I know. I'm terrible at getting anything done.
I participated in NaNoWriMo this past November, which was amazing fun. I started a novel in the same universe as this story here, but it isn't about princesses. It actually centered on a peasant guy who goes on pirate adventures. I think I was calling it Vaedan's Tale last I checked... If anyone wants to read it, I'd be happy to share. It's neither finished nor edited, but it's over 53k words and nearing the ending. I've been meaning to just sit down and spend a few days finishing it, but I haven't gotten around to that yet.
Anyway, I do have a beginning for Chapter 6 and intentions to finish that by the end of the semester. If I could write half as much per month as I did in November, I could have a considerable amount of story written.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Monday, July 6, 2009
Update :D
Sorry it took so long to get Ch 5 up. After starting it last February, I took a really big break from writing. I got kinda stuck after one sentence and didn't wanna sit and fix it. Then, while on vacation, I had been writing out what I had so far in a pretty journal I got for my birthday, and I finished doing that, then I thought, I should finish the fifth chapter so I can write that one in, too! So, that's what I've done this week! :D It's not edited yet, but I don't think it really needs much. I'll look over it, but I probably won't change anything big. I have been keeping a notebook with all my ideas, though, and that's been very helpful, because I'm good at forgetting my ideas. :P I may end up writing a fifth book about my new princess, Alexandra Elinor :D
Also, http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dxcxs2p_6hsx44dg6&hl=en
That's another place to read my story, if you'd rather read it there. It updates more often, though not usually in full chapters. Maybe I'll get Ch 6 up by the end of the year! :P
Also, http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dxcxs2p_6hsx44dg6&hl=en
That's another place to read my story, if you'd rather read it there. It updates more often, though not usually in full chapters. Maybe I'll get Ch 6 up by the end of the year! :P
Chapter V
Jonathan’s eyes fluttered open to the light of sunset coming through the little window, which faced the west, illuminating the little chamber in which he had been sleeping. He pulled himself up into a sitting position and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, trying to recall where he was. As he pulled himself off the bed, memories of that morning came flooding back to him, and he had to sit back down, overwhelmed. For a moment, he thought it all must have been a dream; after all, it was so fantastic that it was hardly realistic. Where he was and what was in front of him, however, did not coincide with his idea of realistic, either. Still, that didn't mean that he really was a guest in the royal palace; such a thing was too good to be true.
As his mind cleared of the fog of sleep, Jonathan's eyes drifted over the room to which he had been taken by the frizzy-haired girl. He had been too exhausted, before his nap, to thoroughly examine his surroundings. With the rich tapestries hung on the stone walls, it definitely looked like the inside of a castle, but Jon still was not convinced. So, he stood up and walked over to the little window, through which all the sunlight was shining.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see, but it certainly was nothing compared to the astounding view that the window afforded. He was up so high! He could barely believe that the girl had led him up to such a height. Looking down, the people walking in the courtyard below him appeared to be no larger than the ants he had liked to watch as a child. He felt like he must be flying, he was up so very high. It looked as though he could reach out and touch the clouds, which were pink with sunset. What amazed him the most, though, was just how far he could see. From his vantage point, he could see the entire western side of Cavelnar.
For a moment, he imagined that he could see all the way to his family's farm, and a wave of homesickness washed over him. Just now, his brothers, Henry and Elliot; and his uncle, Jesse, would be finishing their work. His mother, Joanna; his aunt, Amelia; and Berta would be preparing the evening meal, while Rebecca would be occupying Tessy on the floor. His father, Frank, would be sitting in his rocking chair by the door, like everyday, and perhaps he would be smoking his pipe. Jonathan missed them all dreadfully. He hadn't seen them in over a year, and not a day went by when he didn't think of them. It was getting better, though. Recently, he had come to think of Sir Steven's as a second home. How far away it all seemed now!
Jonathan was so lost in his memories of home that he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door. For a moment, he feared that whoever was at the door had come to send him away; after all, this was too good for him to believe that it could actually last. He did not ponder this for long, however; there was no sense in that. Instead, he walked steadily to the door and gently pulled it open, to find the same little girl he had met before his nap grinning up at him and holding a tray of food.
“Hello, Jonathan! Look what I've brought you,” the girl said brightly as she brushed past him and into the room. “I know you must be famished! I'm sorry I didn't bring you anything sooner, but we've all been so busy with preparing for tonight's banquet that it completely slipped my mind.” She set the tray down on the table beneath the window and turned to look at him. “Well now, don't you look nice after your bath,” she observed before climbing up to sit on the bed.
Jonathan blushed crimson at the girl's compliment. He was mentally frazzled by the familiarity of her quick, cheerful speech. He stuttered his thanks awkwardly as she grinned at him, her short legs dangling from her seat on his bed. Upon examining the girl, he noted, “Well, you look pretty nice, too. For a girl, anyway.”
“Yes, well, Nana made me take a bath too. I'm supposed to stay all clean and neat because we're having a big banquet tonight, but it's just so hard!” she lamented as Jonathan sat in the chair and began to eat his dinner. “And it's not like a bath makes me look so much better, anyway,” she added mournfully, “A bath can't make my hair stop being all frizzy and messy, and a bath can't make me any less skinny. Nana says that I'll grow out of it someday, but I'm not so sure she's right. Anyway, it's not like it bothers me that much... I lost my front teeth! Wanna see?” the girl asked randomly. Then, she grinned wide, showing Jonathan the space where her front teeth had been. He was caught off guard by her quick change of subject and, having nothing to say, merely ooohed and continued eating. She continued cheerfully, “I would show you the teeth, but Nana took them away. She didn't like it when I carried them around with me, because she said it was gross.” She pouted at this fact, crossing her arms over her chest in frustration. After a moment of silence to mourn the lack of teeth in her pockets, she asked, “So, Jonathan, where do you live?”
Surprised that she was letting him get a word in at all, Jon replied, “I live at the home of Sir Steven. I work in his stables, but today-”
“You work in his stables?” the girl asked, interrupting him, suddenly alert and interested, “Does that mean that you get to work with his horses? All the time?” After his confirmation of this fact, she continued enthusiastically, “Oh, how splendid it must be! Ah, to spend all day with those beautiful, elegant animals! It must be heavenly.” Now, Jonathan did not find it very heavenly or splendid to shovel horse dung all day. He kept such thoughts to himself, however, for he enjoyed hearing her speak of such an ideal situation. She continued blissfully, “I do so wish I could spend the whole day with horses. I love them so! But Nana won't let me ride one. She says I'm too short, but I think she's wrong. I'm plenty tall enough! Don't you think so?”
Jonathan did not know how to respond to this, for he, in fact, did not think that Lydia was in any way tall enough to be riding horses, but he did not know how to tell the girl that without upsetting her dreadfully. Hesitantly, he attempted to reply calmly, “Well, you know, Lydia-”
“You think she's right!” she interrupted him in anger, leaping off the bed to stand in front of him, “You don't think I'm big enough to ride a horse! Well you know what? I am big enough. I've grown three inches this year! And I've lost four teeth!” she fumed, her pain at his opinion evident on her face. She looked as though she was about to cry, and Jonathan instantly tried to soothe the unhappy girl.
“Oh, Lydia, it's not that I don't think you're not old enough or smart enough. It's just that you're so small, and I'm afraid that horses are so big that you'd get hurt,” he said anxiously.
“Well, it's not like that's my fault!” Lydia responded miserably, her eyes filling with tears. “It's not like I don't try to be taller, but I can't make myself grow faster! I mean, how old do you think I look?” she asked him, suddenly, eerily calm. Jonathan did not know how he could answer her question without upsetting her, but he didn't have to, because she continued before he could get a word in at all, “Most people think I'm only eight or nine years old, on account of my short stature, but I'm not. I turned eleven this past summer. Eleven!” her voice grew louder, and she was no longer so calm. In fact, she was growing rather upset again as she continued, “I'm already eleven years old, and everybody still treats me like I'm a baby! It's not fair!!”
“I don't understand,” Jonathan confessed as she stood there on the verge of tears, for he was too flustered himself to find a way to calm her. “How come you're so small? I mean, does anybody know?” Suddenly, he had a dreadful thought, and he had to ask, “Was it, I mean, did you have the plague?
“Oh, no, not the plague,” she sniffed as she wiped her eyes with a sleeve. “No, nothing like that.” Her answer brought him relief, but it did not seem to calm her much.
“Well, then why? Does it run in your family or something?” he asked impertinently.
She seemed to become almost angry at his words, but before he could take them back, she replied sourly, “Some people think so.” Upon seeing that Jon did not understand what she meant by this, she tried to explain by saying, “I grew up on the Western Islands.” These words only brought more confusion to Jon, and Lydia was growing quite frustrated with his ignorance. “Don't you know what they say about little people who're born there? They say we've got dragon's blood!” she very nearly shouted at him through the tears running afresh down her cheeks.
Jonathan was shocked at her words but still did not fully understand what she meant by her reference to the place of her birth. Even so, he did understand the insult of which she spoke; anyone from Bellen understood that. Dragons were considered to be a most primitive and savage race, and deformities or abnormalities were often blamed upon having the blood of these despised creatures. Thus, to have dragon's blood was a shameful thing, and Lydia's response to this insult was perfectly understandable. Jonathan felt great compassion for the little girl and felt compelled to comfort her. So, he pulled the child into his arms as she began to sob. “Oh, Lydia, that couldn't possibly be true,” he gently assured her, “No one who is so sweet and nice and bright as you could have dragon's blood in their veins.”
He was pleased to see his efforts rewarded when she lifted her face to look up at him hopefully and asked, “Do you really think so?”
“Of course I do!” he reassured her kindly, “I really, really do. I wouldn't lie to you. And I'll tell you what,” he added, “You may be a bit too small for horseback riding now, but if it's alright with your Nana, when you've lost all of your teeth, I'll teach you to ride myself!”
“Really, truly?” she asked him, and upon seeing him grin and nod, she hugged him tightly, burying her face in his shirt as she repeatedly thanked him. Suddenly, she pulled back to look at him, her face streaked with happy tears, and said, “Thank you so much, Jon. You're the best friend I've ever had!”
Jonathan was touched by her sincere words and her sweet, trusting embrace. He wondered how little kindness she must have met with in her life to make her feel so grateful for his friendship. He brushed the tears off her face with a hand as he replied tenderly, “Oh Lydia, you're my best friend, too”
Her face was filled with wonder, and she asked him in an awed voice, “Oh, really? Oh, Jonathan, do you really mean it?”
He was again moved by how much his friendship seemed to mean to the girl. It made him think that she really must not have found any real friends in all her life, and he was determined to show her that there were people in the world who would value her friendship, starting with him. He smiled at her and replied to her uncertainty, “Of course I mean it. I'm all alone here, and you're the only person who's taken the time to speak to me. So, yes, Lydia, you're the best friend I think I've ever had.”
