by Aya Ling
“But Rivieran brides always wear white! Remember, she is the crown prince’s bride, so there is no way she can avoid tradition!”
“What is to be done? There’s no time to make another one! And given Princess Valeria’s figure, she won’t be able to fit into any of the queen’s dresses!”
Ari could feel their pain. The wedding dress—which was lying on the table—was a misty dream for any princess, traditional or not. Tiny pearls were woven in intricate patterns on the skirt; bows and laces adorned the front part, and the sash was the crowning glory: it wound twice around the waist area and fell to the floor. But the effect was seriously ruined by the ugly brown stains on the front.
“Cannot the dress be mended?” she asked. Because there was such a commotion in the room, she had to raise her voice again to be heard.
“Impossible!” Peregrine threw up his hands. “Look at the state of the dress! Unless you trim off the front completely, you can’t get rid of the stains! But trimming off the folds—you might as well use the rest of the dress as a rag! And who are you, anyway?” he added, staring at her.
“I’m Princess Arianna of Linderall,” Ari said, a trifle annoyed that the palace tailor didn’t recognize her. Well, it had been months since he had taken her measurements for the Academy uniform, but still her pride was wounded. Had her features been that forgettable?
“My apologies, Princess,” Peregrine immediately said, probably realizing that he had snapped at the princess. He glanced at the tunic she was carrying. “Don’t mean to be unhelpful, but as you see, we have our hands full at the moment. This dress—we need a lot of time to make a new one.”
“But Georgiana said it was you—or someone here—who mended my dress earlier,” Ari said, bemused. “I burned up the sleeves at the market and you fixed it by adding a lovely over-sleeve. Can you not do something similar, instead of starting anew?”
The tailor stared, his measuring yardstick poised in midair. “What dress? I never mended any dress of yours.”
Ari could hardly wait until Georgiana returned.
“Can you believe this?” Georgiana grumbled, tossing a pink frilly dress on the bed. “My mother wants me to wear THIS. She wouldn’t let me go until I promised I’d take this back with me.”
Ari glanced at the dress. Even her superior fashion sense (at least in her opinion superior to anyone in the Academy) disapproved. The sleeves were so puffed up that they resembled balloons. The color of the skirt was a deep fuchsia pink that no one should be caught wearing, and the huge bow in the back of the waist made the entire outfit look gaudy. Ari seriously wondered if Lady Greenwood was trying to diminish her daughter’s matrimonial prospects rather than enhance them.
“Do not wear it,” Marcella said simply. “That dress is auspicious.”
“Atrocious, you mean,” Georgiana said. She looked down on the dress with deep disgust. “Atrocious, appalling, abominable!”
“We’ll figure out a way to improve it,” Ari said. “But first: Georgiana, who mended my lavender gown? I went to the tailor’s today, and he never heard of my burnt gown. So I want to know—who actually put on those half-sleeves?”
Georgiana flushed. She fiddled with the hem of her tunic before speaking.
“Well... if you really must know... it’s Lance.”
“LANCE?” Ari dropped the hideous dress on the floor.
“Your brother can... sew?” Marcella stared.
Georgiana nodded. “I know it sounds weird, but he’s actually awfully skilled with needle and thread, ever since we were children. I’ve asked him to mend my clothes ever so many times, and he always does it beautifully. He wanted to be a tailor, but Father wouldn’t hear of it.”
An image of Sir Greenwood sprang into Ari’s mind. No, he definitely did not seem the type of father who would approve of a wayward son.
“Lance has an eye for dress patterns. I wanted to take your gown to the tailors as a rag, but he stopped me and offered to fix it. Said it was a waste to let your gown be cut up in bits and pieces, especially when the color’s so pretty.”
Ari couldn’t believe what she just heard. Did Georgiana just say that Lance, who came from a prestigious family of knights, was in fact a talented dressmaker?
