Princesses Don't Fight in Skirts

by Aya Ling

  One day, after another long succession of exhausting lessons, Ari returned to their sleeping quarters, ready to collapse.

  “Ari?” Georgiana held out an armful of pink material. “Does this look better?”

  Ari looked over the dress. The gaudy bow had disappeared, and an additional white silken embroidered overskirt was attached to the waist, though slashes in the overskirt revealed the original deep pink skirt underneath. The puffy sleeves were completely removed, leaving the arms bare.

  “So much better, but—” Ari frowned, fingering the overskirt. The white silk looked somewhat familiar. “I have to see Lance.”

  The tailors’ wing was just as hectic as last time she visited. Seamstresses and servant maids rushed around, panting and wiping their foreheads. One nearly ran into Ari, who dodged just in time. A few nodded to her, but most were too busy to pay attention to her.

  Ari found Lance sitting with a group of seamstresses, working away on embroidering the wedding dress. It was quite easy to spot his blond, curly head. His fingers flew over the white silk, deftly weaving the needle in and out. Ari noticed that the train of the dress had been shortened considerably.

  “Hello,” she said gaily. “I see you’re settling in fine? How is the wedding dress coming along?”

  “It’s all right,” he mumbled, not looking up.

  “By the way,” Ari lowered her voice. “You didn’t happen to fix Georgiana’s dress, did you? That overskirt added over it, was it from...”

  She didn’t finish her sentence. A maid had gasped, her scissors falling on the floor with a loud clatter.

  A burly man strode into the room: Sir Greenwood, looking as black as a thundercloud and seeming capable of spitting lightning sparks.

  “Is my son here?” he demanded, the tone of his voice ringing off the walls.

  Lance’s hand shook. A drop of blood appeared on the silk.

  “Sir Greenwood?” Peregrine stood up, wiping his palms on his robes. Sir Greenwood looked quite capable of knocking him out in one blow. “If you would step over here and let me explain—”

  “I’m looking for my son,” Greenwood said brusquely, scanning the room with an eagle’s eye. “LANCE! What are you doing there? Get up and come with me this instant!”

  Lance hastily stood up, tripping over his stool and nearly toppling over himself. Ari quickly grabbed his arm and pushed him back to a sitting position.

  “Stay,” she hissed. There was no way she would let him give up, just when he was fixing Valeria’s dress.

  Greenwood, who was waiting impatiently for Lance to leave, immediately noticed Ari.

  “What are you doing here?” he growled.

  Although he looked downright unfriendly, and his figure was huge and intimidating, Ari only returned his gaze coolly. She was a princess, after all. Men like Greenwood had served her when she was still a young girl. She had been more afraid of spiders and bugs than heavyset men. Besides, Greenwood didn’t come close to Howard’s height.

  Ari flipped her golden hair. “Sir Greenwood, I entreat you to leave Lance as he is. It was my recommendation that he lend a helping hand to Princess Valeria’s wedding dress.”

  “Preposterous!” Spittle flew from Greenwood’s mouth. Luckily, Ari had enough experience in Ulaf’s class and evaded in time. “What gives you the right to encourage MY SON to undertake such a... an effeminate task?”

  “Because he mended my dress,” Ari said, folding her arms. “I thought I was going to have to throw my dress away, but Lance did such a marvelous job that I wondered why he hadn’t put his skills to use earlier.”

  Greenwood’s grim expression grew darker. “I will NOT have my son straying into feminine arts! There are plenty of tailors available! I shall personally see that the city’s best tailors be called into the palace.”

  “But sir, it isn’t just a simple matter of the dress itself,” Ari said, trying to contain her irritation. “Lance is extremely talented. Do you not feel that it would be a huge pity if he were forced to stay at the Academy?”

  The two glared at each other. Peregrine was torn between the desire to fetch help and the anxiety that Greenwood and Ari might break into battle, seeing that both of them were carrying swords. Most of the tailors and seamstresses cowered behind their spinning wheels and dress materials. As for Lance, he looked as though he wanted the floor to swallow him up.

