Unspun

by Ruth Nickle

  “Here, Princess,” said Shyla, the assistant seamstress. She wasn’t much older than I, and I often wondered about her ringless hand. Why was she unmarried? In Featherwick, all maidens were expected to marry unless their skills offered more than their role as wife and mother. Was her ability to sew considered so great that she would not need to bind herself to a man? Perhaps I should have learned something other than horsemanship or arguing with my father.

  After a few minutes of close scrutiny, the queen finally took her leave, and I relaxed a touch. When the other ladies-in-waiting retired to the corner of the room, as they usually did once the queen was gone, I gathered my courage. “How is it you’re not married?” I whispered to Shyla.

  She poked her finger with the needle and flinched, and I noticed her eyes flitting toward the group in the corner. “That was not the path chosen for me,” she said, her voice low.

  I frowned. “You wanted to be married?”

  She swallowed. “I had promised someone that we could be—but it wasn’t meant to be.”

  Only then did I notice the trembling chin, and I suddenly wished I’d held my tongue. “Could you not still—?”

  “No,” she said immediately. “He has been given to another. To Lady Nelda, actually.” Nelda stood in the corner with the other young ladies, and only then did I recognize the undercurrent of tension between Shyla and Nelda. I assumed from her position as a lady-in-waiting that Nelda did not have any discernible skills. In Featherwick, this would usually mean that Nelda had no say but Shyla did; yet here, things were skewed.

  My thoughts churned. I had left Featherwick and my home because my father had promised me to a man I did not, could not love. My father appeared not to care at all about my feelings and had instead focused only on his own gains from the match. I deeply resented being used as a pawn, and although he’d seemed to enjoy a healthy debate when I was younger, this time, he’d stood firm. “You will do this, Isabella,” he’d ground out. “You must see how beneficial this will be for all of us. Your mother will no longer have to put in such long hours, and I will be free to retire. Haven’t I done enough? This is your time to take on these responsibilities. Your sister already did her part; it’s your turn.”

  And that, according to him, had been that. Here I stood, not even a month later, allowing a sweet, sad girl to dress me in an ugly orange gown. I’d run away so I wouldn’t be used by others, so I could forge my own path. But even though I’d made the choice to marry Johan, was I truly building my own future? Or had I simply traded one cage for another?

  Suddenly, the gown seemed restricting, even though I knew it was perfectly made for me. I fought to keep my composure as Shyla wheeled over the full-length mirror. When I saw myself there, I gasped.

  Shyla smiled, obviously misinterpreting the noise. “It fits you so well,” she said.

  As if summoned, the queen glided in behind me. “Yes, it will do nicely. Well done, as always, Shyla. Thank your mother, as well.”

  I met the queen’s gaze in the mirror, and suddenly I couldn’t hold back. “I won’t wear this,” I said. “These colors are hideous!”

  Her mask didn’t slip, though I noticed her lips tighten. “You don’t really have a say in this, my dear. Johan will want you in the royal colors, and indeed, we insist. If you are to marry him and be his bride, you will wear our colors.”

  “Fine. Then I guess I’m not marrying your son.” As the dress wasn’t fastened, I could pull it off with some ease, and I did so quickly before moving past her and running from the room. I heard noise behind me, but I knew the queen wouldn’t run herself, and I’d surprised the others enough that I had a few moments.

  Of course, only three weeks in the palace did not make me an expert, and I was soon lost. But I watched the angle of the sun shining through the various windows, keeping the slanting shadows before me as much as I could. Soon, I found a side door, and when I pushed it open, I was outside. I ran down a mildly sloped lawn until I reached a bench. Only then did I realize I was sobbing—and half naked.

  “What will I do now?” I gasped. I wiped my face, but it had little effect on the torrent of moisture. I felt utterly and truly trapped. If I didn’t go through with this marriage, then I would have to return to my parents and marry that horrid man. After all, what skills did I have to survive on my own? I certainly couldn’t sew, like Shyla, and I’d never understood exactly what a lady-in-waiting did—not that this would help me avoid a marriage. I could ride a horse, but the only people I ever saw working with horses were men.

