Princesses Don't Fight in Skirts

by Aya Ling

  Effie looked disappointed, but seeing the uncharacteristic harshness in his eyes, she scurried off.

  Ari felt the pressure on her arm lessen. With a move that would make Giles proud, she pulled her arm from his grasp.

  “James, what are you doing? What happened?”

  They had reached the end of the corridor, which was a dead end. Several servants and courtiers passed by, glancing at them curiously, but James gave them the same harsh look as he had given Effie, and they hurried away.

  “Well...” James looked at her directly in the eye. “Ari, I hate to tell you this, but we’ve received news that Linderall is under attack.”

  Ari stared. An attack? Impossible! There hadn’t been a war in Linderall since Great Aunt Matilda defeated the Dark Lord and his army in the mountains. Linderall was not rich in natural resources or skillful labor; there was little to gain from raiding the country. Makani, Amaranta, or any of the former Rivieran colonies would be a wiser choice. The only reason Linderall was attacked by the Dark Lord was due to its location; to reach other countries, the Dark Lord had to go through Linderall first.

  “We are still unsure if this is the same as what happened in Tintagel, but it seems very likely. A friend of mine works on the border of Tintagel and Linderall, and he said that a herd of dragons has been sighted in the sky.”

  “Dragons?” Ari echoed. “But you said that dragons, and griffins, and most other magical creatures—they don’t attack unless provoked. And I can’t believe that Father would deliberately harm the dragons.”

  “It sounds weird indeed, so that is why we have been discussing it for so long. We plan to ride out to Linderall as soon as possible. Whatever the problem is with the dragons, we must do our best to ensure that no further damage is done to either side.” James patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Ari. Lady Matilda must be on her way as well. It will be all right.”

  He left her standing in the corridor, still numb with shock.

  She couldn’t go to Linderall. She couldn’t.

  Ari sat morosely on the bed, knees drawn up to her chin. Since James had informed her about the dragons, anxiety had been gnawing in the back of her head. The prospect of the debutante ball was dimmed; she wanted to rush home and see for herself that her father, her people, her lands, were safe from harm.

  “Ari?” Marcella said, approaching her. “Your face is pale. You have something on your mind.”

  “She’s probably nervous about going to the debutante ball with Lord Simon,” Georgiana said, pulling on her leather boots. “I say not to worry; it’s not as if you don’t know how to dress or act. You’re a princess; they are the ones who should be worrying about how to serve you. Come on, we have Ulaf for the first class. You know how he yells if we’re late!”

  Marcella wasn’t convinced. “You are worried,” she repeated.

  “Oh, it’ll be over soon,” Ari said quickly, though what “it” referred to, she didn’t even know herself.

  She was rather listless in Ulaf’s class, despite her usual position in the front row.

  “Thrust the tip of your sword forward, girlie, don’t just poke it like you’re stoking a fire!” he growled. “What is this move—you call it a sword thrust? Are you trying to tickle your opponent instead of knocking them out?”

  Ari gritted her teeth and banished all thoughts of Linderall from her mind. Gripping Great Aunt Matilda’s old sword, she swung her arm and thrust. The sword sliced through the air, as though she was trying to saw it in half.

  “Now that’s more like it,” Ulaf said. “Keep it up, keep it up!”

  After a while of mind-numbing repetitions of the sword move, Ari’s mind reeled back to Linderall. She also thought of Flamewind, whom James had said resembled a large dragon in size and strength. Were Flamewind to go berserk, how many people would it take to stop him?

  When Ulaf called for a break, telling them that he was going to show them a variation of the thrust, Ari found herself asking, “Is this sufficient to take down a dragon?”

  Since everyone was focused on Ulaf’s demonstration, her voice sounded louder than usual.

  “Princess Arianna!” Ulaf lowered his sword and squinted at her. “Are you talking about dragons?”

  Ari decided that she might as well ask, since everyone had heard her.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but obviously it’s something ridiculous! What are you, a lowly first year? Even if you possess the same extraordinary talent as your great aunt—which you don’t—it would take you at least five years before you could think about facing a dragon! It’s not as simple as what you read in storybooks! Stop being naïve! Concentrate on your sword work!”

