by Aya Ling
The bell for recess had just rung; the University corridors were crowded and noisy. Students talked and laughed and elbowed each other. Many fell quiet when Elaine ran past. Without her uniform, her white frock and shining hair stood out like a beacon in the sea of black cloaks.
"Hey!" Someone yelled, but Elaine only quickened her step. Nothing was more important than finding Garam.
She was in luck. When she mounted the stairs leading to the laboratories, a man wearing spectacles and carrying a large leather briefcase was descending.
"Garam!" Elaine flew at him and caught his arm. "Oh, do come quick, Valeria's injured!"
Garam looked shocked. "Injured? What happened to her?"
"She fell off a chair and broke her leg. She's in the kitchens noe. Hurry, she looks in so much pain!"
"Miss Leventhorpe!" Monsieur, the Tintagelese teacher, called. "Where do you think you're going?"
Uh-oh. She had meant to skip her Tintagelese test.
"Er..." Elaine found herself tongue-tied. Now that she had found Garam, it was unnecessary that she accompany the physician to the kitchen. Garam bowed and hurried off.
"Well? Are you going to say that it makes no difference since you get an F every time anyway?"
How did he know what she was thinking? Nevertheless, Elaine gave him her most innocent-eyed look.
"I'm afraid you're mistaken, Monsieur. I had every intention of taking the test." Elaine followed her Tintagelese teacher into the classroom.
"Here's your test result from last week." Monsieur shoved a piece of paper into her hands. Elaine glanced at it. Unsurprisingly, it was filled with red ink. A large F was scrawled on the top.
"Go to your seat. You're delaying our quiz today."
For a moment, Elaine debated about leaving. She hadn't studied for today's test. The king wouldn't let her drop humanities. Since she had no chance of surviving the year, why not announce her decision to quit?
But then, Francis Wesley happened to look in her direction at the very second she was going to blurt she was done with the University, and a smug, taunting smirk glinted in his eyes. He made a sign with his fist, pointing his thumb downwards.
Elaine promptly made a dreadful face at him–nose scrunched up, tongue out, one eye wide open while the other was shut. She would not admit defeat in front of him. She couldn't quit. At least not in front of Francis Wesley, who would and probably already had, delight in reporting every single of her failures to his aunt, Lady Wesley.
So what if she didn't study the day before? She already had seven Fs in Tintagelese, things couldn't get worse.
"Mademoiselle Leventhorpe?" Monsieur's tone was acid. "Are you going to sit down?"
Elaine bobbed her head. "Of course. Pardon me."
When the class was over, Francis sidled up to her.
"You know, with the grades you're getting, I'm surprised you haven't quit by now."
Elaine felt like rolling up her test paper and stuffing it into his mouth, but instead she offered an innocent grin.
"What grades? Oh, you mean like our last physics quiz? Why would I quit when my quiz score is higher than yours?"
Francis turned a deep shade of red.
"No matter what your physics grades may be, you know the rules about the end-of-year exams."
Elaine clenched her fists. He had found the weak point in her armor and driven the point home. Even if her grades in math and physics were satisfactory, if she failed Tintagelese (and the other humanities subjects), she would have to leave.
Francis smirked. "Anyway, an earlier departure or getting kicked out by the end of the year–it's your choice."
Hours later, Elaine stumbled into her room and sank gratefully on her bed. Though she was exhausted in both body and spirit, she made a decision. Albert had announced there would be a quarter math exam next week, and Elaine was determined to pass it. Preferably with a grade higher than Francs Wesley, Mr. Snotty-Face. She would at least remain at the University till then.
Elaine rolled on the bed as though she were a stray wheel pushed down a hill, fighting off the urge to fall asleep. Distantly, the bell tower began to strike. Six chimes--it was already six in the evening.
Neither Winifred nor Effie had returned. Normally by this hour, they would be waiting in her room with a piping hot dinner tray.
