ERICIA SLOWS THE long lacy sleeves of her peach coloured
evening gown over her shoulders and adjusts the bust of the dress
over her chest. She isn’t a fan of wearing fitted dresses –especially
when she has open wounds that are agitated by the uncomfortable
fabric regardless of them being dressed, but her mother insisted
that she should make more of an effort for tonight’s dinner than
she usually would.
When Ericia is ready, she slips into a pair of low heels. No one
would be seeing her feet under the long mermaid tail of the dress
anyway. After this, she calls her maids in and they begin the
process of applying makeup onto her face and styling her hair into
a beautiful up-do.
Ericia strolls through the corridors in silence, her maids trailing
loosely behind her. She sighs, clasping her hands together and
resting them just under her tummy in formality as she continues
walking. She reaches the grand dining room, hearing the laughter
12
of her father roaring from wall to wall –Prince Rowan must have
said a joke.
Princess Ericia sucks in a breath and pulls herself together,
walking into the room. King Charles doesn’t end his fit of
laughter when he spots her. Ericia looks among the only people in
the room –King Charles, Queen Olivia and Prince Rowan, who
were accompanied by one other person –a person Ericia could
easily identify as a familiar Lystotian messenger.
Ericia bows lowly. Prince Rowan stands and walks towards her,
offering her a bright smile.
“You’re just in time,” he says, extending a hand, the other
behind his back. “Your father and I have only begun our
discussion. I sense that dinner will be promising.”
Ericia takes Rowan’s hand, being guided to the seat just opposite
to him at the long, rectangular dinner table.
Dinner passes slowly –too slowly for Ericia. She doesn’t poke at
her food or shift in her seat, nor does she say anything out of the
character of a perfect princess. She eats as though she is strong
enough to hold her four course meal, but she would only throw it
all up before bed later. She smiles as though she has never known
sadness, but she would only be left restless and depressed with
red, swollen eyes, later.
Later, she would say to herself, over and over again. Later. Later.
Later.
13
“If I may, Your Majesty,” Prince Rowan says to King Charles,
suddenly drawing the attention of the Princess who seemed
distant minded for a moment. “Is it too much to request a private
stroll after dinner with the lovely Princess?”
King Charles studies Prince Rowan with an indecipherable
expression plastered over his face for only moments before he
grins. “Oh, Rowan, you didn’t have to ask.” King Charles laughs
as he turns to Queen Olivia, “I like him, Olivia. He’s quite old-
fashioned unlike many of the youth of today.”
“I feel more comfortable having the permission of my elders. I
do believe that what elders think should have a tremendous
amount of influence on the growing and modernizing society. The
once social ‘quacks’ are now geniuses developing technology with
electricity or integrating it into our kingdom lives with the
permission of elders with faith and trust. The average person’s life
is beginning to seem much easier thanks to the opportunity given
to technology advancement. Perhaps one day we will follow the
rest of the world, using fewer carriages and more cars. Our elders
have established such great kingdoms and societies and what a
waste it would be of time and energy to watch it all fall at the fault
of youth who strive for nothing or believe they can rely on
themselves.”
“We definitely chose the right lad for our daughter,” says King
Charles to the Queen.
Queen Olivia smiles at her husband before turning to Rowan.
She knows well enough to go along with the act Charles is putting
on. “We certainly have.”
14
“Is it alright with you, Ericia?” Prince Rowan asks, turning to
the Princess.
Ericia, at the mention of her name, stumbles out of her short
absence in the conversation. “Huh?” She blinks, staring directly at
Rowan. A mere moment of silence fills the dinner table. Ericia
suddenly knows she has made a mistake.
“Is it alright with you if I take you for a walk after dinner?”
Rowan asks.
“Oh,” she says, chuckling, “Of course, Rowan. I would be
honoured.” Ericia knows that if she turns to look at her father
now, she would see the look of trouble brewing in his eyes. She
avoids turning in his direction for as long as she can. “In fact,” she
says, in an attempt to do so, “If you’d be interested in my
suggestion, Your Highness, there is something I have in mind for
us to do.”
Prince Rowan raises his brows, intrigued. “Do tell,” he says,
urging her on.
“I would love to show you around the palace,” Ericia says, in
her most precious, innocent tone. “There’s a beautiful garden that
you’ve yet to rediscover. I’m sure you may have forgotten about
it –after all, you haven’t been here for ages.”
Prince Rowan sits up straighter and gleams. “Sounds delightful.
I’m in.”
