Chapter 51

Ch. 51: Guilty Until Proven Innocent

As I stare further, my mouth opens wide enough for my jaw to threaten to dislocate. It’s my former maid alright. The same chocolate waves tumble from her head as her white maid cap is crumpled on the ground but that is where the comparison ends. This woman is beautiful. Jaw-dropping, supermodel beautiful. It’s obvious Janice has been battered around a little, but it only serves to make her more pitiful.

Her eyes have heavy lashes, giving her a constant ‘come-hither’ look. Her brows, which in the past had a soft arch, has become even more defined, and her lips are more pouty and red without any lipstick. Plastic surgery doesn’t exist in this world, and even if it did, my former maid wouldn’t be able to heal this quickly. What kind of sorcery has turned the girl-next-door into a sexy bombshell worthy of even contending with the empress beside me?

“This wicked woman has committed a grave crime against one of our own,” Robbie continues.

I realize that as the only person on the scene who has seen Janice before her suspicious beautification, I am the only one who realizes that something is very different about this maid.

“She snuck into the barracks in the dead of last night and has poisoned our commander. At this moment, he lies unconscious in his bed and feverish.”

The commander, that’s Sir Gregory! I stare at Janice in shock and in the same second she looks up, hundreds of emotions flashing in her eyes before she stares back at the floor.

My head shakes slightly at the magnitude of what Robbie’s implying. But I just can’t fathom how the girl I kicked out of the palace less than 2 months ago had the glow up of a lifetime and somehow managed to return. The situation is so far beyond what I was expecting at the maid’s sudden entry, I find my mouth floundering like a fish at the surprising sight.

My reaction, as expected of the one who runs this palace, is not missed.

.....

“Winter, do you know her?” Empress Katya asks in concern, quickly drawing attention to me before I can fall back to a poker face. She bends down slightly and pats my back as if concerned, my senses vaguely recognizing she has put gloves on. My body jerks away instinctively before seeing all the eyes that are now upon us.

I also offhandedly recall how it was common in my past life to put on gloves before we touch something that disgusts us and dispose of it.

Empress Katya successfully promotes the image of a loving mother-daughter relationship while calling attention to my strange reaction. Denying it would only make me look more suspicious, so I answer promptly in as few words as possible.

“Yes. She was my maid,” I reply curtly, not shying away from the connection between Janice and I. It seems Janice did not take my last words to heart and I cannot resist pinning a sinister glare on her.

A gasp runs through the empress’ entourage, deliberate I’m sure. The royal guards who once tossed friendly smiles in my direction now look as if they want to run me through a thousand times with their swords.

“Oh my, really?” the Empress asks, sounding similarly surprised.

“I fired her a while ago. I don’t know what she is doing here,” I answer honestly. But the glares weighing me down do not ease the slightest.

Janice is still lying on the ground, but as the Empress continues to speak, she looks at the woman pleadingly, setting off alarm bells in my head. How could Janice know the Empress? Was she the Empress’ spy in my palace? And as I consider the possibility of a connection between the two women, a terrifying realization hits me. This could be a trap.

“Winter, I believe you. Linette, go fetch the palace registry. I too wish to know how an expelled servant managed to return to the castle.”

Empress Katya is caping for me, her voice seemingly severe with anger as she wraps around me protectively. Her light floral perfume overpowers the faint manure as she draws close, the scent now making me sick. But I’ve already learned from the first time that flinching away would do me more harm than good. So I must stay still within the arms of the woman who crippled my right hand not even an hour ago.

The tides of public opinion begin to turn in my favor as Linette rushes off to retrieve the registry. There are apologetic gazes thrown my way as if I’m just a poor kid mixed up in something that wasn’t my fault. But it is no good, I realize as Katya begins to rub my back comfortingly. The higher you climb, the further you fall. The more that the empress makes it look like I’m innocent, the easier it is to convict me as the guilty party.

It is with this unease sitting low in my belly that we wait: me, Katya, and our audience, the knights of the royal guard. Before long though, another audience member joins us, making my hands crinkle my skirt in further fear and nervousness.

The royal guard bows as one. I wonder if they practice often to synchronize.

“Greetings, Your Eminence,” they say together. Duchess Taylor waves at them to stand without her usual grace, too focused on rushing into the barracks where Sir Gregory is. Tears mar her face as she and her maids rush inside to see her only child.

Janice, as a lowly maid embroiled in something that at the very least would result in the loss of her life, begins to feel the tenseness of the situation too.

“I-I can explain,” she says weakly, sounding as if she’s been up all night. A couple of knights sneer down at her, cowing the proud maid. Janice looks for aid elsewhere.

“Y-Your majesty?” she pleads to the empress.

Katya looks righteous as she stares down at Janice. Both are beautiful beyond words, but the difference between them is like the sky and the earth.

“Just tell the truth, Janice. Tell the truth, and perhaps you can be exempt from capital punishment,” the empress replies slowly and clearly as if speaking to a child.

I understand the hidden meaning at the same time as Janice and we both immediately stare at each other. But this time, I’m the prey and she’s the predator. Seeing how venomously Janice is suddenly looking at me, I wish I hadn’t been so quick to make an example of her at the Rose Palace. I should’ve chosen someone more docile and malleable.