Slightly annoyed, Elaine launched off the bed. She still had loads of work to do–history quiz, fifty math problems and ten pages of translating Tintagelese into Rivieran. She wasn't ravenous, but she needed at least a good cup of steaming coffee.
Just then, Effie burst into the room, balancing a dinner tray, the spoon clinking against the dish.
"Oh Your Highness!" she panted. "Forgive me, we've been called to assist Valeria. Did you know she broke her leg? 'Tis a hassle running orders, now that she can't walk."
Elaine's annoyance evaporated. "What do you mean, running orders for Valeria? Shouldn't she stay in the palace and rest?"
"Oh no, she insists that she has to see to the kitchen, broken foot or not. And she wants a few hours with the baby too. So we had to arrange a carriage for her to travel between the palace and kitchens."
"But it's such a short distance!" Elaine couldn't imagine using a carriage when a brief walk would do.
"It's either taking the carriage or hobbling on a stick," Winifred said, coming in with a basket of freshly ironed frocks.
"Even if Valeria's willing to walk, His Highness Ralph won't hear of it!" Effie put a hand on her heart.
"Not to mention the number of servants needed around to catch her if she trips," Winifred said.
"Speaking from experience," Effie grinned.
"By the way, how did you do today?" Winifred asked. "Did your Tintagelese test go all right?"
"Um..." Elaine decided not to let them know she had skipped the entire morning of classes and gone to her father. "Same as always."
Elaine bounded towards the palace, her cloak flapping in the wind. Compared to the day before, she was in a much better mood. The history professor had come down with a cold, leaving her two blissful hours to catch up on her Tintagelese. She was determined that on the next quiz, she would do better–no more ugly Fs! Furthermore, Albert had announced that the results of the quarter-exam next week would be posted on the wall instead of simply being announced–for it was the first major exam into the semester.
If only she came out ahead of Francis Wesley! So far, she still lagged behind, but perhaps with an extra effort, she could wipe that insolent smirk off his face. Even if she might have to eventually leave the University, it would be deeply gratifying to beat Francis Wesley in a major exam.
Elaine slipped in the side entrance and halted.
Voices floated in the air, sounds of feet shuffling and objects being moved around. A dozen or so servants rushing about the corridor. One footman carried a chair, a maid was heaving a basket of clothes. Had a foreign guest arrived? Or did a room catch fire?
"Is this Her Highness's recipe collection?" A footman staggered past Elaine, his arms filled with a pile of books that looked in danger of teetering over.
"Thank you," Valeria said. She was sitting on a stool; her left foot bandaged like an elephant's. "If you'd be so kind to stack them on a table, I shall be able to sort them out later."
Elaine gaped. This was the first floor in the main palace building; it was where the servants slept. "Valeria." She ran over to her sister-in-law. "Why are you moving downstairs?"
"Temporary measures," Valeria said, smiling at her. "It'll just be for a short while. By the way, how are you doing in your studies?"
"I'm fine," Elaine said, returning a grin. "Albert asked us to come up to the board and solve problems, and half of my classmates couldn't finish them. But I solved my part."
"That's good to hear. I always knew you had a talent for mathematics. But what about your other subjects?"
"Uh..." Visions of her dozing in literature and language classes flashed through her.
"You
r Highness!" Another maid rushed over to them. "Where should I put your shoes and slippers?"
"Right in that corner, please."
Footsteps echoed on the polished marble floor, brisk and distinct and quick. Prince Ralph appeared.
"What's going on?"
A slight sheen of sweat dampened his hair though his clothes remained spotless and tidy. He strode to Valeria and rested his hand on her shoulder.
"How's your foot healing? Did the physician see you today?"
"Nothing to worry about," Valeria smiled at him reassuringly. "You're making more of a fuss than I am. No, all I need is to move to the first floor. Until I can go up and down the stairs without aid, that is."
Ralph drew his brows together. "You want to move out?"
"Well, it's been causing so much trouble for everyone. As you know, with my weight, the maids have been suffering, since they have to help me up and down the stairs every day. So I thought it'd be easier if I set up temporarily downstairs."