With that, the conversation takes a turn into a cycle of subjects
Ericia had heard way too many times before. It started with
15
Politics, somehow landed in Finances, and then her father went
off into a whole city of recycled jokes to which Prince Rowan
responded with his own, leaving King Charles breathless after all
the laughter.
After dinner, Princess Ericia takes Prince Rowan by the hand
and they walk outside into the cool night together.
***
“Ericia,” Rowan says, staring out at the city in the distantVynier land.
“Yes?” she replies.
“Are you alright?”
Ericia is taken aback by this question. “Alright? What do you
mean?”
“I know that my coming here may have been a bit sudden,” he
says. “Do I make you feel awkward? If so, I’m truly sorry.”
“Oh,” she says, “No, no no. It’s fine, Rowan. I’m alright, yes,
I’m... I’m alright.”
Lies, she thinks to herself. Honestly, I feel stifled. I almost want to
die.
“It’s just that you seemed a bit absent minded at dinner. Is
something bothering you?” Rowan asks, turning to her.
16
Ericia looks up at the Prince. He’s tall enough that he can shade
her completely from any light behind him. He’s tall enough that
she has to tilt her head a bit too high most of the time to look up
at him directly unless she stands at a calculated distance. Rowan,
she decides, is only almost perfect. Rowan, she decides, is only
almost everything. Of course, she shakes this thought aside with
the excuse that Rowan has only been with her for the evening. She
had no doubts that she would grow to love him by the end of his
stay –after which he would probably return to Lystotia to plan the
wedding with his parents and then once again return to her.
“Maybe I’m just a bit under the weather,” she says, gathering
an excuse for her slight misconduct at dinner. “I’m great. I
promise. I don’t feel awkward around you at all. You actually
have a comforting presence. It’s something I could get used to.”
Rowan almost blushes. He stares ahead again, unable to look at
the beautiful princess.
***
Ericia walks into the open courtyard of the palace to find Rowanpracticing his fencing just minutes after six in the morning. He’s
covered in sweat, his loose, white, silk shirt is soaked, but it’s not
sticking to his body. Ericia can see his muscles –how defined they
are, and his chest, bare, shows through the unbuttoned areas at
the top of the shirt.
She claps after Rowan has finished practicing his fencing enough
to be out of breath. Rowan drops the sword, bending forward and
holding his knees for a moment to relax.
17
“How long have you been standing there?” he asks her.
“Long enough to know a hunk of salted meat when I see one,”
she says.
Rowan laughs. “I’m a hunk of salted meat?”
“It’s just a joke,” Ericia says, smiling and walking over to him,
“I do hope you know that.” She reaches down and picks up the
sword, her pair of pajama shorts showing under her oversized
wool sweater.
“Were you taught Fencing?” Rowan asks her, surprised.
“Of course,” she says, holding the sword tightly. She stares at
the sharp blade, almost shuddering as the sound of a slice crosses
her mind, sending a chill up her spine. “I’m a princess. I must
know how to defend myself and protect others.”
“I would have believed that your father would be the protective
one,” Rowan says, “You seem like the type to be protected, not
the type doing the protecting.”
Ericia forgot in her haste to speak and her love for Fencing that
she was supposed to be practicing her perfect princess act. She
sighs, deciding that there’s no going back now, but that she would
not take the truth too far.
“I was stubborn enough to be able to acquire the education and
practice of as many defensive arts as possible, but of course, it’s
always nice to feel and be protected by others,” she says.
18
“I always wanted someone I’d be able to protect –entirely –
someone I’d give my life to save, perhaps,” Rowan says, moving
up behind her and taking her hand that’s holding the sword. “I
suppose even with a Princess who knows the game, I can do the
saving.”
Rowan’s free hand reaches around Ericia’s waist and squeezes
gently. She glances behind her to look up at him. This was a
gesture that would make Ericia uncomfortable. She had not asked
him to touch her. She did not want him to touch her, but he had.
She knows that it was not the move of someone like her father,
but even so, she becomes lost to the situation around her as her
mind takes her deep into thoughts of past terrors. Ericia looks up
at the Prince standing right behind her, his chest touching her
back, both skin and skin only separated by their layers of clothes.
Ericia smiles. She will not allow the horrors in her head to
interfere with her act.
Rowan will not harm me, she thinks to herself. All I have to do is
keep this up. He is not my father. He is not a monster.
***
Ericia soaks in vanilla scented bath water, peacefully ignorant ofthe raucous existing outside of her room walls. Maids and court
men and women scurry about for whatever meeting the king is
about to hold. It’s a meeting she wasn’t invited to, which is
something that tends to happen half the time, even though she’s
fully aware that she should be there to hear the boring politics.
