A Different Kind of Suitable
*Authors Note*
I do not condone underage drinking, in any situation. However, when mixing the prompt that I desired to follow and the characters that I decided to create, I realized what must be done. But just because my characters are doing it, doesn't mean that it's something I agree with. Thank you!
Tonight is my last night of freedom-the last night to get out and do what I love to do before the whole world finds out who I am. For the past 6 years I’ve been able to live my life quietly, grow up in relative obscurity. No one has seen my face and therefore no one could come up with a good excuse as to why I shouldn’t live a normal life. Go to school, have friends, have a job, and sneak out to my favorite karaoke bar every Saturday night. Even Theo, the muscle that has managed to discretely follow me everywhere I go, has no idea where I go when I disappear from my palace bedroom. And tonight is the last night that I get to do any of it.
It starts raining as I race down the long, clay driveway. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a puddle and stop to take it in. Tomorrow morning, before the sun comes up, I’ll be whisked away. The purple and blue streaks in my hair will be washed away, covered again in the chestnut shade I share with my mother and father. My choppy bangs will be evened out, pulled back into the extensions that will lengthen my choppy bob into something deemed fitting of the occasion.
The occasion. I see my emerald eyes roll back into my head at just the thought of what tomorrow holds. I start running again, the feeling of my boots digging into the wet earth propelling me forward. I slow where the driveway meets paved road. One glance at my watch tells me that for once I am early. I chuckle, wondering what Friz will say when she pulls up beside me. Thankfully, I don’t have to wonder for long. I turn my head when I hear the engine and watch her round the corner. Tires screech to a halt inches from my boots. She removes her helmet and shakes out her hair. I catch just a hint of a smirk on her face. “Well well well, someone is anxious to get out tonight.”
I grab my helmet from the back compartment of her bike. “More than you know.” She winks before putting her helmet back on. I barely have time to hop on behind her before she’s taking off.
I close my eyes, my breath coming slow and easy. This feeling, wind traveling past me, nothing to protect me if I fall, just uncertain enough to be scary. And yet just familiar enough to feel safe. I feel tears forming behind my lids and will them to stay away. Not only do I want to keep my makeup from smearing, but I want this night to be one that I never forget-and crying will not be a part of those memories.
Friz pulls into the parking lot of the bar and I cannot stop the smile from spreading across my face. Her kickstand splashes in a puddle, sending a spray of water over my boots as I remove my helmet. The name “Lip Service” was spelled out in large block letters lit from the inside by red fluorescents. The dot above the “i” blinked in and out of view, and the “v” looked more like a slash most nights, but the familiar sight filled my heart with warmth. This was home, as strange as it sounded.
“Ready for this?” Friz asks, pulling her cascading red curls into a high ponytail.
“More than you know.” I smile and take a deep breath as we walk inside, no one even bothering to ask for our ID’s. They’d long since been fooled by our fakes, and if anyone knows that we’re underage they don’t let on.
“Abby, Friz! Good ta’ see ya!” Mamma greets us from behind the bar, her voice hoarse from a decade too many of cigarettes, and motions towards the dance floor. “Everyone’s a’waitin’ on you darlin’, it bein’ your last night and all.” She winks at me and slides my favorite drink my way. She’d guessed my secret when I was in high school, soon after Friz and I had become regulars, and waited until I’d has just one too many to confront me about it. Thankfully, she’d kept quiet. But I always had a sneaking suspicion that she had the palace on speed dial-just in case.
“Since it’s my last night, we better make it good.” I grin as I hand her several bills before downing several gulps of my drink. She flipped through the bills, shaking her head. I’d handed her enough to pay for anything Friz and I might want tonight and then some.
“You wantin’ me to call ya a cab fer later?”
“Maybe.” I wink before slipping onto the dance floor. I see many familiar faces smiling at me as we dance and jump to the music blaring from the speakers mounted in each corner. I close my eyes and let the sound envelop me. The floor shakes with the rhythm of the bass and the footsteps of those around me. I feel alive, almost powerful, as the drink slowly starts to warm me. I down more of the drink, relishing in the fact that the liquid courage I’d once been scared of now comes crashing over me in a comfortable and familiar rush. Soon the beer is gone, the glass returned to Mamma at the counter, and Friz and I find ourselves on the dance floor surrounded by strangers and friends. It’s nearly midnight before Malone makes his way to the stage and taps the mic.
Everyone stops, the music fading to a slightly quieter backdrop as he speaks. “Good evenin’, good evenin’. Glad to see everyone’s enjoyin’ themselves. Now tonight we gots a special treat for ya-Miss Abby here is movin’ up an on this weekend, so she’s gonna get the honor of opening the mic tonight.” He winks at me and I feel warmth in my cheeks. Thankful for the cover of the makeup on my face, I walk over to the bar to select my song. Mamma meets me at the jukebox-like selection box, a tiny glass in her hand. “Slammer.” She says. I don’t hesitate to down it in one gulp; the burning in my throat makes my eyes water, but I smile again none the less.
“I know what song I want.” I flip through a few options before deciding it would be easier to just type it in. Once it’s selected, I make my way back to the stage. Malone hands me the mic, does an over-zealous bow as he exits the stage, and I am alone.
Staring out at the crowd, I can hear the frantic beating of my heart in the seconds before the music starts. After the first measure I see Friz grin and I know she’s recognized the song. I sing about being “immortal, but not for long” because that’s exactly how I feel tonight. The adrenaline, serotonin, and alcohol flooding my system has put me in a state of near euphoria by the time the song ends. I stop to catch my breath, not realizing just how energetic I’d been. The room explodes in applause and whistles, but it dies quickly as someone I don’t recognize joins me on the stage.
He claps slowly, sarcastically, as he walks closer. “Not bad babe, not bad at all. But can you pull off the same with a partner?”
I roll my eyes and gesture to the room. “Pick someone and you’ll see.”
“Oh, my choice is already made.” He takes the other mic from the stand and nods to Mamma in the back. She grimaces at him, looking to me for approval before she starts the song.
I shrug and roll my eyes before I nod. I glance at him angrily in the moments before the song starts. His short brown hair is in a neat style-too neat to blend in around here. The sleeves of his button down shirt are rolled up, and the bottom hung lose around his tight blue jeans. He smirked as the song started, his brown eyes mischievously looking me up and down.
I recognize the song almost immediately as Evanescence. Of course, he picks something where his part will be fairly minimal. Again, I roll my eyes as I start to sing.
As he starts in I realize that his voice isn’t half bad and begin to think that this could be fun. We start to move together, almost dancing even though we have to hold the microphones. He puts his arm around me and his hand on my hip. I try to pull away but his grip is too strong. Distracted now I miss a few words of the next line; this catches the attention of several of my friends. His hand moves lower, my heel comes down on his toe, I am released.
I sing facing him now, not willing to let him leave my sight. He takes this as some sort of signal. Grabbing my hand he twirls me around, pulling me closer to him with an entanglement of both our arms keeping me from getting away. I play it to the song, letting my head rest on his chest. My heel seeks out his foot again, but he’s quicker this time. With a quick push I am able to get myself free from his grasp. Abandoning the song now I attempt to storm away, but he grabs my hand and pulls me back so fast I am caught off guard. He takes this moment to plant an un-permitted kiss on my lips.
My knee meets his groin, his eyes fly open as he doubles over, I turn away. Before leaving him to sing falsetto, I thrust my elbow back and feel the hard lump of his nose crack from the force. My elbow throbs now, but I hardly notice as I storm off the stage.
Malone and several others take my place, roughly dragging him up and to the door where he is thrown out on his bum quite unceremoniously. Friz and Mamma meet me at the bar; I’m sure they can feel the heat radiating from my body-anger bringing my breaths in short, quick bursts. “I need another slammer.” I tell Mamma.
“I’d say so.” She walks off to prepare it and Friz sits down beside me.
“Do you need me to go kick his. . .” She trailed off, probably refraining from using language because of my slip earlier in the night.
“No, it’s fine. He’s just some creep.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it again and bites her lip. “If you’re sure you’re okay, I’m gonna step out for a bit. I’ll just be a couple of minutes.”
I sigh and put my head on the bar. “I’m fine.” As she stands to leave I think better of where I’d decided to place my head ad look up. I happen to see her phone as she walks out, but surely I’m seeing things. She wasn’t about to call Theo, what's she?
Mamma arrives with the shot and I thank her, promising to return for it in a minute. I walk to the window near the door, thankful it’s cracked open, and listen as Friz speaks into her cell phone.
“Hey, it’s me. He showed up tonight. . .yeah I know but this time she saw him. He was on stage with her, singing. He kissed her. . . .Yeah I know, I know, but don’t worry. Girl can take care of herself. He’s gonna be black and blue in a couple different places.”
I walk away before the conversation is over. “You okay darlin’?” Mamma asks as I sit back down with a huff. I shake my head then down the slammer.
“Can I have another?” I ask, disregarding her first question.
Instead of a slammer she hands me a beer. “Don’t wantcha doin’ too much at once.”
I roll my eyes and take a drink. A moment later, Friz joins us at the bar.
“Sorry about that.” She says, pulling her hair over her shoulder. “My mom texted me, it sounded important. Turns out she just finished binge watching The Office.”
She laughs, I drum my fingers on the bar once, twice, three times. Mamma makes herself scarce.
“What’s up Abbs? Are you sure you’re okay?” She looks genuinely concerned and I have to stifle a rueful laugh. I take another long drink before I speak.
“I should’ve seen it.” I mumble, half to her and half to myself. “Fast friends, too fast, on day one. I was naive, and you all took advantage of that. I thought I was living my life, being my own person, out from under the thumb of the palace and the watchful eye of my parents and my handler. When in reality, it was all a lie? And the only person in this world I’d call a friend. . .orchestrating half of it? Reporting back to Theo? To my parents? When were you going to tell me? Did you really think that was going to go over well?”
She sighs and motions to Mamma to bring us each another drink. She does quickly, then pats my arm in an attempt to be encouraging. Once we’re alone again, Friz begins to speak.
“Theo hired me right before you started school. I had signed up for training at the palace, but he offered something better. I’d never been to high school, had to drop out to keep up the house while mom worked. Theo said all I had to do was be your friend, keep an eye out for danger, and let him know if there was any trouble. He knew I could take care of myself and you if need be-at least long enough for him to get to us. So yeah, it started out as an assignment, a job, but Abbs” I jerk away as she reaches for my arm. For a moment I think I see pain in her eyes. Good, maybe she’ll start to understand. “Abby, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. Yeah, Theo caught wind of you sneaking out like a month into it, asked me where you were. I told him I could take care of us-I used to work in places ten times worse than this. He doesn’t follow us, he doesn’t even know what you do here. And believe me, if he told your parents we’d both lose our jobs.”
