The lighthouse might very well be a decrepit tower perfectly in keeping with the aesthetics of the rest of the isle, but the chamber housed at the top was anything but.
Aside from the debris which had mysteriously entered, the layout was hauntingly familiar.
Walnut armoires stood opposite full length mirrors, while burgundy and gold banners were draped across walls. Candle holders, goblets, lockboxes and more were strewn upon small tables and nightstands, all within reach of a bed covered in so many cushions and pillows that what fabric lay underneath could never be spied.
The reason was clear.
A brass frame burnished to resemble gold. An embarrassing eyesore amidst the higher standards on display. But I suppose even those of the highest standing could not have everything when so far from their official holdings.
Indeed, there could be no doubt!
This chamber belonged to royalty!
And that girl … was a princess.
“A letter knife inlaid with black opals?” I mused, peering down at the streak of silver as it glimmered against the light of so many candles. “How quaint. I had one of these when I was younger.”
Coppelia, unlike myself, wasn’t content with merely judging. She picked up a small hand mirror and admired the front of her fluffy hair. And then she began plucking the tiny pearls from its rim.
“A letter knife or black opals?” she queried.
“Both. It’s a common gift for young princesses. Black opals are said to absorb misfortune, particularly ill news. By having the gemstone inlaid upon the letter knife, it’s hoped that any negative correspondence can be warded away.”
“What happens if you use something that’s not, you know, stupid expensive?”
“We use black diamonds instead.”
“Wait, isn’t that more expensive?”
“It is.”
“Soooooo … if stupid expensive is no good, you default to crazy stupid expensive?”
“Royalty does not descend a ladder once climbed, Coppelia. We only go upwards.”
I walked to one of the banners, then brushed a fingertip across the fabric. Pure silk. No dilution with linen. Here were drapes designed to be hung across royal bed chambers to hide whatever wine marked blemishes the servants had made when tripping over themselves.
So why … ?
No matter how diligently placed the furniture and decoration was, this could still never be anything other than a pale imitation of a princess’s abode.
Were this the interior of a hastily erected pavilion, then the attendants tasked with hoisting the 1200 pound armoire replete with dresses, shoes and riding attire would be thoroughly chastised for their lack of work ethics.
Clearly, this princess possessed deeply troubling circumstances of her own.
Perhaps even worse than mine.
A wildly charitable thought, of course, given that my regular accommodation these nights consisted of whatever inns the rodents hadn’t completely eaten through yet. And yet judging by the signet ring I spied within one of the lockboxes, it was a horrifying idea I needed to give credence to.
I picked up the silver ring, then grimaced.
“Now here is a toy someone merely playing at princess wouldn’t possess.”
“What is it?”
“A royal signet ring not unlike my own, bearing the seal of the Royal House of Carx.”
“Oooh, really?” Coppelia looked up from the floor, nodding at me to continue as she casually looted a small chest she’d discovered behind a hidden tile. “I feel like I should know them … should I know them?”
“You should. Because what occurs to them will set a dangerous precedent for many seasons to come. The peace of my realm, no … all the realms is at stake. All eyes turn to the Kingdom of Weinstadt, our neighbours to the south, where rebellion and strife bleeds its vineyards.”
My reflection was pensive as I walked past a mirror.
Was this flight, perhaps? News from our southern border was sparse ever since the rebellion had seized the main trade artery towards it. Grim news, indeed. If royalty had begun to flee, then it signalled a dire change in relationship upon the horizon.
Tirea and Weinstadt had long been cordial. And at times, even earnest. How populists and traitors would receive us was far less certain.
“Eh, it’s not your tiny kingdom, right? You don’t need to think about it.”
“If only. Politics moves slowly. But when it dashes, it does so like a howling gale–one now propelled by the bitter sands from the south. The Dune King looks on as Weindstadt is plundered, and all waits to see what move he shall make.”
“I think your definition of a howling gale is different to mine. That sounds more like watching menacingly.”
“R-Regardless, the Grand Duchess will not stand idly by should Weinstadt fall, whether to rebellion or annexation! There will be repercussions, no matter how this conflict ends.”
Coppelia picked up a silver necklace, noted its lack of gemstones and tossed it away.
“Huh, you think the conflict is because their princess is off writing adventure books instead of doing royal stuff like hugging babies?”
I let out a short sigh.
“Perhaps so. In which case, let us remind her about her royal responsibilities … none of which involve hugging babies. Come, Coppelia. She cannot have escaped far.”
Ignoring the rest of the furnishing, I made my way to the window.
A dark sky filled with all the heavens blinked at me. Though dusk had passed, the last of a pale light still clawed at the horizon, refusing to fade into the darkness.
A beautiful sight. And not one I would indulge in.
It was, after all, not my sky.
