The Tea Party in the Greenhouse

We had always shared a bed, but we had never once slept pressed together. More often than not, he sat working on the sofa well into the night.

Since I was usually the one to fall asleep first, I'd rarely even felt as though we were "sleeping together" at all.

And even if we did—so what? There was nothing to fret over. I had no illusions that this arrangement meant building any genuine closeness with him.

His interest in me was purely because I was a "useful tool." He would never lean toward me out of personal affection.

Honestly, the wedding night had been… unexpected. But since nothing of the sort had happened again after that day, I had brushed it off entirely.

"…Your Highness."

"It's time to sleep. Is there still work left to do?"

At his easygoing manner, a faint premonition flickered through me. Something told me I wasn't going to get a comfortable night's rest. My head already ached with all I had to think about from the banquet.

I clasped my hands tightly together inside the sleeve of my nightgown, which hung loose and generous around me.

"Your Highness, tonight… may I ask why you aren't lying facing outward, as you usually do?"

Even that much was his prerogative—I had no standing to dictate how he should lie—so I took care not to sound presumptuous.

Henrik's lips curved into a very faint smile.

"Attilenta. Are you uncomfortable?"

While I hesitated over whether to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠admit it or deny it with further courtesies, his voice drifted quietly through the bedchamber.

"I was not in a good mood today either. Because of your actions."

"…I understand what you are saying, Your Highness."

Apparently, his pride had been wounded far more deeply than I'd imagined. Just as Antoni had said—even if Henrik had come to find me without a single eye catching sight of him, he had still learned the truth in the end.

And this was Henrik, a man of war. There had never been a single thing that did not go his way. No—even if such a moment had existed, he was the sort who would have bent his path forward by sheer will regardless.

Somehow, I ran my tongue lightly over my dried lips. What I wanted more than anything in that moment was to gulp down a glass of cold water.

"That said, as I made clear before, nothing happened that would trouble you—nothing that would count as breaking the promise I gave you."

"There is nothing amiss now, either. My lady."

Just as I had my reasons, he wasn't wrong about a single thing either. If I made a fuss here, I risked looking like a woman manufacturing ceremony where none was needed.

In the end, I lay down quietly beside him.

His breathing sounded as calm as ever.

This close, pressed side by side—it was truly the first time since that night. There was no distance left between us at all; I could feel his breath, the warmth laced through it, even a faint, subtle scent.

Awkwardness seized me at once, and I couldn't bring myself to face him. I turned my body away, pretending to shift in my sleep.

He kept watching me—I was certain of it. Watching my back as I squirmed.

"You smell lovely."

He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clearly knew I hadn't fallen asleep yet. I did my best to answer with the same composed poise he showed.

"It's a scented oil Poznan recommended."

My heart was anything but tranquil. Wait—wasn't this the same oil the entire royal family used? Could he be lavishing compliments on me in this atmosphere because he wanted something from me?

"I see."

He offered nothing more.

And so, until the small hours, I slept fitfully, turning over in my mind the traitor's true intentions and my ally's unspoken designs. What a strange night it had been.

"Your Highness, Princess Warsza has sent you an invitation to a tea party."

Poznan handed me the gilt-edged invitation with her usual composed expression.

"It feels as though I haven't had a single day of rest lately."

The grand banquet where Antoni had appeared felt like only yesterday, yet my schedule was piling up one engagement after another.

"I imagine it must feel that way to you, Your Highness. A string of events like the recent sacred festival of Lord Błęndia is expected to continue for some time. You will be busy all winter long."

"I see. Poznan, you mentioned before that there's a gathering at the temple coming up, didn't you?"

"Yes—a gathering where every member of the royal family will be in attendance. One could call it the most important event of this winter. The tea party hosted by Princess Warsza will also draw ladies famous throughout high society."

As I listened to Poznan's explanation, I opened the invitation and read it. A tea party, in this bitter cold? As it turned out, it was to be held in the greenhouse the Princess tended herself.

The royal greenhouse—the very name seemed a monument to wealth. True to her nature, Warsza had written in a neat, bouncy hand:

My eyes narrowed ever so slightly. If all the daughters of the powerful noble houses would be gathered there, then Tatra would come too.

