The King's Treasure

by Carol M. Vaughn

  :You worry too much. It’s not like you won’t have help, after all.:

  Arianwyn blinked in surprise. :You’ll help?:

  :Of course. I will listen to the lessons along with you and assist you in remembering what you need when you need it. That is part of our Bonding. We are a partnership and help each other in more ways than mere physical safety.:

  :Thank you.: Arianwyn felt slightly better after that conversation.

  She did not have long to feel good, however. A knock sounded at the door. Remembering her lesson from earlier, she straightened her back and took a deep breath. “Who is it?”

  “The palace tailor and seamstresses have arrived.”

  “Send them in.” It was awkward giving the order. But she did not want Tess to get after her again. Neither did she want to be trapped. She had escaped from too many situations to allow this one to stop her.

  Edmund opened the door and five women entered, followed by a man. He was clearly in charge. He pulled out a roll of parchment and took a charcoal stick from the small pouch at his side. “Good, good. Let’s get her measurements, choose some colors, and find out for what occasions she will most immediately need a dress. Lady? What is the next occasion when you will speak with His Majesty?”

  “I don’t know,” Arianwyn answered honestly. “Perhaps when he chooses his bride?”

  “Hmmmm…” He jotted a short note on the parchment and looked up, frowning. “What are you waiting for? You need to strip so that appropriate measurements can be taken. Quickly, lady!”

  “But…but…” Arianwyn felt her cheeks begin to burn. She would not strip in front of him.

  He sighed. “Really? You’re going to be this way?” He shook his head and turned his back, arms crossed and toes tapping. “I’m waiting!”

  Arianwyn stared and realized this was the best she was going to get. She swallowed, glanced at the other women, and began to undress. As soon as she was finished, the women started measuring everything. Arms, legs, waist, neck, chest…there was no part left unmeasured. She gritted her teeth and stared straight ahead.

  The man walked over to the bolts of cloth they had brought along. “Let’s see…green, yes…pink, no…blue, black, white…hmmm…” He held up one bolt after another, sorting them into a keep pile and a discard pile. “It’s really too bad about your hair,” he muttered.

  Arianwyn blinked. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

  “That ghastly color! You may as well hang a sign around your neck, advertising yourself,” he answered in a conversational tone.

  Arianwyn blushed again, her hands unconsciously going to her hair. The women grabbed her arms back down and pulled them straight to continue measuring. “What do you mean? It’s just a hair color.”

  “Maybe we could have it dyed,” he said thoughtfully.

  Arianwyn felt Dragon rumble in the back of her head. :I like the color of your hair. It reminds me of fire,: Dragon said. “What’s wrong with my hair?” Arianwyn repeated.

  “My dear, it’s the color of harlots! Women with that hair color are notorious for being promiscuous. It will certainly cause a problem if the king decides to choose you.”

  Arianwyn straightened her back slightly. “I assure you, sir, that is not my personality.” She felt sick, thinking of the places she had to run from and wondering if it was her hair that had caused it. Her flaming cheeks drained of color. She closed her eyes, trembling at the memories. Was it that simple of an explanation? Would she still be living in her mountain village if she had had a different hair color?

  “Of course, I’m certain you’re a paean of virtuosity,” he chuckled. He was about to continue extolling Arianwyn’s lifestyle when one of the women cut in.

  “That’s enough, Jed! Young lady, you may change back into your clothes. Jed, it is clear she is not that kind of woman, now leave her alone!” Arianwyn scrambled back into her clothes, shame coiling around in her stomach.

  Jed turned and saw the look on Arianwyn’s face. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and brought several bolts of silk over. “Yes, well, obviously. Let’s just see how these colors look, shall we?” They finished their work in relative silence, bowed, and left Arianwyn alone.

