Parchment and Palisades

Blades Beneath Petticoats

Crown Princess Kaitlyn of Sanguisia was pouting in her carriage to Filtland. Her poison had been a failure, only serving to make her father ill.

She looked at the trunk sitting beside her. Mostly full of dresses: three outfits for her one day at the meeting. But she had placed knives carefully between layers of silk and jewels so no one could hear them when the carriage hit a bump in the dirt road. Five blades total. Not even close to her full collection. Most of her knives were hidden under her plush mattress, but they were also concealed in her dresser and vanity drawers and in hair brushes and tiaras. The knives in the trunk weren't even the only ones she'd brought with her. The leather and lace of her garter were tight and near-grating on her thigh, but the cold metal of her favorite dagger was a comfort. As were the sharp jewels pressed into the leather band at her throat.

Every part of this girl was designed to injure. Sure, she was small, with pretty, fragile features and skin as pale and soft as her pink-stained hair. But she was ruthless. Many expected the eldest daughter of the Sanguisian king to be quiet and frail and sweet. That was how her father wanted her to act towards him. But he was not kind to her. She sported no bruises by his hand, no scars or bloody silk to be seen. But he would lock her up in her tower bedroom and allow no servants up the stairs. Or take her bed away and have her sleep on the carpet. Sometimes, he'd even pit his two daughters against each other for his own entertainment.

So his pretty little rose had accumulated thorns. Dozens of them. Knives of all shapes and sizes. Her aforementioned favorite was long and serrated with fishhook-like curves to the barbs. Once put in, it wouldn't come back out without causing some serious shredding. The hilt was golden and diamond-encrusted.

Her shoulder-length hair hid the scar from a head injury—an accident—that happened when she was small. Just before she started taking the knives from the kitchen drawers. Before she started feeding holly berries to the girls her parents would hire to sit in the gardens and be nice to her.

She watched the land pass out of her perfectly-polished window. It went from the grasslands of her kingdom to the forests of Brachanta. The thick trees eventually morphed into the muddy earth of Filtland. Kaitlyn hated the mud. It stained her dresses and caked her heels. She set to brushing her hair in a mirror installed in the carriage for just that reason.

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of a large house that was technically a palace, but the people of democracy feared that word. So it was an "estate". Kaitlyn stepped out of the carriage and was immensely thankful that her shoe didn't sink into the ground. A servant carried her trunk into a guest room where she would change. But for now, she would catch up with her friends.

She found Hazel and Roxy chatting in a sitting room. So she sat and joined in.

One hour before the rest of the guests would be arriving, they all returned to their rooms to get ready. Hazel and Roxy usually didn't take that much time to get ready for anything, so they would probably spend the remaining time reading or helping to set up the ballroom.

Kaitlyn changed into a teal dress with seven layers of tulle and silk and lace. Knives were secured in specially added sheathes under each sheer layer. She was well-armed despite the no-weapons rule. She strapped a dagger below her favorite and another on the other leg. She put on her tallest heels and her most intricate tiara. She then brushed her hair once more and applied more makeup.

In the ballroom, the caterers were setting things up and the flowers had been delivered. Hazel carried a large pot of soup into the room. She was dressed in golden armor with matching ouroboros accessories. Her pointed crown was nestled among her brown locks and her purple cape and long loincloth almost dragged the marbled floor. The strings of gems in her ears clinked together with her movements. Her sandals mad a satisfying tapping sound on the marble floor.

Soon, the room was prepared and guests began spilling through the heavy doors, announced as they entered. King Falantris of Brachanta. President Sentina of Harbris. Lord Jant of Lonredia. Two others, whose names Kaitlyn didn't pay attention to.

Then, "His Magesty, King Noah of Niton." He was there. Kaitlyn was honestly surprised he actually showed up.

She looked up from the appetizer table to see what this new king looked like. He was not looking at her, and she would have been offended if she hadn't recognized his face. Gracie? Kaitlyn smiled to herself. Of course Gracie was smart enough to take her father's throne from under everyone's noses. Kaitlyn would congratulate her friend later. For now, she was debating whether or not to eat another shrimp kabab.

Besides, he was locked in a stare down with Hazel, who was stock-still. Kaitlyn watched.

Gracie—Noah—Ripped his eyes away, to Roxy on their pedestal. The person Kaitlyn knew was not one to neglect etiquette, though they had surely abandoned the princess-specific rules.

King Noah walked to Roxy's chair—not a throne in the same way the estate was not a palace—and Hazel's eyes followed. She knew who he was as well, and was waiting until she could approach.