  I’d spent a fair amount of time with the stable boy when I’d sneaked out with Sofia, the princess. When I was younger, I’d thought maybe I could marry him. He was good-looking enough, and we’d done a little exploring with kisses and caresses. Sofia had always seemed so shocked when she realized what I’d been up to with him. “Don’t you think you should save this for marriage?” she’d asked.

  “Wouldn’t it better to know what I’m doing if I do get married?” I’d countered.

  “You mean ‘when.’ And you’ll figure it out; everyone does.” She’d seemed so confident, so certain.

  “You don’t want a little practice first? Silvan has a cousin,” I’d said.

  Sofia shook her head. “Silly Isabella,” she’d said, touching my cheek. “When you marry someone, you let your body follow your heart. It will all work out.”

  And maybe it had for her. She’d been married to the foreign prince only a few months after that, and although it was arranged in advance, she’d seemed content and pleased the last time I saw her. To my surprise, it wasn’t as much fun spending time in the stables without her, and I’d let my exploration with the stable boy fade. My parents would never have allowed me to marry him, anyway; he could do nothing to promote their status, after all. The man they’d chosen offered them a path to a more dignified future. It mattered little to them that they were sacrificing their own daughter’s happiness in the process.

  The hopelessness of it all swamped me, and I slumped against the cool stone back of the bench.

  “Are you all right?”

  The quiet voice interrupted my bitter thoughts, and I realized my face was wet, my nose running, and I was wearing little more than a thin corset. I refused to look up. I felt a presence beside me, and then a handkerchief was pressed into my hand. “Here. I think you might benefit from this.”

  I managed to capture a bit of the snot from my nose and tried to turn away, but a gentle hand stopped me. “Isabella, what is it? What is wrong?”

  Then I recognized Johan’s deep voice. I didn’t know what to say, so I focused on calming myself. Johan waited, not moving, as I tried to put myself in order again. “I don’t like your royal colors,” I managed to get out, my voice hoarse and rough.

  “Few do,” he said calmly. “If it helps, we rarely have to wear them. I think I see that outfit thrice a year, at most.”

  “I yelled at your mother,” I blurted. “I refused to wear the orange gown she had made for me.”

  To my shock, he chuckled. “Well, she’ll probably appreciate that—eventually. She likes strength.”

  Did nothing ruffle this boy? I turned to him, lifting my chin. “I don’t like the rules that say women must do what everyone else tells them to.”

  “I wouldn’t like it either, if I were a woman.” He sighed. “Honestly, I’m not that fond of all the rules for me, as well. As a prince—oh, who am I telling?” He smiled. “Perhaps the rules you truly don’t like are those for royalty.”

  I stared at him, taking in his calm demeanor, his handsome face with large brown eyes, long charcoal lashes, and his black curls. “Why on earth do you want to marry me? You don’t even know me.”

  Johan studied me for a moment, and I felt my face warm under his scrutiny. I certainly didn’t look my best. “Why are you here, Isabella?” He sounded both sad and a little frustrated.<
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  I opened my mouth to give the same vague answer I’d been giving for the past three weeks when something stopped me. I bit my lip, looking at him. At this point, I had nothing to lose with honesty. I was trapped either way. If I had to return to my parents—if I wasn’t “real” enough for Johan and his mother—I didn’t want to leave without baring myself at least once. Somehow, I felt I owed Johan that much.

  I searched to find the right words, then cleared my throat. “I had no desire to remain with my parents. They were in the midst of drawing up a marriage contract between me and Count Hapstorn, the leader of his royal family through circumstance rather than birth. I suppose it wouldn’t matter how he got there, though. He was not someone I could see myself loving or even enduring, even if it meant I could eventually take my place as the ruler of our small district. My father’s cousin would take over otherwise, and my father has never liked him. They put it to me quite clearly: perform your duty and marry the count. Since they gave me no other options, I chose to leave.”

