Chapter 5
The noble lady Martina, daughter of Duke Alba, whom she served, was one of the girls being discussed as a match for Bastian. Bastian was dithering, so they hadn’t become officially engaged yet, but there were rumors they would be betrothed before the year ended. Martina was one of the nobles who looked down on Clara. So this maid was copying her mistress and looking down on me too.
“Your Highness. It’s an honor to meet you. I was in a hurry while passing by… may I take my leave?”
‘Wow, how perfunctory.’
If that’s what passes for greeting, she might as well not bother. I frowned.
“Is that what you call a greeting?”
“What’s all this commotion?”
A high voice cut between us. I turned and saw the maid’s mistress — Martina.
“Whatever business would my maid have with the princess?”
Martina walked over haughtily, fanning herself. Now I understood why the maid was here: to see Bastian, of course. If you follow the path I came from, you’ll find Bastian. He’s probably still resting on the bench. It looked like Martina had sent her maid ahead to check whether Bastian was there. Still, she could have at least greeted me properly — I was royalty, after all.
Martina, at least, gave a proper bow to me. Then she asked again.
“You were speaking with my maid. What was the matter?”
“She pretended not to see me when I was right in front of her,” I answered.
Martina narrowed her eyes at that. She looked as if she found my claim preposterous.
“Impossible. My maid is very polite. She must not have noticed the princess.”
“She looked annoyed to me.”
I widened my eyes and said it plainly. Sara, standing beside me, watched me nervously. I suppose she worried I was going to pick a fight with Martina.
‘But how long am I supposed to stand being snubbed?’
Martina never treated Clara like proper royalty. She strutted about the social scene as if she’d be queen someday, and a timid princess hiding in the palace must have seemed easy to belittle. Clara even looked meek. Martina’s gaze toward Clara was nothing but contempt, and she’d gossiped behind Clara’s back with other noble ladies. If Clara hadn’t overheard by chance, she would have remained completely unaware.
“Oh my, Princess Clara. Whatever do you mean… Marie, did you pretend not to see the princess because she annoyed you?”
Martina fluttered her fan and asked her maid in a showy tone. The maid shook her head frantically.
“No! I was looking at the ground as I walked; I didn’t even realize the princess was there.”
‘What a lie. I watched her back away step by step.’
Martina lifted her chin at me.
“Then perhaps you should be understanding, Your Highness.”
I smiled brightly at her.
“What if I won’t let it go?”
Originally I’d planned to call the maid over, scold her, and move on, but Martina’s attitude made me not want to let it slide so easily. Martina frowned at my unexpected reply and laughed nervously.
“Princess. I’m on my way to an audience with His Majesty the King. I’d appreciate it if we could keep this brief.”
Shall I wait until Bastian leaves the garden?
“You’re not summoned by His Majesty, are you? Talk with me a little longer. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Princess?”
Martina’s mouth twitched. My smile widened. Bastian would probably tolerate this, I figured. It wasn’t because I thought I was close to Bastian — no. It was about Bastian and Martina’s relationship. Although there were marriage talks, Bastian didn’t like Martina. He wasn’t hostile; he was indifferent. Martina, on the other hand, had shown interest in him since he ascended the throne, and her father, Duke Alba, was among the first nobles to push for the match. Perhaps Bastian didn’t care who he married; he might find Martina annoying but didn’t reject the arrangement outright. Riding on that momentum, Duke Alba had tried to arrange the marriage last year. Unfortunately for them, Bastian wasn’t one to be cowed by noble pressure.
‘Do you want to die?’
Duke Alba should have stayed reasonable. He had publicly pressured Bastian about the match and ended up with the table overturned — a rare spectacle. That’s why Martina still hadn’t become engaged. So this wouldn’t be a big deal. I could handle it.
“How should I be dealt with so you’ll let me pass?”
Martina looked troubled. Hmm, what should I ask? I considered, then replied.
“Punish the maid who pretended not to see a princess in my place.”
“My goodness, Princess.”
Martina laughed as if what I suggested was outrageous, covering her mouth with her fan and speaking in a condescending tone.
