When the shock and embarrassment finally faded, Ollie collapsed onto the floor beside her bed. The cold tile floor grounded her through her raging emotions. She couldn’t believe that Motley dared to make fun of her. She was the princess, after all. While Motley was the only one in the castle allowed to make fun of the king, surely there were different rules surrounding whether he could say such disgusting things about her.
Ollie was livid. She had never been so angry in her life. While throwing the wine goblet across the room was unladylike, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She only wished she had hit Motley in the face.
That night, she hardly slept. All she could think about was the jester dressed as her, singing about how much of a brat she was. She could still hear the table of people laughing at him–laughing at her.
When dawn finally came, Ollie didn’t want to see anyone ever again. She wanted to hide out in her room–or maybe a dark cave–for the rest of her existence. Despite her spiraling thoughts, life went on. She couldn’t just hide away under the lush duvet of her bed. Tam was expecting her and she wasn’t a woman to be left waiting.
Despite not wanting to move, Ollie convinced herself that a full day of training would be exactly what she needed. Additionally, Tam was a woman of silence and intense stares. She cared little for gossip and likely knew nothing about what happened the night before.
Typically, Ollie was a bit bothered by her trainer’s silence. How could anyone speak so little? However, after Motley’s performance, Ollie didn’t want to talk to anyone. Luckily, Tam didn’t either.
Ollie met Tam where they always met: in the courtyard behind the castle. It was a flat patch of stone, marked with pillars along its edge. In the summertime, festivals and celebrations were held there. People danced on the stone ground, barefoot and drunk. Most of the time, however, it was empty.
Tam had taken it over to train those who were enrolled in her classes. According to her, it was better to train outside. It was pleasant in the summer–if not a bit sweaty. The winter was another story.
The moment Ollie walked outside, she realized the Dark Season had nearly arrived. The skies were gray above the courtyard, and the shrubs and gardens were beginning to look rather pitiful. She tried not to shiver as she approached Tam.
“You’re early.”
“I’m always early,” Ollie reminded her.
Tam made a noise of agreement, and then they began practice.
Traditional Meiren fighting was usually a combination of sword skills and hand-to-hand combat. As a child, Ollie had preferred hand-to-hand skills. After flowering into womanhood, she took to swordplay more easily. In recent months, she had preferred training with a sword, but not today.
Ollie felt her legs get kicked out from under her. She landed hard on her side. Tam pointed the end of her sparring staff at Ollie ’s face–a killing blow.
“You are distracted.” The trainer looked unimpressed.
“I’m fine,” Ollie stood up. “Let’s keep going.”
“No,” Tam’s dark eyes met with Ollie ’s. “You are too angry to fight.”
Ollie scoffed. “I’m fine. And even if I was angry, wouldn’t that just help me more? Let’s keep going.”
“Do not confuse anger with power,” Tam said.
Ollie grabbed her sparring staff off the ground. She wasn’t in the mood to hear hermetic sayings from her teacher.
“Whatever is bothering you,” Tam said. “Save it for later…when you are truly out of energy. You can use it then. For now, you are too impulsive.”
Ollie took a deep breath and attempted to ‘save’ her anger. She focused only on the feel of the sparring pole in her hands and the movement of Tam’s steps.
While Ollie would have loved more than anything to push her feelings into her fighting, Tam was right. The less she thought about Motley, the better her sparring was. The less she felt anger and bitterness, the more focused she was.
In less than an hour into her training, Ollie had almost forgotten about her embarrassing night. Instead, she was entirely focused on Tam and how relentless her strikes were. The two sparred for hours with very little communication at all. The only sounds Ollie heard were the sound of their staffs striking and the scuff of her boots on the stone.
When training was over, Ollie felt better than she had that morning. Her head felt clearer, and her anger had mostly subsided. The skies had grown darker, threatening the castle grounds with cold rain. However, they held off longer than Ollie had assumed. Thanking Tam again for the lesson, she shrugged on a cloak over her shoulders and walked back inside.
It was early evening, a time when the castle was mostly empty. People were in their private quarters, far from where Ollie would be. She planned it that way. While she wasn’t as angry, she was in no mood to see anyone who had attended last night’s dinner.
