Ginny Hartman (2 page)

Dismayed, her mother snapped in a strained voice, "I fail to see a single ounce of humor in this situation and beg you to stop taunting me this instant."

Rosalind tried to squelch her giggles. "But mother, your tendency to overreact is reaching new heights. You sounded like the fabled walarutes that roam the forests bordering Darth when you just screamed. It was truly the most hideous sound I've ever heard come from a living thing, man or beast."

For a split second Rosalind was sure her mother was about to favor them with an encore performance, but was saved when her father rushed into the hall. "What is going on? Has somebody been hurt?" Her father's concerned look settled briefly on his wife before turning and looking at his only daughter standing next to his only son. "Rosalind, your dress is ruined."

She casually looked down at the hem of her skirt and, for the first time, noticed several tears in the fabric. They must have occurred during her hurried dash back to the castle. "Yes father," she said as she favored him with her most engaging smile, "tis also replaceable."

Her father shook his head back and forth, his thick, gray hair skimming his shoulders as he moved. "Whatever will I do with you, child?"

Her mother stepped forward then, anger still etched on her normally lovely face. "Regrettably there is not any time for punishment. We must get you ready for tonight or you'll be late for your own entrance."

Heaven forbid
, Rosalind thought.

“Colin,” her father's voice was firm, as he turned his attention to her brother. “You are not yet finished with your studies.”

Colin puffed out his chest and stood up as tall as his nine year old frame allowed. “Tis not fair that I have to study while Rosalind gets to run about the kingdom at her leisure. I'd much rather be playing outdoors then be cooped up learning useless, boring gibberish.”

Their mother paused long enough to glare coolly at her son. “Go.” The one-word command seemed to do the trick, for Colin was wise enough to know not to mess with their mother when she was in one of her moods. And thanks to Rosalind's inopportune absence, she most definitely was in one.

Rosalind dutifully followed her mother, who had turned and was walking briskly down the hall. She had been dreading this day for as long as she could remember. While most of her female cousins had spent their whole lives anticipating this grand event, this customary rite of passage, she had been thoroughly dreading it. It was the night she would be presented to her uncle, the High King of Darth, to seek his approval to enter into womanhood, or in other words, to be proclaimed before the entire Kingdom as eligible for marriage.

As part of the rituals, she would be required to dance the Saylatee, the traditional feminine dance, in front of everyone at court before bowing herself before the High King and humbly asking his permission to enter womanhood. She had spent countless hours being trained on the techniques of the

Saylatee, being forced to practice until she knew the steps so well she was sure she could perform them in her sleep. Her mother had pounded the importance of perfect deliverance of the dance in her head since she was just a wee girl, reminding her repetitively that, if the steps weren't performed to perfection, her entrance would be denied. She was more than half-tempted to mess up the dance for that very purpose. Tradition stated that if that were to happen, she'd have to wait a full year to attempt the feat once more.

She knew from past experience that her Uncle Cedric was fairly lenient on his idea of perfection. She had seen many of her cousins stumble slightly, most likely because of nerves, and yet he didn't hesitate to grant them entrance. The only exception being her cousin Tavia, whom of course wasn't his own daughter, but belonged to his second brother Lawrence, the lesser king of the Southeast Territory. The poor girl had been awkward since birth, seeming to possess an inordinate amount of clumsiness, and that unfortunate trait, mixed with the nerves commonly experienced at such an event, led to a performance so horridly embarrassing that Rosalind couldn't think about it, even now, without feeling uncomfortable. No one could fault her uncle for denying the girl entrance, and Rosalind was sure that the whole of the male population of Darth was grateful for his denial as well. Poor Tavia.

"Hurry along child, or your hair will never be dry in time." Her mother's voice brought her back to the present, as she realized they were already to her chambers. The servants had brought in a large wooden tub and were furiously filling it with buckets of steaming water. Soon the job was finished and the servants had all departed, leaving her and her mother alone to begin the elaborate preparations for the night’s festivities.

