Princess on the Run

Chapter 4

"To thine own self be true."

-William Shakespeare

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"...and thus, the Treaty of Arendelle in 1564 solidified our alliance with the neighboring kingdoms, ensuring peace and prosperity for over a century..."

The words of her tutor began to blur in Isabella's mind as she felt herself dozing off. Her eyes fluttered, struggling to stay open, and her head dipped forward slightly before she jerked it back up. She glanced around the room, trying to focus on anything other than the endless droning. The intricate patterns on the wallpaper, the delicate carvings on the furniture, and even the dust motes dancing in the sunlight seemed more interesting than the lecture.

After a few more attempts at staying attentive, Isabella's resistance finally crumbled. Her eyes closed, and she dozed off, her head resting on the table. Her tutor, a stern man with graying hair and a perpetually disapproving expression, sighed in defeat. He decided to let her sleep, knowing that waking her abruptly would likely result in a tantrum or a pointed remark.

The late night sessions with Mary had started to wear her down, but she didn't want to admit defeat. Afterall, it was her idea in the first place. There was no way in hell was she backing down.

An hour later, Isabella awoke with a start. She glanced around groggily, her eyes finally landing on her tutor, who was sitting at his desk, working on his laptop, watching her with an expression of resigned disapproval.

"Your Highness," he began, his voice tinged with irritation, "you have been behaving quite differently these past few weeks. Is something wrong?"

Isabella rubbed her eyes and tried to recall his name. Failing to remember, she mumbled an apology. "Everything is fine, just a little nervous about my birthday, I guess." She lied smoothly, pushing back the loose strands of hair that had fallen during her nap.

Her tutor sighed deeply, clearly unconvinced. "Please put more effort into your lessons, or I will be forced to speak with the King and Queen regarding your lack of interest." His tone was curt, and he bowed low before leaving the room.

As the door closed behind him, Isabella groaned and tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. She grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and headed toward her room. The idea of facing another tedious lesson was unbearable. God, she really needed some coffee right about now.

She entered her room and threw the bag onto her bed clumsily before heading to the washroom. She slowly placed her tiara onto the granite countertop before splashing some water onto her face. The cool water helped clear her mind, though it did little to lift her spirits.

After a few minutes of freshening up, she reentered her room and gave Mary a ring, asking for a cup of strong coffee. The lingering worry about her tutor's potential tattling gnawed at her. If he spoke to her parents, they might confine her to her room, jeopardizing the entire escape plan. She shivered at the thought just as a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," she sang, as the door opened and Mary entered, a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

"So, how was the lesson?" Mary asked, sitting down next to Isabella on the bed.

"Don't remind me about that old man," Isabella groaned, taking a sip of the coffee.

Mary gave her a disapproving look. "Isabella, do you even know your tutor's name?"

Isabella paused, frowning. "Uh, not really. What is his name again?"

"His name is Mr. Whitaker," Mary said with a sigh, shaking her head. "Isabella, you don't even know your own tutor's name?"

"Well, now I do," Isabella mumbled, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Isabella, please tell me you're putting effort into your lessons," Mary said seriously, her hazel eyes searching Isabella's deep blue ones for sincerity.

"Well, I kind of dozed off... in today's lesson. Let's just say Mr. Whitaker was not happy. He even threatened to have a one to one with my parents," Isabella sighed, taking another sip.

"Isabella, you're being too careless," Mary said with a frown, looking at her with clear disapproval.

"It's not like I'm doing it on purpose," Isabella protested between sips.

"You promised me that you would balance both things well," Mary said, crossing her arms. "If you want me to continue helping you, you must prove yourself." With that, she stood up and walked to the door.

Isabella laid down on the bed as she heard the soft shutting of the door. Just Great, she had earned two looks of disapproval, and the day had just started. She stared at the ceiling, feeling the weight of her responsibilities pressing down on her. The plan had to work. It was her only chance for freedom, hence she needed as much training as she could get from Mary. She couldn't afford any more mistakes.

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"Father, but is it really necessary for me to start seeing them at such a young age?" Isabella asked her father with a sigh as they both rode their horses across the riding hall.

"Isabella, we have talked about this. You have no say in this matter," he said curtly, gripping the reins of his horse tightly. "You're not the first and won't be the last to see suitors at this age. Hence, I strongly suggest you stop whining about it every chance you get."

Isabella bit her lip, frustration bubbling inside her. The steady rhythm of the horses' hooves did little to soothe her growing resentment. She turned her gaze to the horizon, her heart heavy with the weight of her impending duty.

"But, Father, I'm only eighteen," she persisted, her voice tinged with desperation. "I'm not ready for this."

Her father's expression softened slightly, but his resolve remained firm. "I understand your feelings, Isabella. But as the only heir, your duty to the kingdom comes first. We must secure the kingdom's future."

She rolled her eyes. "You and Mother are still young. You'll have the throne for a long time. There's no rush."

Her father sighed deeply. "The future is uncertain, Isabella. Death is uncertain. One moment a person is there, and the next, they are gone. We must prepare for every possibility." 

Isabella groaned at this, knowing that arguing further would be futile. The conversation could easily stretch on for hours. She sighed in defeat. 

"Alright, Father. How about we race to the end of the hall?" Isabella said, her competitiveness rising up to the surface.

Her father raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. "A race, you say? Very well, Isabella. Prepare to lose."

She steadied her horse, the tension from the previous conversation momentarily forgotten. "Ready, set, go!" she shouted, urging her horse forward.

Her father laughed heartily as they sped across the riding hall, the wind whipping through their hair. For a few exhilarating moments, all thoughts of duty and suitors were left behind. Isabella laughed as she and her father raced neck and neck.

As they reached the end of the hall, Isabella's horse pulled ahead by a nose. She turned to her father, grinning widely. "Looks like I win, Father!"

He laughed, a rare sound that filled her with warmth. "Well done, Isabella. Well done. I have to step up my game next time."

Isabella grinned at him, fixing her tiara. "I'll be waiting."