Born to Rule (7 page)

The little bird tilted his head slightly as if he were listening to Alicia, but he remained silent. Alicia tried again. She sang each note of the scale slowly and clearly, waiting between each note to let the bird join in. Nothing. She tried one more time, but the weeb simply sat in his cage and stared at her.

“Oh, dear, I hope I don’t have a dud of a songbird!” Alicia murmured.

As she spoke, the shutters shook violently and swung open. A blast of raw, cold air came rushing in. The golden weeb started beating his wings against the walls of his cage as the wind swirled around Alicia. Then the wind and the weeb grew calm.

“What was that all about?” Alicia whispered, terrified, as she closed the shutters. The South Turret was beginning to feel creepier and creepier!

That night in bed, long after she had said her prayers and read two long letters from the Forgotten Princess, Alicia tried to sleep but only tossed and turned. Although her little bird remained silent and hardly fluttered a feather, Alicia seemed to feel another presence in the room. It was still autumn, but she felt so cold it could have been winter. Alicia remembered her own little joke about a two-hundred-year-old ghost being quite out of fashion. It didn’t seem so funny now. Gundersnap and Kristen were both much braver than she was. Alicia wished she could run to them now. But she did not want to be what her father called a puffball princess. Her pop’s words came back to her: “You know, dear Alicia, being a princess has its responsibilities. One must be firm and fair in judgment. One must be steadfast, true to one’s beliefs, and brave in the face of danger.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts!” Alicia whispered in the firmest voice she could.

Her father would say, “Don’t be one of those puffball princesses like Aunt Molly, always dithering about. Despite her pretty ways, she has about as much sense as a chicken. Exactly like a Belgravian Meadow Hen—all pretty feathers but not much else, and scared of its own shadow.”

The flames of the fire in the grate cast shadows across the floor of Alicia’s chamber. Alicia dared herself to sit straight up in bed and watch her own shadow for at least ten seconds. “One…two…three…,” she counted. As she moved her head, she saw her shadow with its loosed hair spread upward on the wall. She raised her arms. “Five…six…seven.” She felt the bird staring at her. “Well, go ahead and stare!” she muttered. “Eight…nine…ten.” She’d done it. “I am not a puffball princess!” she said in a firm voice—and then dived under her velvet blankets, pulling them up around her head.

When the clock chimed midnight, she was still not asleep. So Alicia decided to read just a few more pages.

Dearest, I must flee, I must flee, for your safety as well as mine. We must be apart if we shall ever have any hope of being together. I shall return to the place where I was happiest before I met you. Though I have no hope of throne or kingdom, I will be taken in and made welcome.

Alicia had often wondered what that happy place was. Where was it? What made the Forgotten Princess so happy? It must be a lovely place, she was sure. Each time she read this passage, Alicia wished that she could go to that place where her heroine sought refuge. If only she had been born back then, she could have helped the Forgotten Princess. How ice would that be? Alicia loved Kristen’s odd expressions. Yes, totally ice to help the Forgotten Princess.

As she read, she grew drowsy, and the book soon fell to her chest. Her hands rested on the cover. Did she feel the beating of her own heart through its well-worn pages? Or were there two hearts beating? And did she hear the dim notes of a song that a bird could be singing? Or was it part of a dream?

Chapter 9

THE DUCHESS OF BAGGLESNORT AND OTHER ANNOYANCES

“So you see, Your Highnesses, you cannot entrust the delicate application of these powders to your maids.”

The Duchess of Bagglesnort narrowed her eyes and surveyed the roomful of young princesses. “Prepare yourself for a shock.” She turned toward the door.

A very elderly woman dressed all in black lace was carried in on a sedan chair. “Lift your veil, Countess Vinky,” the duchess said.

Two withered hands shaking with age began to lift the veil. “Holy monk bones!” whispered Alicia. The gasps of fifteen princesses swirled through the air. The countess’s face was gray and shriveled, and one side drooped.

“Speak!” commanded the duchess.

The countess struggled to open her mouth, and when she did the words slid out one side in a slur. “The damage to my face is the result of a mixture of white lead and vinegar. I would strongly advise against using these ingredients.”

Each girl in the room began to tremble, picturing her own face shriveled, scaly, and drooping to one side.

“Thank you, Countess,” the duchess said. “Take her away.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.

Alicia looked at Kristen. “Mean!” She mouthed the word. Kristen nodded. Then they both heard Gundersnap whisper, “I do not like this duchess.”

“Now, please notice my complexion.” The duchess gently touched her face with long, tapering fingers. “It is as clear and white as the finest china. My skin is like porcelain, as many of my suitors have said!” The duchess’s lips coiled up into a smug little smile that reminded Alicia of two worms snuggling. “A bit of talc, ground chalk, and egg whites. That is the secret recipe.”

The duchess walked among the princesses, who sat at long tables as an assistant distributed the ingredients they were to pound and mix in their stone bowls. She stopped when she came to Kristen and put her hands to the princess’s face.

“Oh, dear, I should have noticed this the first night at the banquet. A flame child.”

“A what?” Kristen asked.

“You flare, dear, you flare. You must use extra talc to calm down the coloring. My goodness, young lady, you’re turning redder and redder.”

Kristen’s eyes were flashing now, and Alicia thought she actually might explode.

“I am what I am,” Kristen said through gritted teeth.

“I think she’s rather pretty, milady,” Princess Myrella said. “Brown hair, blond hair, black hair, that’s so ordinary.”

