Asharath had only been a few towns away, thankfully. Through the journey Oris had to resist the urge to rub at her eyes and yawn every few minutes. 

Even Faeradaigh had seemed worn down by yesterday's storm. He made no advances towards her and kept a respectable distance from her person at all times till he led her out of the carriage. And even then their contact had been brief.

When boredom had driven her to make conversation with the man, his replies were curt and proper with no insinuations in between.

Oris didn't know whether to be glad or not. Fearful that this momentary pause in lust would lead to an explosion of passion she would be left helpless against.

"Mistress?" a soft voice called, drawing Oris' attention back to the girl in front of her. The one that had been discussing plans for her next meal.

"Yes?" she asked back, not bothering to hide the fact that she had not been listening for the past ten minutes.

The girl was a maid, one out of the four maids she had been introduced to since she had set foot on Asharath. Her name was Seline and she had fair, smooth skin and short dark curls like the other three girls. But her eyes were blue while the others had grey, hazel and dark brown irises respectively.

Oris had made an effort to remember their names because not doing so would make her seem rude and snobbish, and that was far from the impression she intended to give anyone watching her.

What she had said to Faeradaigh hadn't been a complete lie. If it was possible, she wanted everyone to like her but she was not naive enough to hope that she made no enemies.

"This servant asked if you would like to eat dinner in your chambers or in the dining hall." Seline said quietly, her eyes fixed on the polished floor and her hands clasped in front of her.

"I would like to eat here, Seline," Oris sighed and stared blankly at the mirror in front of her. "I am not ready to be in the company of others just yet."

"Then this servant shall take her leave," Seline bowed her head lower and backed away five paces before turning around and leaving the room.

Oris nodded at the empty space in front of her, not really caring for food. If it came she would eat. If it didn't she didn't mind the solitude.

It had been hours since she had arrived in the city's manor and since then she had been scrubbed harshly from head to toe thrice, rubbed with scented oils a dozen times and had her hair combed through then curled repeatedly with hot irons when her stubborn locks refused to cooperate.

She still sat in her bath robes while her feet were submerged in a small tub of hot water and rose petals. Her hair had been pinned into submission, rolled up in several loops that sat atop her head in a gravity defying manner and looked more like an architectural design than a hairdo.

Mayree, the maid with grey irises who was in charge of her hair, had said that preparations had to be started now for her meeting with the emperor. She did not have the luxury of being attended to in the palace because immediately she arrived, the selection would begin.

Oris didn't mind the rush, already used to how pushy maids could get when deadlines were involved. They were determined to transform her into royal material before the week's end. She found the entire situation ironic, seeing that she had been a queen once upon a time.

Once she had been seated in front the dresser all four maids had formed a circle around her, disapproving comments about the split ends in her hair and the callouses on her palms and fingertips echoing all around her.

They complained about the freckles on her face, arms and chest, and the sickly pallor of her skin. She could tell that they were disappointed with what they had to work with and she was grateful that they hadn't mentioned her hair and how unappealing the color was.

Knowing why they fussed so much, she didn't take offense and just let them work on her. She knew that in the selections and palace life in general, any mistake was blamed on the maids and if their mistress erred their lives were forfeited to make up for the grievance regardless of whether they were involved or not.

They needed her to win Hermes' affections or their daily lives would be at risk. Oris suspected that in a matter of months the girls would abandon her because gaining favor was not a prerogative of hers.

Another sigh slipped passed her lip as she examined her complexion through the copper mirror. She might not have been tan but she was darker than two years ago and she had more freckles.

Oris thought it was a miracle she still looked healthy with all the days she had been asleep in the convent. The lack of sleep during the carriage rides didn't seem to reflect on her face either.

She was a far cry from the person she had been at nineteen summers. She had grown thinner and more mature with a more angular face and sharper features. And with her bosom free of the bindings she usually wore during the day, she looked more a woman than ever.

She reckoned that she looked too different for Hermes to identify her as the Queen of Orse. Or at least she hoped so.

It didn't matter anyhow. Anyone who knew of the former queen birthing twins had been disposed of over the course of time. The secret was now known to her and Rodholf alone.

She figured that she could always downplay the resemblance if it came to it. After all, the Queen of Orse was already dead.

Oris was just Oris now, nothing else. And if circumstances allowed it then Oris she would remain for the rest of her life.

"Mistress?" Another maid marched into the room with her arms crossed and a wronged expression on her face. Indignity shined so brightly in her hazel eyes that Oris couldn't help but chuckle.

"What is it, Andrea?" she asked curiously, knowing that this particular maid was the most childish of the lot.

"Mayree said you still haven't decided what to wear."

"I haven't," Oris said honestly, turning to the outfits laid out on the bed by the dresser. She was used to wearing mourning colors, black and white, for the duration of her rule. Her birth parents had died two months before her coronation, so her fashion sense had been limited to what was proper.

And by the time the three year mourning period was over, Hermes was already at her castle gates so there was never any need to experiment.

"But you have to, Mistress," Andrea stressed with an adorable pout. "I need to see which colors and styles look best on you. Mayree needs to think up hairstyles to match the dresses. Seline needs to pick out jewellery and Keziah needs—"

"Okay, okay." Oris held up her hand and shook her head. "I'll choose the pale pink one."

Andre beamed at her, looking utterly please. "An excellent choice, Mistress. Let me help you wear it now, then I'll call Keziah in for your cosmetics."

Oris forced a smile, trying not to think of how much heavier she would be after they were done.

She had almost forgotten how tiring it was to get the full royal treatment. Even when she had been queen she didn't think she had been this pampered.

She had never let the maids bathe her or dress her for fear that they may discover the distinct differences between her and Risa. She had never had complicated updos and she didn't wear extravagant jewelry either.

Oris had always been against using the wealth of her state when she knew that her people suffered still.

"You'll be the gem of the selection," Andrea gushed as she undid the buttons of the dress, "I just know it."

I hope not, Oris closed her eyes and leaned her back against the chair. Nevertheless, it felt nice knowing that at least one person had some faith in her.

~