A look of horror crossed his face and I gave him a sad smile before turning to leave.
“Oh,” I heard him stuttering behind me, sounding utterly mortified. “No, I…my apologies, miss—Your Highness,” he corrected himself sharply. “Princess, I’m so very sorry, I…”
I shook my head as I turned to face him again. He looked so different: the confidence, the grin, the amusement were all gone, replaced with a look akin to physical pain. “It’s all right,” I said quietly. “You’re not wrong.” I should have inclined my head, waiting for him to bow before I left. Instead I lifted my hand in farewell.
Unwilling to return to the palace, I walked deeper into the maze. My conversation with Gavin had not ended well, but that was no reason to give up my explorations. Coming here had been my choice, and I would not leave until I wanted to leave. Admittedly, I was disappointed. Speaking with Gavin had been enjoyable; he had been open and had a charming, teasing manner. It was a shame our first encounter would be our last. Even if he didn’t despise me for my station, he would no longer be comfortable conversing with me. I was a royal—a lazy, entitled royal.
I was mortified anyone would perceive me that way. And the worst part was that he was right. None of my talents or endeavors were really useful, and I also despised royalty some of the time. Royal suitors were frequent guests in a castle that housed seven princesses. And though some were pleasant enough, I had met my fair share of princes who were supreme examples of arrogant, entitled royalty. Prince Jeshua was one of the worst. Perhaps that’s why it bothered me so much. I found being put on the same level as those I scorned appalling.
I entered one of the open rooms and sat down amidst the lush greenery and fragrant blooms, trying to decipher my feelings. I was sad and angry and insulted, yes. But Gavin had sparked another feeling. I felt invigorated—more invigorated than I ever had while defying my parents and evading royal guests, and I was anxious for this excitement to last.
CHAPTER TWO
The Room
THE NEXT AFTERNOON I sat in deep contemplation, a pencil in my limp hand and blank paper in front of me. I had received a very small glimpse of a friendship I longed for but which was unlikely to be. Still, I couldn’t shake the possibility from my mind.
My father would arrive soon. Over the past several years, I had spent a great deal of time in the library, getting lost in the worlds created in books while avoiding the world I lived in.
I was fourteen when my father discovered my tendency to linger here. One day I had walked in expecting to find myself alone, as usual, but when I pulled out a book and turned, my father was sitting in a chair, a book open on his lap but his eyes on me. I jumped in surprise then laughed at myself in relief.
“Good day, Father.”
He gave me a serene smile, the kind he only showed when there were no servants or nobles around. Dark hair brushed his shoulders and a trim beard framed his mouth. Even sitting in a chair, his broad build and considerable height made him an imposing figure. “Good day, Ariella. And what are you doing in here?”
“Just…looking for a book.”
“Are you here often?”
“Oh,” I began, not wanting to admit I could be found there every day, for several hours. “Fairly often. And you?”
He smiled at my question. “A little every day if I can manage it. I find that a break from my responsibilities helps me to focus.”
I noticed the weariness about his eyes. My father’s responsibilities were so much a part of him that I had never before considered how he might struggle with them.
“Come here, let me show you something.” He leaned forward, setting his book on the low table in front of him. I approached, somewhat hesitant. I wasn’t used to spending time with just my father; he didn’t have time for it. But that day, he took the time to show me the document he had been reading, which included the names of all the lords that had jurisdiction over different parcels of land, with notations about how many tenants worked on the property, as well as the goods produced. I found it fascinating. Not so much the subject, but the fact that my father shared his own insights with me.
It became a habit. If he had the time, he was usually in the library around the same time each day. Whenever I joined him he spent his time teaching me about our country. Sometimes we spoke of its history; other times it was his plans for the future, a problem with an outlying village, or the methods he employed when dealing with foreign governments. It was all so interesting and I had to wonder why I spent time learning dancing and etiquette along with my sisters when I could be learning things of importance.
So when my father entered for our lesson the day after my encounter with the gardener, I put away my drawings and tried to focus on him, but eventually interrupted with a question. “Father—” He looked up, surprised. “You don’t interact with commoners much.” His eyebrows shot up at my abrupt change of topic. “I was just wondering, why is that?”
He sat back and studied me for a moment before taking a deep breath and answering seriously. “I suppose you might consider it self preservation.” My brow furrowed and he continued, “I make decisions every day that will affect countless people. It is vital that I remain rational and logical. If I get caught up in the feelings of individuals, it becomes almost impossible for me to make sound decisions.”
I stayed silent, letting his words sink in and hoping he would expound, but he moved on to other things and our time was soon up. His words stayed with me, though. As I walked out to the gardens, I wondered if this reasoning was the same my mother used for keeping me away from the servants. It was a battle I had been fighting for several years even though I could never quite understand why I felt so drawn to them. As a child I had loved everyone—as I suppose most children do—but I had the misfortune of having not only a watchful mother, but three older sisters who thought it prudent to steer me away from such feelings.
