Stupid Girl

by Mary E. Twomey

  He took my hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. “I’m sorry I’m not going out there with you. Urien’s right. If I stand with you, the people will expect me to fight all their battles for them, and I’m not willing to seal my allegiance like that. The second I don’t show, they’ll blame you for my absence, and you’ll be in the line of fire.”

  I snuggled into him, cherishing the friendship that had bloomed between us. “You don’t have to be sorry for that. I totally get it. I won’t be alone up there. Just make sure my dad is safe, okay? I don’t like being so far away from him.”

  “You’re only going to the town’s square. It’s not more than a mile into the city. Then you’ll come straight home to me.”

  “Of course.” I sighed. “It’ll be good to see Bastien again. I know he’s been working hard, but man. I miss seeing my boyfriend, you know?” I’d mostly healed from being stabbed, and he’d been nowhere around for most of the whole ordeal.

  Kerdik gave me a curt nod, but nothing more until we reached the kitchen door that led out back to the stables. He was hiding something.

  They all were.

  Friendly Chat with Benoit

  The coach with two horses made me feel like Cinderella, and the coachman bowed to me when I approached. He wore an emerald-colored dress jacket, and had focused eyes that seemed to be seeing and sifting through everything in his periphery. I’d still not grown accustomed to all the formalities, and insisted on shaking his hand instead of merely accepting that yes, I’m above him, and yes, he should totally bow down. A simple handshake felt like a much better way to seal things, even if it confused the poor guy.

  Draper trotted down the trail to the stables with Abraham Lincoln and Hamish by his side, waving for us to wait for him. “It’s just you and me, I guess,” he said, offering his hand for me to use to hoist myself up into the green painted coach. “Up you get, Ro.”

  I sat back in the coach, thumbing my skirt that draped like a waterfall down my legs. It wasn’t a poofy dress, like the ones Morgan preferred me to wear. This one cut just below my bust, and fell steadily to the floor, dusting my gold sandals when I moved. “Um, where’s Mad and Bastien? I thought you sent word to them that this was a big deal.”

  Draper nodded, motioning for the coach to get going. Kerdik kissed his fingers and waved them in the air at me when we took off, a sadness in his eyes that I couldn’t quite place. “I did. They couldn’t make it.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip to keep the selfish words from spilling out of me. “I guess that’s fair. I mean, they’re working hard to build that wall to keep Morgan’s soldiers out. Can’t really complain about that. I guess there are worse things than your boyfriend being a workaholic, especially when his work keeps hundreds of thousands of families safe.” I glanced out the window at the trees that rushed by us. I could hear Abraham Lincoln running beside the coach and saw he had Hamish clinging to his fur. Just that little assurance helped me to relax. “It’s kind of heroic, if you think about it.”

  “Bastien doesn’t deserve you. I can’t believe after this many days, that you’re not mad at him for ditching.”

  “But he’s not ditching. He’s rebuilding Lane’s kingdom. As much as I wish he was here, I can’t be selfish. Not now that I’ve got a whole province to think about.” I tried to be the adult, but the childish insecurity in me flared up.

  Draper pulled the golden drapes of the coach closed, and tucked me into his side. “Careful, now.”

  “Careful of what?”

  “Nothing. Just sit back with your old brother and relax a little before we get there. You want to go over your speech again?”

  “No, I’ve got it locked in.” I tapped my temple. “Thanks for helping me memorize it. That’s a job that usually falls to Lane or Judah.”

  “Well, I’m family now, so it’s my pleasure to help where I can.”

  The coach wobbled, making me slightly car sick by the time we got to the Town Square. A crier had been there, gathering the people and ringing the giant gong of a bell so that everyone would be around for the grand speech I was pretty sure I would screw up. Draper got out first, and I noticed his palm teasing the hilt of his sword when he offered his other hand to help me out of the coach. He was worried, and that gave me no uncertain amount of discomfort. I wished Lane, Reyn, Remy and Damond were back already. Politics wasn’t really my thing.

