42 Apple Juice

"Someone is going to have to shovel all of that."

Outside, it was a plain of glittering white, the sun reflecting brightly across the snowed landscape. Unmarred by the passage of pedestrians or plebians. The quiet of winter was serene and calming, if not nerve-wracking and a tad eerie.

"It will likely melt by the morrow. Only a few paths need be shoveled, and what isn't will be trodden underfoot."

Lecil raised an eyebrow.

"Did your speech pattern change? Why are you speaking so eloquently, as if you are an old maid? Oh, wait..."

Irene winced. She was trying to sound more professional, like a Lady. But realizing who her company was... The example for her to look up to was somewhat skewed.

"I am only a handful of years older. Only halfway to my thirties."

"You're twenty-five?"

"Yes. Why?"

"You don't look that old..."

"But your comment..."

"I was only teasing you. You look amazing.

Irene shifted.

"Oh. Well. Thank you, Princess."

She's gotten used to the moniker, giving up trying to change it somehow. Better "Princess" than "that bitch over there." Lecil had overheard that gem from her sister. It wasn't recent. But it still happened.

"Where is Rain? Why haven't I seen him around."

"He attends training still. Unless you've decided on going out again."

"Nah. Not today. I heard there is a festival soon."

"To celebrate the end of Winter. There will be games and food in town."

"Let's do that then. Today, I want to hide away under the covers. Talking with Anne this morning has already drained me."

"Was the Second Princess amiable this time around?"

"Very. When I mentioned I wanted to help her get with Duke Raiden, she was all over me."

Irene stopped wiping the dresser mirror to give her full attention.

"You want to set her up? With the Duke."

Lecil rolled her eyes.

"I know, right? Fortunately, I know his type. Me."

Irene squinted. Lecil clarified.

"Duke Klein Raiden gets around, but he has never fallen in love. The reason being he is often at war and doesn't have time. The girls he frequents are those that throw themselves at him. They give him fun but no substance. What he wants in a life partner is someone with flair; someone who talks back and speaks their mind. Someone like me."

"Are you sure you aren't acting conceited, Princess?"

Lecil whirled, thrusting a finger to the air. A professor.

"On the contrary, my dear Irene. I know all too well. A princess would be a good fit. Financially. Politically. It would be perfect. Me. That is. He wants to chase someone he can't have since he has had everyone. I also don't like him."

"Men do often chase women who aren't interested in them..."

Lecil snapped her fingers.

"Exactly! A princess who fawns over him would be second best—the Second Princess. Anne doesn't understand. She is good at everything I am not, but that makes her blind to men's true feelings."

Irene deadpanned.

"And you know the secrets to all men's true feelings... Princess."

The last word was an afterthought. Like she forgot who she was talking to.

"Yes."

Unabashed, she called on knowledge from countless romance games.

Men fell into types. Categories. They were easy to read, as well. How to handle them was her specialty.

In the real world, Celia was quite pretty. She got her fair share of confessions. By note. Via a friend. Even a heartfelt spoken confession.

Three.

It was only three times. But they still happened!

One was in elementary school, and the other turned out to be false gossip, but the third was real!

She turned him down.

Real men just didn't measure up. And the ones that did, she always found a fatal flaw. It may have been a product of too high expectations. The reason being that all those expectations could be met soundly within games. They always followed what she thought they were going to do. No muttered words. No ghosting. No chance of another girl coming into the equation unless it was scripted.

Mistakes made could be rectified by clicking the "load previous save" button.

Lecil drooped.

If anyone heard her thoughts, she would die of embarrassment.

She was addicted to games for the thrill without danger. Making up for her discrepancies in real relationships...

"Gah! Now I feel terrible. I want some chocolate."

"Chocolate is expensive."

"I am a princess! I can have some chocolate if I want to."

"You will gain weight, princess."

"Then I will be this world's first fat princess. Please fetch me some chocolates."

The brief silence made Lecil wonder if Irene would actually refuse. She was almost hoping, but then Irene acknowledged the request.

"I'll make a run to the pantry. Do you need anything else?"

"Some orange juice?"

Irene's glare could match her own.

"...Apple juice?"

"Apple juice it is. Anything else?"

"No. Thank you."

"It is my duty to serve."

Watching Irene go left an odd taste in her mouth. It felt like Irene's personality kept shifting. She was becoming more relaxed. Or maybe less reserved. Like a friend.

