Disclaimer: I don't own any of Gail Carson Levine's characters or ideas
(which includes descriptions of people, town names, etc). I do wish I did
though, because she's a genius. Please Please Please read and review!
Chapter One
I sat on the rim of the town's fountain, watching the day begin in Jenn. I had my long blonde hair tucked into a hat, my chest concealed by a loose white shirt and green vest, and brown pants covering my legs. I hated going out in lavished dresses. I was always ogled and stared at, like some prized object. But that's the life of a sixteen year old girl- a prized object, given in marriage to the highest bidder. I loathed the whole system, and snuck out of the house frequently dressed as a boy. When I looked like a ratty, poor boy, people looked past me. I liked that.
The fountain I was sitting on was in Jenn's center square, surrounded by shops. In the mornings, it was a thriving outdoor market. The town was waking. Bakers emerged from their kitchens, the warm aroma of bread hit my face. The tailor opened his doors, revealing fine cloth and clothing. The butchers, farmers, tinkers, and merchants started set up their shops and peddling their goods to the day's first customers.
This scene would have been as pleasant as a painting, if it had not have been for the hideous orange uniforms dotting the marketplace. The knights were the king's. King Ludwig and Queen Drusilla, our lavish, tyrannical monarchs, had their knights searching all over Kyrria for their son Jerrold. He was seventeen, heir to the throne, and had gone missing when traveling to Ayorthia for a year. When his entire party reached the Ayorthian castle, his carriage was empty. So, now the disgusting knights searched the kingdom for this ridiculous prince. The knights were all brawn, no brains, and the dirty street urchins harassed them constantly. Of course, the knights couldn't think of anything to do to stop them.
"Boy!" a man said. I suddenly realized a man, probably in his late twenties, standing in front of me. He was dressed in a dark cloak, even though it was late spring.
"Can you deliver a message to Sir Roan of Jenn for me?" he asked sternly. My jaw dropped in shock, but not because he thought I was a messenger boy.
I quickly recovered. "Of course sir," I said as gruffly as I could. He nodded at me, as if to signify his trust in me, and shoved an envelope and a silver coin in my hand. As he turned and walked away, I noted the red lining of his coat.
I turned on my heel and ran as fast as I could out of the square. Roan. Roan. I thought he was dead! The man I was supposed to deliver this note to was no stranger to me. He was my eldest brother, and I hadn't seen him in five years. He left home when he was sixteen, because he hated my parents. They'd imposed such tyranny on him, and he tired of it. My parents didn't care. I was their new problem.
Suddenly, I slammed into something and fell backwards.
"Hey, why don't you watch where you're going!" someone yelled. I sat up, my head spinning. A boy stood over me, brushing off his already dirty clothing. He had a mess of sandy brown hair that fell into his angry gray eyes.
He started to yell as I stood up. "You can't just go banging into-" he stopped abruptly. His eyes flicked over me, and then widened. My hand flew to my head. My blonde wavy hair had fallen all over my shoulders; my hat lay idly on the ground.
"You're...You're a- a girl," he said in disbelief. His eyes were still wide with shock as I snatched my hat off the ground.
"So what? Why do you care, boy?" I said rudely.
He grinned. "What's your name?" he asked.
I frowned. "I have to go," I replied. The message and coin clutched in my hand, my hair tucked firmly into my hat, I moved to leave. The boy blocked my way.
"It's no wonder you were running," he said smartly. "It's not safe for you to be traipsing about Jenn, what with the Orangemen about and stuff."
I stepped back in disgust. "You pig! How dare you be so patronizing! I'm no damsel in distress, and it's none of your business how I spend my time," I retorted.
He shrugged. I moved to leave again. He blocked my away- again. I heaved a sigh. Why is he making this so difficult? I stepped quickly to the left, and he followed, and I moved quickly to the right, spinning around to face him gleefully.
"Ha," I said triumphantly. For some reason, he looked happier than I did.
"You're a noble!" he cried. "I'm in the presence of a lady of breeding!" He bowed, half serious, half mockingly.
"What makes you think that?" I snapped.
He grinned again. How irritating! "You're light on your feet. Dancing lessons, I presume," he said. "Who's the message for?" he asked, peering at my paper. In the distance, the town clock ran eight times. I need to get home!
