The Beggar Princess

by Lidiya Foxglove

  “I—I can’t. I simply can’t. None of them are what I want. I wish you had never summoned them. I could have told you from the start how it would go.”

  “You do realize that most girls don’t have a choice?”

  “Yes. But you…you’ve always told me I could have anything I wanted.”

  “With the assumption that someday, you would repay me with a family of your own, something to make me proud! Not—” He cut off. He didn’t reveal my secret to the assembled men. But it burned in his eyes, and I looked away.

  How dare he. He had always given me freedom, and now he wanted to snatch it away.

  Father turned to the hall. “She has made her choice. You may go, with my best wishes and sincerest apologies.”

  They filed out in a grand fashion, heads held high. Ithrin was graceful as always, his silvery hair striking among the darker shades of the humans. Brennus walked briskly, like he had somewhere to be, nudging past Prince Adam in his haste. I watched them with the sinking feeling that there was no good choice. None of them were quite right. But perhaps I should have—

  “You will marry the very next man who walks in that door.” Father’s voice rang in my ears like a tolling bell.

  “What?” I could not have heard him right.

  “Yes,” he said. “I don’t care if he’s an emperor or a pig farmer. You shall marry him.”

  “Why?”

  “Princesses must marry. Kingdoms depend on such things. It is the only thing I have ever asked of you, and I went to great trouble and expense to make sure you had more choices than any princess has ever been offered. And what did you do? Insult them to a man. You have no respect for me, or your station, or anyone else. It’s my fault. You are so precious to me. But I must remedy my mistake now.”

  “A pig farmer?” I laughed, although I was shaking a little. “All right. I understand. I do. I will—I will consent to marry Prince Ithrin.”

  “Oh, no,” he said. “Prince Ithrin is gone. It’s too late for that.”

  “He’s just gone out the door. I never insulted him like I did the others. I—I do like him—”

  “A high elf is not going to want a girl who has made such a mockery of the entire proceeding!” He pointed at the thrones at the far end of the room. One was his, upholstered in red, and one was my mother’s, upholstered in blue. It had long been vacant, since her death in my infancy, but its presence was a reminder of her. I used to sit in it when I was a child and pretend to be a queen. When he drew my attention to it, shame passed over me like a chill. What would Mother say to me, if she had lived?

  “Sit on the steps,” he said. “And wait for a visitor.”

  I walked toward the raised platform where a carpet led the way to the thrones. “I don’t want to sit.”

  We squared off silently for a moment. I wasn’t afraid. I knew he wouldn’t really marry me to a pig farmer.

  “Is writing these books really so important to you, that you’d rather have them than a court and family of your own?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lady Whittenstone…aren’t those the ones with the ghosts?”

  “The most recent one had a ghost…and the first one. I—I try not to repeat things in every book.”

  “Four of them now, aren’t there?”

  “Four, yes. A fifth on the way.” I never talked about this with anyone, much less my beloved father. Despite it all, it was a relief to finally admit what I’d been up to. “And people love my books, Father. You’ve seen everyone at court reading them. I never meant for anyone to know it was me, but I am never so happy as when I’m writing.”

  I hoped he would ask me more questions, but he merely rested his chin in his hand and paced a few steps.

  An elven man appeared at the entrance to the hall, between the two grand doors. It was the time of day when my father usually received his subjects, although I thought he had called that off for today.

  This man was as bedraggled as any man I’d ever seen. He was wearing a loose linen shirt with a few holes in it, and patched brown trousers. No hat or jacket or cloak, and only his boots had any life to them. He was a Mardoonish man, and reminded me of King Brennus, but then, all red headed elves look alike as brothers. This man was clean shaven, with his hair cut short, like a tougher, much poorer variation of the king. I wondered why the guards had even shown him in. Father wanted the best for all his people, but we couldn’t have beggars marching right up to the throne.

