The Maid of the Cursed Princess

“…”

Why had she kicked Dorothy out?

Sibylla asked herself – why had she treated Dorothy so harshly?

This was the palace, moreover right before the Heroes’ Festival. It wasn’t unusual for her brother residing in the palace to encounter a maid.

And if an unfamiliar face in a maid’s uniform was wandering the palace grounds, it would be in his nature to show some interest. For the lowborn Dorothy to earnestly respond to the Prince’s questions was only natural.

Her kind-hearted brother would have treated Dorothy with the same courtesy he showed everyone. Especially if he knew she was the maid attending to his cursed sister, he would have been even kinder.

Sibylla knew it was highly likely Dorothy had received such a favorable impression of the Prince due to her brother’s demeanor.

And yet.

“…It hurts.”

Clutching her chest with one hand, Sibylla winced in pain.

As if ensnared by thorny vines, her aching heart cried out in agony.

She understood it rationally, yet why did her heart hurt so?

“Why…”

Prince Louis was a good man, unreservedly kind and gracious to all without prejudice.

Had he known Dorothy was Sibylla’s maid, he would have simply offered some words of encouragement before entrusting his sister to her care, not going any further.

Dorothy wasn’t one to take much interest in others – whether the witch or the chamberlain, whenever conversing with someone other than Sibylla, she always maintained an indifferent expression and casual tone.

Even if the Prince was renowned for his charm and popularity among women due to his looks and character, such positive traits likely didn’t resonate with Dorothy. If they had, her demeanor would have been different when describing him to Sibylla, or so she thought.

“Knowing that, why am I…”

Yet the aching in her chest refused to subside. Just what was this feeling?

Anger? Impossible. What reason could she have to be angry over her brother and Dorothy’s meeting?

Sorrow? No, not that either. Dejection, fear, panic, melancholy.

“No, no, no.”

Vehemently shaking her head in denial of those baseless, unfamiliar emotions resurfacing in droves, as if muttering ‘It can’t be, it can’t be’ to herself.

But Sibylla was undoubtedly feeling it – a searing, burning ache in her chest. What was the root of this pain, why must she endure such torment?

“…Could it be…?”

Amidst the turbulent emotional turmoil thrashing about, a single word flashed across Sibylla’s mind as she sought the answer.

“…Jealousy…?”

And simultaneously, she vehemently rejected it like never before.

“Just who am I supposed to be jealous of…?”

It wasn’t that she couldn’t comprehend feeling jealous of someone.

“Why would I… be jealous of my own brother…?”

She simply didn’t want to accept that the object of her jealousy was her own kind brother.

Just because her maid had conversed with him a little, just because her maid had spoken favorably of her brother.

Was she truly jealous of her benevolent brother over something so trivial?

What was she, what was a mere maid to her?

Sibylla didn’t wish to acknowledge the feelings she harbored toward Dorothy, nor the fact that she had become jealous of her own brother because of them.

For to acknowledge those feelings and that jealousy would be:

“Too… unsightly… Sibylla Thérèse…”

Tantamount to admitting the ugliness flowing through her veins wasn’t blood, but impure thoughts.

* * *

“…”

Outside Sibylla’s chamber, Dorothy stood idly waiting.

Waiting for Sibylla to call her by the name until the sun had set.

“Just what is that woman doing out here? Everyone else is working but her…”

“Don’t you know? She’s the Princess’s maid. Don’t bother picking a fight, you might catch the curse.”

“Eh, you should’ve said so sooner… she’s staring right at us…!!”

Regardless of the comments from passersby, Dorothy remained stationed before the door, for it was a maid’s duty to attend her master and follow her orders.

“Why are you lingering outside, Miss Gale?”

“…Chamberlain.”

The chamberlain, who had been passing by, noticed Dorothy loitering outside and approached, finding it strange.

“That is…”

To the chamberlain, Dorothy explained meeting the Second Prince outside, conversing with him, returning to inform Sibylla, only for Sibylla to react with displeasure and dismiss her.

“I don’t understand why the Princess expelled me. Was it because I spoke too freely of her own brother, a fellow royal, displeasing her?”

“Hmm… No, I do not think so.”

After muttering contemplatively at Dorothy’s explanation, the chamberlain shook his head, as if having found the answer.

“It is… likely jealousy.”