"Sir Roan of Jenn," I said.
He nodded. "Oh, of course. I know Roan," he said simply.
I bit my lip nervously. This was a last resort. "Could you deliver this letter to him?" I held out the letter and coin.
He stepped back coyly. "Me? Little old me? But why? I'm so patronizing!" he said, obviously teasing me. Anger boiled up through me, but I pushed it down. I needed the favor.
Exasperated, I said, "If I tell you my name would you deliver it for me?" He looked shocked. It pleased me immensely.
"Um, well- yeah, I would," he said quickly.
I stuffed the letter into his hand. "I'm Daria," I said quickly.
He smiled. "Jerrold," he said. "Not the king's son," he said quickly. I shook his callused hand. As I turned on my heel, I could feel his eyes on me. What a queer boy.
~*~
I walked into my house, fully clothed in my plainest cotton dress. It was hideous; I'd changed in the barn.
"Where've you been?"
I whirled around to see my twenty year old brother, Cyrus, standing in the doorway of the dining hall. His brown hair was parted neatly on the side, to match his neatly pressed clothing. He looked angry.
"Just...out," I said vaguely, turning and walking towards the stairs. Cyrus walked after me, and grabbed my elbow.
"You've been disappearing a lot lately, amd owe us an explanation-"
"You're not my keeper Cyrus," I interrupted, trying to wretch my arm away from him.
He held my tighter. "Daria, I am the oldest brother, and I have ways to make you tell me where you've been," he said.
"I'm not scared of you Cyrus," I said fiercely. Then I spit in his eye.
Immediately, I felt his hand across my face, and the sting afterwards. I put my hand to my cheek, determined not to cry.
"Cyrus, just leave her alone," said Alexei, my other older brother. He was two years younger than Cyrus, and a year older than me.
"Stay out of this Alexei," Cyrus said, grabbing Father's switch. "You're no worse than Roan, Daria."
Alexei grabbed the other end of the switch, and tried to pull it from Cyrus's grasp.
"Why does it matter to you where she was?" Alexei asked.
Just then, Cyrus threw me to the floor. "Don't defend her!" he said cautiously. I tried to stand up, by he pushed me to the ground again.
"Just leave Daria alone," said Alexei. "She's not your responsibility."
Cyrus flew at him. They landed on the floor, twisting and shouting, punching, kicking, and biting each other. The small manor rattled as I stood up slowly, slightly amused at watching my foolish brothers brawl.
Finally, Mama and Papa walked in to see what all the noise was about, and saw the two of them beating the pulp out of each other.
"Alexei! Cyrus!" Mother cried. "Boys, pray tell what you were doing!"
"It's Daria," Cyrus spat. "She's always gone. I tried to question her, but Alexei started defending her and pushing me around."
Both Alexei and I moved to speak, but Papa put his hand up. He snatched the switch from Cyrus, and glared at me.
"You two should be ashamed of yourselves. Violence is no way to solve a problem," Mama said. I almost laughed out loud, because the latter statement was so hypocritical.
"Alexei," Papa said sternly, "you're confined to your room for the next two weeks. You may leave only to come down for dinner." Alexei hung his head. He won't be defending me anymore.
"You follow us Daria," Papa said, and he and Mama walked into the kitchen. They cornered me against a table. I could tell they were angry, although I really hadn't done anything wrong.
"Daria," my mother huffed. "You must start acting like a young lady! You frolic about; we never know where you are. Your stitching is atrocious, you're not charismatic or flirty, you can't dance gracefully or sing well, and your manners are worse than an ogres! Honestly Daria, if you could just be a bit more like Helena..." she trailed off, her lips pursed together. Yes, my perfect sister Helena. She's a year younger than Cyrus, and my parent's dream daughter. She married young, to a rich, noble merchant.
I looked up at my father, who was looming over me with the switch in his hands.
"You need to learn to behave, Daria Alexandria, or you're going to see some consequences," Papa said.
I looked at him, trying to make my blue eyes pierce and kill him. "You don't frighten me, Papa. You don't frighten me at all," I spat.
My father's eyes flashed with anger, and the switch began to twitch in his hand.
