I just stared.
“You are what royalty should be.”
“But I don’t want to be royalty.” The words were out of my mouth before I realized I was thinking them.
He smiled softly. “I know.”
I looked away, shaking my head in confusion.
“I meant it as a compliment, not an insult.”
I took a breath in, forcing myself to trust that what he said was true. “In that case, thank you?”
I laughed a bit at the way my thanks had come out as a question. I wasn’t sure if I should be thanking him or not and my uncertainty broke the tension.
“You’re welcome?” He laughed along with me, then became serious. “Might I ask you something?”
“Of course.” I found it curious that he would ask. I thought we had moved beyond that.
He hesitated for just a breath before asking, “What would happen if someone found us here together?”
My shoulders tensed, but I willed myself to maintain my composure. “What do you mean?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You know what I mean. How much trouble would I be in?”
My gaze fell to my fidgeting hands. “You wouldn’t.”
“I wouldn’t?”
“My mother would know it was my idea. I wouldn’t let the blame fall to you.” He seemed puzzled by my response. “I’m the one intruding,” I clarified. “You’re only doing your job.”
“You’re not intruding.”
I smiled. “I have to go.” I stooped to pick up my slippers and walked away from him. “Meet me here tomorrow morning.”
“Is that an order?” he asked lightly.
“No,” I said over my shoulder before lifting the hem of my skirts and hurrying gingerly along the winding stone path. Just before I slipped out of sight, I glanced back to see him looking mystified.
Before I left the maze, I stopped to put on my slippers. I wasn’t quite brave enough to allow anyone to see me barefoot. When my feet were appropriately covered I made my way out of the maze and up to the palace drawing room where my sisters and I had lessons. As I went, my hands automatically straightened and smoothed my hair and dress so as to avoid any unwanted questions.
When I arrived, my sisters were seated and our language instructor stood at the front of the room, waiting for me. I slipped into my seat, not meeting anyone’s eye. As our instruction began, I heard a whisper in my ear.
“Barely on time once again, Ariella?” I glanced up to see Lorraina smirking.
“Why do you care?” I asked, trying to pay attention.
“Oh, I don’t. I was just making an observation. You don’t seem to put much stock in punctuality lately. It’s a very unattractive habit.”
I decided not to respond. Out of all my sisters, Lorraina was the most difficult to get along with. Though nearly two years younger, she considered herself far superior to me. She prided herself on being the picture of princessly perfection. And perhaps she was; it was merely her personality I found lacking.
When our lessons ended, I wandered slowly back to my room, in no hurry to arrive there or anywhere else. I could think of nothing in the palace to excite me.
In my room, I found my maid, Gretchen, in my wardrobe, her dark blue uniform pristine as always, her sandy hair tied back and covered with a matching kerchief. She was running her hands gently over the fabric of my dresses.
I had many times wondered if Gretchen would flee if I were to extend a hand of friendship to her. During the year I was twelve, my nursemaid was dismissed and Gretchen, as her daughter, took over as my lady’s maid. We were close to the same age, but in my efforts to please my family, I had never tried to befriend her.
In the beginning, she chattered out of nervousness while she worked, and I loved her stories of growing up in the village. But as she learned her role, her nervous chattering stopped and I missed the friendship that felt so close, yet seemed so impossible.
I hoped that now I could change things, perhaps have a friend in her.
She stood now with a smile on her lips, as she put the fabric of my dresses over her arm or up to her body, no doubt imagining what it would be like to wear one. I had often wondered if those who served me envied or pitied my wardrobe. It was stiff and uncomfortable, but undeniably exquisite.
My moment of observation ended as she caught sight of me and flew into a panic. She dropped the fabric she had clutched so lovingly in her hands and stepped back, her head bowed, her hands stiff at her sides.
“My apologies, Highness. I’ll put your things to rights straight away.”
“Oh, I don’t mind.”
She continued to stare at the floor, her voice shaking. “I shouldn’t have been dawdling.” She went down on both knees and gathered a few ribbons.
I knelt beside her. “It really is all right.” But she continued to move about frantically. I caught both her hands in mine. “Gretchen.” She ventured a quick glance at me. “I don’t mind.” I tried to keep her attention. “Do you believe me?”
Her eyes showed even more alarm. “Yes, of course, Highness. I would never doubt you.”
“I’m not upset or cross with you. Alright?”
She held my eyes for a moment, then nodded her head in the affirmative and went about straightening the very slight mess. I took a deep breath, as much to encourage her to relax as to draw courage for myself. “Gretchen, I have an idea…”
Her hands stilled and she gave me her full attention. “Yes, Highness?”
“I wonder if you would like to try on one of these dresses, just to see how it might look.”
She seemed shocked, almost scandalized. “Oh no, Highness. That would be—I’m sure I could not.”
“You could if you’d like. I think it would be fun.” I held my breath, hoping she might let down her guard and take pity on me. I had the most adamant wish that she not be frightened of me.
