Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Ch. 27: Camelias

The annoyed smirk looked silly on the baby face looking back at me. I wrinkled my nose and the little white-haired girl did the same. I pulled the corners of my mouth into a wide grimace and my reflection mocked me by doing the same.

Marie softly laughed behind me as she combed my hair with lavender oil, further accentuating the silver tones out in my hair. I’m seated in front of my vanity as I enter the final phases of preparing for the Spring Ball after being run ragged in preparations since the moment I opened my eyes to the morning light.

How was I to know there would be so much required preparation for the Spring Ball. I am just a child and I had thought it would scarcely take more than half an hour but I have been pathed, oiled, and preened like a turkey getting ready to be cooked. They tried to douse my face in white powder and rosy lipstick, but I stood my ground, not allowing for the slightest hint of makeup to touch my face. I never liked it much in my last life and it was just too strange for me to fathom a young child doused in makeup.

“Please, your highness, stay still,” Marie gently reminded as I continued to make strange faces. In truth, it didn’t bother the nursemaid much because it was one of the rare occasions her mistress acted her age.

I pouted a little, but obeyed diligently. Marie was preparing to loop my hair into intricate designs befitting a noblewoman, her hands already beginning tiny braids near the front of my hair.

“Wait, Marie,” I order with a light frown.

“Mistress?” Her nimble hands quit tugging at my head.

I curl a long strand of my hair around my finger before coming to a conclusion.

.....

“Just give me a single braid,” I insist, not wanting to look excessively done up for the Ball. No matter what is considered trendy in this era, I know I’d look rather silly if I complied with these beauty standards.

A pang of nervousness hits me later as maids begin to tie me into my dress. It looks good as I expected, but too plain. Coupled with the braid, I can understand why my maids are throwing strange glances at me as they get me ready. All the excitement I felt yesterday at hitting the lottery jackpot has faded as they maids step away and leave me alone in front of the full-length mirror.

I was right, as expected. The dark color of the dress stands out prominently against my skin and gives me a youthful, ethereal glow. The high neck and newly shortened sleeves suit my tiny figure and looks perfectly appropriate for a young girl. My eyelashes, which are thankfully black and luscious, stand out prominently around the solid gold disks that have been a curse rather than a blessing. The overall effect of my outfit is simple but unforgettable. A perfect first impression.

The fear of the unknown keeps me from smiling at my reflection. I’ve been reincarnated from Winter’s youth, meaning that the major events of the web haven’t occurred yet. I’m operating in the unknown past of this world, one that is obviously subject to change since I’ve entered the palace 2 years later than Winter did in the book. The main protagonist won’t show up for another 11 years. I have no idea how much influence Peppermint wields over this world. The stress of my circumstances is hitting me all at once, making my eyes cloud over with unease.

“There, there, your highness,” Marie assures me, no longer looking as apprehensive as she did the other day after I had delightfully re-edited the dress I’m wearing.

She has mistaken my anxiety about my uncertain future with being nervous about the ball. I’m not particularly worried about this Spring Ball. I can just treat it like the few formal parties I’ve attended in my past life, where I disappeared into the background and ate my weight in hors d’oeuvres. Aside from feeling awkward about being ignored by my new ‘family’, tonight should be a breeze.

“Your highness...” a maid starts uncertainly.

An unknown maid standing by my side takes the chance to speak up now at my unadorned outfit, which resembles something a poor noble daughter would wear rather than a princess. I turn to her with a friendly smile, encouraging her to continue.

“The royal treasury has brought the jewels that have been selected for you to wear tonight.”

I nod, and she takes it as a cue to invite the courtier holding a sumptuous velvet red pillow into my bedroom. A dull sparkle increases as he draws closer, dragging my eyes to the gems sitting on the pillow. It’s a generous assortment if one was uneducated about royal jewels. There is a small pin of sapphire, surrounded by small diamonds, a tiny silver circlet with an emerald at the center, and various other knick-knacks. They all sparkle a lot, and if I were in my past life, anyone wearing these would be pegged as a wealthy individual. Heck, I almost want to grab a few to pawn off later.