I had a kingdom to return to. And as I lifted myself over the window, the only thought filling my mind was how to follow the silhouette awkwardly dashing away without also needing to break into an embarrassing run.
Coppelia peeked down at me as I clutched at the rope.
“You know, I can’t help but notice you seem to have a lot of experience escaping from windows.”
I paused for a moment, swinging in the light breeze as I raised an eyebrow at her.
“I said I’m due to be abducted. I never said I’d stay to be rescued.”
And then–
I slid the rest of the way down.
Coppelia gracefully landed beside me moments after I swept my hands clean of rope bits. I directed her to the direction of the runaway princess.
“Towards there. We’ll need to walk swiftly to catch her. But not too quick. I refuse to trip over these pebbly roads and be mocked by the local hoodlums.”
“Want me to grab her first?”
“Unnecessary. She’s both a princess and a writer. She has less athletic capabilities than a bloated slug. My main concern is her fate should she fall. It sets a poor image for all of us if she plants her face in a puddle.”
Still, I set off after her at a brisk pace.
With each corner passed, I was disappointed not to see a princess bowled over while still maintaining her dignified composure. Unexpectedly of a hermit, she hadn’t yet tired. But I was not unduly shocked. Princesses had a natural predisposition towards fleeing, after all.
Eventually, we reached the end of the pebble road. The very end, in fact. The makeshift port had reached its end. Beyond an open gate marked with scrawled warnings, only barren rocks could be seen glinting beneath the moonlight.
I swept through without hesitation, finding half-joy in dried earth which wasn’t intent on claiming a broken knee like the pebble road did.
Coppelia withdrew the hand ready to catch me, then skipped ahead to eye the featureless hill leading up to the summit of this isle.
“Yup. That’s her. Almost tripping and … nope, she’s tripped. Aaaand she’s tripped again. Say, how did you know she’d go this way? She probably could’ve hidden in a barrel at the last moment.”
“Princesses feel a natural affinity towards heights, not barrels. When cornered, we seek safety in elevation. There’s a reason we sleep in towers and require attendants to carry footstools at all times.”
“Because you like looking down at peasants … ?”
I scoffed.
“Please, Coppelia. I do not require a tower or a footstool to look down at peasants … the one before us may very well do, however.”
Indeed, it was time for an impromptu lesson in princess counselling!
Though it was hardly my nature to extend a helping hand to tomorrow’s political rivals, the shared bond between all princesses demanded that I remind her about her obligations to dignity.
I did not know what calamity occurred in her mind to make her pen a book about wishing to mingle with farmers. But if word were to spread, then it wasn’t only her who would suffer the consequences.
The scandal would reverberate beneath my feet as well!
Simply imagining the number of barns I’d have to personally run down to make amends to my reputation caused me to shudder.
Thus, the indignity of climbing up a barren hill, knowing that even the smallest drop of sweat I exuded glimmered with righteousness. But against my will, none could escape. Especially when the hill led to a sharp precipice marked by so many warning signs that they formed a veritable fence.
I approached the princess, no younger than I, yet so many years my junior … or so I believed.
Indeed, the expression she wore as she turned gave room for pause.
Sharp eyes, even tired as they were, were framed against a face devoid of emotion. Before the night sky glimmering with stars, she was a silhouette carved to perfection. A beautiful princess as refined as her flowing, ashen hair. One who had not forgotten the art of tossing pissaladière aux anchois through a window while pretending it was the work of the castle poodle.
Then, she promptly dropped to her knees, fell on her sides and curled up into a ball.
“Uughh … I … I think my kidneys are cramping …”
A ghastly sight.
Yet no more than she deserved for attempting to flee from me without a finer plan in place. A rookie error. Any princess with a shred of worth prepared far in advance for all escapes contingencies, including daily stretches. I was hardly the first princess to be threatened with unwanted marriage propositions.
“Then you may relax. No matter what troubles have befallen you, I am an ally of like-mindedness. The only you shall find on this barren rock.”
The disconsolate princess looked glumly down at her knees.
“I think not. Your coming has been ordained. As has your chiding. My only surprise is that it’s taken 476 days for the crows of the publishing department to find me.”
“Excuse me?”
“I regret that your long search has met a fruitless end. The promised sequel to The Ashen Maiden’s Journey lies unwritten. I … I am incapable of finishing it. Do with me what you must. I am prepared.”
Despite the regal dress she wore and the natural comeliness she was gifted with, she appeared little more than a wisp. It was as if she’d never once caused a new hire to burst into tears for failing to bend their backs until they could touch their toes.
I palmed my face.
Ugh, princesses.
Why did they all have to be so difficult?
“A misunderstanding. Though I come to thoroughly lambast you for your existing work, I do not represent your publishing company. Rather, I’m an angel sent from above to guide you back to the path of enlightenment.”
