“I am well, it is only that… my accident forced me to reevaluate myself. I realised that I did not much like the person I was, and now I’m trying to change, become a better person, you know?”

“Oh my…” Hilda gasped. “Artemisia, you have my full support!”

I feel like if there wasn’t a table between us, she would be trying to hug me right now…

“Thank you, Hilda.”

“It must have been quite serious to make you feel that way… if you don’t mind me asking, what happened exactly?”

“Actually, I don’t really remember. I, um…” Artemisia trailed off.

Should I just give her the amnesia spiel? Would it help? Is it even supposed to be a secret in the first place?

“Please, don’t force yourself to relive it for my sake! I never should have asked! I’m so sorry – what a horrible friend I am!”

“Ah, no, please don’t cry! It doesn’t hurt me at all, because, you see…”

Artemisia quickly explained – or rather lied – that she had lost her memory, and that she knew nothing of her accident other that what she had been told.

“Oh Artemisia!” Hilda dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “How lost you must feel!”

“I did at first, but Emile has been extremely helpful, and I wouldn’t have gotten through the first few days after the accident without Elise.”

“Emile? But I thought you and her did not get along?”

“We do now,” Artemisia said, smiling. “It helped that I was seeing her from an entirely new perspective.”

“I suppose that does help,” mused Hilda. “But she hasn’t been mean to you? Or used your lack of knowledge to manipulate you in some way?”

“Not at all! She’s not like that at all!” Artemisia exclaimed somewhat indignantly. “I may have thought of her that way in the past, but now I see how kind she is!”

“Ah!” Hilda flushed, and her eyes darted around the room. “I’m sorry for saying such cruel words – forgive me.”

“It’s alright,” Artemisia said. “You didn’t know.”

“So… will you be participating in the season?” Hilda asked after a moment of awkward silence, clearly seeking to change the subject.

“I will,” Artemisia said, hiding a grimace. Ah, a reminder that I have less than a month to truly assimilate into this world. Then we’ll head to the capital, Seraph, to spend the colder months there, as will most of the aristocracy.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Hilda exclaimed, clapping her hands, her eyes sparkling. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you! You need only call for me, and I will come to your aid!”

“Thank you, Hilda.” Artemisia found her mouth curling into a smile. She’s kind of sweet, if a little over-exuberant. She feels young. “If I might be so bold as to ask… how old are you?”

“Huh?” Hilda tilted her head, before answering, “I’ll be nineteen this winter! I’m hoping to be able to hold a birthday party, if it doesn’t clash with anything else.” She looked at Artemisia bashfully. “Would you – if it won’t be too much of an imposition – do me the honour of being my first guest?”

Artemisia looked into the hopeful eyes of Hilda. “Yes, of course.”

“I heard you had a guest today, Arte,” the duchess said at dinner. “Who was it?”

Putting her fork down, Artemisia replied, “Hilda der Gild. We encountered each other at Countess Selwyn’s soirée, and I ended up inviting her.”

“It’s not like you to have somebody visit so casually,” Marianne continued. “Der Gild… They manage the lands around Vergellen, near the west coast, do they not?”

“Yes, that’s them,” Christopher interjected. “They’re a good family, although I hope you’re not walking all over the poor girl, Arte. She worships the very ground you step on from what I’ve seen.”

“I am not!” Artemisia retorted, angrily stuffing mashed potato into her mouth. “I think I changed her view of me quite a bit, anyway.”

She thought back to the moment when she’d shown Hilda her abysmal embroidery skills. Hilda had done her best to compliment it, but she’d been unable to hide her second-hand embarrassment.

“Not hard as you are now,” Christopher scoffed.

“Topher!” Emile gasped, her eyebrows shooting up.

I wish I had Artemisia’s memories so I could use some good blackmail on him to shut him up. Artemisia deigned not to respond to Christopher’s insult, focusing on eating her dinner as quickly as she could – without breaking any of the rules which Emile had squished into her brain over the last few weeks. She made a point of ignoring the whispered argument of Emile and Topher.

As soon as the last mouthful had passed down her throat, she shot up. “May I be excused?”

The duke waved his hand. “As you wish.”

“Wait, Arte.” Christopher stood as she passed him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly.”

Artemisia paused. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Emile smiling encouragingly. She sighed internally, before saying, “I accept your apology, Christopher. Don’t worry, I’ve come to expect such words from you.”

Marianne put her cutlery down with a clang. “Stop fighting, the two of you. You’re siblings, you should get along.”

So she can tell the two of us off, but if I dare make one little comment on her and the duke’s rocky relationship, she completely shuts the conversation down. Sometimes I understand why Artemisia threw tantrums all the time.

Okay, breathe in, breathe out. Calm…

“If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room.”

“Haaaah…” Artemisia collapsed against the door to her room. Her eyes fell on her embroidery from earlier. “This stupid thing.”

She had no trouble with geometric shapes, but the moment she tried to do something natural, like the rose she was currently attempting, it turned into an absolute mess.

Let’s try something else; I don’t feel like being challenged right now.

Artemisia wandered over to the small bookshelf beside her bed. The top shelf was novels, but the two below were dedicated to books of study, several of them in different languages. She trailed her hands along the books, pausing on one titled… “A Study of Nascial Embroidery?”

Why is this here? There’s nothing else related to embroidery on these shelves. And why Nascial Embroidery specifically?

Intrigued, Artemisia drew out the slim volume and opened it to a random page. What she saw made her eyes widen, and she hastily closed the book with a snap, before double-checking the title.