Rosalind wasted no time ridding herself of the heavy velvet gown, stripping it from her person and discarding it carelessly on the floor. She eagerly walked to the tub, reaching one hand down to swirl the rose petals that were floating on top of the water, before gingerly placing one toe in, testing the temperature, before fully submersing herself into the water’s warm cocoon. She propped her head on the back of the tub, easing her body into the full depths of the water. She suddenly realized how exhausted she was and allowed her eyes to drift shut. She wanted nothing more than to sleep but her mother was right behind her, pushing her head into the water causing all thoughts of sleep to flee as she quickly inhaled a breath of air, holding it as her face was submersed completely in the water.

As soon as her mother's grip loosened, she bobbed to the surface and inhaled. "Can't I relax for a moment before you attempt to drown me?"

"You had all day to relax." Rosalind rolled her eyes and was grateful that her mother couldn't see her antics.

What she had envisioned as a long, relaxing bath was cut short by her mother's hurried motions. In less time than it took the servants to fill the tub, she was washed, dried, and now sitting in a chair before the fire as her mother brushed her waist length hair. The silence grew thick between them, and Rosalind was surprised her mother wasn't taking the opportunity to prattle off last minute advice and threats on her night’s performance.

The long, repetitive strokes of the brush were soothing. Since as long as she could remember, Rosalind had always loved the simple joy of having her hair dressed, and tonight was no exception. It relaxed her, causing her scalp to tingle with pleasure. Her mother hummed softly in the background, seeming as relaxed by the chore as Rosalind was herself.

When her hair was nearly dry, her mother instructed her to rise, as she fluttered towards the bed to retrieve her gown. The dressing was nearly as ritualistic as the dance. Both of them remained silent as her mother dressed her for the first time as a woman would dress. After slipping into a thin chemise, her mother laced her into a corset that had been custom designed to fit her slender frame. The white linen hugged her body like a second skin, that is, until her mother began to vigorously tighten the laces in the back of the bodice, forcing her breasts nearly up to her chin and her lungs into her throat.

"Is this contraption really necessary?" she asked breathlessly.

Her mother answered her with an annoyed look before slipping her dress over her head. The customary white dress was made of the finest of silk, feeling luxurious against her smooth skin. The bodice fit snugly over her torso and hips before belling out slightly around her legs. The sleeves covered her entire arm coming to a point at the top of her hands, a thin gold thread looping around her middle finger to keep the sleeve in place. She reached down to smooth the delicate silk of her skirt as her mother moved behind her to drape a sash woven of the finest gold thread low on her hips, tying it in an elegant knot at her waist, the tails of the sash falling nearly to the ground.

Stepping back, her mother proclaimed, "Oh sweet Rosalind, you are a vision."

Reaching one hand up to twist in her thick, brown locks, Rosalind replied, "Not quite yet; there's still the matter of my hair to attend to."

"You could have no hair whatsoever and you'd still be the prettiest girl in the kingdom."

Rosalind giggled. "Mother, you are biased."

"That may be true, but I know there are many that would agree with me. Just you wait and see; I don't think it'll take long for you to make a match."

Rosalind's shoulders sagged with the reminder of what this night was truly about. "Is this all necessary, Mother? Aren't I still too young to worry about such things?"

"You are ten and eight years of age, the age that every young woman seeks her entrance." Then, exhaling a wearied breath, her mother continued, "We've been over this at least a dozen times and the answers are all the same. As daughter of the Lesser King of the Southwestern Territory, you are not only expected to make your entrance as soon as the time permits, you are expected to make an advantageous match as well, and quickly."

Rosalind threw herself heedlessly into the chair. "But mother, do you truly believe it to be that simple? As if by magic, I will meet the right man for me as soon as I am granted my entrance? I do not like the pressure put upon me by all of these expectations. I don't want to marry simply because I feel the pressure to do so as daughter of a king. And besides, I'm not ready for marriage." She voiced the last statement after folding her arms indignantly across her chest, as if it would somehow help her get her point across.