"There is no need for that," Ralph said curtly. He leaned down, picked her up as though she were a bag of molasses candy, and despite her protests, carried her towards the staircase.
"Oh!" Effie's eyes became as wide as saucers.
Halfway up the stairs, Ralph turned. "Restore everything to its original order. My wife is not going anywhere."
Elaine and the rest of the servants gaped for a second. Then, when the crown prince and the princess disappeared--
"Oh, wasn't it so romantic of His Highness?" Effie gushed, putting both hands on her cheeks. "I'd be in heaven if a man would do that to me! Oh, it is the most romantic thing ever!"
"Yes, yes, we know," Winifred said. "You said the same thing when Ralph ordered a seven-tier cake, covered with chocolate roses on Valeria's birthday last year."
"But don't you think he is carrying things too far?" Another servant asked. "They see each other every day!"
"Not as much as you'd imagine. Ralph wasn't too happy that the baby is taking up too much of Valeria's attention, so if she moves out of their bedroom..."
"Aww..."
Elaine had to admit it herself, though sometimes her elder brother was infuriatingly stiff and emotionless, his devotion towards Valeria was touching.
CHAPTER TEN
"Princess...is there anything you need?" Winifred asked. "A cup of hot chocolate, or maybe a plate of raisin oatmeal biscuits?"
Elaine fought a yawn. The math exam was coming up in three days, and she was still stuck on one particularly twisted problem. For half an hour.
"Can't I have some coffee? Please? It'll be much easier to defend myself against sleep."
"You're too young for coffee."
"But if you add milk to it? Lots and lots of milk?"
"Well..." Winifred reluctantly gave in. "You'd better pass that math exam."
"If I do, can I have coffee every day?"
"Not a chance."
"Winnie! You're so cruel! Do you want to see me kicked out of school?"
"School or no school, less stimulants is better for your health." Winifred used her mother hen tone. "Now get back to work. Not a single drop of coffee you'll get if it's past tea time. Effie, you're coming with me. Let the princess concentrate. You can feed her any amount of gossip when her exam is over."
The two maids left, shutting the door quietly.
Elaine balanced the pencil on her upper lip and sighed. She'd rather have some company, but Winifred was right. She'd make far less progress with Effie–a notorious gossip who could never keep her mouth shut–in the room.
About an hour later, Elaine started to yawn. The coffee was aromatic and tasted good, but it wasn't strong enough. Or maybe she was simply too prone to sleep.
Elaine glanced at her bed. How tempting it looked–the fat, cuddly, squishy pillows, the soft velvety blankets lined with fur, the fresh, sweet-smelling linen sheets that were just changed this morning.
"I'll just take a nap," Elaine told herself.
But when she took a step forward, she made herself stop. Willed herself to close her eyes and turn away.
"Elaine Leventhorpe," she said severely. "You know very well that once you sink in those pillows, you won't get up until the sunlight is streaming in next morning."
Elaine trotted back to her desk and sat down. It was another two hours before she was satisfied and felt certain she could pass the exam. She stood and stretched like a cat, covering her mouth when she yawned. A chilly breeze entered the window, making her sneeze. Elaine was about to pull down the shutters, ready for bed, when hooves clattered on the cobbled ground.
Valeria was getting out of her carriage. It was the oldest carriage the palace owned, since the better ones were used for normal travel, not conveying a person from the kitchen to the main building. It creaked and squeaked so loudly that Elaine winced from her third-floor window. Valeria hobbled down with the aid of a wooden staff in her right hand, leaning on the footman by her left.
Poor Valeria. If only there was a way to help her.
The little princess turned back to her desk and started clearing away her books and pens and papers. One of her notes fluttered to the floor. She glanced at the note, which showed a list of geometry problems, some of those dealing with calculating the perimeters of wheels.
Elaine stood still for a moment–then grabbed a pen and started drawing furiously. It was utterly quiet except for the scratching of pen on paper. One strand of glossy hair fell over her face and got stained by ink, but she barely noticed. All she was conscious of was the sudden, sparkling idea of an invention that would make life easier for Valeria.
