After her meeting with the queen, she’s escorted to her room by the same footman who’d shown her to the queen’s sitting room. But before Aster can utter so much as a word of thanks, he’s already gone.

I know he’s a footman, but isn’t that a little too quick?

Amused despite herself, Aster steps into her room and is quickly overcome by the scent of flowers.

It’s a familiar perfume; sweet, spicy, and the last thing she had expected in this place. She traces the source of it to a tall vase of carnations sitting on the study table in her new room, the lush white blossoms tinged with a pink so dark they seemed almost maroon.

“Oh.” Nostalgia catches her breath in her throat. How had they known?

Wide windows by her study area beckon the sunlight in with open arms, especially welcome when there was so little of it in this weather. A large bookshelf is nestled by the wall beside her study’s desk, shelves bare and waiting to be filled. As she wanders further inside, she steps onto a round rug under her feet, patterned with more flowers. Not the carnations she loves so much, but a motley of spring flowers interwoven with tangles of leaves and vines. A set of wide double doors stands sentry by her study area, leading out to what she assumes is her room’s accompanying balcony. The panes of glass in the doors’ wood make for the perfect frame, capturing the marble of the banister set against a wide swath of sky. Perfect for stargazing, she thinks to herself dreamily.

A dressing table sits by the entrance to her balcony, its accompanying mirror fitted with a delicate frame of carved dark wood. But the true centrepiece of her room is the large canopy bed against the wall, fitted with deep purple curtains and silk sheets. The luggage she’d brought along from home sits at the foot of her bed, trunks waiting to be unpacked.

Despite not having seen much of the palace yet, she has a hunch that her quarters are somewhat less lavish compared to the rest of the place. Her room doesn't seem to be any less grand or comfortable, but it feels like special care had been taken so the décor would suit her tastes.

It feels a little like home, in a way.

While the Vastein Estate is esteemed and charming in its own right, Aster’s childhood home isn't a place of excessive luxury. Her father has never been one for opulence or overindulging, and she’d taken after him in that regard. Rather than golden embellishments or glittering crystal, her home had adorned itself with mother nature’s gifts. Flowers of every colour and variety bloomed on the grounds, decorating the Vastein Estate as grandly as any precious gemstone could.

Not to say that her father is a flowers kind of man. He's more steel and armour and practicality to a fault.

Yet, he always crumbled when it came to her mother.

“The gardens weren’t always this beautiful,” she remembers the maids in the estate telling her as a child. “Not half as grand as they are now. But then the Duke met his wife, and now you can’t take half a step without smelling the scent of flowers.”

For more than anyone else, her mother loved flowers dearly. And a personal favourite of both hers and Aster’s, were carnations. The memory of her mother brings to mind her broken necklace, and Aster slips a hand down her dress, fumbling for the locket where she’d stashed it earlier.

Oh Hale, had it actually slipped out while she was walking?

She retraces her steps in her mind, trying to remember if she’d felt anything slip out of her skirts. So caught up in her recollection, she barely registers the quiet knock on the door, nor the person who slips into her room moments later.

“Good afternoon, Lady Aster. I am-“

Aster looks up to meet the girl’s gaze, a hand still shoved down her bodice. “Uh,” Aster says eloquently. “I can explain.”

For someone who’s walked in on such a situation, the girl’s expression is impressively composed. She’s dressed in the blue and grey garb of the palace staff, her dark hair pulled up into a bun.

“So the thing is,” Aster says, having the grace to pull her hand out from her dress before continuing. “While I was in the carriage on my way to the palace, my necklace broke. But I didn’t have anywhere to put it due to the unfortunate nature of the way of dress that ladies of nobility are forced to contend with, Hale don’t even get me started on the abysmal lack of practical pockets on these dresses-“

Aster Vastein, shut up, shut up.

“Annnnnd I’m rambling,” Aster finishes lamely, short of clamping a hand over her mouth so she can’t barrage the poor servant girl with more of her nonsense. “Oh Hale. You know what, if you would excuse me for just one second.”

The girl remains at the entry, face impassive as ever as Aster proceeds to do a little dance around the carpet: a cross between shimmying in place while she repeatedly hops around in a small circle. After a few moments, a faint clink can be heard as something lands on the carpet.

“Aha!” Aster bends over to scoop up the necklace. “So it did slip out!”

“I’m glad you found your necklace, my lady.”

“Thank you!” Aster straightens up brightly, seconds before reality gives the back of her head a figurative slap to make her recall the terrible first impression she’d just made. “I… uh. I’m terribly sorry you had to witness that.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my lady,” the girl says. “Please don’t worry.”

“Ah. O… Okay.” Aster fumbles a little where she stands, unsure of where to go from here. “This is a little belated on my part, but you are…?”

“My name is Seraphina, my lady. I am to serve you as your personal maid.”

“Oh. I see.”

Eloquence, thine name is Aster Vastein.

She resists from fidgeting with her fingers as her mind continues to draw a blank. Think Aster, think! What would Damien do in a situation like this?

“It’s beautiful.” Aster blurts. “Your name, that is. It sounds very pretty.”

For the first time, Aster can spot what she thinks is a hint of surprise on Seraphina’s face. It’s gone in an instant before she can be sure of it. “Thank you, my lady. You flatter me.” She steps further into the room. “I’ve been informed that you won’t be joining the royal family for dinner this evening, so your meal will be brought up shortly. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She makes a move for the trunks sitting at the foot of Aster’s bed.

Aster sets her mother’s necklace on the dresser before plopping onto the floor beside Seraphina to help with unpacking.

“My lady, you needn’t trouble yourself with this,” Seraphina says as she watches Aster rifle through a trunk full of dresses.

“But I want to help. Please?”

Seraphina gives her an odd look. “You don’t have to ask my permission for anything, my lady. You are to be the future wife of the crown prince, after all.”

Aster wrinkles her nose as she pulls out a lavender dress edged with fine lace. It’s something she’s known all her life. A fact she’d first viewed with disgust, then hope, then an odd, conflicting mix of both. But to hear about her status from someone else is…

“It’s so weird,” she says aloud, more to herself than anything else. “I haven’t seen him face to face since we were kids. And now, I’m set to marry the guy come next year.” She lifts the dress up by its sleeves to let it fall open. Maybe she’d wear this one to breakfast tomorrow. Her old maids had liked it because they thought it went nicely with her hair and brought out the violet of her eyes. Aster just liked it because it was one of her less fussy dresses.

“I see,” Seraphina says. “I apologise, would you rather I not refer to you in that manner?”

“Oh no, you don’t have to apologise! I’m fine with being referred to that way, really. It’ll just… take some getting used to.”

The future wife of the crown prince.

How… daunting.

The two of them fall silent as they go through the rest of Aster’s luggage. Inwardly, Aster curses her year of solitude and the damage it’s done to her social skills.

“How old are you, Seraphina?” Aster ventures.

“Me? I am sixteen this year, my lady.”

Aster brightens up in an instant. Sixteen! It’s been so long since she’s been in the company of someone her age.

“If I’m not mistaken, you are of the same age, yes, my lady?”

“That’s right!” Aster beams. “Uh-“

Seraphina waits patiently for her to continue.

“Can I… Can I call you Fina?”

There’s the barest twitch of her lips. Aster can’t tell if it’s a smile or something else.

“Whatever you wish, my lady.”