  All those years, all that fear, because of her hair? She could hardly believe it, that such a silly belief had ruined most of her life. The shame left almost as quickly as it came, leaving her feeling angry now. Her hands shook. It was so unfair! She took a deep breath. :It is the past,: Dragon murmured. :I would not let it bother you anymore. You never thought of your hair as a defining characteristic, why will you start now?:

  :If I’d thought of it sooner, I’d have colored my hair!:

  Dragon snorted. :Your hair color did not force the men from your village into action. They acted alone.:

  Arianwyn blinked. Dragon was right. She could not allow this revelation to change anything. The knowledge might help in the future; but for now, all she could do was continue to live as she believed right. She took another deep breath and straightened up, squaring her shoulders for whatever else lay ahead.

  11-Rags

  Arianwyn did not have much time to breathe that day. After the tailor there were the tutors, a seemingly endless line of tutors. Tess sent tutors for reading and writing, history, dancing, court etiquette, mathematics, art…by the end of the day, Arianwyn was convinced there was too much knowledge in the world. A ridiculous amount. Her final visitor banished most of her exhaustion however.

  The last tutor had just left and Arianwyn collapsed into the chair, elbows on knees, head in hands. She had an awful headache. There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” she groaned.

  The door opened and Arianwyn looked up to see what new torturer Tess had sent. It was the king. She popped to her feet, eyes wide and dropped into a curtsy. “You may rise,” he muttered. She stood up and watched him from the corners of her eyes. She was painfully aware that she was still dressed in the rags and filth from the dungeon. He walked into the room and stood in front of one of the murals, studying it silently for a moment. “Have the tailors returned?”

  “No, Your Majesty. They were just here this morning.”

  He glanced at her. “So?”

  “I imagine it will be some time before they can make anything.” She felt embarrassed pointing that out. Surely his Majesty knew how long clothes took to make?

  He chuckled softly and turned back to the mural. “They were told to have some nightclothes and at least one dress appropriate for a lady done by this evening. They have worked on nothing else today.”

  “Oh.” It felt so inadequate to say. She continued to watch him study the mural. He seemed content to ignore her. Time stretched out uncomfortably for her. She glanced around the room, her gaze drawn again to the king. With his back turned, she was able to examine him without interruption or embarrassment.

  His tunic stretched tightly across his shoulders, unnecessarily overemphasizing their breadth. He was much taller than she was, the top of her head just coming to his chest. He stood with hands clasped behind his back, relaxed. She noticed that his hands, instead of being soft like most noblemen, were callused. A sword hung at his side, one that appeared heavy and for actual use, not just decorative. A second knock made her jump, although she was relieved at the interruption. “Come in,” she said, hoping it was an emergency that would draw the king away.

  The tailor entered, a servant behind him holding several garments. He bowed deeply to the king. “Your Majesty.” King Rael turned finally. “The clothing you ordered. We should be able to finish a few more dresses tomorrow.” The servant held up the clothing one at a time for the king’s inspection. Arianwyn blushed as they showed him her nightclothes. She gasped at the sight of the gown they had made for tomorrow.

  It was made of a dark green silk. The bodice would hug her body tightly once the ties were done up in the back. The sleeves were long and fitted, flaring slightly at the wrists. Tiny blue and white flowers were embroidered around the scooped neckl
ine and at the wrists of the sleeves. The skirt was long and full with more flowers around the hemline and crawling up the skirt. Matching green slippers were presented with the dress.

  King Rael nodded. “Well done, Master Jed. You have once again lived up to your reputation.”

  The tailor bowed again, smiling. “And would you have me make a wedding gown as well, Sire?”

  The king laughed as Arianwyn blushed. “I will let you know what size to make it when I have decided what bride to marry.” He waved Jed away and the tailor bowed and backed out. The servant placed the clothing in a dresser, curtsied and left.

  King Rael turned to face her then. “You have a lot to learn.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  He walked towards her, circling her and sizing her up. Arianwyn clasped her hands together and stared at them. “You met with your tutors today?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “And?”

  “Sire?”

  “Well, what did you learn?” he asked impatiently.

  Arianwyn blinked. She waited until he was facing her again before deciding if he was serious or not, then gave him a recitation of what she had learned. She sent a mental thank you to Dragon for nudging her memory at different points of the recitation. He grunted when she finished, arms folded as he scowled at her. “You will lunch with me tomorrow. Sigurd and Wymond will escort you there. Be certain you are ready and on time.” He turned and walked out, not bothering to wait for her to curtsy.