  Johan blinked, and I saw true surprise flit across his face. “That’s not what I expected you to say,” he admitted.

  “What did you expect?” I asked.

  “I thought you were not a princess. I thought you’d been lying all along.”

  “You . . . ?” I stared. “Why would you allow me to stay, if that’s truly what you thought?”

  He shrugged. “I figured you needed to be away from your home. After all, you showed up here on a stormy night, and it was obvious that you’d chosen to leave, regardless of the dangers. I knew the truth would come out eventually, and in the meantime, you’d gain some comfort.”

  Words deserted me. He’d allowed all this to go on—the time with his mother, the fittings, the clothes, the food—for compassion and nothing more?

  “Did you know that I required a wife?” he asked then, his voice unnaturally even.

  I didn’t hesitate to tell the truth this time. “Honestly, I paid little attention to other royal families. I will admit that my own troubles blinded me to anything beyond our palace gates. It is only my sister and me, and as the eldest, she got to choose between finding an appropriate husband to take over Featherwick’s minor “throne” or looking abroad. Once she chose, it fell to me to fulfill the rest. When it became apparent that Hapstorn was the strongest choice, someone my father’s cousin couldn’t challenge, they decided for me. Your family is so far above our station, I never gave your struggles any thought. Indeed, I don’t think anyone in Featherwick did.” I glanced away, my eyes stinging. This level of candidness brought extreme discomfort; I had only ever expressed myself truthfully to Sofia, my dear sister, who was gone forever now that she’d married her faraway prince.

  Plus, the level of vulnerability did not sit well with me. The last thing I wanted was for Johan to feel trapped like I had, especially now as I saw more of his strong character. “It’s unbelievably kind of you to allow this to continue up to now,” I rushed to add. “But please don’t feel you need to move forward. I will find a way—”

  Johan took my hand in his, his touch silencing me as he smoothed over my fingers with his own. “I have no doubt of that,” he said with a smile. “It’s obvious that you are quite capable of making your own happiness.” Then his smile faded. “I have known since a very young age that my parents—especially my mother—expected me to marry a certain type of woman. A princess, of course, and a perfectly real princess beyond that. When I was a child, I considered running away, as well.”

  I couldn’t hold back a breath of surprise, and Johan’s full lips quirked into a smile. My own responded, as if compelled, and his scrutiny dropped to my mouth for a long second.

  When his thick eyelashes rose, the heat in my cheeks followed. I slid my hand out of his, suddenly self-conscious. His smile grew, and he continued. “Months ago, my mother insisted I travel throughout the world, visiting all royal families of our status, seeking this perfectly real princess to be my bride. I did travel, but I had no intention of actually choosing a stranger to live with me. Instead, I found some flaw with every female I met, learning quickly to discern aspects that my mother would understand. When I returned, she despaired of me ever finding the flawless princess I so desperately sought.” He grinned now, and I clearly heard the sarcasm in his voice.

  “And then you appeared. Your bedraggled appearance couldn’t hide the spark of your forceful personality. I insisted to my mother that you—and you alone—would be my bride.” He laughed, a mixture of actual amusement and some chagrin. “Little did I know that you were a true princess. I assumed you were a beggar girl. Even though you claimed more, it never occurred to me you were telling the truth.

  “My mother, of course, decided to test you—and somehow, you passed the test! Yes, I realize you are a princess, minor or not, but I can’t imagine how you felt a tiny pea under all those mattresses—”

  I couldn’t hold back my laughter any longer. I laughed till tears trickled down my cheeks. When I could speak, I said, “I rarely sleep well. I have insomnia. The ludicrous number of mattresses on that bed made me wonder if there was some kind of strange tradition or even a jest in play. I shifted the mattresses, and I discovered the pea beneath it all. Although I couldn’t ascertain the goal absolutely, I suspected I was being tested in some way.”

