by Anita Valle
Flynn nodded.
“But your mother’s right. You need two pigs to raise a herd.”
Flynn’s face crumpled. “So… will you buy him?”
Maelyn stayed quiet a few moments. “I have another idea. Our pig had a litter last month. What if you bought a piglet from me? A female.”
“I – I have no money!” said Flynn.
Maelyn stood, tugging Flynn to his feet. “Go to the pens behind the castle and choose a female piglet. Princess Shulay will help you, she tends our animals. Later, when you’ve grown your herd, give me one of your pigs. That will be your payment.”
Flynn’s eyes grew wide. “I – I will! Thank you, my lady!” He ran for the door, hugging the piglet to his chest. Maelyn smiled. If books could have litters she’d be just as happy.
As Flynn tugged open the door to the throne room, Maelyn heard heavy clomping in the outer corridor. Before she could even wonder, a man pushed into the room, impressively stout, with a well-shaped salt-and-pepper beard.
Maelyn gasped. She grabbed the pink skirt of her gown and sank into her deepest curtsy.
“Hello, Uncle Jarrod.”
Chapter 7
A half hour later, the nine princesses stood before Maelyn’s throne - now Uncle Jarrod’s throne. He clutched a cavernous goblet of wine and chuckled. “After fifteen years, one would think I’d know the names of my nieces.” He had a deep voice, strong as a pounding drum. “Remind me.”
The princesses sighed collectively. This ritual came with every visit.
“Maelyn.”
“Coralina Corissa.”
“Heidel.”
“Briette.”
“Lace.”
“Jaedis.”
“Shulay.”
“Ivy.”
“Arialain.”
“Ha!” Uncle Jarrod took several gulps from his goblet. He smiled at Coralina. “Yes, I remember. You’re Coco.”
“Yes, Uncle!” Coralina flashed her stunning grin. “You never forget me.”
Maelyn rolled her eyes. Coralina’s black curls and dramatic purple eyes made her everyone’s favorite. Uncle Jarrod would soon forget the other names and go back to calling them all “Princess.”
Uncle Jarrod’s smile faded when he turned to Maelyn. “What have you done with the servants?”
“Gone,” said Maelyn. She watched him steadily, refusing to look ashamed.
“When did you expel them?”
“Seven months ago. Just after Father’s death.”
Uncle Jarrod dipped into his goblet again. For a moment, Maelyn suspected he took the drink to hide a smile. “Why?”
“Never mind why,” said Maelyn.
Uncle Jarrod set his goblet on the arm of the throne and leaned forward. “What?”
“The reason is unimportant.” Maelyn kept her tone firm though her heart began to hammer.
“She hasn’t told any of us,” said Coralina, her voice smooth as cream.
“How can you live a respectable life without servants?” Uncle Jarrod asked.
“Quite easily,” said Maelyn. “The castle is small. And we are many.”
Coralina gave a short laugh. “Now you get to hear about the ‘system’.”
Uncle Jarrod frowned. “The system?”
Maelyn sighed, reluctant to explain what would only disgust him. But she had to.
The system was simple: nine princesses, nine duties divided. The castle chores could be organized into nine general tasks. If each princess took a task, they wouldn’t need servants. They wouldn’t need anyone.
Convincing her sisters had been far less simple.
“What do you mean ‘we’ll do the work’?” Coralina had demanded from the depths of her rosewater bath.
Maelyn held out the list of duties she’d written. She had given each job a title, hoping her sisters would find that appealing. “Just one. And I’m letting you pick first.”
Coralina poked her lip forward as her gaze brushed the list. “Throne Princess,” she said instantly.
“Sorry. That’s taken.”
“You said I was first!” Coralina cried, sloshing scented water out of the tub.
“Naturally. First after me.”
Coralina’s eyes narrowed and Maelyn half-expected a cake of soap to be flung at her head. But another glance at the list seemed to tilt Coralina’s thoughts. “What would the ‘Festivity Princess’ do?”
Maelyn smiled. “Anything to amuse visitors to the castle: banquets, balls, even theater if you like.”
