A harsh voice, laden with experience and years of servitude, echoed through the hall like muffled thunder inside a cathedral. The old maid, dressed in formal clothes as sober as the silence that followed, stepped forward.
-The lady has asked me to convey an important message," she said, with that perfect diction that comes only from decades of practice. The process of verifying and executing the contents of the will take two weeks at the most. During this time, everyone must remain at the manor. Those who decide to leave before this time is up... will automatically lose all rights to any part of the inheritance.
An almost imperceptible murmur drifted through the huddled bodies in the huge room, like an icy wind blowing through a forgotten crevice. Some people gulped. Others gritted their teeth. A couple, perhaps, stifled a bitter laugh. But no one said a single word aloud.
-Does anyone wish to leave now? -asked the old woman, pausing for a moment longer than necessary in the silence that followed. Her gaze wandered slowly around the room, assessing everyone's faces as if they were pieces on a chessboard.
No one responded. Some crossed their arms, others simply looked away. The message was clear, and though the mood had changed, no one seemed foolish or impetuous enough to protest openly. It was too early, too risky. Too revealing.
The large windows of the hall were slowly tinged with the light of a sun that was beginning to slant across the sky, gilding the stained glass with an artificial warmth that didn't really touch anyone. The initial murmur died away like the foam of a forgotten wave.
It was at that moment, while everything seemed to be suspended by a layer of uncertainty, that the boy's eyes returned to the figure.
The one standing next to the old woman.
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[Riku's point of view]
At first, upon seeing her enter, his mind had quickly and without much analysis categorised her as a childish figure. Perhaps it was the way she held her hands clasped behind her back, swaying her body slightly as she walked curiously around the large room. Or maybe it was the way her head was moving from side to side, as if everything was new, as if she were a younger visitor, unaware of what it meant to be there.
But now, looking at her again, I understood that it wasn't like that. There was nothing childish about her.
Her height was very similar to his own. Her long hair, of a colour difficult to define - a peculiar mixture of pale gold and shimmering silver - fell neatly down her back, swept back in a style reminiscent of princesses in ancient fairy tales. Her long, white dress fitted perfectly to her figure, which was delicate, yes, but well-proportioned. There was something in her posture... in the serenity of her expression... in the way she looked at him, that made him think that he must not, under any circumstances, mistake her for a child again.
Her navy blue eyes glittered, reflecting the dim light from the windows. They looked neither inquisitively, nor disdainfully, nor proudly... but something in them seemed to be measuring, registering, calculating.
A princess, he thought. But not the kind that waits in towers or throws flowers in the wind. One who watches from her throne, not saying a word, waiting for everyone to play their part.
It was then that she understood her mistake. It was not her appearance, nor her figure that was childish. It was the way she behaved when she entered. A momentary disguise of sweetness. A game. A gesture. But it was no longer.
The young woman wouldn't take her eyes off him. And Riku didn't know whether to be uncomfortable or flattered. He could only hold her gaze, if only for a few seconds, before averting his eyes.
Just then, the memory of that red-haired maid came back to his mind. She was still in the same position, with the mobile phone in front of her face, reflecting her image as if it were a mirror. She seemed so indifferent to her surroundings, so self-absorbed, that her presence was barely noticeable.
'She's definitely not acting like a servant...', he thought.
And then he regretted once again that he had not brought his own. He didn't think it would be necessary, nor that it would be allowed. Now he felt as if he was the only one without a piece on the board. As if, somehow, everyone else had come better prepared than he had.
A wan smile tugged at his lips. What nonsense.
A slight throat clearing brought his attention back to the centre of the room.
The old maid had turned, and with her, all eyes returned to the figure at her side.