But in my history classes, I’ve also seen enough photos of royalty to know that these pretty decorations are chump change compared to what princes and princesses actually wore to large gatherings. I would probably just further embarrass myself if I wore these small pieces to the ball. I’m better off not wearing anything. Princess Kate would have a good chuckle if she some of these specially selected ‘royal jewels’.

A devious little smile dances across my face, bringing a bit of turmoil to Marie’s simple heart. It was an unusual expression for such a tiny, precious child to wear. But the strange grin left just as quickly as it came, leaving Marie wondering if she had simply imagined that face.

I’m oblivious to Marie’s thoughts as I’ve just had a fine idea of my own. Since I’ve been adopted into the royal family, rumors have been abuzz about how the empress has doted on me and cared for me even though I’m not her own. Personally coming to visit me and even sending me fine clothes to wear for the Spring Ball. I’m so lucky to have a stepmother like her.

It’s rather laughable. What woman would love the child who threatens her child’s supposed birthright and is living, breathing evidence of her husband’s infidelity?

“I won’t wear any,” I say flatly, forgetting to add my childish charm to my words. Everyone in the room looks at me in alarm and I pout dramatically.

“They’re too pretty. I don’t deserve to wear these gems.”

I let my bottom lip wobble as if I’m about to cry and all the maids’ faces morph into a look of pity.

“But they’re quite pretty, your highness! Look, this blue pin would look lovely with your dress!” the maid further insisted, serenaded by the nods of those who stood nearby.

I just answered by letting a lone tear fall down my newly chubby cheeks. The maid silenced herself immediately with a look of fear, most definitely remembering how Janice had been dragged out of the palace for making me cry. I mentally pat myself on the back again for that ingenious move, as of now still unaware how badly it’s going to blow up in my face in the future.

The maids quickly say formal farewells with hasty curtseys before practically running out the door of my room. The courtier, who is not from my palace, just watches with a confused expression until Marie shoos him out as well. As my nursemaid she follows all my decisions, but once the courtier has left, she too gives me a confused look while Emma crawls out from under my bed where she was hiding.

“Your highness,” she starts, wringing her hands nervously, “They are correct. It would be inappropriate for you not to wear any jewelry to the Spring Ball.”

“Isn’t there something else I can wear though?” I ask, fishing for any other accessories than the jewels of the family that will one day murder me. Unconsciously, my eyes wander my bedroom and land on a porcelain vase full of white flowers.

My interest is piqued. The wide and almost circular petals are the same shade as my hair and before I know it, I’m tugging a few stems out of the vase, the water tickling my hands as it drips onto the floor.

“This!” I say with childlike enthusiasm, waving the flowers in Marie’s face. “Put some in my braid!”

There is a look of contemplation before Marie readily agrees, nudging back into my seat as she plucks a few flowers from the stem and tucks it into the long braid that almost grazes my butt.

“Do you know what kind of flowers these are, your highness?” Marie asks as she tucks the first few flowers in.

“Nope!” Modern people don’t tend to remember many flowers, my knowledge barely extending beyond easily identifiable flowers like roses, sunflowers, and daises.

“It’s a camelia. It represents love and admiration.”

I let out an unladylike snort at the flower’s meaning. There is no love waiting for me where I’m going. But the thought doesn’t put me out in the slightest as Marie sweeps the braid over my shoulder so I can get a better look. The waterfall design of the flowers looks exceptionally pretty with the camelias almost blending into my hair but not quite. I twirl in the mirror, happy with my look and even Marie no longer looks ill at ease with my final outfit.

“You look very pretty, your highness,” Marie says in an approving tone.

Only Emma sits on the floor, a strange expression I’ve never seen marring her face and sparking concern in me as I’ve only seen her look bored or mischievous. But when I asked her what the matter was, her face cleared up like clouds over the sun and she told me she forgot, even scratching the side her head furiously as if it were a matter of great importance.

But my nervousness of the upcoming social gathering eclipses Emma’s matters as a maid knocks to inform us that the Ball has begun and my presence is requested. I grip Marie’s hand tightly as I follow her out the door. For children up until they reach 7 or so years of age, they are allowed to have a maid accompany them to social events. But even with Marie’s warm grasp, I can’t help but shiver, and not from the cold.

It’s time for me to meet my family. My whole family.