The Opposite of Indifference - Chapter 5

Millicent perched on the table, eating black bread and overly ripe, mushy strawberries. Beside her, the old maid Tracy was making custard pudding with milk and eggs.

“Is this for us?”

Knowing full well the answer, Millicent still asked, holding onto a sliver of hope.

“It’s for Her Majesty the Queen.”

Tracy replied absentmindedly as she strained the mixture.

“Their Majesties always have pudding or biscuits soaked in milk for dessert.”

“Then why are you making only one?”

Even though she said it was for both of them, there was only one pudding being prepared and set to chill.

“His Majesty doesn’t eat pudding.”

“Why not?”

Tracy scoffed. “Oh, right. You haven’t seen His Majesty, have you? He’s not the type to eat something like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll understand when you see him.”

Tracy laughed at the way Millicent tilted her head in confusion.

“He’s an incredibly imposing and fearsome man. Not someone who would sit there daintily scooping up pudding with a tiny teaspoon.”

Millicent felt as if she was recalling something she had once dismissed as unimportant.

But before she could think further, Tracy shoved the pudding tray into her hands.

“You’ve finished eating, haven’t you? It’s my turn for dinner now.”

Tracy smacked her lips.

“Take this to Her Majesty.”

As Millicent brushed the crumbs from her skirt, a clever idea struck her.

“Then what if we pretend to serve pudding to His Majesty as well, make two, and eat one ourselves?”

“…You’re so scrawny, yet you seem to live for food.”

Tracy clicked her tongue in disbelief.

“I’m already exhausted just making pudding for the queen. Now get going.”

Millicent had no choice but to give up.

At any rate, the timing was perfect. She had agreed to meet Charlotte Brennan after dinner.

Carrying the pudding tray, Millicent practically hopped along. It took a great deal of restraint not to gobble up the queen’s dessert.

The queen’s drawing room was bustling.

Five ladies-in-waiting were chatting while holding silk fabrics in a variety of colors. Queen Jadalin reclined in a tall-backed chair, silently observing them.

“There will be a masquerade play at the banquet.”

Jadalin spoke as Millicent approached with the pudding.

“My ladies-in-waiting will also participate, wearing masks and dancing. They’ve been fighting over the best roles for more than two weeks.”

“The best roles?”

“The play mimics gods from ancient mythology, and each role has a different level of importance.”

“Which role is the best?”

“The goddess of beauty. The costume is the most stunning, and she has the most solo singing parts.”

Millicent listened in on the ladies-in-waiting. While their words were polite, their conversation was nothing short of an argument.

“…Lady Adriana is too tall to play the goddess of beauty.”

Charlotte’s voice was the loudest among them.

“And pink is the perfect color for the goddess of beauty. The costume wouldn’t even fit you anyway.”

Charlotte snatched the pink silk from the tall lady-in-waiting named Adriana.

“You should play the goddess of hunting and the moon instead.”

“Aren’t you too short to play the goddess of beauty?”

Adriana snapped back, outraged, while Charlotte fumed. Meanwhile, Jadalin whispered to Millicent.

“Charlotte Brennan must have approached you, correct?”

“How did you know?”

Millicent was startled.

“That pathetic girl pounces on the word ‘fate’ like a dog catching the scent of a bone. I casually mentioned you, and her eyes lit up.”

Some people become excessively obsessed with such entertainment. Millicent nodded in understanding.

“So, how do you plan to handle her?”

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

Millicent cut off Jadalin’s curiosity at once. No matter how generous the queen was as a client, there were boundaries she wouldn’t cross.

Jadalin studied her in silence with her light brown eyes. Then, as if it were nothing, she handed the tray back.

“I don’t particularly like pudding. Would you like to have it instead?”

For Millicent, this was an unexpected stroke of luck. Without hesitation, she stabbed her spoon into the smooth pudding. A rich, creamy flavor filled her mouth.

“…I’ll soon find out whether or not you’ll disappoint me.”

Jadalin’s cold gaze swept over Millicent’s cheeks as she busily chewed.

“And I am not accustomed to disappointment. You’d best be careful.”

Even though Millicent had seen the pudding being made and had carried it here herself, for a moment, a chilling fear struck her—what if it was poisoned?

It was a natural fear instilled by a woman who had nearly become an emperor. Jadalin was formidable.

“You won’t be disappointed.”

Momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected intensity, Millicent replied calmly. Not wanting to waste a drop of the dessert, she licked the spoon clean.

“I wonder where Cardinal Mullery found such an unusual child.”

