by Anita Valle
Heidel’s teeth ground together. Yes, her body packed more padding than the other princesses. But she liked it. It made her curves curvier, her stature sturdier. She considered herself a plow horse, strong and solid, so much more useful than her parade pony sisters.
But she had no stomach for teasing.
Worse yet, she had nothing to retort. Eravis was handsome, of normal height and weight. His smile was bright; his gray eyes the sort that made silly maidens wriggle: large and intense. His thick black hair was purposely rumpled, dangling a few wavy locks on his brow.
“Get out of here, Eravis,” Heidel growled. “I have to serve the cake.”
“Oh, is that what you call this frightful confection!” Eravis waved a hand at it, grinning. “Well, I’m sure it was beautiful before the earthquake.”
His words stung her core, like an arrow to the bright red center of a target. She had enjoyed making the Princess-and-the-Pea Cake. She had stacked the ‘mattresses’ - twenty thin layers of cake, each tinted a different color. Covered each with a ‘blanket’ of thick white frosting. Carved a small ‘princess’ from marchpane candy to sleep on the towering bed.
And the cake was hideous.
Somehow, the layers were crooked and cracking. Somehow, the frosting was lumpy and dry. And somehow, the little figure perched on top looked more like an old hunchback than a young princess.
“The recipe was difficult.” Heidel grabbed a short knife off the table and attempted to smooth the frosting. “But I did it for Ivy. She won’t care how it looks.”
“Ivy’s an artist, of course she’ll care.”
“Get out of my kitchen, Eravis.”
Eravis slouched against the table with a quizzical smile. “Your kitchen?”
“Yes. Mine.”
“I thought it was Joc’s kitchen.”
“He left us.”
“So I’ve heard. Along with the entire servant staff!”
“Get out.”
“You must have been very naughty princesses to drive away such loyal servants.”
“We don’t know why they left.”
“Did you beat them?”
“No!”
“Called them ugly names, perhaps? I know that’s a special talent of yours.”
“I never insulted the servants.”
“Ah yes. You save that for royalty.”
“Only certain royalty.”
“And what about the new staff?”
“What new staff?”
“Precisely.”
“We didn’t hire new servants.”
“How intelligent.”
“It was Maelyn’s idea. She wanted us to be independent, able to care for ourselves.”
“That’s absurd.”
“We like it! Most of us, at least. I’m the cook now. Hence, the kitchen is mine and I order you to leave it.”
“With all the respect due to an orphan turned princess turned... dubious baker - you’re crazy.”
Heidel propped the point of her knife in the table and turned to Eravis with a mocking smile. “Speaking of crazy, how is your father?”
It was low, she knew. But it worked. Eravis stiffened, his eyes lost their bluster. “My father is well,” he said coldly.
“Does he still enter the castle through an underground tunnel because he thinks the drawbridge is trying to eat him?”
“Not sure. Do you still think you’ll discover a cure for Red Fever and save the whole world? Not sure how you’ll manage that when you can’t even save your figure-”
Heidel slapped down the knife and faced him, fists clenched. “ERAVIS, GET YOUR MUD-SUCKING FACE OUT OF MY KITCHEN!”
Eravis’ eyes lit with pleasure at her use of the crude word. “Well done, my lady! I’ve never been more proud!”
“GET OUT!” Heidel lunged forward and seized the embroidered collar of his tunic. “Get out or I will make you.” She thrust her face upward, nearly nose-to-nose with his.
Eravis grinned. His hands rose and encircled her wrists, but he didn’t shake her off. “That sounds... invigorating.” His storm-gray eyes burned straight into hers. Challenging her.
“Heidel?” The kitchen door swung inward, admitting Briette. Heidel released Eravis’ collar, her cheeks cooking over again. Briette regarded them with her usual calm, as if nothing were amiss. “They’re ready for the cake.”
“All right.” Heidel shut her eyes and brushed the fringe on her brow to one side. She wasn’t sure why Briette’s appearance had embarrassed her.
“Your Highness!” Eravis made a flourishing bow in Briette’s direction. “Always a pleasure to meet the princess with brains.”
