The Lost Princess

Chapter 1 || Truth and Wisdom

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Tucked away safely behind the massive oaken door, I peered through a crack just wide enough to spy the shadows of my father and the chamberlain, a portly fellow named Gestar. His beady eyes ever left me with an uneasy feeling, as though he could see through stone walls.

I sensed that whatever they quietly discussed was reaching its zenith when Father's voice boomed, "We cannot!" His words echoed through the stone corridors, setting my heart to racing. I edged closer, the scent of aged oak mingling with the ever-present lavender that clung to my gown. Father's imposing figure now stood before Gestar, and I could well imagine his bright blue eyes flashing with righteous fury. "The protection is theirs, yet they still ask for more! Nay, they must pay! No more! I want them gone and done with!" His voice, still heavy with vexation, faded as he began to move from my sight. My father's wrath could strike fear into the hearts of those unaccustomed to his ways, though I knew him to be more bark than bite.

"Lady Arabella, you must be addled! Skulking about the castle, so near to His Majesty's place of work," my lady's maid, Idean, scolded, shooing me away with her linen handkerchief. Her grey locks were neatly combed into a tight bun atop her head, her thick brows knitted together in concern. The wrinkles on her face twisted into a look of worry, her usual olive linen dress crisp and proper.

Though displeased at being caught eavesdropping, instant remorse washed over me as I beheld the worry etched in her sweet features. "I beg your pardon, Idean. I know this to be a sin." I cast my eyes downward, the very picture of a docile, submissive princess caught in unseemly behavior. I should have left it thus; 'twas enough. But, of course, I could not hold my tongue. An irritated, most unladylike groan escaped my lips. "I grow weary of the same tiresome routine. Am I not meant to prepare for the day I shall rule the kingdom? Should I not learn of the lives of our people beyond these suffocating walls, including the great one that surrounds this fortress?"

As I fumed, I felt my heart quicken its pace. I drew a calming breath and sought out Idean's eyes, only to find her already preparing to chastise me anew. I hastily added, "Not that I do not cherish your company. 'Tis merely that I am forced to remain within the confines of the castle. How am I to serve my people—or anyone—if I know them not?"

Nothing I uttered was novel to Idean's ears. She knew; she was one of the few in the castle who truly understood my plight. But alas, naught would change. Ever since I was old enough to comprehend my captivity, the walls around me have seemed to close in, slowly suffocating me like a vine choking a sapling.

Idean began to approach, and I knew I would soon be enveloped in her comforting embrace. However, at that very moment, Mother emerged from the office, a cloud of lavender following her. Based on her stone-cold expression, I knew she had heard my lamentations. What a fool I was! I should have held my tongue until Idean and I were far from the door.

"My darling girl," Mother began, her voice as smooth as silk, "Eralibaen, though peaceful and great in many ways, harbors people who take not kindly to royalty. You would not be as welcome as you wish. 'Tis best to remain here, away from them. Just as they desire. We may rule them, but 'tis prudent to respect their wishes and keep our distance. Is that not so?" Mother added, directing her query at Idean with a slight tilt of her head.

"Aye, my queen, you speak with truth and wisdom," Idean replied without hesitation. It struck me as odd; 'twas the same phrase William had used when I vented about my mother a 7 days past. 'She speaks with truth and wisdom'. I recalled because I remember gawking at him and wanting to cry out that this was not the time. Perchance 'tis merely a reflection of the respect instilled in the servants I grew up with. They will not speak ill of those who wear the crown. Though that must not extend to me, for I am frequently the butt of their jests.