“Here.” I sank down in my box beside the stinky birds, wanting to be alone.
As a slap of the reins set us in motion over the rutted dirt road, I slid the white linen stationery out of the envelope. With a deep sense of dismay, I recognized Father’s formal cursive. What was he thinking? Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the chicken-permeated air.
Alia,
I have often thought, while away at war, that I would enjoy having you beside me to awaken your spoiled mind-set to what life is like for others. Your mother has taken you on many outings with that purpose in mind. As you know, you have often proved to be an ugly ambassador, someone who at times I have been embarrassed to claim as my daughter.
And then you redeem yourself at the piano.
And I want to believe that this young woman with so much passion would have a passion for others.
What? What in the world? This was more like Mother’s voice than Father’s. I rubbed my forehead.
In three months’ time, when Prince Wron turns nineteen, you will be married and become the future queen of Yonder.
My hands dropped to my lap, and I stared at the rutted road behind us. “This is all wrong.” I grimaced. “Who is Prince Wrong?”
His father and I used to be dear friends. King Ulrich held you in his arms when you were only a few weeks old. It was then that the arrangement was made. Wron is aware of your birthmark, and it will help prove who you are.
My hand touched the heart-shaped mark tucked well beneath my chin.
Due to the war and the great distance of Yonder, we have not been in contact as we would have liked. But I know Walter is a man of his word, as am I. Whether or not there is love between you, you will marry Prince Wron for your country.
This was Father’s half of the letter.
“Never let a warmonger plan your wedding!” I stared at the faces of the nearest hens. “He’s exporting me. Exporting me like… like a chicken for his own gain.”
There was no clucking this time. Wide-eyed, they took it all in.
With the union, we’ll be very strong allies with Yonder. A new road will be built between our countries. Trade and commerce will increase and benefit both. As our oldest child, you and your children will be future heirs to this dynasty. Stop looking in the mirror, Alia. Become a woman of purpose and passion. You have been greatly blessed, and because of this, much is expected of you.
I didn’t look in the mirror all that often. Did I?
You are to obey Felix. He is brilliant and equal to fifty men.
I love you. Mother sends her love, too.
Father.
I stared at my father’s royal seal—a crown with one blue gem. The seal of doom.
Lying down in the box, I pulled the lid back in place, curled into the fetal position, and wept.
ΦΦΦ
I stayed in the back of the wagon most of the day, until I was too famished to be proud. “Felix,” I said, loudly. “Felix.”
The wagon lurched to a slow, uncomfortable stop. “Yes, Dory. What is it?” he asked, without turning around.
“I’m hungry.”
“I have buttered bread for you to eat.” Instead of delivering it to me, he remained seated.
I tiptoed around a dozen chicken cages before climbing out of the back of the wagon. After acres of flat green stubble, we appeared to be on the fringe of a small town.
“It’s a good time for you to come up front.” He reached behind him and brought forth a red-haired wig to which a dreadfully common straw hat was attached. “Wear this. We are too close to Blue Sky, and Princess Alia is known for her auburn hair.”
He had to be kidding. I was not going to wear that dreadful combination. What if someone saw me?
“You have to play the part of a commoner or you will put us in danger.” Felix held out the wig.
If I saw anyone I knew, I’d die. I tucked my long hair down the back of the cambric shirt and adjusted the ugly wig on my head. I rounded my shoulders and sulked.
“You are still questionable.” He glanced at me. “The princess is also known for her clear complexion.” From his pocket, he produced a small bottle of brown liquid, and handed it to me. “Wipe this walnut oil on your face, hands, and arms.”
Walnut oil. A woman desiring a clear complexion would do no such things. Didn’t people bake with it, or use it on furniture?
Felix flicked the reins and stared straight ahead at the minuscule village in the distance. “If recognized, you could easily be ransomed for large sums, or killed to prevent the union of Blue Sky and Yonder.”
I was dressed like a peasant, wearing a ridiculous wig. No one would recognize me.