Briette smiled modestly. “Are you tormenting my sister, Eravis?”
“Quite the reverse, she was begging for a hug. That’s why she clung to me so desperately.”
Heidel ground her teeth. The cake stood on a silver platter and she shifted it toward the edge of the table. It was heavier than she’d anticipated.
“What brings you to Runa?” Briette asked.
“I’ve come for the Festival of Fenwick,” said Eravis.
“Fenwick’s Feast,” Heidel corrected, still staring at the cake. She couldn’t carry it alone. “Which is four days hence. Why did you come now?”
“For your delightful company, of course.”
Shifting the cake had caused more cracking. The candy princess lurched to one side. Heidel began to think the dessert was too unsightly to serve.
“Will you be staying in Merridell?” said Briette.
“At first I was. But a very kind lady offered much grander lodgings.”
Heidel wasn’t looking but heard the smugness of his tone. And she knew what it meant.
Eravis would be staying at the castle. Her castle. Of course Maelyn had offered. Always eager to please a neighboring monarch, however putrid his presence might be. This meant a week, at least, of Eravis and his sickening superiority.
Unless – Heidel stared at her cake - she could convince him he wasn’t welcome.
“Well! Eravis.” Heidel forced a lighthearted tone. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked what kind of cake this is.”
Eravis smirked. “I thought we decided ‘cake’ was too generous a word.”
“It’s a Princess-and-the-Pea Cake. See? That’s the princess. And those are the mattresses.”
“Where’s the pea?” Eravis asked.
Heidel smiled. Briette crept forward to join them at the table. Her eyes flicked over Heidel, suspiciously.
“The pea is a round piece of candy, tinted green,” said Heidel. “Normally it’s placed beneath the lowest mattress. But I like to hide it anywhere inside the cake. Whichever guest finds the pea wins a reward. Usually a kiss from the Birthday Princess.”
Eravis snickered. “Don’t serve this cake on your birthday, then. No one will want to find the pea!”
Heidel rolled her eyes. As usual, the jest failed on Briette, who furrowed her brow and said “Why not?”
“Here. Look.” Heidel dropped her voice to a secretive hush. “I’ll show you where I’ve hidden it.”
Eravis stepped beside her. He leaned forward to peer at the cake, lips crooked in a cynical smile. Without the slightest hesitation, Heidel seized the back of his neck and shoved him, face down, into the cake.
Chapter 4
It was the first thing Heidel remembered when she woke the following morning. The cake bursting into chunks. Eravis staggering back, white frosting plastered to his face and hair and perfect clothes. The look of utter shock, followed by murderous rage.
And oh, the language he used!
Heidel grinned.
She always woke just before sunrise, when her bedchamber glowed a faint, ghostly blue, that peaceful lake between black night and golden morning. Though the days neared midsummer, her chamber was cool. The damp evenings washed the sun’s heat from the castle.
Her bare feet slid from the warm bed to the chilly floorboards. By feel more than sight, she be
gan to dress. She couldn’t tell which gown she put on; it would come as a surprise later. A small mirror hung over her wash table and using the weak reflection, Heidel fixed her dark red hair. Her routine here never varied. She brushed the fringe on her brow, the long mane behind, wove it into a thick braid, and then forgot her hair existed.
She descended the main staircase to the castle’s entry hall. The sun had burst through the windows in long sprays of golden light. Heidel glanced at her gown; a pattern of green leaves against a paler green background. Dotted here and there with tiny yellow flowers. She liked this dress.
“Morning, Heidel.” Briette passed at the base of the stairs, the only other princess who rose at this hour. She carried a bucket with lye soap, and a large scrub brush. A floor-length apron covered her yellow gown.
“Where are you working this morning?” Heidel asked.
“Throne room. The floor. I’ll be done before breakfast.”
Heidel didn’t doubt it. Briette worked fast. When the servants had abandoned them, most of the royal sisters had shuddered at the idea of becoming Chamber Princess, responsible for cleaning the castle. But Briette had offered willingly. “No one else could do it to my satisfaction,” she said.
And no one else had argued.
