Integrity

Chapter One

It's been three months since the King was killed in battle.
Today is Prince Calix's coronation.
The poor orphan is barely eighteen. As of yesterday.
And honestly, he's something of a weakling. I'd make a much better leader, I think, but I have to make do. Pacho mentioned I could just sneak my way into the guard, into his advisory, but I don't think that's how that works.
"Annie!" Pacho calls.
"What!?" I reply to my friend. We share a little hut out on the edge of the capital city. It doesn't cost much because the land is undesirable. It's dangerous. But it's home. And having a home is good.
"You can't go out like that." She pokes her head in. "It's coronation day."
I glare at her. "How did you know what I'm wearing?" I say, gesturing to the leggings and tunic that I normally wear in place of a dress, the riding boots that take the place of regular shoes.
"Honestly, Annabella, when do you wear anything else?"
"Coronation day, apparently," I mutter, and switch into a scratchy dress that feels more like burlap than wool.
"I heard that."
She's almost two years younger than I, but she acts so much like a mother some days.
"We're not even going to be there to witness the coronation," I say. "Why do we have to wear nice clothes?"
Maybe it's because I act like a child.
"He's going to come out and wave to us and we need to support him. Long live the king and all that." She walks out of the little hut.
I grumble and follow her.
There are a lot of people in our village. I shiver a little and look around. I'm not comfortable with this many other human beings. I wish I had my cloak and my bow. I wish I weren't here, in the middle of the little town. I like the forest a lot better.
My stomach is in knots. "Pacho."
"No."
I tug on her sleeve. "Pacho, please."
"No!" she says, and shrugs me off, not turning to look at me.
My heart pounds. People. People.
The man five feet to the right has a knife concealed in his boot. The three women directly in front of me are the butcher's children and have skill with holding down large animals.
People.
I'm sweating.
"Pacho, please!"
She whirls around, death glare ready on her face, but stops when she sees that mine is completely drained of blood.
"You're safe," she says.
"No. No. Pacho. Can we go?"
"Here, come on."  She drags me out of the midst of the crowd, into a smaller alleyway near the castle walls.  "Annie, are you okay?"
     A lot of people are afraid of small spaces, dark spaces.  Me, I'm not.  I get panicky in large, open areas.  The addition of several people does nothing to quench my fears.  I prefer the dark, enclosed, and very alone spaces I find in the tree tops.  People are dangerous, and so are open spaces.  You can't HIDE in open spaces.  You can't be unseen.
     I like to be unseen.
     "I'm all right," I say, and smile gratefully at my friend.  We embrace, then turn to watch just as the new King exits the building and walks onto the balcony.
     Chants of "long live the King!" resonate throughout the village.
"What if we went up there?" I tease, getting back at Pacho for telling me to sneak into his guard.
"Do you want to?" she asked, all seriousness.
"You would actually let me?"
"Well, yes, of course I would."
I grin. "I'll be right back." I know how to get to the edge of the village without being seen, and in five minutes I'm back in the alleyway, tunic and leggings and all.
Pacho chuckles and shakes her head. "I'm ready to see this," she says, gesturing to the wall. I scramble up quickly, almost losing my footing once.
     "Annabella," Pacho hisses, "if you fall I am not helping."
     I don't lose my footing again.
     From up here, I see everyone.  The village is actually rather small—unlike most kingdoms on this isle, our capital city is not a city at all.  In this place, everyone knows everyone—although I don't.  I'm afraid of people, so I spend my time in the forest or selling to the butcher.
     I have one foot on a brick jutting from the wall, and one hand on a brick about a meter above it.  I make sure my grip is heavy, make sure I am in a dark enough corner that I will not be seen, and then I swing out with my other hand and foot and hold my position there.  Here I feel weightless; here I feel free, even though if I look down at Pacho I will feel trapped and afraid again.
     "Hey!" I hear a shout.  I rotate my body back toward the wall and look up.  "You're not supposed to be there!"