Princess Ben (19 page)

"We did not kiss!" Prince Florian hissed, unable to contain himself. "Nor shall we ever!"

Florian's interruption, his unprecedented disrespect and rancorous scowl, stunned the court.

The ambassador shifted, adjusting his collar. "Ahem.Yes. Be that as it may, the princess's recovery now raises other issues. The obligations of my position and my monarch require I point out that the princess has not, and I fear will never, display the qualities essential to a head of state."

Hidden on the far side of the portal, I fumed and squirmed. Bad enough that I must listen to this searing criticism, but his presentation to the entire Montagne court—some of its members nodding their agreement!—wounded me beyond measure.

"Her apathy, languor, and gluttony, her patent disregard for the obligations of her rank and future position—all of which she displayed at the winter's festivities in a manner unforgettable to observers—these liabilities lead to one conclusion: that the ancient nation of Montagne will suffer grievously, and perhaps perish altogether, should she rule." The ambassador drew a breath. "Therefore my king, seeking the security and well-being of the populace of this fair country, makes a Claim of Benevolent Succession to this throne."

Benevolent succession? I had never heard the term. From the anxiety that flashed across the face of Lord Frederick, however, he knew it all too well.

The ambassador waited. Sophia looked to Lord Frederick.

"Greatly we appreciate your solicitous concern for our people," the man began at last. "Benevolent succession, however, is a most serious matter, determining the fate of every man and woman among us, and I beg time to consider your claim ere we reply."

The ambassador nodded. "I could ask nothing less, were I in your position. Shall two months be period enough?"

Lord Frederick turned to his queen, but she remained as a statue. "We would prefer four," he answered at last. "We shall use them wisely."

With more bows and flourishes, the Drachensbett ambassadors withdrew. Soon as the door closed behind them, the queen spoke. "We would be alone. Frederick?"

In small knots of worried discussion, the lords and ladies and burghers made their way from the throne room until only Sophia and her most trusted advisor remained.

"What, pray tell, is benevolent succession?" demanded the queen, free at last to pace off her wrath.

"It is, Your Majesty, a most dreadful turn of events. Many centuries ago, the countries of this region settled upon the practice. When, as in our current condition, the heir to the nation provokes ... concern, and no other heir exists, a neighboring kingdom may claim the throne as theirs, absorbing the land without bloodshed, revolution, or anarchy."

"And the absorbed nation permits this?"

"If the alternative be anarchy, yes. The claim is never made casually, and the threatened country may demand independent assessment of the heir in question."

"As if assessment would work in our favor," the queen sniffed. "We are a sovereign nation! We shall reject at once such impertinence!"

Lord Frederick shook his head sadly. "No Claim of Benevolent Succession has been tendered for more than a hundred years; such is its gravity. But when last a claim was made, one hundred thirty-two years ago, and a nation no larger than ours rejected it, the Baron of Farina, being so snubbed by the good people of Alpsburg, attacked the country and burnt every building in it to the ground." He paused to collect his breath, and to wipe a tear from his eye. "Your Majesty, I fear we are doomed."

***

Burnt every building to the ground.
The lord's words rang in my ears, and my own tears flowed at his hopeless resignation. I stumbled blindly through the passageways, the joy that had so recently filled me now vanished as a drop of water vanishes in a mighty conflagration. Poor Montagne! That my lovely beloved country should be crushed under the boot of Drachensbett! The temerity, the boasting, cowardly imperiousness of those awful men ... To kill my family, laying the blame on dragons or pixies or whatever fantastical creature
seemed most appropriate to finger, then plot an infiltrating attack across the mountains—pausing only to determine first if the throne might be taken bloodlessly, and heartlessly, via my hand—then furthermore, not a day after failing to claim me through an obscure and questionable prophesy, to degenerate to a most ancient and brutal institution that they might take Montagne as their own ... How dare they! How dare!

Ensnarled in my thoughts, I howled in frustration, startling two guards in the Hall of Flags, which I happened to be passing at the moment. Marvelous. Now rumors of witchcraft would resume as well. That wretched benevolent succession. Benevolent, indeed! It be more devilry than kindness. And to think
my
name, my given name, and that awful term coincided! Insult heaped upon insult.