  Boris snickered. Ari ignored him.

  “But sir, if it’s a group of well-trained people...”

  “Get going with your sword work!” Ulaf thundered, waving his sword. “Let’s hear no more of this nonsense!”

  Ari returned to her room, her arms sore and her legs numb. Even though she had now improved immensely, it did not mean that she was exempt from the cramps and bruises and blisters that accompanied hard work. What had changed was that she had learned to deal better with pain—instead of whining and cursing Great Aunt Matilda—she headed directly to the small basin of water that Henrietta put in their rooms every day. Adding a pinch of herbs, she lowered her hands in the water and soaked them. Much better.

  She needed a break. She had been at the Academy for nearly a year, and while she no longer tried to escape the place, she felt rather weary. However, looking back at the year that had passed, Ari did not feel any regret, bruises and all.

  A while later, Henrietta entered with a small bundle under her arms.

  “Milady.” She laid the bundle on Ari’s bed. “’Tis your dress; Master Lance has done what you asked. It’s beautiful, if I may say,” she added, in her shy, quiet manner.

  “Thank you, Henrietta,” Ari said. “By the way, would you like to have this?” She rummaged in her chest and brought out a set of bright ribbons the colors of daffodils and forget-me-nots. “I got these on sale in Market Square, and I already have too many ribbons. No offense, but your hair could use some bright colors.”

  “Oh, but I can’t,” Henrietta protested, but Ari pressed the ribbons in her hand. “Yes, you can. Unless you share the same sentiment as some of the Academy girls? That dressing up is too frivolous, that wearing makeup is evil?”

  Henrietta shook her head. “Thank you, milady. ’Tis lovely of you.”

  “Good.” Ari smiled. “Wear these on May Day, or whatever festival you have here, or just when you feel like it.”

  After Henrietta left the room, Ari caught up the dress and shook it out.

  She uttered a small gasp. No wonder Henrietta, shy as she was, had to offer a compliment.

  Over the crimson silk, Lance had used golden threads to embroider patterns of birds and flowers and trees. But it was not just the embroidery; in the heart of every flower, he embedded tiny pearls, just like when he fixed up Valeria’s wedding dress. There was a faint, yet pleasant fragrance from the dress as well, as though someone had soaked it in scented water.

  Ari slipped into the crimson gown, flung a shawl around her shoulders, and flew to the mirror. She pulled out the hairpins and ribbons that bound her hair tightly, and let her luxurious golden tresses spill over her shoulders, mingling with the golden thread on the front.

  She felt like a princess. Well, she was a princess, but it had been some time since she felt like one.

  “I’m going to that debutante ball,” she said aloud. “No use running back home. As Ulaf said, I am a long way off from fighting dragons.”

  Eleven: More Disaster

  The day of the debutante ball arrived.

  Once she finished dinner, Ari hurried back to her room to change. She tossed away her uniform and boots and brought out the elegant crimson gown, admiring the tucked folds and tapered waist. She settled before t
he mirror and proceeded with her cosmetics with utmost care. Besides applying basic skin cream and face powder, she used a new kind of kohl—it was of a deep purple color, mixed with a sparkling paint, so that when she smudged her eyelids with the kohl, an extra dazzle was added to her eyes.

  Although Ari was now more adept at doing her own hair, Henrietta volunteered to help her. The maid brushed Ari’s hair and held it in place as she secured it with scarlet ribbons and strings of pearls. A set of diamond earrings and a diamond necklace completed her attire.

  “How do I look?” Ari said, standing up and spreading out her massive skirts.

  “Lovely.”

  “Not bad.”

  Georgiana and Marcella had entered, and both gave Ari appreciative looks.

  “You look positively stunning,” Georgiana said admiringly. “The way you do your hair, all twisted up and entwined with pearls, is really eye-catching.”

  “Oh, it’s mostly Henrietta’s doings,” Ari said, gesturing towards the blushing maid. “She saw a number of court ladies with this hairstyle and she figured out how to do it.”