I finish my first drink, slamming it down with enough force to make the second one Mama had brought slosh onto the bar. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the anger, but my arms and face feel uncomfortably warm. “Get out.” I whisper.
“Abby, I can’t-“
“You’re fired, Friz.” My words hang in the air for a moment. “I wanted tonight to be a celebration with my friends. Clearly, you don’t fall into that category.”
She is silent for too long. Her eyes close as she stands, and I hope my words cut her just as deep as hers cut me. She leaves without a word, but I don't doubt that she's called Theo. I ask Mamma to play the song from earlier again and then head back out to the dance floor. Joining a group of girls I knew from past Saturdays, I lose myself in the music. The room vibrates even more now than it had earlier, the energy from the bodies and the music surrounding me, fueling me. I'm twirling one of the girls when my phone vibrates in my boot. I let her twirl me before I let go of her hand and check to see who wanted me. Theo, of course, outside and hoping I would join him without a scene.
I replace the phone and return to the bar, steading myself on the shoulders of a couple bystanders on the way. "You sure you don't want me to call ya a cab darlin'?" Mamma asks, her words sounding further away than she looked. The light behind her causing what looks to be a halo behind her head. "Abby?"
I nodded, reaching for my drink. Even now, no longer on the dance floor, I can feel the energy buzzing around me. I don't want it to stop. "I'm fine." I lie, knowing full well that soon enough Theo will be in looking for me. I close my eyes and let the atmosphere overwhelm me. The heat, the heartbeat in the music, the laughter and buzz of conversation; I swear the room is moving like we were on a boat when I feel Theo's presence beside me. I feel him grab my arm, lift me up, and then Mamma protests.
"Just where do you think you're gonna be takin' 'er?"
"Home." His voice is gruff, but kind.
My eyes still closed, I imagine Mamma's eyebrows shooting up. "Home? She ain't do home fer another couple a hours."
"She's coming home now. Clearly, she's in no state to be out."
No state to be out? "I'm fine, Theo!" I open my eyes and jump to my feet. The lights around me sparkle, and the boat we have to be on careened to the right. I hit a log.
No, the log was moving. I definitely hit Theo. Groaning, I let him hold me up. "I'm fine!" I insist, pushing against him.
"I'm taking you home, your highness."
"Shut up Theo!" A spark of anger shoots through me. "Don't give me away!" I know that there are tears in my eyes as I look around the bar, but no one seems to be looking our way. No one heard him. No one even notices that
Reluctantly I follow him outside. He opens the passenger side door for me, but I don't get in. Instead, I hold the door for balance and look up into the rain. Falling faster now, the droplets splash against my face. In the relative silence, minus the rushing in my ears, I can hear my grandfathers voice in my head. Grimacing, I shake it away. I don't want his memory here, not now. Not when I'm too drunk to keep from crying at the thought of disappointing him; if he could see me now I don't even want to know what he would say.
"Your highness" Theo bellows. Softer, he continues. "Abby, I have to get you home. Now."
I scowl and get into the car. The warmth of the heater a sharp contrast to the cool wind and rain. It feels almost suffocating, so I roll the window down.
It's not long before we're home. The trees swirled around the car as we drove, the lights from other cars adding a sparkle to the wet blackness.
I have the vague knowledge that Theo is helping me out of the car, away from the stairs to the main entrance, and around the side to the kitchen door. My mother is there. She's never in the kitchen. The lights around her and her attendants are large circles bouncing in and out of my vision. Her face is red, like she's mad. I realize she's probably mad at me. The room goes black.
Next thing I know I am lying on my bed. My mother is shooing out attendants. I feel her sit down next to me, the pillow beneath my face shifting. "Abigail." She whispers. Her voice laced with emotion that my befuddled brain cannot recognize.
I don't know how much time passes before she moves again. I feel her fingers fumbling with the zippers on my boots. First one, then another, are removed and places neatly in my closet. There is no sound of them landing across the room. "Mom" I mumble, desperately wanting to tell her how sorry I am that I've screwed up. I try to sit up but my arms have no strength. I sigh. My mind swirling, I cannot string together a comprehensive thought. The lights go out, a blanket is pulled over me. Even though I fight it, I feel myself being pulled into the oblivion of sleep. Even in this state, I have the awful feeling that I am going to get the what for come morning.
~
I hear the commotion before it reaches my door. My mother ordering attendants this way and that-everything has to be ready for the ceremony that would take place in-I open my eyes and blink rapidly as I try to make out the time on the clock-three hours and 46 minutes. I burry my head under my pillows seconds before my door flies open with a crack.. She's mumbling to herself, something about how she still cannot believe it. I must still be in trouble. I hear the curtains open, hear her start my song on the record player. Unsure if this is the first form of punishment or a way for her to self soothe, I decide to avoid mentioning that this song makes my ears bleed on a normal day-today it's about ten times worse.
I attempt to take stock of how I feel before she invades my darkness as she has invaded my room. Rock vibrating in my skull, limbs filled with something slightly lighter than lead, stomach empty and grumbling. Worse than the average Sunday, by far, but nothing I couldn't handle. Just one more thing to make this day the most unforgettable of my life. The thought intensifies my pain, or maybe I just tense thinking about what the day promises to hold. I'm only allowed a few more precious seconds in the dark before my mother pulls the blankets off of me and tosses the pillow across the room. Oh dear.
"Abigail Zamora Prescott, it is time for you to get up."
The full name. I groan and slowly attempt to sit up. "Good morning mom." My voice doesn’t sound quite there yet.
"Don't you 'good morning mom' me. No ma'am, you're not getting out of this that easily. Up, now." Although her voice is steady, it holds the commanding tone of a queen rather than that of a mother. Reluctantly, I obey. As soon as my feet hit the floor her attendants are shoving a cup of black coffee at me. I take it, and immediately taste the bitter-sour tang of one of our families natural pain remedies. "Yuck." I mumble, taking another swig. I tried to get it down my throat with as little contact with my tongue as possible.
"You want to go out and get drunk? You can deal with what needs done to get you presentable for your presentation today. No complaints." The heavy stare from her emerald eyes so similar to my own keeps me silent as I continue to drink. Scarcely do I finish the first cup when another is thrust my way, the dirty mug carried to the tea service brought up from the kitchen. This one doesn't taste like Fellonwood root. In fact, it tastes like the blend I keep hidden in the freezer. A small smile parts my lips as I let myself enjoy the brew. From the closet, I hear her shout. "Out of those clothes! You need to get showered and dressed to meet Harmony in an hour."
My heart drops, I sink back down to the bed. "An hour?" I though I had at least double that before I had to meet Harmony. I don't want to transform into her alternate version of myself until I have to.
"You're meeting her in an hour so she has plenty of time to ensure that you look like a proper princess is supposed to. This is your first appearance to the public in nearly 7 years; I won't have you ruining it any more than you probably already have." Ouch. But, I understand.
A new wave of grief washes over me. My mother has most likely been planning this day since I was born, never knowing that it would be my first appearance to the kingdom as Princess since my 13th birthday. How could I have been so selfish? What had driven me to drink so uncontrollably? I think back to last night, a vague memory of the man on stage with me, kissing me. Sitting at the bar with Friz. Then, nothing.
I'm staring guiltily at the floor when my mother reappears. "What are you waiting for? Shower, now!" I move without responding, my limbs still heavy. Once alone in the bathroom I open a drawer and pull out a sealed container of honnyseed. I pop two into my mouth and within a minute I get sick. After composing myself, feeling very foolish, I think that another dose couldn’t possibly hurt since I didn’t keep the first one down. These were the best way I had found to get rid of the sluggish feeling I sometimes dealt with on Sunday morning.
The hot shower does wonders to wake me up and ease some of the heaviness in my limbs. Underneath the spray, I am almost able to forget about the events of last night-the events soon to come this morning. When I am finally able to part with the warmth, I know that it will be useless to dress. Surely, they already have my gown chosen for me. I pull on my bathrobe and pad back into my bedroom. Harmony is already waiting, her portable salon all set up on the other side of the room. Sadness fills me as I realize that I am about to say goodbye to the image of myself that I has crafted over the years.
My mother is busying herself straightening the gown that had been chosen for me. I wonder if it is at all similar to the one that she wore. I watch her, unnoticed, for several long moments before I realize that she has not looked at me once this morning. Not even a glance my way. I move to stand beside her, hoping for something. I get nothing.
“Mom” I mumble. Still nothing. “Mom.” This time I am louder, I want her to know I will be heard. When she still refuses to look at me, I snap. “Mother!” She jumps at the volume of my voice, but still she does not look up. “Will you look at me? Please? For King’s sake, yell at me! Scream! Curse my name and the ground I walk on, tell me how angry you are that I all but ruined this perfect day you had planned. Hit me, I don’t care; but please, please, just look at me!” I feel foolish, screaming at her to look at me while everyone else in the room looks on in shock.
Her frail hands drop the jewels she had been attempting to place about the neckline of the dress. She stiffens with what can only be described as the practiced posture of a queen. I realize that I may have just made the situation much, much worse.
“Harmony, girls, you may go.” She says. “I will send for you when we are ready to begin.” They all leave without so much as a concerned glance between them, tripping over one another in an attempt to exit as quickly as possible. In their absence the room is quiet, deathly still. I dare not move as my mother turns to face me. Her green eyes hold a storm that I realize I have just unleashed on myself.
The last thing I expected was for her to actually hit me. I gasp, frozen in shock at the stinging in my face. Tears fill my eyes, more reflexive than from the pain of she slap. I know that I probably deserved much worse than a single strike. “You are an adult Abigail,” She begins, her voice both steady yet wavering “you can make your own decisions. However,” her finger presses to my chest, and I retreat a single step. She follows. “the fact that your decisions included being selfish to the point of all but ruining something that your father and I have been meticulously planning for months-years even-is what infuriates me.” She turns away from me, and I don’t know if she is done or simply attempting to organize her thoughts.
She continues before I can form a response. “You are a strong, level headed girl. What on earth posses you to go out and get drunk? And every weekend? Abigail, it’s unwise! Not to mention unhealthy! Do you even know how much danger you put yourself in every single time you went to that filthy bar?”