“To punish someone just for failing to greet you? That’s a bit extreme.”
I agreed with her on the face of it. But Martina had started this. If she’d shown even a hint of remorse, I wouldn’t have gone this far. I said, innocently smiling,
“I heard you once slapped a maid for spilling water on your dress. So I don’t think you’re in a position to lecture me.”
Sara had told me that story — not the maid who stood before us. It wasn’t even wine, just water, and yet Martina had immediately struck the servant. When I mentioned it, Martina’s laughing face froze. I continued, unfazed.
“Do the exact same to her instead. She ignored a royal greeting and then lied about not seeing me.”
Martina’s expression soured, and her maid looked at Martina with alarm. Sara still looked anxious. Since I didn’t relent, Martina begrudgingly admitted the maid’s fault.
“I see. My maid’s actions were quite bad…”
She turned to the maid. The maid stared at Martina as if disbelieving. Martina raised her hand.
Smack!
“Eek!”
The maid’s face snapped to the side from the slap. It was uncomfortable. I didn’t relish making someone do that, but if I let it go, she’d keep doing it. Martina looked almost angry; in a low voice she asked me.
“Is that enough, Princess?”
Clearly her hand was strong. The maid’s cheek showed a bright red handprint.
‘What should I do?’
I decided quickly and smiled.
“No. It’s not enough.”
Martina and her maid stared at me, eyes wide. They’d missed something important.
‘She didn’t apologize to me.’
To warn Martina not to ignore me in the future, I decided to escalate.
“Think about what would happen if the same offense were committed against His Majesty the King. Probably…”
I pointed toward the maid with a smile.
“They’d say her eyes were useless and have them plucked out, wouldn’t they?”
The maid went pale. Martina forced out a laugh of disbelief.
“Princess! That’s only something His Majesty could do. How could you… do you really have the nerve to order such a punishment?”
“I haven’t tried it, but I could, I suppose. They’re siblings anyway.”
I snorted and pointed at the maid.
“If the Duke of Alba’s daughter permits it, I could do it right now.”
“Please, milady…!”
The maid cried out in terror. Wow — I had intended to be fiercer to snap Martina back to sense, and apparently it worked. Maybe the contrast between my sweet expression and the words made it worse. I spoke to the maid kindly.
“You should apologize to someone higher than you.”
The maid collapsed to her knees before me.
“I was wrong, Princess! It’s true — I pretended not to see you. I committed a grave offense!”
“Well, not quite a capital crime…”
I muttered awkwardly with a wry smile. The maid brightened slightly and looked up at me. I turned my head to Martina, who gaped at me.
“Continue. I said it wasn’t enough.”
“Aaaah!”
Martina stormed into her chamber, yelling in a temper. Shouting alone wouldn’t soothe her; she swept everything off her dressing table. Had Clara seen it, she might have thought Martina the perfect match for a tyrant.
“Are you insane?”
Martina muttered to herself sharply.
“How dare she… this Martina Alba!”
Clara had always hesitated and avoided meeting Martina’s eyes. Martina thought she had already established dominance, so why? Even when they caught Clara gossiping about her, Clara had said nothing.
“How dare she insult me with her mere greeting?”
These days, with rumors about the Prince of Nerha and the like, Bastian had been given a certain duty and clearly had no patience. What had Clara done to Martina today? The memory still made her furious. Martina had ordered the maid to slap the girl multiple times until Clara said it was enough. Slapping was something Martina felt confident in, but being forced to do it was not pleasant. After two more slaps, Clara finally let her go. Clara had the meekest face and said,
‘I felt offended, but now I feel better. Next time, please be a little more polite when you meet me, Lady Martina of Alba.’
After parting from Clara, Martina went to the garden only to find Bastian gone — they’d missed each other. She had tried to engineer a chance meeting, but Clara had wasted all the time. A princess born to a maid who used to clean the royal palace — how dare she! Martina was practically foaming at the mouth.
“I’ll put her in her place.”
It was the perfect opportunity: to teach a presumptuous, fatherless princess a lesson. Martina decided to watch and wait for that day.