The girl slowly looked up. The dejection on her face slowly shifted to one of appropriate awe. Yes. Even if it only looked like confusion.
“Huh?”
“Salutations, Talia … or should I refer to you by your royal title instead?”
The girl’s eyes suddenly widened.
“H-How did you … ?”
“You should carefully consider where you leave your signet ring. It’s an invaluable piece of identification while covering your mouth and laughing. Without it, peasants may merely believe you to be strange.”
The stunned princess could only open her mouth like a goldfish.
A shocking lapse of etiquette, but I had little care for that at present.
If I did, I would have insisted on exchanging introductions. The bare minimum of courtesy. But this was not the time for diplomacy. However informal, I had little intention of having this meeting noted in any records.
“A merry chase,” I said instead. “And not at all what I came searching you out for. I take it there’s a reason why you flee like a thief in the night?”
The girl before me slowly nodded, still curled like a deceased caterpillar as she lacked the will to claw back her dignity.
“There is. I am currently in the midst of fleeing from my responsibilities.”
“As a princess? Or as a writer of scandalous literature?”
“Both. But please do not look at me with such disappointment. I no longer consider myself to be either. I have disgraced myself.”
“Please, I look at a horse which doesn’t sneeze on command with disappointment. You, however, are a bathtub which doesn’t even fully meet the length of my legs.”
She gasped.
“That’s awful!”
“It is. And so while I have little care for why you reside in a lighthouse unfit to hold even my loose socks, your current work is an insult which must be rectified. The Ashen Maiden’s Journey is shameful. You may hide from your publishing department, but you cannot hide from the scorn of your peers.”
Princess Talia gave a small tilt of her head.
“Excuse me, but who are–”
“An angel. Please do not think about it.”
“But I–”
“To matters of importance. Your writing has stretched the limits of incredibility like a choux pastry beaten like bread dough. There is no saving that … were it anyone other than me standing before you.”
The princess blinked, studying my features as though to recall which heavenly portrait she’d spied me in.
I offered the courtesy of allowing her to remember my face, as I did to all who saw me. Though this meeting would fade in my own memories like last night’s dinner, it would live long in hers.
I placed my hand atop my chest and looked kindly upon this lost soul. This princess gone astray. Though her antics earned my ire, it was just as deserving as my pity.
Indeed, there was no need to fear.
For I, Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea, would shepherd this confused lamb back towards the flock … even if it meant ushering her with a flaming torch!
“Your story stalls because the concept of a princess mingling with farmers is untenable. The only way forward is to end it on a dignified note. Namely, as swiftly as possible. My suggestion–a time skip into a dream ending.”
Indeed, it was the most guaranteed way to erase all credibility in any publication–making a conclusion so controversial that any positive sentiments regarding its previous work was immediately erased from existence.
I’d believed that a rewrite would suffice, but clearly, this princess needed nothing less than to thoroughly burn her work to the ground.
All that could be done was to allow her to rise like a phoenix from the ashes, ready to once again soar above the same farmers she wished to rub hoes with.
“No, um … the story hasn’t stalled. That isn’t the reason I haven’t written anything. I just cannot. It hurts.”
“Excuse me? Do you mean you suffer a physical ailment?”
“Physical, no. It only hurts my soul. The truth is that I have no desire to write about farming. My true passion is baking recipes.”
I blinked in non-understanding.
“Then why … ?”
“My kingdom is engulfed in rebellion,” she answered simply. “It is as you surmised. Though far removed from the line of succession, I do what I can to earn income for my family.”
I held back a gasp.
This … Wasn’t this familiar?!
“The result is that I have done grave harm to the statuses of innocent princesses everywhere. Only duty carries me onwards. But each word I write etches a scar so deep into my being that I resist the urge to vomit into my ink pot. To write about farming is disgusting.”
She hugged her knees tightly together.
“That is why … I am a failure. Despite the one task I’ve set myself to complete, I cannot see past the agony. Each night, I am tormented by nightmares of hoes scraping against soil. I cannot see past the horror.”
My hands went to my mouth.
This …. This was no lost soul!
How mistaken I was!
Indeed, how could I have been so blind?
Her true calling was betrayed the moment I spied the drapes upon her makeshift chamber. Though a pale cry to splendour, it was no trappings of a barn.
Here was a princess who still bravely clung to her pride even as the burden of her duty weighed down upon her arms! A sentiment I could truly understand! After all, it was not only through rescuing my kingdom that I suffered, but also with each night I was forced to forget what I ate!
Indeed, even now, my memories were a battleground as I fought to keep the darkness away.
A darkness with a sludge like consistency, and the colour of …
“Hnnghh.”
My hand went to my stomach as a memory of something … brown threatened to bring me to my knees.
T-That was dangerous!
I almost remembered something which would have resulted in my immediate loss!