“Jealousy… you say?”

To Dorothy, the notion of jealousy seemed quite out of the blue.

“That look of incomprehension, I see.”

“Honestly… yes.”

Dorothy couldn’t understand. Why suddenly mention jealousy?

“Does the Princess have any reason to be jealous of me? I am but a mere maid…”

Dorothy thought Sibylla had no reason to be jealous of her. At most, Sibylla was cursed while Dorothy’s body remained unaffected – was there anything else Sibylla didn’t surpass her in?

Status, position – there was an unbridgeable gap between Princess Sibylla and the lowborn commoner Dorothy.

“Was the Second Prince that intimate and important to the Princess?”

Thus, Dorothy couldn’t understand – was the mere act of conversing with the Prince grounds for the Princess to be jealous of someone as lowly as a maid who did not excel her in any way?

“No, the Princess is not jealous of Miss Gale.”

Tutting at Dorothy, the chamberlain corrected her misunderstanding.

“The one the Princess is jealous of is the Second Prince, Louis Ferdinand d’Orléans – not Miss Gale.”

“…The Prince, you say?”

Even then, Dorothy found it equally incomprehensible. Of course, compared to Dorothy herself, it was understandable for Sibylla to be jealous of the Prince who wasn’t only royalty, but also uncursed and beloved by Orléans’s citizens. However.

“It seems you still don’t understand, Miss Gale.”

“…Embarrassingly, no.”

Haa. Heaving a deep sigh, the chamberlain gazed at Dorothy’s blank expression, so unlike how she had chastised him before.

“Miss Gale, if you were ordered to serve the Prince instead of the Princess, would you comply?”

“No.”

To that, Dorothy could readily and confidently answer no, for her current master was Princess Sibylla.

“Then go inside and convey those very words to reassure the Princess. The Princess fears you may leave her to become the Prince’s maid instead.”

“…?”

“Go on.”

As if no longer willing to explain further to the still uncomprehending Dorothy, the chamberlain pushed her through the door.

“…I hadn’t been ordered to enter, yet now you disregard orders as well?”

Through the door, Dorothy saw Sibylla still seated on the bed, her back turned in a silent ‘I’m angry’ protest.

“I entered… of my own volition…”

The chamberlain had told her to reassure Sibylla, hadn’t he?

“…No.”

Instead of potentially hurtful words, Dorothy slowly approached Sibylla.

“…!!??”

And gently embraced her from behind.

“Y-You, what are you doing? Such impudence and audacity…!!”

“Princess.”

Dorothy’s voice reached Sibylla’s ear.

“I will always be your maid.”

“…!!”

And the words Sibylla wished to hear more than anything else slipped from Dorothy’s lips.

“I won’t go anywhere. I won’t leave your side.”

“B-But compared to someone like me… Brother Louis is far more charming…”

“Yes, he is undoubtedly a charming individual. He has excellent looks and character.”

The jealousy she had tried so hard to deny, her inferiority toward her own brother.

“But he is not my master.”

All of it melted away by the sweet devil’s whispers.

“Do you know who my master is, Princess?”

Her breath tickling her ear, that beautiful voice scrambling her thoughts.

“…Me… me… Sibylla Thérèse d’Orléans… I am your master…”

“Yes, you are my master, Princess.”

The ruthless devil unwittingly bewitched her prey.

“So have no worries, Princess. Until the day your curse is lifted, I, Dorothy Gale, won’t leave your side.”

“…”

“Then, good night.”

Having judged she had sufficiently conveyed her intentions to the Princess, Dorothy moved to leave after releasing the embrace with a bow.

“…Princess?”

“Stay.”

Until Sibylla’s hand clasped her arm.

“There is… no separate room for you here in this palace…”

Servant quarters were naturally prepared, of course.

Yet Sibylla lied to her in a trembling voice:

“So… remain in this room with me, until the Heroes’ Festival ends…”

“…”

A blatant lie that would have been immediately exposed had Dorothy known palace protocol, or felt any dissonance even if she didn’t.

“As you command.”

However, Dorothy readily accepted Sibylla’s request – or was it an order? She couldn’t tell.

“Good night…”

The last words from Dorothy as she lay together with Sibylla on the bed were such.

“…My master.”

Engraving themselves deep in the Princess’s mind.