I take a moment to let her words flow through me before I speak. I find myself the one with the calm and level voice in this moment-a rare turning of the tables. I find that I don’t want to defend myself-there is nothing I can say or do that would be sufficient. Instead, I feel heat at her description of my escape. “Lip Service is not a filthy bar, mother. It’s an escape.” Before I even have time to think about it, I find myself telling her the truth. Exactly why I was drawn not just to Lip Service, but to our little city.
“There, I was not Princess Abigail Zamora, heir to her Grandfathers kingdom. I was just Abby, the girl who could sing. I didn’t get drunk every time I went there-trust me, it’s not a fun feeling. But a beer, maybe two, and all the etiquette that had been drilled into my brain was gone. The princess that you trained up was gone, and all that remained was the girl that Grandfather taught to sing. Lip Service is the only place in all Mayaren that I can be myself. I can be the girl that grandfather saw, the one that he said would change the way his kingdom was run for the better. Not the princess that everyone so desperately wants me to be. Not the leader that dad is expecting to ascend his throne. Just a girl, having fun on the weekend in the way most girls her age do.”
My fists are clenched, balling the sleeves of the bathrobe. I remain calm, poised, exactly as I was taught, waiting for her reply.
While her features don’t soften, her demeanor does. Her shoulders fall ever so slightly forward, her knees unlock. She sits on my bed and motions for me to join her. Once I do, it is her turn to let my words sink in. I watch as she tries to make sense of it all. I know that I have earned punishment, but this is also the first time she has heard me speak the truth about what I thought of life as princess of Mayaren.
“Four years.” Her words are barely a whisper. “Theo said you’d first gone to Lip Service four years ago. Right after grandfathers death.”
I nod. I was the only one in the room when my grandfather passed. He wanted to talk to me, the next heir to his kingdom, alone. I would be the first girl to marry a second or third born prince, ending the age old Prescott lineage of kings.
“It made me forget. The atmosphere, the music, the alcohol. For a few precious hours, I didn’t feel that grief. It was harder than you know to keep from going every night.”
Again, she seems to think over my words before responding. “What did he say?” Her voice is only slightly louder now, still full of caution and concern.
I shrug. How do I even begin to explain? “He told me-He told me not to listen to dad, that he was blind to what was happening in Mayaren. He said I had a front row seat in my school, told me to start paying attention to those that dropped in and out-those that never came back. He wanted me to listen to the gossip about the town and about dad.” I pause, wondering if I should continue. “It’s awful mom; you can’t imagine. Grandfather saw the need for change in his kingdom, I see it too. He made me promise that I would do something about it, and I did. I told him that I would keep my promise as long as he promised to stick around. He just smiled and said that he’d always be around, in my heart.” And then I sang, but I don’t tell her that. I don’t tell her how I sang him to sleep, sang until his breath stopped, and sobbed for what seemed like an eternity before a servant finally arrived with his supper.
I feel her hand on mine, look up to see a few stray tears sliding down her cheeks. “No child should have that burden to bare.”
I shake my head. “That’s just it. Even as a child I saw nothing wrong with that fact that I was given this burden. That’s why I wanted to escape. I knew, despite hating to admit it, that one day I would be the suitable princess that you’d raised. I could feel it in my bones. But it wasn’t who I wanted to be, not yet anyway. So I did my best to be as unsuitable as a princess for as long as I could. The hair, the piercings, I half hoped you’d decide I wasn’t suitable and have another kid or something. But. . .the day’s here.” I can’t leave it at that. It doesn’t sound final, and it doesn’t sound encouraging. That cannot be what I leave her with before I take the kingdom. So I grip her hand tighter until she looks me in the eye. “I promise you, I am going to be the best princess, best queen, I can. . .it just might be a little less conventional than you had hoped.”
I almost fall over when she hugs me. I feel her shake her head and attempt to stifle a laugh. “This does not mean that you are out of the frying pan, you understand?”
I did nothing to stop my chuckle. “Hey, at least I’m not in the fryer yet.”
She pulled away and held my face in her hands. “I know that you are going to be a good ruler. You care about the people of this kingdom and you know more about them than I or your father could even imagine. They are going to love you.”
“Or hate me.” I say truthfully. “I was in their world for years, and I couldn’t do much to help.”
“But you’re about to change it.” She stands and motions for me to give her a proper hug. I don’t argue. I can see us in the mirror along the wall, my head resting on her shoulder and hers on mine.
“I really am sorry, mom.” And this time I mean it. “Something last night made me angry-I didn’t mean to go that far.”
She nods. “I know.” A sigh. She runs her fingers through my hair as she adds, “It’s a lesson-a queen cannot let her emotions get the best of her. Not in public, and not around alcohol.”
I nod this time, and after a long moment she finally lets go. “You still have to be my version of suitable for today, okay? I think all this” she motions to my hair and face, “combined with a wedding, combined with presenting you again. . .they’re going to be a little overwhelmed. Ease them into it, okay?”
I attempt to laugh. “Okay. But, can the piercings stay?” She eyes the multiple piercings down each ear, the one around my eyebrow, and the one in my nose. With a sigh, she concedes. “I suppose. Rather that be known now than be added later.”
I give her a mischievous smile. “Well, in that case, what about-“
“The hair stays my way.” Her eyes begged me not to protest. I wondered if she would be able to stand any more disappointment today.
“Okay, okay, fine.” I smile, she smiles. Finally, at least for the time being, there is peace between us.
~
Every little girl grows up imagining her wedding day. Most imagine a church or some beautiful venue that means something to them and their groom. They imagine getting ready with their closest friends, their mother putting the final touches on the dress, and walking down the aisle where their father will give them away to the man they they have fallen deeply, hopelessly in love with. Today was my wedding day, and I knew it would be nothing like that.
We walk down the hallway that sparkles from the polishing the servants had given it in the last several days. I see my reflection as we pass by, the striking difference startling me yet again. My black and blue hair had been cut even shorter, into a pixie that I really quite liked, and covered over with a wig. Long chestnut colored locks curled about my face and down my back, my bangs straight across my forehead. A thin gold band was woven through the hair on top, creating a delicate crown. Harmony had done my makeup naturally, in such a way that the piercings hardly drew attention away from the rest of the outfit.
The outfit. Where to even begin? The dress, white brushes the floor with every step I take. The silver scrappy heels I wear do nothing to lift it. Sleeveless, with a flowing piece of material dipping down my back and attached at each shoulder by golden broaches. The broaches my mother had worn on her wedding, and my fathers mother, and every queen of Mayaren for the past 20 generations.
My stomach is in knots and my head is beginning to pound again as I stand before the closed doors of the ballroom. With attendants on either side, I’ve lost track of my mother. Just when I think she had slipped away to her place beside my father, suddenly she is beside me, handing me another cup of coffee. This time, I am sipping it through a straw. It’s my coffee, but it’s laced with fellonwood.
“Thank you.” I whisper, savoring a long sip.
“Are you ready?” Her voice is no louder than my own, and I know that the ornate doors will be opening any moment.
I sigh. “I’m as ready as I can be. It’s going to be an incredibly long day.”
She nods, probably remembering her own wedding day. Before we can say anything else, the doors are opened and I am presented to the ballroom filled with friends and family from neighboring kingdoms. Surely somewhere among them is my betrothed, but I wont know who he is until we are presented after mass.
The ceremony is long, and even though I’ve set through it thousands of times in my 20 years, it seems to drag on even longer than usual. I catch myself tapping my foot in anxiousness as the sacraments are passed along the tables-no doubt looking like a very impatient princess. I partake, and when we bow for prayer my mother puts her hand on my knee gently, silencing the quiet tap-tap-tap of my toe. When we look up, I know that it is time time. The Priest speaks about my coming of age, the traditions of our kingdom, and the match that he foresaw going very well in myself and a prince I now knew was named Benjamin. He spoke of my fathers reign and my grandfathers reign, and how this wedding would see the close of a line of Prescott kings, and hopefully bring about a long line of Sheppard kings. My stomach twisted; that would be part of my job-bearing sons.
I am called to the stage now. Slowly, I rise. The heels are high, but no higher than those on the boots that I had grown accustomed to wearing. I’m thankful to possess the skill of walking in them confidently as I take my place behind a microphone. The first measures of music begin, and I take a deep breath.
The song builds slowly, the ancient language filling the ballroom almost hauntingly. My grandfather taught me the song, and insisted that I sing it today. He said that it speaks of hope, prosperity, and love. I don’t know what the words I sing mean, but I know that they sound beautiful. I know that they bring back memories from when my grandfather first started teaching me the song when I was 12 years old. It has been in my head for so long, I could probably sing it backwards if I tried. All too soon, it comes to an end. The music fades away, and I am left standing along on the stage.
I glance around nervously, looking for Benjamin in the crowd. Shouldn’t he be standing up? I bite my lip, considering for the first time that perhaps he didn’t want this-that he had changed his mind and decided to leave me stranded. Wouldn’t that be just my luck?
The seconds between the song ending and the opening of the ballroom doors are torturous, but they are nothing compared to the confusion I feel when I lay eyes on him. He is flanked on either side by his mother and father, good friends of my parents and the rules of a kingdom along our border. His brown hair is no longer neat, his green eyes hold both excitement and embarrassment as he takes in my dress. My mouth falls open, and I am unable to think clearly as they walk towards me. His nose is purple and blue, something makeup hides well until he is close enough to take my hand. Under his eyes seemed darker than normal as well, but I don’t know if that’s from my elbow of from lack of sleep. He looks sheepish now, holding my hand as gingerly as possible; it’s as if he thinks I’ll hit him again.
He leads me to the Priest, and the most anticipated ceremony of the day begins. Different than most, Royal weddings are very fast and simple. Rarely do the bride and groom speak vows of love for one another. In most cases, as in mine, the two only meet at the alter. Instead, we speak vows of how we will work together to rule the kingdom; more for the people than for each other. Almost robotically, I recite mine. My voice echoes through the ballroom.
“I, Abigail Zamora Prescott, promise to rule alongside you until we are parted in death. I promise to be the counsel, the confidant, the advisor that you need to rule. I promise to help you keep the needs of Mayaren and her people before our own, and to support you in all decisions you make as ruler of this land. In sickness I promise to speak for you, in health I promise to stand by you, and in love I promise to remain faithful to you until death do us part. My husband, my king, I honor you.” I choke on the line about love, suddenly back in the present. Anger begins to boil up in me again, quelled only by the gentleness in his voice as he begins to say his piece. Far from what I know he had been forced to memorize in grade school, his words are more personal. A knife to the heart, and a white hot cinder of embarrassment.
