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There was something wrong with her Lady.
The Third Prince got into an argument with Lord Keith, causing my Lady to stop inhaling her cakes for a moment to giggle at the two.
There was something wrong with her Lady, and no one else could see it.
Her friends didn't see it, and neither did her parents. To everyone else, my Lady was her usual chaotic, charming, happy self, oblivious to the advances of those around her, eating more sweets than should be healthy, working with her hoe in her garden. Celebrating all the presents she was given.
The happiest she ever is each year. The day of her birth. Surrounded by friends and family that she loves and that love her, given presents she loves, eating sweets she loves. How could it be anything but a perfect day for her?
I knew better.
It was in the uncharacteristic solemness she woke up with, hiding it the moment she realized I was in the room.
It was in the tension she couldn't completely lose that others mistook as excitement.
It was in the tiny flinches whenever someone mentioned her age.
The others couldn't see, or perhaps refused to see. It would be so easy to let yourself think you are just seeing things. My Lady is an open book after all, blunt and naive and incapable of lying or hiding anything. Surely, if there was something wrong, everyone would notice immediately.
My Lady is very good at hiding that she sometimes suffers from nightmares. Even her brother doesn't realize. But I know. So I can't let myself think that.
Every year, my Lady celebrates her birthday. She loves the day. There is no doubt about that, she isn't pretending to be happy, she is happy. But then, at night when everyone is asleep, she brings out candles and lights them up. Nine blue candles on ninth birthday. Ten blue candles on tenth birthday. Sixteen blue candles on sixteenth birthday today.
And seventeen white candles each time.
She puts them in two rows by the color, lights them all up, and sits in silence for several minutes, sometimes letting out a few tears, never smiling. Like a prisoner, counting days before her execution. She sings a song in a language I can't understand, a song that sounds like it should be happy, yet performed in a way that makes my heart break a little.
Then she whispers a wish. "Let me live." She puts out the candles, hides them, and goes to bed.
She always has nightmares the night after her birthday. She always excuses her tiredness the next day by saying that the party excited her so much she couldn't sleep.
I tried asking her once about those candles, on her tenth birthday. She asked me not to ask or talk about it, with an expression I had never seen on her face before. I couldn't refuse.
But she allows me to stay with her in the room when she does that strange ritual. I make sure to replace those candles that have almost burnt out the next day.
I don't understand what she's doing and why. She is my Lady however, and if a moment of privacy with candles and without a smile is what she needs, then it is my duty to make sure she gets it.
Something is especially wrong with my Lady today.
As always, she wakes up to her birthday solemn. But she never woke up looking quietly terrified.
She eats her sweets as always. Despite it being her birthday, she eats less than on a normal day.
When the Third Prince surprises her from behind, for a moment she looks terrified, before she starts pouting at her fiance.
She changes topics when her brother and Fourth Prince start discussing something related to Lord Keith's earth golems, when usually she loves to hear such things.
She ends the party a bit earlier than expected, instead of begging her mother to make the party longer. She claims she feels a bit under the weather.
At night, she brings out seventeen blue candles and seventeen white candles. She can't light them up because her body is shaking. I light those candles instead.
My lady stares at the candles, but where she would normally sit almost motionlessly, she is trembling and hiccuping. She tries to sing the song, but her voice breaks and she can't.
I have been trying to record the song, so I bring out the note and try singing it instead of her. I know I make mistakes, my throat can't seem to produce some of the sounds properly and I haven't recorded all the words perfectly, but I try my best.
My Lady hugs me during the song and I hug her back. She doesn't stop trembling. When I finish the song, she starts crying into my shoulder.
She doesn't make a wish to the candles. Through the tears, she begs into my shoulder. "I don't want to die! I don't want to die!" I try telling her that she won't, but she doesn't seem to hear me. The words only stop when she cries herself to sleep.
I put her to bed. Afterwards, I turn to the candles. Though I can't understand where my Lady's fear is coming from, or what is the purpose of this ritual, I make a wish. "Please, let Lady Katarina live." Only then I put the candles out.
Something is so wrong with my Lady today that I'm not the only one to notice.
Her eighteenth birthday party is canceled due to how pale my Lady looks.
Her friends try to see her, but for the first time ever my Lady doesn't want to see them.
I bring her light dinner to her room. She doesn't even touch the cookies.
She pretends to be asleep when anyone but me comes to check on her.
There is a talk about bringing in a doctor, perhaps a light mage even. I convince Lord and Lady Claes to only do that if my Lady still seems sick tomorrow. I have a feeling she won't.
At night, my Lady sets eighteen blue candles and seventeen white candles. She lights up all but one blue candle. She waits exactly until midnight passes to light up the last one.
She stares at the eighteenth candle in disbelief, until tears start dropping from her eyes. She hugs me, and this time there are no wishes and no begging. There is only amazement, gratefulness, and pure relief. "Anne, I live! I live!"
For the first time, the light of the candles reveals a smile.
"Yes, my Lady, you live."
It breaks my heart that she is so happy about just living to such a young age, but her happiness also mends my heart afterwards.
We sing the song together. My Lady tells me it's a Happy Birthday song from Japan. I don't know what this Japan is or where my Lady would have learnt the language this song is in, but at that point I'm just happy she is telling me anything.
My Lady starts putting out the candles without a wish, but in my mind I make one.
Please, let Lady Katarina keep this smile forever.
Nothing is wrong with my Lady today.
She wakes up from a nightmare, but instead of being solemn, she greets the morning with a brilliant smile.
Since she's feeling better, and all her friends stayed the night at the Claes manor, my Lady demands a birthday party now. Everyone is all too happy to oblidge.
My Lady doesn't flinch when someone mentions her age, her smile grows even larger.
Her body isn't tense.
She eats so many sweets she almost vomits.
And before sleep she tells me of vending machines, big metal and glass boxes that you put money into and click a number and the box drops almost anything, from tea to rubber balls to small cameras. I don't know what a rubber ball or a camera is, but I listen intently.
Next evening I hear about rice balls.
Next evening I hear about a loyal dog that kept waiting for his dead owner. I tear up a little at that.
Next evening I hear about manga, books where each page is a drawing and you read from right to left.
During the day none of her friends are available and because of rain she can't work in her garden, so my Lady is bored. I ask her if she can teach me the language her song is in. She gladly agrees. It's very difficult and uses three alphabets and my Lady isn't the best teacher but I try my best each day from now on.
Many evenings and many stories later I hear about her death at the young age of seventeen.
Many days later during breakfast I surprise my Lady by writing "I love you" in Japanese on her omelet with a special tomato sauce inspired by the 'ketchup' she told me about. Explaining to Duchess why my Lady teared up at seeing omelet with a red sauce on it was awkward, but absolutely worth it.