The Flower Crown Princess

Part 11

I have no idea where we're going. I have no idea why I follow Kell down the hills towards the houses and edifices of the town. I have no idea why I trust him. He is, after all, not that much older than I am.

But I do. 

As we enter the outskirts of the city, Kell stops and looks at me. "This is going to be a very strange request I'm about to make. Do you trust me?"

"I haven't got a choice, have I?" I wait for his request, hoping it won't be dangerous.

He smiles a bit, then continues to walk. "Good. I promise, you won't be harmed in any way."

Debatable. I don't trust him completely, but I really, honestly, have no choice. Unless he tells me to chop off my own head, I'll do it. He knows the commoners much better than I do. He knows how they think and how they act.

He knocks four times, slowly, on the wooden door of a cottage. It's on the edge of the city, where the poorer folk live. He walks inside when a middle- aged man opens the door, then motions for me to follow him. I wrinkle my nose at such a prospect, but obediently walk into the tiny front room. It smells of woodsmoke and pine boards. Everything is shabby compared to the grand entrance hall at the castle. I miss my home, feeling a pang of sorrow in my stomach. I have hardly ever left it, and even the times that I had were never for long, and I always knew that I'd be back, and when. I'm not so certain of that now.

I hadn't noticed that Kell had left with the other man, but he comes back alone and jolts me out of my thoughts. "This is the request," he says. 

I see a simple brown dress in his hands, with a white coif, held out to me. I take it from him slowly, feeling the coarse homespun wool in my hands. "You want me to wear this?"

He nods. "It's for your own safety, Princess. You'll be dressed just like the rest of us- nobody will know it is you. Some of the mob, or their supporters at least, could be out there, looking to target any royals."

I don't like the cloth. It is itchy and rough in my hands. But what else can I do? 

"Alright," I say. "I'll do it."

Kell motions to the other room in the house. "You can change in there. Put your dress on the bed, and Jun will take care of it later. It'll get back to you, I promise," he adds, seeing my eyes widen at the idea of losing my dress. It did come from the deserts- it's the only place that produces such fine textiles. 

I nod and enter the room, closing the door behind me. This room has only a bed, wardrobe, and washstand, with a little room for walking. I wonder who Jun is. Perhaps the man who opened the door? Possibly, or someone else entirely. All I know is that my legs ache and I don't want to think.

I struggle to get out of my ruined gown. All my life I have had Mortweni to help me, but somehow I do it on my own. I lay the rich fabric on the simple bed and turn to the peasant dress. It is laced up the front, thank goodness; I never could have done the lacing up the back. I keep my own soft, royal- class chemise and underskirts, wriggling into the brown dress and smoothing out the skirt. 

It is of a very different style as my gown, and is only a few centimeters too short. It brushes against my ankles instead of the floor, showing my slippers and the lace edging on my chemise. Hopefully nobody will notice them, or their quality. The sleeves are elbow- length and fairly loose, and the neckline bares a bit more of my neck than I  would like, but it is still modest enough. I fumble with the laces, but do them quickly, and tuck my tangled hair into the coif. It will have to do, this disguise. I don't have a mirror in the room to see how I look. I briefly entertain the idea of going barefoot, as many peasants do, then shudder. I could not walk for long without any shoes!

I feel like today has only been a dream. Nothing seems real as I open the door of the bedroom and go into the front room again. How can this servant boy, only a year or two older than I, be controlling my actions and telling me what to do? I don't understand any of this. I don't like it. I hate the fact that I don't have a choice but to follow him! The words echo in my head. You don't have a choice. You don't have a choice. Today has been a complete haze to me, from the time I woke until this very moment.

"I want to go back to the castle," I hear myself say.

"It's not safe there. Please, Princess, just trust me. You'll be able to go back in a little while, just not for a few hours." Kell speaks confidently, like a grown man. It annoys me that he thinks he can tell me what to do, but I follow him anyways. 

"Keep your eyes down and hunch your shoulders a bit more," he whispers. "You walk too much like royalty."

"I am royalty," I hiss as I comply. "Say where you are taking me, coachman's boy, or I will have you punished on grounds of kidnapping me." I'm not sure if I'm serious. I feel threatened and need to show that I am not, in fact, worthless.

"A friend's," he says out of the corner of his mouth. "I needed to be there anyways. You'll be safe there, I promise. You'll go back to the castle and your normal duties when it's safe."

I decide not to press further. I also decide not to turn him in. When I get back, that is.

Every person that we pass by (and there are quite a few) seems to stare at me. I stick out like a sore thumb here, even among my own people. 

All of the women are dressed exactly like  I am, with wisps of hair escaping their coif and plain, solid- colored dresses laced up the front, in plain and subdued hues of brown and greens, with a few whites,yellows, and even a rust- colored dress or two.  Their skirts nearly brush the ground, revealing dusty, bare toes; those who have shoes have only simple leather slippers or sandals. I self- consciously tug my skirt down as far as I can. It does little.

I follow Kell down twisting, crowded streets filled with the smell of fish and the sound of people bartering for goods and advertising their wares. It seems like a normal day- no coronation, no attack on the castle, no funeral for the previous king.

"Two coppers, Dirchens? I'm not sure I'd pay one for this sorry lot of pears today!"

"Fi-ish! Fresh caught fish for sale!"

I can't distinguish all the voices! It is so very loud, much louder than anything at home. My head begins to throb right as Kell grabs my hand and pulls me towards one tall, thatched, white- plastered building.

"Let go of me!" I try to tug my hand from his grasp, but he is far too strong. I begin to panic. Why is he pulling me somewhere that I do not wish to go? This place doesn't seem at all like a place to live. Is Kell trying to hurt me? "Let go, you fiend!"

"You're making an awful scene." He seems almost disgusted. A scene? It's far too loud in this city square for anyone to hear me, surely.

"Let me go!"

He keeps his hold on me, ignoring my outburst. Why isn't he listening to me?

With his free hand, he knocks four times on the door of the building- the same pattern as he did back at the cottage. Was that only a few minutes ago? It feels like it was centuries past.

The door opens to reveal a large, yellow- clad woman. "You're here. Good. Who is this?" She speaks so fast that I almost can't understand her. Her eyes suddenly widen. Kell shakes his head, and her expression falters. "Never mind. Come in, now."

Picture at top is an Amrachian peasant woman's dress (found in the beautiful void called Pinterest.)