“Abigail, I take you as my wife. My queen. I promise to rule alongside you and to put your people and your kingdom first, learning from you what needs done before making decisions on my own. I promise that my intentions are not for evil, and that I wish only to help you serve the people of Mayaren. I promise to love you with my whole heart, remaining faithful to you not only until the day we are parted in death, but to the day we are joined again. I promise to listen, ensuring that you, your concerns, and your ideas are heard and taken as seriously as my own. I promise to help you change Mayaren for the better. My wife, my queen, I honor you.”
There are no “I Do’s”.
The Priest pronounces us man and wife, we turn to face the crowd, and they explode in applause and cheers. We march arm and arm through the ballroom and into the hallway. The second the doors close behind us, I grab his arm. I’m running, dragging him behind me until we are outside, far from the ballroom and the crowds that will be expecting our return by now. After all, the exit is just for show.
“What are you doing here?” I hiss.
He sheepishly ducks his head; I bite the inside of my lip, frustration and fury filling me. Finally, after a long moment of trysting to order my thoughts, I shout. “Explain!” I don’t know what else to ask.
He sighs and sits down on the stone steps, gesturing for me to join him. I want to be defiant, but I’ve just promised to honor him for the rest of my life. It wouln’t bode well for us to have people see me disobeying him seconds after we’d tied the knot.
“I thought you knew.” His statement is so simple, so quiet, I have no doubt that it’s true. I can feel my grip on my anger slipping.
“You thought I knew who you were? How, better yet, why would I know?”
He shrugs, seemingly attempting to string together his next thought. “You were so willing to sing with me, to dance with me. I thought for sure that you knew too. I was over the moon. When I kissed you-I thought it was amazing. We’d found each other before we were meant to, shared a kiss and a memory from before our wedding. It was something they didn’t have control of. Apparently I didn’t either. I was caught completely off guard.”
“You were caught off guard?” I nearly shout. “I’s already had two drinks, I was so close to drunk! Did you even consider the possibility that I didn’t know? How I would react to being kissed by a total stranger? Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Guess what, me either! I drank nearly double what I usually do, and don’t remember anything after singing with you!”
His eyes are downcast now, staring at the ground in front of him. “I honestly thought that you knew.” Was all he could say. “I just wanted to make a flashy, romantic first impression.”
I sigh, my anger being away faster than I’d like it to. I find it difficult to stay mad when he looks so upset. I guess that last night wasn’t his normal. After several long minutes, I turn to him and extend my hand. “Hi, I’m Abigail. I’m your new wife.”
His eyebrows raise in bewilderment, but he takes my hand. “Hi Abby, I’m Ben.”
Hearing my name from his lips, the name that I had chosen for myself outside the palace walls, sounds oddly comforting. We sit in silence for a few moments longer, transgressions forgiven, and I try to work out how we will do this. We had a month before my parents stepped down, became the King and Queen Regant. Then we would take over. One month before we would become the new rulers of Mayaren.
“So” his voice startles me after the long silence. “What are we going to do now? We’ve got four weeks to get to know each other, to figure out what we’re going to implement in our first year. Where do you want to start?”
I sigh and shake my head. “Where to start? I think I need to start with getting out of this dress and wig. I’m dying in the heat.”
“Ohh, it’s a wig. That makes sense. I wasn’t as drunk as I thought I was last night.”
I have to stifle a laugh. “No, no you weren’t. My mother just thinks that a princess should be presented looking like. . .a lady, I guess. Honestly, I didn’t ask a lot of questions-I was in hot water this morning.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Just how plastered did you get?”
“Plastered enough; I still have a headache.” I reach to rub my eyes, remember my make makeup, and think better of it. “I just want out of here.”
“I can help arrange that.” Her voice causes me to jump and turn around. Gone is the black leather of last night, replaced by professional attire that my mother would be proud of. Actually, the longer I look at the outfit the more I think that my mother picked it out.
“Friz? What are you doing?” I stand and spin around to face her, teetering slightly in my heels.
“It’s Francesca, your highness. I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but your mother gave me this job about a month ago. I should’ve mentioned it but-“
“Wait, my mom? You know my mom? You’re going to have to back up.”
I’m met with a questioning look. “You don’t remember last night, our fight?”
I shake my head, “No. I remember this bozo kissing me and being really angry, but I don’t remember fighting.”
Color drains from her face. “O-Oh. Well, then we probably need to talk. You were mad, yeah, but you were mad at me.”
It’s my turn to be confused. “What? Friz, whatever it was it couldn’t have been that bad, right? I’d remember. Are we okay?”
She bites her lip and sighs. “I think so, for now, but that conversation has to happen. For now, I can help you get out of here. Your parents kind of set up a little escape for you.”
“An escape?” Ben stood beside me now, his close proximity sending electricity up my side.
“You’re not actually being presented today-It’ll be next week. Abby-your highness-there’s a letter from your parents in the limo, along with several days worth of clothes for both of you. I guess it’s a thing.”
Ben nods and I glance up at him. He stands several inches taller than me in my heels. How did I not notice that last night? “My parents said that we would have a few days to ourselves before preparation.” he says.
Preparation. I didn’t even want to think about it. How was I supposed to explain my plan to my father? The King that saw no wrong in how his kingdom worked currently.
“Let’s get you two out of here. Abby-“ Friz grabs my hand and sends a pleading look Ben’s way. Once he’s out of earshot, she says. “We’ll talk when you get back, okay? You two have fun.” Her smile is small but genuine, and I know that no matter what she has to tell me, I will be grateful to have her around the palace.
I look back at Ben, waiting by a limo that has pulled up to the building. With one final wink at Friz I smirk. “I think we will.”
~
We had locked ourselves in the castle by the ocean over the past two days, comparing and contrasting the plans that we had for the kingdom. So far, I’m presently surprised. The plans that we had lined up almost perfectly-even as far as the exact same idea on some points.
“Okay, lets go over this again.” I sigh, looking out the window to the beach. I can smell the salt water, the sand, practically feel the sun on my skin.
“Okay, so first:” Ben started “We take away the ban on women's working hours-they can now work whenever they want, for however long they want. We extend the hours of every daycare facility under our control-that’ll open up a few jobs right there too. We still need to talk about the “Finish Strong Incentive”. What exactly will that include?”
“Free meals at school, breakfast and lunch, as well as weekend packs sent home to any family that had a father or son that died in the war-regardless of the mother's current marital status. They got next to nothing under my dad’s leadership-I want them to know that I care about the sacrifices that they made.”
Ben nods and scribbles in his notebook. “And we plan to fund this by opening up the mines again?”
I nod, pointing to a spot on the map that lay between us on the floor. “My dad closed them down during the war-said we needed the soldiers. But they were never reopened. We didn’t have enough men. But, if we open them now we have lots of young men that will want to work. With them working in the mines, there will be jobs opening up left and right in town for the women.”
His pencil doesn’t leave the page for a long moment. Finally he points to a crumpled piece of paper near my elbow. “What about that? Lots of guys will want to join up if it means free education.”
I un-crumple my paper, reading the scrawled title at the top. “Higher Education Motive”. “I want this to be accessible to girls too, Ben. They can serve just as well, and it could be their only chance to go to college.”
He raised his eyebrow. “You want girls in the Kings army?”
I cross my arms and sit up straighter. “You don’t?”
His eyes widen. “Why do I suddenly feel like a deer in headlights?”
“Are you seriously going to tell me that you hadn’t thought of opening the Kings army to women? Even your parents let women on the battlefield.”
“Yeah, as medical. I don’t want them fighting-it we lose too many young women the next generation is all but wiped out.”
“The same is true for if we lose too many young men. By that logic, it’s best is there is a mix of female and male fighting-that way we still have a good mix back home.”
He blinks. “We’ve been married forty-eight hours and already you’ve managed to make me hate it when you’re right.”
I grin. “So, we open it to the girls?”
“Sure” he sighs. “but, they still have to pass the physical.”
I raise my eyebrow again. “We’re not going to discuss that-are we?”
“Uh, no. No, we are not. Are we done?” He hands me his notebook and I read aloud what he’s written.
Benjamin and Abbigail’s Plan of Action
Reopen the Diamond Mines-this creates jobs as well as funds for
Finish Strong Incentive-free breakfast and lunch for all students, as well as weekend packs for all families that lost a father or brother in the Great War
Higher Education Motive-every year spent in service of the King’s Army earns you one year of tuition at the local college
Repeal of Ban on Women's Working Hours-no longer are women limited to working between the hours of 9am and 5pm.
Daycare Extension-All government funded daycares will now be open from 6am to 10pm, giving mothers more needed leeway to work.
“I think this is perfect. At the very least, it’s a good start. I want my people to know that we care about them, and the state that this nation has been in for the past 11 years. My father didn’t see-why, I don’t know, but he didn’t. I see. I want them to know that my years spent in their school were not for personal enjoyment. I wanted to see, understand. So many girls dropped out to care for their siblings so that their mother could work during the day. So many boys left so that work to support their families. My class went from over one hundred in my freshman year to less than fifty in my graduating class. Only two of those kids went on to college with me, and I don’t know what happened to them after that. This country is going to face major hardship-half a generation that didn’t go to school. We have to fix that, not only for the good of our country, but for the good of every individual that wants to make something of themselves.
“I can see Mayaren falling into destruction and disrepair-or flourishing beyond all belief. I need them to see that I believe this nation can flourish. We can be more than we are.”
He just stares at me. For a long moment, all is quiet. Finally, he speaks. “I love you.”
My breath catches. “Ben, two days isn’t-“
He shakes his head. “I have been infatuated with you since I first saw you. I watched you for months before the other night. The past few days? I’ve been completely taken in. But seeing you here, now, so strongly passionate about making your country a better place-this is the moment I fall in love. I know it may take you longer, and that’s okay. But I love you.”
Our eyes lock for a long moment before I break the stare. “Do you want to go to the beach? We’re done here, and we still have a few days.” Heat rushes to my cheeks; could I be any more awkward?
He smiles, slowly standing up. “Anything for you, my queen.” He reaches down to help me up, and I can feel warmth rushing through me as I accept.
We spend that afternoon and most of the evening on the beach, basking in the sun and swimming in the ocean still slightly cool from winter. The more time I spend with him, the more I realize that my first impression of him was truly truly wrong. He is not arrogant-in fact I start to believe that he really was trying to do something romantic. Attempt to connect with me on a personal level before we met in that room filled with royal officials and family, expectation marking our first moments together.
As this sun is setting, we lie on the sand. Our skin still damp and salty, my short locks standing in all different directions. He turns to look at me, and before either of us can say anything I close the gap between us and kiss him. I feel him smile as he kisses me back. I don’t know what love it, but I am confidant that I will learn with him at my side.