  I kept my chin high and a pleasant smile on my face as the crowd shouted their greetings to us. I waved like the celebrity I pretended to be as Draper walked with me to the platform in the middle of the square. The crowd parted for us, most with reverent bows, but a few, I realized, wore angry sneers. I tried not to let my fear show, but kept my smile as steady as I could when Draper led me up the steps onto the open platform that had a 360-degree audience I couldn’t escape.

  I was supposed to give a speech, but everyone was talking and shouting – some happy greetings, and others that were angry and violent. “String her up! She’s no better than her mother!”

  I held tight to Draper’s hand, unsure what I should do. Going with the prepared speech didn’t seem quite right anymore, not that anyone could hear me if I did. The shouting was directed at me, but eventually the people started arguing with each other, throwing down gauntlets over whether I was innocent or not. The din grew to an unsettling volume, and I was scared at what chaos might go down if I didn’t get ahold of the madness right quick. Even the trees that fanned out in a perfect circle to encompass the Town Square seemed to be warning me with their swaying branches, saying, “Oh, girl, we could’ve told you this would go badly.”

  My eyes scanned the crowd for an angry face, landing on a nearby one who held up a sign he painted. It had some words written across it under a picture of me with a dagger in my bloody hands. The art was actually pretty impressive, though I knew my boobs weren’t that big. “You there! Come up here so I can talk to you.”

  The man, content to boil in his own disgruntled fury, tried to suppress a shock of worry at being called out. I learned from the social media life in Common that everyone could be super brave behind the anonymity of a computer or a crowd, but face-to-face? People tend to recall their humanity when they remember the one they’re jeering at is an actual person with flaws not too different from their own. The dude obeyed after a grimace of nerves, coming up onto the stage, much to the uproar of the crowd. Draper was in my ear with a fretful, “What are you doing?”

  I tried to ignore everyone, and stuck my hand out to the stranger. “Hi. I’m Rosie. Can you speak for the people who’re pissed at me?”

  His sweaty face was pink, but he didn’t shrink away from the mission of the protestors. He was there to make sure I knew he was upset, so I made certain he got his audience with me in front of Province 9. There were easily fifty thousand people fanned out from the stage, and I felt the pangs of Britney Spears being on trial for cutting her bangs. “I sure can,” he spouted, as if I’d asked him something offensive. “There are many of us who demand you see the gallows for what you did to Duke Roland!” His voice boomed out far louder than mine, so I knew I’d chosen the right jag. Everyone fell quiet finally, wanting to hear the sparring that would add clarity to the province-wide argument over my guilt.

  “Cool. What’s your name?”

  “Benoit of Province 4,” he answered with a sneer, as if his name was supposed to mean something to me.

  It friggin’ didn’t, so I refused to cower. “Nice to meet you.” Then I turned to the crowd, most of whom were afraid to have me so near Benoit, but many who were ravenous that he tear me apart. I chose to have faith in the basic rules of society that most dark deeds were done in secret, and that with it being midday, I didn’t have to worry about Benoit trying to gut me in public. I tried to speak as loud as I could, and thankfully, the crowd fell silent to accommodate me. “There seems to be a problem with how Duke Roland’s death was handled. I’ve got loads of things to talk to you all about today, but if you’d rathe
r start out with that, I’ve got nothing to hide. Benoit and I are going to hash this out, so I suggest everyone get good and comfortable, so you all hear what went down and why.” Then I took a chance and sat down on the floor of the wooden platform, spreading my skirt out around me so my crossed legs were covered. I motioned to Benoit. “If you want to have a heated conversation with me, you’ll sit down and talk like a gentleman.”

  “I’ll speak how I wish,” he spouted, ignoring the fact that most of the crowd shifted to sit in the dust to follow my lead of peacefully resolving the upset in the land.

  I looked up at him, trying to appear unruffled, and like I had all the time in the world. “Fine, then mouth off to someone else. Don’t tell me you’re so bull-headed that when a princess offers you an exclusive interview, you waste it by being prideful. If you want answers, play by the rules. Sit down and set a good example. Honor Duke Roland’s life by getting to the truth, instead of flying off the handle and causing chaos in the land he loved.” I frowned up at him. “I won’t stand for you disrespecting Duke Roland like this, stirring up chaos when actual answers are right in front of you.”