19
There’s a knock on the door of her bathroom, accompanied by a
soft voice. “Your Highness?”
“Yes, Avie,” Ericia replies. “What is it?”
“I’ve got some news. May I come in?”
Ericia suddenly panics. “Give me a few moments, I’ll be right
out.”
She grabs her towel from the silver stand nearby and wraps
herself inside it, drying her feet on the bathroom mat near the
entrance door. She takes a beautiful, knee-length sundress off of a
clothes hanger on the stand and slips into it, practically jumping
into her underwear and bra before adjusting the thick straps of the
dress over her shoulders and slipping her hands through a white,
long-sleeved bolero jacket.
She walks out of the bathroom, barefooted, and finds Avie
pacing the floor.
“Ericia, there’s a rumour going around but it’s highly likely to
be truth,” she says, suddenly.
Avie has always had the pleasure of speaking so casually with the
Princess. She is, after all, Ericia’s best friend.
“If this is about the dashing prince and me, I sort of don’t want
to hear it,” Ericia says. “I’m not in love with him yet. I’m working
on it. Promise.”
20
“It’s about a war,” Avie says, fear covering the depths of her
deep brown eyes.
Ericia stares at her, startled by the idea. “What? War? Involving
who? Against who? For what?”
“The reason for the hurry among the palace folk isn’t just for a
mere meeting with the king –there’s another messenger here.”
“From Lystotia?” Ericia asks, feeling a headache coming on.
“From Phillimont,” Avie says.
Ericia becomes still. “Phil-Phillimont? Avie...” she almost trails
off, “Avie, Why?”
Phillimont is that kingdom –sure, Vynier is rich in spices,
Lystotia is abundant in textiles and precious metals and minerals,
but Phillimont has the largest armed force among the three
kingdoms. Though there hasn’t been a war for a very, very long
time –so long ago that Ericia doesn’t remember being alive when
it happened- Phillimont’s pride has always been its army.
“If Phillimont is sending word of a war... then... we’re in
trouble,” Ericia says, about to bite her nails before Avie slaps her
hand away from her mouth gently.
“Don’t bite your nails, your mother would throw a fit and you
know it,” Avie says. “Anyway, I don’t know any more of the
details. That’s as much as I could get out of my mother. She’s
with your mother right now, preparing her for the meeting.
You’ll have to attend too. I’m sure someone is going to send word
21
for you soon. Come, sit. I’ll help you get the makeup and hair
done.”
***
The Throne Room is quiet. Princess Ericia quickly realises thatmany of the members of the court are still unaware of the subject
of this meeting –much less are they aware of how important it is.
Prince Rowan sits at the front, beside Ericia, Queen Olivia and
King Charles beside them.
When King Charles feels as though he is ready for the meeting
to begin, he speaks. “We have received news from Phillimont.”
With this, the members of the court begin to babble in low
chatters. Yes, they all know how important a message from
Phillimont is. “A messenger of the King has come. I will allow him
to explain everything.” He nods towards the messenger of
Phillimont, who stands, bows, and walks to the front of the room.
“Plans of attack have been formed in the Middle East against
not only Phillimont, but against Vynier and, by extention,
Lystotia. The Royals of Lystotia have been informed of this
already, but seeing as His Highness, Prince Rowan, is with you,
His Majesty King Edward, has requested that the news be brought
here directly to both the rulers of Vynier and Prince Rowan
himself. His Majesty has stated that he would like to acknowledge
the mere fact that there is no alliance among our three kingdoms,
though we trade with each other and live in peace and harmony.
He has suggested that we share our forces in order to become
stronger so that we will be able to fight off this threat together and
be of benefit to each other.”
22
“King Edward Darwin of Phillimont is offering us the service of
his army in exchange for the service of ours,” King Charles says. “I
think it’s quite an offer. It’s true. Phillimont, Lystotia and Vynier
have been traders of the necessities for decades, but with
Phillimont more than Lystotia, it is clear that we have not
acknowledged each other as allies. With Phillimont as an ally, our
troops will be stronger, and our kingdom will be safer. I speak for
Lystotia as well, knowing King Stephen and Queen Carol. They
would not pass up such an offer.”
“They would not,” Prince Rowan says, “Surely not. I have met
with the Prince of Phillimont many times. We are well enough
acquaintances to call each other friends.”