She hugged him tightly again, as he gently patted her back. “Oh, Jonathan!” she said as she embraced him, “We'll be the best of friends! Best friends forever!” Suddenly, she pulled back from his arms to look him in the eye, and, very seriously and slightly hesitantly, she told him, “You know, Jonathan, I've never really had a best friend before. Have you?”
After reflecting on that for a moment, he had to reply, “You know, I don't believe I ever have, either!” He smiled at the way his words lit up her face, making her look absolutely adorable, the light of sunset glinting off the happy tears that streaked her cheeks.
Suddenly, upon glancing toward the little window, the girl nearly leaped out of his arms, appearing very flustered and upset, as she said, “Oh, my! It's so late! Oh, Nana won't be happy, and the princess will be so cross! I'm sorry,” she addressed him apologetically, “But I've got to go. They'll want my help, what with the banquet tonight, there's bound to be lots to do. They'll be wondering what's taken me so long. I'd really better go. Nana will be worried, not that she ever isn't worried.” He stood as she began to bustle around him to collect the dishes from his meal.
“Well, thank you for the meal and for keeping me company,” he said gratefully as he held the door of the chamber open for Lydia, who was holding the tray of empty dishes. “It was very nice.”
“You're very welcome,” she blushed, “I'll be back in a while to get you for the banquet. It shouldn't be long now.” Then, she looked him in the eye to ask hopefully, “And you're really going to be my best friend? Really?”
He assured her again of his sincerity, as he shooed her out of the room, reminding her of all the people waiting for her help with banquet preparations. As he closed the door behind her, he had already begun to miss the little girl's company. He was nearly heartbroken at the thought that she was so lonely and unsure of his friendship. He walked back to the small table and sat in the chair, thoughtful and impatient for the banquet to begin.
As his mind cleared of the fog of sleep, Jonathan's eyes drifted over the room to which he had been taken by the frizzy-haired girl. He had been too exhausted, before his nap, to thoroughly examine his surroundings. With the rich tapestries hung on the stone walls, it definitely looked like the inside of a castle, but Jon still was not convinced. So, he stood up and walked over to the little window, through which all the sunlight was shining.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see, but it certainly was nothing compared to the astounding view that the window afforded. He was up so high! He could barely believe that the girl had led him up to such a height. Looking down, the people walking in the courtyard below him appeared to be no larger than the ants he had liked to watch as a child. He felt like he must be flying, he was up so very high. It looked as though he could reach out and touch the clouds, which were pink with sunset. What amazed him the most, though, was just how far he could see. From his vantage point, he could see the entire western side of Cavelnar.
For a moment, he imagined that he could see all the way to his family's farm, and a wave of homesickness washed over him. Just now, his brothers, Henry and Elliot; and his uncle, Jesse, would be finishing their work. His mother, Joanna; his aunt, Amelia; and Berta would be preparing the evening meal, while Rebecca would be occupying Tessy on the floor. His father, Frank, would be sitting in his rocking chair by the door, like everyday, and perhaps he would be smoking his pipe. Jonathan missed them all dreadfully. He hadn't seen them in over a year, and not a day went by when he didn't think of them. It was getting better, though. Recently, he had come to think of Sir Steven's as a second home. How far away it all seemed now!
Jonathan was so lost in his memories of home that he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door. For a moment, he feared that whoever was at the door had come to send him away; after all, this was too good for him to believe that it could actually last. He did not ponder this for long, however; there was no sense in that. Instead, he walked steadily to the door and gently pulled it open, to find the same little girl he had met before his nap grinning up at him and holding a tray of food.
“Hello, Jonathan! Look what I've brought you,” the girl said brightly as she brushed past him and into the room. “I know you must be famished! I'm sorry I didn't bring you anything sooner, but we've all been so busy with preparing for tonight's banquet that it completely slipped my mind.” She set the tray down on the table beneath the window and turned to look at him. “Well now, don't you look nice after your bath,” she observed before climbing up to sit on the bed.
Jonathan blushed crimson at the girl's compliment. He was mentally frazzled by the familiarity of her quick, cheerful speech. He stuttered his thanks awkwardly as she grinned at him, her short legs dangling from her seat on his bed. Upon examining the girl, he noted, “Well, you look pretty nice, too. For a girl, anyway.”
“Yes, well, Nana made me take a bath too. I'm supposed to stay all clean and neat because we're having a big banquet tonight, but it's just so hard!” she lamented as Jonathan sat in the chair and began to eat his dinner. “And it's not like a bath makes me look so much better, anyway,” she added mournfully, “A bath can't make my hair stop being all frizzy and messy, and a bath can't make me any less skinny. Nana says that I'll grow out of it someday, but I'm not so sure she's right. Anyway, it's not like it bothers me that much... I lost my front teeth! Wanna see?” the girl asked randomly. Then, she grinned wide, showing Jonathan the space where her front teeth had been. He was caught off guard by her quick change of subject and, having nothing to say, merely ooohed and continued eating. She continued cheerfully, “I would show you the teeth, but Nana took them away. She didn't like it when I carried them around with me, because she said it was gross.” She pouted at this fact, crossing her arms over her chest in frustration. After a moment of silence to mourn the lack of teeth in her pockets, she asked, “So, Jonathan, where do you live?”
Surprised that she was letting him get a word in at all, Jon replied, “I live at the home of Sir Steven. I work in his stables, but today-”
“You work in his stables?” the girl asked, interrupting him, suddenly alert and interested, “Does that mean that you get to work with his horses? All the time?” After his confirmation of this fact, she continued enthusiastically, “Oh, how splendid it must be! Ah, to spend all day with those beautiful, elegant animals! It must be heavenly.” Now, Jonathan did not find it very heavenly or splendid to shovel horse dung all day. He kept such thoughts to himself, however, for he enjoyed hearing her speak of such an ideal situation. She continued blissfully, “I do so wish I could spend the whole day with horses. I love them so! But Nana won't let me ride one. She says I'm too short, but I think she's wrong. I'm plenty tall enough! Don't you think so?”
Jonathan did not know how to respond to this, for he, in fact, did not think that Lydia was in any way tall enough to be riding horses, but he did not know how to tell the girl that without upsetting her dreadfully. Hesitantly, he attempted to reply calmly, “Well, you know, Lydia-”
“You think she's right!” she interrupted him in anger, leaping off the bed to stand in front of him, “You don't think I'm big enough to ride a horse! Well you know what? I am big enough. I've grown three inches this year! And I've lost four teeth!” she fumed, her pain at his opinion evident on her face. She looked as though she was about to cry, and Jonathan instantly tried to soothe the unhappy girl.
“Oh, Lydia, it's not that I don't think you're not old enough or smart enough. It's just that you're so small, and I'm afraid that horses are so big that you'd get hurt,” he said anxiously.
“Well, it's not like that's my fault!” Lydia responded miserably, her eyes filling with tears. “It's not like I don't try to be taller, but I can't make myself grow faster! I mean, how old do you think I look?” she asked him, suddenly, eerily calm. Jonathan did not know how he could answer her question without upsetting her, but he didn't have to, because she continued before he could get a word in at all, “Most people think I'm only eight or nine years old, on account of my short stature, but I'm not. I turned eleven this past summer. Eleven!” her voice grew louder, and she was no longer so calm. In fact, she was growing rather upset again as she continued, “I'm already eleven years old, and everybody still treats me like I'm a baby! It's not fair!!”
“I don't understand,” Jonathan confessed as she stood there on the verge of tears, for he was too flustered himself to find a way to calm her. “How come you're so small? I mean, does anybody know?” Suddenly, he had a dreadful thought, and he had to ask, “Was it, I mean, did you have the plague?
“Oh, no, not the plague,” she sniffed as she wiped her eyes with a sleeve. “No, nothing like that.” Her answer brought him relief, but it did not seem to calm her much.
“Well, then why? Does it run in your family or something?” he asked impertinently.
She seemed to become almost angry at his words, but before he could take them back, she replied sourly, “Some people think so.” Upon seeing that Jon did not understand what she meant by this, she tried to explain by saying, “I grew up on the Western Islands.” These words only brought more confusion to Jon, and Lydia was growing quite frustrated with his ignorance. “Don't you know what they say about little people who're born there? They say we've got dragon's blood!” she very nearly shouted at him through the tears running afresh down her cheeks.
Jonathan was shocked at her words but still did not fully understand what she meant by her reference to the place of her birth. Even so, he did understand the insult of which she spoke; anyone from Bellen understood that. Dragons were considered to be a most primitive and savage race, and deformities or abnormalities were often blamed upon having the blood of these despised creatures. Thus, to have dragon's blood was a shameful thing, and Lydia's response to this insult was perfectly understandable. Jonathan felt great compassion for the little girl and felt compelled to comfort her. So, he pulled the child into his arms as she began to sob. “Oh, Lydia, that couldn't possibly be true,” he gently assured her, “No one who is so sweet and nice and bright as you could have dragon's blood in their veins.”
He was pleased to see his efforts rewarded when she lifted her face to look up at him hopefully and asked, “Do you really think so?”
“Of course I do!” he reassured her kindly, “I really, really do. I wouldn't lie to you. And I'll tell you what,” he added, “You may be a bit too small for horseback riding now, but if it's alright with your Nana, when you've lost all of your teeth, I'll teach you to ride myself!”
“Really, truly?” she asked him, and upon seeing him grin and nod, she hugged him tightly, burying her face in his shirt as she repeatedly thanked him. Suddenly, she pulled back to look at him, her face streaked with happy tears, and said, “Thank you so much, Jon. You're the best friend I've ever had!”
Jonathan was touched by her sincere words and her sweet, trusting embrace. He wondered how little kindness she must have met with in her life to make her feel so grateful for his friendship. He brushed the tears off her face with a hand as he replied tenderly, “Oh Lydia, you're my best friend, too”
Her face was filled with wonder, and she asked him in an awed voice, “Oh, really? Oh, Jonathan, do you really mean it?”
He was again moved by how much his friendship seemed to mean to the girl. It made him think that she really must not have found any real friends in all her life, and he was determined to show her that there were people in the world who would value her friendship, starting with him. He smiled at her and replied to her uncertainty, “Of course I mean it. I'm all alone here, and you're the only person who's taken the time to speak to me. So, yes, Lydia, you're the best friend I think I've ever had.”
She hugged him tightly again, as he gently patted her back. “Oh, Jonathan!” she said as she embraced him, “We'll be the best of friends! Best friends forever!” Suddenly, she pulled back from his arms to look him in the eye, and, very seriously and slightly hesitantly, she told him, “You know, Jonathan, I've never really had a best friend before. Have you?”
After reflecting on that for a moment, he had to reply, “You know, I don't believe I ever have, either!” He smiled at the way his words lit up her face, making her look absolutely adorable, the light of sunset glinting off the happy tears that streaked her cheeks.
