IrateRapScallion
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Chapter 59
🕑 Added 2019-01-20 07:07:59 +0000 UTCArlette didn’t know what to do, to say, or even to think. She was so far out of her depth that it was comical. They’d put her in a part of the palace reserved for the royal family, where no servants were allowed. This was where the princess was supposed to be recovering, safely away from any prying eyes. No servants, just the King, the Queen, and Sebastian. Apparently, three other people, the trio of generals who commanded the nation’s armed forces, knew of the princess’s death. Nobody else knew of this tragedy, and so here Arlette would stay until she could emulate Princess Rosalyn well enough that it would stay that way.
She was going to be the Princess. So much of this terrified her—the complexity of the task, the thought of interacting with the King and Queen every day... even the palace itself intimidated her. Just a few days ago she’d been sleeping on a hard bed filled with straw in a small wooden cottage. Now she laid in an impossibly soft down-filled bed, surrounded by luxurious items crafted by masters out of rare and expensive materials, in a bedroom that was larger than her entire home. Any one of the items in the room was likely valuable enough to buy the entirety of her old village at once, and yet here they were treated as if they were as common as leaves in a forest. She was afraid to touch anything lest she break it and fall into debt for the rest of her life. How was she supposed to imitate a girl who lived in a place like this and found it normal?
Yet as scared as all that made her, nothing terrified her more than the thought of what would happen if she failed. Images of unwashed Ubran monsters sweeping across the country sprang unbidden and unwanted from her imagination. She shivered.
The bed felt cold and empty. She missed sleeping with her mother. Really, she just missed her mother entirely. Arlette missed her smile, her hugs, and especially the warm feeling she got when she went to sleep in her mother’s arms that told her that everything was going to alright. That was all gone now. When would she even be able to see her mother again?
She sniffed, feeling the tears begin to well up as homesickness reared its ugly head. Quickly she crammed a soft pillow over her face and willed herself to hold it in. Big girls didn’t cry.
“Wow, this place sure is a lot to get used to,” a voice said from beside. Arlette jumped so high that she nearly fell out of the bed.
“Peko, don’t do that! I almost screamed!” Arlette hissed, furious at her friend’s ill-timed and unwarned appearance. “Where have you been this whole time? I haven’t seen you since we left the village!”
Peko stood beside the bed, still dressed in the peasant’s clothes that he always wore. He shrugged as if scaring her half-to-death wasn’t anything worth getting worked up over. “I don’t really like it here, so I haven’t shown up.”
“You left me all alone!” Arlette accused.
“Stop being so dramatic,” Peko replied. “Even if I’m not out, I’m always with you. You know that. How can I leave you when I am you?”
Arlette tucked herself up into a ball and hugged her legs to her chest. “Still...”
“I know everything’s all weird and different and it’s all kinda scary, but you’re not alone. I’m always going to be there for you as long as you need me. Okay?”
“Okay...”
“Good, now let’s get some sleep. I’m tired.” The illusory boy yawned. “It’s not fair that I can’t sleep unless you sleep. It’s like I’m your slave or something.”
Arlette closed her eyes. She must have been much more tired than she’d thought because she was out before she knew it.
* * *
“Tuck in your elbow more. Yes, that’s better. Now make sure you hold it at that angle the entire time. Now step... and step... good, just like that.”
When Arlette had agreed, albeit somewhat hesitantly, to the King’s plan, she hadn’t realized that it would mean so much... learning. She, in her foolish, childish naivete, had thought she’d need to learn how to look like the princess and sound like the princess. That was in fact a focus, but what she hadn’t expected was that she’d need to learn history, or mathematics, or etiquette, or any of the seemingly-endless subjects which Sebastian crammed into her skull every day until it felt like it would explode.