~*~
I lay on my bed on my stomach, my dress unbuttoned in the back. There were slashes and scratches all over my back, cutting across my spine and shoulders. It was the most painful beating I'd ever received, but I didn't give Papa the satisfaction of hearing me cry out in pain, or even cry.
There was a soft knock at my door.
Buttoning up my dress, I called, "Come in," meekly.
Alexei walked into my room. His face looked like a mix between anger and sympathy, but he didn't speak on either emotion.
"Daria, you owe me an explanation," he said simply.
I was shocked. "Why?" I said.
He shrugged. "I defended you. I was punished because I defended you. Now you owe me," he replied.
"No," I said defiantly.
Alexei frowned. "Daria, you can't just wander around Jenn! Tell me where you were!" he said loudly.
I shook my head. "I answer to no one Alexei," I said firmly.
He stomped towards me and grabbed my wrists. "You vulgar girl!" he yelled, shaking me. "I should have just let him beat you! If I did, you may learned some manners!"
I wretched myself from his grasp. "You should have! Then you wouldn't be under house arrest for the next two weeks!" I said bravely.
"You'll answer to everyone," Alexei said.
"Get out!" I screamed.
"Fine!" he yelled.
"Fine!" I yelled back. "Thank you for your help!" I said sarcastically.
He stormed from my room and slammed the door. Angrily, I hobbled over to my bed and painfully bent over, pulling out my boy's clothing. I got dressed slowly and agonizingly. I knew I couldn't walk out the front door, so I threw open my window and looked down. There were rocks jutting out from our stone house that I could climb down on. It didn't look to difficult.
As I tenderly lowered myself out of the window, I scrambled to find places to put my feet. I found two stones to steady myself on, and breathed somewhat easier because I was stable.
I started moving down slowly and cautiously, and I thought I was doing pretty well. The slashes on my back were blinding me, they hurt so much. I felt a rock crumble beneath my feet. I groped the wall, searching for something to hold on to. Not finding anything to keep me stable, I tumbled backwards, falling to the ground. I landed in something gruff and warm. Before I could look around to see what caught my fall, I blacked out.
Cliffhanger! PLEASE review—anything you want to write, I'll read it. Questions, comments, thoughts, ideas, ridiculous praise, hateful criticism, trials, tribulations, or things that could keep you awake at night. ANYTHING. I love reading reviews!
Chapter One
I sat on the rim of the town's fountain, watching the day begin in Jenn. I had my long blonde hair tucked into a hat, my chest concealed by a loose white shirt and green vest, and brown pants covering my legs. I hated going out in lavished dresses. I was always ogled and stared at, like some prized object. But that's the life of a sixteen year old girl- a prized object, given in marriage to the highest bidder. I loathed the whole system, and snuck out of the house frequently dressed as a boy. When I looked like a ratty, poor boy, people looked past me. I liked that.
The fountain I was sitting on was in Jenn's center square, surrounded by shops. In the mornings, it was a thriving outdoor market. The town was waking. Bakers emerged from their kitchens, the warm aroma of bread hit my face. The tailor opened his doors, revealing fine cloth and clothing. The butchers, farmers, tinkers, and merchants started set up their shops and peddling their goods to the day's first customers.
This scene would have been as pleasant as a painting, if it had not have been for the hideous orange uniforms dotting the marketplace. The knights were the king's. King Ludwig and Queen Drusilla, our lavish, tyrannical monarchs, had their knights searching all over Kyrria for their son Jerrold. He was seventeen, heir to the throne, and had gone missing when traveling to Ayorthia for a year. When his entire party reached the Ayorthian castle, his carriage was empty. So, now the disgusting knights searched the kingdom for this ridiculous prince. The knights were all brawn, no brains, and the dirty street urchins harassed them constantly. Of course, the knights couldn't think of anything to do to stop them.
"Boy!" a man said. I suddenly realized a man, probably in his late twenties, standing in front of me. He was dressed in a dark cloak, even though it was late spring.
"Can you deliver a message to Sir Roan of Jenn for me?" he asked sternly. My jaw dropped in shock, but not because he thought I was a messenger boy.
I quickly recovered. "Of course sir," I said as gruffly as I could. He nodded at me, as if to signify his trust in me, and shoved an envelope and a silver coin in my hand. As he turned and walked away, I noted the red lining of his coat.