Suddenly, upon glancing toward the little window, the girl nearly leaped out of his arms, appearing very flustered and upset, as she said, “Oh, my! It's so late! Oh, Nana won't be happy, and the princess will be so cross! I'm sorry,” she addressed him apologetically, “But I've got to go. They'll want my help, what with the banquet tonight, there's bound to be lots to do. They'll be wondering what's taken me so long. I'd really better go. Nana will be worried, not that she ever isn't worried.” He stood as she began to bustle around him to collect the dishes from his meal.
“Well, thank you for the meal and for keeping me company,” he said gratefully as he held the door of the chamber open for Lydia, who was holding the tray of empty dishes. “It was very nice.”
“You're very welcome,” she blushed, “I'll be back in a while to get you for the banquet. It shouldn't be long now.” Then, she looked him in the eye to ask hopefully, “And you're really going to be my best friend? Really?”
He assured her again of his sincerity, as he shooed her out of the room, reminding her of all the people waiting for her help with banquet preparations. As he closed the door behind her, he had already begun to miss the little girl's company. He was nearly heartbroken at the thought that she was so lonely and unsure of his friendship. He walked back to the small table and sat in the chair, thoughtful and impatient for the banquet to begin.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Chapter IV
Iris sat pensively by her maid's bedside, now dressed in a simple blue day gown, which perfectly complimented her sapphire eyes. An elderly nurse was knitting quietly in the corner, her gray hair bound tightly in a bun at the nape of her neck. Betsy lay in her bed, still unconscious, with bandages wrapped around her head. Iris was racked with guilt that Betsy should suffer so, all because someone was opposed to her mistress. It wasn't fair! The world never was fair, though, and that was why Iris had to find the one who had hired the assassins. The assassins had been thrown into the dungeons until such time as they could be tried and executed. It was a given thing that they would die for their crime. She was thinking burning them at the stake would be more frightening to other aspiring attackers than merely beheading them. This morbid thought brought her satisfaction, but the thought of another attack upon her was frightening, to say the least.
"Excuse me, ma'am," Iris addressed the nurse, hoping to take her mind off her recent thoughts, "Do you expect my maid to be awake in time for my banquet?"
The woman looked up from her knitting, obviously annoyed with the impatient princess. "I've already told you, your Highness," she replied tiredly, "It's hard to say when she'll wake up, but even if she did wake up in time, I'm afraid she would have to stay in bed for a few days." The nurse turned back to her knitting, and Iris went back to being pensive.
When they had returned to Bellenar Palace that morning, Iris had not left Betsy's side. They had quickly taken her to her bedchamber and sent for the physician, who came presently. The physician had bandaged up her head carefully and had said that she would be confined to her bed for some time. Iris had heard none of this, however. The shock and fear clouded her mind, so that she could do naught but sit by her friend. She knew that at some time between then and now she had been up to her chamber to change from her parade gown to an everyday gown, at which time the cut on her face must have been attended to, but she could not recall it. It had taken Iris some time to regain mastery over her emotions. Now she sat quietly by her maid and friend, watching and worrying.
Aside from the bandages on her head, Betsy almost looked peaceful, lying there in bed, without a care in the world. Iris supposed that their horse-riding excursion would have to wait even longer now. She wished she could do something for her dear friend, but the nurse had said that all they could do was wait. So, Iris set to waiting with a vengeance, willing her friend to heal. That is, until Dora, another of her maids, came to tell her that her presence was requested at her father's court. In truth, Iris had forgotten all about her duties as princess, for concern for Besty. After the distressing events of the morning, she had not energy to do more than hover around the unconscious girl. She had even forgotten that it was her birthday, for that matter. All her thoughts were concentrated upon Betsy, lying there, motionless. She was loath to leave Betsy's side, but duty was calling . She sighed, for the luxury of contemplating those terrible events was not one she was going to have any more time for today.
Iris stood and summoned Jane, another of her maids. She charged the young woman to sit by Betsy's bedside and to alert her if there should be any change in the invalid's condition. With that, she went off, accompanied by her maids and a small detachment of guards, to fulfill her obligations as princess.
Her first task was to meet with the nobles in the throne room, who were not of a high enough rank to be invited to the banquet, but still were obligated to show their loyalty to her this day. She was in no way dressed to hold an audience, but there was no time to spare for a wardrobe change.
When Iris and her attendants reached the throne room, King Eric II,who was surrounded by advisers and guards, greeted his daughter warmly and bid them to settle themselves to his right. Iris took her mother's throne, whose position she had filled since the late queen's tragic death. Iris never once sat in that place without thinking of the one who had sat there before her. When she was serving in her mother's stead, the princess felt closer to her. Her mother had been her greatest role-model, and Iris missed having the old queen there to comfort and guide her.
Iris pulled herself out of her latest reverie and turned to the first loyal subject who had come to see her and her father. She was pleased to find it was Lady Vucari, one of the more amiable ladies of the court. The lady had been invited to the banquet, which pleased Iris exceedingly, for she always had some sweet story to tell about her little children. Iris had known her for most of her life and had been truly pleased when the young woman had married. The princess had always known that a good husband would give this woman the greatest joy, and she had been right. Sir Vucari was the woman's match in every way, and now that she was a mother, Iris could see that she had everything she had ever wanted.
Lady Vucari smiled as she curtsied to her king and princess. Iris, in turn, smiled and inclined her head toward the lady. The king grinned and said in a jovial voice, "My dear, it is good to see you!" Iris sighed to herself, knowing that her father would, without a doubt, say the exact wrong thing. He continued, completely ignorant of his daughter's lack of confidence in his discretion, "I should hope to see you at the banquet this evening. We are having five full courses!"
Lady Vucari tried to keep her composure as she responded to her king with utmost civility, "I'm afraid, your Highness, that I will not be able to attend the banquet. Please forgive me, for my youngest bumped his head this morning, and I must stay with him. He needs his mother." Iris was instantly concerned, but she knew it was not her place to speak. Her father was presiding; it would be horribly disrespectful to him if she were to take the lead of the audience. Iris would never ask this woman to leave her child, even for an evening, but she knew her father's advisers would look upon her absence as an insult to their princess, which in turn would be an insult to them. She hoped that Sir Vucari would not have to suffer at their hands on account of his wife's maternal tenancies. She also hoped that her father would have the sense enough to ask how the boy was doing, but she knew better than to count on it.
"My dear, that is too bad! Trust that you shall be sorely missed," the king exclaimed dejectedly, "But cannot his nursemaid stay with him? Surely he shall be well looked after with her there."
The lady responded, quite flustered, "Forgive me, my liege, but that is impossible. I could not have a pleasant evening out while knowing of my son's being ill in bed, and I know I could not increase your enjoyment by attending while in such a melancholy state. I would not want to put a damper on the festivities. It would be better if I stayed with him." The king's advisers whispered among themselves, no doubt offended by this lady's impertinence. Lord Drusmab crept up to his king's throne and whispered into his Majesty's ear.
King Eric frowned at the words whispered and spoke calmly, his voice rising in volume with each accusation, "Do you mean to say that you, dear Lady Vucari, are outright refusing an invitation from your princess? An invitation from the heir to the Belleneze throne? Refusing to dine with her on this day of her birth?" His words were harsh, and his face was like stone. Iris wished she could speak up on behalf of this woman, whose only crime was loving her children, but it would not be right of her to embarrass her father in that way.
In fear, Lady Vucari hesitantly spoke, "I beg your forgiveness, Majesty, for I meant no affront to the princess. I meant no -"
"Ah, but you have insulted her! Slighted her Highness, the Princess Iris Abigail!" the Lord Drusmab cut her off in fury, "Your offense is great, and you shall suffer accordingly!"
Iris could withstand it no longer. Lord Drusmab had gone too far. She would not speak out against her father's ruling, but this man's was another matter. She could not let them punish this woman who had done nothing wrong! Outraged, she interjected, "My lord, hold your tongue! It is not your place to reprimand anyone, save your own servants!" More calmly, she continued, "My lady, trust that I take no offense at your declining our invitation. I do hope that young Jacob is alright?" she asked, referring to the lady's son.
The lady smiled her gratitude to her benevolent princess, her expression one of relief, and replied, "Oh, the doctor says he'll be alright, but I won't be at ease until I can be certain that he is no longer in any danger."
Iris smiled at this, and continued to converse with Lady Vucari for a short time, before giving audience to the next subject. The audiences were all much the same after that: as she had expected, many lesser nobles come to bring well-wishes; a few people bringing her gifts to show their gratitude, respect, or merely out of a sense of obligation. Lord Drusmab remained uncharacteristically silent, apprehensive of what his princess would do to him, should he speak out again.
After an hour spent in this fashion by her father's side, the princess was summoned by Dora to come and dress for the feast. She hastened along with her maids toward her tower chambers, for she had not realized how late it had grown. It would not do for her to be late for her own banquet!
As the women hurried along through corridors to the princess' personal tower, it occurred to the princess that she did not know what had become of the fellow who had come to her rescue at the parade. She turned to Dora, as they walked, and inquired, "Dora, what was done for the young man who showed such courage at the parade? I'm afraid I was rather too preoccupied with Betsy to notice much else, and I just cannot remember," she confessed sheepishly.
Dora smiled pleasantly, and said, "Oh, Jonathan of Cavelnar? Your Highness, you sent Lydia off to find him and give him a room to rest in before the banquet." Dora was a tall young lady who looked to be not much older than her princess. She had wavy, jet black hair that just now hung to her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep brown. She continued before Iris could fully comprehend what she had just said, "Is he not absolutely dreamy? Oh, and the way he ran up to save you was so brave!" Dora feigned a swoon at the thought of the daring young man. Iris just rolled her eyes at her dramatic friend.
"Wait, I said that he was to attend the banquet?" Iris asked, after a moment of thought on her maid's words. She could not recall any such thing.
"Oh, yes! He is to come as the guest of honor!" her maid exclaimed, "After all, he saved your life, and no doubt must be duly rewarded for it! He is a hero! My dear princess, you did not think that he had been sent away, did you?" Dora asked jovially.
Iris shrugged at that, as they began their accent of the tower's spiral staircase. She had not thought that he would stay, but then again, she not thought of much of anything since returning to Bellenar Palace. She had hoped that she wouldn't have to see the peasant again, but Dora was rarely wrong about things that had happened. She was often wrong about other peoples' emotions, but that was different story entirely. So, it seemed that her evening would at least be more interesting now, though it would not be any more pleasant.
The princess and her maids reached her chambers at last, to find that the rain had stopped, and the light of sunset shone through the western windows. As her entourage filed into the chamber, Iris sank down onto a cushioned seat, overwhelmed by all that must be done that day before the banquet. There was no use lamenting the fact that she must prepare everything for the lavish party; that much she knew. She began her preparations by sending for Lydia. The young girl arrived in a filthy state. Iris reprimanded her, "Lydia, why, your dress is terribly soiled, and your hair is flying everywhere! How could you get so messy, and today of all days?"