  The man approached the throne and got down on one knee. “Your majesty,” he said. “I thank you most gratefully for receiving me. I was robbed by a highwayman on the King’s Road while trying to make my way back home. Now I have naught but the clothes on my back.”

  Father took his seat in the throne, perching on the edge as he often did. “A highwayman on my roads, you say?”

  “Aye, my lord. Quite a vicious specimen, as well. Must’ve been nigh on seven feet tall.”

  Father nodded at one of his guards, who bowed and left. “And you need to borrow a horse to get home, do you?”

  “That would be beyond my expectation, my lord. I am an elf of Mardoon, and you a human king of Lainsland; I do not expect such generosity.”

  “What is your name, sir?”

  “Jack’ll do, my lord, if it’s a name you’re wanting. I’m just a humble craftsman.” Although ‘Jack’ had a gleam in his eye that was making me very nervous. Had he heard my father’s promise?

  “And are you married?”

  “No, indeed. I don’t have much to offer a lady as yet.”

  “Maybe a lady will have something to offer you. I would like to offer you my daughter’s hand, and a cart and pair of horses for a dowry, but I ask you for one thing in exchange.”

  I think an earthquake might have struck the palace at that moment and I would not have been more shaken. “Father, is this a joke?”

  “What did I promise you? The first man who walked in the door, didn’t I?”

  “You weren’t serious! You’re going to marry me to a beggar?”

  “I’m no beggar, milady. I make baskets for a living.”

  “Fine! Who do you want me to marry? I understand now. You have someone waiting in the wings, don’t you? Just—get it over with. Tell me who you have chosen for me.”

  Father looked at Jack. “Jack, will you hear my offer?”

  “Of course, your majesty.”

  “My daughter is the most spoiled girl in all the realm, and it is entirely my fault. I want her to learn humility. You understand?”

  “Oh, I do,” he said, in a strange voice, like he was not a common elf, but some wicked mage who would cast a curse on me.

  Maybe he was, for all I knew.

  “Father, you can’t! I can learn humility here, I promise, but this—this can’t be undone!”

  “I want you to marry Jack the basket maker, Bethany, and that is the end of the matter.”

  “Never. Never. I’m not going with him to Mardoon in a cart to make baskets! It’s a long ride from here; how will you know I’m not starving to death? How will you know the wolves haven’t eaten me?”

  “Come here, Jack. Come closer.”

  “Aye, your majesty.” He walked right up next to me with a brazen look of appreciation. “She’s quite fetching, isn’t she?”

  I shoved him away from me. “Don’t look at me!”

  “Do I need to have the guards tie you up first?” Father asked.

  I wiped furious tears from my eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

  “By the powers vested in me as the King of Lainsland, I dub thee, Jack, and thee, Princess Bethany Anne Lucinda of the House of Marthan, husband and wife.”

  Chapter Six

  Princess Bethany

  I had no idea what was going on, except that my dear father had completely betrayed me. I thought he loved me and now I knew that he hated me. And I must hate him in exchange, only that was difficult, so instead I just hated Jack.

  One minute I was a princess,
and the next minute I was sitting on a wooden plank bench in some peasant cart, leaving behind my novel in progress, my servants, every trinket and jewel I had ever owned, all my gowns except the new one that now seemed ridiculous. Jack twitched the reins, and we started moving. No one even said goodbye to me.

  I wanted to cry my eyes out, but we were traveling through my own kingdom, passing through the town. Before I left, one of the servants had brought my cloak, so I hid behind the hood, but the peasants still pointed at the finery of my dress. Beyond the town were the farms surrounding the castle, well-traveled by the local farmers and merchants, and I would not let any of my subjects see me cry. So instead I just sat up very straight and stared at the road, and avoided Jack’s eyes.

  “Must be a shock to you,” he said. “Wasn’t quite what I expected either.”

  “Wasn’t quite?”

  He shrugged and rummaged in his sack, pulling out a loaf of bread. “Are ye hungry, milady?”