I do not condone underage drinking, in any situation. However, when mixing the prompt that I desired to follow and the characters that I decided to create, I realized what must be done. But just because my characters are doing it, doesn't mean that it's something I agree with. Thank you!
Tonight is my last night of freedom-the last night to get out and do what I love to do before the whole world finds out who I am. For the past 6 years I’ve been able to live my life quietly, grow up in relative obscurity. No one has seen my face and therefore no one could come up with a good excuse as to why I shouldn’t live a normal life. Go to school, have friends, have a job, and sneak out to my favorite karaoke bar every Saturday night. Even Theo, the muscle that has managed to discretely follow me everywhere I go, has no idea where I go when I disappear from my palace bedroom. And tonight is the last night that I get to do any of it.
It starts raining as I race down the long, clay driveway. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a puddle and stop to take it in. Tomorrow morning, before the sun comes up, I’ll be whisked away. The purple and blue streaks in my hair will be washed away, covered again in the chestnut shade I share with my mother and father. My choppy bangs will be evened out, pulled back into the extensions that will lengthen my choppy bob into something deemed fitting of the occasion.
The occasion. I see my emerald eyes roll back into my head at just the thought of what tomorrow holds. I start running again, the feeling of my boots digging into the wet earth propelling me forward. I slow where the driveway meets paved road. One glance at my watch tells me that for once I am early. I chuckle, wondering what Friz will say when she pulls up beside me. Thankfully, I don’t have to wonder for long. I turn my head when I hear the engine and watch her round the corner. Tires screech to a halt inches from my boots. She removes her helmet and shakes out her hair. I catch just a hint of a smirk on her face. “Well well well, someone is anxious to get out tonight.”
I grab my helmet from the back compartment of her bike. “More than you know.” She winks before putting her helmet back on. I barely have time to hop on behind her before she’s taking off.
I close my eyes, my breath coming slow and easy. This feeling, wind traveling past me, nothing to protect me if I fall, just uncertain enough to be scary. And yet just familiar enough to feel safe. I feel tears forming behind my lids and will them to stay away. Not only do I want to keep my makeup from smearing, but I want this night to be one that I never forget-and crying will not be a part of those memories.
Friz pulls into the parking lot of the bar and I cannot stop the smile from spreading across my face. Her kickstand splashes in a puddle, sending a spray of water over my boots as I remove my helmet. The name “Lip Service” was spelled out in large block letters lit from the inside by red fluorescents. The dot above the “i” blinked in and out of view, and the “v” looked more like a slash most nights, but the familiar sight filled my heart with warmth. This was home, as strange as it sounded.
“Ready for this?” Friz asks, pulling her cascading red curls into a high ponytail.
“More than you know.” I smile and take a deep breath as we walk inside, no one even bothering to ask for our ID’s. They’d long since been fooled by our fakes, and if anyone knows that we’re underage they don’t let on.
“Abby, Friz! Good ta’ see ya!” Mamma greets us from behind the bar, her voice hoarse from a decade too many of cigarettes, and motions towards the dance floor. “Everyone’s a’waitin’ on you darlin’, it bein’ your last night and all.” She winks at me and slides my favorite drink my way. She’d guessed my secret when I was in high school, soon after Friz and I had become regulars, and waited until I’d has just one too many to confront me about it. Thankfully, she’d kept quiet. But I always had a sneaking suspicion that she had the palace on speed dial-just in case.
“Since it’s my last night, we better make it good.” I grin as I hand her several bills before downing several gulps of my drink. She flipped through the bills, shaking her head. I’d handed her enough to pay for anything Friz and I might want tonight and then some.
“You wantin’ me to call ya a cab fer later?”
“Maybe.” I wink before slipping onto the dance floor. I see many familiar faces smiling at me as we dance and jump to the music blaring from the speakers mounted in each corner. I close my eyes and let the sound envelop me. The floor shakes with the rhythm of the bass and the footsteps of those around me. I feel alive, almost powerful, as the drink slowly starts to warm me. I down more of the drink, relishing in the fact that the liquid courage I’d once been scared of now comes crashing over me in a comfortable and familiar rush. Soon the beer is gone, the glass returned to Mamma at the counter, and Friz and I find ourselves on the dance floor surrounded by strangers and friends. It’s nearly midnight before Malone makes his way to the stage and taps the mic.
Everyone stops, the music fading to a slightly quieter backdrop as he speaks. “Good evenin’, good evenin’. Glad to see everyone’s enjoyin’ themselves. Now tonight we gots a special treat for ya-Miss Abby here is movin’ up an on this weekend, so she’s gonna get the honor of opening the mic tonight.” He winks at me and I feel warmth in my cheeks. Thankful for the cover of the makeup on my face, I walk over to the bar to select my song. Mamma meets me at the jukebox-like selection box, a tiny glass in her hand. “Slammer.” She says. I don’t hesitate to down it in one gulp; the burning in my throat makes my eyes water, but I smile again none the less.
“I know what song I want.” I flip through a few options before deciding it would be easier to just type it in. Once it’s selected, I make my way back to the stage. Malone hands me the mic, does an over-zealous bow as he exits the stage, and I am alone.
Staring out at the crowd, I can hear the frantic beating of my heart in the seconds before the music starts. After the first measure I see Friz grin and I know she’s recognized the song. I sing about being “immortal, but not for long” because that’s exactly how I feel tonight. The adrenaline, serotonin, and alcohol flooding my system has put me in a state of near euphoria by the time the song ends. I stop to catch my breath, not realizing just how energetic I’d been. The room explodes in applause and whistles, but it dies quickly as someone I don’t recognize joins me on the stage.
He claps slowly, sarcastically, as he walks closer. “Not bad babe, not bad at all. But can you pull off the same with a partner?”
I roll my eyes and gesture to the room. “Pick someone and you’ll see.”
“Oh, my choice is already made.” He takes the other mic from the stand and nods to Mamma in the back. She grimaces at him, looking to me for approval before she starts the song.
I shrug and roll my eyes before I nod. I glance at him angrily in the moments before the song starts. His short brown hair is in a neat style-too neat to blend in around here. The sleeves of his button down shirt are rolled up, and the bottom hung lose around his tight blue jeans. He smirked as the song started, his brown eyes mischievously looking me up and down.
I recognize the song almost immediately as Evanescence. Of course, he picks something where his part will be fairly minimal. Again, I roll my eyes as I start to sing.
As he starts in I realize that his voice isn’t half bad and begin to think that this could be fun. We start to move together, almost dancing even though we have to hold the microphones. He puts his arm around me and his hand on my hip. I try to pull away but his grip is too strong. Distracted now I miss a few words of the next line; this catches the attention of several of my friends. His hand moves lower, my heel comes down on his toe, I am released.
I sing facing him now, not willing to let him leave my sight. He takes this as some sort of signal. Grabbing my hand he twirls me around, pulling me closer to him with an entanglement of both our arms keeping me from getting away. I play it to the song, letting my head rest on his chest. My heel seeks out his foot again, but he’s quicker this time. With a quick push I am able to get myself free from his grasp. Abandoning the song now I attempt to storm away, but he grabs my hand and pulls me back so fast I am caught off guard. He takes this moment to plant an un-permitted kiss on my lips.
My knee meets his groin, his eyes fly open as he doubles over, I turn away. Before leaving him to sing falsetto, I thrust my elbow back and feel the hard lump of his nose crack from the force. My elbow throbs now, but I hardly notice as I storm off the stage.
Malone and several others take my place, roughly dragging him up and to the door where he is thrown out on his bum quite unceremoniously. Friz and Mamma meet me at the bar; I’m sure they can feel the heat radiating from my body-anger bringing my breaths in short, quick bursts. “I need another slammer.” I tell Mamma.
“I’d say so.” She walks off to prepare it and Friz sits down beside me.
“Do you need me to go kick his. . .” She trailed off, probably refraining from using language because of my slip earlier in the night.
“No, it’s fine. He’s just some creep.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it again and bites her lip. “If you’re sure you’re okay, I’m gonna step out for a bit. I’ll just be a couple of minutes.”
I sigh and put my head on the bar. “I’m fine.” As she stands to leave I think better of where I’d decided to place my head ad look up. I happen to see her phone as she walks out, but surely I’m seeing things. She wasn’t about to call Theo, what's she?
Mamma arrives with the shot and I thank her, promising to return for it in a minute. I walk to the window near the door, thankful it’s cracked open, and listen as Friz speaks into her cell phone.
“Hey, it’s me. He showed up tonight. . .yeah I know but this time she saw him. He was on stage with her, singing. He kissed her. . . .Yeah I know, I know, but don’t worry. Girl can take care of herself. He’s gonna be black and blue in a couple different places.”
I walk away before the conversation is over. “You okay darlin’?” Mamma asks as I sit back down with a huff. I shake my head then down the slammer.
“Can I have another?” I ask, disregarding her first question.
Instead of a slammer she hands me a beer. “Don’t wantcha doin’ too much at once.”
I roll my eyes and take a drink. A moment later, Friz joins us at the bar.
“Sorry about that.” She says, pulling her hair over her shoulder. “My mom texted me, it sounded important. Turns out she just finished binge watching The Office.”
She laughs, I drum my fingers on the bar once, twice, three times. Mamma makes herself scarce.
“What’s up Abbs? Are you sure you’re okay?” She looks genuinely concerned and I have to stifle a rueful laugh. I take another long drink before I speak.
“I should’ve seen it.” I mumble, half to her and half to myself. “Fast friends, too fast, on day one. I was naive, and you all took advantage of that. I thought I was living my life, being my own person, out from under the thumb of the palace and the watchful eye of my parents and my handler. When in reality, it was all a lie? And the only person in this world I’d call a friend. . .orchestrating half of it? Reporting back to Theo? To my parents? When were you going to tell me? Did you really think that was going to go over well?”
She sighs and motions to Mamma to bring us each another drink. She does quickly, then pats my arm in an attempt to be encouraging. Once we’re alone again, Friz begins to speak.
“Theo hired me right before you started school. I had signed up for training at the palace, but he offered something better. I’d never been to high school, had to drop out to keep up the house while mom worked. Theo said all I had to do was be your friend, keep an eye out for danger, and let him know if there was any trouble. He knew I could take care of myself and you if need be-at least long enough for him to get to us. So yeah, it started out as an assignment, a job, but Abbs” I jerk away as she reaches for my arm. For a moment I think I see pain in her eyes. Good, maybe she’ll start to understand. “Abby, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. Yeah, Theo caught wind of you sneaking out like a month into it, asked me where you were. I told him I could take care of us-I used to work in places ten times worse than this. He doesn’t follow us, he doesn’t even know what you do here. And believe me, if he told your parents we’d both lose our jobs.”
