Chapter Text
“Pardon me,” Riri mumbled under her breath as she squeezed passed.
The kitchen was always bustling at this time of day to prepare for the family to break their fast, but with the incoming season their workloads have increased rather dramatically. There was always silver to shine or, bins to empty, and flowers to procure. However, this season the estate needed to be immaculate inside as well as outside. No need or fancy could be left unattended.
Riri always tried to stay out of the way. She was more than aware of how displeased the morning staff would be to see her in their space. Tracking mud and despair everywhere she went, as they would claim.
It was a joke, she thinks. Though she’s become aware over the years of how most jokes hold a sliver of truth. It was far more charming when she was simply a young child following her Step-Father everywhere. Less so, to be a woman of marrying age to hold such an ‘indecent profession’.
It wasn’t entirely foreign for a woman to be a groundskeeper, but the late Duke was conservative in all respects. Groundskeepers not only tended to the physical needs of the property, but the spiritual as well. In the maintenance of their property, the wealthy could pay respects to the Gods of their choice through adherence to certain aesthetic and cardinal values. The late Duke believed that there was no need for women’s involvement in such matters, but the Master Gardner was a family friend. He took care of Riri’s family in the darkest of times and let her continue her apprenticeship.
It did not matter if his decision was mercy for a grieving child searching for any resemblance of stability or as a favor for his late friend. All Riri knew was that she was not to take further advantage of his sympathies. She would perform her nightly duties and that is all. She needs nothing more from this life than to live quietly.
Heavy boots dragged against the marbled floor as she shuffled to the servant quarters. She picked at the stale bread she had snagged from the kitchen, the pieces drying her mouth further. She hadn’t much time before exhaustion would claim her, so she didn’t bother looking for a proper meal. She passed a few of the kitchen maids heading in the opposite direction. She couldn’t help that her ear had lingered behind.
“—couldn’t believe it myself, if I’m honest, but the carriages pulled up this morning, ” the voice shared, excitement dripping from the young maid, “They say she’s a Princess.”
The older maid scoffed, “You’re imagining things, Lottie. Surely, more people would know if that was the case.”
“No, no I’m not, “ Lottie insisted, “They’ve been preparing the rooms in the West Wing—you know how stingy Her Grace can be. She’d never let just anyone stay in those rooms.”
“Well,” The older maid sniffed, “If she’s a Princess, you think she has brothers?”
The pair burst into giggles, their conversation becoming muffled as they left the hall.
Riri shook her head, paying no mind to the gossip.
Princess or not, it had nothing to do with her.
-
Riri grasped her cloak tightly, shivering in the night air. The receding winter was unwilling to make her work any easier.
Apparently, Her Grace believed the early morning frost she spotted was a poor omen of sorts. As such, the Master Gardener had tasked some of the laborers with replacing the wards placed in winter.
As such, it fell to the night shift.
On the outskirts of the garden, behind the topiaries, and past the fountain, Riri found the old shed. She’d needed a different spade since it seems as if the ones they typically used have been…eaten. The younger guards had a bit too much fun with the local wild-life, unaware that the dragon-sprites would be waking from hibernation.
Pulling out her ring of heavy keys, she squinted in the dim light trying to find the right one.
That’s when she heard it.
Riri’s breath caught. She stilled, listening closely.
Ever-so-soft footsteps approached.
Riri hooked the keys back onto her breeches, muffling the metal clanks with her glove. Then her hands slipped into her pockets, grasping the old, wood handle of her pen-knife. She hadn’t turned around, still listening as the footsteps got closer. There was no way it was one of the guards, they were notorious for their strength in arms, not in stealth. Any other night-worker would’ve announced themselves.
Steeling herself, Riri whirled around, brandishing the pen-knife.
Soon after she dropped it, stricken at the sight.
A cloaked woman, in deep purples embroidered with silver and gold.
Riri bowed without thinking. Eyes fixed on the ground, hoping her error would be ignored all things considered.
The cloaked woman observed for a moment, before raising a hand, “There isn’t any need for that now,” she said.
Her voice was soft, measured, with a faint, unknown accent that was decidedly pleasant to the ear.
Riri swallowed thickly, “I dare not insult you further.” she said.
“It is a greater insult that you will not even look at me,” The cloaked woman replied, her footsteps approaching once more, “I’m an attendant of the visiting Wakandan ambassadors. I’m only passing through, there’s no need for formalities.”
“Forgive me, but I don’t believe you. “
Riri doesn’t know what urged her mouth to keep speaking. Perhaps she wasn’t fond of living after-all.
“Oh?”
Riri shivered, a bit horrified that she couldn’t blame the night air this time.
“Won’t you look at me?”
It was a question, though from their mouth it was unmistakably an order.
And for better or for worse, Riri did look.
Before her was a woman with a slender face and dark thoughtful eyes, who’s attentions were wholly and entirely on Riri.
“Why don't you believe me?” the woman inquired with a shy smile.
Shame had always been her close companion. Even more-so with the woman standing before her seeing Riri in this state. Covered in mud, wearing breeches, and involved in an indecent profession.
“Well…” Riri averted her gaze, looking at the palm-sized leaves behind the woman instead, “Either Wakanda is far more wealthy then they’ve disclosed--because no English attendant could ever afford such garments--or you are not who you claim to be.”
It was never good to get involved in the private affairs of the wealthy, but she couldn’t refuse to answer.
However, instead of being insulted the woman laughed, delighted.
It was a brightness that broke the silence and unease easily, “Are they that expensive?” she pinched the heavy fabric of the cloak, eyebrows knitting, “I’ve seen quite a few people dressed similarly."
“The style is common, but the materials aren’t,” Riri said, “Only Royalty would be permitted to wear so much gold.” Even gold-imitations were considered to be insulting. Many merchants were jailed over the years because of their preference for the style.
“Interesting…” The woman mulled over this new-found information, “That is good to know for next time.”
“Next time? Surely you don’t plan to keep-”
“This country is quite different from my home," The woman interrupted, hands smoothing the folds of her cloak, “In speech, in clothes, food,” her nose scrunched at that, “And the expectations of an unmarried lady. It is tiresome having a chaperone with me at all times. I only wanted some fresh air by myself.”
“That does sound suffocating,” Riri agreed, “But if anyone else found you, it’d be cause for scandal.”
Unperturbed, the woman inclined her head, “But you found me,” she notes.
It was then that she recognized the look in the woman’s eye for what it was--mischief.
Riri fought back a grin, raising an eyebrow, “And who exactly did I find?”
The woman approached Riri slowly, leaning down to pick up the fallen pen-knife before extending it towards her with a smile.