Caidoz

Chapter 6- A Unique Gift

The monstrosity stares at me with dull eyes, almost as if begging me to put it in a closet somewhere it would never see the light of day.
   "Well?" She asks, dangling the thing closer. A yellow that could match vomit in repulsiveness, the ballgown flops on its hanger, and I jerk back on the stool before the poofy skirt can touch my arm with its blindingly pink satin bows. "What do you think, your highness?"
   "That's... quite a unique design."
   She brightens and suddenly cradles the dress as if it were her precious child, the dress's ruffles causing it to swish unattractively-- almost as if it were screaming. "I knew it would take a lot of work to please the one and only princess of Caidoz, but Wanders! I sure am glad you are happy with this one! I did not make any other dresses that you could pick from, other than the last twelve you rejected, you see," She says, pretending to wipe off sweat from her forehead with a grin.
   "Ah," I say, chuckling only to swallow heavily as I glanced at the pile of limp gowns in the corner. "Is that so?"
   She nods, still beaming, and grabs the sleeve of the yellow dress, pressing the creature to her chest and suddenly waltzes around the design studio. "Imagine yourself, Princess! Standing at your ceremony in my creation, all of the eyes of the people on you!"
   I lift a finger, opening my mouth. But, before I can get in a word, the designer foxtrots past the white shelves of bright satin, soft silk, and colorful furs and twirls around the empty stools, the glowing surfaces of the worktables illuminating her as if they were the lights to her private show. "Oh, so many people will see you in this dress!" She says, her voice song-like as the gown flings this way and that, kicking to be released from her claw-like grip.
   "And as this will be your first real appearance in your kingdom, everyone will remember you by this dress!" With that, she spins to a pose in front of me, thrusting the fabric in my face, and I have a moment before the Crab forces me to scuttle back to pick up on the smell of dead fish.
   Covering my nose, I stagger back against a worktable, my fingers almost activating the screen. I take a deep breath-- whether to clean my senses or ready myself, I am not sure. "I am terribly sorry for all the trouble," I say, allowing myself to take my time as I study a design pattern posted on the wall, the decorative white tiles, and the silver-heavy mannequins -- anywhere but the woman's eyes.
   "It's not a problem, your Highness!" She says, laughing as she waves a hand.
   "But you see," I say, cutting her short. "I just so happen to already have a dress in mind." I ball my shaking hands into fists and hide them behind my back.
   I never was the best liar.
   There is a silence in which I imagine she stares at me. I hear the dress crunch, and it is easy enough to figure out that she allowed it to crumble on the floor by lowering the hanger. When I force myself to meet her eyes, it's as if the Crab forces me to take another look. I can see the dark bags under eyes, and the skin is etched between her brows where she had knit them in her concentration. Her eyes are dark with disbelief, and her mouth is slightly open as if shocked.
   Then, she inhales sharply, and lifts the hanger off the ground, and forces a nod. "I understand, your Highness," She says, keeping her eyes lowered as she does a slight curtsy.
   I slowly nod. "Yes, and, if you, please excuse me," I say, turning away from the woman to the exit. Suddenly, I hear a scramble behind me and spin around to see her throw herself at my feet.
   Eyes widening, I take another step back, but she looks up quickly, and there is a pleading look in her eyes, similar to how a girl craves a doll. "But, please, your Majesty, if you do not mind my inquiring, what was it that you disliked of my gown?"
   "Um, maybe a little less yellow?" I ask, tilting my head in the direction of the dress, which rested, now at peace, on one of the worktables.
   It was no use. The thing was ugly and at every angle. "And perhaps cut back on the pink?"
   "Your Highness," She says, her tone dramatically different than how she was before. "I know my gowns are ugly. I know that they lack--"
   "Personality? Formality? Perfection?" I ask, unable to restrain myself any longer, but I bite my tongue the minute I see her inhale sharply.
  "There was a contest, you see," She says, playing with her fingers.
   "A contest?"
   "Yes, a design contest with the reward being the opportunity to fit a gown for the princess," She says, looking up at me. "There was a prize of better clothing for the winner, and my children need better. I was so happy to win..."
   I frown. "A contest," I say again, tucking my head against my chest in thought. I don't remember anything about a contest, I think. And then, the answer hits me like a sack of bricks, and I narrow my eyes, my lip curling. "Gemini," I say, half growling his name as I ball my hands into fists, squeezing my nails into my palms.
   My rage leaves me numb to the sensation.
   Something of the royal court's jester, or, in today's terms, comedian, Lord Gemini is, like all Caidozians, recognized with the authority of a noble lord. Due to this nobility, he had the option to live in the Caidozian palace at a young age, and he chose it. He now addresses the royal family as his own, and so I claim him as my cousin and, my parents, their nephew.
