As Lady Dimitrescu dines with the black priestess, Gretta thinks how Erika could not have left at a better time.
Even if the young maid had to take her place standing behind the Mistress's chair.
Gabriella provided her with a stunning dress that took Gretta's breath away; but for Lady Dimitrescu, it's not very invigorating. Just enough to make her look presentable, but not spectacular. Gretta isn't used to such luxuries, so she would argue that it's the most beautiful dress she's ever seen.
The high neck is threaded with gold, whorling and trailing down the thick vine design to the double-breasted bodice. The thick skirt is warming for the colder months, her feet tucked into a pair of laced boots with a small enough hill that isn't killing her feet.
But it's her hair that she is most impressed by; Gabriella had managed to pin it and braid it in a way that complemented her natural curls, rather than just try to tame them. Though her hair doesn't coil tightly, it waves and curls enough that brushing leaves it a frazzled mess.
A few loose curls frame her face, tickling her cheekbones while the smell of the baby's breath trickles into her nose. Gabriella had weaved the little flower into her braid as means to compliment the deep green of her dress.
Gretta wasn't too thrilled on how the smell matched closely to Mother Miranda.
The priestess's gaze was leering - her gaze shifting to the young maid every few minutes. Giving her as much attention as she would a passing shadow, but it still unnerved her. But at least the daughter's weren't invited to this
As the clock strikes five in the evening, Gretta is eagerly waiting to be dismissed. For most of the meal, their conversations have been pleasant; discussing happenings around the village and of Saleenwoche.
But Gretta knew there was something else they wanted to discuss that her presence hindered. Why Mother Miranda insisted on her staying, she doesn't know.
And apparently, neither did Lady Dimitrescu.
Lady Dimitrescu has just finished her sentence when the priestess says, "I hope our idle chatter isn't boring you,my dear."
Gretta immediately plasters the smile she's trained into her very being since starting here, "Not at all, Your Grace." Though she holds the title of priestess, she might as well be royalty with her rule over the village. "But, if there are more private matters to be discussed, I can excuse myself."
She flicks her gaze to Lady Dimitrescu, finding the woman inconspicuously dipping her chin in approval.
"Of course dear, thank you. And perhaps give Erika a piece of your mind for taking her place for such a mindless task." Her giggle skitters along Gretta's skin like a cockroach.
The young maid stiffens, looking to Lady Dimitrescu, who thankfully interjects, "On the contrary, Mother Miranda, I asked Gretta to be here."
"Oh?" The priestess leans forward, resting her chin on her gilded gold hand. "Did she finally lose your favor?" she purrs.
Lady Dimitrescu smoothly answers, "Hardly - her schedule is just very demanding."
"Too demanding to be at your side?"
"When she's being torn between my three daughters, it would appear so. But there are plenty of other servants here in the castle."
"None that you treat anywhere near as special as Erika."
Gretta's heart triples in speed, but she wills her face into neutrality. She can feel something shift in the room, groaning the wood and chilling the air. She takes a few steps back into the corner.
"My daughters are my joy. I'm more than willing to compromise for them."
Mother Miranda only blinks. Abruptly, she then turns to Gretta and asks, "How is the poor dear since her endeavor with Heisenberg?"
Gretta blinks with surprise. She looks to Lady Dimitrescu, unsure. The Mistress only lifts her brow. "I-I'm sorry, Your Grace, but I'm confused."
A spider's smile. "Well, you're quite close aren't you?"
Despite her heart sinking, flushing the color from her skin, Gretta keeps her shoulders square, her spine steeled. "She's proven to be much more charming than some others, but it's more of a role of a big sister."
The priestess hums in answer. "To replace the one she left behind?"
"I suppose."
Every instinct in her screams to be quiet, to play dumb. But there's also a part of her that fears lying to the village ruler. If she's asking about Erika, she just knows it cannot be for good reason. Instinct, or intuition, something is telling her not to tell where Erika is.
"Well, I certainly hope she's not too overbearing."
Gretta allows a prideful smile. "Hardly. I would even argue that I rely on it. Gives a sense of normality."
"You have siblings back home?"
"Older ones. They're already out of the house."
"Do you write to them often?"
"When I can. It's rather costly to send them internationally. And they haven't really responded in a while."
Mother Miranda's lips flatten in a parody of pity. Gretta can see the disappointment and vexation swimming behind those stunning, frightening eyes.
It wasn't a total lie - her two brothers had left the village once they became of age, and they haven't really written to her or her parents for some time now. The last that Gretta knew of them, they'd settled down and gotten married. But never came to visit.
The temporary weight in her heart overlaps the fear.
"Shame." is all Mother Miranda answers with. "I'd imagine Erika is quite a valuable friend to have."
