DAY 41-2: CORONATION

"You're insane if you think I'm wearing those drags."

Hadey and Yana turn blind eyes to what is unfolding, dusting away at the shelves in the far corner of the room. Leda does her best to remain indifferent as well, but even as she helps organize the strewn outfits and beds, keeping her face as hidden as possible, the occurrence is impossible to block out.

As she calmly rests on her queen-sized bed, Valentina calmly receives cherries from a bowl a girl is crouched over and holding out to her. Albeit adorned in silk just as extravagant, her looks downright surpass them. Her skin is just as delicate as a porcelain doll, lips heart-shaped and pulled into a taut line. Her luminous hair cascades over her shoulders and exposed cleavage, encasing her in an air of royalty that she is.

"But Your Highness!" a courtier cries. Servants file in racks after racks of gowns, some racing to collect the uncharted amount strewn across this gigantic room. "You've said no to eighty dresses by now! The engagement party is the day after tomorrow. You can't be so nitpicky—"

"If the next dress you bring me is unworthy of my beauty I'll personally skin you all alive and feed your rotting remains to the wolves." Valentina's sharp tongue is as merciless (and grotesque?) as Leda remembers. She raises a violet brow. "Am I clear?"

"O-of course!" the courtier squeaks. "As you wish!"

He hastens towards the other servants, reprimanding them to skim through a boatload of dresses for the one that suits her most.

As the chaos continues to befall within this rather large room, Valentina draws a prolonged breath. She rests her cheek upon her chin and runs her fingers through the feathers of the crow currently perched on her shoulder. Even with a face of indifference, she glows—far brighter than any gem or star. Leda's never seen someone so beautiful.

Leda's lips press together as she surveys her silently. The chills that grace her arms throw her the wrong way. She ducks her head, shielding her face.

Valentina knows what she looks like. Even if the others don't, Leda can't hide from her. Running away isn't an option either.

Leda sneaks a glance at the doorway. She kind of went with the flow and followed Yana and Hadey here, but even if she didn't have a choice in the matter, anything would've been better than this. She hasn't even gotten the chance to figure out where Nixon is. And she's still unsure whether or not Avel's completed a cure for Ro yet. Then again, Avel may or may not be their enemy...

She shakes her head. No. Avel has to be their ally. Sure he's a little sketchy and oddly flirtatious, but he's kind. She knows it. Avel is on their side. She can't go distrusting him due to a couple of words from a maid.

Content with the newfound conviction that swells through her veins, Leda balls her fists. Yeah. She owes him so much, and can leave Ro to him for a little while longer. Besides, the most important thing to do now is ensuring she doesn't blow her cover whilst digging up any information she can concerning Nixon.

Leda's hands fall to the shelves, caressing the multiple books that occupy it. She's not surprised to find scrambled alphabet inscribed on the spines. But from what she can gather, they're history books. How Straeh came to be, various maps and locations; even a list or two about princess responsibilities and duties.

When Leda's fingers graze a picture frame, she freezes. From what she can depict, it's Valentina. She looks to be a toddler and has a smile slapped onto her face. At what is unknown, as jagged brown lines stretch down the middle of this happy-go-lucky photograph, peeling back the surface.

Leda's eyebrows furrow together. It's been burned. But, who would do such a thing?

"H-hey, you! Curly-head!"

Her heart drops to her gut. Breath hitched in her throat, she whips her head left as fast as she can. Fortunately for Leda, Valentina still rests on her bed, watching the servants stutter around for a perfect dress in utter boredom. Leda then glazes over Hadey and Yana who have now gone to silently assist the other servants amidst this chaos, cleaning the mess of clothes.

Confusion straightaway ripples through her. It sounded close enough to be inside her head. Was she only imagining the voice?

As Leda's shoulders slump from newfound relief, she returns her focus to the photograph only to have the voice erupt again. This time, close—and loud—enough to pop an eardrum.

"I-I'm talking to you! You're getting too touchy with Val's belongings!"

