A Tale of Crown and Country

Lea

    The carriage bumped and bustled its way along the streets of Aldira. The air inside was dark and stuffy and Amalea wanted nothing but to throw the curtains open for some welcoming sunshine and a cool breeze. The entire city felt like this at the moment: hot, dry, and stuck. But a wisp of wind often found its way up off the Adith Sea and through the winding streets of Allriya's capital.

Amalea never liked travelling by carriage within the city. It was uncomfortable on the cobblestone streets and she knew the transport got in the way of regular citizens. But Father insisted on it, and she didn't like arguing with him.

She was alone this time. Reike and Zuryn, her older brothers, were back at the castle. She was travelling with one of the many courtiers of her father's court, a man she didn't like and therefore refused to learn his name. As the sole princess of her father's reign in Allriya, she oftentimes performed the duties of a queen. She didn't mind all that much: it was something to do. And today's task? Christening a new merchant ship King Crolimus was financing. All she had to do was stand there while the duke spoke, say a few measly words, and then leave. She didn't even get to smash the wine bottle against the hull. This was her third ship-christening this year.

The duke sitting across from her had tried speaking to her soon after they'd left the castle gates. She'd responded politely, but not extensively. Apparently he'd gotten the hint, because every time he looked at her as if to speak, he decided against it. Amalea liked it better that way: she could let her mind wander to beyond the four annoying close carriage walls.

It was rather presumptuous to travel this way. Everyone knew you were coming, and it really wasn't much of a distance. From the castle to the docks, downhill, she figured thirty minute walk, if she walked slowly. By carriage it was fifteen minutes of torture. Nothing to look at except the spindly old man across from her and the plain navy curtains that blocked her view of the world.

Amalea sat back in her seat in a huff. Her mind returned to the adventure books she'd left strewn across her bed, the ones she had to abandon when the carriage had been called for. She returned to their yellowed pages, to the black scratches adorning them. They were her escape, her way of transporting if not her body than her mind to places unknown, to anywhere and everywhere. Father didn't know about them, he thought the overflowing number of books on her shelves were instructional, historical, and others of the like. Only Reike had been privy to her collection. He was the main contributor of course. Sometime she sent a maid or footman with a few coins to a local bookseller. Another portion of her books came from the University librarian, Methies. It took a village to keep it from her father, and it worked.

She understood why her father thought the books dangerous: they gave her all sorts of ideas. Her favourite were the adventure types, the ones where fantastical heroes and heroines went on dangerous journeys to discover or retrieve something or someone. The ones that made her dream of perilous treks, bandits, and pirates. The ones that made her believe her bedroom had turned into a wild forest, the raging sea, or the peaks of mountains. She craved adventure, and the closest she'd come were the adventures contained in between the pages of a book.

The carriage shuddered to a halt for the third time since entering the lower town. Lea resisted the urge to roll her eyes. At this rate it would be a lot faster just to walk. And she wasn't even allowed to look past the navy curtains to see what was the matter.

Apparently the duke had the same thought because he began to drum his fingers on the wall in irritation. That was even more annoying than the sudden stops, Lea thought. Shouts sounded all around the four corners of the carriage. Lea panicked for a moment before recognizing what the shouts were saying: a fruit cart had been upset and so had its owner. She relaxed back in her seat; trying not to move in the small heat wave that had erupted in the carriage since they'd stopped. Soon enough everything would be settled and they'd be on their way.

But even the short burst of adrenaline from the shouts outside the carriage had jolted Lea's sense of adventure awake. It hadn't been much, but she'd been thrilled by the experience, by the excitement her overactive imagination had fabricated. It was a small adventure, and she wanted another one.

"What is taking them so long?" the duke in his blue breeches complained angrily. He loudly exited the carriage, the open door clanging shut behind him letting in the faintest glimmer of sunlight, and with it, hope.

Lea could hear him in his grating voice chastising the footmen and the fruit-seller. The flash of sunlight and fresh air, the bustle of the marketplace, of conversation and entertainment, of the outside world lingered at the front of her mind. It was like a bite of fresh fruit, juicy and joyful, but altogether fleeting. She wanted more. Having hardly tasted it, she craved it. She thought about jumping out of the carriage, of running, but thought better of it. But the reminder of what lay before her–the ship, the castle, the same old days of lessons and tutors–drowned out the sensible voice in the back. It tried to break through the flood of excitement, reminding her of her duties. Lea pushed the voice back down. She didn't want that anymore. What was the point of all the lessons, all the duties?

At breakfast Father had commented that Prince Philton would be arriving in a few days. She'd been betrothed to him for as long as she could remember, but it had only hit this morning that it was real, that it was happening. Was that what she was destined for? Someone else's wife? She must have blocked out the memory since then, but it came rushing back in, joining the team of thoughts that convinced her of the endless possibilities that lay just on the other side of that carriage door.

Lea rested her hand on the door handle. She could hear the duke's irritated voice growing stronger, growing closer. He was about to get back into the carriage. This was her only chance. If she squandered it now who knew when she'd get another one. Lea knew there was no turning back. She watched as if in slow-motion as her manicured fingers curled around the handle.

She pushed. The carriage door opened without a sound. Sunlight covered her face and arms. It warmed her skin and she felt as if it beckoned her onwards. She could always turn back now, she thought; it still wasn't too late. But a smile crept across her face. It was unconscious, but she knew it was right: this was her chance. With the duke almost back in the carriage, she stepped one slippered foot onto the lower step. In a bound both feet made contact with the worn cobblestones below. Harsh sunlight illuminated her entire body. Sweat beaded on her brows but the fresh sea breeze rustled her skirts and she felt alive. This was it; this was the moment. She didn't glance back, but hurried unseen up the street towards the first alleyway. She disappeared behind the stone corner, into the cool shadows of Aldira.

It was a split-second decision, one that changed her life. When the duke returned to the carriage he'd find her bench empty; curtains fluttering in the wind, sunlight drifting in. But no princess. She smiled at the thought: Father would be furious.