Violet Eyes

by Debbie Viguié

  “I love you,” he whispered, and her heart mended. “I can’t believe how much you’re putting up with for me.”

  “So are the others.”

  “No, they’re doing it for their parents or for their kingdoms and the alliance they hope to forge. But you, you’re doing this just for me. Why?”

  “I love you too,” she answered. “I don’t care who knows it or what I have to do to prove it.”

  “You have proved it a hundred times over. It’s I who should be proving my love to you,” he breathed.

  “And how would you prove this love?” she asked.

  “I would do anything for you. I would swim across an ocean to find you. I would walk through fire to be with you. I would sacrifice my life for your happiness.”

  “I think I’d settle for another kiss,” she said.

  “You shall have all you could ever want,” he said, before kissing her again.

  When he pulled away again, he said, “You’re shivering.”

  “Because of you.”

  Richard smiled gently. “I wish that were true. I’m afraid the cold and the water have more to do with it than I do. You should go inside and change.”

  “I don’t want this moment to end,” Violet said, a sudden fear gripping her heart. “What if it’s our last?”

  “Dearest Violet, it is only our first.”

  “Promise me.”

  “I promise you. Whatever it takes, whatever I must do, we will be together, always.”

  He helped her out of the fountain and she pulled on her shoes. When she turned to look at him, he was smiling.

  “What?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “I can’t tell you. You’ll just have to be patient.”

  “I’m tired of waiting … for everything,” she confessed.

  “Trust me, it will be worth it.”

  She glanced toward the castle, the polished stone glistening in the noonday sun. It was still so strange to be living there, even if it was only for a few days. “There’s so much I don’t know,” she admitted.

  “About what?” he asked.

  “About everything. Life, you, being a lady. I don’t know how I am supposed to eat or talk or be a princess.”

  “Violet, you don’t have to try to be like a princess; you are a princess.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Violet asked him. She was shaking harder now, but it wasn’t from the cold and the wet. Violet loved Richard; she wanted to be with him. But she wondered if he would regret being with someone like her, even if she did win his parents’ bizarre competition. What if he would be better off with someone like Goldie? The two could really help each other, could probably learn to love each other. Violet felt tears begin to streak her cheeks. She wiped them away angrily. She had never cried as much in her life as she had in the past few days.

  “The princess of Cambria vanished during the attack,” he said, eyes burning brightly.

  “Really?” she asked, heart beginning to pound. Maybe it really was true. Maybe she really was a princess. A moment later doubt washed over her.

  “How do you know that the child even lived, or that I’m her?”

  Violet looked to him to somehow explain, to make it right. Instead she saw doubt flicker across his face as well.

  “What is it?” she asked, fear tugging at her.

  Prince Richard bit his lip. “She could have been killed. Or she could be you.”

  “Or?” she asked, sensing there was something else.

  “Or she could have been kidnapped and raised in Lore.”

  Celeste. Celeste could actually be the true princess of Cambria, raised by Lorian enemies and ignorant of her birth. Violet’s knees gave way, and she collapsed onto the ground. It was so terrible it might even be true. And if it was, the only way Richard’s parents could secure the throne would be by ensuring he married Celeste. Maybe the tests were so strange because they knew Celeste was the rightful princess of Cambria and they had to make sure that Celeste passed every one.

  Richard knelt beside Violet.

  “I could not bear it if you married her,” Violet admitted. Staring at him, though, she knew it was inevitable. Either Celeste was the true princess of the kingdom and Richard would have to marry her, or Celeste was the daughter of Cambria’s greatest possible enemy, and to keep the peace Richard would have to marry her.

  “But that’s what’s going to happen,” she continued. “I have to go. I can’t stay here and watch.”

  Prince Richard grabbed Violet’s shoulders and shook her, panic edging into his voice. “Violet, don’t you give up on me! You’ve come so far; you can’t quit now. I love you, and I will do whatever it takes to be with you. You’re the one who refused to run away with me earlier; don’t run away from me now.”

  “But your parents—”

  “My parents are playing some game. I don’t know what it is. What I do know is that you’re one of the few still standing. We have to trust that that means something.”

  “But Celeste—”

  “Nothing is going to come between us, do you understand me?”

  Violet nodded her head slowly, his intensity overwhelming and strengthening her. Prince Richard helped Violet to her feet and she leaned against him for a moment. “I’ve never felt so helpless,” she said.

  He smiled. “And you thought you weren’t a princess.”

  While he was trying to make her laugh, Violet just couldn’t get there. She shook herself slightly and then stood up straight. “I can walk by myself.”

  “Are you sure?” Richard asked doubtfully.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you better get inside quick; you’re getting a chill.”

  She nodded and hurried back toward the warmth and safety of the room she shared with Genevieve. Richard was right—the wind that was blowing and the cold water had conspired to give her a chill.

  But deep in the back of her mind she knew it wasn’t cold, or love, that made her shiver.

  It was fear.

  Genevieve was content, sipping a hot beverage, curled up in a chair, listening to Arianna telling her stories of Aster, when Violet arrived back at their room.