"Mother Miranda, please," Lady Dimitrescu interjects with grit teeth, nearly quaking Gretta's knees with relief, "I'd like to have our discussion finished before you're called away."
The priestess is slow to look at her, the impertinence alone - on anyone else - would result in their heads rolling on the floor.
But Gretta watches as Lady Dimitrescu fists her gloved hand beneath the table and takes a long, steadying breath. Without waiting for her answer, Lady Dimitrescu says to Gretta, "You're relieved of your duty, Gretta. You may return to the kitchen."
Gretta bows at the waist and leaves without another word, or another glance at Mother Miranda. Though a part of her is disappointed to be changing back into her usual homespun dresses, the relief of putting as much distance between her and the priestess smothers the former.
Suddenly Erika being called away to Lady Beneviento's makes so much more sense. If Mother Miranda is after her, then the pressure of Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters would be the least of her worries.
How she handles the constant pressures and attention, Gretta will never know, but will forever admire and credit Erika. She, herself, barely handled tonight's dinner. How Erika does this everyday, her schedule filled to the brim with each Dimitrescu member . . .
Bianca was right - they really did rely on Erika to keep them at bay, maybe more than then they ever realized.
She's changed in a matter of minutes, and by the time she stalks back into the kitchen, the dining room is empty, and the table cleared. The warmth of the oven is welcomed as she steps through the doorway, immediately spotting Bianca by the hearth, already stirring a new soup in the cauldron.
Her ebony hair is bundled into a knot atop her head, loosened strands clinging to her jaw. Her head snaps towards Gretta, setting the large, wooden spoon aside to hurry over to Gretta, enveloping her in a hug.
The young maid smiles, briefly noting how Bianca always has a hint of cinnamon to her.
"How'd it go?" she asks.
"I'm alive."
The rest of the maids are going about their business, comfortable, idle chatter floating between their concentration.
"How'd you do?" Astrid asks from her spot at the table, chopping vegetables. Though her green eyes are lifted with curiosity, her hands chop with expert practice.
"I didn't get killed." Gretta giggles, earning a tut of annoyance.
"This was your first time standing by the Mistress, right?" Melina asks, glancing over her shoulder from washing the dishes.
"And hopefully the last." Gretta sighs. "I've sweat so much I'm going to need a spatula to pry it off."
Most of the maids groan, but Gretta manages to draw a few laughs from them. Furthered when Irina - one of the dark-haired twins - grabs a spatula from the holder, and tucks it into the pocket of her apron.
Bianca had been right in her observation - most of the maids did seem brighter with Erika taking on most of the attention from Dimitrescu and her daughters. She hasn't heard many of them laugh so openly in a while, and the Black God knows she's tried.
Gretta walks over to the other side of the work table, permanently stained white from the constant coating of flour. Without word, guided by routine, Mihaela sets a bowl down at the station, and Gretta dips her hand in a ceramic jar and spreads the newest coating of flour.
"We're making perogies." Louis says from the back, no doubt carving up a piece of beef.
As Gretta begins to knead the dough, she says, "I don't know how Erika manages to keep her nerves. I could feel my knees trembling beneath the dress."
"That looked fabulous on you, by the way." Astrid chimes.
"Gabriella picked it for me. She's like a wizard with those dresses."
"Maybe that's how Erika can stay calm, because she knows she looks good." Bianca giggles.
"Or because she knows she's the favorite," Nadine suddenly chimes.
Gretta hadn't initially noticed her, tucked in a corner of shadows, plucking away at a headless, fat chicken. Hanging on the wall next to her is a pheasant and another chicken awaiting their turn.
Gretta stiffens, but Astrid chimes, "Well, so long as it keeps the daughters from bothering us, she can keep that title."
"You'd be amazed at how she acts around them, and vise-versa." Bianca interjects. "I'd dare say she's changing them."
"There's no way." Nadine suddenly snaps, ripping a handful of feathers from the chicken. "They're just trying to lure her in, let her guard down."
Gretta smashes the bundle of dough on the counter with good measure, the crack of the impact ringing throughout the kitchen, causing some maids to flinch. None of them had forgotten how Nadine sold out Erika in the theft of Lady Dimitrescu's lipstick. Bianca had been the one to tell the maids of the maid's set up, and needless to say, most have kept their distance from her ever since.
If she can easily manipulate and connive to Erika, then the rest of them are likely to be met with the same treatment.
But it wasn't until Gabriella confided to Helga about Nadine's unnatural obsession with the daughters - particularly Cassandra. One night of passing by the middle daughter's bedroom had revealed to Gabriella the sadistic treatment that Nadine actually encouraged - even dare say enjoyed it.
Gretta had noted when Nadine was Cassandra's own lady-in-waiting for a while, until she was stuck to the arm of a nobleman's son. After his 'disappearance' into the dungeon, Nadine almost seemed to wait for the daughter like a lost puppy. And when she didn't return, she became very withdrawn.