Little Lydia smiled sweetly and replied honestly, "I don't really know, your Highness... I did try to stay clean this morning. I'm not sure where all this dirt comes from, but it always finds me!" She spoke with indignation. "And my hair-ribbon came loose, and I lost it," she confessed quietly, an afterthought.
The princess smiled to herself at the child's words. Lydia really was a good-hearted girl, but she had a terrible time trying to stay out of trouble. She had just begun her service under the princess that summer, when Iris found her living as a servant at Ibarcana, her summer home on the Western Islands, and took a liking to her. She reminded Iris of herself more and more often. If Iris had not been so preoccupied with all her obligations and the trauma from that morning, she would have been reminded of the freedom she had at that age. She wasn't that age anymore, though; she was eighteen today, and there was much to do. Today was too important a day for Iris to allow for slacking, but she couldn't bring herself to be angry with this little girl. Lydia never meant any harm; she just wanted to please Iris. "It's alright," the princess said with a sigh. It would serve no purpose to lecture the girl on keeping tidy; there was no time for that today. Instead, she inquired of the little maid as to what had been done for the peasant boy, Jonathan; at least, that's what she thought Dora had said his name was.
Lydia obligingly replied, "Oh, I told the housekeeping-women to prepare the extra maid's chamber on the third floor for him, like you asked. Then, I led him there and told him to get all cleaned up. He was almost as messy as me!" the girl exclaimed, her green eyes wide.
Iris had been preparing to dress for the banquet while the child spoke, but she halted abruptly at the girl's innocent words. "Wait, do you mean to tell me that you took him to the extra chamber in my tower?" she asked, her voice tense and filled with sudden agitation.
The expression on Lydia's face mirrored the alarm in her princess' tone, and the young servant quickly attempted to remedy whatever it was that she had done to cause her mistress' distress. She responded, hurriedly and uncertainly, "I'm sorry, that was wrong, wasn't it? I didn't know you meant another third-floor chamber. I'm so sorry; I didn't know! Please don't be angry with me," the child pleaded pitifully.
Iris sank to her bed as the girl finished speaking. To think that he was only a few floors below her, resting or perhaps leaning out the window and marveling at the height, it was sickening to her. That he should be given such praise, such honor, it was unthinkable! What had he done, but what any loyal subject would have done in his place, had they not been so overcome by shock? His actions were good and noteworthy, granted, but that was all. How could anyone think they were so amazingly great and noble, enough to earn him a bed in the royal palace, in the princess' own tower? What he had done was not so necessary, either! Were not the guards right on his heels when he stopped her attackers? If one of them had saved her, he would not have claimed the seat of guest of honor at the banquet for her birthday. She would have been just fine without him! Why had he had to act at all?
Dora turned to her princess and inquired if she was feeling quite well, if she ought to bring her water or food. Iris turned to her handmaiden, brought out of her reverie by the girl's words. In truth, she had forgotten that she was not alone, too lost in her angry thoughts. Her maid's expression clearly expressed her heartfelt concern and worry for her lady's health. Dora must think she was going into shock.
She must compose herself! It was unacceptable for her to allow her discomfort and agitation to be seen by those around her. She was the heir to the throne, the hope of her people; it was her duty to present a confident, cool, collected image. Her people needed this from her; it would be insufferably selfish of her to give them anything less. She could not let the trauma that she had suffered that morning or even worry for her injured friend keep her from focusing on the tasks at hand.
Collecting her thoughts and pushing them all to the back of her mind, she rose, much to the surprise of her maids. She turned to the little servant girl, who was in quite a state of agitation over her princess' reaction to her words a moment ago. "Well, has the young man had anything to eat?" she asked the child.
Lydia answered hopefully, "No, why, I didn't even think of that! Of course, he must be hungry. It was so forgetful of me!" The child would have continued, but Iris held up a hand, silencing her. The girl would talk forever, if she could.
"Go ahead, then, and take him some food," the princess said with a smile in her voice. "But first, go and have your Nana clean you up. You must look your best for the banquet tonight!" she added, knowing that it was pointless, since, if the girl didn't forget to tidy up, she would find some way of getting untidy again before the banquet anyway.
The sweet girl bobbed a quick curtsy and hurried out of sight, and Iris turned to her maids, who were staring at her in confusion. "Well, don't just stand there," she said to them, "We've much to do before tonight, and the time is quickly running out! Here, help me out of my day gown." Still internally reprimanding herself, Iris set herself to the task at hand. After all, there was not much time left before the banquet!
"Excuse me, ma'am," Iris addressed the nurse, hoping to take her mind off her recent thoughts, "Do you expect my maid to be awake in time for my banquet?"
The woman looked up from her knitting, obviously annoyed with the impatient princess. "I've already told you, your Highness," she replied tiredly, "It's hard to say when she'll wake up, but even if she did wake up in time, I'm afraid she would have to stay in bed for a few days." The nurse turned back to her knitting, and Iris went back to being pensive.
When they had returned to Bellenar Palace that morning, Iris had not left Betsy's side. They had quickly taken her to her bedchamber and sent for the physician, who came presently. The physician had bandaged up her head carefully and had said that she would be confined to her bed for some time. Iris had heard none of this, however. The shock and fear clouded her mind, so that she could do naught but sit by her friend. She knew that at some time between then and now she had been up to her chamber to change from her parade gown to an everyday gown, at which time the cut on her face must have been attended to, but she could not recall it. It had taken Iris some time to regain mastery over her emotions. Now she sat quietly by her maid and friend, watching and worrying.
Aside from the bandages on her head, Betsy almost looked peaceful, lying there in bed, without a care in the world. Iris supposed that their horse-riding excursion would have to wait even longer now. She wished she could do something for her dear friend, but the nurse had said that all they could do was wait. So, Iris set to waiting with a vengeance, willing her friend to heal. That is, until Dora, another of her maids, came to tell her that her presence was requested at her father's court. In truth, Iris had forgotten all about her duties as princess, for concern for Besty. After the distressing events of the morning, she had not energy to do more than hover around the unconscious girl. She had even forgotten that it was her birthday, for that matter. All her thoughts were concentrated upon Betsy, lying there, motionless. She was loath to leave Betsy's side, but duty was calling . She sighed, for the luxury of contemplating those terrible events was not one she was going to have any more time for today.
Iris stood and summoned Jane, another of her maids. She charged the young woman to sit by Betsy's bedside and to alert her if there should be any change in the invalid's condition. With that, she went off, accompanied by her maids and a small detachment of guards, to fulfill her obligations as princess.
Her first task was to meet with the nobles in the throne room, who were not of a high enough rank to be invited to the banquet, but still were obligated to show their loyalty to her this day. She was in no way dressed to hold an audience, but there was no time to spare for a wardrobe change.
When Iris and her attendants reached the throne room, King Eric II,who was surrounded by advisers and guards, greeted his daughter warmly and bid them to settle themselves to his right. Iris took her mother's throne, whose position she had filled since the late queen's tragic death. Iris never once sat in that place without thinking of the one who had sat there before her. When she was serving in her mother's stead, the princess felt closer to her. Her mother had been her greatest role-model, and Iris missed having the old queen there to comfort and guide her.
Iris pulled herself out of her latest reverie and turned to the first loyal subject who had come to see her and her father. She was pleased to find it was Lady Vucari, one of the more amiable ladies of the court. The lady had been invited to the banquet, which pleased Iris exceedingly, for she always had some sweet story to tell about her little children. Iris had known her for most of her life and had been truly pleased when the young woman had married. The princess had always known that a good husband would give this woman the greatest joy, and she had been right. Sir Vucari was the woman's match in every way, and now that she was a mother, Iris could see that she had everything she had ever wanted.
Lady Vucari smiled as she curtsied to her king and princess. Iris, in turn, smiled and inclined her head toward the lady. The king grinned and said in a jovial voice, "My dear, it is good to see you!" Iris sighed to herself, knowing that her father would, without a doubt, say the exact wrong thing. He continued, completely ignorant of his daughter's lack of confidence in his discretion, "I should hope to see you at the banquet this evening. We are having five full courses!"
Lady Vucari tried to keep her composure as she responded to her king with utmost civility, "I'm afraid, your Highness, that I will not be able to attend the banquet. Please forgive me, for my youngest bumped his head this morning, and I must stay with him. He needs his mother." Iris was instantly concerned, but she knew it was not her place to speak. Her father was presiding; it would be horribly disrespectful to him if she were to take the lead of the audience. Iris would never ask this woman to leave her child, even for an evening, but she knew her father's advisers would look upon her absence as an insult to their princess, which in turn would be an insult to them. She hoped that Sir Vucari would not have to suffer at their hands on account of his wife's maternal tenancies. She also hoped that her father would have the sense enough to ask how the boy was doing, but she knew better than to count on it.
"My dear, that is too bad! Trust that you shall be sorely missed," the king exclaimed dejectedly, "But cannot his nursemaid stay with him? Surely he shall be well looked after with her there."
The lady responded, quite flustered, "Forgive me, my liege, but that is impossible. I could not have a pleasant evening out while knowing of my son's being ill in bed, and I know I could not increase your enjoyment by attending while in such a melancholy state. I would not want to put a damper on the festivities. It would be better if I stayed with him." The king's advisers whispered among themselves, no doubt offended by this lady's impertinence. Lord Drusmab crept up to his king's throne and whispered into his Majesty's ear.
King Eric frowned at the words whispered and spoke calmly, his voice rising in volume with each accusation, "Do you mean to say that you, dear Lady Vucari, are outright refusing an invitation from your princess? An invitation from the heir to the Belleneze throne? Refusing to dine with her on this day of her birth?" His words were harsh, and his face was like stone. Iris wished she could speak up on behalf of this woman, whose only crime was loving her children, but it would not be right of her to embarrass her father in that way.
In fear, Lady Vucari hesitantly spoke, "I beg your forgiveness, Majesty, for I meant no affront to the princess. I meant no -"
"Ah, but you have insulted her! Slighted her Highness, the Princess Iris Abigail!" the Lord Drusmab cut her off in fury, "Your offense is great, and you shall suffer accordingly!"
Iris could withstand it no longer. Lord Drusmab had gone too far. She would not speak out against her father's ruling, but this man's was another matter. She could not let them punish this woman who had done nothing wrong! Outraged, she interjected, "My lord, hold your tongue! It is not your place to reprimand anyone, save your own servants!" More calmly, she continued, "My lady, trust that I take no offense at your declining our invitation. I do hope that young Jacob is alright?" she asked, referring to the lady's son.
The lady smiled her gratitude to her benevolent princess, her expression one of relief, and replied, "Oh, the doctor says he'll be alright, but I won't be at ease until I can be certain that he is no longer in any danger."