  “Indeed it would,” someone said.

  Princess Valeria appeared in the doorway. Her hair was braided and twisted on top of her head, probably to keep more food from messing up her hair, and she was wearing a large shapeless linen smock which was smudged with sauce and cream. Ari had to roll her eyes; she had never seen such atrocious apparel. For once, she agreed with the ladies who had questioned Ralph’s choice of his bride.

  Valeria walked right up to Greenwood, who went red and quickly bowed in respect. The rest of the people also bowed or curtsied to the future Rivieran queen.

  “Sir Greenwood, my sincere apologies, since I am the cause of this conflict,” Valeria said softly. “It is my fault that I have made so much extra work for Master Peregrine and his crew. I have thus decided to punish myself by wearing this hideous frock, though it seems I’m punishing more people by giving them a sore sight for their eyes.” She winked at Ari, who couldn’t help returning a grin.

  Greenwood, however, remained grim. “There is no need to apologize, Your Highness. I was merely here to find my son, who should be at the Academy.”

  “Oh, yes, I’ve heard about him,” Valeria said. “I do not mean to interfere, but sir, will you not at least let Lance finish what he has started? I will talk to Darwar and let him know about the special circumstances.” Crossing over to Lance, she bent down and fluffed out the sash that he was working on.

  “Exquisite,” she breathed. “Utterly lovely, this piece of silk. I know much less about clothes than I do of food, but I love this dress. Won’t you please allow Lance to let me look my best on my wedding day?”

  Greenwood looked uncomfortable. He had been prepared to grab Lance by the collar and haul him back to the Academy. But this intervention—first by that bossy Linderall girl, and now by Princess Valeria herself—was not what he expected. Being a seasoned veteran, he could face an army of fierce warriors. He could climb down a steep cliff. He could swim through a river in a mighty storm. But he couldn’t find a way to say no to the smiling young woman in front of him.

  “Very well, the boy can stay if he wants. Glad that Your Highness has found him useful.” Greenwood bowed again, and this time he noticed the long, gleaming sword hanging on Ari’s belt.

  “Isn’t that Lady Matilda’s?” he suddenly said, fixing his gaze on Ari.

  “She gave it to me.” Ari lifted her chin. “I am her great niece, after all.”

  Greenwood’s brow furrowed. With her delicate features and rippling golden hair, she did not look the least like a warrior, even when wearing the Academy uniform.

  Shaking his head, he strode away. Young ladies these days... he would never understand them. But then, he had a son who wanted to be a tailor instead of a knight.

  The wedding day arrived.

  No one was more excited than Her Royal Highness Arianna—except for the bride and groom. Since she had never attended an international event, Ari was brimming with anticipation. She had seen how magnificent the throne room was. Now she looked forward to seeing the great hall, where weddings were held, and the grand ballroom where the crown prince and his new bride would open the ball with a dance. Visions of herself clad in her lovely lavender gown, a gold-and-glass necklace glistening on her neck, round luminous pearls glowing from her ear lobes, the lacy hems of her gown flying to reveal the matching amethyst slippers, made her pause now and then during her training. Her archery work the day before, for example, did not show its usual accuracy. Once when an arrow flew under the target, the male students began hollering to each other to keep out of the way, lest anyone end up with the same fate as Boris Quelan
.

  When the sun was barely beginning to shine in the east, Ari dragged herself out of bed and settled before the wash basin and mirror. She opened her massive makeup box, which was packed with jars and bottles, and uttered a prayer of thanks that she hadn’t lost them when she was robbed.

  Halfway through, there was a noise of someone stirring.

  “A... Ari?” Marcella said groggily. “You... up already?”

  “But of course,” Ari said severely, dabbing more face powder on her cheeks. “You didn’t assume I was going to buy a pretty dress and that was the end of it?”

  “But... it’s still so early,” Georgiana murmured, peeking out of the blankets. She rubbed her eyes. “Ari, are you putting on makeup?”

  Ari rolled her eyes and held up her brush in plain view. “Ladies, I believe you should be out of bed soon as well. Look, sunlight is flooding in the window already.”

