The young king of Veldam was famous for his strikingly handsome face and graceful demeanour. Before he removed his mask, he was considered harsh at best and known for his cruelty. But once freed from the curse and unmasked, the king seemed completely transformed. Every decision he made was clear and precise, and his actions carried a new gentleness, a fitting testament to his noble bloodline. After all, he had worn the golden mask for over twenty years, almost thirty – enough to drive anyone mad. So everyone found his change understandable and welcomed it. He was now a young, handsome and merciful king.

Yet, there was one area where he remained as firm as ever: matters concerning his queen from Dion. For instance, there was the issue of where he slept. The chief servant insisted that people of noble standing should each have their own space, but every night, the king would sleep in the queen’s chamber.

People found it all quite strange and couldn’t help but whisper. Some maids would say, “Isn’t it wonderful that they’re so close?”

Yet, those who actually observed the royal couple came to think it wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

There were moments that stood out, like when they lined up the knights and servants and giggled together as if they were the only two people in the world. Or when, in the dim light, they picked tender buds from the garden and pressed them between their lips. They even threw little stones at each other playfully. It was, well… childishly silly. If they were a boy and a girl just coming of age, it would make sense. But they were a married couple, together long enough to have a child.

To those watching, it all seemed rather strange.

And as for the queen, her behavior was something else entirely.

Raised as a noblewoman, the queen roamed the castle, inspecting the work of the servants with a meticulousness that bordered on the tyrannical. She even visited the laundry and storerooms, leaving a trail of sharp remarks in her wake. Every word she spoke seemed to be barbed. With such a strict mistress constantly scrutinising everything, the servants could hardly breathe.

“What could she be missing to make her act like this? It’s like she’s mad.”

“Well, wouldn’t you? Remember, His Majesty destroyed your homeland, Dion. Who could keep their sanity after that? Sometimes I feel her tongue could cut with how sharp it is, but when I think of losing everyone she’s ever known, I suppose it makes sense.”

“And His Majesty – he treats her like a delicate flower, protecting her as if she would break at the slightest touch, yet he destroyed Dion. What sense does that make?”

“Who knows? Do you think I understand him?”

“But it is amazing how the queen treats him. She orders him around as if he were her servant. They say he even bathes with her. Can you believe it?”

“The princess?”

“She’s in the courtyard, trying her best to ride the young colt.”

“The colt.”

Malyn clicked her tongue. Her five-year-old daughter, with her father’s soft golden curls, had been begging for the colt ever since she’d seen him born in the spring. Malyn had firmly refused, but it seemed the king had granted her wish.

“Let’s see, then.”

She got up, tidied her bed and went into the living room. Although summer was approaching, the stone-built Veldam Castle was poorly heated, and the chill lingered even at midday. She opened the worn, polished wooden window and the castle courtyard came into view.

“What a mess.”

“Oh, but Your Majesty,” said the maid, who had just brought her a basin of water, “you always say that, yet there’s always a smile on your lips.”

Malyn quickly straightened her expression, but the maid only laughed softly as she handed her a linen cloth, well aware of the queen’s preference for doing her own morning routine.

After dabbing her face with warm water, Malyn sat down to the usual bread, cheese and ale. But something bright red caught her eye: raspberries.

The maid added lightly, “It seems the early summer sun has ripened the raspberries beautifully.”

“Raspberries, around here?”

Raspberries were so delicate that they rarely made it to the royal table intact.

“This morning the King found them while taking the colt for a walk with the princess.”

“I see.”

Malyn looked thoughtfully at the raspberries, then popped one into her mouth. Instead of the familiar sourness, a sweet taste enveloped her tongue.

“Not to my taste. You have some”.

“Oh, is it really not good?”

It was usual for the maids to eat all the food left by their mistress, so this was an unexpected treat. Tilting her head, the maid popped a raspberry into her mouth and savoured the sweetness.

“It’s only sweet.”

Then, realising that her mistress might change her mind and decide to finish the berries after all, she hunched her shoulders and resumed eating.

Malyn turned her head to look out the window below. The maids were laughing and calling loudly in the direction of the stables, where the princess seemed to be, though she was out of sight.

“What’s going on now?”

At that moment, another young maid approached, setting down a teapot and cup.

“Ah, it’s some tea leaves from the local lord nearby. They were left to dry and this morning they were roasted in the castle kitchen”.

“Fancy that…”

Malyn recognised what it was. She remembered how, during her time working in an inn, the owner had occasionally boasted about this trend of roasting leaves for the nobles’ tea. At the time, she’d thought, ‘If you’re going to roast something, it might as well be grain – at least it fills the stomach. The nobles must really be running out of ideas for their drinks.’

Now that she was in such a position herself, it felt strangely different.

“How is it?”

Malyn took a sip of the tea the maid had poured and immediately pursed her lips, letting out a small sigh.

“It’s boiling hot!”

“Oh, come on, that’s good. Take another sip. Can’t you smell the delicious aroma?”

Malyn took another sip, only to smack her lips again.

“It’s bitter!”

“My, my, the queen is certainly choosy, isn’t she? But I suppose you’ve had so much tea that it hardly impresses you anymore, hm?”

Instead of snapping back, Malyn poked absently at the tea leaves on the tray the maid had brought, spreading them with her fingertips. The dried brown leaves had red spots here and there.

“Is the kitchen busy?”

“Pardon? Why do you ask…?”

Since the lords of Veldam Castle weren’t particularly demanding when it came to their meals, the kitchen wouldn’t be too busy before lunch. Malyn knew that well enough without needing an answer. Before the maid could reply, she grabbed the tea leaves, got up and headed straight to the kitchen.

As she descended the stone steps, the maids hurried to follow. It wasn’t unusual for the Queen to make sudden visits to the servants, so most of them had learned to expect it. For those working in the kitchen, however, it was still a bit of a shock.

“Who’s there…?”

“It’s Her Majesty the Queen.”

“Oh, my goodness!

The servants, cook and maids who had looked out quickly bowed low, but Malyn waved them away.

“I need to use an iron pot.”

“A pot? What do you plan to do…?”

The maid asked, tilting her head in curiosity instead of the cook.

“Go and fetch the leftover leaves from the drying process.”

Malyn instructed, holding up the tea leaves in her hand. The maid seemed to finally understand and nodded reluctantly, shuffling off with a resigned look that seemed to say, ‘There she goes again with her odd habits.’

Meanwhile, the cook, still looking uncomfortable, brought over a small, freshly scrubbed iron pot.

“Put it on the fire, and you, bring some straw.”