Iris smiled at this, and continued to converse with Lady Vucari for a short time, before giving audience to the next subject. The audiences were all much the same after that: as she had expected, many lesser nobles come to bring well-wishes; a few people bringing her gifts to show their gratitude, respect, or merely out of a sense of obligation. Lord Drusmab remained uncharacteristically silent, apprehensive of what his princess would do to him, should he speak out again.
After an hour spent in this fashion by her father's side, the princess was summoned by Dora to come and dress for the feast. She hastened along with her maids toward her tower chambers, for she had not realized how late it had grown. It would not do for her to be late for her own banquet!
As the women hurried along through corridors to the princess' personal tower, it occurred to the princess that she did not know what had become of the fellow who had come to her rescue at the parade. She turned to Dora, as they walked, and inquired, "Dora, what was done for the young man who showed such courage at the parade? I'm afraid I was rather too preoccupied with Betsy to notice much else, and I just cannot remember," she confessed sheepishly.
Dora smiled pleasantly, and said, "Oh, Jonathan of Cavelnar? Your Highness, you sent Lydia off to find him and give him a room to rest in before the banquet." Dora was a tall young lady who looked to be not much older than her princess. She had wavy, jet black hair that just now hung to her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep brown. She continued before Iris could fully comprehend what she had just said, "Is he not absolutely dreamy? Oh, and the way he ran up to save you was so brave!" Dora feigned a swoon at the thought of the daring young man. Iris just rolled her eyes at her dramatic friend.
"Wait, I said that he was to attend the banquet?" Iris asked, after a moment of thought on her maid's words. She could not recall any such thing.
"Oh, yes! He is to come as the guest of honor!" her maid exclaimed, "After all, he saved your life, and no doubt must be duly rewarded for it! He is a hero! My dear princess, you did not think that he had been sent away, did you?" Dora asked jovially.
Iris shrugged at that, as they began their accent of the tower's spiral staircase. She had not thought that he would stay, but then again, she not thought of much of anything since returning to Bellenar Palace. She had hoped that she wouldn't have to see the peasant again, but Dora was rarely wrong about things that had happened. She was often wrong about other peoples' emotions, but that was different story entirely. So, it seemed that her evening would at least be more interesting now, though it would not be any more pleasant.
The princess and her maids reached her chambers at last, to find that the rain had stopped, and the light of sunset shone through the western windows. As her entourage filed into the chamber, Iris sank down onto a cushioned seat, overwhelmed by all that must be done that day before the banquet. There was no use lamenting the fact that she must prepare everything for the lavish party; that much she knew. She began her preparations by sending for Lydia. The young girl arrived in a filthy state. Iris reprimanded her, "Lydia, why, your dress is terribly soiled, and your hair is flying everywhere! How could you get so messy, and today of all days?"
Little Lydia smiled sweetly and replied honestly, "I don't really know, your Highness... I did try to stay clean this morning. I'm not sure where all this dirt comes from, but it always finds me!" She spoke with indignation. "And my hair-ribbon came loose, and I lost it," she confessed quietly, an afterthought.
The princess smiled to herself at the child's words. Lydia really was a good-hearted girl, but she had a terrible time trying to stay out of trouble. She had just begun her service under the princess that summer, when Iris found her living as a servant at Ibarcana, her summer home on the Western Islands, and took a liking to her. She reminded Iris of herself more and more often. If Iris had not been so preoccupied with all her obligations and the trauma from that morning, she would have been reminded of the freedom she had at that age. She wasn't that age anymore, though; she was eighteen today, and there was much to do. Today was too important a day for Iris to allow for slacking, but she couldn't bring herself to be angry with this little girl. Lydia never meant any harm; she just wanted to please Iris. "It's alright," the princess said with a sigh. It would serve no purpose to lecture the girl on keeping tidy; there was no time for that today. Instead, she inquired of the little maid as to what had been done for the peasant boy, Jonathan; at least, that's what she thought Dora had said his name was.
Lydia obligingly replied, "Oh, I told the housekeeping-women to prepare the extra maid's chamber on the third floor for him, like you asked. Then, I led him there and told him to get all cleaned up. He was almost as messy as me!" the girl exclaimed, her green eyes wide.
Iris had been preparing to dress for the banquet while the child spoke, but she halted abruptly at the girl's innocent words. "Wait, do you mean to tell me that you took him to the extra chamber in my tower?" she asked, her voice tense and filled with sudden agitation.
The expression on Lydia's face mirrored the alarm in her princess' tone, and the young servant quickly attempted to remedy whatever it was that she had done to cause her mistress' distress. She responded, hurriedly and uncertainly, "I'm sorry, that was wrong, wasn't it? I didn't know you meant another third-floor chamber. I'm so sorry; I didn't know! Please don't be angry with me," the child pleaded pitifully.
Iris sank to her bed as the girl finished speaking. To think that he was only a few floors below her, resting or perhaps leaning out the window and marveling at the height, it was sickening to her. That he should be given such praise, such honor, it was unthinkable! What had he done, but what any loyal subject would have done in his place, had they not been so overcome by shock? His actions were good and noteworthy, granted, but that was all. How could anyone think they were so amazingly great and noble, enough to earn him a bed in the royal palace, in the princess' own tower? What he had done was not so necessary, either! Were not the guards right on his heels when he stopped her attackers? If one of them had saved her, he would not have claimed the seat of guest of honor at the banquet for her birthday. She would have been just fine without him! Why had he had to act at all?
Dora turned to her princess and inquired if she was feeling quite well, if she ought to bring her water or food. Iris turned to her handmaiden, brought out of her reverie by the girl's words. In truth, she had forgotten that she was not alone, too lost in her angry thoughts. Her maid's expression clearly expressed her heartfelt concern and worry for her lady's health. Dora must think she was going into shock.
She must compose herself! It was unacceptable for her to allow her discomfort and agitation to be seen by those around her. She was the heir to the throne, the hope of her people; it was her duty to present a confident, cool, collected image. Her people needed this from her; it would be insufferably selfish of her to give them anything less. She could not let the trauma that she had suffered that morning or even worry for her injured friend keep her from focusing on the tasks at hand.
Collecting her thoughts and pushing them all to the back of her mind, she rose, much to the surprise of her maids. She turned to the little servant girl, who was in quite a state of agitation over her princess' reaction to her words a moment ago. "Well, has the young man had anything to eat?" she asked the child.
Lydia answered hopefully, "No, why, I didn't even think of that! Of course, he must be hungry. It was so forgetful of me!" The child would have continued, but Iris held up a hand, silencing her. The girl would talk forever, if she could.
"Go ahead, then, and take him some food," the princess said with a smile in her voice. "But first, go and have your Nana clean you up. You must look your best for the banquet tonight!" she added, knowing that it was pointless, since, if the girl didn't forget to tidy up, she would find some way of getting untidy again before the banquet anyway.
The sweet girl bobbed a quick curtsy and hurried out of sight, and Iris turned to her maids, who were staring at her in confusion. "Well, don't just stand there," she said to them, "We've much to do before tonight, and the time is quickly running out! Here, help me out of my day gown." Still internally reprimanding herself, Iris set herself to the task at hand. After all, there was not much time left before the banquet!
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Chapter III
High in a tower of the Royal Palace of Bellen, Jonathan lay on a soft feather-bed, pondering all that had transpired during the course of that day. When he first saw that the guards were attacking the princess, he was shocked! When he saw one of them strike her, he realized that his duty, like that of any citizen of Bellen, was to protect the heir to the throne at all costs. He fought his way through the crowds and ran to the princess. The traitorous guards didn't notice him, as they were focused on their prey. He sneaked up behind them and bashed their heads together, knocking them both out.
Jonathan was not prepared for the sight before him. He then faced the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He had indeed heard of the princess' beauty, and how it was said to surpass that of any woman who had ever lived, but he had never really believed it. After all, every princess, no matter how plain and homely, is always said to be beautiful. It wasn't deception with her, though; she truly lived up to her reputation. Even with blood and dirt on her face, clutching her knife, her hair coming our of its bun, and distrust written in her eyes, she was truly radiant. He had never seen anyone like this woman, this woman who would one day rule all of Bellen.
Princess Iris was eying him sceptically, when he heard the heavy footsteps of guards coming up behind him. It was then that it struck him,
--Who am I to approach Her Majesty, Princess Iris Abigail, heir to the throne of Bellen?--
He dropped to his knees in fear. After all, he could easily be banished or beheaded, for such a crime as to *stand* before a member of the royal family. He knew he must say something, but what to say? He said the only thing he could think of.
"Happy Birthday, your Highness," he said breathlessly, knowing that things really couldn't get much worse. One of the guards asked him what his name was, and he told the man, though he didn't understand why anyone would want to know, if he was going to be banished or killed anyway. He glanced up to see that the king had turned around and come to where they were, followed closely by his advisers and attendants, and was speaking to one of the guards, while the princess kneeled beside one of her maids. The king then turned to consult with one of his advisers. After a moment, he turned to Jonathan, brought him to his feet, and turned to the crowds.
"This young man, Jonathan of Cavelnar, has saved the life of my daughter, the princess!" the king announced, "He is to be honored by all!" As the people began to chant his name, the guards lifted him on their shoulders. He watched as the princess refused to ride in her litter and insisted that her maid, who was unconscious, be carried in it, while she rode with her father. When the royal party was sufficiently ready, they all headed off toward the palace.
As the guards carried him with the party to the palace, Jonathan allowed his mind to wander. He hoped that he would not be too sorely missed at Sir Steven's stables, but thoughts of such mundane things soon gave way to grander contemplations. He wondered what would happen to him once they reached the palace. He was now certain that he was not to be banished, as the king had allayed all his fears with his speech. What did they want with him, then? It was a conundrum to him.
As they rounded a curve in the road, Jonathan was stunned by the sight before him. He had indeed heard of how the the great Bellenar Palace was built into the side of Mt. Bellenar, but he was unprepared for the majesty of the sight of such an architectural masterpiece. The grand palace looked as though it could have really been part of the mountain. Its towers climbed high into the sky, and the deep, wide mote circled the whole mountain. The only way into or out of the palace grounds was through the great drawbridge at the very front of the surrounding walls, which had been opened to grant them entrance. It was a sight to behold.
When they entered the palace grounds, the guards put him down, and the drawbridge was shut. He watched as the king and the princess dismounted and went with their attendants into the palace proper, leaving him confused and feeling very alone. People were bustling here and there, and no one seemed to know that he existed. What was he supposed to do, anyway? He sat in the courtyard and waited.
After a time, Jonathan noticed a young girl, who looked to be about eight years old, watching him curiously. She was a short, skinny girl with long, frizzy red hair, and big, brown, puppy-dog eyes. He watched her out of the corner of his eye for a few moments. She seemed to be contemplating whether or not to approach him. He gave her a small wave, hoping to reassure her. Upon seeing this, she came up to him and timidly asked, with a heavy lisp, "Are you Jonathan, the one who saved the princess?"
"I guess that's me," he answered uncertainly.
"Really? You beat those big, tough guards?" she asked with awe.
