Rise of the Unfavored Princess-Chapter 140

Chapter 140: Ch. 139: Husband Hunting

“Marie,” I moan, my face buried in my arms as she diligently does my hair as usual. “I need to find a husband, fast.”

I can feel my nursemaid’s body shake with silent laughter as she buttons me up into a dress that makes me look far sweeter than I truly am. The budget allotted to me has slowly risen over the years, so even though it’s still a far cry from Julia, I’m still living lavishly on the surface.

“A good marriage will be chosen for you by your parents,” Marie cautions. But she knows who my parents are and she knows what nearly happened yesterday. “However it wouldn’t hurt for you to start getting to know the young gentry in the empire, your highness.”

“Precisely,” I agree. There wasn’t a hint of discomfort in my father’s eyes as he prepared to give away my future to the kingdom of Aidel. It would be best to secure a potential marriage before something like that happens again.

“Was... was Her Majesty angry?” Marie inquired, a tad more quietly than before. She looks nervous, her hands shaking as they do up the last buttons. It makes me think back to the maid who’d silently done up my buttons in the lady’s room before I was attacked by Sir Jasper. If I were the empress, I would silence that girl so that she doesn’t accidentally say something about Sir Jasper.

“I would assume so,” I reply indifferently, playing with the miscellaneous bottles of perfume and powder on the vanity. “If I asked you to find me a maid, would you be able to do it?”

Marie thinks for a moment, her thick brows scrunching up in the mirror before she nods. “Yes, most likely.”

.....

Her years in the palace and being a princess’ nursemaid haven’t been for naught, last I heard old Marie now has significant sway within the imperial palace. Deference is shown to her when she walks around attending to her duties, yet none of it has gone to her head as she remains just as jolly as she was the day I met her.

My heart can be soft around her, the shell of a hardboiled egg breaking apart to reveal the delicate breakable flesh beneath. It’s like therapy almost.

“What for?” she adds with a curious look.

“A reward,” I spit out, my pockets already hurting even though the reward would be but a few silver coins. I’m not the empress. That time she’d made me beat Linnette made me sick and I never want to emulate such behavior.

I heave a deep breath and smile in the mirror as teeth that are slightly too big for my mouth wink back. I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine. I have the upper hand. The words run over and over through my head as I carry on my Oscar-worthy performance of pretending everything is ok.

“These ringlets make me look like a little girl,” I pout. I flick the offenders that are twined around my head, somewhat amazed that Marie managed to twist my long tendrils into a hairstyle that can hang above my shoulders. Shirley Temple could never.

“You are a little girl, your highness. And they are very much in style these days,” Marie huffs, patting down the last few wrinkles in my dress.

“Don’t remind me,” I inwardly roll my eyes. “The only good thing about being little is that I haven’t started my monthly bleeding yet.”

Marie’s mouth falls into a perfect O in the mirror and I belatedly remember that I have not received any sex education in this life yet. If only Marie knew I’ve experienced just about everything in my past life except actual intercourse, I fear she would never recover from that shock.

Speaking of blood, I want to punch Amir in the face hard enough for blood to spurt out like a cheesy cartoon. The amazement wore off sometime during the night and has been replaced by a seed of incessant anger that sits in the pit of my stomach. Just thinking about it makes my breath come out heavier than it should.

“Is the dress too tight?” Marie checks the laces. I don’t have to start wearing corsets yet, but the boning and rigid structure on these old-fashioned dresses do take some getting used to.

“No, it’s fine,” I murmur.

It’s not fine! I was toyed with, treated like a joke! Who knows, when I’d threatened him in my chambers how much he laughed when he departed. In my mind’s eye, his ever-present smile turns mocking, almost like Julian’s when we were still cool with each other. The delicate glass bottles before me begin to tremble in fear as they start looking like good stress relievers for me to throw around the room. I need a distraction and I pinch the bridge of my nose as I take a deep breath.

“Augustus has his coming-of-age ceremony tonight. That means he will be able to get married soon, right?” I ask cheerfully.