When I was six years old, Mia and Jensa had seen me kiss the cheek of my nursemaid in thanks and had chastised me severely for it. I held the title of princess and needed to act like one.
I tried to be detached and distant and think of myself as better. I tried, desperately wanting to please my family, but never comfortable playing that role.
And so it was a great relief to have taken this step—to have reclaimed the maze and given myself permission to be a little more of myself. My father’s reasons for keeping himself distant helped me to understand him, but it also made me realize that I did not feel the same. I wanted—and perhaps even needed—to know our subjects as individuals.
I entered the maze and felt satisfied in my decision to be there. I went a different direction than I had the day before and ended up winding my way close to the outer wall. The path opened up rather suddenly onto a large area of blossoming trees mingled with statues. Several archways led away into other paths and areas. I recognized the juncture and remembered that a couple of rooms were easily missed.
Crossing the open space, I found a gap in the hedge hidden behind one of the largest trees. I slipped through into an enclosed space very much like a room.
Vague memories were all I had of this room; my childhood had been spent running through the more open areas of the maze. It was nearly a perfect circle, with a round pond in the middle. Flat rocks had been laid to make a stone floor surrounding what must have been a spring. More rocks stacked on top of each other formed a low wall surrounding the water, only about as high as my hand. The water flowed out of a small opening in the outer wall, escaping under the hedge. The perimeter of the room was lined with stone columns, trellises and benches, all intermixed with plants and flowers. A lone tree shaded the far end of the pool, sending the petals from its white blossoms to drift lazily on the water’s surface before rushing away. It was enchanting.
This room had been very carefully planned and created with a subtle feeling of…vibrancy. Something extra had been put into this room, as though it meant more to the caretaker than the others.
/> My attention was directed at the tree, considering whether or not it would be a good one for climbing, when I sensed a presence behind me. I turned to find Gavin standing barely inside the room, and stared at him for a moment, trying to decipher the emotion running across his face. He certainly looked embarrassed, but there was something else. It wasn’t anger, or even irritation, as I might have expected. Concerned wasn’t quite right, but it was closer.
He looked away from me, taking in the serenity of the room surrounding us, and when his eyes returned to me, I saw it. Vulnerability. It had taken me so long to pinpoint the emotion because I had not expected it.
Why would he feel vulnerable? I took in my surroundings once more and realized that he must be the one who cared so well for this room.
And I was intruding.
“My apologies—I’ll leave.” I walked toward the doorway where he stood.
“No, Princess. Please, I will not interrupt.” He gave an awkward bow and stepped back.
“Wait,” I called, before he could leave. “Please don’t let me keep you from your work.”
He seemed to consider for a moment, never meeting my eyes. “If you’re certain it won’t be a bother.”
“Why would it be a bother?”
“Part of my job is staying out of the way. Especially after insulting a member of the royal family.”
I sighed. “Though I may be royalty, I’m still the one you found climbing a tree yesterday. I don’t consider your presence a bother.”
He bowed his head, the corners of his mouth turning up just a little. “Very well.”
As he worked, I sat down, only to realize the tension rippling through me, my hands gripping the edge of the bench. He was busy clearing out twigs and wilted petals stuck to the rocks that surrounded the pond. I couldn’t still my feet or relax my hands and finally gave up on the idea of sitting. I stood, walking along the stone laid path, admiring the vines and flowers that climbed the trellis and hung above the bench where I had been sitting. Knowing that this young gardener had woven himself into every detail of this room made me want to know more about him. The colors of the different flowers blended in harmony with one another and seemed brighter, fuller than the others in the gardens. I couldn’t resist running my hand over many of their leaves and budding blossoms. I reveled in the feeling for a moment until I felt a twinge in my finger. “Ouch!” slipped from my lips and I pulled my hand away from the offending branch. It wasn’t really painful, but the surprise of it had sent the exclamation out of my mouth before I realized it.
“Careful of those roses,” Gavin said as he came up behind me. I turned to look at him in embarrassment. “They bite back,” he said with a smile. Maybe there was still a chance that I could get to know him.
I shook my hand at my side to relieve the stinging. “Yes, I noticed.”
He came closer, pulled off his gloves and put them under his arm, then held out his hands. “Here, let me see.” I let my hand rest in his and he bent over it, inspecting my fingers. “You said your name was Ella.”
“Yes,” I answered, wondering at the question in his tone.
“I do not remember any princess by that name.”
“Short for Ariella.”
“Ah.” He looked up. “That name I might’ve recognized.” He let go of my hand. “You should put some salve on that.”
“Thank you. Though you needn’t feel obligated to assist me.”
“Nonsense. As one of your concerned subjects, it is my duty to help you any way I can.”
I stepped back. “As I said, no obligatory concern necessary.” I turned and walked back to the bench.
I caught a glimpse of Gavin’s confused face before he asked, “Have I offended you, Princess?”