  I held Benoit’s gaze until he sat down. He appeared sullen that his brutish protest and anger wouldn’t triumph in one fell swoop. “Fine. But we demand you answer for Duke Roland’s death.”

  That’s what I just friggin’ said I would do, jag. I sat up with my spine erect on the platform, keeping my voice loud enough to carry when everyone was leaning in to listen. Draper stood between us, his arms crossed over his chest to moderate. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Let’s start with the blunt truth. Duke Roland was upset that I came back to Avalon. He saw that I was friends with Kerdik, and that I was trying to get my hands on the gems. My goal this entire time has been to return the jewels to the provinces they came from, which is what I’ve done. Duke Roland misunderstood, and thought I wanted to keep them for myself.”

  This brought about a lot of murmuring, which was hard to talk over. Draper’s hand went up, and the crowd stilled at his silent command.

  “I thought that anger would’ve died down after the rulers who were still alive got their jewels back, but Duke Roland didn’t want me anywhere near the throne.”

  “Neither do we!” Benoit shouted, his fist in the air. His loyalists pumped their fists in the air alongside him.

  “Then why are you here? If you hate the way things are this much, then why not go back to Morgan?”

  “Because this is our land, too. We won’t have you chasing us out of it.”

  “I welcomed you here.” I quirked my eyebrow at him, my thumbs playing with a thread on my skirt. “You’re really that afraid of me? I’ve never chased anyone out of here. Lane, Draper, Damond and I opened our gates to anyone who wanted to escape from Morgan. Is there something more I’m supposed to be doing here that you’re all pissed at me for?”

  “Duchess Elaine left her people to look after you. We belong to this land more than you do, and certainly more than she does.”

  “Hello, King Urien told her to take me and go. At what point do you think you’re so awesome that you’d flat out disobey the King of Avalon? What makes you think Duchess Elaine would tell King Urien to go screw himself? If my dad was standing here right now, and he gave you a direct command, I’d like to hear you say, ‘Screw you, Urien.’” I paused for the collective gasp of the masses at the mere suggestion of such disrespect toward their beloved king. “Lane obeyed the law of the land, and you’re punishing her for it. That’s subjective obedience to the throne you’re screaming should be protected. Is that the kind of man you want to be?”

  That shut Benoit up temporarily until he found another argument he no doubt felt confident he could win. “Why was Duke Roland put to death without ceremony?” This brought about a few murmurs from the crowd.

  “Because Duke Roland stabbed me three times. I’m pretty sure you all know the basic rules of the kingdom. I’m only just learning them myself, so you tell me what happens to someone who attacks the throne. Tell me what your rules state, and how we violated them.”

  Benoit’s jaw was clenched, and he didn’t speak.

  Draper was standing between us with his arms crossed. I could hear the steel in his voice when he opened his mouth. “You’ll answer your princess when she asks you a direct question.”

  Benoit’s reply was grudging. He clenched his fists, and I could tell he hated that we were sitting. There was so much that could happen in the throngs of chaos, so much he could get away with. He was bigger than me when we were standing. Sitting, we were pretty much on a level playing field. “They’re stripped of their title and put to death without a funeral, then buried in an unmarked grave.”

  I nodded. “Sucks, huh. I didn’t want that for Roland. In fact, I saw to it his body was shipped off and buried with his mother and father in his family’s crypt in the old Province 4.” That had been a long back and forth with Draper, which thankfully, I’d won in the end. “It’s not much, but no one’s trying to piss you all off. The rules exist for a reason. As much as you might hate me for reasons I don’t understand and can’t control, we can’t have people going around attacking the throne at random. Duke Roland stabbed me three times, and I’m still not sure why. He seemed angry that Duchess Lane and I came back, and even though he wanted us to restore Province 9 and unite the flailing provinces, he didn’t want me on the throne.” I shrugged. “I can understand that.”

  “We don’t want you on the throne, either.” He spat in my direction, causing Abraham Lincoln to roar, and Hamish to raise his fist in anger. Several nearby villagers cursed Benoit for such a display.