To make everything a hundred times harder, she had to do it while maintaining her illusion as the princess as much as possible. The effort exhausted her, and she couldn’t keep it up all day, but already the time she could manage the feat, and the ease by which she did it, was improving dramatically. Sebastian said that pushing her soulforce to its limits at her age would greatly increase her strength and stamina as she grew older. The teaching she got from the books about Illusion Observing from the library did wonders as well. Still, she could only hold the disguise for about a quarter of a day—a massive improvement over where she’d been a season ago when she’d first arrived, but still far from where it needed to be.
Right now, she was learning how to dance. Her teacher, like always, was Sebastian. The gorgeous bodyguard and soldier taught her nearly everything, since the other people who were aware of her existence were far too busy and important to spend more than a few moments with her. The King and Queen checked in on her when they could, but never stayed long. Sebastian said that this would change once she had her imitation closer to perfect. They had to learn to be a family in front of the servants, after all.
That was something that Sebastian stressed—while everything she was learning was important, the most important thing she needed to learn was how to act. Contrary to her belief, imitation turned out to be far more complicated than just looking and sounding like somebody. You had to copy the way they spoke, the way they moved, even the way they thought. You had to be more than just a copy of them, you had to become them. That, it seemed, was what true acting was all about. Of course, learning the mannerisms and thought patterns of somebody you’d never met was an impossible task, but luckily she had a tutor.
“Now, when dancing with a man, be sure to keep your eyes on the floor when you can,” Sebastian instructed. “Proper manners are to face your partner and look them in the eyes, but Rosalyn still had trouble bringing herself to do it. While she acted confident and outgoing in public, she was still quite shy with others in private, especially boys.”
“Okay,” Arlette said, committed another note to memory.
“Don’t lean forward so much. Balance is key.”
Arlette did as instructed.
“Excellent. Your agility is quite high, Rosalyn, I’m impressed,” Sebastian remarked. He addressed her as Rosalyn at all times, saying that she needed to learn to respond to it reflexively. “Now practice your steps and stances for the next two hours and we will be done for the day.”
“Can’t it be one hour? My feet hurt, and practicing dancing alone is boring without music,” Arlette groaned.
“Two hours. Any less and your dancing will not be a perfect reflection of Princess Rosalyn’s,” Sebastian replied with a stern shake of the head.
“Why does it have to be perfect? Can’t it just be really close? Nobody’s going to be able to tell the difference, anyway.”
“Don’t underestimate the court, Princess. People are more observant than you give them credit for. Now get to practicing, until your steps are as perfect as hers once were.”
“Aaargh!” Arlette growled, a full season of ceaseless work wearing her patience thin. Every day, nay, every hour of her waking life had been devoted to learning, preparing, or practicing. There was no joy in these activities, and she hadn’t gotten a single hour to play or relax since coming here a season ago. To make matters worse, she couldn’t even leave the secluded wing of the castle where she currently lived. She was a prisoner here, and it made her ready to explode. “Perfect, perfect, perfect! That’s all you ever say! What’s so great about being perfect anyway?!”
“Why, everything,” Sebastian replied. “Perfection is the ideal, the ultimate goal of all things. Would you scale only half of a mountain? Would you stop climbing in the middle of a ladder? Would you send a letter half-written? Of course not. Until something is perfect, there is always more that can be done.
“Imperfection is weakness. It is the domain of lesser beings. You must never allow yourself to wallow in that the murky swamp of mediocrity, Princess, for without perfection comes mistakes, and only a single mistake is all it takes to undo everything you’ve ever worked for. Always climb ever higher.”
Arlette had no idea what in the world her protector was blathering about. “My mother said that nobody’s perfect.”
“You mother is wrong, Princess.” He squatted down and looked her in the eyes. “Let me tell you a story about what happens when you are not perfect. I know you’ve always wanted to know how Princess Rosalyn died.”
“Wha-! I didn’t say that!”
“Don’t try and hide it. You’ve wanted to ask for a long time now, but you were afraid it would make me upset, weren’t you?”
Arlette hung her head. “Yeah...” she admitted.