"Jims! Jims!"
Elaine came flying down the carpenter's workshop, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her fist. She burst into the workshop, breathing fast and hard.
She was good friends with the carpenter since he mended her toys when she was younger. Jims had four children, all of them boys, and treated her as though she were his daughter.
"Do you think you can make a chair like this?"
Jims scanned the paper she thrust before him. "A chair with wheels?"
"For Valeria." Briefly, Elaine explained how Valeria didn't want the entire staff in a state of nervousness and exhaustion due to her unfortunate injury. "If she can move around herself, by pushing on two enormous wheels on either side of the chair, I'm sure it'll make her feel less of a burden. Do you think it's feasible? Is it possible?"
Jims rubbed his chin.
"Well, I must say it's an unusual notion, but nah, don' think this'll be too hard. Just need wood that's sturdy enough, Her Highness ain' no common woman."
"Thanks." Elaine said, relieved. She had worried if her design was too unusual. "If you need anything, funds or something, let me know."
Jims snorted. "Ain' no trouble, little princess. Anything fer our future queen. Although–" he cast a glance at the saw on his bench. "Might have to get a new saw and a box of nails. They had me build a set of new shelves that used up almost all my supplies."
He scratched his head–Elaine noticed a few streaks of white in his brown hair. The bags under his eyes also seemed more pronounced.
"I'll get them for you," Elaine said eagerly. "Do let me; I've been dying to visit Market Square for ages. You take a nice long rest."
Jims looked scandalized. "Little princess, I can't let yer do that!"
Light footsteps sounded outside.
"Master Jims?"
Elaine's eyes widened. Raven hair, violet eyes the shape of almonds... it was the boy she ran into on her first day of school--Andre, was it? Today he wore a white shirt and black trousers, and on his shoulder he carried a load of logs, all neatly trimmed of branches and leaves.
"Set 'em down over there, lad," Jims said. "Yer early today."
"We got the afternoon off," Andre said. He gave Elaine a short bow and a polite smile. "Princess."
Flashing Andre a nod and grin, Elaine turned to Jims. "Just tell me the model of the saw you need and I'll get it."
Andre looked at them quizzically. "The princess wants to buy a saw for you?"
"She ain't–"
"Yes I am." Elaine stamped her foot.
"All right." Jims spread his hands in defeat. "Yer go to the market. But only if Andre goes with yer. He can carry the stuff. Yer got the time, lad?"
Andre looked a bit surprised, but he nodded. "I will see that she's brought back safely."
Resentment flared within her–she didn't like being treated like a child. But if it meant that Jims could ease his conscience, then so be it.
Elaine put a stone on her precious chair design, making sure the wind wouldn't blow it away. Then she hopped towards Andre.
"Let's go."
"Why are we taking this route?"
"Because it's the least guarded, that's why."
Elaine had led the way to a wall covered in ivy. One had to look closely to see the door in the wall.
"They always make a big fuss when I try to leave the palace on my own," Elaine said. She grasped the knob and pulled, but the door creaked and moved probably an inch. "Drat! I suppose the hinges have gone rusty. No one uses this door anymore."
A hand closed over her wrist and removed her hand from the door.
"Let me try," Andre said gently. He pulled–and the door swung open as easily as though it were newly polished and oiled.
Elaine blinked. That door was made of iron. Was she really that weak, or did he possess inhuman strength?
Andre brushed away a few leaves that fell on his hair and gestured outwards. "After you, princess."
Elaine stared at him. He seemed to be a servant, but the way he carried himself, and the white shirt he was wearing seemed suspiciously similar to the one worn in...
"The Academy!" She reached out and tugged at his sleeve. "Why are you wearing an Academy uniform?"
Andre looked at her, his violet eyes steadfast and earnest. Yes, he couldn't be a normal servant–Maurice, for example, would have looked on the floor first before raising his head to answer.