Ollie had made it to the hallway leading to her quarters before seeing someone walking in her direction. At the sight of Motley, she took a deep breath.
Just don’t say anything to him, she thought to herself. If I don’t say anything, he won’t bother me.
Despite her blood beginning to boil, Ollie kept her eyes focused on the end of the hall and not the man walking towards her. She only hoped that he’d do the right thing and let her be.
She was foolish for thinking that.
“Princess,” he drawled, stepping into her path. “I wondered if I would see you today. I’m glad to see you’re not hiding away in your quarters.”
She clenched her jaw. “I have much more important things to attend than your ego.” Ollie stepped around the jester and towards the end of the hall. She was so close to her quarters. She only had to make it a few more steps before she was safe and away from his stupid, grinning face.
“My performance went over well, don’t you think?” Motley was not giving up easily. He walked after her, the bells on his hat jingling.
“I think it was insulting and disgraceful,” she said, keeping her voice calm.
“Hmm, tell me more,” she could tell he was smiling without even looking at him.
Ollie spun on her heel and faced Motley.
“You’re a bastard and a fool, and for some insufferable reason, my father keeps you around. But you should know,” she stepped closer to him. “Someday, I will be crowned Queen of Goldmoor, and you will lose whatever privileges my father has given you.”
If Motley was concerned by her threat, he didn’t show it. Instead, his smile only grew more wicked.
“Gods help us the day you become queen,” he remarked.
“The only one who will need the gods’ help is you,” she assured him before turning and walking into her quarters.
The door shut loudly behind her, and Ollie breathed out a sigh of relief.
Two days after Motley’s mockery of Ollie, the castle had all but forgotten the performance. There were more pressing matters to discuss, like the towering plume of smoke that could be seen in the northern skies.
After it was first spotted, Ollie had heard some people claiming to have seen red lightning and others claiming to have had dreams of terror. She, however, believed her father when he told the kingdom it was simply a wildfire. She liked scary Tathian stories as much as everyone, but there was no great and evil magic in the mountains. She knew that a wildfire was infinitely more likely than anything that had to do with magic and ancient stories.
Five days after the smoke arose, it was already beginning to dissipate in the skies. Ollie found herself sitting on the little balcony attached to her quarters, with a book sitting out in front of her. It was a history book that Lady Tawnley was forcing her to memorize. Ollie’s focus, however, was pulled away from the book with a knock at the door.
“Ollie?” It was Marin.
“On the balcony,” Ollie shouted to her friend.
Marin walked out and took a seat beside her at the table. She let out a long, dramatic sigh as she gazed out at the autumn skies. Harvest Season was nearly over, and Ollie knew from experience how much Marin hated the colder times.
“It looks like the smoke is clearing up,” Marin said after a moment of quiet.
The smoke was all anyone could talk about lately. Ollie was already growing tired of the conversation. Despite those feelings, she placed her book down on the table and closed it. Her focus shifted to her friend.
“My father’s right, you know. It’s just a wildfire, I don’t understand why everyone is so worried about it.”
Marin nodded. “I think people like to worry. It gives them something to talk about.”
“I guess it’s better if they speculate about Tathian magic than Motley’s…performance.”
Marin winced. “I heard all about it.”
“I’m sure you did,” Ollie clenched her jaw.
“I’m sorry,” her friend offered. Her dark eyes met with Ollie’s. “If it’s any consolation, he does that with everyone eventually. It was really only a matter of time before he chose you to mock.”
“I don’t care,” Ollie retorted. “He called me spoiled in front of the entire court.”
“It could have been worse.”
She scoffed. “How?”
Marin shrugged. Her eyes were glued to the northern skies. For a moment, neither of the women spoke a word.
“Ollie,” Marin said suddenly. “I’m worried.”
“About what?”
She was surprised to hear that her friend was worried. Marin was one of the most level-headed people she knew.
“I know that the king is right and it’s just a wildfire, but…” Her eyes met Ollie’s. “I had dreams.”
“What kind of dreams?”
“I was standing in the middle of a field,” Marin began. “There were the bodies of soldiers everywhere, and standing in front of me was the biggest monster I had ever seen. It was a wardrake with wings larger than a ballroom.”