Linette is returning. The eagle-eyed knights notice her first in the distance, then Janice. And my former maid quickly makes a decision that is not in my favor. I shake my head at her once. Don’t. Please don’t. But if there is one thing I’ve learned about Janice in the short time I knew her, there is nothing that girl isn’t willing to do in her self interest.

A shakey hand rises from the ground, filthy with mud as she points at me. The anger and terror transform into anguished tears at the drop of a hat, pretty tears flowing down Janice’s face as she, with her own mouth, tears off the veil of innocence Katya kindly placed upon me.

“Her! It was her!” Raw sobs shake her voice and make her accusation more convincing. “Princess Winter ordered me to seduce Sir Gregory so that the royal guard could support her!”

Damning words. The outcry is instant. Pity turns to disgust at the drop of a hat, a few swords being drawn in fury. All around me, people stare at me as if I’m inhuman, a monster, a disease. Katya’s maidservants, following in the footsteps of their Oscar-worthy master, stumble back, one or two acting like weak-hearted women and crying.

As for my ‘mother’? The empress doesn’t let go yet, so devoted is she to making it seem like she truly cares for me as a child. But she allows her arms that are caging me to shake, for her face to mouth the word, no, over and over again as if she just cannot believe what she has heard.

Janice has already given me the title of a schemer, it is a burden too difficult for me to remove myself. But knowing that doesn’t make the weight of this unwanted crime any easier.

“That’s not true!” I insist, all the while knowing that anything else I say will only make me guiltier. “I-I fired her for her poor service and have never seen her since!”

“I believe her,” Katya bravely insists, as all the while the odds turn in her favor. “The palace registry will back up her claim!”

My stepmother just looks like a devoted mother who wouldn’t believe the worst of her child. But if that were true, why would she conveniently remind everyone about the palace registry? Looking at the innocuous booklet in Linette’s arm, I remember just how easy it is to forge writing in an era where the computer hasn’t been invented yet.

“Your Majesty,” Linette says deferentially, handing the booklet to the empress’ shaking hands. Her head is bowed, but I’m short enough to see the triumphant smirk on her face. I’m done for. I know it.

The sobbing maids conveniently fall silent as Katya flips through the pages, pushing the knights to similarly quiet down their infuriated roars and curses.

“Disgusting wench,” someone mutters.

“Must be the daughter of a whore, telling people to seduce our captain at such a young age,” another spits venomously.

In the silent field, everyone can hear the not-so-quiet mutterings. But no one corrects the offenders. Perhaps, I reflect numbly, everyone is thinking the same thing.

I’ve always found the empress to be a difficult person to get a read on. However, in this instant, the woman lets off an impressive display of emotions. Her hands grip the book tightly, slightly trembling. Katya flips through page after page with a hard to conceal eagerness, making the audience believe she is truly devoted to proving my innocence. But this does not last long. At long last, her hand seems to reach the correct page and she stops, voraciously reading through with her finger underlining the sentences. Then, the pause.

A dramatic pause. Empress Katya’s green eyes fill with unshed tears, tears that never fall down her cheeks, but hang in the corner of her eye, sparkling beautifully in the afternoon sun. The verdict is all to clear as she looks at me.

“Winter...” she says weakly. Her legs teeter as if she is about to slump over into a dead faint from the shock.

“Your Majesty!” the maids chirp, rushing to support their falling mistress. She doesn’t fully faint. That would be a bit much. But as her body is supported by her dutiful attendants, Katya shakes her head at me slowly. With but one word, the verdict has been cast.

Robbie, who still stands at the front of the pack, picks up the fallen palace registry, straightening out the pages before announcing belligerently.

“Janice Hawthorn. Age 18. Currently serving in the laundry department.”

It should’ve read, expelled from the palace with no pay for offending the princess. With the laundry department being the only woman-only work area closest to the barracks, this fabricated evidence is quite damning. I don’t even say anything at the point, my heart turning to ashes as I find myself guilty of a crime I haven’t committed.

My legs grow weak under me from the severity of my situation and I tumble to the floor, my hands breaking my fall. The mud conveniently coats my blackened, ruined hands, hiding it from view before anyone notices.

“Someone get her! She’s the reason why our commander is practically on his death bed!”, an angry knight yells.

“Don’t bother. She’s half commoner, right? The law should still be able to sort her out fairly enough,” Robbie says darkly. I recall how he stared at Sir Gregory so reverently and know that under the sinister plans of another party, I have cut in him deeply.

“Robbie,” I start, rubbing my tender knees as I return to a standing position, “Think about it. Why would I even do this? I’ve never been inside the barracks, how would I not only send a maid whose never even accompanied me to the building? How could she know which room he’s in?”

A strange guilt flashes by his face at my last sentence, but it hardens as he looks at something behind me. There are fast approaching foosteps, then a burst of pain that sends tears to my eyes. Someone has slapped me.

“You, You whore’s daughter!” the duchess cries, sending another fiery hit towards my face. I move to duck, but Duchess Taylor is quick and catches me with her left hand. I know without looking that there are now two matching red palm marks on my tender skin.

A flurry of anxiousness at the sight of the woman who just days before handed me matching earrings makes my mouth dry.

“D-Duchess Taylor, it wasn’t me!” I insist. I can’t refute the evidence, but I hope with all my heart that someone on this field will eventually take into account that this level of scheming is too difficult for a young girl on the eve of her 6th birthday.

“I can’t believe I trusted you and took you for my niece. Dare to plot against my son after I treated you so well. You are not worthy of those gold eyes!”