Sebastian took a breath and his eyes refocused on something off in the distance, something that did not exist here in this room. “We were traveling to Renham, the Princess and I, to make an appearance before the soldiers there. As you know, Renham is the closest to the Ubran border and thus where much of the army is stationed, and the troops adored Princess Rosalyn even more than the general public. But the Ubrans had different plans...
“Halfway to the city, our procession was ambushed by a small army of Ubrans. How they made it past the patrols I will never know, but there they were nonetheless. Within just a moment, the guards outside the carriage were slaughtered, caught by such surprise that they barely got out a sound before they died beneath fire and arrows. I pulled out my sword to defend the Princess immediately, of course, just as an explosion slammed into the side of the carriage and shattered it, apart. I shielded my charge from the debris with my body and we tumbled to the side of the road, covered in wreckage. When I stood up, I found that of the Ofrax only the Princess and myself remained, and around us stood forty-three Ubran warriors.
“Forty-three?!” Arlette repeated, aghast. “But the Princess would be able to stop them, right?”
“Princess Rosalyn’s ability was extraordinary, that is true, but there was one weakness: it took a lot of time to start up, time that we did not have. It would be up to me to stand between her and the Ubran mongrels.”
“How did you survive?”
“I was given this position for a reason, Princess. Do not doubt my prowess, for I slew all forty-three Ubrans single-handedly. Filled with rage and desperation, I weaved untouched between their blades, slicing throats and stabbing hearts. They were strong, but I am stronger, and one by one they fell before me until there were none left. But it was not enough, you see, because I had not been perfect.
“Of the forty-three Ubrans who attacked us, eighteen I stabbed in the chest. Seventeen of them died instantly, my blade stopping their heart. But, alas, on one I missed. It was just a little tiny bit, perhaps the width of a finger at most, but it was enough. Like the others, he collapsed on the ground, but he did not die immediately. Instead, as I fought on, he managed to summon one last ounce of strength and throw a small metal needle at Princess Rosalyn and scratch her. With that, her fate was sealed.”
“From a scratch?”
“The needle was covered in a poison known as trascalan, a poison used widely by assassins across the continent. While it cannot be absorbed through the skin, it can enter the body through a cut or an opening like the mouth, and once it does, the person dies. Even the smallest amount is fatal. By scratching the Princess’s leg, the trascalan poison entered her blood and there was nothing anybody could do.
“I knew something was wrong just a little after the battle was over when she began to cough. Then the coughing grew harder and she began to wheeze as if she couldn’t breathe. I will never forget the sight of her as her face turned blue just before she collapsed. After all I had done to save her, all of it was for naught simply because I was not perfect. If I had simply stabbed that man in the heart as I’d intended, the Princess would still be alive today, but she is not and I will carry that failure with me until I die.”
Arlette didn’t know what to say. Just hearing the story filled her with emotions; she couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to actually experience it in person.
Sebastian reached out and ruffled her hair slightly, a sad smile on his face. “Do you understand now why it’s important to always strive for perfection?”
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, be certain. The country is relying on you, so it’s important that you give your absolute best possible effort. Right?”
“Right!” Arlette responded, a reborn commitment burning in her eyes.
“Good! Then let’s not waste time. Two hours, starting now!”
Arlette began to work through her dance forms slowly and carefully, making sure that each and every movement and posture was as flawless and perfect as she could make it as Sebastian stood back and watched. She wasn’t going to let her country and her mother down, and if that meant that she had to be perfect, then perfect she would be.
* * *
This was it, the first big test. Just around the corner were the King and Queen, waiting for her to show herself as Princess Rosalyn. Arlette’s nerves were nearly fried from the pressure. What if it all didn’t work out? What if they didn’t find her convincing? Sebastian said that they were all running out of time and that their excuses for why nobody had seen the Princess in well over a season would fall apart soon.
“It’s time, child,” the King called. “Please show us the results of your hard work.”