  “I don’t want to be a lady,” Georgiana muttered, but she climbed out of bed.

  Ari heard rustles of silk and sounds of grumbling like “Where do I put my arm?” “Curse this sash!” coming from behind the changing screen, and permitted herself a small grin. Today was her turn to show off her skills.

  She quickened her pace with the kohl brush, combed her hair, and fixed it in the most becoming hairstyle she could manage, and added the finishing touches. She put on her mother’s silver bracelet for luck. When she was done, she stood up and surveyed herself in the small mirror. It only showed a part of her body, so she had to move around a lot to make sure every inch of her was faultless. Nevertheless, Ari was quite pleased with the results. She could pass for any fashionable lady at court.

  “All right,” she turned and gestured towards the stool. “Georgiana, do you want to go first?”

  Her roommates stared.

  “What are you talking about?” Georgiana said.

  “You have to do something with your makeup, of course. And your hairstyle.”

  More blank stares.

  “What? Do you mean you’re seriously thinking of attending the wedding without fixing your hair and doing your face?”

  “I have a dress,” Georgiana said uncertainly. “Isn’t that enough? Don’t tell me that you have to put makeup on me as well?”

  “Yes,” Ari said firmly, putting her hands over hips. “Why don’t you come over and let me show you? Look, since you made the effort to shop for a dress, why not give it your all?”

  Georgiana looked doubtful. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m not pretty. Mother always said my nose was too large and my forehead too high.”

  “All the more reason that you should make the effort, then,” Ari said, taking a comb and running it through Georgiana’s hair. “You know, I’ve always thought that you’d look much better with a bang. It’ll cover your high forehead nicely.”

  “Um... I don’t know...”

  “Hold the mirror for me, and keep it steady. Don’t move or you’ll have a zigzagging fringe on your forehead.”

  Ari got a pair of scissors from her sewing basket. Years of doing embroidery had made her fingers nimble, and as long as Georgiana did not budge, she was able to cut a nice, thick bang. It fell a little past Georgiana’s eyebrows, making her long face seem smaller and more attractive.

  Satisfied, Ari proceeded to apply scented rosewater over Georgiana’s face, followed by a layer of face powder. Then she painted kohl on Georgiana’s eyelids. She dabbed red lipstick on the girl’s mouth and finished with a bit of rouge on her cheeks, lending a rosy glow to her usually sallow skin.

  “Open your eyes.”

  Georgiana did, and the mirror she was holding crashed into her lap.

  Ari sighed and picked up the mirror, forcing Georgiana to hold it steady in her hands.

  “Yes, that person in the mirror is you,” she said, before Georgiana could utter a word. “Lady Georgiana Greenwood—yes, I’m calling you by your real name—daughter of the famous Greenwoods, one of the best first-year students at the Academy. You’re beautiful. Now stand up and take a turn.”

  Georgiana gingerly got to her feet, doing her best not to step on the hem of her dress.

  Marcella gaped.

  Ari folded her arms and smirked, feeling like the fairy godmother she had read about in storybooks.

  “So what do you say, Marcella? Let me also give you a makeover.”

  Ari had memorized the entire routine of the wedding day. First, the grand ceremony in the morning, the sumptuous banquet that followed, performances of singing and acting after the feast, and finally, the ball. She wondered when Great Aunt Matilda would show up, and found that she was actually not averse to the idea of seeing the old lady again.

  It was boring sitting in the audience and waiting for Princess Valeria to arrive; the pages were still ushering in many guests from other countries. Ari let her gaze rove over the Rivierans, the Tintagels, and other peoples, taking in their attire and appearances.

  It was easy to see how James became so unconventional. The people from Makani dressed in flamboyant robes decorated with feathers and horns. More interestingly, each Makani noble carried some sort of animal on his shoulder. The ambassador, for example, had a chattering monkey that was happily snacking on a piece of candied fruit.

  James appeared, looking positively ravishing in formal wear. He shook hands with the ambassador and said some words in Makani, which no one apart from Makani people understood. When he finished talking, he caught Ari staring. He grinned and winked at her before striding to the altar to take his place as the best man.