Heidel turned down the corridor that led to the kitchen. At least breakfast would be simple. A platter of pastries remained from last night’s feast. She’d serve them with milk and a large bowl of fruit. But first she’d have to build a fire in the hearth. Haul in buckets of well water to fill the kettle and washtub. Bake the six loaves of bread dough that had risen overnight. Light the torches and candles in the dining hall. Arrange the silver plates on the table. And feed Squire.
Heidel pushed through the swinging door and grabbed her apron off a hook. Squire bounced up from his sprawl before the hearth, nails clicking on stone as he trotted toward her. Heidel rubbed the stiff hairs on his knobby head.
“Morning, Squire! Let’s get to work.”
* * * * * * * * *
“Do any of you have plans for Fenwick’s Feast?” Maelyn asked at breakfast. As eldest princess, she sat at the head of the long oak table. Her eight sisters were divided evenly along the sides. Eravis occupied the foot, but whether he’d wakened cheerful or churlish, Heidel didn’t know. She refused to look at him.
“I have a booth,” said Briette.
“So do I!” Jaedis squealed. This came as no surprise, Jaedis always had a booth. Usually to sell the trinkets and tiaras she’d collected during the year from impulsive purchases.
“Just going for fun,” said Arialain, the youngest princess at fifteen years. “I might do some of the races.”
Heidel had no special plans. It was the food, mainly, that drew her to the festival. Stall after stall of exotic treats, many from faraway realms. She would buy a candied orange. And cheese fritters, scalding hot. And lemon cake, oh joy! She gained a pound just thinking about it.
“What about you, Coco?” Maelyn turned to Coralina who sat across from Heidel. “Are you giving a street play or joining the dances?”
Coralina’s fingernails picked at the flaky crust of her pastry. She shrugged. “Nothing. I may not go this year.”
Maelyn leaned her chin in her palm. “This isn’t because of the carpenter, is it?”
Coralina shook her head, an obvious lie. It had been three months since the carpenter jilted her. With lush black curls and haunting purple eyes, Coralina was known throughout the kingdom as a mesmerizing beauty. And a relentless flirt. But her charms had failed with the only man she ever truly cared for. Only Heidel sensed how much she was hurting.
“If you don’t come, Princess Coralina, then you deny me the pleasure of seeing you dance,” said Eravis, his voice surprisingly kind. “You do it so prettily, it’s like watching a butterfly.”
Coralina looked at him. Her face softened to a grateful smile. “Thank you, Eravis,” she said in her velvety voice.
Good. Good. Let Coco chase after Eravis, Heidel thought. It would help her forget the carpenter. And perhaps keep Eravis distracted from his favorite sport of Heidel-Harassing.
“Now when Heidel dances, it’s like watching a chicken that fell into the wine barrel,” said Eravis. The princesses around the table erupted in high-pitched laughter, even Maelyn, though she bowed her head, trying to conceal it. Heidel ground her teeth and flung a hateful glance at Eravis. He lounged in his chair, dark locks tousled to perfection, fingers twirling his goblet of milk. His gray eyes blazed at Heidel, mirthless and vengeful. The prank with the cake would not go unpunished.
Heidel returned the glare, hoping he understood her meaning.
Do your worst, Mudsucker.
Chapter 5
“Heidel... I think I need....” Ivy lost her voice to an avalanche of coughing as she stumbled into the kitchen. Heidel paused in sweeping the floor. She propped the broom against the stone facing that arched around the hearth.
“Sit. I’ll make the tonic.”
Heidel filled a kettle with water and hung it over the fire. She flung more kindling over the logs until the blaze grew tall and hearty. Ivy leaned her crutch against the worktable and climbed onto a stool. She dropped her head in her hands, closing her eyes to cough with pained weariness.
“I’m so... so tired of it,” said Ivy.
“I know. You’ve had this cough for over a month.” Heidel rolled back her sleeves and dunked her hands into the washtub. It sat on one corner of the table, soaking the breakfast dishes. The hearth fire rumbled behind her, pressing heat against her back and shoulders. Squire, who lounged beneath the table gnawing a leg of mutton, got up and slunk to a cooler patch of floor.