Coralina twirled a black curl around her finger. “Well, if I have to….”
Each sister chose the task that best suited her talents, except Arialain who received the list last. “Door Princess? But….”
“It’s perfect for you, Ari,” said Maelyn. “Just answer the door when someone knocks. What could be simpler?” She took Arialain’s sigh for acceptance.
Seven months later, life inside the castle ran as smoothly as wool through a spinning wheel, with only occasional snarls in their daily thread. No harm had come from her unconventional method.
Silence followed Maelyn’s speech. Uncle Jarrod regarded her with glass-cold eyes. “Fifteen years ago, your parents turned nine ragamuffin peasants into royal princesses. Now you would turn those princesses back into peasants?”
“No!” said Maelyn. “I just-”
“We… we don’t mind much,” Arialain spoke up. “Just Coco… and sometimes Lace-”
“Snap it, Ari!” said Coralina. “We hate it – all of us! If I was ruling the kingdom, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Hmm. An interesting thought.” Uncle Jarrod drained his goblet and loomed out of the throne. Without looking at Maelyn, he grabbed her cloak and scepter off a small table and carried them down the steps.
“What are you doing?” Maelyn asked sharply.
Uncle Jarrod beckoned Coralina forward. He draped the ivory cape around her shoulders. “While I am visiting, Coco will be Throne Princess. Let us see who bears the title… more worthily.”
Coralina smiled at Maelyn. Like a smug child who just snatched away her favorite toy.
“You may go.” Uncle Jarrod waved them all away. But as the sisters turned to leave he said, “Not you, Princess.”
Maelyn stopped. Though she never cursed, the words leapt forward in her mind.
Her sisters trickled out, Coralina trailing the cape behind her like a peacock with new feathers. Uncle Jarrod climbed back up to the throne and waved at his goblet. “Fill that.”
Maelyn carried the goblet to the kitchen and returned with it brimful of mulberry wine. Uncle Jarrod drank the entire goblet before speaking.
Maelyn’s heart grew mournful as she watched him. So like her father – grand stature, powerful voice, prominent features. But without Father’s joy, Father’s gentleness.
Uncle Jarrod lowered the cup and studied the jewels bedecking the rim. “Now,” he said, “You will tell me.”
Maelyn shook her head. “I won’t.”
He twirled the goblet in his thick fingers. “Bear in mind, Princess, you cannot be queen until your twentieth year. Until that time, I can always decide you are… unfitting for it. Coralina may be better.”
“Coralina cannot rule herself, let alone a kingdom,” Maelyn snapped.
Uncle Jarrod smiled. “We shall see. In seven days I return to Grunwold. Before that time you will give me your reason for dismissing the servants. Or I shall name Coralina the next successor to this throne.”
He held out the goblet. “Fill that.”
Chapter 8
Maelyn stormed out of the castle, wrapped in a rose-colored cloak that reached her ankles. The chill of twilight did nothing to cool her rage. She needed a place to walk long and fast.
The castle sat atop a broad hill, mountains rising behind and forest sloping below. All of Runa had been built on land that rose gradually into the mountains, each town and village slightly higher than the one before it. Maelyn crossed the cl
earing to the fringe of Lumen Forest.
She took the Wending Way, a narrow trail that wiggled and squirmed a clumsy route through the forest, meandering around ponds and slipping between trees. Maelyn stomped down the hill, stumbling over roots as anger blinded her steps.
Why had Uncle Jarrod come? Why did he not wait for a messenger’s return? It was unlike him to visit without notice. Unlike him to leave Grunwold at all, where he governed more kingdoms than he could name from memory.
His behavior was odd. For one thing, he had insisted on taking Father’s bedchamber rather than the larger room he normally used. And he questioned her about Father’s belongings until she assured him nothing had been moved or changed since his death. Since Uncle Jarrod possessed the sentimentality of a lump of coal, Maelyn couldn’t imagine why he should care about this.
Her tromp dwindled to a weary amble. She didn’t want to turn back but the forest darkened with every step. If she didn’t hurry, she’d be groping her way back up the hill.
Maelyn stopped suddenly.