Taking a deep breath, Arlette stepped forward and proceeded around the bend. Her footsteps were light and graceful, rather than the crude, flatfooted walk she’d used before. Her back was straight and her head was held high, quite unlike the child of Nordhom who’d constantly slouched and kept her eyes to the ground. She sported a different face now, one created based on paintings, Many broadcasts she’d seen, and Sebastian’s descriptions and honed over hundreds of hours in front of the first real mirror she’d ever seen. Her eyes shined with intelligence and her cheeks glowed with happiness. Dressed in an elegant child’s gown made from the finest silks she’d ever felt, she stepped forward. She was not Arlette anymore, she told herself. She was Princess Rosalyn, the shining idol of the country.
“Greetings, mother! Greetings, father!” she said, her voice sounding like another’s, one with a joyous, musical tone like the ringing of chimes. She smiled a glowing smile bright enough to outshine the sun itself. “It is so wonderful to see you again!”
She looked up at the King and Queen, looking for a sign of validation, but found none. They simply stared back at her, their faces unreadable to her. It was as if they were both frozen in time to the point where they were not even breathing. Then the spell broke as the Queen went weak at the knees, fell to the ground, and began to wail.
Arlette froze. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. Had she done a poor job after all?
The King bent down and embraced his wife, glancing back at Arlette with eyes that held no happiness in them. No, she saw only a hint of accusation in his glare.
That look told Arlette all she needed to know, and she felt absolutely mortified. She’d failed. All that effort, all that time, for nothing. She’d let her country down. She’d let her mother down. Unable to bear the weight of the moment, Arlette did what any child would do: she ran away.
Given the lack of rooms in her wing of the palace, the bedroom was only one place she could go without passing by the King and Queen, and so there she ended up, huddling against the wall beside the door and trying not to cry too loudly. Outside, she could hear the voices of the three as they began to argue; though she couldn’t make out the words, the tones of their voices said enough.
The Queen was the most adamant, her voice loud and harsh. The King, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to calm the Queen down, his voice pleading. Last, there was Sebastian, his voice level and full of conviction. Was he making the case for more time? Perhaps he made his case well, because soon it seemed that the argument turned to the two men against the Queen.
Eventually, the argument came to a halt and the place grew quiet. Beside her, the door slowly opened and in stepped Sebastian. Arlette gazed up at his smiling face through tear-blurred vision, confused.
“Don’t feel sad, you fared splendidly,” her teacher and bodyguard said. “A rousing success.”
“But they hated it,” Arlette replied.
“Exactly.” He squatted down beside her and wiped her face with a silk handkerchief from the breast pocket of his knight uniform. “They knew what was coming and they steeled their hearts against it, but you were so convincing that you shattered them. It was as if their child had come back from the dead, and even though they’d thought they were as ready as they could possibly be, they still couldn’t handle it. You passed the test with flying colors.”
“Really?” she sniffed.
“Yes. Don’t worry about their reactions. His Majesty agrees that you are ready for the next step. And look, you even kept your illusion even while upset. Wonderful!”
Arlette looked up and saw her reflection in the mirror across the room. Staring back from the mirror, eyes red and puffy and cheeks glistening with tears, was not her but the Princess. It had become so normal now that Arlette hadn’t even realized she was still maintaining the disguise.
“I wanted to tell you that I’m very proud of you. You have worked so hard and so long, and as your partner in this endeavor I want you to know that I am delighted that you are here with me.”
“T-thanks...” Arlette offered a hesitant smile.
“That’s better.” He affectionately patted her on the head. “Now, Princess Rosalyn’s birthday would have been just a few days ago, which means that you are seven years old now as well, yes? What do you say we celebrate your birthday and this success with a little feast?”
Now that really got Arlette’s spirits up.
* * *
Arlette smiled broadly and waved at the massive crowd lining the avenue, trying her best not to cringe at the sheer volume of the cheers as they beat against her eardrums. So many people from all about Brenridge were here just to see her. Thousands of men, women, and children had taken time out of their days for no other reason than to cheer her on as she passed by. It was an experience unlike anything she’d ever felt before, her spirit soaring triumphantly above the clouds. It was working. The masses were buying it, nay, downright eating it up.