   His hair the color of rich chocolate, Gemini is a fair-skinned, twenty-six-year-old man with mischievous honey-brown eyes. Though his nature is unmistakably kind, I soon came to learn of his horrible addiction to the worst torture known to man and Caidozian alike-- pranks.
   The screams of noble ladies were a familiar sound as their combs, previously given a coat of powerful Caidozian energy and left right where they left them, would stubbornly stick to their hair despite their desperate attempts to rip it out. They would show up later styling an uneven hairdo, and it would be all Gemini could do not to laugh himself to death.
   It was surprising to me that it was apparently my turn to suffer, however. On the rare occasion that my cousin dared to prank me, he typically made up for it after by using his Caidozian energy to summon up tangible clouds at will, and we would fly around the room together. Or, he would crack some of his best jokes while we watched his clouds tell the story, merging into shapes.
   But, given the fact that the wool he pulled over my eyes was this thick, I guess I need to work on our relationship.
   Gemini probably set up the entire thing up weeks ago, picking the worst designer he could find for the event just so he could have a good laugh. Grinding my teeth, I sigh and immediately pick up on how the designer's eyes blinked too quickly for her not to be hurt. Instantly feeling guilty, I bend down beside her. I gently touch her arm, and she looks up at me, her eyes watering.
   "Well, it is not much of a problem," I say, forcing a smile. I shrug, glancing at the ceiling before looking back at her. "I mean, you already won the contest, so I'll make sure that cousin of mine keeps his word on the prize."
   Her eyes widen, and her expression becomes one of pure bliss. She grabs my hands before remembering her place and quickly withdrawing them. "Thank you, your Highness," She says, exhaling softly.
   "Oh, please think nothing of it," I say, standing up.
   She rises to courtesy once more, her small grin returning as she dips her head, saying "And I wish you a happy birthday, princess."
   "Thank you," I say, unable to help a smile as I brush a strand of hair behind my ear. I brush off my jeans carefully and casually glance at worktable screen, nearly jumping out of my skin in alarm as I notice that the sun had already risen into the sky. "I am terribly sorry, but I must ask that you, please excuse me," I say, and, without another word, I power-walk out the door, already praying for Gemini's sake that Mom never learns of his contest.
   Lined outside, my hairdresser, my makeup artist, my nail artist, and several maids await me. Some of them are casually brushed up against the wall, while the other half as whispering behind their hands. They stop the moment I arrive. "Princess," they say, bowing as I reach them.
   "My apologies for my tardiness," I say, lifting my chin as my mother would have instructed. "But there is no need to wait much longer, is there?" I raise a brow, tilting my head.
   "No, your Majesty," They say, averting their eyes from mine, as was courtesy.
   I narrow my eyes, allowing a cold grin to stretch over my lips. "Good."
   We move off to the parlor tower, a tiled area with steamy pools, hair equipment, shelves of polish, and everything else that assisted in the transformation of turning anyone into an image of beauty.
   Sitting down on a barber's stool designed like a mini-throne, I flip my hair over the back, and it tumbles down until it falls past the seat. Glancing at her in the mirror, I smirk slightly as I see the hairdresser bite her lip as she takes my hair in her hands, and I notice, with my typical satisfaction, the twinkle in her eyes as she begins to put thought into my style.
   However, in the excitement I sense from her, she yanks a few strands, and I clench my teeth, forcing my expression to stay neutral in the mirror. After growing up with maids and other servants doing my hair, you'd think my head would have adapted to their pulling, and yet here I am, still a tender-head.
   After I remove my crown headband and place it on my lap, she first washes my hair, choosing to use particular chemicals to give it, not only volume but also a bright halo effect. As the mixture soaks into my scalp, it feels like every strand of my hair is on fire, and I squeeze the armrests of the throne. It was all I could do to remember that, as a result of the treatment, my hair would glow for several days with a light bright enough to see even in a dark forest without moonlight-- although I would never be in that scenario.
   The hairdresser then takes pins and rolls up my hair to gain curls while my nail art designer starts on my fingernails, filing them to my preferred almond shape. During this time, lunch is brought in, but, by then, my belly is too full of nerves to eat, and so I don't.
   Once all of my locks are set in place, my hairdresser steps back, bowing. "Princess," she says. "I plan to keep your hair pinned until after I return. Is this acceptable, your Highness?"
 "Yes," I say, in place of a nod as to not ruin my hair. "I dismiss you for lunch." I gently indicate the door, allowing my hands to flow with instructed grace. "Go."
   "Thank you, princess," She says, bowing once last time before she exits, only for her slot beside me to be replaced by my makeup artist, a flock of giggling maids behind her, all at her service. She slowly walks in front of me, allowing her hips to softly sway.
