by Anita Valle
Coralina nodded though she knew sour-faced peasants came by the cartload. Her knees teetered and she leaned against Luxley. She didn’t cry. She simply trembled in his arms.
“Who is he?” Luxley asked with a hostile eye on Kerrick.
Coralina had seen Kerrick out cold only once before. At age fifteen he had tried, at her insistence, to climb a Lumen tree and pick a piece of fruit for her. He fell from about twelve feet.
“He was my friend,” she said. “My good friend.”
Chapter 30
For seven days, Coralina remained in her chamber. She said nothing and ate little more. When Maelyn tried a maternal lecture, Coralina stared at the wall and didn’t hear a word.
It was too much. The loss of Gord, the loss of Kerrick. They had split her open and scraped out her soul. All that remained was her shell of skin, bleeding on the inside.
This was heartbreak. What she never knew was that when a heart broke, so did everything else. Her health, her mind, her spirit. Her will to draw another breath.
Was this what she had done to all those men?
Kerrick now sat in the dungeons below the castle, awaiting transportation to the kingdom of criminals known as the Barren Realm. Coralina dismissed any thought of seeing him before he left. The only question she might have asked was easily answered. How could he betray her after a lifetime of friendship? Because she drove him to it. She had repaid his years of devotion with uncaring disloyalty. Cutting off her hair (or trying to) had been his desperate act of vengeance. Like a beaten dog, he finally bit her hand.
She lay on her stomach, her face turned to the wall without the mirror. She heard the door open but didn’t care who it was. The mattress sank as someone sat on her bed.
“I’m not leaving until you eat something.”
Heidel.
When Coralina didn’t move, Heidel grabbed a shoulder and rolled her over. A tray sat on the bedside table with a goblet of milk and a thick slice of bread. Steam drifted upward as though the loaf had just been cut.
“Look, the Lumen bread!” said Heidel. “You’re getting the first slice.”
Coralina shut her eyes. Heidel, with hands strong from kitchen work, forced Coralina into sitting against the headboard. “Now.” Heidel ripped off a corner of bread, “Open your mouth, or I’m shoving it up your nose.”
Coralina opened her mouth. The bread, dotted with red bits of Lumen fruit, was warm, soft, and beautifully sweet. She took the second piece Heidel offered.
Heidel watched with her usual steady gaze. “I think I’m the only one who knows.”
“Knows what?” said Coralina. She took another piece of bread.
“Your feelings for Gord,” said Heidel. “The night you said he hated you – you didn’t eat. I’ve never, never seen a man kill your appetite. And that’s how I knew.”
Coralina dropped her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Good. You need your mouth to eat.” Heidel offered the goblet of milk and Coralina sipped obediently.
“Kerrick’s not talking much either,” said Heidel. “Maelyn tried. He won’t reveal who the other bandit was. He did say many have been caught, in Grunwold and Kurzha. And apparently, the Twin Queens have altered their hairstyle and the craze over long braids is lessening.” She rolled her eyes. “Remind me to serve them boiled rats next time they visit.”
“Hideous queens,” Coralina mumbled.
Heidel patted her knee. “Yes, Coco, everyone’s ugly but you. Now finish your breakfast and dress yourself. You’re going out with Luxley.”
Coralina looked up, instantly rebellious.
“That’s Maelyn!” said Heidel. “She thinks you need ‘air’ and ‘diversion’. And Luxley has been with us seven days, waiting to see you. Frankly, we’re all sick of him.”
“I can’t,” Coralina said feebly.
Heidel held out the remaining bread. “Chew it up. The carriage is waiting.”
Chapter 31
The dappled gray horses pulled the carriage away from the castle. Coralina sat by the window and scowled at the spring morning that blossomed and fluttered and warbled. It had no right to be fresh and beautiful.
“We’ll talk of nothing unpleasant!” said Luxley, clasping her hand. He had chosen to sit beside her rather than on the opposite bench. “Nothing but sunshine and rainbows for my darling!”
Coralina didn’t want sunshine and rainbows. She wished Luxley hadn’t come. He was too cheerful, too shiny, wrapped in silk and crowned in sapphires. Coralina had thrown on a plain gown of lavender wool and hadn’t brushed her hair.
The carriage sloped downward between straight rows of Lumen trees, following the wide road that divided the forest. “Why aren’t you angry?” she asked.
“Angry?” Luxley laughed. “At what?”
“You were angry after the ball. When you... got hit on the head.”
“I was embarrassed!” said Luxley. “The prince of Bella Reino knocked out by a falling tree limb! You really should chop that old willow down before another fellow gets hurt.”
Falling tree limb? Coralina wondered which of her sisters had lied to Luxley. Probably Heidel.
Bless her.
“Where are we going?” said Coralina.
“Wherever you desire!” Luxley lay his arm across her shoulders. “We can stroll hand-in-hand through the pretty streets of Merridell. Or lounge on the grassy banks of Lumen Lake, singing ballads under the sun. Or ride the horses bareback across a wild meadow!”