Which meant it would be anything but a pleasant occasion.

"Very well. Take care of my preparations that day as well, Poznan."

I had no right to choose for myself in these matters. Least of all when it came to anything involving Princess Warsza, who stood close to Henrik.

"Leave it to me, Your Highness. I will do my utmost."

That evening, during an ordinary dinner with Henrik, I explained the situation, and he offered this piece of advice.

"…And so, I have decided to attend the Princess's tea party—but I doubt I'll have any use for my abilities."

The dining hall held only me, Henrik, and the knight he trusted most, Sir Krakow. The company had grown thinner of late, so I could speak of magic without reserve.

Reporting to Henrik was obligatory, but I genuinely saw no need to use magic for something like this. It was precious enough that I begrudged spending it even on important battles.

Besides, honestly, I judged I could handle whatever nuisance might arise that day. I had a fair ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠grasp by now of what sort of woman Tatra was.

"As you wish."

Henrik spoke quietly, his expression calm.

"I would only add this: if you wish to get along with Warsza, get along with Marie."

"I've known from the start that cats matter a great deal to the Princess. I will keep it firmly in mind once more."

Henrik drew up the corner of his smooth mouth into the faintest smile.

"I expected nothing less from you. Then we shall speak of it when you return that day."

The day of the tea party arrived. Poznan had clearly put considerable effort into my appearance again today—every ornament I wore, down to the last detail, was neither excessive nor lacking. When I followed a servant into the greenhouse, Warsza was the first to greet me.

She was surrounded by her cats.

"Your Highness, you've come! To think I'd have the chance to show you my greenhouse—I've been fluttering with excitement all day."

The greenhouse held not only Marie, the grey cat with the strangely knowing eyes I'd been introduced to before, but many other cats besides.

They roamed freely about the space without any restrictions, or dozed lazily in patches of sunlight.

"Thank you for the invitation, Your Highness."

Warsza led me toward a table laid with pastries and sweets, laughing softly and elegantly—hoh hoh.

"If you'd like, Your Highness, you may hold one of the cats. I keep several especially gentle ones."

Then Warsza drew her chair closer to mine and lowered her voice to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a whisper.

"This is how I judge people, you see. I watch which of them the cats choose to approach. They're docile creatures, but remarkably sensitive ones."

I found it an interesting method.

I'd heard somewhere that those who cherish animals are kind at heart. Perhaps that was the basis of her judgment.

Or else—

Just like Henrik, perhaps Warsza was actually wielding magic of her own.

I sat quietly, nodding my assent. Warsza continued to stroke the cat Marie cradled in her arms.

"My brother favors this one above all the others."

Her voice remained low and soft, pitched for my ears alone.

"Your Highness—I heard that you were acquainted with the Duke who attended the last banquet."

I neither let my expression change nor parted my lips easily. A princess like Warsza could surely have unearthed the fact of my divorce without difficulty. When I held my seat with unshaken composure, Warsza continued, as though to tell me not to worry.

"Of course, I will keep it secret. My brother is a man with far too much on his hands already… I'd rather not give him anything more to fret over."

I felt as though I was confirming, yet again, everything I had already anticipated. The bond between those siblings was clearly no ordinary one.

"So you and I will get along splendidly, Your Highness. Hoh hoh. Do simply relax and enjoy yourself today."

"I am grateful for your consideration. And the greenhouse—how beautiful and lavish it is. I confess I'm simply astonished by such an unfamiliar vista, Your Highness."

Maintaining my courteous manner throughout, I offered a few measured compliments—the brilliant flowers in bloom, the trees that lent the space an exotic air, and so on.

I was enjoying an easy conversation with the beaming Warsza when—

"Your Highness, so here you are. The daughter of House Biauby pays her respects. Fearing there might be some misunderstanding between us over past matters, I wished to see you and clear the air as soon as possible."

Tatra approached, her golden hair cascading down—as lovely as the great blossoms flowering throughout the greenhouse.

"Lady Biauby. Have you been well?"

Inside, quite different words leapt to my tongue. Misunderstanding? What misunderstanding? I know perfectly well that making me feel inferior was your strategy from the very start.