That is why … I would not stand in her way! This was a loyalist to the cause! A patriot whose only wish was to lord over the same farmers she appeased with her sacrilegious writings!
Wiping away the memory of some mystery supper from my lips, I realised that my services were not required.
Though this noble princess’s soul was wounded with each word she wrote, what leaked would eventually find its way into the ink she used.
All princesses, whether before me or in the pages of a fairytale, were destined to look upon the peasantry from up high. It was not without reason that she chose a lighthouse as her place of sacrifice.
I leaned down to offer what advice I may.
Alas, were I not also embroiled in my own struggles, I would offer my hand to lift her from the ground. But I needed every ounce of strength I possessed.
It would, after all, take all my muscles to personally toss a fully grown prince to the other side of the ocean.
“Do not fear, Princess of Weinstadt, and look to the bright future instead, for is it not the just right of all princesses to have a happy ending?”
“Huh … ?”
I offered a smile gentle enough to soothe even the murderous wailing of infants. Indeed, no matter how loud their cries were, they always quietly retreated beneath their duvets!
“The pain you suffer today is the joy you shall relieve as you roll around your bed later, knowing that your work has resulted in the pamper you deserve. So bear through with the aches and the pains, and pen your scandalous story about a princess turned farm girl … for heritage cannot be denied.”
“Excuse me?”
“A field of barley today can be an agricultural kingdom tomorrow. And pitiful bonds of friendship can be forged into bonds of loyalty. Because in the hands of a princess, even a hoe is a sceptre. I take it you understand my meaning?”
The girl before me appeared as though she didn’t.
Yet after a moment, her eyes grew wide as the seeds of an idea began to sprout.
Indeed, a princess who was a farm girl was still destined to lead them as a queen!
The moral of the story–you may take a princess from her tower, but you may never take a princess from her obligations. And ours were as immovable as the backs of the peasants we sat on.
“... Who are you?” she asked, her voice suddenly hushed.
“Merely a wandering soul also in need of directions. Although mine are very much literal, not emotional. The Sea Stone. I shall need to borrow it as payment for my advisory services.”
“Huh? The Sea Stone?”
I nodded.
“Preferably for an indeterminate amount of time, free of interest and any queries regarding when it shall be returned. I was informed it’s in your possession. An artifact which is doubtless not as practical as its popularity would suggest. Do not worry. I’m prepared to be disappointed.”
The princess before me looked up in thought, before giving a quick nod.
“Ah, that? Yes, I had it.”
Hmmmmmm.
‘Had’.
Yes. My astute princess senses were tingling.
“You did? Where is it now?”
I was answered by the sight of the girl rolling onto her other side.
Then, she pointed over the cliff.
“I threw it away,” she said, slowly rolling back to face me. “I hoped to find my muse, but it refused to work so I grew tired of it.”
I briefly shut my eyes to the world.
On one hand, yes, this was indeed even beyond my expected range of disappointment.
And yet on the other, I had to acknowledge that tossing away a magical artifact for not working on demand was indeed a very respectably princess thing to do. I could not fault her.
I, in fact, would have thrown it away further.
“I … I see. You threw it away. Very well.”
“Did you need it for something?”
“The Golden Prince. My boot has an unscheduled meeting with him.”
The princess creased her brows in thought, before once again rolling onto her side.
This time, she did not stop, instead rolling perilously to the edge of the cliff. She pointed once more.
“Oh, that man? I do not know where he is. Truthfully, I had to work rather hard to avoid his knocking on my door. But if I were to guess, then I’d imagine he’d be on his ship.”
I walked over, eyeing the precipice with care.
Then, I spied the vessel nestled between the crags of a cove, the tip of its golden sail betrayed by the moonlight seeping down from an open chasm.
Oh, but what a wonderful gleam it was.
Almost as fine as my smile.
“What is your true name, ‘Talia’?” I asked, daring half an introduction.
“That is my name.”
“Excuse me?”
“I am Princess Talia, daughter to Prince Haston of the Royal House of Carx.”
I nodded.
Yes … I’d never heard of her in my life!
“Regret only that you did not meet with me sooner, Princess Talia,” I said, allowing the backdrop of stars to illuminate my figure as I turned to leave. “Your road of redemption could have been shortened. But do not be unduly concerned. We shall meet again, and when we do, I shall thoroughly critique your next book.”
The Princess of Weinstadt released her arms from around her knees as she slowly righted herself upon the cracked earth.
Her eyes wandered from my face to my attire, to my hairband resplendent with an undying black rose, and then to the silver fae ring upon my finger. The copper ring she looked at in puzzlement.
Especially as it mysteriously vanished from my finger.
Regardless, she gave a small, beautiful smile, suddenly seeming less like a pitiful hermit rolling on the ground and more a princess of her kingdom.
“... Yes, I imagine we will.”