“I myself have only just found out about the union,” I said.
“Rumor of your betrothal has circulated for years.”
“I knew Father was up to something.” I sighed. “The Twelve-Year War was his midlife crisis, don’t you think?” To pacify the farmer, and to earn a piece of the thick sliced buttered bread, I wiped the walnut oil on my face, hands, and arms.
“You are not well informed. The Twelve-Year War was a peasant’s revolt flamed by grievances amongst townships.”
“That’s right, I heard a lot about revolting peasants.”
My captor regarded me sternly with a lifted brow.
“When I was growing up . . .” My voice faded.
“We are now entering the town of Fhar. For our safety, I think it best that you not speak. If for some reason you must speak, the only word you are to say is dur. And hide the ring.”
“D-ur?” I asked, and slipped the jade ring that Father had given me only yesterday morning into my pocket.
“Yes, just like that, like you are mute and dumb.” The corner of Felix’s mouth twitched; otherwise, there were no redeeming qualities in the farmer’s pudgy face. Yet, for some reason, my father trusted him.
“French is my second language,” I said, with a lift of my chin. “I shall speak French.”
“On this side of the mountains, it is common knowledge that Princess Alia’s second language is French.”
Dur was too far beneath me. I would not say it.
The rambling little hamlet bore signs of prosperity—three stores in a row were brightly painted—and then signs of abandonment—half a dozen buildings lay in crumbled piles. I wondered if any store in town carried shoes. I would have loved to buy a new pair. Ones with a little more heel and a lot more style.
“Will we stop?” I whispered.
“At one store. You are not to leave my side.”
When Felix parked the wagon in front of Landry’s Dry Goods, a crowd gathered on the sidewalk. The people were shabbily dressed in shades of gray and stared almost as much as when my entourage of fifty soldiers shopped with me in Blue Sky.
“Why are they staring?” I whispered.
“Shh!” Felix hushed me and hopped out of the wagon. “Come, Dory.” He raised his arms, waiting to lift me out.
It was all a bad dream. Their complexions matched their clothes, a sullen shade of gray. The emptiness in their eyes appeared too real.
I rose stiffly and held on to my hat as my captor swung me to the ground beside him. I followed him to the rear of the wagon, where he stacked three chicken crates together before carrying them. “Come, Dory.”
Holding on to my hat, I followed him through a throng of people.
“She is odd,” said an old woman wearing an equally odd outfit.
I agreed with her: I was odd. I followed Felix inside the feed store and to the counter. “I have chickens to trade for a pig,” he told the clerk.
“All is well?” The dark-haired, middle-aged man behind the counter glanced at me.
“Yes.” Felix slid an envelope across the counter. “All is well.”
“Drive around back, and we will load it.”
Somehow, the man behind the counter knew. The letter was probably an update on my condition, but to whom? Father?
A crowd had gathered outside. As we wa
lked to the wagon, another elderly woman stared unmercifully at me. “Where are you from?” she demanded. Though she was wearing a dress, she reminded me of one of Father’s head guards.
I recalled that Felix was as capable as fifty men. I began to count the gathering townspeople. Perhaps it was best that we not take them on.
“Dur,” I said.
“The dumb are not welcome in Fhar.” She looked at Felix.
“We are only here for supplies, and then my daughter and I will be on our way.” He nodded and tipped his straw hat.
“After the merger, the dumb will be taxed the same as the sharp of mind. It will become impossible for you to keep her.”
“Pray that Prince Wron governs with heart,” Felix said. “My daughter may be dumb, but she is not immune to suffering.”
My face warmed beneath the walnut stain. I was in the most bizarre dream. Or perhaps it was my unblemished childhood that was the dream?
The crowd parted, and Felix boosted me up onto the bench seat. I ignored all of the years of etiquette my mother had instilled in me and simply sat down, crumpling the back of my dress beneath me.
At the rear of the feed store, a bale of hay and feed for the horses were loaded into the wagon. Lastly, a loud, squealing white pig with brown spots was carried to and contained in my old cage.