  I nodded, petting my bear who sat almost as tall as I was when I was standing. He’d been circling the stage, letting out chuffs of warning that he was no tame bear. My baby was getting to be such a big boy. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that, then. It’s hard to live in a place where you don’t like the person in charge. That happens on occasion in Common, too. I really am sorry I’m disappointing you all so much. I don’t know enough about Avalon to get it all perfect.” Then an idea sparked in my mind. “Could you write me a list?”

  Benoit’s mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

  “A list. Could you write down all the complaints about how things are being run that are upsetting to you? I can’t promise I’ll be able to fix them all, but I can at least listen and talk with Duchess Lane and Prince Draper and Damond about them.”

  Benoit was red-faced, and he spluttered several times before his words came out. “You… You’re trying to turn things around! You’re trying to prey on our emotions.”

  My nose crunched. “By listening to you? Would you rather I ignored you completely?” I harrumphed, on the edge of my waning patience. “Look, if you don’t want to try and make Avalon better, then don’t. But you should probably stop complaining if you’re not willing to help out by at least talking about what’s wrong, like a grownup. It’s easy to throw a fit. Any baby can do it. Are you a baby?”

  “No,” Benoit spouted, his frown comically petulant.

  “Actually help your country, is all I’m asking.”

  “We have no proof of these supposed stabbings,” he argued.

  I’m not sure what he was expecting, but when I stood and flipped my skirt up to reveal the knife wounds that were still on the road to healing, the entire crowd gasped. I’m not sure which was the bigger scandal – that I’d been stabbed three times by a duke, or that my thighs were on display. I empathized greatly with Britney Spears, having to prove so much of herself just because jackholes with a Twitter account demanded it. “That proof enough?” I asked Benoit with a pleasant smile on my face.

  Draper lowered his chin and covered his eyes in chagrin. “That’ll do, Rosie.”

  “How did Duke Roland die?” Benoit roared, cutting to the chase the moment I sat back down on the platform. “How terrible was his death? How gruesome? By whose hand did he breathe his last? Was there even a trial?�
�

  Even though Mad hadn’t shown up to come with me and play the dutiful fiancé, I couldn’t rat him out to the angry crowd. “I did. I killed Roland.” I held up my hand to stifle the shock of the crowd, and silence Draper’s angry protest at my lie. My arm trembled as my nerves built, but I held my ground. The Untouchables protected me, and now it was my turn to guard them.

  I heard a ripple of shock and awe as one by one, people pointed to my tattooed hand. I tried to ignore the whispers, grateful that the curls brushing my neck covered over the more noticeable tattoo. I refastened the waves that had come loose, so both tattoos were on display to the people, declaring that I was Untouchable. “You all know that my father’s been in a deep sleep for twenty-one years, right?” I waited for the bobs of the heads before continuing. “Well, I don’t think it’s all that big a shock to tell you that Morgan poisoned him, and imprisoned him in his own body.” I cleared my throat at the murmurs of sadness that held fewer gasps of surprise than I’d been expecting. “Well, Master Kerdik’s been working around the clock to try and break through the spells Morgan locked King Urien with, but he couldn’t. Come to find out, Roland put an extra layer of the curse on my father to keep him asleep. That’s why he stabbed me; because I wouldn’t go along with his threats. So he kept my father asleep – your king – as a way to make me obey.”

  I’d hoped a soft “Oh, snap” would break out over the crowd as realization dawned on them that Roland had many layers of deception they’d not been exposed to. However, the roars of the crowd only grew in number and in volume as outrage poured in from every angle. “No, Duke Roland would never!” was put up against, “They should’ve hung Roland’s body from the highest tree for hurting King Urien!”

  I held up my hands, and eventually the crowd calmed back down. “None of you have to take my word for it. I’m hoping my dad will be able to tell you all of this himself in another few days. He’s doing his best to come back to you. I know the story sounds off, and you all don’t know me well enough to just take my word for it. So don’t. Wait until my dad can tell you all that Morgan was behind it. He can tell you about Duke Roland’s additional poisoning, too.”