Oh god, this is so awkward.

Irene thought she was losing her mind. Why didn't the princess ever talk? This is why people call her the Ghost Princess.

Irene was personally assigned to Princess Lecil mainly because one else wanted the job. However, it never entailed anything more than wheeling in a food cart and leaving. It wasn't that Irene necessarily wished to speak with the princess. What would they talk about? The weather?

Even if she suddenly asked me to brush her hair, this is unbearable.

Lecil sat on a chair facing a framed mirror atop a mahogany dresser. The top was littered with second-hand makeup implements and cosmetics. A small journal was tucked underneath a paperweight-sized clock that ticked each second away. Irene timed the length of each brushstroke.

Glancing up for a second at the reflection, she could see herself half-hidden behind Lecil, combing the princess' inky hair.

That horrible mess of bedhead. How could such an atrocity come into being?

Irene blanched at the memory of it. The only explanation she could arrive at was the the Princess was practicing head spins on top of her covers. That image was similarly haunting.

Is she still staring at me?

Chancing another glance up, she stopped midway and jerked. Princess Lecil has been glaring at Irene the entire time. Was she combing too hard? Just in case, Irene made each pass as gentle as could be. That wasn't it because Irene still felt a piercing glare.

Huh? My grip is suddenly slippery. It must be the brush. It certainly couldn't be due to sweat. Haha. Ha. Ha~

Was the princess still angry about a weak ago?

Irene didn't know why she did it. The spoiled food was already placed on the cart when she arrived in the kitchen, asking to delivered. Irene didn't think about why it was there or why she decided to serve it. Or the consequences of serving it.

It was the anticipation of punishment that never came that was slowly wittingly away at her psyche. Prince Tristan didn't fire or scold her; he just had her bring appropriate food. None of the cooks cared despite being the ones to set it all up. The King didn't know, and Irene wasn't about to bring it to his attention.

"Irene."

"Eep!"

Irene jittered with a startled squeak. When she slowly craned her neck to peek at Lecil's reflection, the princess was smiling. Irene recognized it for how similar it was to Princess Anne. It was sweet and innocent with a hidden promise.

"Yes, princess?"

"Do you remember breakfast about a week ago?"

This is it. My life is over.

"Aha... ah. Yes, Princess. I remember."

"I want you to tell me why you did what you did."

Irene panicked; she fell to her knees. Attached to side of Lecil with terrified tears in her eyes, Irene pleaded.

"Princess, please, have mercy. I have no idea why I did such a thing. It was a spur-of-the-moment action; there was no other food out; the chefs were gone; I just took the food without thinking; I served it without believing you would eat it. Not off the floor. Never. Your highness, please..."

Irene prevented herself from clutching at Lecil's clothing in desperation.

The Ghost Princess peered down regally at an incoherent Irene.

"Why did you never speak to me when bringing me food."

"I-I thought, I thought that you, you wouldn't want to see my face. You never even turned around when I brought you food before, so, so, I..."

Irene thought about it. Should she have apologized outright? Did she have to wait to be addressed? Should she have tried harder? It was her fault for giving up in the first place. Why did she give up?

"I thought of swapping with another maid, but none of them wanted the job."

"Hmm."

Awaiting judgment, Irene watched Princess Lecil's pondering in intense anticipation. Was she going to be fired? Would she be accepted by the other camps afterward?

Suddenly, the princess stood and floated over to the sitting area. Irene remained frozen in place, watching. She cringed when Lecil started dragging a sofa chair.

"Princess? Princess, what are you doing? You will hurt yourself."

Lecil rolled her eyes.

"Bring over that stool and set it down in the center of the room."

"..."

Irene glanced at the much smaller sitting stool, and then back princess dragging the massive chair, back to the wooden one that sported a large groove along one leg.

Shouldn't our loads be reversed?

When Irene continued to hesitate, Lecil articulated between burst of energy.

"If you fail at such a simple task we can consider your employment terminated without pay."

Several grunts from the princess later two chairs faced each other. Lecil sat herself down on the wobbly wooden stool. It had once been an ornate chair deserving of palace, but unexpected damage caused it to become to be downgraded into what it was now.

The Princess gestured to the plump sofa chair.

"Sit."

"Princess, I could never-"

"Sit."

"Aah... understood."

=

Irene was clearly uncomfortable. The chair was plush, grand, and extremly soft, so the nervous maid sat on the edge to avoid getting too comfortable. When Irene stopped fidgeting, Lecil scooted her chair even closer, causing the fidgeting restart.

Lecil glanced at the doors, conscious of the possibility of someone barging in again. Deciding that wasn't acceptable, she got up and locked the doors before sitting back down. She made sure she was within arm's reach of the tanned maid. That peculiar fact made Lecil curious, but there were more pressing matters at the moment.

"Irene. Tell me everything leading up to breakfast that morning from your point of view."

She did. Laying out everything in as much detail as possible, hoping and pleading for mercy. Irene really didn't know what she was doing or why. It made no sense unless Irene had a suicide wish. If she pulled that stunt on another member of the royal family Irene would find her head rolling off a chopping block.

Lecil listened diligently, nodding in places and making interesting humming sounds to keep Irene on her toes. By the end, Lecil's fingers were gently massaged her temple.