  “Nice work, Henrietta!” Georgiana said. “If you’re ever bored with the work here, I can introduce you to my sisters and cousins. They’d be glad to have extra help with their hair.”

  Henrietta smiled shyly. “Thank you, milady, but currently I’m happy here.” A blush tinted her cheeks.

  Ari was still preening in front of the small mirror at the wash stand. If it wasn’t for Academy rules that all rooms must consist of the same furnishings, she would have sneaked in a floor-length mirror. She was tired of moving and turning multiple times so she could check every part of her body.

  Her old irritation of the Academy flared up. For a moment, she felt that it was just as well that Simon was attracted to her. He was her hope of leaving the school.

  Holding her skirts carefully, Ari made her way out of the Academy. She had engaged a carriage to convey her to Simon’s mansion at one of the palace entrances. One of the guards questioned her, but Ari showed her invitation, which bore the Wesley insignia, and was grudgingly allowed to leave.

  When she lifted her skirts and made to enter the carriage, Ari noticed Howard behind her.

  “I’m going to a ball,” Ari said, waving the gold-stamped envelope at him. “I’m not trying to run away, Howard. Go home.”

  He made a sign with his hands. Linderall.

  Ari felt a pang of guilt but she quashed it. “Howard, I know what you mean but I don’t think it’s practical. Even if there is a dragon, I can’t go. My skills—although much improved—aren’t going to help much. Great Aunt Matilda is on her way, and James is going as well. They’re both much more experienced than I, I’d only be in the way.”

  The giant lowered his hands and stepped back, but his expression remained unhappy.

  “We’ll go home soon, I promise,” Ari said, looking at him directly in the eye. “The Academy year is almost done; they will give us a long holiday. We’ll return to Linderall then.”

  “Princess Arianna?” the footman bowed. “Sorry to interrupt, but if you want to reach Lord Simon’s mansion by seven, then you had better hurry.”

  “Oh!” Ari turned on her heel and scrambled into the carriage. Pulling back the lacy curtains, she waved at Howard and motioned him to leave. “I’ll be back before midnight!” she called.

  The carriage drew up in front of the Wesley mansion. The coachman opened the door and Ari stepped out, careful not to ruffle her skirts.

  Looking up at the mansion, a tingle of excitement ran through her. The mansion was large and well-built, with rows and rows of windows glowing with warm lamplight. The chilly night air made her pull her shawl more snugly around her bare arms. Sounds of music and laughter wafted from within.

  “Princess Arianna,” the butler acknowledged her with a stiff bow. “Please follow me. His Lordship will be pleased to know you have arrived.”

  Simon soon appeared, looking very handsome in a black overcoat and white collar.

  “You look splendid,” he said, looking at her with unmistakable admiration. “I am truly fortunate to be blessed with such an attractive partner.”

  Ari blushed, though she was secretly pleased. Of course she would look splendid, given the amount of time she spent deciding what to wear and applying her cosmetics.

  “May I present this to your sister?” she asked, holding out a small box bound with pink ribbons. “Just a little gift to congratulate her on her foray into womanhood.”

  “Cecelia is still preparing for her ‘grand entrance,’” he replied, smiling. “But thank you very much for the generosity, Arianna.”

  Simon called a maid servant and bade her to take Ari’s present and put it away. Then he held out his arm.

  “Allow me the honor of escorting you.”

  They passed through the parlor, where Ari had her coat taken, and then into a spacious hallway. Refreshments were laid on a long table.

  “Would you care for a tea cake?” Simon asked, gesturing towards the table. “We had Princess Valeria supervise the menu before ordering.”

  “Then I must sample it,” Ari laughed. But before she could take a bite, a voice interrupted them.

  “Simon!” A middle-aged lady, very fashionably attired in a cream-colored brocaded gown, hurried toward him. “Have you seen your brother? He ought to have been here half an hour ago.”

  “No, Mother, but you know Malcolm is rarely punctual,” Simon said. “I’ve dispatched a servant to find and bring him, so he should be arriving any time.”