Coralina shook her head. “Creaklee.” She hadn’t planned this. The thought fell upon her like a roof collapsing. She needed to see Gord. Now.
Luxley frowned. “Creaklee. Isn’t that a village of peasants?”
Coralina sighed. “There’s... there’s something....” She could think of no reason that sounded convincing.
“And isn’t Creaklee the locality of that buffoon who butchered your play?”
“Yes,” she said weakly. Luxley thought Gord’s outburst was part of the play, a badly-revised ending he’d concocted himself.
“Ah!” said Luxley. “You wish to chastise him for his wretched performance. Will that lighten your spirits?”
Coralina shrugged. “It might.”
Luxley directed his servant driving the carriage. As they ambled over the hills, he filled the miles with talk of his kingdom; the blushing skies, the sparkling oceans, the snowless winters, the breezy palaces. A kingdom, he said, where everyone was beautiful.
“Promise you will visit!” said Luxley. “Even among its beauties you will shine.”
Coralina smiled. “Yes, I’ll come.”
Luxley grew quiet as they crawled into Creaklee and she sensed he enjoyed the close, colorless streets as little as she did. After some argument, she convinced him to wait at the Old Ogre Inn while she continued on foot.
“But you’re injured!” Luxley protested.
“It hurts very little now,” said Coralina. “Please. My errand must be done alone.”
With barely a limp, she worked through the streets, giving no thought to the peasants who bustled around her. She turned down a small lane that crept between shops of weavers, spinners, and tailors. A trio of tall peasant girls shuffled passed her, their arms weighted with wool skeins. Coralina caught her name being whispered, followed by scornful laughter. Clearly they had seen the play.
She lifted her chin and went on. But as she tried to pass a clothier’s shop, a large man stepped out of it, blocking her path.
Gord.
Chapter 32
Coralina wasn’t ready. Her stomach clenched and a frantic desire to run seized her limbs. Even with poor vision, she knew he recognized her. His expression was neither surprised nor dismayed, as if he’d been expecting this and wanted to get it behind him.
Gord gave a stiff nod. “Princess.”
They faced each other, an arm’s length apart, as wagons rattled past their heels and peasants jostled around them. Coralina was keenly aware the thr
ee girls had stopped to watch, as well as a few stragglers. She hated them all.
Finding it painful to meet his eyes, Coralina dropped her gaze. Gord held a bundle of new cloth under his arm. Yellow cloth.
“Is... is that for Pipsy?” said Coralina.
Gord looked puzzled. “What?”
Coralina shook her head. “Never mind.” Must be for a blanket or tunic. How stupid of her to think....
“I’m very busy, Princess,” said Gord. “Was there something you wanted to say?”
Coralina sighed. She didn’t know how to do this any way except bluntly. “Can’t we... can't we be friends?” she mumbled, staring at his boots.
“No,” said Gord.
A burst of snickers from the peasant girls.
Hot tears washed over Coralina’s eyes. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. That he’d show some regret, perhaps. But no. He really and truly hated her.
Something seemed to prick her conscience, suggesting she should speak. But what could she say? I never meant to hurt you. Actually, she had. I think I’m in love with you. He would never believe her.
Coralina turned away, not knowing where she’d go. Far from him. As far as she could.
“Princess....”
She turned back.
Gord’s eyes flitted to the peasant girls, to the stragglers watching them. He stepped close to Coralina, lowering his voice to reach her ears alone. “I heard of your attack,” he said. “And that it happened just after the play. It crushed me to learn of my cousin’s involvement, that he was capable of such cruelty. Please know that I had no hand in it.”
“I know,” said Coralina. She took a breath and asked a question that seven days’ solitude had presented to her. “Your wife - she went after other men, didn’t she?”
Gord grimaced. “I never should have mentioned her. But yes. And like a fool, I pretended not to notice. Then she ran off with one of them. Away from me. Away from Pipsy.”
Coralina swelled with outrage. That anyone could leave Pipsy, that small, gentle girl....
“When I heard of her death....” Gord paused as anguish pinched his brow. “Well... it meant, at least, that Pipsy wouldn’t be hurt. She’ll never know the real reason her mother left us.”
He stepped back, putting space between them. The story sat heavily in his eyes, aging his features. Coralina wished the wife was still alive – so she could kill her.
“Thank you,” said Coralina. “I know....” A burning blush rose on her cheeks. “I know you don’t l-like me. But if I can’t be a friend to you... may I be a friend to Pipsy?”
Gord looked startled. “Why would you want that? She’s a child.”
“I like her,” said Coralina. She didn’t try to grip his gaze or flood her voice with passion, the tricks she employed to make her words convincing. It was the truth and she spoke it calmly. “And she likes me, you know that. She needs me in her life.”
Gord looked unsettled, uncertain. He shifted the yellow cloth from one arm to the other. For a moment he looked ready to speak. Then, without a word, he turned and strode away from her.
