Goodness and True Love

THE OTHER LADIES peppered me with questions about what in the world was going on as I rushed to our bedroom to gather what little physical evidence I had left.

I took the perfume she had bought and the flower she kept in the cloth of the hair comb. I wished we still had the brooch, but the Prince wouldn’t have come if he didn’t recognize the hair comb anyway, so most of my claims would have to be from my own memory, but indisputable.

I didn’t have time to entertain them, so I clutched my satchel close to my chest when I returned to the lobby, where Madame Whispet must be trying to discredit me further in some way. She had kicked out all the patrons and banished the women upstairs, so it was just left with an empty lobby and the dancers who watched from wall corners and behind stairway railings.

“Follow me!” I told him with urgency. I rushed to the cellar, and Prince Cassian didn’t hesitate to be close behind. Dame Ashton lingered, probably not interested in a dramatic goose chase.

But at this moment, I didn’t care about what she or anyone else thought. My sister and I’s lives were on the line!

I fearlessly pushed open the cellar door and descended down the dark steps.

Upon the first sight of her, Seralind was hunched over on a stool, meticulously focused on the lace she was working on. Laundry stacks surrounded her, and garments hung on lines on the walls. The light from the window above her illuminated her figure, and she glowed like a saintess.

“Seralind!” I called her.

When she looked up at my voice, Seralind’s demeanor was akin to weary despair before a wash of pure terror came over her at the sight of me.

“Esmeline!! What are you doing-“

She couldn’t even finish her sentence after Prince Cassian descended behind me.

Surely, she must have thought she was dreaming.

Seralind gaped like a fish, opening and closing her mouth as her eyes darted from me to Prince Cassian to me again. She struggled to search for the words to address him and the situation but settled on scrambling to stand at attention to His Highness with bright red cheeks and a hasty curtsy.

Even though her hair was tucked underneath a cloth bandana with only a few peach strands plastered against her sweaty cheeks, it was obvious she hadn’t brushed it in days. Her hands were raw and red from the soap and needlework, and when I got closer to her, a smell like damp mildew and dust emanated.

Seralind must have been aware of her unsightly appearance, because she refused to raise her head, folding her dirty hands in her apron.

Prince Cassian slowly approached my sister, absorbing her and the scene where she was working. He was holding his hands at his sides, but briefly I saw him raise his arms as though going to touch her.

She, however, only shifted on her feet uncomfortably in silence.

“Seralind is our scullery maid, Your Highness,” Madame Whispet tells the prince. “As you can see, she spends most of her day here, unable to have the means nor the time to attend such a prestigious ball as yours.”

I glare at Madame Whispet, but she doesn’t spare me a glance.

Prince Cassian, however, seemed not to even hear the Madame. He only stared at Seralind, with eyes that roamed over her hair and arms and skirt, probably trying to match the mystical dancer from the ball to the servant before him.

“Is this true?” Prince Cassian asks Seralind.

It gave her the room and the chance to speak for herself.

Finally!

I couldn’t stop myself from clasping my hands together in excitement. All of my efforts have been fruitful! Once Seralind accepts Cassian, we can be on our way to the palace and leave Madame Whispet in her stewing rage and jealousy.

But she was taking an awful while… The room has been silent for a few seconds now.

Why isn’t she saying anything? I wonder. She isn’t a scullery maid! She’s a dancer!

“Seralind?” I say out loud.

Maybe she hadn’t heard him?

I hear the crack of Madame Whispet’s fan opening, and I flinch even though it was nothing dangerous.

Seralind’s head was bowed to the floor, but I could see her pressing her lips together in a line with furrowed brows.

What’s going on…?

My sister lifted her head slightly, but her eyes were focused off to the side of the Prince in a shadowy corner of the cellar. Her expression was devoid of any delight, which made my stomach turn with dread.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but my sister has a wild imagination,” Seralind tells the prince in a steady tone, breaking the silence. “I don’t know where she found the comb, but it doesn’t belong to me.”

My jaw drops open. Even Prince Cassian’s dreamy expression faltered into a stunned frown. Madame Whispet, however, couldn’t even hide her satisfied smirk.

“I’m sorry to have wasted your time, coming all the way down here.” She apologized, performing a small curtsy.

“That’s not true!” I blurt out. “It is hers! She told me!”

What are you doing? He’s here now! He came to look for you!

Seralind suddenly pulls me towards her, with a force she hasn’t ever used with me before.

“Apologize to the Prince, Esmeline, and the Dame as well.” She demands.

Seralind didn’t look angry, but I couldn’t tell what she felt either.

