Authors: V. Ashenden

A Tale of Two Princesses (8 page)

"And if I chose no one?"

"I have never yet heard of a queen unwed."

"There's no law that says I have to marry."

"No, but a queen without an heir is a dying kingdom, and a ripe target for an angry king."

"And what if I offended the prince so he was not to propose?"

"It would buy you time, but it would still invite tension with Cross, and your mother would search for another man to take your hand."

"And if my mother was not alive to pick for me?"

"Do not speak such things, your highness."

Celeste sighed. "I didn't mean that, Homa. Of course not."

"I know, your highness."

She took a breath. "Long live the queen."

Chapter Five

The Mute Maiden

"What do you say to this place here, Wellington?" Court said.

"Sir, tell me you are in jest," Wellington said as he looked at the tavern. It was built of wood, with patches of lumber to fix the broken siding. A sign identified it as
The Drunken Donkey Inn and Tavern.
And underneath that,
Discount Manure for Sale
. "It's a dump!"

"Nonsense! It's a hole in the wall. There's a difference. Still, there ought to be enough room for all of us."

"Oh, sir, the king would be disheartened to learn his son is occupying such a filthy place."

"Do tell me, Wellington," Court said. "How is this so much worse than camping on the road, hmm?"

"Camping on the road is a necessity. Staying here is not. Pray let us go to the castle and be welcomed!"

"No, no, no! If I must meet this girl and, ugh, wed her, at least allow me to do it in my own timing. I will stay here and court her as a proper man should court any woman. If I find her adequate, perhaps I will propose. For now, this will do. Come, the decision's been made!"

Court kneaded his horse, riding him up to the tavern. He and his men dismounted and headed inside. It was nearly empty, just a few patrons at the bar, the first an old man, the second a man with black teeth, and the third a slumped over baker. A chubby, thick man stood behind the bar, as well as a middle-aged woman, both dumbstruck as Court and his knights filled the small tavern.

"Uh, welcome."

"Hello, good sir," Court said. "I am Prince Court Cross from the Cross Kingdom over yonder."

"Oh, bless me! I, I'm Banyan. This is Mrs. Crockery."

Banyan bowed at the waist. Mrs. Crockery was right behind him.

"Oh! What chance has struck us!" she said. "We are honored to be graced by your presence, your highness."

"Two royals in less than a week," Banyan said. "Interesting times."

"Two royals, did you say?" Court said.

"Aye, sir," Banyan said, keeping his head down. "Princess Celeste came through herself not two days ago."

"The princess!" Court said, looking at their downcast heads. "Oh, please, raise your heads. You do me too much honor. After all, I am not the prince of your kingdom, not yet, anyway. Do tell me, what was the princess doing here?"

"Having a drink, near as I can say," Banyan said, standing up straight.

"Indeed?" Court said with a laugh. "I think I rather like that. Wellington, did you hear? The princess was drinking in a common tavern!"

"I did, sir, and I am in shock!"

"Wellington, I am positively encouraged!" he said, looking back at Banyan. "Now, my good sir, your references are impeccable after such a story and I am in need of lodging."

"Lodging?" Mrs. Crockery spoke up. "Are you looking for directions to the castle?"

"No, madam. Right here, this establishment will do just as well as any castle. Do you have rooms for me, my valet, and ten honorable knights?"

"We have but eight rooms," Banyan said. "Aye, and one is occupied by this baker, wife what threw him out, but he'll be back home by tomorrow."

"Caught me with the flour girl again!" the baker volunteered.

"Right," Court said. "Well, as I see it, perhaps we only need seven rooms anyway. Men, you don't mind sharing a room each, do you?"

"No, sir!" they shouted in unison; the cheer was so loud it startled everyone in the room.

"There it is," Court said. "So, what say you? Will you have us for the night and the coming days?"

Mrs. Crockery and Banyan exchanged looks. "The fee, your highness," Banyan said, "may be a bit...steep for your party."