I finish my first drink, slamming it down with enough force to make the second one Mama had brought slosh onto the bar. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the anger, but my arms and face feel uncomfortably warm. “Get out.” I whisper.
“Abby, I can’t-“
“You’re fired, Friz.” My words hang in the air for a moment. “I wanted tonight to be a celebration with my friends. Clearly, you don’t fall into that category.”
She is silent for too long. Her eyes close as she stands, and I hope my words cut her just as deep as hers cut me. She leaves without a word, but I don't doubt that she's called Theo. I ask Mamma to play the song from earlier again and then head back out to the dance floor. Joining a group of girls I knew from past Saturdays, I lose myself in the music. The room vibrates even more now than it had earlier, the energy from the bodies and the music surrounding me, fueling me. I'm twirling one of the girls when my phone vibrates in my boot. I let her twirl me before I let go of her hand and check to see who wanted me. Theo, of course, outside and hoping I would join him without a scene.
I replace the phone and return to the bar, steading myself on the shoulders of a couple bystanders on the way. "You sure you don't want me to call ya a cab darlin'?" Mamma asks, her words sounding further away than she looked. The light behind her causing what looks to be a halo behind her head. "Abby?"
I nodded, reaching for my drink. Even now, no longer on the dance floor, I can feel the energy buzzing around me. I don't want it to stop. "I'm fine." I lie, knowing full well that soon enough Theo will be in looking for me. I close my eyes and let the atmosphere overwhelm me. The heat, the heartbeat in the music, the laughter and buzz of conversation; I swear the room is moving like we were on a boat when I feel Theo's presence beside me. I feel him grab my arm, lift me up, and then Mamma protests.
"Just where do you think you're gonna be takin' 'er?"
"Home." His voice is gruff, but kind.
My eyes still closed, I imagine Mamma's eyebrows shooting up. "Home? She ain't do home fer another couple a hours."
"She's coming home now. Clearly, she's in no state to be out."
No state to be out? "I'm fine, Theo!" I open my eyes and jump to my feet. The lights around me sparkle, and the boat we have to be on careened to the right. I hit a log.
No, the log was moving. I definitely hit Theo. Groaning, I let him hold me up. "I'm fine!" I insist, pushing against him.
"I'm taking you home, your highness."
"Shut up Theo!" A spark of anger shoots through me. "Don't give me away!" I know that there are tears in my eyes as I look around the bar, but no one seems to be looking our way. No one heard him. No one even notices that
Reluctantly I follow him outside. He opens the passenger side door for me, but I don't get in. Instead, I hold the door for balance and look up into the rain. Falling faster now, the droplets splash against my face. In the relative silence, minus the rushing in my ears, I can hear my grandfathers voice in my head. Grimacing, I shake it away. I don't want his memory here, not now. Not when I'm too drunk to keep from crying at the thought of disappointing him; if he could see me now I don't even want to know what he would say.
"Your highness" Theo bellows. Softer, he continues. "Abby, I have to get you home. Now."
I scowl and get into the car. The warmth of the heater a sharp contrast to the cool wind and rain. It feels almost suffocating, so I roll the window down.
It's not long before we're home. The trees swirled around the car as we drove, the lights from other cars adding a sparkle to the wet blackness.
I have the vague knowledge that Theo is helping me out of the car, away from the stairs to the main entrance, and around the side to the kitchen door. My mother is there. She's never in the kitchen. The lights around her and her attendants are large circles bouncing in and out of my vision. Her face is red, like she's mad. I realize she's probably mad at me. The room goes black.
Next thing I know I am lying on my bed. My mother is shooing out attendants. I feel her sit down next to me, the pillow beneath my face shifting. "Abigail." She whispers. Her voice laced with emotion that my befuddled brain cannot recognize.
I don't know how much time passes before she moves again. I feel her fingers fumbling with the zippers on my boots. First one, then another, are removed and places neatly in my closet. There is no sound of them landing across the room. "Mom" I mumble, desperately wanting to tell her how sorry I am that I've screwed up. I try to sit up but my arms have no strength. I sigh. My mind swirling, I cannot string together a comprehensive thought. The lights go out, a blanket is pulled over me. Even though I fight it, I feel myself being pulled into the oblivion of sleep. Even in this state, I have the awful feeling that I am going to get the what for come morning.
~
I hear the commotion before it reaches my door. My mother ordering attendants this way and that-everything has to be ready for the ceremony that would take place in-I open my eyes and blink rapidly as I try to make out the time on the clock-three hours and 46 minutes. I burry my head under my pillows seconds before my door flies open with a crack.. She's mumbling to herself, something about how she still cannot believe it. I must still be in trouble. I hear the curtains open, hear her start my song on the record player. Unsure if this is the first form of punishment or a way for her to self soothe, I decide to avoid mentioning that this song makes my ears bleed on a normal day-today it's about ten times worse.
I attempt to take stock of how I feel before she invades my darkness as she has invaded my room. Rock vibrating in my skull, limbs filled with something slightly lighter than lead, stomach empty and grumbling. Worse than the average Sunday, by far, but nothing I couldn't handle. Just one more thing to make this day the most unforgettable of my life. The thought intensifies my pain, or maybe I just tense thinking about what the day promises to hold. I'm only allowed a few more precious seconds in the dark before my mother pulls the blankets off of me and tosses the pillow across the room. Oh dear.
"Abigail Zamora Prescott, it is time for you to get up."
The full name. I groan and slowly attempt to sit up. "Good morning mom." My voice doesn’t sound quite there yet.
"Don't you 'good morning mom' me. No ma'am, you're not getting out of this that easily. Up, now." Although her voice is steady, it holds the commanding tone of a queen rather than that of a mother. Reluctantly, I obey. As soon as my feet hit the floor her attendants are shoving a cup of black coffee at me. I take it, and immediately taste the bitter-sour tang of one of our families natural pain remedies. "Yuck." I mumble, taking another swig. I tried to get it down my throat with as little contact with my tongue as possible.
"You want to go out and get drunk? You can deal with what needs done to get you presentable for your presentation today. No complaints." The heavy stare from her emerald eyes so similar to my own keeps me silent as I continue to drink. Scarcely do I finish the first cup when another is thrust my way, the dirty mug carried to the tea service brought up from the kitchen. This one doesn't taste like Fellonwood root. In fact, it tastes like the blend I keep hidden in the freezer. A small smile parts my lips as I let myself enjoy the brew. From the closet, I hear her shout. "Out of those clothes! You need to get showered and dressed to meet Harmony in an hour."
My heart drops, I sink back down to the bed. "An hour?" I though I had at least double that before I had to meet Harmony. I don't want to transform into her alternate version of myself until I have to.
"You're meeting her in an hour so she has plenty of time to ensure that you look like a proper princess is supposed to. This is your first appearance to the public in nearly 7 years; I won't have you ruining it any more than you probably already have." Ouch. But, I understand.
A new wave of grief washes over me. My mother has most likely been planning this day since I was born, never knowing that it would be my first appearance to the kingdom as Princess since my 13th birthday. How could I have been so selfish? What had driven me to drink so uncontrollably? I think back to last night, a vague memory of the man on stage with me, kissing me. Sitting at the bar with Friz. Then, nothing.
I'm staring guiltily at the floor when my mother reappears. "What are you waiting for? Shower, now!" I move without responding, my limbs still heavy. Once alone in the bathroom I open a drawer and pull out a sealed container of honnyseed. I pop two into my mouth and within a minute I get sick. After composing myself, feeling very foolish, I think that another dose couldn’t possibly hurt since I didn’t keep the first one down. These were the best way I had found to get rid of the sluggish feeling I sometimes dealt with on Sunday morning.
The hot shower does wonders to wake me up and ease some of the heaviness in my limbs. Underneath the spray, I am almost able to forget about the events of last night-the events soon to come this morning. When I am finally able to part with the warmth, I know that it will be useless to dress. Surely, they already have my gown chosen for me. I pull on my bathrobe and pad back into my bedroom. Harmony is already waiting, her portable salon all set up on the other side of the room. Sadness fills me as I realize that I am about to say goodbye to the image of myself that I has crafted over the years.
My mother is busying herself straightening the gown that had been chosen for me. I wonder if it is at all similar to the one that she wore. I watch her, unnoticed, for several long moments before I realize that she has not looked at me once this morning. Not even a glance my way. I move to stand beside her, hoping for something. I get nothing.
“Mom” I mumble. Still nothing. “Mom.” This time I am louder, I want her to know I will be heard. When she still refuses to look at me, I snap. “Mother!” She jumps at the volume of my voice, but still she does not look up. “Will you look at me? Please? For King’s sake, yell at me! Scream! Curse my name and the ground I walk on, tell me how angry you are that I all but ruined this perfect day you had planned. Hit me, I don’t care; but please, please, just look at me!” I feel foolish, screaming at her to look at me while everyone else in the room looks on in shock.
Her frail hands drop the jewels she had been attempting to place about the neckline of the dress. She stiffens with what can only be described as the practiced posture of a queen. I realize that I may have just made the situation much, much worse.
“Harmony, girls, you may go.” She says. “I will send for you when we are ready to begin.” They all leave without so much as a concerned glance between them, tripping over one another in an attempt to exit as quickly as possible. In their absence the room is quiet, deathly still. I dare not move as my mother turns to face me. Her green eyes hold a storm that I realize I have just unleashed on myself.
The last thing I expected was for her to actually hit me. I gasp, frozen in shock at the stinging in my face. Tears fill my eyes, more reflexive than from the pain of she slap. I know that I probably deserved much worse than a single strike. “You are an adult Abigail,” She begins, her voice both steady yet wavering “you can make your own decisions. However,” her finger presses to my chest, and I retreat a single step. She follows. “the fact that your decisions included being selfish to the point of all but ruining something that your father and I have been meticulously planning for months-years even-is what infuriates me.” She turns away from me, and I don’t know if she is done or simply attempting to organize her thoughts.
She continues before I can form a response. “You are a strong, level headed girl. What on earth posses you to go out and get drunk? And every weekend? Abigail, it’s unwise! Not to mention unhealthy! Do you even know how much danger you put yourself in every single time you went to that filthy bar?”
I take a moment to let her words flow through me before I speak. I find myself the one with the calm and level voice in this moment-a rare turning of the tables. I find that I don’t want to defend myself-there is nothing I can say or do that would be sufficient. Instead, I feel heat at her description of my escape. “Lip Service is not a filthy bar, mother. It’s an escape.” Before I even have time to think about it, I find myself telling her the truth. Exactly why I was drawn not just to Lip Service, but to our little city.
