“Please take,” I offered a roll to an age-stooped figure at the end of the alley. “Eat and be in good health.”
“It brings me extraordinary joy to know you haven’t lost your kindness,” the figure replied.
“Pardon, ma’am—” I began to say, unsure I had heard right when the figure straightened, tossing back her hood to reveal, “Grandmère!”
I threw my arms around her, clinging to her in the fear that she was a fantasy, a fleeting remnant of my past bound to be carried away on the winds of change. The captain rushed forward when he saw me hugging a strange, elderly lady, unsure of what exactly was going on.
“It’s all right, Cap,” I reassured him, wiping at tears I only realized then were falling, “this is Marie, my faery godmother.”
The captain gave Marie a small bow, and she smiled back knowingly. I never could figure out what was going on in that head of hers.
“I’ve missed you so much, Grandmère,” I half-admonished her. “Why have you never come to visit?”
Marie smiled sadly. “The palace isn’t for me,” she replied.
“Oh posh,” I echoed her objection from the long ago night that started this all. “It would be so marvelous if you would come.”
Marie took my hands to answer, but suddenly her face clouded in concern. “Ella, dear, have you been ill?” she asked, and the captain who was only half listening as he watched the alley, suddenly regained his singular eagle like focus for me.
“I just needed some time away,” I said airily, wondering how on earth she knew about those spots when the floor seemed to spin beneath my feet, when sudden bouts of nausea doubled me over crossing from one room to the next. I hadn’t told anyone about them, because those instances were always brief and far between, so I always forgot later. But they had happened, and somehow Marie was sensing them.
“Ella,” Marie began, but I didn’t want her to say anymore. Especially not with the captain right there.
“Really, Grandmère, you mustn’t worry,” I said quickly. “My life is so much better than I could have ever dreamed.”
Marie studied me intently, and soon I was feeling the warmth from her hands flowing throughout my body. I hadn’t had an incident in a while, but suddenly all of me felt better, and I knew that I had been carrying something ill inside me.
“Thank you,” I whispered, for her ears only.
Marie smiled, then something in her expression became vague and far away. “I must go now, Ella,” she began.
“Please don’t,” I begged. “Please stay with me.”
Marie stroked my cheek. “I’ll see you again, dear,” she promised. “And if you ever truly need me, call for me under your pear tree.”
That branch had been enchanted!
Marie pulled me into a quick hug before she secured her hood and trundled down the alley toward the marketplace. At the last moment, before she turned, she flicked her wrist, and I’m sure I saw the glint of a gold coin turning end over end in the air. Then she was gone, and she took some of my good cheer with her.
“Shall we turn back?” the captain asked kindly.
I nodded. “But not through the marketplace,” I said.
“As you wish,” he replied, and we turned down the nearest street in the general direction of the palace.
It was only a few streets before our route began pairing itself with the maps I had studied the night before. I quickly gained my bearings and confirmed I knew where we were when I correctly predicted the street we were coming upon. It was about that same time that the captain leaned into me and whispered, “Don’t speak, only nod. Do you have your dagger ready?”
I nodded, looking into his eyes to ask why.
“Two men are following us,” he explained. “Perhaps because they saw how ready we were to share.” His lips quirked upward, but I knew he didn’t say it unkindly. Besides, two men wouldn’t be much of a match for him. Still, avoidance would be best.
We were coming upon a piazza, and recognizing it from the map, I took the captain’s hand and urged him toward it.
“What—?”
“There’s a piazza up ahead with turns for five different streets,” I explained quickly. “If we’re fast enough, we can lose them there.”
The captain quickened his stride and I had to run to keep up with him. Entering the piazza, there were indeed five different ways before us, and we made a sharp right turn into the one closest, but also slightly behind us. I intended to follow the street to the end, but the captain pulled me back and into him as he immediately pressed himself into a doorway. I just barely reached his chest, which about left me with my ear pressed to it.
We held our breath as we waited silently for the telltale signs of following footsteps. They came soon enough, setting my pulse to pounding, though through the captain’s filthy shirt, I could hear his heart beat steady and true. That calmed me somewhat. We waited a while longer for the footsteps to recede, and I only knew it was safe to move on when I felt the captain’s body shift.
I glanced up to catch him looking down at me, and maybe it was a moment of madness, but in that instant, I saw the world in his brown, earthy eyes, illuminated like the sudden spark of a shooting star as it blinks over the earth.
I stepped back from him out of the doorway, telling myself I was shaking from the receding fear.
“Well, that was something,” I understated. “At least I’m still adept at eluding people, so I haven’t lost all my old skills.”
“Being friends with you, Princess, really wears the heart,” the captain replied with a grin.
There was so much more to what he was saying than his actual words. As with most other things, I didn’t know it then, and can only speculate now.
I answered him with an annoyed click of the tongue before turning away toward the piazza. Following the map in my mind, I chose the third path, knowing it was only a few more turns to the main road leading toward the bridge.