“No, of course not.” It wasn’t really a lie. I was certainly trying not to be offended.
He walked toward me. “I can tell I did something wrong, but I don’t know what.”
I sighed. “It’s really not your fault. It shouldn’t have bothered me.”
“But it did,” he stated. “And I’d like to know why.” His voice was gentle, earnest.
I wanted to have a friendship with this young man, and in order to do so, I knew I had to be honest. “Because of who I am, it’s often difficult to judge a person’s sincerity.” He didn’t say anything, so I went on. “I’ve heard countless flattering words in my life, about anything and everything I do. I never know who to believe.” I tried to look at him, but couldn’t. “It makes friendships difficult; friendship requires sincerity, not flattery.” I glanced up and saw that his expression appeared a bit bewildered, like he had seen something for the first time—something confusing.
“I can understand that,” was his eventual response.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I never shared confidences with anyone.
He walked closer, which surprised me in and of itself, and sat down next to me. I was speechless, and relieved when he started a conversation.
“So,” he said, turning toward me, “tell me the most absurd thing someone has said to you in order to flatter their way into your good graces.”
A smile broke over my face as comments began flying through my head, from the most blundering to the most eloquent compliments. “Oh,” I sighed in amusement, “I don’t know that I could pick just one.”
“So, tell me more than one.”
That was the beginning for us. It was tentative and shaky, but I came back the next day and the day after. We continued to talk and I continued to explore. I loved being in the maze and I found myself ever more drawn to the ponds throughout—their soothing sound and reflective surfaces. I had never played in them as a child, knowing it was strictly forbidden; but one day, with Gavin by my side, I stopped resisting and acted on impulse.
“Might I ask what you are doing?” Gavin questioned as I stooped to remove my silk slippers.
“Have you ever waded through water?”
His brow furrowed deeply. “Many times, but only out of necessity.”
“You never thought it might be fun?”
“No. And I stand by that.” He seemed as if he desperately wished to stop me from doing what I was about to do, but I knew he wouldn’t.
“I’ve never waded in water just for the fun of it,” I told him while I gathered the many layers of dress into my hands in preparation. “I think it will be rather enjoyable.” I stepped over the low stone wall and into the shallow pool. The water barely reached my ankles, but it still felt wonderful. I took several steps, letting my toes skim the bottom as my feet glided through the water. I turned to Gavin, who watched me in a bemused sort of way. “It really is quite a lovely feeling.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, it is so. You should try it,” I answered as I let my feet slip gently through the water, careful not to let my skirts skim the surface.
He studied me, a curious expression on his face, and asked, “If you have such an affinity for these gardens, why have I never seen you here before?”
I thought about his question for a moment, mulling over my attempts to be proper, which had lead to so much of my discontent.
He came closer and I was roused from my musings.
“I actually used to spend a good deal of time here. But it’s been several years. So…,” I changed the subject. “Are you going to wade with me or not?”
He chewed his lip. “I’d rather not, Princess.”
I stopped. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why?”
“Just—” I couldn’t explain it. “Don’t call me that.”
“Then, what am I supposed to call you?” He asked, genuinely confused.
“By my name, of course.”
“You expect me to just call you Ariella?”
“I would prefer simply Ella, but I’ll take what I can get.”
His eyes were slightly panicked. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because you’re royalty.” He said it as though I might have forgotten.
“Then pretend I’m not.”
“You say that as though it’s the easiest thing in the world.”
“Isn’t it?”
He looked exasperated. “No, Princess, it’s not.” My brow furrowed at hearing the seriousness in his voice. “You look like royalty, you act like royalty—”
“The first time we met, you had no idea that I was royalty.”
“I’ve learned from that mistake.”
“What do I do that is so royal?”
“It’s not so much what you do, but how you do it. You carry yourself like a royal.”
My eyebrows rose at this. “Even when I’m climbing a tree? Or tramping through water barefoot?” I walked to the edge of the pool, splashing as I went.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Though I will admit, the sight of you wading through water is undoubtedly a refreshing one,”—his eyes roamed over my face and down to my wet feet—“you look like a princess, and you cannot avoid that.”
I rolled my eyes and climbed out of the water onto the stone barrier. “It’s just a dress.” I stepped off the little wall, landing lightly in front of him. “It’s just ribbons and silk; none of it means anything.” I turned and started away from him.
“I wasn’t talking about your wardrobe, Ella.”
I smiled at his using my name, then turned back. “But if you weren’t referring to my clothes, then how exactly do I look like a royal?”
“I meant that the way you act shows just how much better than me you are.”
My mouth opened in horrified shock. How could he think—?
“Not,” he said, seeing my reaction, “not in an arrogant way. Not the way other royals act. Not as though you think you’re better. Just that—” he struggled for words, “—just that you are.” His shoulders sagged at this admission and my eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You’re better, you’re...more beautiful than anyone I’ve ever met.”
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