Turn Me Back!

Episode 8 - An Accidental Messenger

"Willa," Kayla's face holds a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. "Did you steal those dolls from that little girl?"

I shuffle my feet. "How'd you know it was me?" It's dinnertime the same day and Kayla has pulled me out of the rations queue into a quiet nook behind the cooking tent.

She rolls her eyes. "It wasn't exactly difficult. The princess is raving about you and your adorable doll family. Then there's the fact that you're the only other 'little girl' in the expedition. Also, Cecelia told me you threatened to pull their heads off earlier in the day."

"Who's Cecelia?"

"THE ACTUAL LITTLE GIRL THAT YOU STOLE FROM."

"Oh." See, this is why I'm a mercenary and not a thief. "The dirty tattle-tale."

"What on earth did you want them for, anyway?" Kayla asks. "Don't tell me you actually wanted to play with them."

"No, no," I say hastily. "I just wanted to seem cute for the princess so she'd let me ride in her carriage." It was a stupid, split-second decision. In that moment I would have done pretty much anything to secure my place in the golden carriage. The dolls seemed like an essential accessory.

It turned out to be a mistake, though. Once I had them, I didn't much know what to do with them. I've spent the whole afternoon clutching them awkwardly. God knows, I was terrible at little-girl stuff even the first time around.

Kayla sighs. "Well, on one hand, I'm pleased you've wangled your way into close contact with the princess. We're horribly short of fighters and you'll be ideally placed to protect her there. On the other hand, little Cecelia is Prince Theodore's second cousin and those dolls are family heirlooms and worth thousands each. You have to apologise and give them back!"

Shit.

"And the princess had better not find out about this either," she calls after me as I slope off, feet dragging. This is quite possibly the most humiliating situation I have ever brought upon myself.

Cecelia's mother opens the carriage door when I knock. She presses her lips together and waves me inside, where Cecelia is sitting with a doleful expression, tear stains plainly visible on her plump cheeks.

"Sorry I took your dolls," I mutter, holding them out to her.

Letting out a noisy sob, she throws herself forward and snatches them out of my arms, retreating to the safety of her mother's skirt. She inspects each doll minutely for damage, stroking their faces over and over.

The mother glares at me. "Well? Are you truly sorry?"

"I'm most very, truly sorry," I mumble.

"And why did you take Cecelia's things?"

I sigh dramatically. "Because she is a generous, selfless, kind-hearted girl who offered to share her dolls with a poor, stupid penniless waif who had none of her own."

Cecelia lifts her head. There's a slight lift to the corner of her mouth.

I continue. "Cecelia is a good, generous, benevolent, caring, philanthropic..."

The little girl's smile becomes a real one. "Mummy, what's filo...filan...?"

"...beautiful, elegant, charming, glamorous, voluptuous,"

"Mummy, what's volum..."

The mother clears her throat. "Alright. That was enough of an apology. Be off with you!" The carriage door slams behind me and I dust off my hands. Job done. If I didn't exactly show my generosity there, at least I repaired the damage. Time to return to my seat in the luxury of the royal conveyance.