By the next morning I was taken from the servants quarters and shoved into one of the castle’s guest rooms. It was bigger than anything I'd ever lived in. It had a fireplace equal to the bed’s size and a wardrobe with a golden trim. All that, yet the carpet was missing, the cut logs were below the usual amount, and the sheets itched. They certainly didn’t spare any expense on me beyond what they had to. 

And other than my Princess Lessons, as Penelope called them, I wasn’t allowed a step out of my room. Anytime I ached for fresh air a knight hovering nearby would escort me back to my room. I was trapped with nothing but studying to do. 

All of it was assigned by Collins, who seemed less thrilled to be there than I was. I guessed his role as my mentor was a punishment for his outspoken behavior. We met daily in a forgotten study, rooms above the main floor. Books were stacked to the ceiling, maps clung to every wall, and layers of aged carpet littered the floor: They can’t even spare a sizable room for me to train in.

The first day in, Collins came late. His bronze hair had barely seen a comb and bags weighed down his usual composed stare. Even so, he still sat across from me at our rickety wooden table. Yawning as he began his lecture. 

“Neither of us should be here,” he said plainly. “My time would be better spent elsewhere, so would yours. Yet seeing as we don’t have a choice in the matter. Let us do the best we can.”

I nodded, fidgeting with the sleeves of my dress. 

“We’ll start with the basics: posture, language, general knowledge. Then move onto detailed history and behavior. While also incorporating the art of deception as needed.” 

“Wait, how soon do I need to learn all this?”

“A month.”

My mouth went dry. “That’s not long at all.”

“I know, but with effort, you’ll have all you need. Now, before I begin. Is there anything else you want to ask about?”

I took a deep breath. Preparing for the answer before I asked, “Everyone is talking about the how, but I need to know the what if ... .What if the Western King figures it out? That I’m just Winona.” 

Collins shifted in his chair. He leaned against the table, his face closer. “Wulfric is the least of your concerns. The people—the nobles—they’ll question you hard and their greed has no bounds. If they discover who you really are…..” He shook his head. 

“How do I keep it a secret then?” 

“Don’t trust a single one of them. Even the king to a limit. Assume any and all kindness given is for another’s benefit alone. Whatever they learn about you they’ll use as leverage against you. Be reserved, be quiet.” 

“You said they’ll question me. What do I do if I don’t have an answer?”

“First off, you don’t speak right away. Let their words breathe. Ask yourself what their motive is behind the question—it’ll tell you how to answer. If you can’t for whatever reason then redirect. Remember, you don’t need to dominate the conversation, only outlast it. Silence is your friend.” 

He sat back in his chair. “Let’s practice. Say someone approaches you and asks, ‘What does your father make of this peace treaty?’ You say….?”

I took a deep breath in: Anything too specific, they’ll leverage against me. I have to be vague.

“My father, like your king, is working hard towards peace.”

“Good,” he smiled. “If you can survive a conversation there, you can do anything.”

My stomach churned. If I survive. No one ever spoke of what peace costs, only whether it was forged. Would my life be expense of this peace?

“Do you want to try another?” He asked. 

I shook my head. Trying to clear my head of those thoughts. “Can I ask something?” 

He waved me on to speak.

“You fight so hard, you care so much. You disagree and the king orders you—beats you down. Still you put in all this effort to train me. Why?” 

He sighed. “I’m never beaten down. Nor silenced. Merely obedient to the extent I can give. I work with what I have and I do the good I can within my ability. Why I do it….my family risked a lot to get to where I am. All I want is to be the son they deserve.” 

I didn’t expect him to be so vulnerable. We barely knew each other. Then again, the chances we’d meet again were… slim. I wanted to push forward—I didn’t know anything about the line of nobility—but the way he clenched his jaw told me that was all I’d get.

“Why don’t we pick this up tomorrow?”
I muttered, “Yes.”

That was all either of us could take for the day, and knowing we had a month together, neither of us felt the slightest excitement for what lay ahead.

The following lessons were overwhelming, to say the least. I had no say in how I sat, ate, or even moved. My mind was crammed with the princess’s life story far more than my own. And worst of all, Her Highness would check in on us with her friends. Other noblewomen with nothing better to do than follow her around, giggling and echoing everything she said.

If I tripped on my gown it was followed by scoff and, “Most women learn this naturally. Though I suppose it must be hard coming from someone of her standing.” Then laughter. The giggles alone were torture and not even Collins could tell them off. Not unless he wanted a word with the king. 

When it came to tea drinking all I heard was, “Perhaps you’re moving too quickly for her. She can’t even hold a cup right.”

The squeak of their voices made me want to chuck the whole porcelain set at them. Though, with stern glances from Collins, I controlled myself. Barely. 

“Consider them a test of endurance,” he’d say. “You’ll meet far worse in the Western Kingdom.”

“I don’t see how,” I mumbled. 

Out of everything, courtesying and greetings were the worst. Princess Vivian offered her help by pretending to be the Western King. She’d sit at the end of the castle halls with her friends, they acted as princesses. While she snacked on grapes and wine. 

With each step they had a new insult: “Chicken feet” or “Bog water walk” were their favorites. Collins stood to the side, guiding me with his hands. Gesturing for me to smile or stand straighter. 

Despite it all, Penelope was always there at the end of the night. Doing her best to keep my spirits high. Making jokes and crafting stories, sharing the latest gossip, or asking repeated questions about Lord Collins. But with every passing day, our smiles faded and nothing but a gnawing silence grew. Every echoing laugh and shared grin became hollow as we both came to terms of what was to come. 

Then, before we knew it, the month had passed. It was my last night in the castle, and Penelope was tasked with dyeing my hair a deep, unnatural, black. It smelled like vinegar and burned my scalp. And whether it was the mixer or just our weary hearts, both our eyes were teary.

“I was the one who dreamed of being a princess,” Penelope whispered, brushing the inky mixture in. “So you better live my fantasy to the fullest.”
“Then you have to behave yourself while I’m gone.”
“I will,” she sniffled, barely holding back a sob. “You better come back.”

There wasn’t a word I could say to reassure her—or myself. Anything but I’ll try sounded like a false promise. All we could do was cry quietly together until morning.