At first, she’d dreaded the upcoming parade designed to demonstrate her good health and wellbeing. She’d fallen into the same questions and doubts that had plagued her before the first demonstration with the King and Queen a dozen days ago. What if they could tell she was a fake? What if something happened that she wasn’t ready for?
Those concerns turned out to be unfounded. As she rode down the avenue from the palace towards the city wall, sitting confidently atop her personal vekkel while wearing a resplendent outfit of furs and silks befit for royalty, Arlette appeared every bit the part of the seven-year-old princess and nobody was the wiser. She soaked in the looks of adoration from the citizens as her procession slowly made its way further from the castle. Even the prospective knights of the knight school were lined up waiting for her to pass, their faces lit with excitement and their bodies snapping the Ofrax army’s traditional one-handed salute. Arlette returned the salute, the proper form drilled into her many days ago.
One of the servants trailing her ran up beside her and handed her a large, loose handful of long-stemmed flowers. Arlette took a quick sniff, enjoying the pleasant aroma of the multicolored bouquet before tossing the flowers into the crowd. The scattering flowers rained down atop the adoring citizens, causing a series of scuffles as hundreds of people scrambled to get their hands on a flower that had been touched by their beloved princess.
In a world where illusion Observers existed, it was vital to show that she was more than just a conjured image masquerading as a real person. That was why she was throwing out flowers to the masses throughout the parade. By handling solid objects, she was proving without a doubt that she was the one and only Princess Rosalyn, who had fallen gravely ill and needed several seasons alone to recover. Illnesses were a rarity in Scyria, but when they hit, they were very dangerous and potentially deadly. It was the best excuse they had to explain why the princess had disappeared for so long.
Suddenly, Sebastian slid in front of her, blocking her view of the right side of the street with his armored back. He smoothly reached out into the air with both hands and grabbed something. It wasn’t until they were already within his grasp that Arlette could see what they were: arrows!
Arlette was too stunned to even react. Instead, she just watched as Sebastian stood in front of her and proceeded to pluck more arrows from the air by their shafts as if they were moving in slow motion. Every movement was deliberate and efficient, with absolutely zero wasted motion, as if he knew where the arrows were headed before they even got there. Arlette couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Was this the power of a knight? Or was Sebastian even greater? After witnessing the ease at which he protected her, she now understood why somebody who was supposedly a fighter didn’t seem to have any scars like the other knights... he was just that good.
Soldiers surged into the crowd as the citizens scattered in panic. Meanwhile, Sebastian hopped onto Arlette’s vekkel, landing just behind her on the saddle, and steered it about, sending them hurtling back towards the palace as fast as the large lizard could manage. Within a moment, they were hundreds of paces from the scene of the attack.
And so ended the Princess’s first public appearance since her illness. While the public thought it ended in disaster, for the plan it was nothing less than an unqualified success.
* * *
Arlette counted to a thousand before she dared to move. By now, the guards outside her door would assume her to be asleep. Slowly and quietly, she crept out of bed, a smile on her face. It was time for her favorite part of the day.
Crouching down beside the wall near the far corner, Arlette pushed and a small portion slowly pushed in, revealing a secret passage inside the wall. She’d discovered the entrance by accident, having one day sat down against that spot on the wall and leaned back against it just enough to move it slightly. The passage was constricting enough that a full-grown man would be forced to crawl on his hands and knees, but somebody her size could move about far more easily. She crawled inside, an impish grin on her face.
It wasn’t until she’d fully “become” the princess, able to leave the secluded wing where she’d trained so hard, that Arlette had realized just how terrible being a princess could be. She’d thought that, having completed the initial training, she’d be more free to have fun, but no. It seemed that a princess’s life was managed down to the moment. There were people who she had to greet as a member of the royal family, there were all the times when she had to spend time with the King and Queen in front of servants in order to maintain the illusion that they were still a whole and happy family, and then there were, of course, lessons. Not only did she have more lessons with Sebastian to fully master her new role as Princess Rosalyn, but she also had to take all the lessons that the real Princess Rosalyn would have had to take were she still alive.
