That night I dreamed the same dream that had gripped me my one night in the palace. Once again, a small woodshed contained me, my only protection from the taunts of the children who hammered on its walls. I woke up twisted in my thin coverlet, hoping I hadn’t cried out in my sleep. A quick glance showed Celine sleeping peacefully.
Both princes had agreed that after two instances of violence, regardless of its direction, they didn’t want their young sister sleeping alone. It had been Celine herself who insisted that she would much prefer me to any maid.
Some light was already seeping into the tent, so I sat up and resumed work on the dress I had been adjusting the day before. The fashion of the jungle-dwellers, or junglers as they called themselves, had changed little since I had been here over four years ago, but it differed significantly from the styles popular in the capital. With any luck our visit to the jungle would be short, and I would only need to modify a handful of outfits for the three royals.
I had almost finished my current project when Celine awoke.
“There’s so much moisture in the air, I feel like I’m swimming instead of walking,” she said, as she slipped into the light dress I had already adjusted for her. Sheer sleeves protected her arms, and her skirts were as light as modesty would allow. “Thank goodness I brought you along, I would look like a fool wearing my normal gowns next to all these junglers.”
We walked together to breakfast which was served, like all the other meals, in a large communal hut without walls. The locals had initially offered for the royals to eat in one of their few fully-enclosed huts, but Frederic had elected to join the rest of the village and Tour for the communal meals, as all junglers did regardless of rank. Celine loved the look of the treetop houses preferred by most of the locals, but I was glad to be sleeping in a tent and eating on the ground.
I had arrived in the jungle, traumatized and alone, at twelve years old. My new foster siblings commemorated the occasion by holding me over the edge of their home until I broke down and cried. In my two years living in a treetop home I had overcome my subsequent fear of heights, but that didn’t mean I ever wished to climb up to such a dwelling again.
“I would love to live in such a place,” said Celine as we ate, having no idea of the source of my distaste. She scrunched up her face. “Well, without all these bugs, and as long as it wasn’t so hot.”
“So, in other words, not in the jungle,” said Frederic, joining us. “How undiplomatic of you.”
Celine merely rolled her eyes and kept eating.
“Don’t worry,” I said dryly. “You won’t convince a jungler there’s anything wrong with their beautiful jungle. Any criticism will be taken merely as a sign of the poor breeding of the speaker.”
“Excellent,” said Frederic, “how reassuring.”
The twinkle in his eyes made me nearly choke on my starfruit. I had come to the conclusion that he had more of a sense of humor than I had first suspected, I just needed to learn when his serious voice hid a less-than-serious sentiment. Celine had assured me he was just like their mother in that regard.
“Don’t worry,” she’d told me earlier, “you get used to it.”
Much to my relief, she apparently hadn’t noticed I was fast becoming a lot more than just used to it—at least in Frederic’s case.
“It’s not as if I hate the jungle, or anything,” Celine told us as she peeled a banana. “Just look at all this fresh fruit. And the colors are indescribable. I think I saw a flower as big as my head back there.”
“Just be careful,” I said. “You’d be surprised how many things are poisonous here.”
“Poisonous?” Her eyes grew large and thoughtful.
Frederic was watching her with misgiving. “Don’t get yourself poisoned, Leeny.”
“I’m not a child, Frederic.”
“I know.”
Several locals joined us. “How is the food?” one asked, and we all heaped praises on the fare. Even I had to admit that I had missed the fruit and some of the spices used in the local dishes.
“Oh, yes,” one assured us, “our bananas are far superior to the western ones. Our rissoles, as well. You’ll see this evening.”
I hid a smile. I had lived in one of the western villages and heard for two years about how greatly superior the western fruit and cooking was to the eastern. Junglers had no time to worry about outsiders when they had such an intense rivalry going on among themselves.
The villagers had arranged a series of exhibitions for the Tour, including archery, climbing, and an intense game called Kurau which was played high in the trees using vines and a small, solid leather ball. Just watching the game, which had been much beloved by my jungler foster siblings, was enough to make me queasy, so I wandered away.
Following a natural trail through the trees, I found a passion fruit vine and stopped to admire the incredible purple flowers. They had always been my favorite, and I had incorporated aspects of their design into many of my creations.
Steps behind me made me flinch and spin around. Frederic appeared around a tree and froze.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I shook my head. “I’m all right.”
“That’s a beautiful flower,” he said.
I smiled. “Yes, it’s my favorite.”
He shifted uncomfortably. “It probably isn’t a good idea for any of us to be wandering off on our own.” He must have seen the change in my face because he added, swiftly, “For our own protection.”
I took a slow breath. “You don’t need to worry about me.” He could have no way of knowing that I had spent as much of my two years here alone in the jungle as I possibly could.
“You’re familiar with the jungle, then?” He looked half concerned, half curious.
I licked my lips nervously and tried not to notice the way his eyes dropped to my lips and then quickly away. I would have preferred not to talk about my time among the junglers.
“I spent two years here,” I said at last. “Before Catalie.”
“You’ve lived in the jungle as well as the islands?” He seemed to weigh me with his eyes, and it took all my self-control not to squirm.
“I’ve lived in many places.”
“Evidently.”
A moment of quiet passed between us, as I plucked one of the flowers and spun it in my hand. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps it would help to unburden myself of the pain of the past.
“When I was twelve, I was taken in by a kind jungler woman, who found me on the eastern edge of the jungle.”
“Ah, one of the easterners,” he said with a rare smile, clearly attempting to lighten the air between us.
“Indeed,” I said. “You may or may not be surprised to learn they are almost exactly like the westerners.”
“How disappointing. I had conceived a strong desire to meet them and now fear I will find myself greatly disappointed.”
I smiled back at him, surprising myself with an unexpected buoyancy. I had never found anyone so easy to talk to as I did this prince, whose conversation should have been forbidden me given my background.
“I confess I can taste no difference in the bananas,” I admitted with a small smile of my own. But when I thought of my next words, it dropped away.
“Unfortunately my foster mother had not consulted her own children when she acquired a new one. They saw me as competition for her love, and the more kindness she lavished on me, the crueler they became. I came to dread her smiles and warm words.”