Arriving at my bedroom, I collapsed into a dusty tangle of brocade and despair. Uninvited, my dreams of Prince Florian's entrance to this room came to mind, his tender expression of care and delight. How profound the contrast between that handsome face and his present scowl, or his disdainful appearance yesterday as he had struggled to kiss the enchanted figure before him.

At once the words that I had labored so hard to hold back now flooded my consciousness, those awful, searing terms with which the Drachensbett ambassador had impugned every aspect of my being: apathetic, slothful, dim ... I could not remember every particular criticism, but the gist of his indictment, accepted by the entire Montagne court without even an attempt at my defense, was without doubt the most horrific insult I could ever imagine.

And yet, as I lay sobbing on the carpet, a small part of me could not but admit that the words, savage though they might have been, were not, alas, untrue. If one's sole opportunity to determine my character came about at the ball, what other conclusion could be drawn? That night I had behaved as a sulky and self-pitying imbecile. Since arriving in the castle a year ago, I had not once (my sobs intensified as I considered each damning scene) displayed the slightest ability for or inclination toward the responsibilities of royalty. To be sure, the curriculum through which I suffered could scarce inspire enthusiasm in even a conscientious princess. Yet my flagrant dismissal of every aspect of court life would lead the most sympathetic of observers to determine that I was unfit in every way for the crown.

Through the lush carpet, I could sense footsteps approaching. The bedroom door rattled, and instinctively I huddled closer to the floor.

"Ben?" Hildebert called. "Unlock this door, now."

"No!" I answered, my sobs returning in force. "Go away!"

Is that how a princess acts?
whispered a voice inside my head. I sobbed louder, but my conscience, now awakened, was not so easily suppressed.
Remain there sobbing, and you'll fulfill all Drachensbett's predictions.

"Silence!" I hissed. "I am weary! I have suffered—cannot you see that?"

Poor thing,
murmured my conscience in a most irritating manner.

With a resentful sigh, I sat up. "Just a moment," I called to Hildebert. "I need to—to freshen up."

"Shall I begin your bath?" she asked.

"Ah ... yes."

That would be quite considerate of you,
prodded my conscience.

"That would be quite considerate of you," I continued, though I could not help rolling my eyes.

"Oh—thank you, Your Highness. 'Tis very nice of you to say so."

I flushed with shame at Hildebert's gratitude. Plainly I had not paid her adequate courtesy.

I stumbled to the looking glass. With greasy and tangled curls atop a pouting, tear-smeared face, I looked truly abominable. Never had a girl less resembled a princess. And yet, despite my appearance, I could not be as awful as that Drachensbett monster had made out. I must have some redeeming qualities...

At once, a thought struck me. Lord Frederick had said the Claim of Benevolent Succession could be voided if the heir in question was gauged to be competent. Despite all my public misconduct, in the past year I had learned the Elemental Spells, the Doppelschläferin, and the preparation and flying of a magic broom; I had survived two months as prisoner of war, saving the life of the captain Johannes in the process; I had escaped the dungeons of Fortress Drachensbett, and after an arduous journey successfully reunited with my double, so preserving her, and all Montagne, from Prince Florian's rapacity. As ever my life mattered, and the lives of my people, I would somehow master the despicable art of being a princess.

I
N WHICH MY GREATEST HORROR IS NARROWLY AVOIDED, AND THEN MOST PLEASANTLY COMES TO PASS

My first challenge as a resolute young princess arrived not five minutes after my heartfelt vow. I entered the adjoining room as Hildebert finished drawing my bath, and stood as always that she might release me from the ball gown and multitudinous undergarments that had encased my body, or one of them, these past months. The woman had tact enough, given my recent hysterics, not to inquire as to how I had covered myself in dust. Nonetheless, she scowled and tsked as she removed my gown, crinolines, and petticoats, and could not suppress a gag as the true strength of my unwashed body reached her nose.

"They never mentioned this part of the enchantment, she muttered, unlacing my corset. She knelt to unroll my stockings, and gasped. "Your Highness, what's happened to you?