She still seemed uncertain, so I decided to approach it from a different angle. I stood up and looked through my gowns. “Which one do you like best? Do you have a favorite?”
She took a hesitant step toward me, her hands fidgeting continually. “Yes, Highness. I do.”
“Which one?”
She stepped forward tentatively and pulled out a gown of sage green. The fabric was heavy with a beautiful luster that made the shade of green deepen when it was in shadow.
“I wore that for Jensa’s eighteenth birthday.”
She nodded, no doubt remembering.
“Would you like to put it on?”
She appeared sorely tempted, but seemed to come to her senses. “No, Highness. I should get back to work.”
She started away from me, but I found myself blurting out, “Gretchen, please.”
She stopped and turned, looking thoroughly stunned at my pathetic, pleading tone. “Begging your pardon, Princess?”
It was unbefitting for a princess to whine, and I certainly didn’t want to seem ungrateful. I had a comfortable life—more than comfortable—and I knew that Gretchen and every maiden like her envied me. And I truly did wish her to stay.
“I just—I would very much appreciate your company.”
Confusion still blanketed her features.
“My sisters and I don’t have much in common. I find myself a bit lonely sometimes.”
“I will stay, of course, Highness, if you wish.”
“I do wish, but I don’t want you to stay because I asked you to, or at least not because a princess asked you. I’d like you to stay because you would enjoy yourself. So, I leave it up to you. I am inviting you to stay, but you are free to go if you’d prefer.”
Gretchen’s lips pursed in thought, then a smile started to pull at the corner of her mouth before she said, “I have wondered what it might be like to dress up as a lady.”
“Shall we find out?”
She paused for only a moment then fairly skipped over to me.
We ended up switching clothing since I was curious what it would be like to wear regular, plain clo
thing. I discovered that above all else, it was easier. Not so much to worry about or keep in place.
Apparently Gretchen agreed with me. “This is ridiculous!” she exclaimed in exasperation as she tried to move about in the green dress. “How can you get anywhere without falling on your face?” She blushed after her outburst, but I just laughed.
“With great difficulty,” I replied. “Plus, you’re shorter than I am, so the hem is more underfoot. And keep in mind this is a ball gown, so it’s even less practical than my usual attire.”
She quirked her mouth to one side and shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually dance in this.”
I shrugged. “You get used to it.”
She looked skeptical. “I suppose.”
“So, how do you feel?”
She pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “Quite regal,” she answered, and I laughed. “And how about you?” she asked. “How does it feel to be dressed as a commoner?”
I spun around effortlessly. “It feels easier.”
She stifled a giggle, then looked about as if realizing something. “Oh, Highness. We must get you dressed for dinner or you’ll be late.” She was quite right, and we both went about helping each other out of our costumes and into our own clothes. I worried she might go back to being aloof, but as we changed and she settled behind me to do my hair, I managed to keep a light conversation going. It almost seemed too easy, but then I realized there was a good chance she found herself as lonely as I did.
***
Each morning over the next week, I went out to find Gavin wherever he was working in the maze. I would stay there for an hour or so while he continued to work. Sometimes I brought a book and read out loud to him. He continued to call me “Princess,” and I continued to correct him. From there, our friendship grew into the most precious thing I’d ever had the pleasure of owning.
I enjoyed sitting on the ground—usually in the middle of a pathway. Anyone else would have been scandalized by such a display, but Gavin seemed to find it as amusing as I did. I caught him smiling several times as I tried to tame my skirts—watching them billow up around me.
If he was working near one of the many ponds throughout the maze, I would wade for a moment or two, or at least put my feet in as I sat at the edge. After a couple weeks I felt more and more in the way as Gavin worked and I did nothing.
I could speak three languages and play two instruments; I was aware of the five acceptable reasons to go to war; and knew the protocol for greeting any guest that might enter the place. But when it came to everyday, practical situations, I was useless. So I started insisting that Gavin teach me to perform some of his everyday tasks so I could feel useful.
“So, I take a hold of it here…” At present he was teaching me about weeds, and though he had vehemently tried to dissuade me from dealing with the weeds myself, I was more insistent than he was prepared for. Thus, I was down on hands and knees beside Gavin, my hands covered in dirt and my hair slipping from its proper place.
“You’ll want to get a hold of it as close to the ground as possible,” he advised me.
While I knew this task was minimal and unimportant in the grand scheme of things, I found a real sense of satisfaction in learning to do something useful. I pressed my fingers into the dirt and grasped the little fiend once more. “Like this?”
“Yes.” He drew out the word as though amused that I sought guidance about something so simple. “Now just pull steadily.” I did so, and to my surprise it came loose—roots and all. “And that,” he said, turning to me, “is how you get rid of a weed.”
“Fascinating.” I couldn’t help staring at the bit of green in my hand, then at the spot where it had previously resided.
I looked over to see Gavin trying desperately to keep a straight face. “What?” I asked, sensing he was somehow laughing at me.
