Fairway or Flyaway

Part One: The Beginning

DANIELLA

 “Bring me some more cakes,” I cry at my lady-in-waiting Marissa “And make it quick!” I continue.

 Marissa curtsies, mutters “Yes, Princess Daniella.” and hurries out of the room. I smile as I sit back on my silk blankets. Being the princess royal of a very important country, the country of Breay, isn’t easy, but I somehow manage.

Sleeping in a feather bed, breakfast being served on a golden trey, having “proper princess lessons” in the morning, canceling the lessons on any whim, traveling around the village in my carriage, then eating fine four course meals with my father, King Gideon, and my mother, Queen Estelle, and, perhaps most importantly, fulfilling my duties as a beautiful princess, all of it isn’t simple.

Life is far from relaxing. I also have, following me everywhere, my lady-in-waiting and a personal guard. I sigh as Marissa returns with my cakes. Marissa runs to my bedside and tries to curtsy for me, but she trips, and as she goes down my cakes go up. They go up and up, then down and-“SPLAT”!

“GUARD!” I scream “Get her OUT! She dropped CAKES on my FACE!” The guard runs up to help me and he trips over Marissa. The guard falls, hits my side table, and my washbowl goes flying. I cover my head, ready for the crash…but it doesn’t come. I take my hands from my face just as the bowl lands, upside down on my bed. The bowl cracks in half and I feel the cold water hit me.

I take a deep breath, glare at the guard, and say “Get her out and take yourself with her!” Marissa and the guard nearly run over each other in their haste to get to the door. I sniff “Huh. Riffraff.” I wipe the cake from my face and I move to my plush and, thankfully, dry chair.

ROSETTE

 “Rosette.” A voice croons, breaking through my stupor. “Rosette Roland.” I know I need to wake up, that I will be in trouble if I don’t, but I was up all night with my mother sick in bed and my younger brothers and sister moaning for lack of food.

“Rosette Roland, you wake up this instant!”  And the words boom through my head, I shake awake and promptly fall out of my chair. I flail around for a moment, then, realizing I am at Madame LeRu’s shop, I stop. As I try to pick myself up, a kick to my lower back sends me to the floor again. I sigh, wincing as I stand up, and then I plant my feet and curtsy (graciously I’m sure) to Madame LeRu, the seamstress. She, in turn, glares at me and says “What are you doing? Sleeping when there are clothes to be made?”

I wish to reply “Well, I notice you are not sewing any clothes, ether.” But I hold my tongue, for if I say that I would be dismissed and then my older sister, Aliza, will be left working here by herself. Even though Aliza is seventeen years and I one younger, she has a fierce temper that needs constant cooling and, but for my mother and my own persistence, Aliza would surely have been dismissed by now.

A better job for Aliza would be gardening or grooming horses or…being a knight! That would suite Aliza just fine, but as a lady she cannot be a knight or do anything other than cook and clean and sew. Aliza would rather be running or riding. But if Aliza and I were both unemployed, then my mother and my brothers and sister would…they would. No, I tell myself, don’t worry. Then I jerk back to the present.

Madame LeRu is just finishing a long rant on who knows what. “If you’re sleeping again, then dismissal it will be.” And she marches off. I groan and settle myself back at the table. Aliza glances up from her sewing, gives me a sympathetic look, and then she puts her thumb on her nose and wiggles her fingers at Madame LeRu’s retreating backside, which, in our very pompous country of Breay, is a great insult. I know I should reprimand her, but I’m struggling to keep my laughter silent and the girl next to me, Leise, covers her mouth in mock outrage.

There are four of us girls who sew for Madame LeRu. There is Leise, who lives five miles away, Deena, whose mother and father perished in a flood last year, Aliza, and myself. We each know we would be paid more if the others were fired, but we each need our jobs desperately.

I would never tell if Deena should rip some fabric or if Leise should be smuggling some ribbon to sell. And Aliza I could never turn in, for anything in the world. She is my best friend and she is the only person I can talk about how worried I am about Mamma being sick or who much I wish my brothers, Kail, who is twelve, and Darin, aged four years younger, and my little, baby sister Avvi, who is just seven, had enough to fill their bellies.

I remember a conversation a few weeks ago. Kail and Darin were going to bed. That evening, Aliza was “trying” to sew and I was darning a sock. I looked up when the boys passed and said “Goodnight.”

And Kail turned around and said “’Night.” That didn’t scare me, but his’ hungry eyes did. Then he and Darin climbed into their loft.

I sat down on the hearth and when Mother entered from laying Avvi down to bed, she said “Goodness, dear! What is the matter?” For I had started to cry.

I started blubbering “Kail a-and Darin are alw-ways hungry and…and” But I could not go on, because I knew that it wasn’t just the boys going hungry, for Aliza, Mamma, Avvi, and me also had been losing food.

Then Mamma looked thoughtful and then motioned to me. I walked over and Mamma said “Fairy,” which her nickname for me if I am sad. “When you prepare the morning meal, dinner, and supper, take half my portion and give it to the little ones.”

I gasped “Mamma! You need the food as much as they do!” Then I was struck by an idea. “Let me and Aliza cut out some of our meal.”

At this Mamma said “No!” Her tone was so sharp that I jumped. “No, you and Aliza are providing the food and you need your strength.”

Aliza looked up and said “That’s right! We get little enough as it is.” Then Mamma sighed and walked to the room she and Avvi shared. She closed the door behind her.

I turned on Aliza “Why did you say that? You are so selfish!”

Aliza glared at me “Just because Mamma says we have to take food from her for the babies, doesn’t mean we will!” Then she moved to her palette in the corner of the kitchen and pulled the blanket up to her ears. For the rest of the night I thought about how thin Mamma is and how much I love her, Aliza, and the babies. They are my life.

Suddenly, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I start, then, realizing it is Deena, I whisper “Deena, you really know how to scare a person.”

Deena drops her gaze and murmurs “I was worried you had fallen asleep again.”

I laugh softly “I won’t be falling asleep anytime soon.” Deena smiles as I continue “If I was asleep, I would be having nightmares filled with her.” I jerk my head towards the front of the shop where Madame LeRu is “working”. 

Aliza, understanding the conversation, chimes in “She doesn’t pop up in my nightmares. She is in my DAYMARES!”

Deena laughs, a real laugh, which doesn’t happen often. Then, becoming adventurous, she says, in a normal voice “Leise, do remember when we worked here, before Aliza and Rosette started?”

Leise, who must have gotten the joke, giggles and says “Madame LeRu used to chain us to our tables.”

I gasp, while Aliza says, nearly shouting now, “REALLY?!?”

Leise laughs again “No, but we used to say that Madame was always one step closer to chaining us up.”

All of us are laughing now and none of us see the shadow looming above, until it shouts “DISMISSED!” And each one of us, Deena, Leise, Aliza, and myself, nearly fall out of our chairs in horror.