"Oh yes," he replied, amused by the child, "I just walked up to them and bashed their heads together!"
"Wow! Well, I'm Lydia. The princess sent me," she said, "You're to come with me. I'll show you where you can rest," she grinned, revealing that she had lost her two front teeth.
"All right, lead the way," he replied as he got up and followed Lydia into the palace. She led him through many hallways and up a spiral staircase, chattering the whole way. She finally paused a a door. She opened it and ushered him into the room. It seemed to be a small bedchamber. Lying on the bed to his right was a fine new set of clothes for him. There was a fireplace on the left wall, a small table and chair straight ahead beneath a small window, which faced to the west, and a bathtub in the center of the room, already filled with hot water.
"You should get all cleaned up for the big birthday banquet tonight. You're a mess! I'll be back later to check on you," she said with a wink. With that, she left him alone again.
Now here he was, a guest in the royal palace! It seemed too good to be true. Just this morning, all he could think of was that he didn't have to work in Sir Steven's foul stables all day! How altered one's situation may be in the course of a morning. Of course, it was closer to noon now.
It occurred to him that he should probably do as Lydia had bid him, and he bathed and dressed in the attire provided for him. While it was not half so rich as what some of the nobles in the parade had been wearing, it was the nicest thing Jonathan had ever been allowed to don. He was dressed in dark blues and greens that suited him precisely.
He sat back on the bed, filled with sudden wonder at how lucky he was. Of all the people watching the parade that morning, he had been the only one to stand in loyalty to his monarch. What were the chances of being that one person? He lay back on the bed, suddenly feeling abnormally fatigued. After all the excitement of the day, Jonathan fell into a deep sleep.
Jonathan was not prepared for the sight before him. He then faced the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He had indeed heard of the princess' beauty, and how it was said to surpass that of any woman who had ever lived, but he had never really believed it. After all, every princess, no matter how plain and homely, is always said to be beautiful. It wasn't deception with her, though; she truly lived up to her reputation. Even with blood and dirt on her face, clutching her knife, her hair coming our of its bun, and distrust written in her eyes, she was truly radiant. He had never seen anyone like this woman, this woman who would one day rule all of Bellen.
Princess Iris was eying him sceptically, when he heard the heavy footsteps of guards coming up behind him. It was then that it struck him,
--Who am I to approach Her Majesty, Princess Iris Abigail, heir to the throne of Bellen?--
He dropped to his knees in fear. After all, he could easily be banished or beheaded, for such a crime as to *stand* before a member of the royal family. He knew he must say something, but what to say? He said the only thing he could think of.
"Happy Birthday, your Highness," he said breathlessly, knowing that things really couldn't get much worse. One of the guards asked him what his name was, and he told the man, though he didn't understand why anyone would want to know, if he was going to be banished or killed anyway. He glanced up to see that the king had turned around and come to where they were, followed closely by his advisers and attendants, and was speaking to one of the guards, while the princess kneeled beside one of her maids. The king then turned to consult with one of his advisers. After a moment, he turned to Jonathan, brought him to his feet, and turned to the crowds.
"This young man, Jonathan of Cavelnar, has saved the life of my daughter, the princess!" the king announced, "He is to be honored by all!" As the people began to chant his name, the guards lifted him on their shoulders. He watched as the princess refused to ride in her litter and insisted that her maid, who was unconscious, be carried in it, while she rode with her father. When the royal party was sufficiently ready, they all headed off toward the palace.
As the guards carried him with the party to the palace, Jonathan allowed his mind to wander. He hoped that he would not be too sorely missed at Sir Steven's stables, but thoughts of such mundane things soon gave way to grander contemplations. He wondered what would happen to him once they reached the palace. He was now certain that he was not to be banished, as the king had allayed all his fears with his speech. What did they want with him, then? It was a conundrum to him.
As they rounded a curve in the road, Jonathan was stunned by the sight before him. He had indeed heard of how the the great Bellenar Palace was built into the side of Mt. Bellenar, but he was unprepared for the majesty of the sight of such an architectural masterpiece. The grand palace looked as though it could have really been part of the mountain. Its towers climbed high into the sky, and the deep, wide mote circled the whole mountain. The only way into or out of the palace grounds was through the great drawbridge at the very front of the surrounding walls, which had been opened to grant them entrance. It was a sight to behold.
When they entered the palace grounds, the guards put him down, and the drawbridge was shut. He watched as the king and the princess dismounted and went with their attendants into the palace proper, leaving him confused and feeling very alone. People were bustling here and there, and no one seemed to know that he existed. What was he supposed to do, anyway? He sat in the courtyard and waited.
After a time, Jonathan noticed a young girl, who looked to be about eight years old, watching him curiously. She was a short, skinny girl with long, frizzy red hair, and big, brown, puppy-dog eyes. He watched her out of the corner of his eye for a few moments. She seemed to be contemplating whether or not to approach him. He gave her a small wave, hoping to reassure her. Upon seeing this, she came up to him and timidly asked, with a heavy lisp, "Are you Jonathan, the one who saved the princess?"
"I guess that's me," he answered uncertainly.
"Really? You beat those big, tough guards?" she asked with awe.
"Oh yes," he replied, amused by the child, "I just walked up to them and bashed their heads together!"
"Wow! Well, I'm Lydia. The princess sent me," she said, "You're to come with me. I'll show you where you can rest," she grinned, revealing that she had lost her two front teeth.
"All right, lead the way," he replied as he got up and followed Lydia into the palace. She led him through many hallways and up a spiral staircase, chattering the whole way. She finally paused a a door. She opened it and ushered him into the room. It seemed to be a small bedchamber. Lying on the bed to his right was a fine new set of clothes for him. There was a fireplace on the left wall, a small table and chair straight ahead beneath a small window, which faced to the west, and a bathtub in the center of the room, already filled with hot water.
"You should get all cleaned up for the big birthday banquet tonight. You're a mess! I'll be back later to check on you," she said with a wink. With that, she left him alone again.
Now here he was, a guest in the royal palace! It seemed too good to be true. Just this morning, all he could think of was that he didn't have to work in Sir Steven's foul stables all day! How altered one's situation may be in the course of a morning. Of course, it was closer to noon now.
It occurred to him that he should probably do as Lydia had bid him, and he bathed and dressed in the attire provided for him. While it was not half so rich as what some of the nobles in the parade had been wearing, it was the nicest thing Jonathan had ever been allowed to don. He was dressed in dark blues and greens that suited him precisely.
He sat back on the bed, filled with sudden wonder at how lucky he was. Of all the people watching the parade that morning, he had been the only one to stand in loyalty to his monarch. What were the chances of being that one person? He lay back on the bed, suddenly feeling abnormally fatigued. After all the excitement of the day, Jonathan fell into a deep sleep.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Chapter II
Princess Iris Abigail sat in her litter, moving steadily down the road, accompanied by her attendants and guards. She did not particularly enjoy parades, especially on her birthday. She would not object today, though. That morning, she had decided that she was going to have a lovely day, regardless of the inconveniences of public appearance, dreary weather, itchy gowns and tight shoes, or anything else that might normally sour her mood.
The parade was a grand one. Iris was impressed at the number of nobles her father had convinced to join the parade, which would end at Bellenar Palace. Everyone in the parade was invited to Iris' "birthday banquet," as her father was calling it. To be honest, Iris wasn't close with most of the nobles attending her birthday celebration. The few nobles whom she was close to had not been invited by her father, most likely because his advisers told him that they were not "proper company for a princess."
Her most important birthday guest, whom she was looking forward to getting to know, was the oldest princess of Zourpaun, Katheryn Isabella. Katheryn was 24 years old and still unmarried, which was very unusual for a princess, or any woman for that matter. She had been ill with the plague when she was a child, and had been physically weak ever since. Due to this, she had not done much of anything since she arrived in Cavelnar three days before, too fatigued from her long journey. Iris didn't know Katheryn very well, but so far she had found the foreign princess to be a nice woman, despite their age difference.
One good thing about turning eighteen was that Iris now would have some say in the governing of the country; her father had promised her that much. She knew that her father wasn’t doing most of the ruling, so not all of the blame was his when it came to the horrible state of the country. Most of it fell on the shoulders of his trusted advisers, whom he consulted on every matter, from financial issues to banquet menus. Iris never did understand how these men had come to be her father’s closest friends. Many of them, while being charming and good looking, were foolish and uneducated in politics, hardly fit to advise the leader of a country. Some of them, though, she knew were poisoning her father's mind and influencing him for the worse. She was uncertain which of them were using her father's power and position for their own ends, but she suspected Lord Drusmab, especially. She could see him ahead of her, speaking with her father. It wasn't the first time she'd seen them conversing in hushed tones in public.
Just then, Sir Envoile rode up along side her litter, and said pleasantly, "Good morning, your Highness, and Happy Birthday!"
Iris turned to him and involuntarily smiled. Sir Envoile was a knight in his mid-thirties, who had risen in her father's favor after coming back from the war in Slorania. He was an agreeable man and an eternal optimist, who was always conscientious about paying attentions to his princess. She greeted him warmly: "Why, thank you, Sir Envoile! And how is the Lady Envoile?"
"She is not doing very well, I am afraid," he replied soberly, "My lady seems to have become ill since she last came to call on you. Unfortunately, she will not be able to attend your birthday festivities tonight. I'm terribly sorry."
Iris was shocked! Lady Envoile was a wonderful woman, who was always in fine health. A terrible thought struck her, and for a moment she slipped from her royal formality to ask apprehensively, "It's not the plague, is it?"
The knight looked grave as he answered, "It doesn't seem too bad yet, but the physician says it's too soon to say."
“Well, if there is anything my father or I can do for her, you don’t even have to ask,” Iris offered sincerely. She dearly liked Lady Envoile. She had married only a few months before, and had been Iris’ friend for years. "She will be sorely missed at the banquet tonight," she added, rather disappointed to learn of another friend's inability to attend the banquet. Her evening was becoming rather bleak. She had hoped she would have some friends to talk with, but now it appeared that it would just be her father and the company he preferred. After all, the banquet was his party, anyway.
As Sir Envoile bid her farewell, after promising to see her again that evening, and rode on, Iris went back to thinking. She didn't particularly like banquets, as she never did eat much. She would rather have a ball than a banquet. Balls were so much more elegant, but her father loved to eat, and couldn't understand how she could want to dance when she could be eating. There never were balls at Bellenar Palace. Even better than a ball, though, would be to do whatever she wanted for one day. If it were up to her, she would have a quiet party with only her dear friends. Last year, her cousin, Olivia Matilda, the crown princess of Duqair, had come to visit; and they had gone out horseback riding with their attendants and had taken a picnic with them. It had been wonderful. She wished she could have something like that this year. She and Betsy, her attendant and close friend, had planned on going riding this afternoon, but it looked as if they would be too busy with all the guests, if it didn't rain and spoil everything.