   She then turns on her red high-heeled boots, bending down so that her face is directly in front of mine, her teased hair falling over her shoulders like a steady waterfall. Picking up on the smell of high-quality perfume, I avert my eyes from her perfect features, but she grabs my chin with the speed of a fox silencing its prey, her fingers crushing with the strength of a gorilla.
   "You have a face, at least," She says, sharply jerking my head in every direction like a joystick, making me so dizzy I could barely tell left from right. With her index finger pressing against my skin, she traces the edges of my face. "I have a good base to work with-- you have a nice heart-shaped."
   Her rough treatment irritating the Crab, it hisses a warning, and the rage unintentionally flickers my pupils into its shape just as she flips my chin forward to inspect my eyes. Her narrowed eyes quickly widen, and she lets go, stepping back from me, her hand cupped over her mouth unconsciously. "My deepest apologies, princess," She says, her hands trembling as she holds them up for me to see. "Please forgive my thoughtlessness."
   Tenderly touching my jaw, I glare at her before shaking my head. "I shall forget this," I say, frowning as she brightens. "But, touch me in any manner similar to previously, and I will have the guards escort you out. Now," I say, exhaling heavily before I speak once more. "You may proceed."
   She bows, nodding her head. Her hands shake when she begins the makeup, but, as time goes on, she falls into something of a flow, relaxing. Despite our shaky start, I could tell she was nothing short of a genius when it comes to powder and her brushes.
   Four hours later, the makeup artist finishes with a final stroke, and the hairdresser removes the last pin from my hair, allowing it to come loose in its sudden springiness. She places my headband back on, as a finishing touch, standing back to admire her work with her hands on her hips. There is a brief silence, and I glance up into the mirror and see the reason why the room would have become so quiet, my jaw dropping slightly.
   Unlike many makeup transformations, it was apparent the face in that the mirror was mine. The makeup artist had gone light on the makeup, but I looked even more glamorous than I did when I was required to wear a lot of makeup. My pale skin had a shimmery appearance, and both the birthmark above my right eye and right cheek gave me a somewhat sophisticated look. The extended eye shape and eyelash line highlighted my swamp-green eyes, and my nails were painted with a clear gloss, perfectly almond.
   Curled with a golden glow, my hair fell short due to its style, stopping at my waist. I chuckle as I inspect the curls in the mirror. They might remain tame for thirty minutes, but give my hair more than that duration, and it would untangle itself into straight locks.
   "Well... what do you think, princess?" My makeup artist asks, her brows communicating her hope.
   "I'm impressed," I say, as much as I try to hide my satisfied grin. "Thank you."
   It was as if pressure had been lifted with my words, and the atmosphere becomes exciting once more. After a final glance in the mirror, I turn to them. "You are all released to prepare yourselves for the party." I slide down from the barber's chair only to feel momentarily light-headed, and I stagger forward before I regain my balance.
   "Princess!" A maid cries out, rushing to assist me.
   I weakly hold out my hand, and she stops in her tracks as I straighten up, stretching. "It's okay," I say, inhaling deeply to help circulate my blood. "I've just been sitting for too long. But thank you for your concern regardless." I glance around, noticing how a small frown pulled at the lips of many. Unable to help it, I laugh, smiling at them. "You are all dismissed," I say, gesturing to the exit. "Tonight is a party you want to take your time prepping for, so go!"
   They bow, "Princess Cancer," before taking their leave, the makeup artist avoiding my eyes. Once alone, I check my reflection one last time in the mirror before heading out.
   The fresh air is not the only thing that awaits me outside the tower.
   "Draco!" I wave before clasping my hands together, beaming.
   Leaned against the opposite side, the captain of the guards permits a sly smirk to slide over his clean-shaven face, unfolding his arms as he slowly pushes himself off the wall. "And here comes the royal birthday girl now," he says, his voice set in his typical cross between moodiness and intrigue. He walks towards me, one of his silver-spiked, white finger-less gloves resting on his sword's hilt.
   "I didn't think you'd have time to wish me a happy birthday, Draco," I say, unable to prevent a grin from spreading across my lips. I then frown as he approaches, saying, practically under my breath, "I kind of just expected a really short card."
   "Sorry to disappoint, Princess," he says, his eyes suddenly becoming slit-like in his irritation. "Looks like you the real deal instead. Got a problem with it?"
   I shake my head quickly, "No!" I say, my eyes widening as I raise my hands, but he only laughs and places a hand on my head, ruffling my hair in his typical show of affection.
   It was then that I realized that the chances of making to the party with my hair still styled were slim to none. Trying not to think about it, I look up at the captain, raising a brow. "What are you doing on this tower, Draco?"
   "I'm doing my duty," he says, crossing his arms with a scowl. "I'm to be your escort."
   I blink, my eyes widening. "I didn't think you would have time to be an escort with all your duties. I mean, why not send a regular guard?"
