Princesses Don't Get Fat

by Aya Ling

  “Your Highness!” Effie called, waving. “We had better hurry if we want to arrive on time!”

  The palace, which had been breathtaking from afar, appeared even grander when they arrived. Another wall, albeit lower than the city wall, surrounded the palace, and the entrance was well staffed with broad-shouldered, blank-faced palace guards. The courtyard was as big as the Grand Plaza of Amaranta, and it was meticulously maintained. Everything was neat, symmetrical, and orderly, as well as being well-made and of high quality. Several courtiers swept past. They were tall and slim and graceful, just like the people in Avon streets, only clad in finer clothes and jewelry.

  Valeria stepped off the carriage when it stopped in the courtyard, and immediately dozens of stares latched onto her like flies attracted to honey. The courtiers stopped and stared, and a couple fine-looking ladies whispered at each other.

  “Pssst! Who is that?”

  “No idea. But she’s got an entourage, and her clothes look expensive enough.”

  “But why is she so—fat?”

  “Hush!”

  Valeria couldn’t hear them, but she could conjecture that the comments were not flattering. She simply smiled and nodded at them, figuring that she might as well act as though nothing was strange.

  A squire was sent to take care of the carriage and crew men, while another led Valeria to see the king and queen.

  As they were led through numerous corridors and hallways, Effie couldn’t help making tiny gasps of awe. “Ooooh. This place is huge.”

  “Effie, stop it.” Winifred gave her a pinch on the arm. “It’s a palace, just a bigger one, that’s all. No need to drop your jaw at every room.”

  Valeria wasn’t paying attention. She was doing her best to control her breathing because she was getting breathless from the walk.

  To make things worse, the king and queen sat on the far edge of the throne room. When Valeria reached the throne, she was all too ready to collapse in the chair provided for her.

  “Welcome, Princess Valeria,” King Ronald said.

  “You must be exhausted from the long trip,” Queen Eleanor added. She beckoned to a squire. “Bring her a cup of water.”

  Valeria raised her head and blinked. The king was good-looking, but the queen was possibly the most beautiful person she had ever seen. On the way to the palace, she had heard of the queen’s great beauty, and now she found the rumors well justified. Long, glossy tresses of midnight-black hair, large, limpid eyes the color of sapphires, and a complexion that seemed to be produced from milk and roses. When the queen smiled, everything around her seemed to fade into oblivion.

  “What is Amaranta like?” Queen Eleanor went on. “It is so far away that we rarely have any visitors from there.”

  “Well…I have to admit that the weather is better there,” Valeria said. And the food as well, by leaps and bounds, but she thought the weather was a safer subject.

  “Indeed,” the king said. “I am sorry to say that here in Avon, it is mostly cloudy and foggy.”

  Valeria found the king and queen nice enough, even though they were rather stiff and formal. Unlike the courtiers she met earlier, they showed no sign of noticing her uncommonly plump figure. If they had heard of her disastrous shooting contest, they acted as though they heard nothing about it and instead focused the conversation on Amaranta.

  Still, Valeria was glad when the reception was over. She was weary, hungry, and longed for a piping hot meal and a comfortable bed.

  She was then sent to Lord Darwar, the veteran warrior who headed the Academy. He was well into his fifties, with a grizzly beard and a mane of grizzly hair, and a scar that ran from his left cheek to his chin.

  When Valeria sat down, her chair creaked immediately. The princess had to grip the arms of the chair and try not to put too much weight on the seat. She would not want to break a chair on her first day of arrival.

  Darwar did not look at her, but the lines on his brow creased.

  “Princess Valeria from Amaranta?” He read over the letter from Queen Jacinda. “You have no prior training?”

  “None,” Valeria said cheerfully. She saw no reason to evade the truth.

  “Hmm.” Darwar drew his eyebrows together. “You will find the training overwhelming. However, your mother made it plain that you need to keep up with other princesses your age, and the best way was to enroll at the Academy. ”

  Valeria nodded. She did not feel it necessary to point out that the real reason was that her mother wanted her to lose weight, which was impossible to achieve while she was in Amaranta.

  “As a first-year student, you will take classes on unarmed combat, staff practice, archery, and horsemanship. You will also begin every morning with a run around the lake and finish the day with a strengthening and conditioning exercise. Evenings are free, but most students use the time to review what they have learned.”

  Urgh. It would be a miracle if she could stay plump with a daily schedule like this. It looked like her mother’s wish would be fulfilled soon.

  “What about my maids?” Valeria asked. “Is there enough room for them in the Academy?”

  “Personal handmaids are not permitted for students,” Darwar said sternly. “The purpose of the Academy is to train the royals and nobles to be competent individuals.”

  “Although we have servants to clean the halls and stoke the fires, basically you will have to tend to yourself every day. You must make your own bed, dress without aid of a maid, bring your own share of food to the dining hall, and run your own errands.”

  Valeria nodded. She was not happy to hear of the extra work, but she supposed things could be worse.

  “You may send your servants back to Amaranta, or the king can find employment for them at the palace.”

