The guests were arriving with an entourage that stretched from the gate until the entrance of the kingdom.
"Those are a lot of people." Mica muttered with her face pressed against the window.
Her breath fogged the glass and she wiped it with her fist while squinting down at the first carriage embroidered in gold and lilac as it drew to a halt on the front steps.
The carriage door opened and a soldier stood at the entrance with his arm outstretched patiently. A slender pale arm reached through and gently placed her hand in his own. Delicate and light using it as anchorage.
Mica didn't realize just how impatient she was until she heard the tap tap tap of her foot against the floor echoing all around the empty library she had hidden herself in to observe without obstruction.
The face was soft and oval, pale with long flowing jet black hair swept over her shoulders. She wore a gown that fit the curve of her body– something akin to what she realized the Queen tends to wear as well.
The carriage rolled past once the princess made her way into the castle and Mica waited for the next, noting how they were tall and slender, broad shouldered with stem-like necks. All of them had hair that flowed to a general length, and all wore nearly the same structure of clothing.
"Why do they all look the same?" Her forehead left a smudge of grease on the glass as she leaned back with a quizzical look.
And then the thought dawned with quiet understanding; He has a type.
The more princesses exited from the carriages, the deeper the roots of the thought sunk until she had no doubt that the King had a type. He evidently did not shy from it.
Did you think you're His type?
"No." She scoffed while leaping from the small ledge she had perched herself on and quietly made her way out of the stuffy library.
The hallways were full of servants moving back and forth but their was no panic in the air, just a calm assurance that they had done this before and would succeed doing it again.
Overwhelmed by their presence, she ducked into the next corner and walked down the hallway as her eyes fleeted back and forth searching for the nearest exit.
"Halt."
The servants before her immediately pressed against the walls, ducking their heads discretely and she began to wonder why when a figure appeared at the end of the hallway.
A princess.
Her mouth was wide and painted a deep shade of red that matched the fiery color of her hair curled about her head. She glided rather than walked, head straight, shoulders down and spine tall. Beside her was a man who resembled her– A twin?
Mica pressed against the wall and lowered her head but kept her eyes discretely lifted, curious as the figure passed by.
There was an air to her that felt warm. And when she passed by, Mica caught a whiff of her scent– cinnamon.
"Princess Reguel of the Eastern Moon."
Her gaze followed the princess until she turned a corner and disappeared. The servants slid out of the shadows like silent creatures and continued on their way, no one saying anything.
Would the King be interested in her?
She glanced over her shoulder at the empty hallway then continued on but the avid image remained seared behind her eyes.
"I'm not feeling well." A cough she hoped was believable echoed from her chest, a bit ragged and wet.
Lady Moon cast her a shrewd eye whilst handing a basket of clean new utensils to be placed outside to one of the servants.
When she said nothing, Mica tilted her head up slightly with a forlorn look, she hoped the pinks of her cheeks caused by the incessant slapping in the bathroom would pass off as a fever.
"I might've caught a head flu while taking out the laundry yesterday… it was pretty chilly outside."
"Mmh."
She chewed her inner cheeks and fought the urge to wring her hands. Rather than prolonging the list of probable symptoms, she cut to the chase with a slight inclination of her head. "I don't think I'll be able to serve the King's wine tonight."
"That's fine."
Mica blinked.
Well, that was fast.
But it was not surprising. Her mistress had always wondered why she caught the favor of the King and served Him wine. Now she had an opportunity, one that was given to her freely, to get rid of her if only for a while.
"Okay," Mica nodded and stalled, waiting for the dismissive nod. "... alright."
Turning away from her mistress, she made her way back to the bedroom with the plan already drafted in her mind.
It was not yet concrete but it had sparked a flame of hope within her. Something made all the more urgent by the supernatural events occurring within the castle; from the python to the lycanthrope and now blackout hallucinations.
As she passed by the large windows, her gaze lingered on the height of the walls, drifting along the length until it dipped to the bottom where a simple door stood, opening every 6 hours as guards rotated shifts.