“Runt?” She scoffed. “I’m six inches taller than you.”
“Yes, but you are the baby, and, therefore, the runt. Now, off to bed with you. You are going to need your energy tomorrow if you are to nag Father to death for selling off your oldest sister for a bit of power.”
Dayna took much delight in tormenting our father, maybe a tad too much. She hugged me. “I love you,” she told me before hurrying out of the room.
Dayna had the softest heart of the four of us. She wore her emotions on her sleeve for all to see. I worried that one day her heart would be injured beyond repair because she bore it so openly.
I climbed into bed, relishing the feel of the cool sheets against my skin. As I pulled the drapes closed around the bed, blocking out the light from the lamps I allowed to remain lit, I pushed away the worries that plagued me. Laying back in the bed and sinking down into the soft, goose-feather mattress, I closed my eyes and thought of the many adventures I longed to embark on. I wanted to travel—to see far away parts of the world—past the borders of England, Tara, and Caledonia. I didn’t want to be cooped up behind some great wall, expected to wear stiff dresses and entertain at court forever. Rather, I wanted to breathe fresh air and meet new people. And so, as I drifted off to sleep, I let my mind create a world in which I wasn’t the princess of a powerful kingdom and I wasn’t expected to marry a man twice my age. I built a world where anything was possible—where I could do and be anything I wanted.
The next few weeks passed in a flurry of busyness. The entire household was in an uproar as they prepared for the massive number of guests they would be receiving. Mother was in a tizzy, ensuring there was enough food, drinks, and beds. The castle had no shortage of rooms—with three stories, four wings jutting out like the four points of the compass, and well over forty rooms, including a library, study, ball room, dining hall, three sitting rooms, male and female bathing suites, and staff quarters, there was plenty of space. I personally thought our castle was a bit much. I’d always gotten lost in it when I was exploring as a little girl, and still did from time to time.
Myself, Dayna, and my other sister, Lizzy, took quiet pleasure in watching our mum flit about, looking as though she were doing some bizarre dance and the staff around her were her unwitting ensemble. We often found ourselves sitting in the center-most chamber, which housed doors on all sides, so we could watch from the best vantage point when we weren’t being pressed into service ourselves. Father had the infuriating captain follow me around like a faithful mutt, making sure I couldn’t run off again. At one point, I had Lidia distract him just so I could have use the ladies’ privy in privacy. Perhaps he thought I’d figure out some way to climb out a window and scale down the side of the castle wall. But, if I got desperate enough, I might figure out a way to do just that.
“How many times do you think Mother will tell the cook that the king of Tara cannot eat potatoes because they do not agree with him?”
“At least another dozen.” Lizzy chuckled. “The better question is how many more times will the cook listen before she makes an entire menu based on potatoes just to irritate Mother?”
Silvia, or Cook, as they called her, was not known for her patience, but she was the best cook in the kingdom and, therefore, got away with quite a bit. Father and Mother, and everyone else for that matter, knew better than to annoy her or they’d be eating boiled cabbage stew for a month.
“I wonder what happens when King Cathal eats potatoes?” I inquired.
“Maybe his face swells up like a huge squash and he cannot breathe,” Lizzy, who tended to be the bloodthirsty one of the group, offered.
“Does everything have to end in death with you?” Dayna asked her.
Lizzy shrugged. “Like any of us would be sad if the old king kicked the bucket. It would make for an entertaining evening, and we would get our sister back.”
I stifled my laugh. We may have been the ladies of the court and kingdom, but ladylike we were not.
“I do not want the poor man to die because of some potato mishap,” I quickly said, knowing I would feel dreadful if Lizzy’s words came to pass. “I do not want to marry him, but nor do I want him dead. I just wish he and Father could find another way to make an alliance.”
“Do not hold your breath, dear Sister,” Lizzy said with a sigh. “Kings are not known for their creative thinking.”
Per our mother’s insistence, each of my sisters and I were working on various projects that apparently were important for a well-rounded young woman to know. I was doing needle work, Lizzy was reading, and Dayna was penning a letter to an aunt we hadn’t seen in ages, but to whom Mother felt it important to keep in touch. We were sitting in the main lounge where we typically accepted guests. It had the best vantage point for watching the general chaos that had become our home. Growing bored with the needlework I’d been meticulously pouring over for the past month, I set it down and stood to stretch. The captain, who’d been standing in the far-right corner of the room, pushed away from the wall, ever alert. I ground my teeth together as I attempted to keep the sharp remark growing in my mind to myself. It wouldn’t do to have the eldest princess telling the captain of the guard to take his nose and put it somewhere that never saw the light of day. “I need fresh air,” I told my sisters. “With all the staff hustling about, it is beginning to feel stuffy in here.”
Dayna set down her pen, pushed the letter to the side, and put the paperweight on top, no doubt to keep it from getting blown off in all the hustle. She stood up eagerly, her eyes dancing with mischief. She was so much like me, always ready for an adventure. Lizzy shook her head. She’d always preferred being indoors, claiming she and dirt did not coexist well and it would not be wise to test the strains of the relationship. Yes, she really did say that.
“I don’t want to have to wash up again after smelling like dirt,” Lizzy huffed. “And I’m tired. I have not been sleeping well.” She looked up at me, and I could see the pity in her eyes.
“Don’t lose sleep over me, love,” I told her as I placed a hand on her shoulder. “I will be all right. It will all work out.”
“How can you be so bloody positive?” Lizzy yelled. I did not correct her foul language. It would not have helped, anyway.