“There, I was not Princess Abigail Zamora, heir to her Grandfathers kingdom. I was just Abby, the girl who could sing. I didn’t get drunk every time I went there-trust me, it’s not a fun feeling. But a beer, maybe two, and all the etiquette that had been drilled into my brain was gone. The princess that you trained up was gone, and all that remained was the girl that Grandfather taught to sing. Lip Service is the only place in all Mayaren that I can be myself. I can be the girl that grandfather saw, the one that he said would change the way his kingdom was run for the better. Not the princess that everyone so desperately wants me to be. Not the leader that dad is expecting to ascend his throne. Just a girl, having fun on the weekend in the way most girls her age do.”
My fists are clenched, balling the sleeves of the bathrobe. I remain calm, poised, exactly as I was taught, waiting for her reply.
While her features don’t soften, her demeanor does. Her shoulders fall ever so slightly forward, her knees unlock. She sits on my bed and motions for me to join her. Once I do, it is her turn to let my words sink in. I watch as she tries to make sense of it all. I know that I have earned punishment, but this is also the first time she has heard me speak the truth about what I thought of life as princess of Mayaren.
“Four years.” Her words are barely a whisper. “Theo said you’d first gone to Lip Service four years ago. Right after grandfathers death.”
I nod. I was the only one in the room when my grandfather passed. He wanted to talk to me, the next heir to his kingdom, alone. I would be the first girl to marry a second or third born prince, ending the age old Prescott lineage of kings.
“It made me forget. The atmosphere, the music, the alcohol. For a few precious hours, I didn’t feel that grief. It was harder than you know to keep from going every night.”
Again, she seems to think over my words before responding. “What did he say?” Her voice is only slightly louder now, still full of caution and concern.
I shrug. How do I even begin to explain? “He told me-He told me not to listen to dad, that he was blind to what was happening in Mayaren. He said I had a front row seat in my school, told me to start paying attention to those that dropped in and out-those that never came back. He wanted me to listen to the gossip about the town and about dad.” I pause, wondering if I should continue. “It’s awful mom; you can’t imagine. Grandfather saw the need for change in his kingdom, I see it too. He made me promise that I would do something about it, and I did. I told him that I would keep my promise as long as he promised to stick around. He just smiled and said that he’d always be around, in my heart.” And then I sang, but I don’t tell her that. I don’t tell her how I sang him to sleep, sang until his breath stopped, and sobbed for what seemed like an eternity before a servant finally arrived with his supper.
I feel her hand on mine, look up to see a few stray tears sliding down her cheeks. “No child should have that burden to bare.”
I shake my head. “That’s just it. Even as a child I saw nothing wrong with that fact that I was given this burden. That’s why I wanted to escape. I knew, despite hating to admit it, that one day I would be the suitable princess that you’d raised. I could feel it in my bones. But it wasn’t who I wanted to be, not yet anyway. So I did my best to be as unsuitable as a princess for as long as I could. The hair, the piercings, I half hoped you’d decide I wasn’t suitable and have another kid or something. But. . .the day’s here.” I can’t leave it at that. It doesn’t sound final, and it doesn’t sound encouraging. That cannot be what I leave her with before I take the kingdom. So I grip her hand tighter until she looks me in the eye. “I promise you, I am going to be the best princess, best queen, I can. . .it just might be a little less conventional than you had hoped.”
I almost fall over when she hugs me. I feel her shake her head and attempt to stifle a laugh. “This does not mean that you are out of the frying pan, you understand?”
I did nothing to stop my chuckle. “Hey, at least I’m not in the fryer yet.”
She pulled away and held my face in her hands. “I know that you are going to be a good ruler. You care about the people of this kingdom and you know more about them than I or your father could even imagine. They are going to love you.”
“Or hate me.” I say truthfully. “I was in their world for years, and I couldn’t do much to help.”
“But you’re about to change it.” She stands and motions for me to give her a proper hug. I don’t argue. I can see us in the mirror along the wall, my head resting on her shoulder and hers on mine.
“I really am sorry, mom.” And this time I mean it. “Something last night made me angry-I didn’t mean to go that far.”
She nods. “I know.” A sigh. She runs her fingers through my hair as she adds, “It’s a lesson-a queen cannot let her emotions get the best of her. Not in public, and not around alcohol.”
I nod this time, and after a long moment she finally lets go. “You still have to be my version of suitable for today, okay? I think all this” she motions to my hair and face, “combined with a wedding, combined with presenting you again. . .they’re going to be a little overwhelmed. Ease them into it, okay?”
I attempt to laugh. “Okay. But, can the piercings stay?” She eyes the multiple piercings down each ear, the one around my eyebrow, and the one in my nose. With a sigh, she concedes. “I suppose. Rather that be known now than be added later.”
I give her a mischievous smile. “Well, in that case, what about-“
“The hair stays my way.” Her eyes begged me not to protest. I wondered if she would be able to stand any more disappointment today.
“Okay, okay, fine.” I smile, she smiles. Finally, at least for the time being, there is peace between us.
~
Every little girl grows up imagining her wedding day. Most imagine a church or some beautiful venue that means something to them and their groom. They imagine getting ready with their closest friends, their mother putting the final touches on the dress, and walking down the aisle where their father will give them away to the man they they have fallen deeply, hopelessly in love with. Today was my wedding day, and I knew it would be nothing like that.
We walk down the hallway that sparkles from the polishing the servants had given it in the last several days. I see my reflection as we pass by, the striking difference startling me yet again. My black and blue hair had been cut even shorter, into a pixie that I really quite liked, and covered over with a wig. Long chestnut colored locks curled about my face and down my back, my bangs straight across my forehead. A thin gold band was woven through the hair on top, creating a delicate crown. Harmony had done my makeup naturally, in such a way that the piercings hardly drew attention away from the rest of the outfit.
The outfit. Where to even begin? The dress, white brushes the floor with every step I take. The silver scrappy heels I wear do nothing to lift it. Sleeveless, with a flowing piece of material dipping down my back and attached at each shoulder by golden broaches. The broaches my mother had worn on her wedding, and my fathers mother, and every queen of Mayaren for the past 20 generations.
My stomach is in knots and my head is beginning to pound again as I stand before the closed doors of the ballroom. With attendants on either side, I’ve lost track of my mother. Just when I think she had slipped away to her place beside my father, suddenly she is beside me, handing me another cup of coffee. This time, I am sipping it through a straw. It’s my coffee, but it’s laced with fellonwood.
“Thank you.” I whisper, savoring a long sip.
“Are you ready?” Her voice is no louder than my own, and I know that the ornate doors will be opening any moment.
I sigh. “I’m as ready as I can be. It’s going to be an incredibly long day.”
She nods, probably remembering her own wedding day. Before we can say anything else, the doors are opened and I am presented to the ballroom filled with friends and family from neighboring kingdoms. Surely somewhere among them is my betrothed, but I wont know who he is until we are presented after mass.
The ceremony is long, and even though I’ve set through it thousands of times in my 20 years, it seems to drag on even longer than usual. I catch myself tapping my foot in anxiousness as the sacraments are passed along the tables-no doubt looking like a very impatient princess. I partake, and when we bow for prayer my mother puts her hand on my knee gently, silencing the quiet tap-tap-tap of my toe. When we look up, I know that it is time time. The Priest speaks about my coming of age, the traditions of our kingdom, and the match that he foresaw going very well in myself and a prince I now knew was named Benjamin. He spoke of my fathers reign and my grandfathers reign, and how this wedding would see the close of a line of Prescott kings, and hopefully bring about a long line of Sheppard kings. My stomach twisted; that would be part of my job-bearing sons.
I am called to the stage now. Slowly, I rise. The heels are high, but no higher than those on the boots that I had grown accustomed to wearing. I’m thankful to possess the skill of walking in them confidently as I take my place behind a microphone. The first measures of music begin, and I take a deep breath.
The song builds slowly, the ancient language filling the ballroom almost hauntingly. My grandfather taught me the song, and insisted that I sing it today. He said that it speaks of hope, prosperity, and love. I don’t know what the words I sing mean, but I know that they sound beautiful. I know that they bring back memories from when my grandfather first started teaching me the song when I was 12 years old. It has been in my head for so long, I could probably sing it backwards if I tried. All too soon, it comes to an end. The music fades away, and I am left standing along on the stage.
I glance around nervously, looking for Benjamin in the crowd. Shouldn’t he be standing up? I bite my lip, considering for the first time that perhaps he didn’t want this-that he had changed his mind and decided to leave me stranded. Wouldn’t that be just my luck?
The seconds between the song ending and the opening of the ballroom doors are torturous, but they are nothing compared to the confusion I feel when I lay eyes on him. He is flanked on either side by his mother and father, good friends of my parents and the rules of a kingdom along our border. His brown hair is no longer neat, his green eyes hold both excitement and embarrassment as he takes in my dress. My mouth falls open, and I am unable to think clearly as they walk towards me. His nose is purple and blue, something makeup hides well until he is close enough to take my hand. Under his eyes seemed darker than normal as well, but I don’t know if that’s from my elbow of from lack of sleep. He looks sheepish now, holding my hand as gingerly as possible; it’s as if he thinks I’ll hit him again.
He leads me to the Priest, and the most anticipated ceremony of the day begins. Different than most, Royal weddings are very fast and simple. Rarely do the bride and groom speak vows of love for one another. In most cases, as in mine, the two only meet at the alter. Instead, we speak vows of how we will work together to rule the kingdom; more for the people than for each other. Almost robotically, I recite mine. My voice echoes through the ballroom.
“I, Abigail Zamora Prescott, promise to rule alongside you until we are parted in death. I promise to be the counsel, the confidant, the advisor that you need to rule. I promise to help you keep the needs of Mayaren and her people before our own, and to support you in all decisions you make as ruler of this land. In sickness I promise to speak for you, in health I promise to stand by you, and in love I promise to remain faithful to you until death do us part. My husband, my king, I honor you.” I choke on the line about love, suddenly back in the present. Anger begins to boil up in me again, quelled only by the gentleness in his voice as he begins to say his piece. Far from what I know he had been forced to memorize in grade school, his words are more personal. A knife to the heart, and a white hot cinder of embarrassment.