Then she remembered her first day of school, when she had just arrived on the Academy grounds. She remembered the admiring look that Lance had given her, and had smugly thought that she must have dazzled him with her good looks. But now she realized that it must have been her gown that garnered his attention. Her elegant lavender gown, with hyacinth-blue embroidery and snowy white trimmings. No wonder he hadn’t shown any romantic interest in her afterwards. She had assumed that it was because she was no longer wearing makeup and was forced to wear the monochrome black-and-white uniform. He was never interested in her romantically in the beginning, just in her dress.
Ari almost laughed. Once the humiliation was over, she found it hilarious. And picturing Lance mending her gown...
Ari decided to seek out Lance. If he could turn her burnt dress into something new, she was positive that he could work wonders with Valeria’s wedding gown as well. She asked the servants, and soon she found Lance practicing archery in one of the courts with several other Academy pupils, wearing his bored expression as usual.
“Lance!” she called.
He looked surprised, but did not move. Ari called again in a commanding tone. Finally he nodded and slouched over to her.
Ari ignored the suspicious looks of other pupils. “I need to talk to you. Now.”
“What about?”
“It concerns the royal wedding,” Ari said loftily. “Do come, Lance. It’s really important.”
She led him to a secluded spot by the lake. Once certain that they wouldn’t be heard, Ari relayed the chocolate-stained wedding dress crisis she had witnessed at the palace tailor’s. She also told him how she learned the truth from Georgiana.
“Don’t blame her, I made her tell me. So Lance, can you please go and see if you can help with Valeria’s wedding dress? You did such an excellent job with my gown. And the dressmakers are currently frantic with all the work they’ve been given, you know, tons of clothes to be outfitted for the wedding.”
Lance didn’t meet her eyes. He twiddled his thumbs and looked away.
“PLEASE.” Ari wasn’t used to begging. “Of course, even if you don’t help, they might still patch up the dress in time, but they are already understaffed. Please, if only you could do something...”
“You don’t understand,” Lance finally said, the bitterness evident in his tone. “Do you know what would happen if my family found out? When I was ten, I told my family I wanted to be a tailor. My father threatened to disown me, my mother went into a fit, and my siblings thought I was stark mad. No Greenwood would ever dream of sewing. If they knew I was asked to work on the wedding gown...” he broke off, seeing that Ari looked ready to shake him.
“Then why did you even bother to fix my gown?” Ari said, jabbing a finger at him. “You can’t bear to see a beautiful dress go to waste, can you? My gown was a tragedy, but Valeria’s wedding dress is a full-fledged disaster! Can you imagine having huge ugly brown stains on white satin? I can’t, and I know you can’t, either! Besides, do you think you’re the only one with family problems? Look at how I suffered when I came here.”
“That’s different,” Lance said gloomily. “Princesses are allowed to become warriors. Who ever heard of a knight becoming a dressmaker?”
“You can be the first one, like Great Aunt Matilda. She was the first woman warrior in history, and look at how everyone reveres her now. And it isn’t as if men can’t be dressmakers; all the tailors in the palace are male. If you do a good job, the future king and queen will thank you for it. They will.”
Ari finished with a stamp of her foot. “So, are you going to, or not?”
Ari headed towards the royal menagerie, a smile playing on her lips. She even felt like whistling—if she knew how.
&nb
sp; She had just seen Lance properly installed in the tailors’ wing a while ago. She had walked in inflexibly and announced that she had found an immensely talented dressmaker who could restore Valeria’s gown to its former pristine condition. She had given an account of how Lance fixed her lavender gown, despite it being badly burnt, and declared that he would use his expertise to do the same with Princess Valeria’s wedding dress.
People had stared at her, dumbstruck. Peregrine had stood up and pointed a quivering finger at Lance.
“Him? I do not mean to question your sanity, Princess Arianna of Linderall, but that lad is from a noble family! Do you mean that a boy, bred in privilege, can possess the meticulous skills of the needle and thread?”
“He can and he does,” Ari retorted. “I can show you how he mended my gown. I couldn’t even tell that it was altered.”