"Whatever do you mean—? I began, and caught sight of my reflection. Clad only in a short chemise, my limbs exposed, I could see myself—or rather, what was left of myself, for I had half melted away. Was this some horrific aftermath of the Doppelschläferin spell? Would I soon disappear altogether?

"You've slimmed up, that you have, said Hildebert.

Of course! My two months in Drachensbett, with its backbreaking labor and monotonous diet, and perhaps as well the Doppelschlüferin's long isolation, had serendipitously produced the very silhouette about which Queen Sophia so incessantly hounded me. Not that I was slender, certainly, but where once I had bulged out, now I dipped ever so slightly inward.

Unsure as to how to react to this singular turn of events, I settled on the one truth I could establish: "I'd best begin washing.

Alone in my tub, I soon had privacy to marvel. The merger of my two halves had yet again produced a peculiar amalgam. Where yesterday a raw red welt the size of my thumb had blighted my forearm, I now had only the palest of scars, though the arm was as stiff and sore as ever. (Indeed, it would be many months before my hand came near its
previous mobility, and ever after my arm would ache at the approach of foul weather.) My hair, though it soon scrubbed clean, appeared as short as the day Hildebert had cropped it. While I now forgave her this crime, for it must have been trying indeed to dress such an uncooperative debutante, I mourned the loss of my long locks. Much as I disliked wigs, I might be forced to use them, for no amount of tonsorial genius could coax these strands into a pompadour—

A tremendous commotion broke my reverie as Beatrix and several other ladies in waiting burst into my bath.

"Oh, look at her!" said one of the ladies, peering into the tub. " 'Tis a
miracle!
"

"Princess, you must stand and display yourself, pleaded Beatrix.

"I shall do no such thing! May I please have some privacy?

Beatrix tossed me a dressing gown. "Don this—we will look away. Come, come, we must observe you!

By the time I had robed, the small room was packed with ladies of the court marveling at my slim form, as they so described it flatteringly—and inaccurately, for I was by no possible stretch of the imagination slim. I was simply no longer rotund. Pleased as I had been to make this discovery about myself, I disdained the adulation of this flock of sharp-eyed
gossips, for their tongues had stabbed me far too often in the past. I kept my silence as a modest young woman should. Nevertheless, inwardly I vowed never to debase myself with such superficiality. Without doubt a miracle had occurred, but my girth represented the least of it.

***

The opportunity to display my new dedication to calling and country—for this be the miracle to which I allude—came about much earlier than I anticipated. In twos and threes, the twittering ladies drifted away, leaving Beatrix and Hildebert to review my wardrobe with unprecedented enthusiasm, given that I could now fit into the garments that had been prepared me.

"We shall dress you for dance class—if you feel quite up to it after your, ah, rest..." Lady Beatrix began. "If the queen has completed her matters of state by dinner, perhaps we can—

At once a thought struck me—a true thought, and not simply an attempt at truancy. "What matters of state?"

"Oh, 'tis nothing to worry you."

"I am not so certain. Should not the nation's affairs concern the heir to the throne?

Lady Beatrix twitched in surprise. "Well, I would not know—

"I would like to believe that my best possible education this day would be to participate in whatever conference occupies the queen.

Too stunned to refute this logic, Lady Beatrix herself dressed and led me to the queen's salon, and nodded dumbly when I insisted the guard admit me.

The ex-salon doors opened to reveal Sophia and Lord Frederick in intense discussion with a stranger. At once my determination dissipated, and it was all I could manage not to retreat, knowing the verbal lashing to come.

And come it did. "What be the meaning of this impertinence?" demanded Sophia, fixing me with a glare.

"Forgive my presumption, Your Majesty ... for too long I have avoided the affairs of Montagne. I must ... I must commence to learn what I might. I gulped.

In the silence, I counted six ticks of the tall wall clock. Six seconds may not sound long, but at that moment they felt quite like eternity.

Lord Frederick spoke. "Your Majesty, it is a commendable goal. We can avoid discussing certain matters in her presence.

"Yes ... mused the queen. She nodded to an empty chair. "We admire your interest, Benevolence. This gentleman, so soon returned from Drachensbett, speaks to us of conditions in that nation.