I turned on my heel and ran as fast as I could out of the square. Roan. Roan. I thought he was dead! The man I was supposed to deliver this note to was no stranger to me. He was my eldest brother, and I hadn't seen him in five years. He left home when he was sixteen, because he hated my parents. They'd imposed such tyranny on him, and he tired of it. My parents didn't care. I was their new problem.
Suddenly, I slammed into something and fell backwards.
"Hey, why don't you watch where you're going!" someone yelled. I sat up, my head spinning. A boy stood over me, brushing off his already dirty clothing. He had a mess of sandy brown hair that fell into his angry gray eyes.
He started to yell as I stood up. "You can't just go banging into-" he stopped abruptly. His eyes flicked over me, and then widened. My hand flew to my head. My blonde wavy hair had fallen all over my shoulders; my hat lay idly on the ground.
"You're...You're a- a girl," he said in disbelief. His eyes were still wide with shock as I snatched my hat off the ground.
"So what? Why do you care, boy?" I said rudely.
He grinned. "What's your name?" he asked.
I frowned. "I have to go," I replied. The message and coin clutched in my hand, my hair tucked firmly into my hat, I moved to leave. The boy blocked my way.
"It's no wonder you were running," he said smartly. "It's not safe for you to be traipsing about Jenn, what with the Orangemen about and stuff."
I stepped back in disgust. "You pig! How dare you be so patronizing! I'm no damsel in distress, and it's none of your business how I spend my time," I retorted.
He shrugged. I moved to leave again. He blocked my away- again. I heaved a sigh. Why is he making this so difficult? I stepped quickly to the left, and he followed, and I moved quickly to the right, spinning around to face him gleefully.
"Ha," I said triumphantly. For some reason, he looked happier than I did.
"You're a noble!" he cried. "I'm in the presence of a lady of breeding!" He bowed, half serious, half mockingly.
"What makes you think that?" I snapped.
He grinned again. How irritating! "You're light on your feet. Dancing lessons, I presume," he said. "Who's the message for?" he asked, peering at my paper. In the distance, the town clock ran eight times. I need to get home!
"Sir Roan of Jenn," I said.
He nodded. "Oh, of course. I know Roan," he said simply.
I bit my lip nervously. This was a last resort. "Could you deliver this letter to him?" I held out the letter and coin.
He stepped back coyly. "Me? Little old me? But why? I'm so patronizing!" he said, obviously teasing me. Anger boiled up through me, but I pushed it down. I needed the favor.
Exasperated, I said, "If I tell you my name would you deliver it for me?" He looked shocked. It pleased me immensely.
"Um, well- yeah, I would," he said quickly.
I stuffed the letter into his hand. "I'm Daria," I said quickly.
He smiled. "Jerrold," he said. "Not the king's son," he said quickly. I shook his callused hand. As I turned on my heel, I could feel his eyes on me. What a queer boy.
~*~
I walked into my house, fully clothed in my plainest cotton dress. It was hideous; I'd changed in the barn.
"Where've you been?"
I whirled around to see my twenty year old brother, Cyrus, standing in the doorway of the dining hall. His brown hair was parted neatly on the side, to match his neatly pressed clothing. He looked angry.
"Just...out," I said vaguely, turning and walking towards the stairs. Cyrus walked after me, and grabbed my elbow.
"You've been disappearing a lot lately, amd owe us an explanation-"
"You're not my keeper Cyrus," I interrupted, trying to wretch my arm away from him.
He held my tighter. "Daria, I am the oldest brother, and I have ways to make you tell me where you've been," he said.
"I'm not scared of you Cyrus," I said fiercely. Then I spit in his eye.
Immediately, I felt his hand across my face, and the sting afterwards. I put my hand to my cheek, determined not to cry.
"Cyrus, just leave her alone," said Alexei, my other older brother. He was two years younger than Cyrus, and a year older than me.
"Stay out of this Alexei," Cyrus said, grabbing Father's switch. "You're no worse than Roan, Daria."
Alexei grabbed the other end of the switch, and tried to pull it from Cyrus's grasp.
"Why does it matter to you where she was?" Alexei asked.
Just then, Cyrus threw me to the floor. "Don't defend her!" he said cautiously. I tried to stand up, by he pushed me to the ground again.
"Just leave Daria alone," said Alexei. "She's not your responsibility."