  “I hate you.”

  “Well, that wasn’t what I asked, but suit yourself.” He pulled off a chunk. It smelled excellent, clearly baked that morning. And I was hungry. But I needed to remain strong.

  I had never, ever gone hungry, in my entire life. I had never been more than ten feet away from a servant, and that servant was always available to bring me anything I liked, day or night.

  Before long, I was clutching my growling stomach. I was so hungry I was about to tear the bread out of his hands. How did poor people ever go a day without eating? It was no wonder they stole things.

  Jack looked at me again. “You’d better take it while you can, because when we’re home, things will be different.”

  “Different?”

  He nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

  It sent a shiver down my spine.

  I was afraid to look into his eyes too closely, because I was afraid of what I might find. He didn’t seem like an ordinary peasant. Maybe it was the elven blood. They said that wood elves could whisper to trees and communicate with the beasts of the forest.

  But that didn’t seem like it. I felt more like he knew something about me that he wouldn’t say. Had my father hired him to trick me? Was this whole wedding a sham?

  I looked at his hands on the reins. Large hands. He probably weighed twice what I did, all strong bones and muscle. I felt like a bird captured by a lion.

  At least he didn’t smell.

  At least he wasn’t bad looking either. He wasn’t the sort of man I would have chosen for myself. No refinement. But it could be worse, couldn’t it?

  “What is your home like?” I asked.

  “It’s a cottage in the woods. I think you’ll like it.”

  “What makes you think I will like a cottage in the woods? I live in a castle.”

  “Doesn’t it get dull, though, always knowing what will happen every day? Having every piece of your life under your own control down to the last servant? Nothing’s under your own control now, milady.”

  I flushed as my stomach growled again. He put the bread in my hand. I tore off a piece and put it in my mouth, annoyed at my own weakness. It was the best thing I’d ever tasted, between the browned crust and the soft insides.

  “Tastes good, doesn’t it? Everything tastes better the longer you wait and the scarcer it is.”

  “Do you go hungry often?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “I’m a good hunter,” he said. “And not a bad gardener, either. You’ll see. I’ll teach you.”

  “To garden?”

  “Aye.”

  That sounded terrible. I was not meant for grubbing around in the dirt. He caught my look of distaste and merely chuckled.

  I hate him, I told myself again, gnawing at that damnably delicious bread.

  We were on the road for hours, the cart trundling along down a road that was mostly well-kept but sometimes very lonely and heavily forested. The trees made me nervous. Things could lurk under their cover.

  “What about the highwaymen?” I asked him.

  “They were down south,” he said dismissively. “Between here and Mardoon, the only thing we’ll have to worry about is the wolvenfolk.”

  “The…wolvenfolk? You mean the werewolves?”

  “Don’t call them that up here, milady. They take offense, and we don’t want that.”

  “Of course. I know,” I lied.

  “I’m on good terms with the clans, but the real trouble comes when one of them splits off. They don’t follow treaties anymore, when they’re alone. They’ll have a man for dinner, then. But—” He saw my expression, and hastened to add, “I haven’t had any trouble with them in a long time, lass. And I’m confident that I can kill a wolf.”

  “You don’t even have any weapons on you. I should have asked my father for—” I hadn’t been thinking of that in all my other distress, but it occurred to me that I had never been without guards.

  He lifted the hem of his shirt, showing me a knife strapped to his waist, and a flash of his lean stomach as well.

  “Like a knife will do much good against a wolf,” I said.

  “Hopefully we won’t find out.” He whistled a tune. “We’ll be coming into Mardoon before long. ‘I’ve seen great temples, I’ve seen palaces of gold, but only on the soil of Mardoon does a lucky man grow old.’ You’ve never set foot, have you?”

  “No. I have never left my own kingdom.”

  “Why not? Your father’s been to see the king, back in King Owen’s time. You were a little girl, I suppose.”