The end result of this was that Arlette had absolutely no spare time for herself, no freedom whatsoever. Sebastian was with her every waking moment, not only protecting her from threats but also making sure, like a nanny, that she didn’t misbehave. The only time she could be alone was when she was going to sleep. She hated it.
The real princess had apparently felt the same way. On the inside wall of the tunnel, scratched into the stone in the messy, amateurish letters of a child, was just the words “Rosalyn was here”. While Arlette had spent day after day, hour after hour, slowly learning everything about the real Rosalyn Kallenvale, nothing had made her feel as connected with that girl as this. Arlette was sure now that they would have been great friends.
The passageway was just a part of a much larger network, one that, as far as she knew, nobody else seemed to know existed. It forked its way all about the palace, so much so that Arlette had still didn’t know where everything went even after exploring it for several hours every night for the last eleven nights. Tonight, the twelfth night, she would continue in her effort to map out the entire tunnel maze.
There wasn’t much the tunnels allowed her to actually do other than move about the palace. Several times she’d risked being spotted and snuck into the kitchen pantry and stolen a snack or two, but that was about it. Arlette didn’t mind too much. What this secret provided her was freedom, and that was enough for now. When she was in the tunnels she could relax. Here there were no expectations, and she could just be the child she wished she could be.
Half an hour of crawling later, using just a tiny Observed flame to light the way, Arlette came upon another entrance. Ever so slowly, she began to push it out, a fraction of a finger’s width at a time. She’d discovered fairly early that once the stone was moved a little and a minuscule gap was opened, it became possible to hear conversations going on inside the room. This had proved invaluable in preventing her from accidentally emerging into a room with people inside, something that would have happened otherwise multiple times already. As she did so this time, her ears picked up the sound to two people who she knew very well and decided to listen in.
“-think you’re not helping,” a male voice said.
“You said this was going to be a short-term solution,” a female hissed back. “Just until we found something stronger to hold off the Ubrans. You didn’t say this would be for the rest of our lives!”
“I can’t help it that nothing else is getting results, Terassi! Until we have something better, we have no choice but to keep this up. We should feel lucky that the plan worked at all! They’ve tried to kill her three times, so we know the Ubrans think Rosalyn’s still alive.”
“What I know, Ramad, is that every time I have to look at my child’s smile and know that it’s not real, that it’s not her but that... thing, I die a little more inside. I can’t keep doing this. I won’t.”
“Stop it.”
“She’s unnatural! You know it’s true, you just don’t want to admit it. There is no way that anybody should be able to do what she does. Did you know I ordered our best illusion Observer, one of the best on the continent mind you, to attempt to do what she does? After half a full season of practice, he couldn’t keep it up for more than a quarter of an hour and it required his full concentration! Tell me, how some seven-year-old child can keep that up as easy as breathing nonstop for an entire day? She shouldn’t even have half of her full-grown soulforce yet! She’s wrong, Ramad, and you know it as well as I!”
“Couldn’t you say the same things about our daughter?”
“Don’t you compare that creature to Rosalyn!” the Queen hollered. “They are not alike!”
“Look, what she is doesn’t matter. What matters is that without her the Ubrans would likely already be pouring into our lands. You should be as thankful as the rest of us that we have her at all.”
“I should be thankful?” the Queen laughed. “Like you? What’s her name?”
A silence filled the room, one that became ever more painful for Arlette with each passing moment.
“Her name is Rosalyn now,” the King replied eventually. “That’s what matters.”
“How dare you give her that name!”
Arlette couldn’t stand to hear any more. Pulling the stone back in place, she retreated quickly to her room, curled up into a ball beside her bed, and cried.
* * *
A knock came at the door, but Arlette didn’t say anything.
“Princess, you are late for breakfast,” she heard Sebastian call from the other side of the door, but still she didn’t feel like answering. She didn’t feel like much of anything at the moment. He called out to her again, knocking harder.