She had done it again! She had slipped into that miserable mood that seemed bent on haunting her today. She wasn’t going to be dejected and hopeless on her birthday. Today was a day for being joyful, not grumpy. It wasn’t worth it, to be melancholy on this day of all days. It was much more pleasant to be bright and cheerful, whether she felt that way or not. After all, Betsy always said that, when you smile on the outside, it seeps down to the inside.
Iris turned to Betsy, who was riding alongside her litter, and said brightly, “It is so nice to get out of the palace in the morning, is it not?” She hoped Betsy didn’t notice that she wasn’t feeling quite as chipper as she was trying to act. If Betsy perceived this, she hid it well.
Betsy replied pleasantly, “Oh yes, it is wonderful to get out of doors, though it looks as if it might rain. It would be a shame for it to rain on your Highness’ birthday.” She was a pretty girl, though not as stunningly beautiful as Iris, about seventeen years old, with long, wavy, red hair and deep blue eyes. She was shorter than Iris, and had more of a figure.
Iris' mind was not on what her maid was saying, however. She had turned her attention to the people gazing up at her from the streets. These were her subjects, the people she was in charge of protecting from their enemies, whether they be from Slorania or from inside the very palace. She smiled at them and waved kindly. They gave a thunderous cheer, making her want to cover her ears, but of course that would be improper. These people loved her! She wondered at how these people could adore her, when they didn’t even know her.
“You give them hope, your Highness,” Betsy said meaningfully, above the roar of the crowds, as though she could read her princess' thoughts. These words brought tears to Iris’ eyes. These people looked to her as their savior! How was she supposed to save them when, in truth, she had almost no power? Betsy was about to say more, when an arrow whizzed by her face, stunning her into silence. Another arrow hit Betsy’s horse, which fell to the ground, as Betsy leaped from her saddle. Pandemonium was raging among Iris’ attendants and guards. She could tell that some of them had betrayed her, and were attacking the others. Her litter-bearers were hit with arrows, and dropped her on the road. Two of the attackers finished off the last of her guards, and turned around to come toward her.
Iris was filled with fear of these two, who so easily defeated her many guardians. What could she do? The two guards had reached her now, both armed with swords and clubs. Betsy took her hand, pulling her up and away from danger. Iris turned to run, only to find that one of them had cut her off. She quickly grabbed the knife that she always kept hidden under her cloak. The guard sneered at her with ugly, crooked teeth and slashed at her neck. She tried to block him with her knife, protecting her neck, but getting sliced down her left cheek. The other guard hit Betsy over the head with his heavy, wooden club, knocking her out completely .
"Betsy!" Iris cried out amid the confusion. How was she supposed to be the savior of her people if she couldn't even save Betsy or herself? An arrow hit her in the right shoulder. Her fear turned to anger at the injustice the evil men were doing. With tears and blood from the stinging cut running down her face, her shoulder in great pain, the princess turned to her attackers and cried, with confidence she did not feel, "You will pay for this traitorous crime against the Royal Family of Bellen! How dare you? Why, you, you scum!"
The first guard just laughed in her face, and taunted, "Who will ever know who we were, little princess girl? After all, there's no way anyone could ever find out, since you won't live to
tell the tale!"
The other guard, not wanting to be left out, chimed in, "Yeah! No one will ever know why we-"
"Shut up!" the first guard snarled, cutting him off, "That's unimportant!" While they were yelling at each other, Iris noticed her father and his guards heading her way, to save her, no doubt. What was taking them so long? They had best make haste.
The guards had turned their attention back to her, and the first one took his sword, posed to strike. "Say your prayers, little princess," he snarled, a wicked sneer upon his face, "I promise, it'll all be over in a moment."
--So, this is how my life will end,--
she thought dramatically, as time seemed to stand still for that one moment,
--murdered by my own guards, at the tender young age of eighteen. After my death, there will be no chance of ending the war. It might even be suggested that Slorania was behind the assassination! And what if they are? It doesn't matter now, anyway. --
Iris took a deep breath, trying to look ready to face her doom, when the two guards fell motionless at her feet, both knocked out by a tall young peasant man, who was breathing heavily and staring at her with wide, hazel eyes.
As they were surrounded by guards, he fell to his knees, and said breathlessly, "Happy Birthday, your Highness."
The parade was a grand one. Iris was impressed at the number of nobles her father had convinced to join the parade, which would end at Bellenar Palace. Everyone in the parade was invited to Iris' "birthday banquet," as her father was calling it. To be honest, Iris wasn't close with most of the nobles attending her birthday celebration. The few nobles whom she was close to had not been invited by her father, most likely because his advisers told him that they were not "proper company for a princess."
Her most important birthday guest, whom she was looking forward to getting to know, was the oldest princess of Zourpaun, Katheryn Isabella. Katheryn was 24 years old and still unmarried, which was very unusual for a princess, or any woman for that matter. She had been ill with the plague when she was a child, and had been physically weak ever since. Due to this, she had not done much of anything since she arrived in Cavelnar three days before, too fatigued from her long journey. Iris didn't know Katheryn very well, but so far she had found the foreign princess to be a nice woman, despite their age difference.
One good thing about turning eighteen was that Iris now would have some say in the governing of the country; her father had promised her that much. She knew that her father wasn’t doing most of the ruling, so not all of the blame was his when it came to the horrible state of the country. Most of it fell on the shoulders of his trusted advisers, whom he consulted on every matter, from financial issues to banquet menus. Iris never did understand how these men had come to be her father’s closest friends. Many of them, while being charming and good looking, were foolish and uneducated in politics, hardly fit to advise the leader of a country. Some of them, though, she knew were poisoning her father's mind and influencing him for the worse. She was uncertain which of them were using her father's power and position for their own ends, but she suspected Lord Drusmab, especially. She could see him ahead of her, speaking with her father. It wasn't the first time she'd seen them conversing in hushed tones in public.
Just then, Sir Envoile rode up along side her litter, and said pleasantly, "Good morning, your Highness, and Happy Birthday!"
Iris turned to him and involuntarily smiled. Sir Envoile was a knight in his mid-thirties, who had risen in her father's favor after coming back from the war in Slorania. He was an agreeable man and an eternal optimist, who was always conscientious about paying attentions to his princess. She greeted him warmly: "Why, thank you, Sir Envoile! And how is the Lady Envoile?"
"She is not doing very well, I am afraid," he replied soberly, "My lady seems to have become ill since she last came to call on you. Unfortunately, she will not be able to attend your birthday festivities tonight. I'm terribly sorry."
Iris was shocked! Lady Envoile was a wonderful woman, who was always in fine health. A terrible thought struck her, and for a moment she slipped from her royal formality to ask apprehensively, "It's not the plague, is it?"
The knight looked grave as he answered, "It doesn't seem too bad yet, but the physician says it's too soon to say."
“Well, if there is anything my father or I can do for her, you don’t even have to ask,” Iris offered sincerely. She dearly liked Lady Envoile. She had married only a few months before, and had been Iris’ friend for years. "She will be sorely missed at the banquet tonight," she added, rather disappointed to learn of another friend's inability to attend the banquet. Her evening was becoming rather bleak. She had hoped she would have some friends to talk with, but now it appeared that it would just be her father and the company he preferred. After all, the banquet was his party, anyway.
As Sir Envoile bid her farewell, after promising to see her again that evening, and rode on, Iris went back to thinking. She didn't particularly like banquets, as she never did eat much. She would rather have a ball than a banquet. Balls were so much more elegant, but her father loved to eat, and couldn't understand how she could want to dance when she could be eating. There never were balls at Bellenar Palace. Even better than a ball, though, would be to do whatever she wanted for one day. If it were up to her, she would have a quiet party with only her dear friends. Last year, her cousin, Olivia Matilda, the crown princess of Duqair, had come to visit; and they had gone out horseback riding with their attendants and had taken a picnic with them. It had been wonderful. She wished she could have something like that this year. She and Betsy, her attendant and close friend, had planned on going riding this afternoon, but it looked as if they would be too busy with all the guests, if it didn't rain and spoil everything.
She had done it again! She had slipped into that miserable mood that seemed bent on haunting her today. She wasn’t going to be dejected and hopeless on her birthday. Today was a day for being joyful, not grumpy. It wasn’t worth it, to be melancholy on this day of all days. It was much more pleasant to be bright and cheerful, whether she felt that way or not. After all, Betsy always said that, when you smile on the outside, it seeps down to the inside.
Iris turned to Betsy, who was riding alongside her litter, and said brightly, “It is so nice to get out of the palace in the morning, is it not?” She hoped Betsy didn’t notice that she wasn’t feeling quite as chipper as she was trying to act. If Betsy perceived this, she hid it well.
Betsy replied pleasantly, “Oh yes, it is wonderful to get out of doors, though it looks as if it might rain. It would be a shame for it to rain on your Highness’ birthday.” She was a pretty girl, though not as stunningly beautiful as Iris, about seventeen years old, with long, wavy, red hair and deep blue eyes. She was shorter than Iris, and had more of a figure.
Iris' mind was not on what her maid was saying, however. She had turned her attention to the people gazing up at her from the streets. These were her subjects, the people she was in charge of protecting from their enemies, whether they be from Slorania or from inside the very palace. She smiled at them and waved kindly. They gave a thunderous cheer, making her want to cover her ears, but of course that would be improper. These people loved her! She wondered at how these people could adore her, when they didn’t even know her.
“You give them hope, your Highness,” Betsy said meaningfully, above the roar of the crowds, as though she could read her princess' thoughts. These words brought tears to Iris’ eyes. These people looked to her as their savior! How was she supposed to save them when, in truth, she had almost no power? Betsy was about to say more, when an arrow whizzed by her face, stunning her into silence. Another arrow hit Betsy’s horse, which fell to the ground, as Betsy leaped from her saddle. Pandemonium was raging among Iris’ attendants and guards. She could tell that some of them had betrayed her, and were attacking the others. Her litter-bearers were hit with arrows, and dropped her on the road. Two of the attackers finished off the last of her guards, and turned around to come toward her.
Iris was filled with fear of these two, who so easily defeated her many guardians. What could she do? The two guards had reached her now, both armed with swords and clubs. Betsy took her hand, pulling her up and away from danger. Iris turned to run, only to find that one of them had cut her off. She quickly grabbed the knife that she always kept hidden under her cloak. The guard sneered at her with ugly, crooked teeth and slashed at her neck. She tried to block him with her knife, protecting her neck, but getting sliced down her left cheek. The other guard hit Betsy over the head with his heavy, wooden club, knocking her out completely .
"Betsy!" Iris cried out amid the confusion. How was she supposed to be the savior of her people if she couldn't even save Betsy or herself? An arrow hit her in the right shoulder. Her fear turned to anger at the injustice the evil men were doing. With tears and blood from the stinging cut running down her face, her shoulder in great pain, the princess turned to her attackers and cried, with confidence she did not feel, "You will pay for this traitorous crime against the Royal Family of Bellen! How dare you? Why, you, you scum!"