We were almost out of the last street when I suddenly turned on the captain. “Marie wasn’t keen on visiting at the palace,” I commented. “Why do you think that is?”
The captain didn’t respond at first but the way he pressed his lips together told me he knew the answer.
“Why?” I pressed.
The captain sighed. “You know the prince’s mother was the sister of Princess Lyla’s stepmother?”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“There are many who thought,” the captain continued, “though it hasn’t been proven, that our late queen used magic to win and keep the king’s heart.”
“Did she?” I barely whispered.
The captain gave me an indecipherable look. “It’s hasn’t been proven,” he repeated, “but she did have the king’s heart and ear completely. The king never refused his wife anything, even when he didn’t agree with her…even when it meant going back on his word. The prince despised his weakness and swore that no one and no magic would ever control him. Marie must know that he wouldn’t welcome her sincerely.”
I thought about that. I supposed it made sense, why the prince would be so reticent about magic. But—
“I didn’t use magic to win the prince’s heart,” I told him.
Again, that same inscrutable look. “I know,” the captain said.
“Does he?” I dared ask. “Be honest.”
The captain tried to fight my command, but he couldn’t in the end. “He really tries,” he finally admitted.
A moody silence fell between us as we came upon the promenade.
“These questions of yours—” the captain began with a shake of his head.
“I want to know,” I insisted, then thought for a moment. “If you want to know anything,” I stumbled for the right words to offer, “we are friends, after all, you can ask me whatever you wish.”
“Can I?” the captain asked with a grin that almost made me take back what I’d said. “All right, then, Ella,” he began, and his grin grew wider, “I wonder if I count to
ten and let you run first, would you still beat me to the bridge?”
“Captain!” I exclaimed.
“One, two—”
I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I grabbed my skirts and took off running as fast as my little legs could carry me. I knew he had only suggested the race to distract me, but I didn’t care. I wanted so much for the dream to be real that I was eager to push away any thought or feeling that might threaten it. I didn’t care that every moment I chose the illusion chipped away at my very self.
It was only a few long strides that put the captain in the lead, and I tried to keep up even though I knew I couldn’t. We must have looked like fools, choking on laughter as we raced toward the bridge.
It was a good trick to make sure the outing ended with a smile.
“Captain, I think it would be wise to stay in practice with my sword,” I said, after we caught our breath. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Is that an order or a request?” he teased.
“A request,” I replied. “Please.”
The captain tipped his head. “Any time, anywhere, Your Highness.”
“And I hope,” I pressed, “that if at times I trust you with some gold coins, you’ll know how to use them.”
The captain nodded silently.
“Thank you, Captain,” I said. I reached out and gave his hand a small squeeze. “Thank you for today.”
The captain simply bowed his head again.
We slipped back in the same way we’d entered, and when the captain returned me to Javotte, she almost flung herself at me.
“I was so worried, Your Highness,” she said, barely keeping back her tears.
“I was in competent hands,” I said with a nod that both thanked and dismissed the captain.
Javotte ushered me quickly into my rooms, where she stripped me down and burned the clothing I had worn.
“Did you know they call me CinderElla?” I asked as she hurried about, dumping buckets of hot water into my bath.
She paused only a moment to answer me. “I do, Your Highness.”
“Do you like it?” I asked.
“I do,” she replied, without hesitation.
She deposited me into the bath and insisted I stay there for at least half an hour to draw all the grime and dirt from the street out of my skin. That was well and good by me. So much had happened that day, though my mind and heart were well more exhausted than my body. Javotte came by to wash me twice, so I was almost glowing when she was done. Her recipe for freshness must have worked, because the prince followed me back to my chambers after dinner that night.
He poured me a glass of that blasted wine, which I tried to choke down slowly. I would’ve stopped drinking it by now, but he seemed pleased each time I finished the cup, and I wanted nothing more than to please him. I also wasn’t sure if he was mocking my lower class tastes, which made me more determined to drink the horrible stuff, or if he really was trying to refine my palette. Either way, I had learned to drink so it went straight down my throat, touching as little of my tongue as possible.
We sat close together as we drank, the prince tangling his fingers in my hair. It drove Javotte mad, and she’d mutter to herself as she teased those infernal knots out, but I never rebuked her for it. Frankly, I didn’t understand why the prince snarled my hair either, but it made him happy, so why stop him? I suspect now he probably didn’t even realize the trouble he caused.
“Alexander, dear?” I broke into his reverie.
“Yes, my love?”
“I was wondering, what do we do for the less fortunate in our city?”
The fingers stopped twisting. My prince gave me an expression that was better suited to something more ridiculous, say if I’d announced my intentions to dance with the court jesters.
“Still on that, darling?” he asked with a chuckle. “Why ever do you wonder about them so much?”
I shrugged. “I was one of them,” I dared remind him.
The prince stiffened. “Yes, well, not anymore.”
“Alexander,” I soothed, “it’s only the question came to me and I didn’t have an answer.”
