The palace looked like someone had taken every fairy tale I'd ever heard and built it in white stone and gold leaf. I pressed my face closer to the carriage window, watching sunlight catch on stained glass, scattering colors across gardens so perfect they looked painted. My breath fogged the glass. I wiped it away with my sleeve before the Countess could notice and have opinions about it.
Edward sat across from me, staring at nothing. William was doing that thing where he pretended to sleep but was actually listening to everything. The silence in the carriage felt thick enough to cut. I'd spent the last three hours trying to make myself smaller, which was difficult in a space already too small for four people who didn't particularly like each other.
The wheels clattered over cobblestones. I counted the beats, an old habit from nervous situations. One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four. Grandmother said counting helped with anxiety. She was right about most things.
The carriage lurched to a stop. My stomach dropped with it.
Servants in livery appeared at the door like they'd been waiting their whole lives for this specific carriage, maybe they had been. The door swung open, and Edward stepped out first because of course he did. William followed, then me, my legs shaky after hours of sitting.
The courtyard was chaos dressed up as order. Servants everywhere, guards standing so still they looked like statues, nobles arriving in carriages nicer than ours. I felt everyone's eyes on me, or maybe that was just paranoia.
Father was already talking to a man with a neat beard and the kind of posture that screamed authority.
"Count Thomas von Artenberg, at the service of His Majesty."
The bearded man, steward, probably bowed like he'd practiced in a mirror.
"Welcome, Count von Artenberg. His Majesty has been expecting you. Please, follow me."
We followed him silently.
The entrance hall stole my breath. I'd never seen a ceiling that high outside of a cathedral. Frescoes covered every surface, battles, coronations, things that looked important and expensive. Chandeliers hung like frozen fireworks, and the marble floor reflected everything so clearly I could see my own uncertain face looking back up at me.
I felt like a smudge on clean glass.
Father's expression stayed neutral, but I caught something in his eyes when he looked up at the chandeliers. Eleanor walked beside the Countess Viola, chin up, like she'd been born for rooms like this. William's smirk said he was underwhelmed, but his eyes were everywhere, taking it in.
The corridors seemed to go on forever, each one more elaborate than the last. Tapestries I couldn't begin to price. Statues of people who'd probably done important things centuries ago. My footsteps echoed wrong too loud.
Two knights flanked a set of double doors at the end of the corridor. They didn't look at us, but I felt evaluated anyway. The steward nodded and the doors opened.
The audience chamber made the entrance hall look modest.
Gold trim, massive windows, blue silk canopy at the far end where—oh god. The King and Queen sat there like they'd been carved from marble themselves. King Aldric looked exactly like his portraits, just older. Silver hair, sharp eyes that probably saw through every lie you'd ever told. Queen Elara sat beside him, beautiful in that way queens are, where you can't tell if they're kind or just good at looking kind.
Then I saw the others, Crown Prince Gabriel stood to the King's right, tall and severe, with a soldier's bearing and a face that gave away nothing. He looked like he could order your execution and not lose sleep over it.
Princess Matilda stood to the left. Golden hair, blue eyes, the kind of beautiful that belonged in songs. She was watching us with an expression I couldn't read.
"Presenting Count Thomas von Artenberg and his family."
Father stepped forward, bowed. I'd seen him bow to people before, but never like this. This was the bow of someone who understood exactly how much power sat on that dais.
"Your Majesties, it is an honor to be in your presence."
The King smiled slightly. "Count von Artenberg, you honor us with your presence. Please, introduce your family."
Father went down the line. "My wife, the Countess Viola von Artenberg." The Countess curtsied, perfect form, of course.
"My sons, Edward and William." They bowed in tandem, Edward serious, William with just enough irreverence to skirt the edge of appropriate.
"My daughter, Eleanor." Eleanor curtsied like she'd been trained for it since birth, which she had.
"My daughter, Isabella."
He called me his daughter, in front of the King, in front of everyone.
I stepped forward before my legs could decide to stop working. The curtsy I'd practiced a thousand times in my grandmother's cottage felt suddenly insufficient, but I did it anyway, dropping low, keeping my head down. When I straightened, I made the mistake of meeting Queen Elara's eyes.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Isabella." she said. It was the voice of someone who'd learned to mean exactly what she said and nothing more.
"I have heard much about your talents."
The Queen knew about me, about what I could do, my talents. My mouth suddenly went dry.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. I am honored to be here."