The lighthouse might very well be a decrepit tower perfectly in keeping with the aesthetics of the rest of the isle, but the chamber housed at the top was anything but.
Aside from the debris which had mysteriously entered, the layout was hauntingly familiar.
Walnut armoires stood opposite full length mirrors, while burgundy and gold banners were draped across walls. Candle holders, goblets, lockboxes and more were strewn upon small tables and nightstands, all within reach of a bed covered in so many cushions and pillows that what fabric lay underneath could never be spied.
The reason was clear.
A brass frame burnished to resemble gold. An embarrassing eyesore amidst the higher standards on display. But I suppose even those of the highest standing could not have everything when so far from their official holdings.
Indeed, there could be no doubt!
This chamber belonged to royalty!
And that girl … was a princess.
“A letter knife inlaid with black opals?” I mused, peering down at the streak of silver as it glimmered against the light of so many candles. “How quaint. I had one of these when I was younger.”
Coppelia, unlike myself, wasn’t content with merely judging. She picked up a small hand mirror and admired the front of her fluffy hair. And then she began plucking the tiny pearls from its rim.
“A letter knife or black opals?” she queried.
“Both. It’s a common gift for young princesses. Black opals are said to absorb misfortune, particularly ill news. By having the gemstone inlaid upon the letter knife, it’s hoped that any negative correspondence can be warded away.”
“What happens if you use something that’s not, you know, stupid expensive?”
“We use black diamonds instead.”
“Wait, isn’t that more expensive?”
“It is.”
“Soooooo … if stupid expensive is no good, you default to crazy stupid expensive?”
“Royalty does not descend a ladder once climbed, Coppelia. We only go upwards.”
I walked to one of the banners, then brushed a fingertip across the fabric. Pure silk. No dilution with linen. Here were drapes designed to be hung across royal bed chambers to hide whatever wine marked blemishes the servants had made when tripping over themselves.
So why … ?
No matter how diligently placed the furniture and decoration was, this could still never be anything other than a pale imitation of a princess’s abode.
Were this the interior of a hastily erected pavilion, then the attendants tasked with hoisting the 1200 pound armoire replete with dresses, shoes and riding attire would be thoroughly chastised for their lack of work ethics.
Clearly, this princess possessed deeply troubling circumstances of her own.
Perhaps even worse than mine.
A wildly charitable thought, of course, given that my regular accommodation these nights consisted of whatever inns the rodents hadn’t completely eaten through yet. And yet judging by the signet ring I spied within one of the lockboxes, it was a horrifying idea I needed to give credence to.
I picked up the silver ring, then grimaced.
“Now here is a toy someone merely playing at princess wouldn’t possess.”
“What is it?”
“A royal signet ring not unlike my own, bearing the seal of the Royal House of Carx.”
“Oooh, really?” Coppelia looked up from the floor, nodding at me to continue as she casually looted a small chest she’d discovered behind a hidden tile. “I feel like I should know them … should I know them?”
“You should. Because what occurs to them will set a dangerous precedent for many seasons to come. The peace of my realm, no … all the realms is at stake. All eyes turn to the Kingdom of Weinstadt, our neighbours to the south, where rebellion and strife bleeds its vineyards.”
My reflection was pensive as I walked past a mirror.
Was this flight, perhaps? News from our southern border was sparse ever since the rebellion had seized the main trade artery towards it. Grim news, indeed. If royalty had begun to flee, then it signalled a dire change in relationship upon the horizon.
Tirea and Weinstadt had long been cordial. And at times, even earnest. How populists and traitors would receive us was far less certain.
“Eh, it’s not your tiny kingdom, right? You don’t need to think about it.”
“If only. Politics moves slowly. But when it dashes, it does so like a howling gale–one now propelled by the bitter sands from the south. The Dune King looks on as Weindstadt is plundered, and all waits to see what move he shall make.”
“I think your definition of a howling gale is different to mine. That sounds more like watching menacingly.”
“R-Regardless, the Grand Duchess will not stand idly by should Weinstadt fall, whether to rebellion or annexation! There will be repercussions, no matter how this conflict ends.”
Coppelia picked up a silver necklace, noted its lack of gemstones and tossed it away.
“Huh, you think the conflict is because their princess is off writing adventure books instead of doing royal stuff like hugging babies?”
I let out a short sigh.
“Perhaps so. In which case, let us remind her about her royal responsibilities … none of which involve hugging babies. Come, Coppelia. She cannot have escaped far.”
Ignoring the rest of the furnishing, I made my way to the window.
A dark sky filled with all the heavens blinked at me. Though dusk had passed, the last of a pale light still clawed at the horizon, refusing to fade into the darkness.
A beautiful sight. And not one I would indulge in.
It was, after all, not my sky.
