Sipil plucks one final hair from the side of my face.
"There" She sighs of relief, tossing the tweezers over her shoulder.
"Now you look like a princess."
I nod blankly. Princess. I hate the word. Every girl dreams of being a princess; having personal servants and dressing in diamond plated gowns. I was 'fortunate' enough to have all these things times twenty. Why am I not happy?
My mother pops her head in every few minutes, asking ridiculous questions and gasping at my transformation.
"How's my little bird doing?" Her voice chimes in my ears.
Sipil smiles, stretching the purple paint on her lips. "Plucked raw!" She reaches in her oversized bag and pulls out a dish with silver paint and a thin brush. "now onto the beautifying!" She says in her sing-song tone.
"Excellent! Sipil you never disappoint me." My mother kisses the back of my head and floats into the hall.
Trove scoffs from across the room and stands up, pointing to me. "Aer she's not gonna make you pretty unless you smile" He teases.
"I looked fine before…" I trail off, fumbling my fingers like and idiot.
"Oh now now." Sipil speaks in a motherly tone and sits down next to me. I watch her long white nails trace the beading on the gold couch. "you're a princess. You can't expect it to be okay for you to…run around all day rolling in the mud. You have to be girly once in a while." I mindlessly rub at the smooth skin where my thick eyebrows rested not more than 10 minutes ago. Trove slides his way inbetween the two of us and embraces me in a hug, rocking me slightly.
I manage to wriggle my way out of his grip, and plop on to the floor. He looks at me for a second, then laughs. He shakes his head so that his shaggy brown hair falls over his eyes, but he doesn't let it sit for too long before it's pushed back behind his ears.
"Just go… we'll cover for you."
I smile and leap up to hug him tightly.
"Thank you, Thank you." I whisper in his ear over and over.
He playfully pushes me off of him. "Go before I change my mind." He says.
I scramble off towards my dresser, and pull out a large black woolen blouse and olive green slacks. I carefully strip out of my oversized gold and diamond ball-gown, not minding if Trove see's me naked, and change.
Before he has a chance to say goodbye I'm climbing out the window, my silver worker's boots hanging around my neck.
When I was younger, Trove taught me how to sneak out of the castle and into the town without getting caught. He used to come with me. He'd buy us fruit, or bread, and we'd sit on the fountain gossiping and watching the passer-bys. But after my 15th birthday it all stopped.
Trove is 3 years older than me. When I was seven, he was brought in with a new shipment of servants. Seeing our instant connection, my parent's assigned him to the west side of the castle, so he'd be responsible for taking care of me. When my father would go to war, or I'd have an argument with my mother, he'd come into my room, and hold me until I cried myself to sleep. And whenever my parents threw extravagant galas, he'd sneak me up wine, and we'd watch the television coverage of the party.
My 15th birthday, I was forced to dance with princes from all different planets and galaxies. Some human, some human looking, and some intolerable aliens. My parents wanted me to pick a husband. But all I wanted to do was dance with Trove, who was hiding in the corner, passing out food. Secretly, all I wanted to do was marry him. I wanted to defy the royal order and spend the rest of my life with my servant. When I kissed him infront of all the cameras and reporters it didn't end well. I remember his face exactly. He licked my exchanged wine off of his lips and smiled. His now warm hands rubbed the side of my face.
"you shouldn't have done that." He whispered softly.
Completely drunk, I was oblivious to the fact that Trove was being dragged out of the room by guards. He was beaten severely, to the point where he was unrecognizable for a month or two afterwards. I payed to have his face reconstructed, and all that remains is a scar across his cheek. He's still beautiful though.
I land on the floor like a cat, perfectly on all fours. After checking to makes sure no one saw me, I sit on the floor and lace up my boots, tucking my slacks inside of them.
As I walk, I play with my hair. Other's in my family dye their hair. Sometimes the crazy ones, like my mother, take I to extremes and dye their skins, and irises. I don't touch my body at all. I especially detest my monthly visits with Sipil, where she tweezes every hair off my body and paints me with metallic dyes. I only do it to spare my mother the heart-break of knowing her daughter is a tom-boy. One December she painted a giant snowflake on the side of my face. I hated it, considering the fact it doesn't snow on Calgen.
My mother has had numerous "improvements". She's had everything from breast lifts, to small rhinestones along her cheek bones. My dad's shown me picture of her before she became so obsessed with appearance. She looked just like me. Same bushy brown eyebrows and blue eyes, even the bleach blonde hair. Now she looks like she belongs in a circus. She barley even looks human to me.
I climb up a large tree and swing off of its branches over the castle all. I learned from past experiences to not brave the crowd. Eventually you'll get spotted and swamped with people asking for photos.
In town I buy a piece of bread and a cup of broth and climb up on the fountain like I used to do with Trove. The people here are so different than those I see every day. They're dressed in what my mother would call rags, but they don't seem to mind. With my legs folded, I watch the kids playing in the dirt, and their mothers peeling vegetables behind them.
I throw the remainder of the bread in my mouth and slurp up the broth, scolding my tongue and my throat.
The large silver tower in the middle of the town sends out a large chiming noise in the air. My father's face is projected on to the graying sky, the audience replies with squeals and cheers.
"He's so handsome." A woman sighs clutching her heart.
"Attention!" His voice bellows through the speakers strung throught the town.
I hide behind the fountain, peering between the cracks. I know he cant see me, but It's a weird instinct. The crowd settles down, and he takes a deep breath. In the background is the sound of a cry of pain, and metal clinking together.
"Citizens. " He says firmly. His image crackles and fuzzes a little.
"you are all invited to witness the execution of a royal servant." He continues, "This particular servant has defied royal order numerous times, and has been spared due to my family's kind heart."
The camera pans off of my father's face to a man on his knees. There's blood trickling from his face, that's shielded by stringy brown hair, that's matted with blood. He tries to move but a guard yanks his shackles and he crumples to the floor again. At first I don't recognize him. Maybe it's because I don't want to. Maybe my mind is just playing a sick trick on me. But I'm forced to face the painful truth when I notice a familiar pink scar.