“I’m pleased to know that you’re so familiar with the heir of
Phillimont,” King Charles says to Rowan, proudly. He turns to
the Messenger. “There will be much paperwork; signing, sealing,
signifying, the lot of it. I know that it will take quite a while
before our alliance is finalized. If we do take up this offer, will an
official be sent here for those purposes or will we have to send
someone over to Phillimont for a while?”
“It can be either,” says the messenger, “Surely I will bring you
the right news when I return with the direct words of His
Majesty.”
“Tonight, there will be a short meeting with the members of
the court,” says King Charles, after nodding. “We will decide at
this meeting whether or not we will take up the offer and what we
may add to the offer as conditions. I will see you all here tonight
23
at seven. By then, court members, you should all have your minds
made up. This meeting is adjourned.”
***
Prince Rowan is in the garden, doing push-ups against aconcrete bench as Ericia strolls towards him.
“Why is it that every time I bump into you by coincidence,
you’re always exercising or practicing something?” She asks, but
she’s smiling.
“Hey,” he says, pushing himself up one more time and sitting
on the bench. “At least you know I’m not lazy.”
“I didn’t expect you to be, Your Highness,” she says, smirking.
Rowan opens a bottle of water and downs half of it, pouring the
other half over his head. Ericia feels a few drops splash against her
skin, but she doesn’t mind it as she watches the water droplets
trickle down his hair, his face, his cheeks, his chin, his neck, and
down his shirt. She swallows hard. He smells like sweat and
cologne; it tickles her nose.
“I tend to exercise when I’m tense or deep in thought or
frustrated or worried,” Rowan tells her.
“So are you tense, deep in thought, frustrated, or worried? I
can’t quite tell,” Ericia says, laughing.
Prince Rowan laughs along. “I suppose I’m a bit of each. I’m
away from my home –so I’m only slightly tense and reserved
24
because of that. I’m in an unfamiliar environment. It’s not so
much the people –because everyone here has been so friendly and
kind to me- but it’s just the environment. It’s not what I’m used
to, which is... seeing gold and silver practically dangling from
every corner. I look at the curtains hanging over the windows of
this palace and remember my home. It’s just homesickness,
probably.”
“Do you... want to go back?” Ericia asks, almost disappointed.
“If you do, I won’t blame you. If you don’t feel comfortable
here... then maybe...” she trails off, thinking of the idea she was
about to say but won’t.
“Maybe?” he asks.
“Maybe if you go back, I can be the one to stay with you for a
while,” Ericia says. “Although I’m not sure what my father will
think of such an idea.” She lets out a nervous laugh, though she
hoped it wouldn’t sound so anxious.
“That’s actually a brilliant idea,” Rowan says, grinning. “I’ll see
what I can do about it.”
There’s a bit of silence as the pair soaks up the peace around
them. There’s a gentle breeze passing through the trees from time
to time, they can hear birds chirping above them. Water is
trickling and splashing from a fountain at the centre of the garden.
Ericia frowns. “Does... this tension also have something to do
with the meeting earlier today?”
25
Rowan turns to her. “The meeting? Oh, about Phillimont and
the rumours of war?” Ericia nods. Rowan scoffs and shakes his
head. “Well, we’re Royals. We have to worry about our
kingdoms when we hear these kinds of things. On the bright side,
I’m technically friends with Phillimont’s future king, so... I think
that ought to be a good thing.”
“I hope this can all be resolved. Phillimont is quite gracious,
offering us the service of their armed forces in exchange for an
alliance to strengthen our three kingdoms. It seems they have
good intentions. I hope the court agrees on the offer. I hope they
take it willingly. Our troops could use the extra help.”
“Ours as well,” Rowan says. “It’s quite funny, thinking about
it,” he shifts in his seat, “We’ve always sort of underestimated
Phillimont, because they’ve kept to themselves and there hasn’t
really been a use for their large army. They’re quiet, trading with
us just for the sake of getting through each day with enough. I
suppose we all should have seen it coming. Every kingdom at
some point has its time to shine.”
“Yes, and perhaps now is Phillimont’s time. I’m sure that if the
friendship among our three kingdoms grows our world would
seem much larger, much brighter, much more beautiful.”
Rowan stretches his arms way above his head. “We’ll see what
happens tonight at the meeting,” he says, his voice strained with
the action. “Fingers crossed for the best.”
“Fingers crossed for the best,” Ericia copies, showing him her
crossed fingers.
26
***
King Charles’ perspective of the situation during the earlymeeting seemed to have had a great influence on the members of
the court –as it usually does. In the end, it was decided that
Vynier would take up the offer of Phillimont’s alliance.
The messenger is sent back to Phillimont with the