The King studied me for a long moment. I felt like a book being read, every page examined for flaws, then he turned to Princess Matilda.
"Matilda, I believe you have something to say to Miss von Artenberg."
The Princess stepped forward. Her smile reached her eyes, which seemed impossible for someone born into this much formality.
"Isabella, I have been informed of your exceptional skills in the medical arts. It is for this reason that I requested your presence here at the palace."
She requested me, specifically. This wasn't Father's connections or some political maneuvering. This was about me.
"I am in need of someone with your knowledge and expertise to assist in my care. I trust you will not disappoint."
It hit me all at once. She needed, medical help. The kind Grandmother had trained me to provide. This wasn't some mistake or charity.
My throat felt too tight, but I managed to speak.
"I will do my utmost to serve you, Your Highness."
Matilda's smile widened. Something like relief flickered across her face, gone so fast I might have imagined it.
"I am glad to hear it. Come, I will show you to my chambers."
She turned to her parents.
"If you will excuse us, Mother, Father."
The King waved a dismissive hand.
"Go on, Matilda. We will speak with the Count and his family further."
I followed Princess Matilda toward a side door, aware of my family's eyes on my back. Edward's indifference, William's amusement, Eleanor's expression I didn't have time to analyze. The Countess's assessment of how I'd probably already failed somehow.
I didn't look back.
The corridor was quieter.
Matilda walked beside me instead of ahead of me, which felt wrong somehow. Princesses didn't walk beside people like me.
"You must be nervous, Isabella." Her voice had changed, now that we were away from the audience chamber.
"Coming to the palace for the first time can be overwhelming, especially when you're thrust into such a significant role."
"It is overwhelming, Your Highness. I've never been in a place like this before."
She laughed, soft and genuine.
"Please, call me Matilda when we're in private. I'm not fond of all the formalities when it's just the two of us." She glanced at me, smile still in place.
"Don't worry, you'll get used to it. The palace may be grand, but it's also a place where people live their lives, just like anywhere else."
I wasn't convinced, but I appreciated the effort. I studied her as we walked, trying to understand who she was beneath the title. She seemed kind, approachable even, but there was steel underneath. You didn't survive royal life without it.
Her chambers were exactly what I'd expected, blue and gold, velvet drapes, furniture that probably cost more than my grandmother's entire cottage. A canopy bed big enough to sleep four people dominated the room, its silk sheets embroidered with flowers and vines so delicate they looked like they'd dissolve if you touched them. The air smelled like lavender. I recognized the scent immediately, good for calming nerves, reducing headaches, helping with sleep.
"This will be your workspace." Matilda gestured to a small adjoining room.
I stepped inside and forgot how to breathe.
Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of herbs I recognized and some I didn't. A desk sat beneath a window that overlooked the gardens. Medical texts were stacked in neat piles, their leather bindings worn from use. Someone had set this up with care, with knowledge of what a healer would need.
"You'll find everything you need there, herbs, tinctures, medical texts. If there's anything else you require, just let me know."
I turned back to her, throat tight with something that might have been gratitude or might have been fear. Possibly both.
"Thank you, Matilda. I will do my best to meet your expectations."
Her smile was warm, genuine.
"I have no doubt that you will, Isabella. Now, why don't you take some time to familiarize yourself with the materials here? We'll begin our work in earnest tomorrow."
She left, closing the door behind her. The silence that followed was different from the silence in the carriage. Less suffocating. More like possibility.
I stood in the middle of my new workspace, surrounded by herbs and books and tools of a trade Grandmother had taught me in secret, in the margins of a life that never quite wanted me. The reality was settling in,I wasn't just Father's illegitimate daughter anymore or the mistake the Countess wished would disappear.
I was Isabella von Artenberg, and Princess Matilda had requested me specifically.
My hands were still shaking, but I walked to the shelves and started reading labels, cataloging what I had to work with. Chamomile, feverfew, willow bark, yarrow. The familiar names settled something in my chest.
I wouldn't fail. I couldn't. This was the first time in my life anyone had chosen me for what I could do rather than tolerated me for what I was.
I picked up a jar of dried lavender, rolled it between my palms, and took a breath that didn't feel quite so constricted.
Tomorrow I'd start and I'd prove I deserved to be here.
Tonight, I'd just stand in this room and let myself believe that maybe, possibly, things could be different now.