This all happened within months of Erika coming to the castle. An unfortunate hand of fate.
"You almost seemed concerned about her." Gretta prods, earning a glare from Bianca.
"I'm not. I'm just waiting for them to grow tired of her. Then hopefully her death will be swift." Nadine grounds, the entire conversation, she's never once looked at any of them.
"What?" Gretta snips, her tone sharpening.
"The only reason she's getting special treatment is because her whore of a mother probably taught her some tricks." Nadine denigrates, ripping another chunk of feathers from the chicken.
"You don't know anything about her." Gretta snarls, turning towards the girl.
"I know that she has no idea what any of them like." She grumbles quietly, barely a glance over her shoulder. "She doesn't know them at all. But the Mistress lets her sleep in the same bed." she mutters.
Astrid leans Bianca as she places a few more bowls into the dishwater. "She's lost her mind."
"Assuming she ever had it to begin with." Bianca replies, but instead of it being barbed, it's instead laced with pity.
Nadine then mutters, "Mistress lets her call them by her name." Her knee suddenly bouncing relentlessly.
"You know she probably saved our lives by taking on all the attention."
"Tell that to Camelia, and Kathryn." Following in a quieter tone, she says, "She'll come back to me. She'll love me. I've always been the favorite."
Gretta fists her hand, her anger filling her as she says, "You need to wake up, Nadine - "
"Gretta - " Louis warns.
But the fiery red-haired maid stomps over towards Nadine. "Get out of your fantasy world and understand that none of them love you."
"You're wrong!" Nadine bellows. In one smooth motion, she hauls up from her seat, slamming the chicken on the ground.
Gretta doesn't yield, willing Erika's strength and mercilessness in her veins as she stares at Nadine.
"That fucking bitch is just another plaything. They'll get bored of her eventually, and then they'll cut her from nose to navel."
"And they won't do the same to you?"
"No," Nadine says with a manic, almost triumphant giggle. "Because I'm the favorite. I've always been the favorite. I've done everything for her!"
"She tortures you."
"She loves me. She lets her walls down around me, because I'm the only one who understands."
Something ticks in Gretta's mind, and she says, "Did you know Cassandra gave Erika a present?"
"Gretta! Enough!" Louis vexes.
Nadine's eyes twitch, her mouth popping open in disbelief.
"Cassandra gave Erika a lovely sword. What did she ever give you, all those times you were strapped to her bed?"
Naidne shakes her head, whipping her chocolate brown, pin-straight hair. "She's pretending. She must be pretending."
"You're pathetic, Nadine. You're just as pathetic as Kathryn, and maybe Cassandra finally saw that."
"Shut up," Nadine starts with deadly quiet.
"You really think she'd want someone who will constantly fold and submit to her? If you know her so well, you would've seen how she likes a challenge. Likes a hunt. You tried so hard to win her favor, and yet Erika was able to win them all over in a few weeks."
"They'll get bored. They'll all get bored of her eventually." Nadine's voice is slowly rising, her face flushing red, highlighting her smattering of freckles. "They're going to grow tired of her constant 'independence' and will. And they're going to drag her down to the dungeons. And as the apple doens't fall far from the gaping tree, I hope they let every man and fucking animal in the village abuse that fucking cunt - "
Glass shatters and red liquid splatters everywhere.
No one saw Gretta grab the wine bottle from the cart tucked next to the worktable. It was something they'd created so they wouldn't have to wander so far down into the basement to retrieve them.
She had to wait for her chance to swipe it, make sure Nadine was so worked into a frenzy that no one would notice Gretta's hand grab the first bottle within her reach.
Nadine drops to the floor like a stone. She'd barely recovered before Gretta grabs a fistful of Nadine's hair and punches her in the cheek.
Louis is already there yanking Gretta away from Nadine while Irina and Melina tend to her, carefully lifting her to her feet. Bianca steps between Gretta and Nadine, but the former is finished.
"Oh, you impulsive brats." Louis curses, inspecting the damage. Already Nadine's cheek is red, the skin quickly darkening.
"You're fucking pathetic Nadine, and no one is ever going to love you!" Gretta hollers over Bianca's shoulder.
"Fuck you, you useless bitch!" Nadine slurs.
"I'd love to see you say that to Erika's face you fucking coward! Fuck you!"
"Gretta!" Bianca snipes, digging her nails into Gretta's forearm for good measure. Through grit teeth she says, "Enough."
Gretta's gaze flicks between Bianca and Nadine, the latter's crystalline eyes brimmed with tears and hatred.
Still, Gretta says, "Never talk about my friend again. You disrespect her again, and I'll take care of you for her."