“I’m coming in,” he announced after several moments of silence.
Arlette heard the sound of a key unlocking the door. It opened slightly and Sebastian stuck his head in. Immediately he noticed that she was not in her bed and scanned the room, finding her huddled up by the side of the bed where she’d sat since the night before. His eyes opened in shock and he quickly slipped into the room and shut and locked the door behind him.
“You’re not in your disguise,” he observed with concern. “You’re not even dressed. Princess, you’re supposed to be having breakfast with your parents at this very moment.”
“I don’t want to go,” Arlette replied glumly.
“But you must.”
“I don’t want to.”
Sebastian crouched down beside her, a look of concern on his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I don’t want to be here anymore. The Queen hates me and the King doesn’t even know my name. I don’t have any friends and I’m all alone. I miss my mommy and I want to go home.”
“Now how would you know something like that?” Sebastian wondered.
“I just do, okay? Leave me alone.”
“You know I can’t do that. And besides, you’re wrong.”
“No I’m not.”
“Well, I can’t speak to everything you said,” Sebastian mused, “but I know you’re wrong about not having any friends. Or am I not your friend?” He smiled warmly and patted her on the head in that way he always did. Strangely, she’d come around to enjoying it.
“What’s my name?” Arlette asked.
“You’re Arlette Faredin of the village of Nordhom, of course, and my friend. Come here...” He pulled her to her feet and gave her a big, almost brotherly hug. “I don’t want you to ever think that you’re alone here. No matter what, you can count on me being by your side, alright?”
He was right, she realized. He’d always been there, supporting her, teaching her, helping her. She’d had a friend this whole time and just never realized it. After a moment, Arlette found herself returning the embrace.
“I think I have an idea for a way to fix your problem with the Queen,” Sebastian said after a moment.
“Really?”
“Queen Terassi is a woman of high society. She grew up in a noble household and she respects the opinions of others like her. Your birthday is in the next season. You should have a giant birthday party to celebrate your eighth birthday and invite all the important people from around Ofrax to come. The generals, the ministers, the wealthiest merchants, everybody who matters in this country. Then when the Queen sees how much everybody loves you, she’ll realize how wrong she is and then she won’t hate you anymore.”
“Really? You think that will work?” Arlette asked, a seed of hope germinating inside of her.
“Absolutely. I’ve known her for years, I guarantee it will work.”
“But what if they don’t want to come? Would Father even be alright with inviting so many people?”
“Nobody would even dream about missing Princess Rosalyn’s birthday,” he assured her. “Don’t worry about such things. As for His Majesty, don't worry about that. I can make the case to him that it will help further the plan. Just leave it to me.”
She smiled for the first time since the night before, a weak, unsteady smile but a smile nonetheless. “Alright. Let’s do that.”
* * *
“Is something wrong?” Sebastian asked as Arlette fretted about. They were in her bedroom once again as she prepared for her appearance at her birthday party. All the invitees had already arrived and were waiting in one of the larger reception halls along with the King and Queen. Arlette, on the other hand, had yet to make an appearance. Tradition called for her to arrive last.
“I can’t find my ring! I haven’t seen it all day!” Arlette cried, near tears with worry. Princess Rosalyn usually wore a special royal ring with several beautiful gemstones embedded in it. While not wearing the ring would normally be very bad, in this case it would be downright disastrous. Once she made her appearance before at the party, it was customary for every invitee to be introduced to her and for them to kiss the ring. If she didn’t have the ring, then...
“Oh, right! This?” Sebastian pulled out a ring from his pocket. The gemstones glistened brightly, almost as bright as her eyes when she recognized it. “I found it on the floor outside last night and polished it up for you. Almost forgot about it, sorry.”
“Thank you!” she breathed with relief as she put the ring onto her finger. “You saved me!”
“Glad I could help. Anything else you need to do before you make your appearance?”
“No, I’m ready.”
“Well then, after you, Princess.”