"Come now, I'm a prince. Whatever it is, Wellington will pay. You'll also see to our horses, won't you? Now, if you would please, I have had a long journey and I could do with a proper rest."

"Abigail, show his highness to our finest room, number one."

"Yes, of course," Mrs. Crockery said. She took Court upstairs, opening room number one. "Here it is, sir."

"Thank you, madam," Court said with a smile. "I am so looking forward to breakfast."

"We shall make it special then, your highness."

"Goodnight," Court said, passing into the room. He sat down heavily on the bed, sighing. It had been a long ride. But no sooner had he taken off his boots that Wellington began knocking. He knew it was Wellington because Wellington always knocked until he got his answer. "Yes, yes, Wellington! Stop rapping on the door! You'd think there's a fire!"

Wellington came in. "Sir, I believe we are victims of price gouging, highway robbery, an arm and a leg!"

"What are you on about?"

"The owner of this property is charging us an outrageous sum of two hundred silver pieces per room! These rooms are not worth fifty!"

"Wellington?"

"Yes, your highness?"

"I'm exhausted. I am about to marry and so inherit all that I have surveyed. Do you think I care if a few pieces of silver are spent at a tavern? Let me sleep."

"Very well, your highness. I will have two men standing guard outside at all times."

"Do that, Wellington."

* * *

Sienna woke up to the sun coming in through her window. She yawned a nice long yawn, stretching out her arms and legs, not bumping into a stall, not picking straw out of her hair, no smell of horses in her nose. This was paradise, serving here in the castle. Oh, how she wished it could go on forever.

She climbed up, leaning against her window sill, taking in a deep breath, the salty sea air filling her lungs. She looked out over that dark blue horizon, the sky brightening with each passing minute. How content would she be to live here for the rest of her life, never to be beaten or cursed at or sold for a night of pleasure? But then she was forgetting. It was her last day today. At the end of the night...it was over. Would they let her sleep here and return home in the morning, or would they send her off straight away?

"You're awake?" Kathree said, opening her door. "Well, come on then."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Shush!" Kathree said. "How many times must I remind you of what the princess said? You are mute! You will only nod. Do you understand?

Sienna nodded.

"Good. Get on down to the kitchen then. Bring up the firewood. Juice the oranges."

Sienna dressed as quickly as she could in her uniform, scurrying down to the kitchens, bringing up the wood, lighting the fires. Betilly made her breakfast, as always, and she ate it as she worked, juicing with one hand. Then she was set to the task of washing the dishes from last night's dinner service.

Soon, the servers came to take food to everyone in the castle. The servers were mostly young boys, all hurriedly coming and going. She stole peeks at them as she washed. She was not used to seeing boys her own age, as so many who visited the tavern were older men, travelers mostly. Homa came down to say hello and collect the princess' breakfast, and Sienna returned a polite smile and a nod, pretending to be as mute as ever. She averted her eyes when Vrine came, after serving her with a bow of the head, that is.

"Still have that wretch working in here, I see," she said.

"Only for the day, Madam Vrine," Betilly said. "Truly, I'll miss her, such a help, and being mute, she never, ever complains."

"Hmm, mute servants," Vrine said. "What a perfect idea."

The dishes kept coming, returned from morning service. Sienna washed them all. She didn't even have to eat the scraps. It was all in the trash. Her uncle would have been horrified.

Afterward, they were set on the task of lunch. Betilly had taught Sienna how to chop onions, carrots, tomatoes and a few other things properly. She enjoyed chopping. There was something so simple but so complicated about it, how each piece had to match the size of the last.

"Well, at least you can dice now," Kathree had said. "Take that home to your uncle, give him something to be proud of then."

