The Pauper Princess

In a short time, we enter the woods where, several miles away, Mehta and I had conversed late into the night only a few hours prior. The Fresian Forest covers nearly the whole of Kyshia’s borders, and much of its land. Only two cities in all of Kyshia are more than half a day’s ride from the great forest. Much of our journey to Lequin would be spent under the boughs of these stately trees.

Within an hour, we reached one of the many army outposts near the capital city. Wagons and a carriage were brought here several days ago, loaded with all the luggage and provisions that we would need. My father had planned this stop so the farewell procession would be lighthearted, joyous, and unhindered by the reality of the lengthy trip to Lequin.

As we came to a stop in the center of the enclosure, several of the soldiers came to assist us. Mehta dismounted from behind one of the guards right away, but I, with my cumbersome clothing, had to wait for help. One of the older soldiers assisted me, and then informed us that we would spend the night here. Mehta and I were passed off to a young stable boy, who led us to the grandest quarters of the outpost. On any normal day, the captain who runs this camp would occupy these rooms, but to accommodate the princess he willingly gave them up. The boy led us in near silence, merely informing us of the adjoined bathhouse before taking his leave.

Once left to our own devices, Mehta and I decided it was time to enact our plan. The sooner we switched places, the less chance there would be of someone noticing, so after a luxurious bath, we donned each other’s clothing. I chose a simple pale blue cotton dress from my own wardrobe for my role as a servant. Since Mehta’s presence had not been planned by my father, there were no garments suitable for a servant. We both agreed that it was excusable for the princess to offer some of her own clothing to her dear friend.

I had Mehta wear a practical, but elaborate, gown of navy and silver silk. I helped her braid and pin her hair into a neat bun, and we inspected each other’s handiwork. A quiet knock came at the door, and I pushed Mehta toward it. She gave me a nervous look before reaching for the latch.

“Yes?” she said. I thought I could hear her voice wavering, but hoped that it was only my imagination. The stable boy from earlier stepped forward a bit and bowed.

“I was sent to tell you that supper will be served shortly.” The boy never once looked Mehta in the eyes, and he remained with his head bowed even after he straightened his back.

“Thank you,” Mehta said sweetly. She then reached out and laid her hand on the boy’s shoulder, causing the poor boy to flinch violently as I bit back any remarks. As a general rule, a member of the royal family never touched a servant. Such an act wasn’t quite disgraceful, but it was highly frowned upon. The boy looked to me and I could see he was quite startled. I smiled and told him to run along, which he did without a single glance back.

“I’m sorry,” Mehta said quietly once the door was securely closed.

“It’s alright,” I assured. “I was sure the poor boy was going to die of shock.” Mehta blushed and pushed me playfully.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Mehta mumbled, tugging on the hem of her sleeve nervously.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll just have to practice. After dinner we’ll work on that, but for now just try not to talk to- or touch- anyone.”