The moment the maid said it, Straw stared at her brother, wondering if he even understood the word scissoring. Her eyes lingered on his face a second too long, searching for any sign of recognition, embarrassment, or realization. There was none. Duke Pine held his sister's hand, looking slightly pissed as he tightened his grip on her, fingers firm and grounding as if anchoring her in place.
The courtyard around them buzzed softly with life. Servants moved in the background, whispering, pretending not to listen while very obviously listening. Straw could feel their curiosity pressing in from all sides.
"You mean to tell me that the reason I couldn't find the princess at the banquet last night was because you two were busy bonding with scissors?" Straw blinked.
Her mouth opened, then closed again, her brain lagging behind the sentence she had just heard.
"Excuse me?"
"You befriended the princess so well that you even showed her your scissoring skills."
Straw stared at him, wondering if his definition of scissoring was the same as hers. Her thoughts spun wildly, images clashing together in the most uncomfortable way possible. Her face felt hot, her ears burning as she tried to reconcile what he was saying with what had actually happened.
"Brother," Straw asked slowly, each word measured, "what do you think I was doing with the princess last night?"
"The thing you and mother always do every day in the morning," he said.
Straw's heart skipped.
Her breath caught, and a wave of confusion washed over her. Several forbidden thoughts flashed through her mind, uninvited and unwanted. Her imagination betrayed her instantly, producing images she never asked for and definitely did not want.
Then Pine continued, completely unaware of the chaos he was causing, "You two were doing it for the sake of passing time, and I watched as you both enjoyed it. When I wanted to join, Mother said only the ladies can do it and men are not allowed."
Straw's face went completely blank.
Her soul left her body for a brief moment.
She stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused, lips parted slightly as her brain tried to reboot.
"I can't believe you showed the princess, I mean, your future sister-in-law, that," Pine added, shaking his head. "I'm so jealous of you, sister. But did you use that opportunity to tell her that you have a handsome, single duke ready for marriage?"
"I was too busy to remember," Straw said plainly.
Her voice came out flat, drained of emotion. She did not have the strength to correct him. Not now.
"It's a good thing you thought of teaching the princess embroidery. Our daughters will be able to learn it someday."
The moment he said embroidery, Straw's mind finally caught up.
The word echoed in her head, clicking into place like the final piece of a puzzle she never wanted to solve. Understanding hit her all at once, sudden and overwhelming. Her shoulders shook as the absurdity of the situation crashed down on her.
She burst out laughing.
It was not a polite laugh. It was loud, sharp, uncontrollable. She bent forward slightly, one hand pressed to her stomach as the sound spilled out of her. Everyone around them turned to look, confused, startled, some even offended by her sudden outburst.
Pine frowned at her, clearly not understanding what was so funny.
Straw laughed until her chest hurt and her eyes watered. When she finally managed to breathe again, she wiped at the corner of her eye and straightened up, still smiling despite herself.
After some time, Duke Pine took his sister to the guest house he had booked the night before. The journey there was quiet. Straw followed beside him, her laughter fading into a tired calm. She let him lead, her steps slow but steady.
He could not return to his city without his twin sister. The thought lingered heavily between them. Surely, he would have loved that outcome, freedom from responsibility, freedom from her chaos. But their mother would send him back crawling until he found her.
Straw was given a room in the private guest house. The room was nice, warm and clean, but it was nothing compared to the princess's room. The ceiling was lower, the furniture simpler, the windows smaller. It was clearly meant for guests, temporary and forgettable. Still, it was safe.
Straw settled in slowly, letting the quiet of the space wrap around her. She took a bath, scrubbing away the lingering scent of blood, fear, and sweat. The water ran clear eventually, and she felt lighter afterward, as if she had shed more than just dirt.
She tidied herself up, smoothing her hair, adjusting her posture. Her luggage was brought in shortly after, placed neatly at the foot of the bed by a servant who bowed before leaving.
She opened her luggage and searched for a better dress. One by one, she pulled them out, examining the fabric, the cuts, the layers. All of them were medieval gowns meant for proper ladies. Tight in strange places, heavy with embroidery and lace. Clothes that felt like costumes rather than something she belonged in. She sighed. It was a style she was still struggling to adapt to.
Straw did not think of running away anymore. The thought crossed her mind briefly, then faded. She realized she knew nothing about this world. The streets, the rules, the dangers. Even if she escaped, where would she go. Who would she trust.
Besides, the Duke did not seem evil or villainous. He did not give off the energy of someone plotting behind her back. If anything, he felt familiar. Protective. Annoying.
He gave off the vibes of an overprotective older brother, even though they were twins.
That thought made her chest tighten unexpectedly.
Later, Straw and Duke Pine sat down for breakfast at the guest house. The table was set neatly, steam rising from plates of scrambled eggs and toasted bread with other kinds of food. Pine was busy reading the newspaper, posture relaxed, eyes scanning the page with focus.
Straw picked up her fork and began eating, her appetite returning despite everything. She caught a glimpse of the front page headline.
The Princess of Anthony Beheads Again.
The bold letters stared back at her. Straw opened her mouth slightly, wondering how such news was printed so fast, how a life could be reduced to ink and paper so quickly. She swallowed the thought along with a bite of egg and continued eating her scrambled eggs and toast.
"So, brother," Straw said casually, her tone light despite the heaviness of her thoughts, "how would you take it if you found out the princess doesn't have an eye for you?"
Pine lowered the paper and stared at her.
"What do you mean by that?"
"What if the princess likes girls and not... boys?" Straw continued. "What would you do then? Would you still pursue her?"
Pine placed the paper on his lap and leaned back in his chair. His expression shifted, confidence settling in as if the answer was obvious.
"There are no options here. The princess is meant to marry a prince, not a princess. I am meant to marry her. She is my future bride."
"You haven't even met her, and you're already claiming her," Straw said, watching him closely. "Do you even know what she's like?"
"Straw," Pine replied, clearly annoyed now, "can you find something else to do instead of engaging in useless conversations? I am not understanding what you are saying right now. You of all people should know that failure is not a choice. I don't know about you, but I will not return home without a princess."
He paused, then added, almost casually, "And if she likes girls, I won't mind having both. Her girl will be my girl."
Straw stared at him for a long second. Then she dropped the discussion. She continued eating quietly while Pine returned to his newspaper, the sound of pages flipping filling the silence between them. Her appetite dulled, but she forced herself to finish.
Just as she was halfway through her meal, the door burst open without warning.
Two royal guards marched in, boots heavy against the floor, expressions stern and unreadable.
"Lady Strawlita Holliday Fayrouza," one of them announced, "you are summoned to the royal palace."