Lecil smiled at the thought.

"This isn't the bathroom."

Her smile vanished

"No. It is my bedroom. Please don't start pissing all over the floor."

Laughter. Boisterous and full-bellied.

"Were you waiting for my maid to leave so you could sneak in? Not very gentlemanly."

The laughter stopped—a curious expression.

"So you knew I was there?"

"Of course."

"You are interesting. For a princess. I knew it when I saw your hiding place during Trisha's rampage."

"And you are a Duke lacking in manners. Barging into my room and speaking of a Duchess without her title."

Raiden glided over to a chair, sitting down and getting comfortable.

"It is alright. We are rivals of a kind. We are like friends. Friends can call each other by their first names."

"That isn't how aristocracy works."

"I think it is."

Lecil realized she wouldn't get anywhere with this line of conversation. So she switched the direction discreetly.

"What happened with your friend. Did she get her antidote?"

Raiden crossed his fingers over his stomach.

"That she did, though she didn't wait. She stormed the jail cells during the blizzard and took the antidote for herself rather than wait. They called me to stop the intruder by I couldn't touch her since she is pregnant. I smoothed things over. No one died. No bid deal. Right?"

"I would think it is."

"Eh. You can't stop Trisha once she's put her mind to something. She has that kind of fiery temper. Kind of like you."

"Please... Don't."

"You think highly of yourself and have your own sort of flair. It is attractive."

Groaning internally, the conversation was at its destination. She just didn't like the stench.

"And did I overhear you are going to set me up with your sister? That is a tempting proposition, but I will have to pass. She seems fake."

Lecil chortled.

"Unfortunately, her infatuation is real. I can get her to act more normally. Make you the perfect pair."

"Do you really believe that? Or is this your way of rejecting me before I even ask?"

"Both."

"Why?"

"You are not my type."

"Oh?"

Raiden stood. Striding over, he came close to Lecil, invading her personal space but not touching. Lecil backed up a step. Raiden leaned forward, adopting a charming smile.

"Am I really not your type?"

"Hm..."

GODS YES!

Was he serious? Of course he was her type! He was every women's dream. Everything from his defined jawline to his knowing smirk. Powerful shoulders and rusty red-brown hair. His rugged looks screamed badboy. The toned muscle hiding under his shirt made her want to extend a hand to feel. He was beyond sexy.

Was her nose bleeding? No? Good.

Giving these goods to Anne was a sacrifice that won a staunch sister/ally and the Duke's power. Why accept the Duke's offer when she could have so much more?

So with a sniff and a straight face. She told him outright.

"No. You are not my type."

Raiden's smug face fell.

"Oh. I see. Well then, there's no help for it. I suppose we could go on a date. What do you say?"

"No."

"How about during the festival? I'll win you lots of prizes."

"Not interested."

Raiden tapped his foot.

"I am a Duke, you know. There aren't many legitimate options for a princess, are there? What will going on a date hurt?"

My sanity? My sister? Most importantly, my future.

"I have told you my answer many times now. You should open your ears."

"Is there no compromise to be had? Few women manage to pique my interest as you do. You were correct in assuming you are my type. I don't fancy a long chase, however."

Poor guy really wasn't used to being rejected. The way he was trying to prod her into acquiescing was derogatory and insulting. Not helping his case in the least.

"How about you take my sister on that date? I am sure she would love it."

"The Second Princess isn't my type."

"Like I was trying to say. She is your type. You just don't know it yet."

"I think you are trying to fight fire with fire."

That was the first smart statement he spoke all afternoon.

"Tell you what. I will compromise. Take my sister out. Win her gifts. Buy her food. And I will tag along. Anything she doesn't accept, I will happily take."

"I feel like I am getting the short end of the stick here..."

"You are. But it is either that, or I tell my brothers you snuck into my bedroom when I was alone."

Raiden backed up a step. Even for a Duke, that was a lethal allegation. Worse because it was true.

"Alright. Alright. You win. I'll take Anne out once. I'll leave you to tell her. I have to... um... there was this thing that... Oh! I think I can hear Ash calling my name. Gotta run."

Finding an unlikely excuse, Raiden fled.

A minute later, Irene returned with chocolate and juice. She found Lecil lying flat on her new, more mundane but significantly fluffier bed; arms splayed out wide.

"Did something happen?"

Lecil let out a long, guttural groan.