“You did well.” Felix shook the reins. “Thank you, Dory.”
I clasped my hands in my lap and realized that I was trembling. I’d feel much better when the town of Fhar was far behind us.
“Why were they so unfriendly?” I glanced behind us as we turned left at the last fork on our way out of town.
“After twelve years of war, devastation, and starvation, there is much healing needed in your future kingdom.”
Yesterday, I had been dreaming of my first kiss. Why did today have to be such a contrast? I scrunched my face up tightly, trying to contain my misery; but it still crept all the way down to my fingertips. The next song I played would be frightful. Hopefully, I’d be wearing a different dress. How I longed for my blue chiffon dress and my periwinkle dancing shoes with their silver tips and light-as-air heels.
“Why did I have to pretend to be dumb?”
“You didn’t have to pretend.” A faint smile teased the corner of his mouth.
Did he think he was funny? The large, stocky man was rude.
“You pretended to be dumb on account of your Blue Sky accent. Unlike other provinces, Blue Sky does not pronounce its ers. Dinn-a, supp-a.”
My accent had never been commented on before, and I’d danced with plenty of countries.
“What else is there to eat?” I’d only had a slice of bread. Maybe he was starving me so that I’d obey.
“We will stop in a few hours for the night.” Felix slapped the reins.
“A few hours?” I huffed. I’d never make it.
“Yes, a few hours. Do not wear your hat tonight.”
“Will I be Princess Alia tonight?”
“No. During our journey, you will always be Dory.”
My stomach knotted and began to ache. Was this what hunger felt like, or was it something else? If Felix was so brilliant, why hadn’t he packed more food? In one day, I’d gone from being the daughter of a king to becoming the dumb, hungry daughter of a chicken farmer.
I wanted my old life back.
ΦΦΦ
The wagon came to an abrupt stop, jolting me awake. I’d fallen asleep against my captor’s shoulder. Night had fallen. We were in the country, beneath a huge old tree, parked next to what appeared to be an outhouse.
“Stay here.” Felix jumped down from the wagon and disappeared around the corner of the small building. He obviously had to use the privy. In his absence, I thought about escaping. The problems were: I didn’t have any money or food; I didn’t know where I was or where I could go; I was entirely dependent on the chicken farmer.
Felix soon returned and opened the pig’s cage. He lifted out the squealing animal and carried it to the rear of the outhouse. On his next trip to the wagon, he picked up two chicken cages.
“Take off your hat, put it in the burlap sack, and follow me.”
I did as he said and followed him to the front of the outhouse. We entered without knocking. It was not an outhouse; it was a home.
I had visited the less fortunate with Mother on many occasions. We’d deliver clothes and food, and sometimes I would read stories to the children, but never had I seen poverty until now. I bit my lower lip.
In this one-room home, there was a fireplace built with mortar and rock, a makeshift table in the middle of the room, a cooking stove, a bed, and a couch made of a hollowed tree. The floor wasn’t marble, granite, or brick; it was simply dirt. A little girl sat on the couch cuddled in a drab blanket. The home was so humble, there wasn’t even a mirror. There didn’t appear to be one anywhere. I sat down in a creaky chair on the same side of the table as Felix. Two tallow candles provided the only light in the room.
A lean, middle-aged woman hovered near the stove. She glanced nervously over her shoulder at me, like she knew who I really was.
“Greda, this is Dory.”
Greda nodded. “Dank you for dee pig and dee chickens.”
I nodded and tried to hide my surprise at her odd accent.
“Greda is twenty-two years old. Sadie, her daughter, is six,” Felix whispered.
I glanced back at the woman. She looked twice as old as she was. Could today’s circumstances possibly be real?
I acknowledged Sadie, who was seated ten feet away. With the face of an angel, the dark-haired little girl smiled at me. Like my sister Wren, she was precious and beautiful. Wren, I could not think about Wren. Would I ever see her again?
“Momma, do I sdill need do be quied?”
