Ambriella

Week One. Day Four.

I think my fingers are going to fall off. I've said this to myself a million times, but I really mean it this time. They might actually come off.

Here I am peeling a mountain of potatoes for next week's supper. If there's anything Drisella loves more than making me suicidal at every turn, it's baked potatoes. She eats them every night without fail. For nine years. Ten people on staff here at Royce Manor—a cook, a groundskeeper, four maids, two butlers, a stable boy, and the valet—and they still insist upon my handling of everything. It's to break me. They just want to see me struggle. Fine, then. I'll struggle. It'll only make it that much worse when I rip your hair out.

I'm not going to the ball tonight. Though it'd be fun, there's just too much work to do tonight. I'm going to peel Lucia's face off with this peeler in two months' time.

"I hate this color," Anastasia says to herself. Tears are gathering in her eyes from her frustration. "Ambriella, how could you let me choose this color?"

Sorry your nail enamel makes your hands look like you dipped them in cat shit. Not my fault you're half colorblind.

"I wasn't there, Anastasia," I remind her. Fucking fruit cake.

"It's too late to take it off now," Lucia says. "The coachman is here. Don't leave on the porch light, girl. We won't be back until after sunrise."

"Yes, mother."

And the door is closed behind them, leaving me to my thoughts.

So last night was just as smooth as the first. Dancing is hardly the best way to pass the time at a ball. If anything, it's a great way to work up a sweat. But now that winter is over, I'm trying to reduce my resemblance to a skeleton here. So I promised myself that I'd only dance one or two. But I ended up getting asked for a turn by three different guys and I have no clue how to refuse without looking like I have a stick shoved up my asshole and tickling my brain. It's a party, after all. So I danced. And it was fun. And the whole arrangement with the carriage and Master Buxton's midnight curfew worked out alright. So going back is definitely going to happen. But I still have appearances to keep up here. Lucia will get the drift that something is wrong if Royce Manor starts to look like a jungle. So maybe I can continue in this pattern. Go one day, skip the next. It could work.