  Arianwyn walked over to the dresser, running her hands over the soft material and chewed on her lip. If there was a way out of here, she would take it now. Dragon muttered softly in the back of her mind. Something about her being ungrateful for the opportunities Dragon had afforded her.

  She jumped slightly at a knock on the door again. “Enter,” she sighed, shoulders slumping. She was really starting to get tired of all these people coming and going. Would they ever leave her alone? Lady Ethelinda walked in. Arianwyn stared in surprise, her breath catching in her throat, and quickly curtsied. “Lady Ethelinda! How may I help you?”

  Just as King Rael, Lady Ethelinda walked in and slowly surveyed her, eyes narrowed. She walked a circle around her, her lip pulling up slightly. “You don’t look dragon Bonded to me,” she sneered.

  Arianwyn flushed and showed the markings on her hands. “Well, I am. It was an accident, really, lady.”

  Lady Ethelinda sniffed and stopped walking, looking Arianwyn over again. “Of course it was. A dragon would never choose to Bond someone so…common.” Arianwyn gritted her teeth as Dragon snarled silently in the back of her head. “Well, here you are. But, apparently the king is still debating who to marry.” Lady Ethelinda leaned in close to her. “Stay away from him,” she hissed. “I will be the next queen. And if you do as I have ordered, I might allow you to continue to live…in the palace.” She left the room without another word.

  Arianwyn stood, shocked. What mad world had she entered? She chewed on her lip again, walking back toward the wardrobe. She sighed, wondering if Dragon was right about her being ungrateful, wondering about the strange visit from the king, and worrying about Lady Ethelinda. How could she stay away from the king when he had ordered her to dine with him tomorrow? She stared at the clean clothing and looked down at herself. She shook her head. She would not sully these clothes tonight. She stared at the bed, again noting the clean sheets. With a sigh, she pulled off a blanket. She chose a rug to curl up on and tossed and turned until she fell into a fitful sleep.

  12-The Nobility

  Arianwyn was up early. As a servant, she was accustomed to arising early and beginning the day before any of the nobility had even begun to stir. She stoked the fire in her fireplace and then she washed her face in a small basin. She warily examined the dress that had been brought to her last night. It was beautiful and she was afraid to touch it, much less wear it. She noticed the dirt under her fingernails and wrinkled her nose. She was still filthy from her time in the dungeons. She returned to the basin and gave herself a quick sponge bath, scrubbing furiously at the dirt. She returned to the dress, eyeing it warily.

  Dragon informed her that she was being ridiculous, so she finally pulled the dress carefully over her head. She reached behind her back, intending to tie the ribbons that would lace her into the dress. She struggled for several minutes before stamping her foot in defeat. It would be impossible to tie the dress without someone to help her. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, hoping someone would show up soon to help. She did not have to wait long.

  The door opened quietly and a young serving girl walked in. She stopped, wide-eyed at the sight of Arianwyn already out of bed. “Willow, will you help me?” Arianwyn turned to show the ties.

  “I can’t believe it’s true,” Willow whispered. “You really are a princess!”

  “No, I’m not a princess.” Willow expertly cinched the dress snug and stepped back. Willow gestured towards the mirror, her eyes shining in amazement. Arianwyn turned reluctantly to look in the mirror. The dress fit perfectly. She felt like a pig dressed for a ball.

  “I’ll go get Marie to do your hair,” Willow said, eyes wide. She half ran out of the room, grinning in excitement.

  “No, wait…” Willow had already slipped out, closing the door behind her. Arianwyn chewed her bottom lip. She was not ready for this. She looked around the room, hoping to see some way to escape. There was only the door, currently guarded by Edmund and Halvard.

  Arianwyn approached the door, determined, and pulled it open. Sigurd and Wymond had just arrived. All four looked at her, surprised. She felt her resolve vanish like smoke. “Um, good morning…” They continued to stare, waiting. She slammed the door shut again. Her hands were shaking. She paced the room. How could she escape? She ran through her options, considering her escapes from previous captors. A glance around the room showed nowhere to run or jump.