“Yes, Sadie.”
“Greda’s husband joined Blue Sky’s army shortly after they were married. He was killed a year later,” Felix whispered. “Except for her daughter, Greda only has one relative; and, due to the war, she has not seen him for many years.”
This was all a wild charade. Maybe they were all actors: the outhouse was staged, and the villagers in Fhar and these people were also my father’s puppets.
Felix pulled my letter from Father out of his pocket and held a corner of the envelope over the candle’s light. My childhood, Father’s royal seal, and what might possibly be my only link to my identity grew to a large flame. He carried the letter to the stove, lifted a burner lid, and disposed of it.
Though my heart stopped, I didn’t scream. I just stared.
“Soup is ready. Sadie, dime do come do dee dable.”
Turning to her tummy, Sadie slid off the couch and began to limp toward me. With her right foot angled toward her left, she walked sideways on it. Maybe it was due to the last twenty-four hours and my extreme hunger, but the largest knot I’d ever had to swallow formed in my throat.
Sadie climbed up in the chair across from me. Dark, shoulder-length curls framed her heart-shaped face. Freckles danced across her pug nose. When a bowl of soup was placed in front of her, glee crossed her face.
“Lendils.” Her eyes twinkled. “Lendils!”
I stared at the soup delivered to me. Lentils must be the small, grayish-green disks in the clear broth. I wondered where the potatoes and chunks of chicken and dill—
“Dank you, Fadder, for dhis meal, for bringing Felix and Dory safely do our home, for dee pig and chickens. Amen,” Greda said.
“Lendils!” Sadie smiled across the table at me.
My, the little girl was fond of lentils. I took a sip of the broth. It reminded me of the gray-clothed townspeople in Fhar. Ten colors and flavors were missing.
“Do you have salt?” I asked, looking at Greda.
Felix cleared his throat and, with a slight shake of his head, informed me that I was being impolite.
“We haven’d had sald for years,” Greda said.
Today was all an act. Somehow Father and Felix orchestrated everything an
d everyone, the thespians, the props. I smiled. Did they really think I was so gullible?
“Momma,” Sadie said, “dee soup is very good widhoud sald.”
“You have never acquired a dasde for sald,” said her mother. “Someday you will, Sadie, and you will undersdand.”
Across the table, the little girl glared at me.
I scooped another spoonful of the flat, flavorless broth.
“You are nod a very nice guesd,” Sadie said under her breath.
I lifted my gaze from my spoon; the little girl was looking at me.
“Sadie! You need do apologize,” said her mother.
Red stained the child’s cheeks. Her eyes blazed and she shook her head. The little thespian had been trained to duel in defense of her mama’s lentil soup.
“Sadie, if you dab salt on the tongue alone…” I bunched my face up, grimacing. “It tastes overwhelmingly strong, but if you add just the right amount of salt to food—like your mama’s lentil soup—it will bring out the flavor. Like your mother said, someday you will understand.”
The child stared at me and crossed her arms. “I did nod hear you say you are sorry.”
They had picked a talented little actress. A heavy silence settled between my opponent and me.
“You are right, Sadie; I did not say I was sorry, but I explained my circumstances so you will understand why I asked for salt.”
Sadie’s gaze shifted to her mother. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Greda shake her head. Sadie shrugged and sipped another spoonful of the warm liquid.
After finishing her soup, Greda turned to me. “Dory, can you sid widh Sadie while I do dee dishes?”
Were there no other courses? My gaze scoured the stove. Nothing else had been prepared. I would surely die of hunger by morning.
“Yes, I will sit with her.” I followed the little girl as she limped her way to the log couch.
“I will sleep outside near the wagon tonight,” Felix informed us.
He was leaving me in here all alone with them. Where would I sleep?
I sat down first. Sadie wrestled the drab blanket over our laps and wiggled herself against my side, probably for warmth, or perhaps she had forgiven me.
The Piano Girl - Part One (Counterfeit Princess Series) Page 2