The prince smiled and stood up, taking my cup from me, then taking my hand to pull me up toward him. I doubt he was really listening to me at that point.
“Really, love,” his breath warmed my skin, “you need no longer worry about such things.”
“Isn’t it my obligation as a princess to worry about my people?” I questioned.
“Your obligation,” he enunciated, letting his fingers wander in the most distracting of ways, “is to voice your concerns to those who can take care of these things for you.”
“I want to know that they’re taken care of,” I insisted, not yet responding to his advances.
The prince paused, realizing I was entirely serious. “What do you suggest? That we give them whatever they need? There’d be no end to the line of people wanting a handout. The money would run out before the people and what help would that be?”
He was right. Still, “There has to be something.”
“I already told you I’d take care of it,” he promised, probably just to end the conversation so he could regain my attentions. He lightly traced the outline of my jaw with his finger, his blue eyes intent on my every feature. My stomach wobbled, a shiver ran down my back. “I’m the luckiest prince that ever was,” he whispered.
I was still worried about the poor, gray shapes I’d seen huddled in the capital that day. I really was. And inwardly I insisted that I’d figure out a real solution. But when my prince held me in his arms and said those few little words, I couldn’t stop myself. I gave in completely.
A few days later, the captain was announced in my quarters, which he entered rather rapidly. His face seemed a little paler than usual, and I knew something was wrong when he gave an abrupt bow and began straightening even before I’d finished allowing him to.
“Captain,” I greeted him. “What worries you?”
The captain stood up, back straight, posture perfect. His eyes darted over the others in the room, before landing on my face to search mine.
“Come sit with me over here,” I said, leading him to a table in the corner of the room where we were less likely to be overheard.
The captain, as his job would expect, stayed overly cautious. “Your Highness, I don’t mean to disturb,” he said, “but I have some information you may have use for.”
“What about?” I inclined my head, openly curious.
“The matter spoken with the prince some nights ago,” the captain’s voice lowered, “it seems he relayed certain concerns to Sir Percival.”
Contrary to what the captain thought, I was delighted at this news. Why come in looking like the sky had fallen?
“Why the concern, Captain? I think it wonderful.”
The captain pursed his lips to keep whatever he was about to say in. He started to speak, looked around the room, then thought better of it.
“Perhaps Her Highness should speak to Sir Percival directly,” he suggested.
His whole behavior was too odd to dismiss his worry. “I shall go to him immediately,” I announced.
The captain nodded and excused himself from the room.
I followed close on his heels, as I really did intend to speak with Sir Percival straightaway. I came to his office and, scarcely had his valet announced me, then I swept into the room. There were some perks to being a princess that I enjoyed, after all.
The office was neat, spacious and, with all the windows open, fresh and airy. The walls were lined with overflowing bookshelves and the outline of the desk was made known by stacks of papers in varying heights. Sir Percival was barely out of his chair when I entered, his look more amused than confused at my unexpected appearance.
“Your Highness, welcome,” he bowed obediently. “Will you sit?”
“Thank you,” I replied, declining his offer. “I’ll only be a minute.”
“What brings you here, Princess?”
“It was recommended I come speak with you about the matter of the poor people in our capitol,” I said. “My husband spoke with you about it?”
A dark cloud passed quickly over Sir Percival’s face, but he did his best to hide it. “Yes, he did, Your Highness,” he murmured.
“And?” I pressed.
Sir Percival smiled apologetically. “Really, Your Highness,” he tried to deflect, “there is no cause for further worry over this.”
“I shall decide what I will or will not worry about,” I insisted. “Now, Sir Percival, it is my solemn duty to care for my people, and I will have my answer now, please,” I said in the most authoritative voice I could muster. Being so small, I had learned since coming to the palace that, without size, sometimes tone was everything.
Sir Percival looked away as if to decide, then faced me squarely. “His Highness suggested that we simply remove them from Camallea, because of the ‘undue stress’ they cause his wife,” he said flatly. “He worries it may ‘adversely affect’ her wellbeing.”
I scrunched my brow, forcing down a rising sense of indignation. “I’m sure I don’t understand what you mean.”
“His Highness,” Sir Percival repeated slowly, “would like for us to arrange transport to remove all poor from the city.”
“And where will they go?” I asked.
Sir Percival shrugged.
I frowned. “This doesn’t sound like an efficient solution.”
“It’s what I was commanded to do, Your Highness,” Sir Percival apologized, not seeming very thrilled with the idea himself.
“Then I must command you to wait,” I said, “or slow the process as much as possible. Surely, the prince will change his mind if we offer a more reasonable solution.”
“I’m not—” Sir Percival began, but I cut him off.
“There must be something,” I said, turning to leave. “If you can’t, then I’ll think of something.”
“I’m sure you will, Your Highness,” Sir Percival replied, but his tone suggested otherwise.
That night, I rolled out my maps and called for Javotte.
“Where exactly are you from?” I asked her.
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