The first guard just laughed in her face, and taunted, "Who will ever know who we were, little princess girl? After all, there's no way anyone could ever find out, since you won't live to
tell the tale!"
The other guard, not wanting to be left out, chimed in, "Yeah! No one will ever know why we-"
"Shut up!" the first guard snarled, cutting him off, "That's unimportant!" While they were yelling at each other, Iris noticed her father and his guards heading her way, to save her, no doubt. What was taking them so long? They had best make haste.
The guards had turned their attention back to her, and the first one took his sword, posed to strike. "Say your prayers, little princess," he snarled, a wicked sneer upon his face, "I promise, it'll all be over in a moment."
--So, this is how my life will end,--
she thought dramatically, as time seemed to stand still for that one moment,
--murdered by my own guards, at the tender young age of eighteen. After my death, there will be no chance of ending the war. It might even be suggested that Slorania was behind the assassination! And what if they are? It doesn't matter now, anyway. --
Iris took a deep breath, trying to look ready to face her doom, when the two guards fell motionless at her feet, both knocked out by a tall young peasant man, who was breathing heavily and staring at her with wide, hazel eyes.
As they were surrounded by guards, he fell to his knees, and said breathlessly, "Happy Birthday, your Highness."
Chapter I
Jonathan stood amidst the crowd of onlookers, trying to see the wide street that cloudy autumn morning. The parade went on and on! It was so boring, watching nobleman after nobleman pass by with their wives, on horseback, in a chariot or borne on a litter. Jonathan had helped to carry a litter once, when one of the bearers had sprained an ankle. That was how he had come to work as a stable boy for Sir Steven, as the litter had belonged to Sir Steven's lady.
Jonathan really was grateful that the Lady Steven had insisted that all of the servants be given today off, as it was a national holiday, the princess' birthday. She had even been so kind as to to take any of the servants who wished to see the parade with them! So, here he was. He did not really care to see the parade, but it was that or stay at Sir Steven's stables all day. It would have been nice to spend his holiday with his family, but they lived on a village farm which was several days' hike from Cavelnar, the capitol city of Bellen, where Jonathan lived, and he had to work tomorrow.
Jonathan was a young man, of about nineteen years, with thick, black hair and hazel eyes. He had been born on a small peasant farm on the outskirts of Cavelnar. When his father became ill with the plague, they feared he would die. He did not die, but, like all those who lived through the plague, he was too frail and weak to do much, and could no longer work the farm. Without him, his sons could not keep the farm going, and his family had been forced to move to his brother's farm, out in the country.
It must have been almost a year ago when Jonathan had decided the farmer's life was not for him. It wasn't like he had a choice, since his uncle, having no sons and only one step-daughter, Berta, was leaving his farm to Jonathan's older brother, Henry, who was engaged to Berta. So, he had left, one crisp autumn morning after the wedding, headed to Cavelnar, to seek his fortune.
Jonathan watched the parade from the side of the main road that runs through Cavelnar, with all the other loyal citizens who wanted to catch a glimpse of nobility. Normally, this road would be a mass of people, all trying to go to all of the places that they needed to go, beggars on the street begging for money or food, and peddlers trying to sell you anything they could find.
Not so, today; for today, the street had been cleared; and noble men and women passed by, aloof to the unworthy peasants who gazed at them in awe, toward the royal palace, where a banquet was being thrown for their princess' birthday that evening.
Now came Eric II, king of Bellen and High Duke of the Western Islands. He was a short, round, balding, little man with a bejeweled golden crown that seemed much too big for his head. He rode his white war stallion, Copper, with his attendants and advisers riding alongside of him, all of them dressed gaudily and impractically. King Eric II had ruled for as long as Jonathan could remember. His Majesty was not very intellectual and spent most of his time banqueting, sporting, and just having a grand old time. He truly spent very little of his precious time ruling his country. His wife, Queen Abigail of Duqair, had done most of the ruling for him, that is, before she died of the plague.
Since that tragic event, more than three years ago, the country had almost completely fallen into ruin. While Jonathan was comparatively ignorant of most politics, their effects on the lower classes were something he knew about first hand. His family and other farming families around them were having a difficult time, trying to make ends meet, now more than ever. They earned less and less on their crops and livestock, yet the prices of the supplies they needed continued to rise. Worse still, the king was confiscating crops to feed his soldiers on the battlefront. It was truly crippling, though, for those whose sons were drafted into the king's service, to fight his war. Since he had moved to the city, however, he had truly come to see just how terrible the situation was. In the past year he had lived in Cavelnar, he had personally witnessed the amount of crime, which had been great before, grow in extreme ways. So many were without work, without homes, without food; yet the king was doing nothing to remedy the problems he had caused with his wars.
There had been relative peace, while the queen was living. Without her presence in the court, there was no one to pull back on the reigns of those who wanted wars. It wasn't long after her death, that they came up with an excuse to start a war against Slorania. Jonathan couldn't remember, now, what the reason had been for starting this war, years before, but he was sure that it wasn't worth it anymore, for them to keep fighting, when they were starving back home, and the plague continued to spread. Regardless of the suffering of his people, the king threw banquets at every opportunity, and spent gold as though it grew on trees, while the royal treasury grew dangerously low. The only person there who seemed to have enough sense to rule was the princess.
Here came the princess now, the one and only Iris Abigail, sole heir to the the throne of Bellen and, it was said, the most beautiful maiden that had ever lived. She sat upon a litter borne by four honored guards, surrounded by her attendants and protectors. Her Highness turned to her subjects, smiled, and waved to them. The crowds cheered wildly, making a truly deafening sound.
She really was rather lovely, a tall woman with long, brown hair all piled atop her head in a bun, and crowned with a tiara. She was clothed in a long, royal purple gown and draped in a red velvet cape, her blue eyes shining in the autumn air. Today, she was turning eighteen, and soon must marry, whether she wanted to or not. It was not proper for a maiden to be so old without a husband!
Just then, quite suddenly, three of the princess' armored guards, at least, he thought it was three, turned on the others! Pandemonium broke out within Her Highness' attendants. One of the assassins was felled, but the princess’ guards could not hold off all three. Hidden archers quickly shot down any guards that the traitors could not kill, injuring the litter-bearers, who then dropped the litter. Then, the remaining two assassins turned on the princess.
Jonathan really was grateful that the Lady Steven had insisted that all of the servants be given today off, as it was a national holiday, the princess' birthday. She had even been so kind as to to take any of the servants who wished to see the parade with them! So, here he was. He did not really care to see the parade, but it was that or stay at Sir Steven's stables all day. It would have been nice to spend his holiday with his family, but they lived on a village farm which was several days' hike from Cavelnar, the capitol city of Bellen, where Jonathan lived, and he had to work tomorrow.
Jonathan was a young man, of about nineteen years, with thick, black hair and hazel eyes. He had been born on a small peasant farm on the outskirts of Cavelnar. When his father became ill with the plague, they feared he would die. He did not die, but, like all those who lived through the plague, he was too frail and weak to do much, and could no longer work the farm. Without him, his sons could not keep the farm going, and his family had been forced to move to his brother's farm, out in the country.
It must have been almost a year ago when Jonathan had decided the farmer's life was not for him. It wasn't like he had a choice, since his uncle, having no sons and only one step-daughter, Berta, was leaving his farm to Jonathan's older brother, Henry, who was engaged to Berta. So, he had left, one crisp autumn morning after the wedding, headed to Cavelnar, to seek his fortune.
Jonathan watched the parade from the side of the main road that runs through Cavelnar, with all the other loyal citizens who wanted to catch a glimpse of nobility. Normally, this road would be a mass of people, all trying to go to all of the places that they needed to go, beggars on the street begging for money or food, and peddlers trying to sell you anything they could find.
Not so, today; for today, the street had been cleared; and noble men and women passed by, aloof to the unworthy peasants who gazed at them in awe, toward the royal palace, where a banquet was being thrown for their princess' birthday that evening.
Now came Eric II, king of Bellen and High Duke of the Western Islands. He was a short, round, balding, little man with a bejeweled golden crown that seemed much too big for his head. He rode his white war stallion, Copper, with his attendants and advisers riding alongside of him, all of them dressed gaudily and impractically. King Eric II had ruled for as long as Jonathan could remember. His Majesty was not very intellectual and spent most of his time banqueting, sporting, and just having a grand old time. He truly spent very little of his precious time ruling his country. His wife, Queen Abigail of Duqair, had done most of the ruling for him, that is, before she died of the plague.
Since that tragic event, more than three years ago, the country had almost completely fallen into ruin. While Jonathan was comparatively ignorant of most politics, their effects on the lower classes were something he knew about first hand. His family and other farming families around them were having a difficult time, trying to make ends meet, now more than ever. They earned less and less on their crops and livestock, yet the prices of the supplies they needed continued to rise. Worse still, the king was confiscating crops to feed his soldiers on the battlefront. It was truly crippling, though, for those whose sons were drafted into the king's service, to fight his war. Since he had moved to the city, however, he had truly come to see just how terrible the situation was. In the past year he had lived in Cavelnar, he had personally witnessed the amount of crime, which had been great before, grow in extreme ways. So many were without work, without homes, without food; yet the king was doing nothing to remedy the problems he had caused with his wars.
There had been relative peace, while the queen was living. Without her presence in the court, there was no one to pull back on the reigns of those who wanted wars. It wasn't long after her death, that they came up with an excuse to start a war against Slorania. Jonathan couldn't remember, now, what the reason had been for starting this war, years before, but he was sure that it wasn't worth it anymore, for them to keep fighting, when they were starving back home, and the plague continued to spread. Regardless of the suffering of his people, the king threw banquets at every opportunity, and spent gold as though it grew on trees, while the royal treasury grew dangerously low. The only person there who seemed to have enough sense to rule was the princess.
Here came the princess now, the one and only Iris Abigail, sole heir to the the throne of Bellen and, it was said, the most beautiful maiden that had ever lived. She sat upon a litter borne by four honored guards, surrounded by her attendants and protectors. Her Highness turned to her subjects, smiled, and waved to them. The crowds cheered wildly, making a truly deafening sound.
She really was rather lovely, a tall woman with long, brown hair all piled atop her head in a bun, and crowned with a tiara. She was clothed in a long, royal purple gown and draped in a red velvet cape, her blue eyes shining in the autumn air. Today, she was turning eighteen, and soon must marry, whether she wanted to or not. It was not proper for a maiden to be so old without a husband!
Just then, quite suddenly, three of the princess' armored guards, at least, he thought it was three, turned on the others! Pandemonium broke out within Her Highness' attendants. One of the assassins was felled, but the princess’ guards could not hold off all three. Hidden archers quickly shot down any guards that the traitors could not kill, injuring the litter-bearers, who then dropped the litter. Then, the remaining two assassins turned on the princess.
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