  Lady Wesley sighed. “And this young lady with you...”

  “Princess Arianna of Linderall,” Simon said, puffing up his chest with pride. “She has accepted my request to be my partner for tonight. I’ve been meaning to introduce her to you, but as she is currently a pupil at the Academy, she does not have much time to leave the grounds.”

  “The... Academy?” Lady Wesley looked startled for a second, but soon pasted a smile on her face, which did not seem as welcoming as her son’s. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Highness. We are honored that you are able to attend Cecilia’s debutante ball.”

  Ari curtsied, wondering why Lady Wesley’s reception was more lukewarm than expected. Was Linderall too distant to be of any importance? Or had Lady Wesley heard of her misbehavior at Valeria’s wedding?

  “I really should be finding Malcolm, so I’ll be off now,” Lady Wesley said, dusting off some cake crumbs that had somehow flicked onto her skirts. “Enjoy yourselves.”

  She bustled off, her polished shoes clicking loudly on the floor.

  “I thought the debutante ball was more about your sister?” Ari said in a low voice.

  Simon sighed. “Of course it is, but Mother’s always worried about Malcolm. She has been trying to secure a suitable wife for him, but so far there hasn’t been much success. I’m sorry to say that he is not exactly ideal husband material; the lures of the gambling house and bars are hard for him to resist.”

  Ari nodded in sympathy. She also reflected on how different brothers can be—James looked like Ralph, but their personalities could not be more different.

  Inside the ballroom, the guests were gathered along the walls and in the corners, leaving a wide open space in the middle.

  “After Cecilia is introduced, along with her escort,” Simon explained to Ari, “the dancing commences.”

  Ari gazed around her in delight. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, which was painted in pastel colors of cherubs and clouds, and silken tapestries depicting great battles and technological advancement adorned the walls. The female guests were all dressed in the latest Rivieran fashion—full skirts with tucked folds, tapered waists, shawls or scarves over bare arms, hair piled high on the head and bound with pearls and ribbons.

  While still admiring her surroundings, she heard a few familiar voices.

  “I wonder what Cecelia will be wearing?”

  “Isn’t it tradition for d
ebutantes to wear pink?”

  “Yes, but things are changing, especially now that more and more girls are eschewing too feminine colors. Emerald-green and sky-blue have been recent trends, I know my elder cousin wore green for her debutante...”

  Looking around, Ari discovered the same trio of court ladies who had squabbled in front of the dressmakers’ wing. She recognized one of them as Lydia, the same lady who had walked up boldly to James.

  There was the sound of trumpets, and she heard the trio whisper, “It’s time for her appearance.”

  Ari craned her neck. A hush fell over the crowd; it was similar to when Valeria and Ralph opened the dance.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” someone announced loudly. “Allow me to present to you Lady Cecelia Wesley!”

  Amid tumultuous applause, Simon led a lovely woman in a brilliant turquoise gown into the room. The overskirts of her gown were slit open to reveal embroidered underskirts, which Ari was certain to be Lance’s work—intricate floral patterns laced with beads.

  Simon led his sister to a good-looking young man, and the two began to dance. Ari adjusted her shawl and watched Cecelia dance with her escort. Her arms were still sore from the exercise they had today, and she had to take care not to touch the bruise on her thigh—courtesy of a mock duel with Boris.

  This was the life she had always wanted: parties and dancing, and being courted by an admiring suitor. Still, a small part in her mind nagged her about the situation in Linderall.

  Forget about it, she told herself. She had now achieved what she wanted—a devoted young man who came from a respectable, wealthy Rivieran family. And what use was it to go to Linderall? Great Aunt Matilda and James would take care of the matter. They were the experts; she’d only be in the way.

  “Arianna?” Simon touched her arm. “Would you like to dance?”

  “I’d be happy to,” Ari replied, giving him a bright smile.

  They waltzed on the dance floor. Ari danced exceedingly well—graceful, poised, skillful. Simon, on the other hand, moved rather stiffly. She supposed that it was due to him being at the University. He was probably more at ease with books and learning than physical activity.