  A quick knock on the door sounded. Before Arianwyn could say anything, Marie was allowed into the room. She set a burning candle on one of the tables and rushed over to Arianwyn. “Oh, Arianwyn, this is so exciting! Just like a story,” she gushed. “Now, sit down and let me do your hair. I know just how to do it!”

  Arianwyn sat obediently on a stool, determinedly not looking in the mirror. She was afraid she wouldn’t recognize the person looking back. She closed her eyes tight and tried to focus on Marie’s babbling. Marie brushed her hair, put it up, took it down, braided it, unbraided it, and twisted it, searching for the perfect hair-do. Arianwyn wished she could just put it in a single braid down her back and ignore it. “I thought you already knew ‘just how to do it,’” Arianwyn growled. Marie laughed and hushed her.

  Marie finally decided to twist her hair away from her face, joining in the back in a thick pony tail. She then chose several pieces to braid into an intricate flower at the top of the pony tail, letting the rest fall down Arianwyn’s back. “There! Have a look and tell me what you think. And then we’ll get started with some make-up!”

  “Oh no!” cried Arianwyn. She jumped to her feet. “I appreciate what you’ve done, Marie, but I don’t think I can handle that just yet. I’m not nearly as excited about this as everyone else seems to be.” Marie looked taken aback, but curtsied and backed off obediently. Arianwyn flushed, recognizing her behavior in Marie’s reaction. “I’m so sorry, Marie…” she trailed off as Marie shook her head.

  “Lady Arianwyn, you have every right to speak to me that way. Honestly, you could do with some practice in chastisement,” Marie giggled. She paused and then added in a whisper, “And you should remember that you have every right to speak that way to the other nobility now as well.” She curtsied to her again and gestured to the candle. “The hash marks on the candle mark the hour. His Majesty is expecting you at the sixth mark.”

  A new knock sounded at the door. Arianwyn sighed when one of her tutors entered. Marie curtsied again, leaving Arianwyn to learn the different curtsies expected for each rank and when s
he could approach other nobility.

  A few hours later, a new tutor arrived. He instructed her on dining with the king, focusing in particular on lunch. Arianwyn had another headache, but paid close attention, not wanting to stand out. A soft knock on the door interrupted the lesson. Sigurd poked his head in and glanced meaningfully at the candle.

  Arianwyn turned to look, gasped, and jumped to her feet. The sixth mark was near. She straightened her skirts, glanced in the mirror to check her hair, wincing at the stranger who winced back, and turned to follow Sigurd and Wymond.

  They led her through the different levels of the Keep, Wymond in front and Sigurd following. They eventually arrived in one of the outer wall dining rooms. “This is the room where His Majesty usually lunches,” Wymond murmured. Arianwyn looked at him in surprise.

  “How do you know?”

  Arianwyn thought she saw the faintest smile cross his face, but it was gone before she could be certain. “We were his body guards before he assigned us to you, lady.” Arianwyn nodded gratefully. She made a mental note to ask her body guards for information more often. She entered the room, her stomach twisting in knots.

  Sunlight streamed through the floor to ceiling windows, both lighting and warming the room. Brightly colored tapestries depicting hunting scenes decorated the wall opposite. A long table was placed down the center of the hall, a lace tablecloth spread over it with delicate porcelain plates, crystal glasses, and silver eating utensils at every seat. The king’s chair was clearly at the head of the table, although he had not arrived yet. The other nobility were standing patiently behind their chairs, chatting amiably with those around them.

  Arianwyn hurried to the only empty seat, set farthest from the king, avoiding the gaze of the other nobility. A slight lull in conversation indicated they had noticed her presence. She stared at her plate, struggling to control her nerves.

  Everyone fell silent at once. When they bowed and curtsied, Arianwyn was quick to follow suit. The herald announced the king’s arrival at the same time as everyone bowed. Arianwyn risked a glance towards the head of the table. King Rael arrived at his seat, flanked by two of his guards and sat. “Please, be seated.”