Leda twists so quickly she loses her footing. Her back collides into the bookshelf, but without regard for the loud ricochet that follows, her head jerks furiously for the source. When she finds them, her heart screeches to a halt. Eyes wider than saucers, she attempts to digest the miniature entity that currently floats between her eyes.

A voluminous spectrum of orange, red, and yellow flutter across her eyelids. Like fire has caught in the air itself, heaps of smoke appear and vanish around each flutter of their fiery wings. It's thrice the size of a mosquito—about the height of Leda's palm—and possesses a sharp nose knitted under two smouldering black irises. Their entirety is burning; its surroundings, Leda's core— swallowing her thoughts in a hazy swirl.

"Blaze," Valentina calls, sighing as she studies her palm. "Why are you suddenly so rowdy?"

Blaze? Isn't that the name Avel and her brought up yesterday? The one that tailed Avel into the city...? Leda flutters her eyelashes—once, twice—unable to hide the jaw-slack look she's obtained. There's no way, but... it's right in front of her. The creature of her imagination.

"Val!" The fairy doesn't even have to part their lips for their timid voice to echo throughout the room. "This maid is touching your belongings!"

"Maid...?" As if a flicker of amusement has dawned on her, Valentina's eyes fall to Leda.

Albeit unable to regain her senses before, that piercing look alone jolts Leda awake. But Valentina has already pushed herself up from her seat.

Her hips gauntly sway as she ambles towards her, red lips pulled back to her cheeks. Leda scrambles for something to hide her face with—settling to bury her nose between a book instead. Valentina's heels click into place once she arrives, and all the gawking servants have gone deathly silent as well.

Valentina doesn't bother to peer down on Leda from her staggering height. And honestly, there's no need for her to. The sharpness of her scrutiny does all the condemning necessary.

"You're the scrub Avelious brought in, aren't you?" Her voice carries an undertow of amusement. As close as she is, her entirety is on par with some historic portrait. "So even you have fallen victim to his sweet tongue. How amusing."

Her heart-shaped pupils dart to Leda's fingertips. The photograph she hasn't realized she still withholds rises almost effortlessly until it's dangling before Valentina's face.

Despite indifferent before, her countenance hardens. "Does this photograph pique your curiosity?"

She pauses, as if awaiting Leda's response. Being here for as long as she has, Leda knows Valentina definitely isn't one to be patient. Shielding her face even further, she succumbs to the maid persona she's to uphold by purposely stuttering, "I-I apologize for touching it without permission."

Valentina's scrutiny doesn't vanish. But her amusement surely does. "I was so sure I burned this picture entirely. Were you the one who salvaged it, Blaze?"

"Th-that is only because—"

The crow resting on her shoulder nestles its wings, producing a loud enough caw! to tremble the fairy into silence. For something that was so haughty earlier, this fairy appears very cowardly, especially as it shivers with an antsy look in its eye.

Letting her eyelids fall, Valentina outstretches the photo to Blaze and walks back the way she came.

"A-a-are you sure it's fine, Val?" it stutters. "It's the only moments you have of—"

"I do not need to remember that man's grimy face. Not after the shame he has brought me and our kingdom." She reclines in her chair. "I would've become the Queen's predecessor if it weren't for his wretched blood in my veins. All because of that filthy man, that slimy fox will be marrying Avel instead."

"You'd definitely have been a better choice, Your Highness Valentina," a nearby servant calls.

Another chimes in with a nod. "It is all Saga's fault!"

Valentina shuts her eyes and muses, "I still cannot wrap my head around it. Why would my father go to such lengths to defy the Queen? He knew better than anyone that it was taboo, and yet he sullied his hands in sin, anyway." Silence hangs in the air. "Curly-head."

Valentina smirks at Leda's fright. Bearing it no mind, she waves to the plethora of racks.

"Come and choose a dress worthy of my beauty. Do so and I'll let you off the hook for defiling my belongings with your vile hands."

Leda narrows her eyes.

"What is Her Highness...!" a servant cries.

"Everyone knows how hard to satisfy she is!"