Hushed voices, very close.
She turned to the sound but saw only the bulging trunk of a Lumen tree. Her mind flashed images of bandits, assassins, invaders. But no… she knew one of those voices.
She crept around the tree, sliding her hands over the marble-smooth trunk. Halfway around she stopped and stared ahead of her.
They stood between two trees that leaned together, forming a pointed niche between their trunks. The young girl’s hands lay comfortably on the man’s shoulders and she whispered something that clearly pleased them both. The man’s fingers slid through the girl’s silk-fine hair as he listened.
Maelyn stood straight and tall. “Arialain!”
Chapter 9
Arialain gasped and jerked away from the man. Maelyn recognized him now. Tofer, son of a merchant in Merridell. Barely seventeen years, and nearly as short as Arialain. He regarded Maelyn with calm amusement, as though enjoying her discomfort.
Maelyn’s fury found no words. She rushed forward and seized Arialain’s arm. “Home! Now!” She tugged Arialain up the trail without a backward look at Tofer. Arialain sobbed immediately. “M-Mae, please don’t-”
“Not a word!” Maelyn snapped. “Have you forgotten everything Mother wanted of us? The son of a merchant!”
“I don’t care!” Arialain cried. She looked back for Tofer but darkness and thick trees hid the path below them. “We’re not… we’re not princesses, not really!”
Maelyn dropped Arialain’s arm in shock. She faced her squarely. “Is that what you believe? Truly? That we’re not real?”
Arialain shrugged, wiping away her tears. “When Mother and Father lived, it was real. To them we were princesses. But they’re gone now and… and no one believes it anymore.”
Maelyn’s heart went cold. “How do you know? Who’s saying that?”
Arialain shrugged again. “Tofer says… some people think we are living a lie. That we’re… imposters… and not princesses.”
The mention of Tofer heated Maelyn’s blood again. “Whether you believe it or not, whether they believe it or not, we are princesses.” She gripped Arialain’s arm and pulled her up the jagged path again. “I won’t let you throw that away – not on a merchant’s son.”
Chapter 10
“I failed you, my lady.”
Maelyn rested her forehead on her fingertips. She had taken breakfast in her library to avoid Uncle Jarrod, but misfortune sought her like a hunter.
“Don’t fret, Willow.” Maelyn sat in a chair by the unlit fireplace. Her feet rested on a padded footstool and she held a plate of warm biscuits in her lap. “The Book Miser is stubborn. And he never liked me.”
“Can’t see why, my lady.” Willow stood by Maelyn’s feet and seemed uncomfortable to be looking down on her. Though she normally didn’t note such things, his pale blue tunic and darker blue cloak effectively set off his golden hair.
Maelyn smiled. “That’s kind of you, Willow. Now, why didn’t the Book Miser want my book?”
Willow grimaced. “He said he never liked The Finicky Fairy. Said the story is too old, folk are tired of it. Said the book itself is too plain, no jewels on the cover or illuminated pages.”
Maelyn sighed. “If I offered one of my finer books, he’d give his rattiest volume in return.” She set her plate aside and rose from her chair. “Still, I’m desperate for something new to read.”
She searched the shelves for something ornate, an attractive cover to entice the miser. She felt Willow watching her. “Do you enjoy books?” she asked to ease the silence.
“I do, my lady,” said Willow. “I notice there are nine chairs in here. Do your sisters use the library often?”
Maelyn pulled The Carnivorous Carriage from a shelf. A creepy tale should suit the miser. And the pages had been edged in gold. “We have The Royal Reading Hour every night after supper. Some of my sisters enjoy it. Not Coralina.”
Willow laughed, startling Maelyn into laughing too. It felt good, lightening her heart.
“I never got along with my sister Maple,” said Willow. “Mother once said if the two of us were kingdoms we would always be at war.”
Maelyn’s brow pinched. “Willow… do you feel you belong to your family even though they took you in? Do you ever think your life isn’t… real?”
Willow looked puzzled, then his face softened with understanding. “My dear lady, of course you are real.”