  Finally, Princess Valeria appeared, resplendent in her sparkling white satin wedding dress. The front of her original dress had been removed and replaced with a new piece of exquisite white silk that was taken from the train. Lance and the palace tailors had sewn numerous tiny bows and laces along the sides of the silk, so that it joined seamlessly with the entire dress. The silk itself was adorned with diamonds and pearls, woven with a silvery thread that formed patterns of roses and leaves. Indeed, Ari found herself thinking that she should hire Lance to make her dresses in the future. He was really too good to be a traditional knight.

  “Beautiful,” she heard murmurs of approval running through the audience. Ari wanted to see Sir Greenwood’s expression, but he was too far away.

  When Valeria swept across the aisle, her expression radiant and confident, she met Ari’s eye and smiled broadly.

  And so the Rivieran crown prince and his bride were married in great splendor and pomp.

  The wedding feast that followed was superb, including dishes not just from Riviera, but many from Tintagel, Amaranta, Makani, and even Linderall. There were also many unrecognizable dishes, which were said to be creative fusions of different cuisines, created by Princess Valeria herself.

  But what Ari was looking forward to most was the ball. At last, this was her chance. With any luck, she might attract the attention of a Rivieran or even a Tintagel noble, and be delivered from this hell of an Academy forever.

  The ballroom was brightly lit with glittering chandeliers and flaming torches. Colorful banners streamed from the walls; porcelain vases overflowing with roses and lilacs were set on side tables, and well-groomed pages bustled around, offering drinks and small appetizers like asparagus wrapped in bacon and quail eggs. The smell of perfume and cologne, as well as the savory smell of bacon, and the sound of melodious music drifting from the entourage of royal musicians, armed with violins and flutes and drums, permeated the air.

  Ari looked around, her eyes sparkling. The ballroom attendants consisted mostly of Rivieran court nobles and delegations from other foreign countries, and all of them were dressed splendidly, even though there were distinct differences in their hairstyles and gowns. Most of the people from the Academy were present. Ari was gratified to see Ulaf in formal attire, looking quite out of place and uncomfortable. It was the only time she saw him without a weapon.

  This was what she had always wanted. To party and dance, not mixin
g up with swords and combat.

  Prince Ralph and Princess Valeria entered hand in hand, and the crowd parted to allow them space in the middle of the dance floor. Once the royal couple started to dance, the music resumed and more couples drifted to the center.

  “May I have the honor of a dance, milady?” a deep male voice said.

  Ari swiftly turned, a smile ready on her face. To her surprise and humiliation, she discovered that the question was directed to Georgiana, who was looking uncomfortable. A good-looking young man bowed to her with unmistakable admiration in his eyes.

  Ari gave her a sharp jab on the back. Taken by surprise, Georgiana stumbled forward, teetering on her heels, and the young man caught her in his arms, though not before her lipstick left an imprint on his shirt front.

  “Goodness, I’m so sorry!” Georgiana blurted, quickly righting herself.

  “Don’t worry about it. Are you all right? Can you still dance?”

  “I’m fine. Perfect.”

  The man smiled and held out his hand. Georgiana took it, but didn’t forget to turn around for the briefest of moments and send a scathing look at Ari. The latter, however, pretended to be interested in the refreshments table and left abruptly.

  Part of her was happy that Georgiana had attracted an admirer, but another part of her was disappointed that her friend was preferred over herself. She knew she wasn’t exceedingly beautiful like Queen Eleanor, and she most likely looked plain without makeup, but surely with the effort she had put in this morning, she had expected at least a couple of invitations.

  “At least this shows my makeup skills are excellent,” she muttered.

  “Good evening, Your Highness,” a familiar voice said. Ari was jolted from her musings, and found herself face to face with James, who was regarding her with a gleam of amused interest.

  “May I inquire what caused your pretty face to scrunch up?” he continued, smiling broadly. “To my knowledge of you, you should be positively enjoying yourself at the sight of such a magnificent ball.”