“I haven’t time to deal with your things; I have to sew the future queen’s wedding gown,” Peregrine said, turning his back at her. “Now, where are the fabrics we’ve been talking about? Wait! What are you doing? Put the dress down!”
But Lance had already laid his eyes on Valeria’s chocolate-stained gown and was examining it, his brow deeply furrowed. Instead of the bored expression he wore in combat classes, there was a glint in his eyes as he gazed at the gown.
“A pretty mess, but not all hope is lost,” he said, running his fingers over the smooth white silk. “If we take some material from the train and use it to patch up the front, it should cover the stains well enough.”
“Are you out of your mind?” a seamstress spoke up. “The dress is already damaged, and now you want to cut up the train as well?”
“Bah! The train is already too long anyway,” another seamstress said. “Princess Valeria would probably trip on it when walking down the aisle. We might as well save her the embarrassment.”
Lance then went on to point out other things that could be done to the waist, the hem, the neckline—all the areas that the chocolate had made a mark. Ari was gratified to see the people nodding to his suggestions.
“All right with him?” she whispered to Peregrine.
“Fine,” he said grudgingly.
When Ari left, one of the maids asked if she could find Prince James.
“He still hasn’t come to try his outfit for the wedding. We have his measurements, but he could be taller than when we last measured him. We don’t want to have the sleeves too short, or the material too tight on his shoulders.”
Ari rolled her eyes, but agreed to seek out James and frog march him back to the tailor’s wing. She had now grown used to his unruly hair and barely noticed his rumpled clothes, but she would not allow him to appear as his usual self in the wedding. It was going to be a formal ceremony involving countries around the world. He should at least make an effort to look tidy and respectable, even if he was only a second son with no claim to the throne.
She found him at the royal menagerie, tending to a huge, fierce-looking griffin. It was as big as a cottage, with an eagle-like head and elongated ears. A curved horn protruded from its forehead and gleamed in the sun.
Ari involuntarily backed away, making sure to keep a considerable distance between her and the griffin. She watched as James petted the griffin’s beak, while Brucie, his pet squirrel, remained comfortably perched on the prince’s shoulder, apparently not at all intimidated by the huge beast.
“How do you do it?” she asked without thinking. “Tame a wild beast, I mean?”
He turned, and his face lightened up. “Ah, my dear Ari, how lovely to see you. Why, it’s very simple. Allow me to demonstrate the feeding of a griffin.”
Ari was about to retort that she was not anyone’s “dear Ari,” much less his (the nerve of him!), but her attention was soon drawn to his answer.
James picked up a sack from the ground, extracted a large piece of smoked beef, and held it out to the griffin. The powerful beast lowered its head, nipped the meat with its shiny beak, and chewed. When it finished eating, James stretched out his hand and tickled its neck, causing a funny gurgle to emit from its throat.
Ari was impressed. He fed and petted the griffin with natural confidence, as though it were a household pet instead of a ferocious creature.
“Here.” James suddenly handed her the bag. “How about you give Flamewind another piece?”
Ari automatically took a step backward. She was no longer afraid of spiders and rats, but she hadn’t the courage to feed a griffin. In fact, she doubted many people would dare feed one, unless they were crazy folk like James and Great Aunt Matilda.
“Don’t worry. Flamewind doesn’t bite.” James laid a hand on her shoulder. “Unless you come to him armed with spears and swords—but of course you won’t. Griffins are honorable by nature—what is there to be had for attacking a human creature so much smaller and weaker?”
Brucie let out a tiny chuckle.
Ari met Flamewind’s large, yellow eyes. It blinked. Then the griffin’s gaze dropped to the bag she was now holding, staring fixedly at it. She thought she could detect pleading in its gaze.
Ari didn’t know what came over her. She walked forward and drew out a piece of beef. Her wrist shaking, she stretched out towards Flamewind. The griffin’s eyes gleamed; it bent down and Ari shrieked, tossing the meat in the air. Flamewind instantly opened its jaws and caught the meat before it hit the ground.