Cyrus flew at him. They landed on the floor, twisting and shouting, punching, kicking, and biting each other. The small manor rattled as I stood up slowly, slightly amused at watching my foolish brothers brawl.
Finally, Mama and Papa walked in to see what all the noise was about, and saw the two of them beating the pulp out of each other.
"Alexei! Cyrus!" Mother cried. "Boys, pray tell what you were doing!"
"It's Daria," Cyrus spat. "She's always gone. I tried to question her, but Alexei started defending her and pushing me around."
Both Alexei and I moved to speak, but Papa put his hand up. He snatched the switch from Cyrus, and glared at me.
"You two should be ashamed of yourselves. Violence is no way to solve a problem," Mama said. I almost laughed out loud, because the latter statement was so hypocritical.
"Alexei," Papa said sternly, "you're confined to your room for the next two weeks. You may leave only to come down for dinner." Alexei hung his head. He won't be defending me anymore.
"You follow us Daria," Papa said, and he and Mama walked into the kitchen. They cornered me against a table. I could tell they were angry, although I really hadn't done anything wrong.
"Daria," my mother huffed. "You must start acting like a young lady! You frolic about; we never know where you are. Your stitching is atrocious, you're not charismatic or flirty, you can't dance gracefully or sing well, and your manners are worse than an ogres! Honestly Daria, if you could just be a bit more like Helena..." she trailed off, her lips pursed together. Yes, my perfect sister Helena. She's a year younger than Cyrus, and my parent's dream daughter. She married young, to a rich, noble merchant.
I looked up at my father, who was looming over me with the switch in his hands.
"You need to learn to behave, Daria Alexandria, or you're going to see some consequences," Papa said.
I looked at him, trying to make my blue eyes pierce and kill him. "You don't frighten me, Papa. You don't frighten me at all," I spat.
My father's eyes flashed with anger, and the switch began to twitch in his hand.
~*~
I lay on my bed on my stomach, my dress unbuttoned in the back. There were slashes and scratches all over my back, cutting across my spine and shoulders. It was the most painful beating I'd ever received, but I didn't give Papa the satisfaction of hearing me cry out in pain, or even cry.
There was a soft knock at my door.
Buttoning up my dress, I called, "Come in," meekly.
Alexei walked into my room. His face looked like a mix between anger and sympathy, but he didn't speak on either emotion.
"Daria, you owe me an explanation," he said simply.
I was shocked. "Why?" I said.
He shrugged. "I defended you. I was punished because I defended you. Now you owe me," he replied.
"No," I said defiantly.
Alexei frowned. "Daria, you can't just wander around Jenn! Tell me where you were!" he said loudly.
I shook my head. "I answer to no one Alexei," I said firmly.
He stomped towards me and grabbed my wrists. "You vulgar girl!" he yelled, shaking me. "I should have just let him beat you! If I did, you may learned some manners!"
I wretched myself from his grasp. "You should have! Then you wouldn't be under house arrest for the next two weeks!" I said bravely.
"You'll answer to everyone," Alexei said.
"Get out!" I screamed.
"Fine!" he yelled.
"Fine!" I yelled back. "Thank you for your help!" I said sarcastically.
He stormed from my room and slammed the door. Angrily, I hobbled over to my bed and painfully bent over, pulling out my boy's clothing. I got dressed slowly and agonizingly. I knew I couldn't walk out the front door, so I threw open my window and looked down. There were rocks jutting out from our stone house that I could climb down on. It didn't look to difficult.
As I tenderly lowered myself out of the window, I scrambled to find places to put my feet. I found two stones to steady myself on, and breathed somewhat easier because I was stable.
I started moving down slowly and cautiously, and I thought I was doing pretty well. The slashes on my back were blinding me, they hurt so much. I felt a rock crumble beneath my feet. I groped the wall, searching for something to hold on to. Not finding anything to keep me stable, I tumbled backwards, falling to the ground. I landed in something gruff and warm. Before I could look around to see what caught my fall, I blacked out.
Cliffhanger! PLEASE review—anything you want to write, I'll read it. Questions, comments, thoughts, ideas, ridiculous praise, hateful criticism, trials, tribulations, or things that could keep you awake at night. ANYTHING. I love reading reviews!