I had a kingdom to return to. And as I lifted myself over the window, the only thought filling my mind was how to follow the silhouette awkwardly dashing away without also needing to break into an embarrassing run.
Coppelia peeked down at me as I clutched at the rope.
“You know, I can’t help but notice you seem to have a lot of experience escaping from windows.”
I paused for a moment, swinging in the light breeze as I raised an eyebrow at her.
“I said I’m due to be abducted. I never said I’d stay to be rescued.”
And then–
I slid the rest of the way down.
Coppelia gracefully landed beside me moments after I swept my hands clean of rope bits. I directed her to the direction of the runaway princess.
“Towards there. We’ll need to walk swiftly to catch her. But not too quick. I refuse to trip over these pebbly roads and be mocked by the local hoodlums.”
“Want me to grab her first?”
“Unnecessary. She’s both a princess and a writer. She has less athletic capabilities than a bloated slug. My main concern is her fate should she fall. It sets a poor image for all of us if she plants her face in a puddle.”
Still, I set off after her at a brisk pace.
With each corner passed, I was disappointed not to see a princess bowled over while still maintaining her dignified composure. Unexpectedly of a hermit, she hadn’t yet tired. But I was not unduly shocked. Princesses had a natural predisposition towards fleeing, after all.
Eventually, we reached the end of the pebble road. The very end, in fact. The makeshift port had reached its end. Beyond an open gate marked with scrawled warnings, only barren rocks could be seen glinting beneath the moonlight.
I swept through without hesitation, finding half-joy in dried earth which wasn’t intent on claiming a broken knee like the pebble road did.
Coppelia withdrew the hand ready to catch me, then skipped ahead to eye the featureless hill leading up to the summit of this isle.
“Yup. That’s her. Almost tripping and … nope, she’s tripped. Aaaand she’s tripped again. Say, how did you know she’d go this way? She probably could’ve hidden in a barrel at the last moment.”
“Princesses feel a natural affinity towards heights, not barrels. When cornered, we seek safety in elevation. There’s a reason we sleep in towers and require attendants to carry footstools at all times.”
“Because you like looking down at peasants … ?”
I scoffed.
“Please, Coppelia. I do not require a tower or a footstool to look down at peasants … the one before us may very well do, however.”
Indeed, it was time for an impromptu lesson in princess counselling!
Though it was hardly my nature to extend a helping hand to tomorrow’s political rivals, the shared bond between all princesses demanded that I remind her about her obligations to dignity.
I did not know what calamity occurred in her mind to make her pen a book about wishing to mingle with farmers. But if word were to spread, then it wasn’t only her who would suffer the consequences.
The scandal would reverberate beneath my feet as well!
Simply imagining the number of barns I’d have to personally run down to make amends to my reputation caused me to shudder.
Thus, the indignity of climbing up a barren hill, knowing that even the smallest drop of sweat I exuded glimmered with righteousness. But against my will, none could escape. Especially when the hill led to a sharp precipice marked by so many warning signs that they formed a veritable fence.
I approached the princess, no younger than I, yet so many years my junior … or so I believed.
Indeed, the expression she wore as she turned gave room for pause.
Sharp eyes, even tired as they were, were framed against a face devoid of emotion. Before the night sky glimmering with stars, she was a silhouette carved to perfection. A beautiful princess as refined as her flowing, ashen hair. One who had not forgotten the art of tossing pissaladière aux anchois through a window while pretending it was the work of the castle poodle.
Then, she promptly dropped to her knees, fell on her sides and curled up into a ball.
“Uughh … I … I think my kidneys are cramping …”
A ghastly sight.
Yet no more than she deserved for attempting to flee from me without a finer plan in place. A rookie error. Any princess with a shred of worth prepared far in advance for all escapes contingencies, including daily stretches. I was hardly the first princess to be threatened with unwanted marriage propositions.
“Then you may relax. No matter what troubles have befallen you, I am an ally of like-mindedness. The only you shall find on this barren rock.”
The disconsolate princess looked glumly down at her knees.
“I think not. Your coming has been ordained. As has your chiding. My only surprise is that it’s taken 476 days for the crows of the publishing department to find me.”
“Excuse me?”
“I regret that your long search has met a fruitless end. The promised sequel to The Ashen Maiden’s Journey lies unwritten. I … I am incapable of finishing it. Do with me what you must. I am prepared.”
Despite the regal dress she wore and the natural comeliness she was gifted with, she appeared little more than a wisp. It was as if she’d never once caused a new hire to burst into tears for failing to bend their backs until they could touch their toes.
I palmed my face.
Ugh, princesses.
Why did they all have to be so difficult?
“A misunderstanding. Though I come to thoroughly lambast you for your existing work, I do not represent your publishing company. Rather, I’m an angel sent from above to guide you back to the path of enlightenment.”