  Winifred was not surprised to learn that they were not to accompany Valeria, but Effie was distraught.

  “But what will Her Highness do without us to look after her?” she asked. “Who will zip up the back of her dress every morning?” Given Valeria’s figure, zipping up her dress required certain skill.

  As it turned out, the Academy ruled that every noble-in-training should wear a uniform that consisted of a white shirt and black trousers. This was to prevent the royals from cultivating vanity and competition and also to ensure that they were rightly outfitted for the daily routines of physical training.

  A rather timid-looking servant girl called Henrietta was sent to take Valeria to the palace tailor to have her measurements taken.

  The palace tailor and the seamstresses did a double take when Valeria entered.

  “Saints and gods, is that a princess?” a seamstress whispered.

  Valeria rolled her eyes and pretended that she was deaf.

  “A pleasure to meet you,” she said breezily, greeting the tailor and seamstresses with a wave and smile. “I’m Valeria of Amaranta, and I’ll be attending the Academy. Will you please take my measurements right away? They expect me to start classes tomorrow, though I certainly have no objection to starting on a later date if my uniform is not ready.”

  “My apologies, Your Highness.” The tailor jumped up. “Step over this way and hold up your arms, please.”

  “Thank you.”

  Unsurprisingly, Valeria’s uniform was going to require more material and stitches, but the tailor promised her it would be ready in the evening.

  Now that her uniform was taken care of, Henrietta led Valeria to her bed chamber. Or rather, the chamber where she would room with two other young noble women.

  Valeria was rather surprised to learn that she actually was going to have roommates. Surely Riviera nobles could afford to stay in private rooms. But then, recalling that personal maids were not allowed, perhaps this was yet another rule to make the nobles adapt to ordinary, unprivileged life.

  “Please let me know if you need anything, milady,” Henrietta said shyly. “Within the rules, of course.”

  Valeria sat on the bed, which, like the chair in Lord Darwar’s of
fice, gave such a loud creak that she quickly stood up again, made sure no damage was done, and slowly sat down again. The beds at Riviera were flimsier than she thought.

  Gazing around the room, she thought there was little to love about it. It was extremely neat and spotless. She would have to ask Henrietta to teach her how to fold the blankets without any edges sticking out.

  Briefly, she wondered how Effie and Winifred were doing. Hopefully, the king would let them work in the kitchens. She could probably sneak for a midnight snack while they were working.

  The door opened.

  Two girls entered, wearing the requisite black-and-white uniform. Both were tall and slender—exact opposites of Valeria. One girl had straight black hair tied in a short ponytail and a solemn, no-nonsense expression. She carried a quiver of arrows on her back, a bow in her hand, and a long sword strapped to her belt. The other girl had a mop of bright red curls and was carrying a lead-tipped wooden staff. Her eyes widened upon beholding Valeria.

  Valeria rose with a ready smile. “Hello. You must be my new roommates. I am Princess Valeria from Amaranta.”

  The black-haired girl nodded and grasped Valeria's hand, giving it a polite shake. “A pleasure, Princess. I’m Nadine of Nostrov. Welcome to the Academy.”

  “Lydia of Glastonbury.” The red-haired girl extended her hand with a smile, though her eyes strayed towards Valeria’s waist.

  “Is everything settled?” Nadine inquired. “Do you have any questions?”

  Valeria smiled. “Everything’s fine,” she said. Whereupon her stomach gave a loud growl, as though in betrayal.

  Oops.

  Lydia raised her eyebrows. A hint of a smile appeared briefly on Nadine’s face, though she maintained a cool demeanor.

  “The dinner bell will ring in about two hours’ time.”

  Two hours! She was starving. After a quick lunch, she hadn’t had anything to eat since.

  Valeria did a quick survey of her luggage. Unfortunately, the servants had only brought her clothes and some toiletries. The cartload of meat pies and hard cheeses had been sent to some other place.

  Drat. Usually if she wanted to have a snack, she could just ring up Effie or Winifred, or if it was midnight, she could sneak in the kitchens, but those options were not possible now.

  Valeria welcomed dinnertime with open arms; she thought she was going to faint from hunger. She did not even mind that they had to carry their own meal trays to the dining table without aid of any servant. However, she was utterly annoyed to find that the meal consisted only of bean stew and brown bread. Furthermore, the stew was lukewarm—how long did they leave it before serving? The bread was extremely dry and tough; Valeria had to use all her strength to saw through it for a piece.

  “Is this what you normally eat?” she couldn’t help asking Nadine, who was calmly eating away without a blink of the eye.

  “Yes.”

  “The food is not to your liking?” Lydia asked with a sly wink.

  Valeria grimaced. Atrocious hardly seemed adequate.

  Still, because she was ravenous, she finished her stew within minutes, even faster than the stouter boys.

  Then she went for seconds.

  A whisper ran through the students when they saw her go to the buffet table and return with a full tray. Valeria ignored them; by now she was used to the stares and whispers. She was only worried how she would survive meals like this every day.

  Three

  The next morning dawned bright and early. Valeria stuffed her ears when the first bell rang.