I can tell I’ve weirded out Marie a bit, but she still answers with a calming, “Indeed, Your Majesty.”

“I wonder what kind of wife he will have,” I muse. “Do you think she’ll be prettier than me?” I add playfully.

In the books, red-haired Clara had been described as a fiery, passionate beauty who could snatch one’s breath away with a single, innocent look. But in retrospect, she sounds like the typical, basic cocktail for most female leads in the novelkisss I used to love: a concoction of naivete, self-righteousness, and completely unaware of how gobsmackingly pretty she is until one of the male leads tells her.

To think that Augustus fell for such a girl who not only did nothing for his political career but also gave him extra hindrances on his path to the throne. If there’s one thing I’m looking forward to if I manage to make it past 16 years old, it is making sure that Clara never catches Augustus’ eye!

“Of course not,” Marie sings, patting my cheeks which have distressingly begun to lose the chubbiness of youth. “You are the loveliest little girl I’ve seen in my entire life, your highness.”

“Hmph. I’m almost 12. I’m too old for cheek pats,” I whine as I subtly slide in closer for more.

“One is never too old for cheek pats,” Marie wisely counters. Truer words have never been spoken.

“Do you pat your nephew’s cheeks?” 𝑓𝚛𝚎ℯ𝘸𝙚𝘣𝚗𝘰νeƖ.c𝒐𝐦

“You mean, Leif? But of course!”

If I said I wasn’t jealous, I’d be lying. I’m glad that Marie has a great relationship with her sister’s son considering she has none of her own, but for once I’d like someone entirely devoted to me. Someone whose world starts and stops with Winter Royberg de la Erudian.

But then again I’m also a mature 30 something year old on the inside so I understand it is irrational and selfish to expect someone to care solely about me. A girl can dream, right?

That starry eyed look hasn’t left Marie’s eyes, I can tell she loves her nephew a lot. “He’s to be married soon. He fancies a girl he met by the docks. She’s a very sweet thing who makes marvelous tea.”

“With how much tea everyone around here drinks, it must be a lucrative industry,” I mutter sourly.

Sometimes I feel like I’d willingly give my left arm for an ice cold glass of coke. But other than lemonade, other fruit drinks, and alcohol, the drink options in this world are quite limited. Speaking of drinks, a fierce resolve overtakes me as I remember talking about coffee with Amir. Lying prick or not, we need to iron out the details for importing coffee to the Erudian Empire.

“You seem stressed, your highness,” Marie comments, her brows knitting together in worry.

“There are many things to worry about.” The empress’ rebuttal. Sir Jasper’s psychotic delusions of marrying me. Augustus having a successful ceremony. Amir being a Traveler, after all Julian has shown me that there is no solidarity amongst us, even though we are literally siblings. Oh yes, and finding a husband.

“It will be good once all the foreign delegates leave and the crown prince has a successful coming-of-age ceremony,” Marie pats my shoulders to reassure me.

“I can only hope so. But remind me once Leif does actually get married. I will send him a gift.”

Marie curtsies instantly, her eyes shining with gratefulness. “Thank you, your highness!”

Rejuvenated by Marie’s joy, I suddenly perk up. “Where is Emma? I can trust her judgement when it comes to finding the most eligible bachelors in the capital.”

“How so? She is an unmarried girl just like you. You may prefer the opinion of someone who interacts often with the noblemen in the capital, your highness,” Marie disagrees quickly.

A familiar sandy haired boy comes to mind and I slap the table. “Elias! Elias would be perfect!”

“To marry?” Marie asks out of the blue.

“What?” I scoff. The only thing that could’ve surprised me more than that question would be if Marie had turned around and flashed me. “No, I mean he’d be perfect to vet any of my options for a fiance.”

“Oh...” My nursemaid trails off listlessly.

If I’d been looking at Marie’s face right this instant, I would’ve seen the confusion then deep contemplation that overtook her wise, older face. But instead, I’m too busy mentally concocting the cast of the newest season of The Bachelorette, starring me of course.