Ollie crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You probably dreamed it up because everyone is acting like the Tathians are back. But they’re not…they’ve been gone for centuries now.”
“I never said I thought they were back,” Marin raised an eyebrow. “I just said I dreamed of a wardrake and…it’s weird, isn’t it?”
“I guess.”
“I’m sure it means nothing, but I just felt like I had to tell you. It’s hard to explain why.”
“Dreams can be strange,” Ollie agreed.
Maybe people in the Goldmoor kingdom put a lot of weight into their dreams. Some believed themselves to hold Bard-like magic when it came to the world of sleep. Ollie had never bought it. Most of the time, her dreams were too nonsensical to mean anything.
“You were in it, too,” Marin continued. “You were…holding a sword.”
Ollie shrugged. “How did I look?”
Marin laughed. “You looked incredible.”
“Maybe your dreams are prophetic, then.”
She rolled her eyes and stood up. “Let’s pick out what you’re going to wear to the ball tomorrow.”
Ollie had nearly forgotten about the ball during the week’s madness. She hoped that people had mostly forgotten about Motley’s performance by the time the celebration came around.
The day of the celebration, Ollie spent hours getting ready with Marin. It took the two women a long time to finally decide on the right dress and even longer to decide on the perfect accessories. Ollie loved getting ready for celebrations in the castle. As she and Marin worked to curl her hair, they talked about who would be attending and what kinds of food and drinks would be served.
“All I can say,” Marin said. “The kitchens smelled incredible this morning.”
“When don’t they?” Ollie laughed. “But do you think they’ll have that strawberry cake I like?”
“Maybe,” Marin said, curling a long section of hair. “But it’s the Harvest Feast. Strawberries aren’t really harvest food.”
Ollie frowned. “But they have to be harvested.”
Marin rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but harvest foods are things like apples, pecans, pumpkins…you know.”
“So, you don’t think the strawberry cake will be there?”
“Sorry, but no.”
“What about mulled wine?”
Marin smiled. “Yes, that’ll be there for sure.”
“I wish you could join us,” Ollie said after a moment. It was rare that the castle allowed anyone outside of the court to attend celebrations.
“I would do it for you,” she smiled. “But I can’t stand half the people on your father’s court.”
Ollie nodded. She couldn’t exactly argue with her friend about that. She looked at herself in the mirror. Despite typically picking out a pink dress, she had decided on deep plum instead. She refused to let herself look anything like the mockery Motley had portrayed.
The wine-colored dress fit tighter than her usual dresses. The fabric was soft and thick, a dress for cooler weather. Around the bodice, it was embroidered with autumnal patterns of leaves and vines, but the skirts were simple and plain, giving her the appearance of being taller than she was.
At Marin’s request, Ollie wore a golden necklace that sparkled with two dark rubies. Matching earrings hung from her ears. This time, her hair had been left down. Marin had curled it softly so it fell down her back like a waterfall of dark gold.
“You look lovely, like an autumn sorceress,” Marin said with a grin at her handiwork.
Ollie met her eyes in the mirror. “I really wish you could join me. I don’t want to be alone at this party.” She could imagine the faces of the other ladies of the court.
“You’ll be alright,” Marin reassured her.
The grand ballroom had been decorated in reds, browns, and golds to honor the harvest. Large bouquets of sunflowers, golden prairie grass, and dark red roses were scattered throughout the room. The chandeliers were decorated with vines painted gold and plumes of fabric the color of burnt sugar.
Ollie smiled as she was escorted to where her parents sat. The king and queen sat against the furthest wall, atop a temporary throne. King Ansel and Queen Wrenilyn looked just as perfect as always. The king wore a dark burgundy suit with accents of gold, while Queen Wrenilyn wore a dress made entirely from golden silk.
“You look beautiful, my child,” the king said quietly, once Ollie had claimed the seat to his left.
Ollie smiled at the compliment. “Thank you, father.”
“You should know,” he said. “Sir Motley crossed a line the other night that I asked him never to cross. He is aware that such acts will not be tolerated in the future.”
She tried to hide her shock and pleasure.
“Thank you,” she said simply.
Ollie wanted to know how exactly the king had punished him, but she remained quiet.