Arlette strode out of her room down the hallway. As she made her way towards the reception hall, she passed a number of servants, all of whom bowed to her and greeted her happily. Normally she would have paid them more attention, but today she was in a hurry. Soon enough she stood before a set of large, closed double doors. She took a deep breath. Just on the other side of those doors stood every single person who made the Kingdom or Ofrax tick, and they were all there to see her.
“Are you ready?” Sebastian asked.
“...I am,” she replied after a moment.
Without another word, he opened the doors and she entered. Suddenly dozens of eyes turned on her and she forced herself to give her best smile.
“Presenting Princess Rosalyn Kallenvale!” the palace crier loudly announced.
Arlette gracefully curtsied towards the gathered crowd and they all politely but loudly clapped their approval. She turned toward the King and Queen and bowed. “Mother, Father, I thank you on this day for bringing me into this world, nurturing me through the years, and loving me with all your heart,” she intoned. “I humbly ask for your blessing for the following year as well.”
“You may have every blessing that we can give and more,” the King replied. “Now let the introductions begin.”
Everybody except her “parents” lined up single file before her.
“Countess Lendana Estburry!” the cried called, less forcefully than before but still louder than Arlette though necessary.
The older woman bowed to her. “It is a joy to see you again, Princess,” she said. “I am honored that you saw fit to invite me to this celebration.”
“You are too kind,” Arlette replied as she raised up her hand and the woman kissed her ring. “Please enjoy the party.”
“Of course!” the woman replied before stepping aside for the next person.
“General Wallen Reddinton!” the crier hollered.
“Princess, I hope that this year goes as well for you as your last,” the man said, a twinkle of humor in his eyes.
“Why thank you, General,” Arlette replied, trying not to react to his inside joke. General Reddinton was one of the three highest military officers in the country, and all three of them were aware of her true nature. In fact, she realized absentmindedly, every person who was aware that she was fraud—Sebastian, the King and Queen, and the top generals—stood in this very room.
The procession of guests continued for several more minutes until finally they had each given her their personal greeting, whereupon the gathering became slightly less formal. Guests mingled about the room, chatting with one another about various things, while various invitees surrounded her to talk to her about various things or perhaps curry favor with her.
“I must say,” Countess Estburry said to her, “it truly is wonderful to see you grow up to be such a delightful and strong young woman. Why I remember when you were born! You were so tiny, even for a baby, but now you’re a wonderful young lady. It really warms this old woman’s spirit to know that Ofrax will be in good hands after I’m gone.”
“Thank you, Countess,” Arlette replied with a cheery smile. That smile was getting harder and harder as time went on.
“If you ever have the chance, you should come south to Ariwood,” the woman continued. “We have some of the best riding lands in the kingdom, and I’m sure you’d have a great time-”
The woman’s blathering was interrupted by a heavy cough. Then another. Then another still.
“Countess Estburry, are you alright?” Arlette asked, her concern growing as the old woman’s coughing increased in intensity.
Arlette looked about for somebody to help as another person across the room began to cough, then a third and a fourth.
“Something is wrong with the Countess!” Arlette called out, but already her voice was hard to hear over the noise as more and more people around her began to cough loudly. The Countess was beyond coughing now, her breaths coming in wheezing gasps as she sank weakly to the floor.
Arlette didn’t know what to do as terror began to grow in the back of her mind. What was wrong with everybody? She bent down to the old Countess, her hands starting to shake with panic, and paled. The woman’s face was taking on a shade of blue.
Suddenly something inside her mind clicked and she recalled something Sebastian had told her a long time ago. First they begin to cough, then they start to wheeze, then their face turns blue... poison!
“Sebastian!” she cried, turning towards the King and Queen. “Everybody’s been poi-”
The words caught in her throat and her mind went blank from what she saw. This was a dream, she told herself. A nightmare. That was the only thing that made sense. Yes, that was the only to explain why Sebastian stood there as if nothing was wrong, a calm smile on his face and his sword protruding from the King’s chest.
