"So much to do," Raine thought to herself as she sifted through piles upon piles of letters, each asking for the princess's hand in marriage. It was tough being an advisor to the princess. With the princess's mother dead, the king had appointed Raine to take over. Raine had met the princess weeks before her mother passed; what a grisly affair. The poor late Queen was killed by one of her maids—how tragic.

The princess's father, King Idris, was away fighting wars far from the castle. "At least he isn’t dead," she mused to herself, throwing some letters into the hearth behind her and keeping others she thought were worthy. She’d take it up with the king when he returned, but until then, she had a princess to teach.

The princess needed a marriage to strengthen the kingdom—being the only child with no mother to bear new heirs made it a necessity.

Raine had three potential matches in front of her: all second-born men with kingdoms rich in either gold, manpower, or land. They would be at the feast tonight, which Raine had to prepare the princess for. "Gods, does she even know how to please a man?" Raine only hoped all their lessons proved fruitful.

A gentle rap on the door brought a small smile to Raine’s face. “Enter,” she called out.

Raine did not get up from her seat but watched the princess hesitate, unsure where to look. Raine’s face fell into a frown. “Hold on, what are you wearing?” Raine rose from her desk and circled the princess like a hawk stalking its prey, her hands lingering on the cleavage of her dress. “Who dressed you this morning?” She tugged at it. “Look how easily you could expose yourself. You look like a common whore, not a Princess. Whoever dressed you shall be punished. Now come, we cannot have you going to the feast looking like that.” Raine pulled up the princess's dress and marched out of her office toward the bedchambers, the small taps behind her indicating the princess was following.

Raine slammed open the door; the chambermaids cleaning froze as they saw her. Raine was rather plain in features, her face as common as grass, but her arms were strong from years as a soldier. She was no man’s dream, though she didn’t care; only a fool would rely on looks alone—they faded as quickly as roses. Besides, she preferred women. Her face was stoic as she addressed them. “Who dressed the princess this morning?” Silence. “Well?” An older chambermaid bowed. “I believe it was Ruby, my lady, but she had gone back to the servants’ quarters feeling unwell.” Raine just stared as she walked in. “Clean up later; I need to change the Princess.” The chambermaids scurried out as Raine took long strides inside, taking out her knife and turning to the princess, cutting off the dress including her undergarments.

“Right, let us start again, shall we? Since even your maids are incapable of picking out something appropriate. I shall give you an option: what color do you want to wear? And not red.”