“Abigail, I take you as my wife. My queen. I promise to rule alongside you and to put your people and your kingdom first, learning from you what needs done before making decisions on my own. I promise that my intentions are not for evil, and that I wish only to help you serve the people of Mayaren. I promise to love you with my whole heart, remaining faithful to you not only until the day we are parted in death, but to the day we are joined again. I promise to listen, ensuring that you, your concerns, and your ideas are heard and taken as seriously as my own. I promise to help you change Mayaren for the better. My wife, my queen, I honor you.”
There are no “I Do’s”.
The Priest pronounces us man and wife, we turn to face the crowd, and they explode in applause and cheers. We march arm and arm through the ballroom and into the hallway. The second the doors close behind us, I grab his arm. I’m running, dragging him behind me until we are outside, far from the ballroom and the crowds that will be expecting our return by now. After all, the exit is just for show.
“What are you doing here?” I hiss.
He sheepishly ducks his head; I bite the inside of my lip, frustration and fury filling me. Finally, after a long moment of trysting to order my thoughts, I shout. “Explain!” I don’t know what else to ask.
He sighs and sits down on the stone steps, gesturing for me to join him. I want to be defiant, but I’ve just promised to honor him for the rest of my life. It wouln’t bode well for us to have people see me disobeying him seconds after we’d tied the knot.
“I thought you knew.” His statement is so simple, so quiet, I have no doubt that it’s true. I can feel my grip on my anger slipping.
“You thought I knew who you were? How, better yet, why would I know?”
He shrugs, seemingly attempting to string together his next thought. “You were so willing to sing with me, to dance with me. I thought for sure that you knew too. I was over the moon. When I kissed you-I thought it was amazing. We’d found each other before we were meant to, shared a kiss and a memory from before our wedding. It was something they didn’t have control of. Apparently I didn’t either. I was caught completely off guard.”
“You were caught off guard?” I nearly shout. “I’s already had two drinks, I was so close to drunk! Did you even consider the possibility that I didn’t know? How I would react to being kissed by a total stranger? Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Guess what, me either! I drank nearly double what I usually do, and don’t remember anything after singing with you!”
His eyes are downcast now, staring at the ground in front of him. “I honestly thought that you knew.” Was all he could say. “I just wanted to make a flashy, romantic first impression.”
I sigh, my anger being away faster than I’d like it to. I find it difficult to stay mad when he looks so upset. I guess that last night wasn’t his normal. After several long minutes, I turn to him and extend my hand. “Hi, I’m Abigail. I’m your new wife.”
His eyebrows raise in bewilderment, but he takes my hand. “Hi Abby, I’m Ben.”
Hearing my name from his lips, the name that I had chosen for myself outside the palace walls, sounds oddly comforting. We sit in silence for a few moments longer, transgressions forgiven, and I try to work out how we will do this. We had a month before my parents stepped down, became the King and Queen Regant. Then we would take over. One month before we would become the new rulers of Mayaren.
“So” his voice startles me after the long silence. “What are we going to do now? We’ve got four weeks to get to know each other, to figure out what we’re going to implement in our first year. Where do you want to start?”
I sigh and shake my head. “Where to start? I think I need to start with getting out of this dress and wig. I’m dying in the heat.”
“Ohh, it’s a wig. That makes sense. I wasn’t as drunk as I thought I was last night.”
I have to stifle a laugh. “No, no you weren’t. My mother just thinks that a princess should be presented looking like. . .a lady, I guess. Honestly, I didn’t ask a lot of questions-I was in hot water this morning.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Just how plastered did you get?”
“Plastered enough; I still have a headache.” I reach to rub my eyes, remember my make makeup, and think better of it. “I just want out of here.”
“I can help arrange that.” Her voice causes me to jump and turn around. Gone is the black leather of last night, replaced by professional attire that my mother would be proud of. Actually, the longer I look at the outfit the more I think that my mother picked it out.
“Friz? What are you doing?” I stand and spin around to face her, teetering slightly in my heels.
“It’s Francesca, your highness. I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but your mother gave me this job about a month ago. I should’ve mentioned it but-“
“Wait, my mom? You know my mom? You’re going to have to back up.”
I’m met with a questioning look. “You don’t remember last night, our fight?”
I shake my head, “No. I remember this bozo kissing me and being really angry, but I don’t remember fighting.”
Color drains from her face. “O-Oh. Well, then we probably need to talk. You were mad, yeah, but you were mad at me.”
It’s my turn to be confused. “What? Friz, whatever it was it couldn’t have been that bad, right? I’d remember. Are we okay?”
She bites her lip and sighs. “I think so, for now, but that conversation has to happen. For now, I can help you get out of here. Your parents kind of set up a little escape for you.”
“An escape?” Ben stood beside me now, his close proximity sending electricity up my side.
“You’re not actually being presented today-It’ll be next week. Abby-your highness-there’s a letter from your parents in the limo, along with several days worth of clothes for both of you. I guess it’s a thing.”
Ben nods and I glance up at him. He stands several inches taller than me in my heels. How did I not notice that last night? “My parents said that we would have a few days to ourselves before preparation.” he says.
Preparation. I didn’t even want to think about it. How was I supposed to explain my plan to my father? The King that saw no wrong in how his kingdom worked currently.
“Let’s get you two out of here. Abby-“ Friz grabs my hand and sends a pleading look Ben’s way. Once he’s out of earshot, she says. “We’ll talk when you get back, okay? You two have fun.” Her smile is small but genuine, and I know that no matter what she has to tell me, I will be grateful to have her around the palace.
I look back at Ben, waiting by a limo that has pulled up to the building. With one final wink at Friz I smirk. “I think we will.”
~
We had locked ourselves in the castle by the ocean over the past two days, comparing and contrasting the plans that we had for the kingdom. So far, I’m presently surprised. The plans that we had lined up almost perfectly-even as far as the exact same idea on some points.
“Okay, lets go over this again.” I sigh, looking out the window to the beach. I can smell the salt water, the sand, practically feel the sun on my skin.
“Okay, so first:” Ben started “We take away the ban on women's working hours-they can now work whenever they want, for however long they want. We extend the hours of every daycare facility under our control-that’ll open up a few jobs right there too. We still need to talk about the “Finish Strong Incentive”. What exactly will that include?”
“Free meals at school, breakfast and lunch, as well as weekend packs sent home to any family that had a father or son that died in the war-regardless of the mother's current marital status. They got next to nothing under my dad’s leadership-I want them to know that I care about the sacrifices that they made.”
Ben nods and scribbles in his notebook. “And we plan to fund this by opening up the mines again?”
I nod, pointing to a spot on the map that lay between us on the floor. “My dad closed them down during the war-said we needed the soldiers. But they were never reopened. We didn’t have enough men. But, if we open them now we have lots of young men that will want to work. With them working in the mines, there will be jobs opening up left and right in town for the women.”
His pencil doesn’t leave the page for a long moment. Finally he points to a crumpled piece of paper near my elbow. “What about that? Lots of guys will want to join up if it means free education.”
I un-crumple my paper, reading the scrawled title at the top. “Higher Education Motive”. “I want this to be accessible to girls too, Ben. They can serve just as well, and it could be their only chance to go to college.”
He raised his eyebrow. “You want girls in the Kings army?”
I cross my arms and sit up straighter. “You don’t?”
His eyes widen. “Why do I suddenly feel like a deer in headlights?”
“Are you seriously going to tell me that you hadn’t thought of opening the Kings army to women? Even your parents let women on the battlefield.”
“Yeah, as medical. I don’t want them fighting-it we lose too many young women the next generation is all but wiped out.”
“The same is true for if we lose too many young men. By that logic, it’s best is there is a mix of female and male fighting-that way we still have a good mix back home.”
He blinks. “We’ve been married forty-eight hours and already you’ve managed to make me hate it when you’re right.”
I grin. “So, we open it to the girls?”
“Sure” he sighs. “but, they still have to pass the physical.”
I raise my eyebrow again. “We’re not going to discuss that-are we?”
“Uh, no. No, we are not. Are we done?” He hands me his notebook and I read aloud what he’s written.
Benjamin and Abbigail’s Plan of Action
Reopen the Diamond Mines-this creates jobs as well as funds for
Finish Strong Incentive-free breakfast and lunch for all students, as well as weekend packs for all families that lost a father or brother in the Great War
Higher Education Motive-every year spent in service of the King’s Army earns you one year of tuition at the local college
Repeal of Ban on Women's Working Hours-no longer are women limited to working between the hours of 9am and 5pm.
Daycare Extension-All government funded daycares will now be open from 6am to 10pm, giving mothers more needed leeway to work.
“I think this is perfect. At the very least, it’s a good start. I want my people to know that we care about them, and the state that this nation has been in for the past 11 years. My father didn’t see-why, I don’t know, but he didn’t. I see. I want them to know that my years spent in their school were not for personal enjoyment. I wanted to see, understand. So many girls dropped out to care for their siblings so that their mother could work during the day. So many boys left so that work to support their families. My class went from over one hundred in my freshman year to less than fifty in my graduating class. Only two of those kids went on to college with me, and I don’t know what happened to them after that. This country is going to face major hardship-half a generation that didn’t go to school. We have to fix that, not only for the good of our country, but for the good of every individual that wants to make something of themselves.
“I can see Mayaren falling into destruction and disrepair-or flourishing beyond all belief. I need them to see that I believe this nation can flourish. We can be more than we are.”
He just stares at me. For a long moment, all is quiet. Finally, he speaks. “I love you.”
My breath catches. “Ben, two days isn’t-“
He shakes his head. “I have been infatuated with you since I first saw you. I watched you for months before the other night. The past few days? I’ve been completely taken in. But seeing you here, now, so strongly passionate about making your country a better place-this is the moment I fall in love. I know it may take you longer, and that’s okay. But I love you.”
Our eyes lock for a long moment before I break the stare. “Do you want to go to the beach? We’re done here, and we still have a few days.” Heat rushes to my cheeks; could I be any more awkward?
He smiles, slowly standing up. “Anything for you, my queen.” He reaches down to help me up, and I can feel warmth rushing through me as I accept.
We spend that afternoon and most of the evening on the beach, basking in the sun and swimming in the ocean still slightly cool from winter. The more time I spend with him, the more I realize that my first impression of him was truly truly wrong. He is not arrogant-in fact I start to believe that he really was trying to do something romantic. Attempt to connect with me on a personal level before we met in that room filled with royal officials and family, expectation marking our first moments together.
As this sun is setting, we lie on the sand. Our skin still damp and salty, my short locks standing in all different directions. He turns to look at me, and before either of us can say anything I close the gap between us and kiss him. I feel him smile as he kisses me back. I don’t know what love it, but I am confidant that I will learn with him at my side.
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