Looking around the room, she quickly spotted Motley. He was talking animatedly to a group of women. Despite her father’s promises, the jester didn’t look the least bit sorry for his actions. He seemed far too happy to make one of the young women blush deeply at something he said.
Across the room from the throne, trays of food were set up on a heavily decorated table. Music played, and some people danced, while others chatted and drank. People helped themselves to all manner of autumn-themed foods.
Marin had been right about the lack of strawberry cake, much to Ollie’s dismay. She found herself standing in front of the dessert table, wishing for anything berry-flavored. As she gazed at the beautiful display of food, someone approached her from behind. A cool hand was placed on her shoulder, moving her hair slightly.
“You look beautiful, child,” Queen Wrenilyn said as she ran her hand through Ollie ’s hair.
Ollie turned to face her mother. Wrenilyn’s pale hair was pulled up away from her face, and her eyes shimmered in the glow of candlelight. It was hard to tell at first, but as Ollie met her mother’s stare, she realized something was wrong. The queen’s features were schooled in the way they always were, but there was an unusual tension to the way she held herself.
“Lady Tawnley says that you’ve been more focused this week. I’m glad to hear it,” Wrenilyn spoke softly.
“I’ve been learning to…control myself better,” Ollie replied.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you, dear. Would you care to join me outside?”
Ollie nodded, picking up a glass of wine and following the queen outside into the chilly autumn night. She couldn’t help but fight a wave of nervousness. Her mother was upset about something, and Ollie feared that she was the source of the upset.
Outside the ballroom, the world was colder and quieter. Through the glass doors, the celebration carried on, but on the veranda, the night was still. Ollie tilted her head back to see the familiar, brilliant cosmos above her. Stars sparkled, whispering their old stories to each other as the castle celebrated the coming darkness.
In the distance, Ollie could see the outskirts of the nearest village, Maten. It seemed that the villagers of Maten were having their own harvest celebration. She could smell the woodsmoke and hear the distant cheers and laughs from a game being played.
“It’s called jump-the-spit,” Marin once explained. “The drunker people get, the funnier it is.”
A part of Ollie wished she could join in the villager celebration–mostly to be with Marin. She hated how separated she was from her friend. She had always hoped that when she became queen, she’d get rid of the dumb laws that kept the villagers so separated from the nobles.
“Oleander,” Wrenilyn reached out and gently touched one of Ollie ’s long locks.
Ollie turned to face her mother.
“Is everything alright?” She asked, noticing that the queen was barely able to keep up her mask of perfection.
“There are many things I’ve failed to tell you. Now, I’m afraid it’s a bit too late.”
Ollie frowned. “What are you-”
“We don’t have time to discuss it in full.” The sadness in her eyes faded and was quickly replaced by something more intense than sorrow. “For now, I need you to make me a promise.”
“Alright,” Ollie replied hesitantly.
“When the day comes, and I tell you to leave, you must promise me that you will obey.”
“Leave? The castle?”
“Leave the kingdom.”
Ollie shivered. “Why would I-”
“Just promise me,” Wrenilyn gripped Ollie ’s arms in a harsh embrace.
Slowly, she nodded. “Alright. I promise, but I need a little more details about-”
“Let’s return inside. We’ve spent too much time out here. We mustn’t draw attention. Go dance like the other women, and perhaps we will have a chance to discuss this later.”
At the queen’s request, Ollie returned to the ballroom. The music had picked up its tempo, and now most of the court danced together. Skirts of every color floated through the room, creating an intricate painting of color and movement.
Despite the cheery atmosphere of the celebration, Ollie’s excitement had faded. She couldn’t stop thinking about her mother’s strange request. Why would she ever need to leave the kingdom? What could the queen possibly mean?
Really enjoying these. I thought I was subscribed to you before, but I guess not. That is on me.
That did the job nicely thank you. I am enjoying my visits to this world of yours.
You may wish to amend a couple of whoopsies:
“Maybe,” Marin said, curling a long section of hair. “But it’s the Harvest Feast. Strawberries don’t really harvest food.” I will guess don't should be aren't.
Marin had been right about the lack of strawberry cake, much to Ollie ’s dismay. Remove space after Ollie.