The girl slowly looked up. The dejection on her face slowly shifted to one of appropriate awe. Yes. Even if it only looked like confusion.
“Huh?”
“Salutations, Talia … or should I refer to you by your royal title instead?”
The girl’s eyes suddenly widened.
“H-How did you … ?”
“You should carefully consider where you leave your signet ring. It’s an invaluable piece of identification while covering your mouth and laughing. Without it, peasants may merely believe you to be strange.”
The stunned princess could only open her mouth like a goldfish.
A shocking lapse of etiquette, but I had little care for that at present.
If I did, I would have insisted on exchanging introductions. The bare minimum of courtesy. But this was not the time for diplomacy. However informal, I had little intention of having this meeting noted in any records.
“A merry chase,” I said instead. “And not at all what I came searching you out for. I take it there’s a reason why you flee like a thief in the night?”
The girl before me slowly nodded, still curled like a deceased caterpillar as she lacked the will to claw back her dignity.
“There is. I am currently in the midst of fleeing from my responsibilities.”
“As a princess? Or as a writer of scandalous literature?”
“Both. But please do not look at me with such disappointment. I no longer consider myself to be either. I have disgraced myself.”
“Please, I look at a horse which doesn’t sneeze on command with disappointment. You, however, are a bathtub which doesn’t even fully meet the length of my legs.”
She gasped.
“That’s awful!”
“It is. And so while I have little care for why you reside in a lighthouse unfit to hold even my loose socks, your current work is an insult which must be rectified. The Ashen Maiden’s Journey is shameful. You may hide from your publishing department, but you cannot hide from the scorn of your peers.”
Princess Talia gave a small tilt of her head.
“Excuse me, but who are–”
“An angel. Please do not think about it.”
“But I–”
“To matters of importance. Your writing has stretched the limits of incredibility like a choux pastry beaten like bread dough. There is no saving that … were it anyone other than me standing before you.”
The princess blinked, studying my features as though to recall which heavenly portrait she’d spied me in.
I offered the courtesy of allowing her to remember my face, as I did to all who saw me. Though this meeting would fade in my own memories like last night’s dinner, it would live long in hers.
I placed my hand atop my chest and looked kindly upon this lost soul. This princess gone astray. Though her antics earned my ire, it was just as deserving as my pity.
Indeed, there was no need to fear.
For I, Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea, would shepherd this confused lamb back towards the flock … even if it meant ushering her with a flaming torch!
“Your story stalls because the concept of a princess mingling with farmers is untenable. The only way forward is to end it on a dignified note. Namely, as swiftly as possible. My suggestion–a time skip into a dream ending.”
Indeed, it was the most guaranteed way to erase all credibility in any publication–making a conclusion so controversial that any positive sentiments regarding its previous work was immediately erased from existence.
I’d believed that a rewrite would suffice, but clearly, this princess needed nothing less than to thoroughly burn her work to the ground.
All that could be done was to allow her to rise like a phoenix from the ashes, ready to once again soar above the same farmers she wished to rub hoes with.
“No, um … the story hasn’t stalled. That isn’t the reason I haven’t written anything. I just cannot. It hurts.”
“Excuse me? Do you mean you suffer a physical ailment?”
“Physical, no. It only hurts my soul. The truth is that I have no desire to write about farming. My true passion is baking recipes.”
I blinked in non-understanding.
“Then why … ?”
“My kingdom is engulfed in rebellion,” she answered simply. “It is as you surmised. Though far removed from the line of succession, I do what I can to earn income for my family.”
I held back a gasp.
This … Wasn’t this familiar?!
“The result is that I have done grave harm to the statuses of innocent princesses everywhere. Only duty carries me onwards. But each word I write etches a scar so deep into my being that I resist the urge to vomit into my ink pot. To write about farming is disgusting.”
She hugged her knees tightly together.
“That is why … I am a failure. Despite the one task I’ve set myself to complete, I cannot see past the agony. Each night, I am tormented by nightmares of hoes scraping against soil. I cannot see past the horror.”
My hands went to my mouth.
This …. This was no lost soul!
How mistaken I was!
Indeed, how could I have been so blind?
Her true calling was betrayed the moment I spied the drapes upon her makeshift chamber. Though a pale cry to splendour, it was no trappings of a barn.
Here was a princess who still bravely clung to her pride even as the burden of her duty weighed down upon her arms! A sentiment I could truly understand! After all, it was not only through rescuing my kingdom that I suffered, but also with each night I was forced to forget what I ate!
Indeed, even now, my memories were a battleground as I fought to keep the darkness away.
A darkness with a sludge like consistency, and the colour of …
“Hnnghh.”
My hand went to my stomach as a memory of something … brown threatened to bring me to my knees.
T-That was dangerous!
I almost remembered something which would have resulted in my immediate loss!