“Nothing,” he claimed, and then quickly dove into his work so he could turn his head away and laugh to himself.
I reached out and touched his arm to get his attention. “Tell me what’s so funny. Did I do it wrong?”
He turned toward me, keeping his mouth from turning up, but I could see the amusement in his eyes. “No, you did it just right.”
“But?”
“In all my years of working with plants, I’ve never considered that weeds could be fascinating.”
“Oh.” My brow furrowed as I realized I had made a fool of myself. “Yes, you’re right of course. It’s not fascinating, I was just…” I saw another weed and decided to try it again, if only to give myself something to do. I was embarrassed at having shown my naivety.
“What are you doing?” he asked quietly.
“Getting rid of another weed.” And I did just that.
“I can do it.” His tone was careful, not wanting to hurt my feelings.
“I can do it too. You’ve taught me very well.” I kept my eyes on my chosen task as I wrapped my fingers around yet another noxious offender.
“You’re getting your dress dirty.” He sounded as though this would end the matter, thinking I might abhor the idea.
“So?” I finally looked him in the eye, daring him to say something of my station or my upbringing.
His gaze flitted about, as if searching for an appropriate response, and eventually settled on a simple, “Alright.” Apparently, he still didn’t know quite what to make of me.
CHAPTER THREE
The Door
THE NEXT MORNING I walked into the garden room to find Gavin tending to some ground creepers that wound themselves around the other plants. He faced away from me as I entered, and I heard him singing to himself—a lilting folk song in a deep, resonant voice.
My lass is a beauty,
A sight to behold,
And when she does kiss me,
I cannot feel cold.
Our love is the purest,
Our love is so sweet,
For she’s my fair lady—
“You should perform for Father.”
He whirled, halting his song. “Princess—Ella,” he corrected. “You startled me. I’m not used to being snuck up on.”
I settled on the ground next to him. “It was not my intent to sneak; you simply didn’t hear me.”
“It’s those blasted silk slippers, they don’t make a sound.” He turned his attention back to his work. “I should make you wear some proper, clomping shoes.”
“You have a handsome voice.”
He shook his head as though I were being overly kind. “I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what you’re used to hearing.”
“You’d be surprised.”
He stopped his work to look at me. “Would I?”
“Musicians at the palace are rarely concerned with showcasing their musical talents. None of the words hold any meaning beyond wanting to be in good favor with royalty. It seems like a sad way to use one’s talent.”
“Or the smart way.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sure those musicians gain far more by being in favor with the royal family than by using their talent to express themselves and earn nothing.”
My brow furrowed. “I hadn’t considered that.”
“That’s because you don’t think about money.”
I was insulted, but I knew he hadn’t meant any offense. “My parents aren’t fools, Gavin. We all know those songs are meant for flattery.”
“Then why do you keep inviting them back?”
“It is not for our benefit that they play.”
“Then whose?”
“The court’s, visiting royalty or nobility—anyone besides us.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s important we maintain the image of being reverenced by our people. I know it sounds shallow—and sometimes it is—but if those who dine with us don’t witness the respect given us through those songs, then there is a chance they will think us weak. If we do not appear to be in full favor with our own peopl
e, our enemies may believe they can exploit that.”
“Hm.” This noise was short and abrupt. I really didn’t know what it meant.
“It’s a tricky thing,” I confided, “because while it is important to appear in power to those on the outside, I fear it makes us appear shallow and vain to our own subjects. Like you. And thus we lose the respect of our own people.”
“I never said you were shallow and vain.” He wasn’t defensive, but spoke softly, as though reassuring me.
“And the rest of my family?”
He dropped his eyes—I wasn’t surprised that he thought of my family as shallow and vain. And I certainly didn’t blame him for it; as I had said, our conduct had various effects on different people.
I opted to change the subject. “When you are not tending to these gardens, what do you do?”
“I have many responsibilities at home.”
“Where do you live?” I asked, realizing I didn’t know.
“Just outside the palace walls. There is an area designated for palace servants to live if they so choose. My family has been tending these grounds for generations.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I started working with my father when I was twelve years old.”
“Does your father still work here?”
He looked away. “Not anymore.”
“Why not?” I asked quietly, worried that perhaps his father no longer lived.
“His leg. It’s pained him for many years, but about a year and a half ago, it became impossible for him to stand all day, bending his knee constantly.”
“So you took over his responsibilities?”
He nodded.
“Was your father glad to be done, or was it difficult for him to give up his work?”
“He hated it. Being unable to work is not easy on a man’s pride.”
“How did he manage?”
“Learned a new trade.” He smiled as he answered. “Swallowed his pride and turned himself into an apprentice for a wood carver. He’s made some rather impressive pieces of furniture.”
The pride he felt for his father shone in his eyes.
“He’s found satisfaction in a new skill and left me in charge of the maze.”
“You work only in the maze?”
Just Ella Page 3