The peasant girls and the stragglers looked disappointed. There had been no royal tantrum or thunderous quarrel. If they sought to fuel their gossip, they would have to embellish. Which, no doubt, they would.
Gord’s heavy strides carried him into the crowd. He towered above the rest; they couldn’t hide him. The hot tears returned as Coralina watched the distance stretch between them. He never once looked back.
She returned to Luxley and the carriage. They rolled out of Creaklee, bound for Lumen Lake, and Luxley was nothing but smiles and compliments. Yet all Coralina could dwell on was Gord walking away from her.
“So glad to leave that sorry village!” Luxley cried. “Did you find the big fellow? Are we done with his unpleasantness?”
Coralina laughed because it effectively hid her sobs. She fumbled through her coin purse and pulled out the owl. In both hands she cradled it, gazing at its rough beauty.
He didn’t want her. She would have to accept that. Her heart would ache for him. Somehow she must bear it. He would never again smile in her eyes....
A tear slipped off her cheek and splashed on the owl’s wooden face. Coralina turned to the window and rested her hand on the narrow sill. She had only to uncurl her fingers and the owl would drop to the road.
“Yes," she whispered. "I'm done."
But the owl remained in her hand.
* * * * * * * * *
Epilogue
Earlier that day:
“It was right HERE!” Heidel seized a collection of wooden spoons off the worktable and hurled them across the kitchen. They crashed against some hanging kettles in a storm of metallic fury. It wasn’t loud enough.
“Was it YOU, Squire?” She turned to a large hound lounging before the cook fire. But no, Squire knew better. She had trained him to take only scraps.
Heidel clenched her fists and paced. She had taken a slice up to Coco. Hustled her into the carriage with Luxley. Returned to the kitchen.
And the Lumen bread was gone.
“ShuLAY!” Heidel shoved through the kitchen door, through the dining hall, up the nearest staircase. This had to be one of Shulay’s pranks. Last month, she’d replaced all of Coco’s shoes with identical pairs of a much smaller size, convincing Coco her feet had stretched overnight.
That was funny. This was cruel.
By the third floor, Heidel was panting hard and stopped to grip the wall. She couldn’t spring up stairways like the skinny princesses. Her face was hot, probably flushing red as her hair.
“Heidel?”
Arialain flitted along the corridor from the opposite end. She was crying but Heidel barely noticed. Tears from Ari were as common as leftover mutton.
“Did you take my bread?” Heidel shouted, her voice bounding off the walls.
“What?” Arialain drew near, her eyelids pink and puffy. “What would I do with your bread?”
“EAT it!” said Heidel, not caring that it wasn’t rational, that Arialain wasn’t big enough to finish off a raisin.
“Of course not!” said Arialain. “Have you seen my doll?”
“Your doll?” Heidel bustled past her sister, disgusted. A doll. She had bigger things to worry about.
“It’s Laina,” Arialain called after her. “I kept her in my trunk, but she’s gone! I’ve looked and looked.”
Heidel stopped. Laina. The doll that looked like Arialain and wore a gold dress. When the king had adopted his nine princesses, they had come to Runa without parents and without possessions. Except Ari. She had been found with the doll.
Heidel took several calming breaths and walked back to Arialain. “I haven’t seen it,” said Heidel. “But I’ll help you look.”
“Oh, will you?” Arialain clasped her hands. “It’s very, very important!”
Heidel nodded. “Good. We’ll make a bargain. I’ll help you find the doll. And you help me murder whoever stole my Lumen bread.”
Book 3 in The Nine Princesses Novellas
Heidel
Click here to purchase Heidel.
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About the Author
I once worked with a girl, quite pretty, who posted a picture – of herself - nearly every day on Facebook. If Princess Coralina had Facebook, I could totally see her doing this.
Basically, Coralina embodies everything I’m not: short, shapely, gorgeous, and popular. I’m more like Maelyn, the forgot-to-wash-my-hair-don’t-bother-me-when-I’m-reading type.
I’ve always been enchanted by the ‘beautiful’ princess. My first visit to Disney World was at age 23, where I saw Cinderella, live and in person, for the first time. I didn’t queue up with the little girls for pictures and autographs, but I felt just as giddy, and stood nearby just to watch
her and soak up her princessy loveliness.
But with all due respect to saintly Cinderella, I think she’s too perfect. I like a princess with flaws! No one could accuse Coralina of perfection, and as we delve more deeply into this series, you’ll see that some princesses are quite dysfunctional. I like to think that makes them more fun.
If you liked Coralina, despite her defects, please consider going HERE to write a short review on Amazon.com. Since I publish independently, I do the work of ten people to produce these books, (writing, editing, proofreading, formatting, marketing, etc.) and so I sincerely appreciate every bit of help I receive.
Thanks so much for being a part of my journey. God bless you.
Anita Valle
Links to my Website & Books
Anita Valle Art
Maelyn: The Nine Princesses Novellas - Book 1
50 Princesses Coloring Book
The Best Princess Coloring Book
Dog Cartoons Coloring Book
Email: [email protected]