“I’ll never be well,” Ivy mumbled.
“Oh hogs!” said Heidel, scrubbing at a silver plate. “You’ve gotten over worse than this.”
Ivy shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.”
Heidel knew. Ivy would never have perfect health. She’d never walk and breathe with ease, like her sisters. And her frail body frequently succumbed to illness.
But it wasn’t like her to be melancholy.
“Did you enjoy your birthday?” Heidel asked. She plunked a clean plate onto the table and began scrubbing the next one. Trickles of water slid down her arms and dripped from her elbows.
Ivy shrugged. “Most of it.”
“I’m sorry the cake was a failure.”
Ivy didn’t answer. Her face, tilted into her palms, was not fully visible but Heidel detected a bitter twinge to her expression.
“It looked horrible, Ivy.”
“I’m sure it tasted good.”
Heidel barked a laugh. “You’ll have to ask Eravis! He got a good mouthful.”
Ivy didn’t smile. More tired coughs tumbled out of her chest. Heidel turned to check the kettle but the water had not yet boiled. The fire clawed through the logs like an angry cat, hissing and spitting.
Heidel plunked another clean plate onto the table. “All right. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
“I wanted the cake.” Ivy looked at Heidel with eyes of reproach. “It was for me. And my guests. It didn’t have to be perfect.”
“You would’ve been embarrassed-”
“No! You’re not listening!” said Ivy. “I – I wanted Prince Gavin to find the pea. I was going to make sure he did.”
“Gavin?”
Ivy nodded, her eyes softening. Now Heidel understood. If Prince Gavin had found the pea, he would have won the reward.
Ivy had wanted to kiss him.
“Ugh.” Heidel shut her eyes. “I’m sorry, Ivy. And I mean that. But the cake was awful. And Eravis... he just made me so-”
“But that’s the trouble,” said Ivy. “When you’re angry, you do whatever the anger tells you. You don’t think about who it’s hurting.”
Heidel shrugged. “I’ve got a temper. Always have.”
“I heard Eravis was outraged.”
“Demented!” Heidel grinned. “It was beautiful.�
�� A hard snap burst from the fire behind her. One of the logs must have held a pocket of hidden moisture.
Ivy sighed. “Oh Heidel. Insulting a prince like that – it’s enough to cause a war. Do you ever imagine what war must be like? The kingdom burning all around us. The castle smashed to a pile of rubble. Our sisters killed or led away in chains-”
“Holy Teeth, Ivy!” Heidel laughed. “You think about it too much! It isn’t healthy.”
Ivy lowered her face to cough in her sleeve. “I can’t-” (cough, cough) “-help it. I know we’ve-” (cough) “-never had a war-” (cough, cough, cough) “-but....” She gave up and looked at Heidel. “Oh please, when is that drink – OH, HEIDEL! HEIDEL! YOU’RE ON FIRE!”
Heidel looked down, then twisted to check behind her. “OH!” Her face was nearly torched by the frantic flames leaping up from the back of her skirt. She swatted them impulsively, burning the skin on her hand. Most of her lower skirt was ablaze, along with the straw broom she’d set against the hearth.
“The washtub!” Ivy hobbled around the table without using her crutch. She tried to tip the washtub but the dishes weighed it down. “Use a goblet!” Heidel shrieked, grabbing one from the dingy water. They poured cup after cup on Heidel’s skirt but the flames were climbing fast. Searing-hot air surrounded her head, scorching the backs of her ears.
“Your hair is on fire!” Ivy screamed.
Squire stood at a safe distance, barking like thunder. The clamor must have called attention because Briette burst through the kitchen door with a look of bewilderment. Her eyes widened on seeing Heidel.
“Get down!” Briette dashed to Heidel’s side and grabbed her by the arm. She yanked Heidel away from the table to a space of open floor. “Down! On the floor!”
Heidel flung herself onto the stones, giving a short shriek as the flames bit the backs of her calves. She heard the clatter of dishes being flung from the washtub. Then a hard slap of lukewarm water fell across her legs. The fire hissed as it dissolved into steam and her head filled with the smell of lye soap.