The Pauper Princess

The next morning, Mehta had some clothing brought in from the recovered wagons. The clothes I had been wearing for the past few weeks were irreparable, so I picked a simple green frock. After dressing, we follow our noses to the dining area for a late morning meal. My stomach rumbles in anticipation of a meal after going so long without one, and even before that subsisting on only stew and dried vegetables. This morning’s meal, however, consisted of roasted pork, eggs, toast with jam, a bowl of fresh fruit and hot cider. I reveled in the flavors of something other than stew and bread.

We sat alone at a long table in the dining room. Everyone else had eaten several hours ago. After eating my fill, I convinced Mehta to take a walk with me. The inn where we were staying was quaint, but I don’t like being stuck inside. The healer consented to me leaving the inn, but she still wouldn’t let me go anywhere on my own. I wanted to stretch my legs a bit, and my eyes were anxious to explore all this little village had to offer.

She eventually relented when I promised it would only be a brief stroll, so we bundled up against the morning chill with woolen shawls. As I stepped out into the cold morning, I had a sudden longing to be wearing pants again. The cold breeze blew up my legs, causing me to shiver.

“Maybe we should go back,” Mehta suggested.

“No,” I insisted, “I’m tired of the inn.” We spent the whole of yesterday afternoon and evening roaming the inn while I worked my unused muscles, but it was very dull staying inside all day after having spent the past few weeks completely outside.

“Alright, but this is only a short stroll, right?”

“Of course.”

Less than an hour later, we came to the realization that this self-sufficient farming community had little to offer. Wandering through the few streets of farmer’s huts had been depressing. The small, indistinguishable huts and vast fields of maize and wheat were as dull as could be, so we returned to the inn with nothing but goosebumps and muddied shoes to show for our walk. We decided to retire to my room with a stack of books from the inn’s small library.

After an hour of local legends and myths, I grew bored. Sitting at the windowsill, I stared out over the town. A same red dot on the horizon catches my attention, and I watch as it slowly gets closer. After a few minutes, I realize it’s a carriage with a brilliantly painted red roof. It continues to approach slowly. When it reaches the sight of people in the streets, a sudden flurry of activity begins. The people are apparently unaccustomed to seeing such carriages, and they form a crowd on the sides of the road as the coach pulls into town.

A man dressed in fine emerald clothing steps out of the carriage holding a scroll in one hand. He speaks to a nearby villager, who in turn gestures towards the inn. The visitor looks to the inn and immediately sets out toward it. I watch him hastily enter and wonder about his purpose in coming here.

Shortly after the arrival of the man, someone knocks at the door. I carefully stand from the window and open the door to see Ekohl and Calin, one of the other Kyshian guards. Ekohl indicates a piece of parchment and nods toward Mehta. I nod and step back, allowing both to enter the room.

“Your Highness,” Ekohl begins, “this letter has just arrived from the King of Lequin.” Mehta looks up from her reading, and Ekohl continues: “It was delayed in coming to us. The King sends word that there is an escort on its way to accompany us to the palace. We would have had a few days notice if this came on time, but as it stands the escort should be arriving some time tomorrow.”

“How is Shrateh?” Mehta asked slowly, sliding a bookmark into place and setting aside the book she had been reading for the past half hour.

“His leg is healing, your highness, but it’s still difficult for him to walk,” Calin answers.

“Is he well enough to ride a horse?”

“What did you have in mind, Princess?” Ekohl interrupts.

“Shrateh and Calin should return to Kyshia to inform my father of the attack. He is no doubt planning to travel here for the ceremony under a similar state of meager protection. He must be warned.”

“Very well, Princess. Calin, prepare to leave by morning.”

“Yes, sir.” Calin quickly left to pack and inform Shrateh of their new assignment. I wondered at the fact that Calin had taken orders so easily from a man nearly half his age, but Mehta interrupted my thoughts.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Mehta and Ekohl were both staring at me meaningfully. “With Shrateh and Calin gone,” Mehta continued, “You could-“

“No.” I understood what they wanted to know now. “I don’t want to switch back.” Mehta nodded, but she looked unsure still. “It will be fine. No one from Lequin has ever seen me. They won’t know that I’m the princess.”

“I know, but what about your father?” I considered this for a moment.

“Perhaps Calin could warn my father against traveling here at all,” I mused.

“I know your father,” Ekohl interrupted, “well enough to know that he is unlikely to recognize one face from another, and he hasn’t seen either of you for nearly a month now. I don’t believe he would notice anything amiss.”

“That’s true.” It is only on rare occasion that my father and I spend any amount of time with each other, and he would attribute any differences in appearance to travel and time. “It’s settled then,” I stated. “We proceed as before. Nothing’s changed.”