Stolen Princess

1. A Haircut

"Your hairs on fire!" Isobel screeched, even as the smell hit my senses, waking me from a deep sleep.

"What?" I dashed to the mirror that hung on the far side of my bedroom.

Isolde and Isleen erupted in shrieks of laughter as I stared at the smoking mass that was quickly burning up my back.

"What have you done?" I groaned in agony, but in the next moment, cold water crashed over me as Isobel dumped yesterday's washbasin's remains onto the tiny flames.

With a gentle hiss, the fire seemed to sputter out, leaving the unmistakable odor of burnt hair in the air. I stared at the burned mass of blonde curls and felt the blood leave my face.

"She's going to kill me for this!" I seethed, turning on my younger sisters where they sat on my bed, the criminal candle still in Isolde's grasp as they giggled.

"It's just a bit of fun!" Isleen chimed in an obnoxious voice that came mostly out of her nose.

"A bit of fun?" I moaned, turning back to the mirror as they erupted into a fit of laughter.

"The tournament is in two days!" Isobel cried, indignant on my behalf as she turned on our sisters as well.

"Well, it's not that bad!" Isolde drolled with a roll of her eyes. But sensing her joke wasn't going to be any better received by Isobel, she hopped off the bed and danced her way across the bedroom to the door.

"How could you?" I whispered, my entire focus stuck on what looked like sun-dried straw curled up around my ears on one side of my head.

"I told you not to borrow those shoes," Isleen hissed, her eyes narrowed in a moment of true malice just before her porcelain face smoothed over once more into a teasing smile, "Besides, this tournament should've been mine - and you know it. Serves you right."

And with that, she slammed the wooden door to my chamber closed, the sound of the metal latch ringing in the stillness for several moments afterward.

"She didn't mean that," Isobel tsked from beside me, we both stood frozen for a moment longer, I didn't even have the energy to argue with her.

"I never wanted to be the prize pig in all of this anyway!" I yelled half-heartedly towards the closed door.

Tears pricked at my eyes as I turned back to the mirror, pushing aside my sisters' cruelty as best I could. There was nothing I could do to fight them. No one to tell. I was the half-breed.... The one no one wanted around... and it was a miracle they hadn't set my bed on fire in my sleep instead of just my hair.

"We'll need to fix this..." Isobel muttered, tentatively reaching out to touch the singed hair only to have a great chunk fall off into her hand.

"Oh no!" I cried throwing my face into my hands. "Just when I thought this couldn't get any worse! Father is going to be so embarrassed by me and your mother is going to kill me!"

"No need for the dramatics, I'm sure." Isobel demured as she shuffled through one of the vanity drawers in search of something. "It's twice as likely Father won't notice, and my mother might've told them to commit such an act on her behalf, to begin with."

"Thanks," I moaned, grinding the heels of my palms against my eyes in an effort not to cry any harder. I hated crying. It never helped a single thing, and seemed to have the same effect on my family as the smell of blood to a pack of wolves.

"Come on now... I'm sure we'll have some time to fix it before Services," Isobel was pressing on. The oldest of the King's daughters, she was also the sweetest and the kindest.