  Johan’s own laugh rang out, rich and full, and the look of delight on his face silenced me. For the first time since I’d left my own home—perhaps for the first time ever, notwithstanding Silvan—something stirred in me, fluttering in my stomach.

  “Oh, that is priceless!” Johan calmed himself down, shaking his head. “So you are a princess, but that seems a coincidence.” Suddenly, he sobered, frowning darkly. “Why would you agree to marry me? You know nothing about me, and I could be just as unpalatable as the count.” The stiffness in his carriage indicated I needed to explain my answer carefully.

  Slowly, I placed my hand over his fist, soothing the tension there with my fingertips. “Obviously, I cannot—even now—know you thoroughly. However, you’re closer to my own age, you have the warmest and kindest eyes I’ve ever seen, you allowed this to go on despite your beliefs regarding my status, you offered me your handkerchief and didn’t flinch when I wiped my nose on it, and, in all truth, I like looking at you.”

  The strain seeped from his shoulders, and he relaxed his hand, linking his fingers with my own. “I like looking at you too, though I suppose I should encourage you to put on some more clothes?” He winked, and I remembered how little I wore.

  “If your mother finds me with you like this, that will be that,” I said, truly worried this time. “I already said I wouldn’t marry you because of the orange—”

  Johan waved that final thought away and smiled. “As much as I’ve been enjoying the view, we should definitely spirit you away before she discovers you.” He pulled me up and, slipping off his tunic, placed it over my shoulders. “That’s a little better, I suppose.” He took my hand and again linked our fingers. “All right?”

  A tingle ran up my arm. “Yes.” We walked quickly across the lawn, and soon we were slipping through a side door tucked beneath a curtain of ivy.

  “My room is directly above,” he said as we rushed up a long flight of stone stairs. “Now you know how to sneak and find me,” he added, winking.

  “Of course, other than the fact that I have no idea where my room is from here,” I murmured.

  He laughed quietly. We came out in a corridor that looked like all the others I’d been in, but Johan pointed at the gilded door on our right. “My room.” Then he pointed down the hallway to a blue door at the far end. “Your room.”

  I couldn’t hold back a surprised gasp. “Your mother allowed us to be so close?”

  He grinned and pointed at a third door, a gold double door, in between the two. “My parents’ room.”

  “Ah.” That made more sense. “I
should go before she finds us.” I didn’t want to leave him, though. For the first time since I’d arrived—for the first time—I felt a sense of peace and promise. Johan was nothing like the count, and even if I had to wear orange, I could see being myself with him.

  He also seemed reluctant, and after a fast look around, he pulled me to him. “May I?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes,” I said. And then Johan was kissing me, his tongue dancing with mine with a confidence and hunger that surprised me. I twined my arms around his neck and returned the fervor. It wasn’t long, but I knew the color in my face matched his rosy cheeks when we separated.

  “I’ll see you at luncheon,” he said, lifting my hand and holding it to his lips. “My princess.”

  I blushed again, but when voices echoed down the hall, I quickly pulled away and ran to my door. After going in, I couldn’t resist a look back. Johan stood there, a slight smile on his face and a rich warmth in his eyes as he watched me. I closed my door when the voices got louder, then leaned my forehead against it.

  I couldn’t control the rules that governed my world, but for the first time, I realized that perhaps I could determine how I lived within those rules. I’d been running toward something, even though I hadn’t known it. Something within me—something fierce and promising and fresh—opened up, and for the first time in many years, I felt hope.

  I didn’t fool myself into thinking that I could ever be the absolute anything for anyone. However, Johan seemed to be open to possibilities, to change, to a world where princes and princesses formed a partnership. And that did seem . . . perfectly real.

  The Pied Piper’s Revenge

  by Scott Cowley

  “This is not a kidnapping, if anyone asks,” the piper shouted above the noise.