I felt my breath become heavier, panicking about what to do. She wanted me to deny everything she’s ever said to me. But we were so close!

But what good will it do for us if Seralind doesn’t want the Prince? I thought to myself.

I only did all of this for her. If Seralind doesn’t want to be with Prince Cassian anymore, then I’d have no choice but to accept that.

“I wish upon every star that one day, we can live the rest of my life with a man like him.”

Her words, spoken so softly I had to strain myself to hear, echo in my mind like a windchime on a silent morning.

No. No, I don’t believe it. She must be faking it, or at least trying to hide it.

I didn’t care about playing mind games or deciphering adult reasoning for something so simple.

We had to get into the palace. It wasn’t even a matter of Seralind’s preferences anymore; Madame Whispet wouldn’t let me stay here after this.

I wiggle out of her grasp, angry but not deterred.

I shove my arm into my satchel and pull out the perfume bottle she had bought on the last night of the festival. I raise it high above my head for everyone to see.

“This is the perfume she wore to the ball, isn’t it? It’s brand new!”

I hand it to the Prince, who takes a small sniff of the scent. His face relaxes as he looks at Seralind for an explanation.

“It’s a very popular perfume, Your Highness. Many of the women here have used that same bottle.” She lies.

“T-This is one of the flowers you wore in your hair at the ball! See!” I blurt out, taking out the accessory from my bag and holding it between my fingers.

“It’s a common accessory for women in this district, especially during festival season,” Seralind says coolly, as though devoid of any emotion.

“You gave her a ruby brooch, didn’t you? On the first night?” I asked the Prince directly.

“I know nothing about a brooch, Your Highness.” Seralind answers.

I couldn’t even think of anything else, as it seemed Seralind had an excuse for everything I brought up. I didn’t understand why she was working against me.

With every denial from her, Prince Cassian looked more and more heartbroken. The confidence I had seen upstairs was replaced by an uncertain melancholy that didn’t suit his handsome face at all.

But Seralind never once looked at the Prince.

“If this truly is a misunderstanding, then I’ll be on my way. I won’t keep you from your work any more than I already have.” Cassian tells Seralind, as though she were the only person in the room. The tone of his voice was soft, almost pleading.

Seralind was picking at her nails, fixated on a patch of stone underneath us, and physically shrinking herself.

She looked…afraid.

But why? Seralind is face to face with the man of her dreams, the one she had poured her heart out to me that night. Why was she lying now?

My gaze turned to Madame Whispet, whose expression was nothing short of pure glee. It angered me so much; I wanted to pull at her hair and kick her out so she wouldn’t intimidate my sister anymore.

My sister was right; there were things I didn't understand. But I knew one thing for certain; I wasn't going to let her be intimidated by Madame Whispet (or herself) into standing up for what she wanted.

I reached out my little hands to hold Seralind’s tightly. They were so cold; it surprised me, but I squeezed them to warm them up a little bit. My touch seemed to jolt Seralind out of her thoughts.

She gazed over at me, her eyes glassy from incoming tears she's been biting back. I wanted to say something to encourage her, but I couldn't think of anything. So instead I buried my face into her arm.

Even though she didn't smell savory, just holding her in my arms again grounded me. 

Whatever you choose, Seralind, I'll stay with you. I promised her through my mind. Whether it's at the palace or the Plum Rosé, I don't want to be anywhere that you aren't.

Madame Whispet scoffs lightly.

“As I’ve been saying, Your Highness-“

“I’d like to hear it from her.” Cassian snaps at her, barely sparing her his attention besides the shifting glance of his eyes.

I expected Seralind to scold me, or deny it again. I braced myself for all my efforts to come crashing down on me, and to watch the Prince’s carriage—and our last chance at a life better than this one—fade into the hillside on its way back to the palace.

She only stared at the ground, still as an abandoned lake.

“I…”

We all held our breath, waiting for her response.

Please…only you can help us now.

All I’ve been doing is trying to steer events for our benefit. But now, all the cards are in her hands. I could only hope she would find the courage to believe in a future beyond the one Madame Whispet had forced upon us.

Seralind finally lifts her head, and they meet each other's eyes. I noticed her trembling hands slowly come to a halt.

She speaks up, her voice wavering but clear.

“What my sister has been saying…”

She takes a breath, as if absorbing the last ounce of strength she could from air.

“It is true. I’m the woman you danced with at the ball.”

She drops to a curtsy as a sign of respect, bowing her head.

“My name is Seralind Hildegarden, Your Highness.”