The Royal Resistance

Chapter 1 - The City of Spies

Her last chance.

Gone.

How many times had she had that thought in the last month, let alone the last day? The first time the thought had clouded her mind, she was surrounded by the impossibility of the recent occurrences, trying to grasp her new surroundings, get control of her fears. How far away that now seemed, like a childhood memory untarnished by the cold, judgmental world, and yet, how close it had been.

She thought about how far she'd come, and how much she still had to do. Then raising her head, she looked straight forward, eyes stormy, challenging the darkness around her... and jumped, travelling backwards in time into the fateful day that would change her life forever. The childhood memory with no fear, and no freedom.

~

The train whistled behind her, signaling its departure. Maria Amelia Theresa Holmes looked down at her ticket in her hands, now invalid and useless. She struggled to breathe with the mixture of the tight corset and the wind sucking her breath from her, - or was it the events of the last twenty-four hours? - and watched as the train left, dragging with it one recurring thought. Her last chance. Gone.

She turned around, took in her surroundings. The Station of the Orient truly lived up to its name. Its architecture featured a range of cultures... mogul arches fused with delicate, intricate baroque symbols - grapes, angels, phoenixes and acanthus leaves. Beautiful stained glass patterns adorned the ceilings, comprised of lines, spheres, and domes that made no sense to Maria but looked like a divine masterpiece. The station busted lively with people - going to work, escaping from war, loading resources on the trains for the Allied powers. Small shops along the train tracks sold a sundry of relics - a pearl rosary with the figure of the Virgin Mary, a small wooden necklace, a can of sardines, some flowers - although the livelihood of its products contradicted sharply with the sunken faces of the shop owners, weary of the war that had been ravaging Europe, and much of the world, for the last six years.

She saw a young girl, perhaps eight years old, playing with a small wooden top and smiled. A man hastily ran through the station and bumped into the girl,

"Oi! Watch where you're going," he spat. "Little girl, you should be helping your mother take care of the house instead of stopping the real drivers of the economy!" The little girl looked down and moved away from the man quickly. Seeing this, Maria furrowed her brow, straightened her back and started towards the man.

"Maria!" Her governess's stern voice stopped her in her tracks and the little girl looked up at her curiously. "It's time to go." Maria winced, lowering her head. "Now." Mrs. Elizabeth's voice wasn't loud, but it rang clearly across the platform. Maria smiled apologetically at the young child and walked gracefully back to the governess, who's stern façade showed no sign of sympathy. When Maria was at her side Mrs.Elizabeth whispered to her, "A royal never strays from her duties."

Maria Amelia looked at her with a puzzled expression on her face, "Mrs. Elizabeth, the first lesson you taught me was that a Royal always serves her people."

"A royal does not talk back." The governess' voice did not raise but was clearly firm, "and a royal does serve her people. Right now, this consists of you fulfilling your duty of representing the Dukedom of Cambridge at the palace."

The young royal bit her lip, "Yes Mrs.Elizabeth."

Outside, a grey and navy blue Rolls-Royce waited for them. A man opened the door for them and soon Maria was looking at a maze of small cobblestone streets and electric car wires zooming past her. The salt-filled air coming through the window only helped to intensify her longing for home. She wished she were riding through the lush flower-scented green fields of her residence in Cambridge: the one place where she could truly feel freedom from the war and her duties.