  “I have never liked to travel. I’m a lady so I have to ride in the carriage, and the windows are too small, and it’s always either too hot or too cold, and then at the end of the day, we arrive at some other noble house that is just like our own, except with simpering hosts who are nervous or annoyed or overly pleased about entertaining their king. I’ve only visited other parts of our own kingdom, but I’m sure it would be even worse to visit other courts, with their own rules and gossips—”

  “Their own feasts, their own dances, and their own fashions, too, eh? Dear gods, what an awful existence. No wonder you stay home.”

  He was being sarcastic. My mouth tightened. “I like my own home, that’s all.”

  “What about this? You’re not in a carriage, and I can assure you, you won’t have any simpering hosts. This is an adventure, milady.”

  “This is an embarrassment.”

  “Embarrassment can be very pleasurable in the right circumstance.”

  I was spared from considering that comment too deeply, as we had come to the crest of a hill and ahead I saw the distant spires of a beautiful city and a palace made of pale stone with three shining towers, built along a bay that cut deep into the land from the sea and turned into a silvery river that twisted off into thick forests. The bay was full of the tall ships that Mardoon had grown famous for in recent years, because the forest of the wood elves grew faster than any other forest, as long as they respected the magic that fed the forest growth. They had a steady supply of strong lumber and tall masts.

  “That city,” I breathed. “I hadn’t realized we were so close to the sea. That isn’t Mardoon, is it?”

  But I already knew it was. I had heard of this place: Arindora, the City Between Forest and Sea. I had never known it would be this beautiful.

  “Aye, King Brennus’ city,” Jack said.

  I pulled my eyes away from the city, to the west. The forest, which stretched as far as the eye could see in that direction, smothering the soft hills in greenery. “But you live in the forest, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “Deep in the forest, milady. We will stop in the city for the night.”

  Soon, the road changed. There was a guard post at the border with wood elves dressed in green, and a bustling inn with the smell of woodsmoke and roasted meat in the air, and here the street was paved with stones. We didn’t have any road so nice in my kingdom.

  “We’re in Mardoon now?” I asked.

&nbs
p; “Aye, King Brennus’ road.”

  To think, that disheveled barbarian of a man had such good roads, and such a fine city. I was annoyed to consider it. I tried not to think about how stupid I was, and the life I might have had if I had just agreed to marry one of the royals my father had gathered for me. Well, if I could just endure…maybe I would get my reward. Father was tricking me. He would save me in the end. I wasn’t really married to this basket maker…was I?

  The city of Arindora was surrounded by a high wall, and inside, most buildings were built from wood and carved ornately. At the corners of roofs, wooden animals with horns and tusks surveyed the streets below. Here, too, the roads were mostly paved and had drainage ditches, and flowers were blooming everywhere I turned, even though it was autumn. The castle rose up behind the city, the towers mocking me. I could have been a queen, heading to such a castle, and instead Jack brought me to a traveler’s inn.

  A beggar woman accosted us when we approached the entrance. I drew back when I saw her; skin and bones with ragged clothes and dirty hands and face. Even as she saw me trying to avoid her, she grabbed my sleeve. “Please, good lady, spare a coin? I’m so hungry. I need food to bring back to my children.”

  I had never seen a beggar before. I feared she might have a disease. I was so alarmed that all I could do was shriek and swat her back. “Get away from me!”

  Jack put himself between us, and he gave her a coin. She scurried off without another word, like a rat snatching up food from the street. His eyes whipped back to me, and although he didn’t say anything, I felt suddenly ashamed, as if I should have been more kind.

  I didn’t like that feeling at all. No one ever made me feel ashamed. “You can’t save every beggar,” I said, as much to myself as to him.

  “Aye, but every beggar is a citizen that King Brennus has failed,” he said, glancing at those towers. “Sometimes I wonder if the wood elves should have ever joined civilization, although it’s made us rich.”

  “You used to live in hunting tribes?” I asked, recalling my history.