"I see. It seems worse than I thought."

Irene tilted her head.

"Princess?"

"Hm? Oh. Do you remember Tristan's actions?"

Irene nodded rapidly.

"I didn't think he would be so cruel as to spill your meal, even if it was, erm, what it was. I couldn't believe my eyes when you sat down and ate that week-old bread."

Lecil shook her head.

"No. I mean, do you understand why Tristan did it."

"No, princess I've never seen the Prince act that way. He is usually such a caring person."

Lecil half-snorted. That nonsensical answer was the entire reason Lecil was worried.

"Tristan? No. You can't honestly believe that. You don't remember him ever acting out?"

Irene was genuinely confused. She didn't interact or come into contact with Tristan as much of the other staff did, but he was chivalrous every time she did. The other maids and staff all loved him and bragged about how he well he treated them. He was less demanding and gave more days off than anybody else.

Lecil listened to it all passively.

"You don't remember Tristan reaching for his sword?"

"His sword? But, he wasn't wearing his sword."

What was she saying? That the Prince wanted to kill his sister? Even if they were half-siblings, that was way over the line. How would he get away with it? He would ruin his chances at becoming King and would be forced into exile. Tristan would never risk such a thing. His cruel actions towards Princess Lecil at breakfast were an odd and singular deviation.

"Irene."

The princess was suddenly standing. Irene craned her neck all the way back.

"You haven't looked into my eyes since you've entered."

What was she talking about? Irene was looking at her now. She was the picture of a princess. Her hair was recently messy, but otherwise, she was beautiful! Everything Irene imagined a princess would be like.

Lecil appeared exhausted like she hadn't slept in ages. Dark circles ringed her eyes. How did Irene miss that?

"Princess, your eyes. Have you not been sleeping? Why did you not say anything? I could have requested sleeping pills for you."

Lecil backed up a step, clutching her stomach.

Laughing. It was full-bellied, loud, nearly insane laughing.

Irene wanted to stand up from the expensive chair and intervene, but she was petrified.

"Hahaha!"

The laughter was raw. Like the princess was speaking through a dry throat.

"That is the first thing you noticed? Hehe-he, well, I suppose it is true. I slept like a baby last night, but I haven't slept for an entire week."

"Princess, you should-"

"Stop!"

Irene jerked. Lecil became so severe. Deadly. Sharp as a knife.

"Stop and look at me! What do you see? You see the circles around my eyes yet not the most important thing? Do you simply not want to see it, or does the magic run that deep?"

Irene blinked. Other than the dark circles. There wasn't anything.

"If you still can't see, maybe a different angle will help you."

Lecil stepped up onto the wooden stool. It wobbled precariously as she stood to her full height. Irene had enough. The Princess would fall like this. She finally stood up to support the princees, but, again, Lecil's forceful words stopped her.

"Wait. Hold. Just a moment. Let me pose this right."

Irene stared up at Lecil, who stood on her tiptoes in her nightgown.

The color in Irene's face left her.

A carved wooden ceiling backdropped a shining chandelier. Irene was cast in Lecil's small shadow as the princess tilted her head back, an illusionary noose tied around her neck. Black and blue. Fading greens and yellow. A horrid hue stained Lecil like a morbid scarf.

Irene shook. Her pupils vibrated as a hand moved up to cover her open mouth.

Lecil rolled up her sleeves and let her arms dangle and her sides. Layers of color and fading injuries covered her arms. Two old horizontal slashes scarred her wrists, a tale of sorrow past.

Irene was trembled with emotion. Explosions popped off inside her head. The signs were everywhere, popping out like an infestation. Through the transparency of Lecil's nightgown, Irene took in the discoloration centered in Lecil's chest. More on her stomach and lower ribs. She tracked down a yellow bruise of down hip and thigh.

Yet, her feet and calves were left pristine. Her fingers unscarred. A face layered in makeup.

Irene fell.

How old are those scars? Why did I never wonder why the princess always wore long sleeves? Why no one else worked under the Princess? Was it because Princess Lecil wanted to hide this? If she wanted to hide it, she wouldn't be showing it to me now. Has everyone just avoided her and thought her crazy? Wait a minute. Wasn't I doing the same thing just moments ago?

Her perceived world was breaking like glass. Irene felt a cascade as firewalls shattering. Several of the chains binding her broke.

"I don't blame you."

"Huh?"

Irene's voice was meek and barely audible. Lecil stepped down, sitting. She ran a thumb over the scar on her right wrist.

"I know your actions aren't your own. Just like how I didn't want to kill myself."

The words didn't make sense to her, but they felt oddly comforting all the same. It wasn't Irene's fault? Even when she ignored all the signs? Even though she was a personal attendant that never actually attended her. The bruises. An attempted suicide.

"I hope you forgive me for waking you up this way. An illness of the mind isn't something easily cured."

"Wake up? Illness?"

Lecil took pity on the quaking maid. Placing a gentle hand on Irene's upper arm caused the shivering to subside.

Locking eyes, the dark purple flecks blazing in Lecil's eyes served to dry up Irene's tears before they fell.

Lecil didn't care how long it took to burn away the infection or melt all these binding chains. Celia's resolve would never waver.

After all...

They had two souls to burn through.