Wrong thing to say, Myrella, Alicia thought. But it was too late. The Duchess of Bagglesnort wheeled around. “There is no such thing as ordinary hair, just ordinary princesses—like yourself, little one, oozing out of the Marsh Kingdoms. What a mistake it was to admit you to Camp Princess.”

Gundersnap, Alicia, and Kristen were shocked beyond belief. They had never heard a royal person addressed so rudely. Poor little Myrella already had tears running down her face.

Princess Kinna leaned over and put her arm around her. “Don’t worry, little princess. She’s like that. When she saw me with my dark cinnamon skin, she said all sorts of rude things. She loves having someone to pick on. Don’t pay any attention to her.” Then in a lower voice she whispered, “She is very ordinary herself. There are rumors that she bought her title.”

“Really!” Myrella looked up with her deep-green eyes.

Princess Kinna nodded and smiled.

“Oh, dear, dear, dear!” The duchess had moved on and was making clicking sounds with her tongue. “What have we here!”

“Vee have me, Princess Gundersnap, of the Empire of Slobodkonia.”

“How oddly you speak! It is “we” with a
W
, not
V
. Your pasty complexion and those blemishes are bad enough without that accent. We must send you to the speech counselor.”

Alicia and Kristen exchanged looks. How would they ever survive this class? If only it would stop raining, they might get to do something fun outdoors.

But the makeup class went on and on and on. The princesses learned how to grind rouge from rose petals and red clay and to make their eyebrows darker with charcoal and lighter with paste. They were excited to learn a remedy for pimples, but it turned out to be so dreadful that no one had the nerve to try it. It consisted of squished snails mixed with salt and applied directly to the skin. They were also given instruction in the proper placement of beauty marks.

“Not on the end of your nose, Princess Kristen!” the duchess roared. The princess simply smiled at her sweetly and said, “Look, Duchess, no hands!” She crossed her eyes and tried to take the beauty mark off with the tip of her tongue. The Duchess of Bagglesnort was not amused.

“Look!” said Princess Kinna, pointing to the window. “It’s stopped raining and it’s summer again!”

The golden leaves of autumn had once more turned the lush green of deep summer. Sunlight streamed into the room, and two butterflies with gold wings sported in spiraling flights outside a window. Carpets of wildflowers spread their gay colors across the grass.

“Swimming!” someone cried out.

The good news for Alicia was that makeup was over. The bad news was that it was time for the swim test. Some choice she had, Alicia thought—the Duchess of Bagglesnort or drowning!

As they headed back from the Salon de Beauté, which Kristen had already renamed the Snorty’s Snotty Saloon, Alicia said, “I can’t bear that woman!”

“Who, Snorty?” Kristen replied.

“
Acht
, Snorty!” Gundersnap giggled. “I like that!”

Alicia stopped on the landing and said, “I think the duchess is so mean.”

“Me too,” said Kristen. “I don’t care if I am a flame child, or whatever she called me.”

Alicia looked at her turretmates. “You both look vonderful!” she cried gleefully.

“Vonderful! Vonderful!” the three princesses yelled as they ran down the steps and across a small balcony to the winding staircase that led to their rooms.

Chapter 10

TESTING ONE, TWO, THREE—GLUB!

Inside the main salon of the South Turret, they found Lady Merry in a state of excitement.

“My water wings!” exclaimed Lady Merry as Gilly and the other maids entered with baskets of beach towels, bathing garments, and bathing tiaras.

“You shall all be taking your swim tests now. These are your bathing tunics,” Gilly said to the princesses. Each of the maids held up an official Camp Princess bathing costume. They were the oddest-looking garments the three princesses had ever seen. Made from cloth of gold, they were neither gown nor trousers.

“Why in the name of Neptune do we have to wear bathing tiaras?” Kristen asked.

“Camp rule,” Gilly replied crisply. “Rule eighteen, section six, article two, under Sports and Athletics, says, ‘All princesses must wear the regulation bathing tiaras. These are conveniently attached to a cap to protect the hair and they do have some flotation built in as well.’”

Then Gilly added, “One must always appear royal, wet or dry. No exceptions—except with Frankie, the riding counselor. You’ll meet her next session. She’s out on a pony trek with some of the Third Years.”

“Swimming should be an exception too. How are we supposed to swim with this contraption on our heads?” Kristen was absolutely fuming.

“Now, now, Kristen.” Lady Merry was shaking a finger at Kristen, who was truly a bright-red flame child at the moment. “Let’s not make a royal stink out of this. Just be the royal good sport that I know you are and show us your mettle, dear. I hear that you are perfection itself in the water—fast and powerful.”

“You can bet your water wings on that, Lady Merry!” Kristen said as she slammed the bathing tiara on her head and began to strip down right in the salon to put on her tunic. The maids turned white. Lady Merry rose out of her reinforced rocker in a near fit. Alicia and Gundersnap feared she might be having a stroke or heart attack!

“Kristen, Kristen! Not here in our salon. Please, child, into your chamber to change!”

“Oh, all right.” Kristen stomped off to her chamber with her dress half on and half off.

“Come! Come quickly, Princesses,” Lady Merry said when the three girls emerged from their chambers dressed for their swim tests. “We must be off.”

To “be off” was never a simple matter with a person of the amplitude of Lady Merry. A whiskered gentleman arrived with several young assistants. With their help, the generously proportioned lady climbed into an ornate sedan chair with curtains and a fringed canopy on top to provide shade.