Clarissa, Crown Princess of the Kingdom of Brethonia, was
not the biggest fan of parties. Too many drunk noblemen convinced
that they were the Divine’s gift to all women. Too many social
niceties that she had to keep track of for diplomatic reasons. And
far too few excuses for her to avoid wearing a corset.
But, there were certain occasions when she simply couldn’t
avoid attending a party. The celebration of an armistice with the
Kingdom of Wethage was the sort of event the Crown Princess
was expected to attend. If for no other reason than to reinforce the
fiction that there were no lingering grudges between their people.
So, Princess Clarissa was clad in her elegant red silks and
posture-stiffening corset. She sipped at her wine and did her best to
pretend that she didn’t feel a growing urge to throw the Wethagian
delegation out of a window. At the moment, Duke Siegfried of
Hermage, a Wethagian general, was droning on in her ear. Something
about horse breeding? She hadn’t really been paying attention.
“I suppose I can show you the mare when I return from
campaigning,” he said.
Clarissa was suddenly much more interested in what he
was saying. “Campaigning?” she asked, careful to keep her voice
consistent with her established tone of vague polite interest.
“We are riding north into the mountains,” the Duke
explained. “Going to deal with those dragon-riding barbarians.”
“I wish you luck,” Clarissa lied.
“Thank you,” he said obliviously. “Their leader is quite the
fearsome brute. A towering hulk of a figure, though dwarfed by the
terrifying red dragon he is always astride.”
Clarissa did her best not to preen and simply said, “Sounds
dangerous.”
“It is, but it must be done. You should reinforce your own
borders,” he advised. “Our assault may drive some of their stragglers
into your lands.”
“You should speak with my father on that matter,” Clarissa
said while feigning an airy distraction. “I don’t know much about
military matters.”
“Maybe when I return from wiping them out, you and I
can continue negotiating a friendly settlement to our minor border
dispute,” he said with an attempt at a suave smile.
Clarissa did not see his smile. At the words “minor border
dispute” her mind flashed to memories. The searing heat of a village
as it burned. The acrid smell of rotting bodies as they lay piled in
the fields. The gurgling cry of a young boy calling for his mother
while bleeding to death. Clarissa’s desire to throw the Duke out of
a window intensified.
However, her diplomatic training was victorious over her
instincts. As much as she hated the way he was so dismissive of the
war between their countries, she simply gave a bland smile and said,
“of course.” With a polite farewell, she stepped away from the Duke
and mingled back into the crowd.
Clarissa quickly downed the rest of her wine and handed the
goblet off to a servant. It wouldn’t do for her to accidentally crush
perfectly innocent silver in her anger. Her search for something
to distract her was only partially successful; She happened upon
Vanessa, one of her handmaidens, trapped between a table and a
knight’s ego.
Sir George was rambling on about how he had bravely
defended Castle Belanglos during the war. Clarissa could only
roll her eyes. If she recalled correctly, Castle Belanglos was little
more than a supply camp with a dozen men and some palisades
protecting it from raiders. The latest intelligence report that she had
seen said that no Wethagian troops ever got within a 2 day march
of the place.
The princess considered embarrassing the knight by asking
more pointed questions about the mudhole he had garrisoned
when something gave her pause. Vanessa held her hands carefully
clasped behind her back out of the knight’s sight. There, her
fingernails were slowly elongating into talons and scarlet scales
crept their way across her hands to disappear into the deep maroon
folds of her sleeves.
“Excuse me, good knight,” Clarissa interrupted. “I’m
afraid I must steal my handmaiden away to aid me with some…
womanly matters.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” they both responded. Sir George
looked a bit disappointed but did not protest. Vanessa, however,
eagerly shot to Clarissa’s side and allowed herself to be led away. At
the princess’s lead, they ascended the spiraling staircase into one of
the castle’s towers.
“Thank you for rescuing me, Your Highness,” Vanessa said
as soon as they were out of earshot.
“I’m not sure if I saved you from the knight or the knight
from you.” At Vanessa’s questioning look, Clarissa leaned in and
whispered, “Your scales were starting to show, it wouldn’t do to
allow you to complete the process.”
Vanessa shook her head, energetically enough to shake a lock
of hair loose from the bun it was tied in. “I would never allow myself
to dishonor Your Highness by losing my temper in such a manner.”
“I don’t know,” Clarissa said with a smirk. “I’ve made great
use of your anger in the past.”
Vanessa smiled sweetly. “Allowing you to wield my anger
as a sword, in one form or another, is hardly the same as losing my
temper. If anything, it requires that I maintain control of my temper
more firmly than ever.”
Clarissa let out a soft laugh and bowed slightly to concede
the point. The two then arrived at the royal bed chambers. Clarissa
ushered Vanessa inside and then barred the door behind her. Vanessa
closed her eyes and walked the edge of the room, taking in a series
of shallow breaths through her nose.
Clarissa’s eyes followed her handmaiden as she passed the
features of the small room. A tapestry showing her lineage. A
window overlooking the keep’s courtyard. A four-poster bedframe
draped in silken sheets. An armoire displaying gold jewelry. A
closet where Clarissa knew her “hulking” suit of armor sat hidden
from view.
“We are free of spies, Your Highness,” Vanessa declared
when she finished her circuit. “Have you learned anything worth
discussing, or are we simply hiding from Sir George?”
Clarissa let out a very unladylike snort. “Not simply hiding.
Duke Siegfried will be leading a force into the Northern Mountains
to hunt the dragon riders.”
“How treacherous,” Vanessa said in a complete deadpan.
“Those mountains have many narrow passes. Many places a
forewarned dragon rider might stage an ambush.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Clarissa said with a smile. “I trust
you can make the necessary arrangements?”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Vanessa paused. “Is there anything
else you require, or should I begin preparations immediately?”
Clarissa studied her face intently but didn’t say anything.
Her eyes trailed to the loose lock of hair framing the side of
Vanessa’s cheek. Vanessa began to flush slightly under the attention.
Absentmindedly, a forked tongue snaked its way out of Vanessa’s
mouth. Her tongue reached up across her cheek and tucked the
loose lock of hair behind her ear.
Clarissa glanced in the direction of the bed. “I suppose there
is one other task you can perform first.”
The flush on Vanessa’s cheeks was joined by the brighter
red color of scales appearing from beneath the collar of her dress.
“Your Highness is feeling… territorial then? Shall I help you with
your dress?”
“Of course,” Clarissa said, and turned around to expose her
laces. After a moment, she spoke again. “I have half a mind to give
Sir George command of a front-line unit. Let the knight earn his
tales of bravery.”
“That would be a waste, Your Highness,” Vanessa said as she
began to unravel the lacing on the princess’s dress. “The man is a
supply officer through and through.”
“So defensive. You understand that I am not accustomed to
leaving rivals of any kind.”
Vanessa finished with the lacing on the dress and peeled the
silk from the princess’s shoulders. “Perhaps introduce him to Lady
Margret. She has expressed interest in acquiring a husband.”
“She has also expressed interest in entering these bed chambers.”
“Has she?” Vanessa asked as she started on the lacing of the
corset. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You would remove one rival with another.” When she didn’t
receive a response, Clarissa continued, “I suppose I could introduce
the two. Consider yourself as having saved Sir George.”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
“Such deviousness,” Clarissa drawled. “Wherever did you
learn such a thing?”
“From your astute tutelage, Your Highness,” Vanessa said.
“After all, you have always told me that all is fair in love and war.”
The literary magazine of Hagerstown Community College