"I've waited long enough," Valentina discloses, successfully silencing all whispers. She looks to her again. "You have all the dresses in the kingdom. Choose wisely."

Leda lowers her book by her side, knowing full well there's no way out of this. Refusing will only draw more suspicion onto her. Gulping hard—and praying her disguise is enough—she faces her and curtseys.

"As you wish, Your Highness." Once up, she gulps. "If I may ask, what... happens if I choose a dress you dislike?"

Valentina merely smirks and rests her palm upon her cheek. "Wouldn't it be much more fun to find out yourself?"

All conversations seize at that, and a silence as cold as the wintry breeze outside dons Leda's arms in goosebumps. She really is the complete opposite of Avel. A spoiled brat in its purest definition. But, what is it? This malice Leda feels...

If she really doesn't choose right, her death is practically assured.

Heartbeat high in her ears, Leda approaches the racks. Dresses of all colours and designs surround her. They're all top quality, too—any one of these is a dream anyone would be grateful to own. However, Leda doesn't know Valentina well enough to know her tastes. Neither does she knows the customs of Hearts, and what's common at engagement parties or not. It's because of that, Leda can only hesitate.

None of the observing servants give any hints to point her in the right direction. They all gaze on her in the blank manner Leda's grown accustomed to Hearts adorning, including Hadey and Yana. Is it because they all equally have no clue what Valentina desires? Or is it because they truly don't care if Valentina follows through with her threat or not...

Chills record high, Leda banishes her banal thoughts. Overthinking things isn't what she does. She's lived her entire life going by the seat of her pants. So even if she ponders about what dress suits this high-born princess or not, that doesn't change her circumstance.

Go with her gut. Whatever happens afterwards, she'll deal with it then.

Her legs lead her to the dress idling in the furthest corner of the room. For a moment, gazing up at it, awe is the only emotion that fills her. It's gorgeous.

"Is... that your choice?"

Valentina's murmur snaps Leda out of her trance.

The incessant hisses that follow reach her afterward.

"Isn't that the dress the Queen wore on her coronation?"

"If Her Highness wore that on the day of the party, it'd be so disrespectful! She'd be showcasing her disagreement with the Queen's decision to marry into Dia."

"She'll—she'll kill her!"

Leda's blood runs cold. Crap, her mind bellows. She picked it because it looked the prettiest, but... Can this be why the other servants were staying away from it?

'Nobody crosses the Queen.'

It's the one thing Leda's come to learn amidst her stay here, and yet her one choice singlehandedly did just that.

Leda expected a lot of things.

A wholehearted guffaw isn't one of them.

And yet, contrasting the horror-stained countenances of the palace workers, Valentina beams from ear to ear.

"H-Her Highness is..."

"What an interesting toy Avelious has picked up," Valentina sniggers, ascending to her feet. "We can tailor that dress for me tomorrow. I want to turn in for tonight."

"B-but, Your Highness—"

"Kill me?" Valentina scoffs, hitching her chin. "I'd like to see that woman try. I deserve that throne. And I haven't the slightest intention of letting a lowly Half take it from me."

They quiver in their boots.

"Now, leave my sight. I've made my decision."

"Y-yes, Your Highness!" one squeaks, and despite their astonishment, they gather up everything and flee the room.

Leda just about twist on her heels—honestly glad to have dodged a bullet—when a shout halts her in her tracks.

"Curly-head."

Upon swirling around, eyelids high, Valentina ambles forward, that sly grin curling her lips. She waits until the last servant vacates the room to toss her a brown sack.

"Take that to Avelious for me."

It's oddly warm. And moist...? "All right," Leda says, regardless, clamping it closer to her chest.

It's a direct link. Using this, she can see Avel and figure out his progress with Ro.

See! Something good did come out of this all!

"No matter what happens, do not look at what's inside." Valentina smirks as she says this. "Am I understood, Curly-head?"

Leda ignores a shudder that threatens to buckle her knees. The crow, as well as Blaze, surveying her with equally beady, soulless eyes, doesn't help.

"U-understood...?"

Valentina cackles even after she turns tail and leaves the room.