Not My Fairytale

Chapter 7.1

A Perfect Princess

The frosty wind whipping through the valley was a welcome relief as our little group trudged through the melting snow on the street. It was an unusually warm December day, a fact that was not aided by the thick layers of my silver dress, nor by the heavy fur lined cloak that hung from my shoulders. As a shifter, my body temperature ran hotter than a humans and I would much prefer short sleeves, but that was not the role I was to play today. No, today I was to be the dainty half human princess, unimposing and unintimidating. The proof that humans and non-humans can coexist peacefully. My job was to smile and wave and speak pretty words to cover up the blaring truth– that we still had no idea who we were up against. That a fourth town in our kingdom had been attacked and we were no closer to finding the culprit and putting an end to it all than we had been after the first.

That's why I was here, sloshing through the icy sludge on the cobbled streets of Alano in three inch heels. That's why I was ignoring the gentle tickle of sweat sliding down my back while plastering a pleasant smile on my lips for the onlookers who gawked at me from open doorways and windows as if I were an item on display. Today was about appearances, after all. It was about being the perfect princess my parents expected me to be. To play the part they wanted me to play, one that would assuage the fears of the townspeople and paint our family in a flattering light. A part I knew very well.

And, I'd be lying if I said I didn't welcome the distraction. As hard as I had tried to keep my thoughts from turning to what happened at the lake yesterday, they wandered there on their own any time I put my mental guards down. I knew that letting him into my head in any form would be a slippery slope I wouldn't be able to climb my way out of, therefore, my plan was to stay busy every waking moment– and pray to both my father's Goddess and mother's God that he would not appear in my dreams again that night.

So I pushed my discomfort to the back of my mind and focused my energy on appearing somewhere between impassive and pleasant, knowing that showing no emotion is better than showing the wrong emotion. Though, I did still try to maintain an air of approachability, even while my entourage of guards eyed the strangers warily. I kept my head held high, sighing internally as my thoughts travelled unbidden back to the azure eyes and dimpled grin that had haunted my dreams the night before. To the drowning dread I now felt swallowing me whole at the prospect of my future– without the position I had trained my whole life for, nor the man I had loved for just as long. But, I could not allow myself to dwell on such things. Not now, at least.

I spared a glance at the guards surrounding me. Honestly, I found their numbers to be a bit overkill, but they added to the facade I wore; the facade of a helpless delicate princess, unable to fend for herself. The kingdom did not need a warrior princess. No, not when we had not been in any wars since before my birth; what the kingdom needed was a pretty thing to distract and mollify the masses. Though unnecessary, the guards looked formidable in their black uniforms with violet sashes, a hint of silver catching the light with every step. If they were uncomfortable with the slow pace I set with the uneven paving and unwise choice in footwear, they gave no sign, keeping their attention wholly leveled on the throng of people surrounding us.

People truly were everywhere now, as we made our way deeper into town– clustered in doorways, windows, balconies, and rooftops. There was even one little boy waving from atop a lightpost, earning a rare, genuine smile from me. The whole town seemed to be out to catch a glimpse at the spectacle. To see me– the half-blooded freak. The princess born of a shifter prince and a human woman. Born of a long lineage of alpha blood and a commoner. Two contrasting worlds joined together, pounding as one through my veins. To some, I was a symbol of hope. A sign that the old way of life really was a thing of the past.

The irony of that thought was not lost to me, as the burned ruins from the attack came into view. Everything for several blocks around had been completely razed, leaving behind only charred foundations and half burned skeletons of buildings. Homes, shops, taverns, parks– all were gone. The devastation was enough to sober my thoughts and make me forget all about the discomfort of the sweat dripping down my back or the chilly mud soaking through my shoes. I had been briefed in my father's study prior to leaving the castle. I knew before I had stepped foot from the transport that exactly thirty-two people had died in the attack. I also knew that of those thirty-two, four had been children under the age of ten. But nothing could have prepared me for the icy chill that ran down my spine at the sight of the little doll laying forgotten– half buried in the ash. I averted my gaze quickly, blinking back the sudden burning sensation in my eyes.

I need to be strong, I reminded myself. This is all a show. I can mourn the victims later, but for now, my family was relying on me. To maintain the support of the humans, only my mother or myself would suffice– and my mother was as defenseless as the people crowding the streets around me. It was all posturing, but it was necessary posturing. If we were to allow so many to die so close to the capital without acknowledgement, we would risk our already tenuous relationship with the human populations within our borders. Even having a human queen cannot erase years of abuse from their memories.

To hold the people is to hold the power.

My father's words echoed through my head. It was only one of the dozens of similar sayings he was known to share. Words of wisdom passed down from his own father– or learned the hard way, on his own. I let them repeat in my mind, using them as a mantra to propel me forward, deeper into the city, ignoring the crawling sensation of so many eyes tracking my progress, and the sinking knowledge that I had nothing to give them– nothing but false hope. Some of those eyes, I knew, belonged to people who would sooner stab me than shake my hand, but I didn't let myself dwell on that fact either. With my father's voice echoing through my head like a war cry, I could almost pretend that I couldn't smell the lingering scent of burned flesh still floating in the air.

I forced down my sudden nerves as the hastily made platform came into view, the splintering wood nailed unceremoniously in no particular pattern. It wasn't pretty, but it would hold.

I hoped.

I had to choke down the instinct to not trust the structure, keeping a steady, confident stride until I was up the three steps and was atop the surprisingly sturdy contraption that would serve as my stage.

The village was dissected in half by the Omega River, whose water seemed to burst from the ground a mile or so up the road in one of the country's largest natural springs. The water wrapped around one side of the village center as if it wore its own diamond tiara to match the one nestled within the tight curls Ava had pinned my hair in. I settled myself in front of the microphone, calmly folding my hands together and listening to the babbling of the river behind me as I allowed the crowd to settle into the space between my stage and the ring of shops behind them. I took the time to study my audience, to search every expression. Some were excited; some wary. A few faces were guarded, not allowing me even a glimpse of what lay beneath.

Several of the faces were afraid. Whether their fear was of myself and my guards, or of the faceless, nameless killers who had crept up on them in the night, I did not know. The opening lines of the speech I had rehearsed ran through my mind on repeat, but I could not seem to summon them to my lips. Another one of my fathers sayings wove its way up from the back of my consciousness.

To look powerful is to be powerful.

Those words had carried me through countless public appearances and speeches such as this one throughout my life. But, suddenly, the words didn't feel right. To look powerful is to be powerful, but that is not how to accomplish what I came here for. These people were well aware of our power, even without flashing it in their faces. Lording more power over them wouldn't help us win them over, and it certainly wouldn't help me prove my worth to my father.