“Oh...” Ari let out a sigh of relief. She was pathetic, but she had succeeded in feeding the griffin. As she watched Flamewind chew and swallow, she felt a satisfying sense of accomplishment.
“Nice try.” James winked and grinned. “But really, there isn’t any reason to be afraid. People usually think that huge creatures are terrifying, but in fact, most of the time it’s the creatures who should be afraid of us.”
“What do you mean?” Ari said, completely mystified.
“Contrary to popular belief, a lot more griffins are killed than people. Humans are the aggressors; these so-called monsters rarely strike unless they are provoked. Often they possess something valuable. Take dragon blood for example: it’s highly useful for medical studies and supposedly has magical qualities as well. So humans have been killing dragons to get their blood. Other parts of the dragon can also fetch ludicrously high prices on the market.”
Ari watched Flamewind, who was now yawning. Its bright golden wings were drooping, and it was blinking slowly, as though it had trouble keeping awake. Probably it was ready to nap after a meal. She began to see some sense in James’ words.
Suddenly, she remembered that she wasn’t here for a lesson in animals.
“Tell me more another time, but I came here with a mission. You should go up to the palace tailor’s to make sure your outfit for the wedding is all right.”
James’ shoulders sagged. “I just knew you didn’t seek me out for my pleasurable company.”
“Don’t be a goose,” Ari snapped. “It’s your brother’s wedding. Should you not show that you care about his big event?”
“My affection is not expressed through such superfluous means.”
“Clothes aren’t superfluous,” Ari argued. “Suppose Valeria were to wear a gown with chocolate spilled on the front. Would you deem that acceptable?”
James yawned, as though infected by Flamewind. “All right, all right. I’ll go, but only on one condition. I need some particular incentive for dressing up in a stiff collar and bow tie.”
Ari folded her arms and waited, wondering what absurd request he had. Bring an entire herd of griffins to the palace, perhaps?
“Save your first dance for me at the ball.”
Her jaw almost dropped. “You can dance?”
He put a hand over his heart, as though wounded. “But of course I can, dear princess from Linderall. It’s part of our education—whether we like it or not.”
Still, Ari found it strange that he would request a dance from her. He seemed more like a person to keep away from the crowds, rather than leading a lady to the d
ance floor.
Still, if it meant that he’d take the effort to be properly groomed—why not?
“All right, I promise you,” she said. “Now, will you go?”
He grinned, obviously pleased that she said yes.
“This very instant.” He swept her a magnificent bow—a gesture done so perfectly that they might as well be on the dance floor.
Then he straightened up, gave her one of his roguish winks, and left abruptly.
Ari stared after him, unable to speak for a moment.
He was right; he could dance.
Eight: The Royal Wedding
Due to the upcoming wedding, the palace was awash in a frenzy of excitement. Extra accommodation for foreign guests had to be prepared, colorful banners and tapestries were hung all over the walls and pillars, the great hall where Valeria and Ralph were to be married was splendidly decked out in red roses and golden leaves (colors of Riviera), the kitchens were bursting from the amount of food they had to prepare, and the dressmakers were frantic with all the sewing and hemming for new outfits.
Even the Academy was caught up in the excitement. Despite the unspoken rule for modesty and humility, most of the pupils were, after all, from privileged families, and were anticipating the grandiose activities. Those who came from foreign countries were especially looking forward to seeing their family members.
Ari was disappointed to learn that her father would not be attending the wedding. He was too busy to make the long journey, though he had sent a letter expressing his hope that she was faring well at the Academy. He also added that if she truly did not find Rivieran life to her liking, he would write to Great Aunt Matilda and try to persuade her to let Ari return.
Ari felt slightly relieved upon reading that she could go back to Linderall, but to her own surprise, she did not dance around with joy. In fact, gazing around the neat little room that she shared with Georgiana and Marcella, it struck her that she had grown so used to the place that she no longer saw it as ugly and unfriendly.