Chapter 118

Chapter 118
Princess Ellie’s pov;

I had always considered Grok… quaint.

A charming little backwater where everyone seemed to speak in overly long sentences and wear far too much brown. Their food was heavy, their music dreary, and their manners, well, earnest, I suppose. Not entirely without appeal, but certainly lacking the refinement I was accustomed to in Belgravia. It was an improvement, considering that we all used to call the people of Grok, barbaric.

Still, one must endure these things for the sake of diplomacy, and of course, for appearances. A princess is nothing without her grace under strain, and I am nothing if not graceful.

The carriage rattled over the uneven cobblestones as we approached the castle gates. I sat back against the velvet cushion, one hand lazily stroking the fur trim of my cloak, the other holding a small silver mirror.

The mirror was for my eyes only, not because I feared my ladies-in-waiting would gossip about my touch-ups (they absolutely would, and I would have them dismissed for it), but because I needed to be perfect before stepping into the court of Grok. My hair was flawless, of course, gold spun into precise curls that framed my face in a way that made men stupid and women suspicious. My lips were a soft coral today, to convey approachability without sacrificing superiority. I missed wheh Raven used to be my handmaiden. She was stupid, but efficient, very efficient.

“Your Highness, we are nearly there,” my chief lady-in-waiting, Felisse, said in that prim voice of hers.

“Yes, yes, I can see that,” I said without looking away from my reflection. “Do stop stating the obvious, dear, it wrinkles the mood.”

She flushed and looked away. Good. She was too stupid.

Now, as to the matter at hand… Raven.

I had heard so much about her time in Grok. Whispers said she was destined for something,  though what precisely depended on who you asked. But she was a remarkable fighter, something I was struggling to believe considering the fact that I was certain that she was a wimp.

My personal feeling? She was an ambitious little climber. Pretty enough in a rugged sort of way, but not in a way that would survive the pressure of actual court life. Still, dangerous in her own sphere. And there had been rumors, wild ones, that she might have some claim to something significant. Laughable, really, but one never entirely dismissed such whispers.

But then, she had been a servant and her mother was a servant, what claim could she possibly have?

The carriage stopped, the door swung open, and the cold Grok air swept in. I stepped down with practiced elegance, smiling the smile that had charmed dukes, diplomats, and the occasional wayward king.

A reception party waited in the courtyard. I recognized the Lady Joanna at once, her poise was exquisite, her clothing impeccable, her smile razor-sharp beneath a veneer of warmth. The kind of woman who could ruin you with a compliment. I liked her immediately.

And there, standing slightly apart, was Raven. She was watching me with an expression that could have frozen the river.

I, of course, ignored it entirely.

Instead, I swept forward, allowing Joanna to take my hand in greeting. “Lady Joanna, it is such a pleasure to meet you at last. Your letters spoke so highly of Grok, but I see now they undersold it. The air here is positively bracing.”

“I am glad you find it so, Your Highness,” Joanna replied smoothly. “We hope your journey was comfortable.”

“Oh, tolerably so. Though one does long for proper roads.” I gave a small, tinkling laugh and turned to survey the others. My eyes landed on Raven at last. “And you must be…”

Her name was on my tongue, but I let the sentence trail off, as though I couldn’t quite place her. The slight tightening of her jaw was delicious. Of course, I wasn’t ready to humiliate her just yet.

“Raven,” she said curtly.

“Ah, yes. Of course. Lady…?”

“Just Raven.”

How very… provincial. “Well, Just Raven, I’m certain we shall become quite… acquainted.” I smiled sweetly, though I didn’t mean a word of it.

The formal greetings and the meetings concluded, and soon enough, I was ushered into the castle’s guest wing. My rooms were adequate, high ceilings, a fireplace, and heavy drapes that looked as if they’d been woven sometime before my birth. Still, they would do.

Once my ladies were busy unpacking, I slipped away into the adjoining chamber, a small, private study that had been prepared for my use. The fire here burned low, casting long shadows across the floor.

I closed the door.

The room seemed empty, but I knew better. I crossed to the writing desk and pressed my hand against the carved panel on the side. A faint click, and the panel shifted, revealing a small, silver-etched mirror not unlike my own, though older… and far more dangerous.

The glass rippled, and then a voice, a man’s, smooth and commanding, filled the air.

“You’ve arrived.”

“As promised,” I replied, settling into the chair. “Grok is exactly as I expected, cold, dreary, and ripe for… adjustments.”

“And the players?”

I allowed myself a small smirk. “Lady Joanna is formidable. Raven had become… interesting. Rough around the edges, but she has the eyes of someone who wants more than she’s been given. Dangerous, perhaps. Or useful, if handled correctly.”

“Handle her, then. We have little time.”

“I am aware,” I said, leaning forward. “The council here is shifting. Joanna has influence, but she is not yet unassailable. The death of the neutral lord, Merek, I believe, has tipped matters, but the balance is fragile. If Raven gains traction, it could prove… inconvenient.”

There was a pause. “You will see to it that she does not.”

“Of course.”

“And Joanna?”

I smiled, though there was no warmth in it. “Oh, I think she and I could get along famously. For now.”

The mirror shimmered again, and the voice grew softer. “Do not forget why you are here, Ellie.”

“As if I could,” I said, brushing my fingers along the silver frame. “Rest assured, everything is proceeding as it should.”

The glass stilled, the connection severed.

I leaned back in the chair, tapping my nails against the armrest. Outside, the bells of Grok began to chime the hour. In the morning, I would make my appearance before the council again, dazzle them with charm, and ensure that certain seeds were planted in certain ears.

Raven would smile at me through clenched teeth. Joanna would size me up. And no one, no one would suspect that I had already begun weaving my threads through the heart of their precious court.

After all, a clueless princess is the perfect disguise.