worn hands. Sometimes, they bled and stung little. "I ... I didn't expect this."
"That's not important to me, Muriel. All I care for now is making you appear suitable." Princess Arya put her fingers in a sewing basket, possibly to find a certain color of thread. "Beauty is half nature and half nurture. Nature's done all it can with you, so why don't we try nurturing you into something nice?"
***
It had been a good while since Muriel had done the more frivolous kinds of shopping. Seamstress shops for ordering new clothing. Cosmetics shops for various creams, powders, rouges, and other items for rejuvenating or painting the flesh. Fragrance shops for perfumes and colognes. Milliners' shops for hats. So many things! Princess Arya even took Muriel to a jewelry store and purchased a few pieces to wear on special occasions. They weren't foolishly expensive, but they were certainly fancy.
This was so wrong.
Muriel kept mental notes in the back of her thoughts to check everything for poisoned pins or medicinal smells before using anything.
When she was back at the castle with a new jar of hand cream, something odd was requested of her. The princess said that she should sit near a window in one of the sitting rooms. The windows there were bigger, and she claimed that the creams would be more successful if her hands could take in the winter sunlight, or what little sunlight that was left in the day.
This logic ... well ... it didn't seem to be true logic in Muriel's mind. What in the world could winter sunlight do? Honestly?
But she wasn't able to refuse without risking her livelihood.
So, Muriel sat in a sitting room, in an armchair near a large window, and rubbed cream into her hands. Beforehand, while she was still in her bedroom, she sniffed and examined the cream to the best of her admittedly limited abilities.
She let her hands dry close to the window, and she wondered about the true reason behind all of this. Why was she being so well cared for? Why was she asked to apply cosmetics outside of her private bedroom?
Something similar happened the next morning. After she got dressed, she studied and thought to experiment with her new face powder and rouge. The princess sent a message asking Muriel to apply the makeup the same room she had first used the cream. In fact, she asked for more than that. She asked Muriel to have her hair styled there too.
What in the ...?
Did the princess want some kind of proof to show that Muriel was doing these things?
Muriel severely doubted that winter sunlight had anything to do with this.
She placed her mirror on the windowsill in that sitting room. Then she wrapped cloth around her shoulders and bosom to protect her clothing. A maid kindly helped her comb and arrange her hair. A set of curling tongs had been heated up in some coals beforehand so they could make forced curls. In the end, the hair was smoothly pinned back into a bun just above the nape. With the help of a copper filigree comb and some mild hair wax, all the curls were arranged to seemingly fall over the bun and down her nape like a waterfall.
Then it was time for the makeup. Two layers of egg whites were brushed onto her face and allowed to set. Then it was wiped away with linen dipped in rose water. Very small amounts of carefully chosen powder of a pale flesh color was mixed with water in a bowl. The resulting paste was dotted only on certain imperfections. Then it was blended in.
Was someone watching all this? If so, why? It wasn't particularly fascinating for most people.
Some pink powder was soon mixed with water so it could be painted onto Muriel's lips. Red and pink were both highly popular, but sometimes shades of brown and orange were also seen on women. Muriel thought that pink would complement her features the best.
"You look so elegant," the maid said to her.
"Thank you." Muriel certainly thought she looked glamorous, at least. "I suppose all that's left are the cheeks." The maid then put subtle pink spots on her face, imitating a natural flush.
"When your hands heal, you'll be like a white feather on a silk pillow, perfect and soft," the maid told her with a smile.
In the mirror, Muriel saw Princess Arya enter the room. "Oh," the princess breathed out, "are you finished?"
Muriel rose. Both she and the maid curtsied. "Is this satisfactory, Your Highness?" Muriel asked.
Princess Arya stood before her and moved her head and torso into interesting angles so she could have multiple vantage points. Then she had Muriel slowly spin around twice. "You've improved significantly." She turned around. "Now come. Let the maid put your things away while we have tea."
***
A few days before the Capital Season was about to happen, Muriel was allowed to visit her family. She arrived in one of the gowns that had been ordered for her. It was one of the plainer outfits, but it was much finer than anything she had worn in the last few years.
Her father cheered when he saw her. Then he hugged her, kissed her hair, and held her hands for a long time. She was wearing gloves, but she still felt his warmth.
"Oh Muriel, your face is bright and full! You must have been taking good care of yourself."
"My mistress has been very kind to me," Muriel told him. Then she went to hug her sisters. After all, she did love them. She had even missed them a little while she had been away. They were in mostly sour moods, but they complimented and congratulated her.