   His mouth opens slightly, and he stares for a moment at me.
   "Draco?"
   He clicks his tongue, his brows lowering-- a common habit of his typical vexed attitude. "Yeesh, kid, I get special permission to escort you on your birthday, and you act like this?" He crosses his arms once more, glancing me up and down, his lip curling. "Is it too much to ask that you show a little enthusiasm? If I knew you were going to act like this, I wouldn't have bothered volunteering."
   Blinking for a moment, I chuckle, waving a hand. "No! No, that's not it, Draco," I say, shaking my head. I glance back up at him, grinning broadly. "I'm glad you decided to personally escort me-- it means a lot on my birthday."
   His eyebrows raise slightly, and he exhales so slowly I almost think I see smoke spiraling from his nostrils. "But don't expect me to be chatty," he says, as he follows me, only a moment's notice behind. "My assignment is just to keep an eye on you tonight. Anything else is out of my job description. Get the picture, almighty kiddo?"
   "I understand," I say, smiling as we crossed the bridge to enter the palace once more, the dim light of the setting sun providing its final rays of warmth just as it sets over the edge of the horizon as dark shadows begin to emerge from the night.
   "Hey, princess," Draco asks from behind.
   "Mm?" I glance over my shoulder, noticing the way the shadows from the lit torches in the hallways cast a mysterious aura upon his face. We were walking down the castle's hall of glass-- a passageway that held a spectacular view from its windows, should one care to look, as I so often did. Guards stood at attention and saluted Draco as we had passed them by, one of them taking that moment to rapidly scratch the inside of his nose. Needless to say, Draco devoured him an instant.
   "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
   "I'm sorry sir! I had a terrible itch, sir!"
   "GO WASH YOUR HANDS!"
   The captain easily catches up to me on his long legs, bending down to whisper, his brow lowered in a somewhat intimidating manner. "I got two questions for you."
   "Okay, what are they?"
   "Where are we going and when did Queen Virgo ever allow for a change in party clothing that permitted anyone into the ballroom without a dress?"
   My eyes widening, I glance down at my tank and jeans. "Um..."
   "Wasn't there a competition for a designer to make you a gown or something?"
   I exhale slowly, massaging the bridge of my nose. "Apparently, there was," I say.
   He snorts, mumbling up at the ceiling before glaring at me. "Why do I have to remind you of everything? Princess, I'm not a babysitter-- I shouldn't have to watch out for your forgetfulness so often. Unless..." He narrows his eyes at me, and I cross my arms, avoiding them.
   "Unless... something happened?"
   "Can you keep a secret?"
   He doesn't change his expression in the slightest. "Other than you, I can't think of anyone else I'd have to keep a secret from."
   "My mother."
   He starts, jumping slightly before rapidly looking around and noticing the attention of one of his fellow guards, who had turn to watch. "You better keep looking straight ahead at that wall, private!" he says, his voice a snarl.
   The soldier flinches before forcing himself to regard the wall with so much passion he becomes somewhat cross-eyed.
   "Sorry, he was new," he says in a husky whisper as he hid us behind the shadows of a winged-statue. "Now, what in Caidoz that regards your dress requires me to keep a secret? Oh, and," He crosses his arms. "Keep it brief, would you?"
   I take a huge breath before saying, "Geminisetupthewholedesigner competitionaspartofahugeprank,andnowIdon'tevenhaveagown."
   He stares at me, his grey eyes wide, his arms slowly uncrossing.
   "And thanks to him, I am going to look like a fool if I don't come with something quick," I say, my pulse rising as I realize the truth behind my words. Why in Caidoz did he decide to prank me on one of the most important days of my life?! I ask myself, my eyebrows narrowing.
   Sewing never came up in my lessons with Homam, and, besides, even if I knew how to make a gown, there wouldn't be enough time before the ceremony.
   "Oh, come on, your Highness!" Draco says, his voice making me jump. He forces himself to exhale, recalling his previous training for once. But his eyes are still fiery when he looks at me. "Princesses are supposed to have an endless supply of dresses!" He stares me dead in the eye, a fist raised on instinct.
   I blink and turn my gaze to the ceiling, thinking. Queen Virgo would immediately notice something was amiss if I showed up in one of my regular ballgowns, even if it had never been used previously to before tonight. My head slumps forward, and my shoulders sag. Then, I glance up at Draco's expectant face and in that moment, I take a deep breath. "You know what Draco? You're right. I do have plenty of beautiful gowns to wear, and I am going to make one of them special by wearing it!"
   He nods, stepping out into the light. "But I disagree that we should keep this a secret," Draco says as we quickly set off for my room. "I think we should let that Twiner have it, and I can't think of a better person to do it than your mother."
   I didn't disagree.