Maelyn hadn’t expected him to read her so thoroughly. She thrust The Carnivorous Carriage into his hands and hurried for the door. “Try that. See if the Book Miser will take it.”
Chapter 11
“I’d forgotten how small this castle is,” said Uncle Jarrod. “One could almost call it a manor.”
Maelyn gave him the strained smile she’d worn all afternoon. “We prefer it small. Less trouble to care for.”
They walked along the corridor that led to most of the bedchambers. Uncle Jarrod had instructed Maelyn to open the doors and then he’d sauntered around each room, scrutinizing every corner. She wondered if he expected to find the chambers riddled with mice and cobwebs since the servants had gone.
Uncle Jarrod’s own servant trailed behind them, a short, sallow man with droopy eyes. He neither spoke nor looked directly at her, but Maelyn felt his gaze when she turned away. She wished Uncle Jarrod hadn’t brought him. But she knew her uncle could not even change his shoes without assistance.
“Who does the cleaning?” Uncle Jarrod asked, clearly impressed with the immaculate rooms. Maelyn tried not to look smug. “Briette – the Chamber Princess. She’s very efficient.”
They turned into a tower at the corridor’s end and started up a winding stair. “What’s up here?” Uncle Jarrod asked. He looked cramped on the curling staircase, barely wider than himself.
“You haven’t seen Arialain’s chamber,” said Maelyn. “Hers is highest in the castle.”
“I don’t envy her climbing up here every night,” Uncle Jarrod grumbled. He turned to the sallow servant. “My strength is waning. Fetch me some wine, and cold venison if they have it.”
“We have it,” said Maelyn, glad to see the servant go.
The stair ended abruptly at Arialain’s chamber door. Maelyn turned the latch and let Uncle Jarrod in.
“Holy Noses!” Uncle Jarrod cried. “Barely more than a cupboard!”
The bed hoarded nearly all the floor space, begrudging a few corners for a chair, a wardrobe, and a scarlet trunk. Still, a red coverlet brightened the bed, painted apple trees adorned the walls, and the window gushed with sunlight. Maelyn thought the room looked cheery.
Uncle Jarrod shook his head. “My washwomen sleep in larger chambers.”
Maelyn stepped past Uncle Jarrod and sat on the bed. She planted her hands on either side of her and turned hard eyes on the king. “All right, Uncle. I want to know why you are here.”
Uncle Jarrod frowned. “I am visiting.”
“You visit less
than once a year,” said Maelyn. “We saw you last at Father’s burial; I expected no more of you for eighteen months. You arrived here without sending word and you’re taking an unnatural interest in our welfare. I want to know why.”
Uncle Jarrod sunk onto the single chair and its slim wooden legs creaked in shock at his weight. “I did not expect your father to die before your twentieth year. It changes things.”
“How?” Maelyn asked.
Uncle Jarrod rested a hand on his knee and looked at her steadily. “This life you’ve been given. In a castle. As a princess. Do you think you deserve it?”
“I know you never approved of what Father did,” Maelyn said tersely.
“Nor am I the only one who doubted the wisdom of raising nine urchins into royalty. But that wasn’t my question.”
Maelyn’s eyes dropped to his blue velvet shoes. “I never thought I deserved this life. None of us do – except maybe Coralina. It was a gift.”
“And have you ever thought there may be someone… more deserving of this gift?” Uncle Jarrod asked, his words measured and careful.
Goosebumps prickled Maelyn’s arms. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She heard the servant clomping up the stairs, no doubt bearing the king’s wine and cold venison. Uncle Jarrod leaned back with an expectant smile. “We can talk of this later. Just think on what I said.”
But Maelyn no longer wanted to talk or think about it.
Chapter 12
Only Coralina could flirt from the throne.
Maelyn didn’t know how, but word that Princess Coralina now ruled over Runa spread faster than Red Fever. Every unwed nobleman the realm possessed appeared at her throne. Knights, especially. Coralina had always favored knights.
“What do you think, Sir Gwyn? Will I make a pretty queen?” She grinned at the stalwart young man nearest her throne.
“Prettiest of a hundred kingdoms!” Sir Gwyn cried.