  “Valeria.” Nadine’s cool voice echoed through the room. “Get up, or we’ll be late.”

  “Hurry!” Lydia threw a pillow on her bed, narrowly missing Valeria’s head. “If we’re not in time for breakfast, they will punish us all by foregoing breakfast altogether. Imagine the whole day ahead without food!”

  That did the trick. Valeria sat up abruptly and climbed out of bed. As appalling as Riviera food was, she could not afford to miss a meal.

  According to Nadine, a typical day at the Royal Academy started with a morning run around the lake. Ten laps had to be finished, whether you ran or crawled.

  Great.

  There was a huge willow tree that grew on one side of the lake. Under this tree, a tall young man stood, waiting.

  A collective whisper ran through several girls.

  “It’s him!”

  “Prince Ralph?”

  “Such luck! I knew my prayers were answered when I wished on a falling star before I came!”

  Valeria saw Lydia’s hand jump to her hair, tucking a strand of bright red hair behind her ear.

  “What is all the fuss about?” she asked Nadine, who was calmly doing some warm-up exercises.

  “It’s the crown prince, Ralph.”

  And when they reached the willow tree, Valeria understood why the girls were so excited. Prince Ralph Francis Gerald Leventhorpe, heir to the Riviera throne, was strikingly handsome. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with raven-black hair, ice-blue eyes, a handsomely aristocratic nose, and perfectly symmetrical features that seemed carved to order. No surprises, given that he had inherited his looks from Queen Eleanor, yet his posture and demeanor bestowed him a refined, polished air without seeming too feminine. However, his face was as bland and expressionless as stone; it was difficult to imagine him as a child.

  Valeria had to admit that she was also attracted to His Royal Highness’s dazzling good looks, though she also realized with the same candor that chances of ensnaring the crown prince were as bright as her mother allowing her to remain overweight.

  She shrugged and followed the others.

  “Ten laps, everyone.” Prince Ralph directed them to gather in rows of ten. “Start. Now.”

  By the end of the first lap, Valeria was ready to stop. As she rarely engaged in physical exercise, one lap around the lake was enough to make her breathing ragged and her lungs felt like bursting.

  Soon she was lagging behind and when others were starting on their third lap, she was only halfway through her second.

  Prince Ralph, of course, noticed her immediately.

  “Keep moving,” he said sternly, as she paused for breath.

  Valeria ignored him. She headed for the lake straightaway.

  Like a flash, he moved forward and blocked her way. “You need to finish your running.”

  “I need water,” Valeria said, wiping sweat from her brow. “I’m sure I’ll collapse without a drink, and I doubt you’d be able to shoulder my weight to the infirmary. I daresay I’m much heavier than a sword or mace.”

  He stared. Obviously, very few people had dared to address him in such a flippant manner.

  Valeria used the opportunity to stagger past him and take a drink from the lake.

  “Don’t worry, I will finish the ten laps,” she assured him before he could say another word. “Only don’t expect me to run the entire length. You see, it’s a long time since I’ve done any physical exercise, so I’d appreciate it if you don’t mind that I walk for the remainder.”

  Valeria waddled back to the trail, leaving the prince standing there in surprise. She knew it was his duty to make sure everyone was not wasting their tuition fees, but surely one couldn’t expect too much from a princess whose idea of exercise was a leisurely stroll to the pantry.

  Her tardiness did cause a problem, though. Everyone was waiting for her to finish, and though Valeria kept on walking at a brisk pace, it was kind of uncomfortable with a hundred or so people staring. She was relieved when the run was finally over.

  The following classes were not any better.

  In hand combat class, the instructor, Giles, had them divide into pairs and do mock practice. Valeria was paired with a hostile-looking boy from a prestigious warrior caste family, who did not care if she had no combat training. She was punched in the stomach and fell on the ground several times, before Giles noticed and assigned her a different partner. Valeria still could not land a decent blow, b
ut at least her new partner did not treat her like a sand bag.

  Staff training class was worse. The instructor, Ulaf, had no patience at all. Valeria thought she was going to be deaf from his outbursts.

  “You need to step before you strike!” he yelled at Valeria for the umpteenth time. “Keep your staff raised! Do you possess any strength in those fleshy arms? And run when I tell you, not slouch! Are you trying to outrun a snail?”

  While Valeria did her best to keep up, she could not get through a single class without being criticized, whether it may be for her lack of strength, stamina, or agility. She simply was not fit for the grueling exercises meant for warriors-to-be.

  To make things worse, the other young royals and nobles looked down at her as some misled girl who just came to the Academy for fun.

  Once, during archery practice, she overheard several students, Lydia included, talking about her.

  “Look at the princess from Amaranta—can she be any more pathetic? That’s the third target she missed.”

  “We have dreams of becoming great warriors,” a knight-in-making said. “What is she thinking? Does she take our training as some fashionable game?”

  “Did you hear that her parents actually had to hold an archery contest to find her a husband? And that all her suitors ended up competing to lose her hand?”

  “Oh, I suppose she came so she can lose weight,” Lydia said, smirking.

  Valeria winced. It was the truth, but she was not comfortable admitting it.