  “You simply must come to visit me,” Arianna urged. “We could have wonderful adventures.”

  Genevieve smiled sadly. “My parents don’t approve of adventures.”

  “Then we won’t tell them we’re having adventures. You can come for my wedding.”

  “The werewolf?” Genevieve asked in surprise.

  “The son of a werewolf, well, former werewolf,” Arianna said with a sigh.

  Violet shed her wet dress and began changing into a pretty red one. “How can you be engaged already?” she asked, relieved to talk about something that didn’t involve Richard or Celeste.

  “Simple,” Arianna said. “My parents agreed that if I came home without a husband, I could marry David. It’s a good match, not as strong as one with Cambria would have been, but it is suitable nonetheless.”

  “Congratulations,” Violet said.

  “What’s wrong?” Genevieve asked. “Didn’t things go well with Richard?”

  Violet couldn’t hide her expression of surprise. It was uncanny how quickly Genevieve could pick up on her moods.

  “Richard was wonderful. But now here I am again, and all the uncertainty is back. I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” Violet admitted, not yet ready to say more.

  Genevieve crossed her arms. “As long as it takes.”

  “Would you like us to poison Celeste for real?” Arianna asked, a little too eagerly.

  “No,” Violet said. “But thanks for the offer. Are you two going to be leaving soon?” Violet asked, suddenly realizing just how much she would miss them both.

  “No, we plan to stay to see you win your prince,” Genevieve said.

  “And in case you decide to change your mind about poisoning Celeste,” Arianna
added with a glint in her eye.

  “Remind me never to eat anything you’ve prepared,” Violet said, her mood lightening.

  Arianna grinned. “You’re fairly safe. I’ve never made a meal. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  “You know, I’ve been trying to understand what these challenges are really testing,” Genevieve said. “I think I figured out the last one.”

  “It was testing who was stupid enough to risk getting seriously injured by continuing on?” Arianna asked.

  “No,” Genevieve grimaced, glancing quickly at Violet.

  “Sorry, Violet. I meant no offense to your intelligence. You’re in love, which explains all kinds of things,” Arianna said with a toss of her silvery hair.

  “Thank you, I think,” Violet said.

  “So, what was it testing?” Arianna asked more seriously.

  “I think it was significant that we were each allowed to choose whether or not to continue. It’s almost like our ability to persevere in the face of danger and difficulty was being observed.”

  “Then you and I failed,” Arianna said.

  “Would they test something like that?” Violet asked. It must be difficult to be a ruler, but she had no basis for comparison. Her parents, the people in her village, even she herself never had any choice but to persevere. If you didn’t persevere, you didn’t eat, you didn’t survive.

  Arianna looked at her curiously. “Is that really your question?”

  “Yes, I guess it is.”

  “Of course they would. Being a queen is hard work. You have to put the entire kingdom before yourself. You have to push yourself to work long and hard, making sure complaints are heard and resolved, keeping the peace, protecting against invasion, figuring out year after year how to protect, feed, and shelter your subjects. And when a queen has a bad day, she can’t just go to bed and pray for the next. She needs to work through her problems, face them at that moment. Lives are at stake with every decision, every breath. I’m sure Richard’s parents want to know that whoever they choose for their son will have the strength, the fortitude to be by his side. To keep going no matter what the cost, the personal risk—that is what we do.”

  Arianna paused, and Genevieve said quietly, “Look at Goldie. She knows her uncle is going to try to kill her so that he can be king. A normal person might run away, or let him have the throne. A ruler can’t run, and she can’t back down. She’s going to stay and fight for the good of her kingdom. In the end it might cost Goldie her life, but she knows that, and she perseveres anyway.”

  Tears began to stream down Violet’s cheeks. She couldn’t imagine being in Goldie’s position. No one would want to kill a farmer’s daughter. She had nothing someone else would covet so deeply.

  “How does she do it?” Violet asked.

  “She does it because she has to,” Goldie said from the doorway.

  Violet went and hugged her. Goldie hugged her back, tight.

  “I’m sorry, my hair’s still wet,” Violet realized at last, trying to pull away.

  “I don’t care,” Goldie said, hugging her tighter. Her shoulders began to shake, and Violet realized she was crying as well.

  “I promise I will do anything I can to help you,” Violet said. It wasn’t much, but it was all she had to give. In her heart Violet knew that a week’s time might find her back on her family’s farm, castles and gowns and princes a distant memory, like a dream of someone else’s life.

  The next morning Violet waited anxiously with Goldie, Celeste, Ruth, and Evaline in a small room in the castle. She had no idea what the challenge was to be. She had waited up half the night, but Duke had never come with a message for her.

  Finally, the queen entered, alone. “Good morning,” she greeted them.

  “Good morning,” Violet answered with the others.

  “One of the most priceless things a princess or a queen has is her beauty,” the queen began. “We are taught from a young age to guard this beauty jealously and to let nothing mar it.”