Jadalin smiled. It seemed Millicent’s carefree response had once again earned her favor.

But the queen’s laughter was soon drowned out by the rising voices of the ladies-in-waiting.

“Enough!”

Annoyed, Jadalin stood up to intervene.

“Lady Adriana Beasley will take the role of the goddess of beauty.”

“No, Your Majesty!”

Charlotte leapt in protest, but Jadalin raised her left hand, signaling for her to be silent.

“As expected, Her Majesty is ever so gracious.”

Adriana, who had been quarreling with Charlotte moments before, now curtsied triumphantly.

Just as Charlotte had said, Adriana was indeed very tall. Her legs stretched out endlessly, and her tightly corseted waist sat significantly higher than most women’s.

“Lady Charlotte will play the role of the goddess of the hearth.”

“That’s such a minor role!”

Charlotte pouted like a spoiled child at Jadalin’s next cold pronouncement.

“It barely has any significance, the dance is too simple, and there aren’t even any good songs!”

Charlotte protested shrilly.

“Are you seriously telling me to sit by the hearth and sew for the entire play?”

“Oh my, Lady Charlotte, what a fitting role for you.”

A woman sitting across from Charlotte interjected. She was pale and plump, her body soft and rounded like a marshmallow.

“If you keep practicing being calm, perhaps you’ll finally stop leaving Her Majesty’s dog stranded in the streets.”

A ripple of laughter spread among the ladies-in-waiting. Though Charlotte glared daggers, the plump woman didn’t even blink.

“Lady Jane Grant, you truly understand my intentions.”

Jadalin smirked at Charlotte as if to say she had brought this upon herself.

“The role of the wise goddess suits you well.”

The plump Jane curtsied gracefully, then held a deep scarlet silk gown against herself—the color befitting the goddess of wisdom.

“Lady Elizabeth will take the role of the earth goddess…”

Next, a woman with dusky brown skin and large, frog-like protruding eyes knelt respectfully. A simple cross hung heavily from her neck.

“And Lady Ophelia will play the goddess of marriage.”

Another lady curtsied, her strong, square jaw giving her a sharp but refined look.

“Now that’s settled. Stop your bickering.”

Having neatly arranged the matter, Jadalin returned to her seat.

“Go on, dance and sing.”

As the ladies-in-waiting quieted, the queen sat with the wolfhound puppy on her lap, stroking it absentmindedly.

“Did the hunter… no, that Frankie fellow bring it back safely?”

Millicent gestured toward the puppy as she asked.

Someone must have washed it, as there was no longer any trace of the dirt it had been covered in.

She wanted to pet it again. She tried luring it with her empty spoon, but the little ball of fur was completely content in its master’s hands and didn’t spare her a glance.

“Frankie?” Jadalin repeated.

“The tall man without a mustache.”

He had said he wasn’t a hunter. He had insisted she would find out later, acting as if it were some tedious riddle. And Millicent wasn’t particularly skilled at describing people.

She wasn’t even sure if Frankie was his real name.

“He said he’d take the dog to Your Majesty after Lady Charlotte left it behind.”

“It was His Majesty’s page who brought it. So that man’s name must be Frankie.”

Jadalin dismissed it as unimportant.

So, he wasn’t a hunter but the king’s page? Millicent scoffed at the thought that he had made such a fuss over such an unimpressive identity.

The musicians began to play. The queen’s ladies-in-waiting danced and sang, each playing their assigned role.

They hardly seemed to need practice. They had memorized not just their parts but the entire play. It was clear they had all received exceptional education. Their movements exuded grace and refinement.

As Millicent watched absentmindedly, she felt something strange.

Was it anger? Or envy?

She was never good at defining her own emotions, so she wasn’t sure.

Then, it suddenly struck her—all of her targets were gathered in one place. If she locked the doors and set the room ablaze, it would all be over in an instant.

But instead, Millicent tightened the ribbon beneath her chin, suppressing the heat that surged within her.

One at a time.

Hunting was more fun when done patiently. It also meant she was less likely to be caught and executed before she could even escape the palace.

With eyes gleaming like a predator hidden in the underbrush, she studied her first target—Charlotte Brennan.

Unaware of anything, Charlotte spent the entire practice sulking, her lips pursed.

At last, when the rehearsal ended, Queen Jadalin retired to her chambers. After brushing the queen’s golden-red hair and helping her change into her nightgown, the ladies-in-waiting also began to leave one by one.

“Come with me.”

Finally, Charlotte grabbed Millicent’s arm and pulled her along.