Waiting To Take Flight

Chapter 2 ~ Letter 1

Dearest Friend,

            I am writing to you because you need to know my story. You need to know why I left our home, why I left you. My journey started on the day that I had been told that I would be forced into something that I didn’t want. When I woke up that morning, everything happened in the usual way I followed my daily routine. My gentlewomen woke me up, bathed me, braided my hair, and then helped me dress. I hated the clothes my mother made me wear. The bodices were always pulled too tight, making my waist appear to be the size of a child’s and the skirt of it flowed out like a balloon around my feet, layers of thick material. I felt restricted.

            I met my parents in the family dining hall to eat the day’s first meal with the king and queen of the Air Province. The table was a long rectangle made of ebony wood. A single candelabrum was placed in the middle of it and two crystal glass vases filled with freshly picked flowers were placed on each side of it. Three embroidered place mats the color of an eggshell decorated the tables. On top of them were fine white plates outlined in gold and gold utensils were positioned on both sides of the plates aligned in a traditional way.

            The setup was placed at both ends of the table where my parents would sit and one placed in front of the seat directly in the middle of the table, where I was assigned to sit. There was so much distance between our seats, so much distance between us. I sat down at my assigned seat, waiting for my parents’ arrival. A butler poured Nawa juice into my glass, a liquid made from the fruit of a scarlet red plant, a fruit dripping with thick sweet and tangy nectar. He stepped back when he was finished. I thanked the servant then took a sip from the glass, the drink sweet and tart on my tongue.

             My mother entered the room with two maids holding the train of her shawl. She was always dressed in unnecessarily extravagant things. She was never seen without her crown adorning her head, jewels dangling from her neck and wrists, or her wedding ring that was donned in diamonds, rubies, and other stones. She was vain and arrogant and controlling. Disdain bubbled in my chest when I looked at her. I stood up from my chair and reluctantly inclined my head respectfully to her like I had been taught to and repeated the act when my father walked into the room, without the feeling of contempt.

            Unlike my mother he was kind and understanding, a great ruler, respected by all of his people. We all sat down at the table, “Good morning,” he greets warmly.

             “You’re not wearing your tiara again, why not?” the queen scolded.

            I glared at my plate, “I’m sure that everyone in this castle already knows my identity and I don’t need a piece of metal to remind them, Your Highness.” I retorted, making sure to lay sarcasm on her title thickly.

            Her left eye twitched in annoyance. She grabbed a red velvet cloth off of the table and dabbed the corners of her mouth with it, “Lydia, I am tired of having this discussion with you. You are a disgrace to this family with your wild antics and careless attitude. You have a duty to your people and an image to uphold. A lady does not use that tone and she does not speak back to her mother. Look at me when I’m talking to you and-“ my father held up a hand silencing his wife.

            “May I be excused, father?” I ask, looking pleadingly at him. He nodded his head yes. My mother tried to object, but he silenced her once again. I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as that woman any longer. Two minutes were all it took for her to crawl under my skin. I gathered up the skirt of my dress, bunching up the many layers so that I wouldn’t trip, and stomped out of the dining hall, through the castle, and to my room, slamming the large wooden door shut behind me.