  Around her Violet saw heads nodding, and she fought back a sigh. Yet another princess rule that meant nothing to her.

  “We are told that we don’t expose our skin to the sun, because it will burn and it will age us prematurely. We are told that soft, white skin is beautiful and skin darkened by the sun is not.”

  Violet looked down at her own tanned hands and grimaced. She wasn’t sure what the queen was leading up to, but she was certain it was going to be another task that would be impossible for her to accomplish by normal means.

  “So here is the fifth test. You will each put your hand out one of these windows and leave it there for a quarter of an hour. We will then check to see which of you have burned skin.”

  Ruth and Goldie gasped, and Celeste groaned.

  “I can’t,” Evaline said through pursed lips.

  “But you must, or forfeit,” the queen said.

  Evaline shook her head. “I can’t. I won’t. I’m going home.”

  “Then go,” the queen said, standing aside to let Evaline pass.

  Violet stared after her. Was it really so much worse than everything that had gone before? She couldn’t believe it.

  “You may begin,” Queen Martha said.

  Each of them moved to a window and put her hand out into the bright sunlight. Fifteen minutes later the girls were allowed to pull their hands back inside. Then they followed the queen to another room, one without windows.

  “You may wait in here,” the queen said. “In an hour I will return to check your hands.”

  The queen left, and Violet took one of the chairs, staring glumly at her hand. Violet couldn’t sit still, though, and began to pace. Even in the dim candlelight Violet could see the sunburns on the other girls’ hands.

  How can I make my hand look burned when it’s not? she wondered. There was nothing in the room to stain it red or pink. Violet continued to pace, turning the notion over in her mind. Maybe I should stop worrying about the sunburn and focus on figuring out what the real test is.

  Violet thought of everything Genevieve had said about the tests behind the challenges. Yesterday had been about perseverance. From what the queen had said, a princess would consider it terrible to get a sunburn. Why? Because they think it mars their beauty. So, then, why allow it to happen? Because they want to win. And what are they proving?

  Violet had to win; she was so close to the end of the contest, and the memory of Richard’s lips on hers and their connection spurred her on. In the light of a new day she didn’t care who Celeste was or wasn’t. All she knew was that she loved Richard and she had to try. He had been so passionate when they kissed. What had Richard said about proving his love? Could the princesses risking their beauty prove something to the king and queen? Then, suddenly, something Richard had said came to her: I would sacrifice my life for your happiness.

  Violet stopped pacing. That was it! King Charles and Queen Martha wanted to know if the girls would sacrifice their beauty to win Richard. Sacrifice. That was what it all came down to. Rulers had to sacrifice their own desires. Violet glanced over at Goldie. Sometimes they had to sacrifice their own lives.

  If that was it, the other girls had already sacrificed; they had burned their hands for the test. But my hand isn’t burned. It couldn’t have sunburned with such little exposure to the sun. How can I prove that I am willing to make sacrifices to be with Richard? What else had Richard said? Violet gasped as she remembered: I would walk through fire to be with you.

  Violet knew what she had to do. She glanced around the room to make sure that no one was watching her. The other three were all preoccupied with watching the reddening of their skin and were paying her no mind.

  Violet walked over to a writing table where one of the few candles that illuminated the room sat. She put her back to the others so that they couldn’t see what she was doing. Violet gritted her teeth, then thrust her hand into the flame.

  The pain seared through her. Violet wanted to jerk her h
and away, but she forced herself to hold it for a moment. She finally pulled it out of the flame and stared down at the angry red of the skin. She collapsed onto a chair and tried not to whimper.

  The queen returned with the king, the steward, and Richard. They led the girls out of the dark room and to the great hall. There Celeste, Goldie, and Ruth presented their burned hands in turn. Finally, Violet presented her hand, which had begun to blister.

  “What have you done to yourself?” Richard exclaimed when he saw it. Violet gave him a tight smile. “Only what you would do for me.”

  “I’ll have someone come to your room to look at that,” the queen said, giving Violet a thoughtful look.

  “Thank you, Majesty.”

  “The four of you shall continue on to the final challenge,” the king said.

  Violet made it to her room before the tears came. Genevieve exclaimed in despair over her injured hand. “This was stupid; there had to have been something else you could have done,” Genevieve said.

  Violet shook her head. “I sacrificed. That’s what was required.”

  “Richard wouldn’t have wanted you to hurt yourself, though. Why did you leave your hand in the fire for so long?”

  “I had to be sure.”

  An older gentleman arrived and put a poultice on her hand, which quenched some of the heat. Once he had left, Genevieve glared at her.

  “You know the goal is to marry the prince, right?” Genevieve said.

  Violet was irritated. “Yes, what’s your point?”

  “You can’t marry him if you’re dead. Just promise me you won’t do something stupid tomorrow.”

  “I would like to promise that,” Violet said. She yawned. “All I can promise at the moment, though, is that I’m going to bed.”

  As she drifted off to sleep, however, she knew that Genevieve was right to be worried. The tests were becoming harder, and there was no telling what she’d have to do next.