That is why … I would not stand in her way! This was a loyalist to the cause! A patriot whose only wish was to lord over the same farmers she appeased with her sacrilegious writings!
Wiping away the memory of some mystery supper from my lips, I realised that my services were not required.
Though this noble princess’s soul was wounded with each word she wrote, what leaked would eventually find its way into the ink she used.
All princesses, whether before me or in the pages of a fairytale, were destined to look upon the peasantry from up high. It was not without reason that she chose a lighthouse as her place of sacrifice.
I leaned down to offer what advice I may.
Alas, were I not also embroiled in my own struggles, I would offer my hand to lift her from the ground. But I needed every ounce of strength I possessed.
It would, after all, take all my muscles to personally toss a fully grown prince to the other side of the ocean.
“Do not fear, Princess of Weinstadt, and look to the bright future instead, for is it not the just right of all princesses to have a happy ending?”
“Huh … ?”
I offered a smile gentle enough to soothe even the murderous wailing of infants. Indeed, no matter how loud their cries were, they always quietly retreated beneath their duvets!
“The pain you suffer today is the joy you shall relieve as you roll around your bed later, knowing that your work has resulted in the pamper you deserve. So bear through with the aches and the pains, and pen your scandalous story about a princess turned farm girl … for heritage cannot be denied.”
“Excuse me?”
“A field of barley today can be an agricultural kingdom tomorrow. And pitiful bonds of friendship can be forged into bonds of loyalty. Because in the hands of a princess, even a hoe is a sceptre. I take it you understand my meaning?”
The girl before me appeared as though she didn’t.
Yet after a moment, her eyes grew wide as the seeds of an idea began to sprout.
Indeed, a princess who was a farm girl was still destined to lead them as a queen!
The moral of the story–you may take a princess from her tower, but you may never take a princess from her obligations. And ours were as immovable as the backs of the peasants we sat on.
“... Who are you?” she asked, her voice suddenly hushed.
“Merely a wandering soul also in need of directions. Although mine are very much literal, not emotional. The Sea Stone. I shall need to borrow it as payment for my advisory services.”
“Huh? The Sea Stone?”
I nodded.
“Preferably for an indeterminate amount of time, free of interest and any queries regarding when it shall be returned. I was informed it’s in your possession. An artifact which is doubtless not as practical as its popularity would suggest. Do not worry. I’m prepared to be disappointed.”
The princess before me looked up in thought, before giving a quick nod.
“Ah, that? Yes, I had it.”
Hmmmmmm.
‘Had’.
Yes. My astute princess senses were tingling.
“You did? Where is it now?”
I was answered by the sight of the girl rolling onto her other side.
Then, she pointed over the cliff.
“I threw it away,” she said, slowly rolling back to face me. “I hoped to find my muse, but it refused to work so I grew tired of it.”
I briefly shut my eyes to the world.
On one hand, yes, this was indeed even beyond my expected range of disappointment.
And yet on the other, I had to acknowledge that tossing away a magical artifact for not working on demand was indeed a very respectably princess thing to do. I could not fault her.
I, in fact, would have thrown it away further.
“I … I see. You threw it away. Very well.”
“Did you need it for something?”
“The Golden Prince. My boot has an unscheduled meeting with him.”
The princess creased her brows in thought, before once again rolling onto her side.
This time, she did not stop, instead rolling perilously to the edge of the cliff. She pointed once more.
“Oh, that man? I do not know where he is. Truthfully, I had to work rather hard to avoid his knocking on my door. But if I were to guess, then I’d imagine he’d be on his ship.”
I walked over, eyeing the precipice with care.
Then, I spied the vessel nestled between the crags of a cove, the tip of its golden sail betrayed by the moonlight seeping down from an open chasm.
Oh, but what a wonderful gleam it was.
Almost as fine as my smile.
“What is your true name, ‘Talia’?” I asked, daring half an introduction.
“That is my name.”
“Excuse me?”
“I am Princess Talia, daughter to Prince Haston of the Royal House of Carx.”
I nodded.
Yes … I’d never heard of her in my life!
“Regret only that you did not meet with me sooner, Princess Talia,” I said, allowing the backdrop of stars to illuminate my figure as I turned to leave. “Your road of redemption could have been shortened. But do not be unduly concerned. We shall meet again, and when we do, I shall thoroughly critique your next book.”
The Princess of Weinstadt released her arms from around her knees as she slowly righted herself upon the cracked earth.
Her eyes wandered from my face to my attire, to my hairband resplendent with an undying black rose, and then to the silver fae ring upon my finger. The copper ring she looked at in puzzlement.
Especially as it mysteriously vanished from my finger.
Regardless, she gave a small, beautiful smile, suddenly seeming less like a pitiful hermit rolling on the ground and more a princess of her kingdom.
“... Yes, I imagine we will.”