After lunch, they set out on preparing midday tea, which was the slowest time of the day for Sienna. They even let her take a break! A break! And no one yelled at her! She went down the stairs to the storage pantry and out to the castle road, sitting on the stone wall, her feet dangling off it as she looked straight out. She could see the countryside stretching far beyond. The town was in eyesight, the rooftops all brown and red in color. Her uncle's tavern was farther on to the north, though she could not see it. To the east was a range of mountains that defined the kingdom's boundary. To the west was the forest, the Tempest Forest. It looked black even from so far away, the sky dark above. Soon, Sienna returned to the kitchens, taking her lunch, courtesy of Betilly.

"Dear, you don't need to lick the plate clean," Betilly said. "Plenty more where that came from."

"Teaching that child manners is an uphill battle," Kathree muttered.

Now, the real work was to begin. Tonight was the ball, and everyone was buzzing about it. The kitchen had to provide hundreds of hors d'oeuvres, a word Sienna had never heard before, but she understood it to be snacks for the guests.

"Try this one, dear," Betilly said, handing her a toothpick with some kind of meat wrapped in bacon.

"Oh! Mmm!" Sienna said, chewing.

"Good?"

Sienna nodded, giving two thumbs up.

Betilly chuckled. "You're my favorite critic. Another?"

"Mmm-hmm!"

* * *

"A masquerade ball, really," Court said. "Is it straight yet, Wellington?"

"Must you keep moving, sir?" Wellington said as he straightened Court's tie, brushing off his black and silver jacket.

"What's the purpose of it all, really?"

"I believe, sir," Wellington said, tugging on Court's pants so they were perfectly straight, "the queen wishes you to have an audience with her daughter behind a mask."

"I knew it. She's hideous. Golden hair, troll face."

"No, sir. I think, perhaps, the girl is nervous. She, after all, probably has no more experience with men than you do with women."

"I have experience!"

"Sir, peeping upon the river while a group of women are bathing is not experience. It's just peeping."

"That was a dare, Wellington, and I'll thank you not to speak of it again!"

"Quite so, sir, but truly, I think it's a magnificent idea. It'll give you both a chance to speak to each other while hiding the emotion so often given away by one's face. Brilliant on the queen's part. She is as cunning as they say."

"They also say she murdered her husband."

"Sir! Please, with all respect, speaking such a thing would put our countries at war!"

"Oh, Wellington, I wasn't going to say it to her face. I was only saying that's what they say."

"Whether true or false, it is no concern."

"What if her daughter follows in her mother's footsteps?" Court said with a gulp.

"Well, then, I think you'd best keep your hands off any maidens in the castle."

"Easy enough. I hear they're all old women."

"Also true, sir," Wellington said. Then he pulled down Court's silver mask, which covered his entire face, the plaster image looking nothing like him. There were only three holes, two for his eyes, and a small slit to let his voice escape. "Sir, you are ready."

"Wellington?" he said from behind the mask.

"Yes, your highness?"

"Just a thought, but shouldn't we wait to put on the mask until I'm at the ball, what with the travel time and horseback riding and all that?"

"Ah. A prudent note, sir." Wellington lifted it. His prince was glaring. "Oh, your highness, it works quite well! I could not even tell you were annoyed with me until I saw your face."

"Do fetch my horse, Wellington."

* * *

"You are the vision of beauty, princess!" Homa said, straightening the diamond tiara on Celeste's golden head. Her hair was down, falling over her shoulders and spreading out, contrasting against her white dress with golden trim. Celeste pulled a gold mask down over her face.

"I hate Masquerade balls."

"The queen only wants to give you a chance to meet your prince's spirit, rather than his dashing looks."

"So they say." She pulled the mask off, dropping it before she jumped on her bed, rolling onto her back. "I feel like a fool!"

"Why, mistress?"

"It's this dress! I don't like white, and I don't like how it feels!"

"But your mother had it specially designed for this occasion."

"I hate it!"

"It's only one night. It would break the queen's heart if you were to change."

"It's too small on me."

"It highlights your wonderful features."

Celeste sighed as she looked up. "I've lost the fight, haven't I, Homa?"

"Your highness?"