“This hurts. What am I supposed to do about it?”

Layla shook her head.

“I had the same experience when I first learned to ride, but there wasn’t much I could do. You just have to wait until you get used to it.”

“Getting used to it, you say…”

“Your palms will grow calluses, and then new calluses will form over them.”

Malyn looked at the reddened skin where her fingers met her palms, then at Layla’s hands. Noticing Malyn’s gaze, Layla blinked before holding out her left hand. The inside of Layla’s left hand was covered in thick calluses. Without thinking, Malyn reached out and took Layla’s hand; there wasn’t a single soft spot on it.

“Is this what happens if you ride every day?”

“…Probably.”

Malyn held out her own hand and compared it to Layla’s. Layla’s hand was noticeably thicker, far beyond comparison. Malyn had thought her fingers looked delicate and beautiful, but the inside of her palm was like this. Suddenly, Malyn felt a small sense of injustice. If she’d known Layla’s hands were like this, maybe she wouldn’t have been so hard on the maids, even slapping them.

‘Well, she’s a princess who’s been through her own hardships, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.’

It was all in the past anyway. As Malyn pressed down on the calluses on Layla’s hand, she wondered how much riding it would take to develop calluses this thick. Even someone who had spent their entire life on horseback probably wouldn’t have palms this hardened. They were almost like a hunter’s hands.

By the time they returned to the castle, Malyn’s hands were in even worse shape, partly due to the cold wind she’d been exposed to all day. As soon as they went inside, she soaked her hands in warm water. Looking down at her hands submerged in the water, she let out a small laugh. The calluses that had formed on her joints caught her eye.

Her hands were different to Layla’s. While Layla’s hands were hardened all over from holding reins, the calluses on Malyn’s hands were mainly in worn areas. Her thumb and forefinger were calloused from sewing without a thimble, and the first knuckle of her middle finger was hardened from holding a ladle all day while serving stew at the inn.

Hands that work, whether male or female, bear similar marks. In that sense, Layla’s calloused hands were quite luxurious.

Anessa had opened all the windows to air out the room. As she watched Layla scurrying around the room, closing each window, Malyn called to her. Layla walked over slowly, a slightly annoyed look in her eyes. Malyn threw one of her ointment jars at Layla’s skirt. As expected, Layla didn’t catch it, but tried to pick it up from the floor.

“It’s good for chapped hands. Just use it.”

“This is…”

“It doesn’t have some sentimental backstory like a keepsake from my mother or anything, so just use it.”

She scolded Layla, who hesitated, holding the ointment jar but not opening it. Annoyed, Malyn held out her hand.

“Give it here.”

“No, I’ll do it myself.”

But Layla, startled as if Malyn’s hand was something repulsive, quickly took two steps back. Although Malyn was taken aback, she decided to hold her tongue and just watch. After a moment’s hesitation, Layla turned the cover of the ointment jar. With a slight creak, the wooden cover came loose. The ointment was a green balm with the scent of leaves, and Layla carefully scooped up a small amount with her fingertip and applied it to the back of her hand. A unique leafy scent filled the air. Watching Layla carefully spread the ointment on her hands, Malyn couldn’t help but murmur softly.

“It’s strange.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have they been feeding you well here at Veldam Castle?”

Layla’s face filled with puzzlement as she looked at Malyn, who continued to mutter.

“You’ve definitely grown taller, haven’t you?”

“…Me?”

“And it looks like you’ve put on a bit of weight too.”

At those words, Layla instinctively reached up to touch her face. Instead of laughing, Malyn tilted her head thoughtfully. It was certain. The princess had gained some weight. Her chin looked a little fuller. Not to the point of being unattractive, of course. And she’d grown taller, too. It was natural to put on weight as one grew taller, but…

‘I thought she was already fully grown?’

It was common knowledge that the age limit for human growth was around 18. Malyn couldn’t remember exactly, but she was sure that Layla was well over 18. She stared at Layla thoughtfully, while Layla looked away nervously. After a moment, Malyn finally spoke.

“You.”

“…I… it’s not what you think…”

“Were you starving at Dion Castle?”

“…”

A silence fell between them. Malyn thought back to the short time she had served as Layla’s maid – a month at most. Back then, Layla had eaten as little as a bird and had often pushed her food away, but now that she thought about it, the portions Layla had been given had been meagre to begin with. She had just assumed it was because Layla ate little by nature, so they only gave her small portions. But…

Malyn furrowed her brow.

“Should I add to my record that, as the daughter of a concubine, I was given less food?”

“…That won’t be necessary.”

Layla replied a little late, her expression showing a slight sense of relief. Malyn raised an eyebrow. The once thin and frail princess certainly looked healthier now, that much was clear. Malyn’s sensitivity to such things stemmed from her own experience of starvation.

Had she not eaten well as a child? It was then that Malyn remembered the story of the princess and the poisoned apple she’d recently read in the library – a tale of a princess who fell into a deathly sleep after eating a poisoned apple given to her by her stepmother, only to be revived by a prince’s kiss.

Poison.

Given her reputation as a very unpopular princess, it wouldn’t be surprising if she ate sparingly to avoid the risk of poison in her food. Malyn furrowed her brow, suddenly reminded that she hadn’t bothered to be careful since arriving at Veldam Castle and had happily eaten without concern. It was common for nobles to carry silver pins to test for poison in their food, and she wondered if the Dion princess was gaining a reputation for being careless.

The ironic part was that, despite being held as a hostage, Layla seemed to be gaining weight in this foreign castle.

At Dion Castle, she had been so thin and would mostly only say things like, “I forgive you” and “What do you think?” But these days, Layla had visibly gained weight and was definitely speaking more. Though, most of what she said was just weak responses to my taunts.

At that point, Malyn grew even more irritated. Here was someone born a princess, yet she’d let herself fall so low that she couldn’t even respond with strength to the words of a mere maid. What could she possibly be so comfortable with that she was even putting on weight?