When her mother spoke her voice was sharp, "Would you rather your father and I had betrothed you to somebody you don't even know? That's how it was done not so long ago, and that's how it was done for me. Don't you think I would have been grateful for the opportunity to have a say in my own future, to have had a chance to marry someone I loved?"

Rosalind eyes widened at her mother's admission. "But don't you love father?"

"Of course I do—now. But to be frank with you, initially our marriage was an arrangement by our parents and nothing else. I'm simply letting you know that you should be grateful that your uncle, King Cedric, saw fit to change that tradition and that you will have some say in your future. If only he would have been so courteous to change the law when I pleaded with him to do so, things would have been very different for me.”

She was momentarily caught off guard by the bitterness that she could hear in her mother's voice. “What do you mean?” she asked hesitantly, not sure if she was prepared for the answer.

“Just because my father had already arranged my marriage, it didn't mean I was without feelings, without dreams. I had the grave misfortune of falling in love with a man I could never wed. I foolishly thought that, if only I brought the matter to King Cedric's attention, he would change things, allow me out of the contract my father had made promising me to your father. I was wrong. He refused to break the arrangement and the wedding went on as planned. It was like a knife had been twisted into my heart when only a short while later he changed the custom, allowing a woman a say in whom she wed. You have no idea just how grateful you should be that your fate will not be what mine was.”

The reminder of how things used to be humbled Rosalind. For the first time in her life she felt a strange sense of pity directed towards her mother. Maybe having been forbidden to wed the man she had loved was the cause of her underlying unhappiness. Feeling contrite she muttered, “You're right, Mother. I will promise not to complain of my circumstances any further.” And though she promised not to complain, she never once promised that she'd like it.

Chapter 3

The Princess's Entrance

Rosalind stood solemnly in the corridor leading into the great hall. Her physical transformation into a woman had been completed, as her mother had finished carefully coiffing her hair. Two small braids were pinned back on either side of her face, while the rest of her hair cascaded down her back in long, sable locks. Next, her mother had woven a slender, gold ribbon intricately through each braid, finishing it off with the addition of several small sprigs of jasmine.

Standing by herself waiting to be announced, she couldn't help but feel nervous. She didn't want to be on display, as all eyes would carefully watch her every move—some hoping for her to make an error so they could secretly gloat about it later, and some, her parents included, anxious for her to perform the Saylatee perfectly.

Taking a deep, steadying breath she moved guardedly down the corridor, and as she did so, a strange sensation began to occur. A calming warmth poured over her, causing her arms to relax as her balled up fists unwound at her sides. She felt herself stand a little taller, as her eyes focused on shimmering wisps of incandescent color twisting and flickering towards her. It seemed as if the same strange spell that had woven itself over her earlier had returned and was working its magic on her now.

But this time, she noted as the whirls of color danced closer, she didn't feel ill or fatigued at all, she felt alive. A strange confidence washed over her as the wisps breathed over her, ever so lightly winding themselves into every fiber of her being. She didn't have long to ponder on the strange occurrence, as she heard the announcement being made that it was time for her to make her entrance. The thick, wood doors were pushed open with a flourish, and she confidently, almost excitedly, stepped into the great hall.

***

Terric de Valle's stomach rumbled in response to the enticing scent of roasted meat he could smell wafting in the air. Looking longingly at the bowl of fruit in front of him, he wished it wouldn't be considered poor form to reach out and pluck that beguiling plum from the bowl and sink his teeth into its juicy fruit. Folding his arms across his chest to keep them from reaching out, he leaned back in his chair and glanced around the room.

A wooden table was situated at the top of the great hall on the dais, a raised platform where only the highest of nobles sat. Sitting in the center was the High King, of whom Terric was lead defender. His sole responsibility in life was to defend the king, to protect him at all costs. His quick thinking and fierce loyalty had been an asset in gaining the position he had sought since he was but a wee lad.