When I was twelve my chest would begin to feel tight when I was inside for too long; or maybe this began before that, but I used to have a little more freedom, so I could send more time outside. But at twelve I began to take a more active role in everything, which gave me considerably less time to myself. In the beginning it scared me out of my wits, though I never told anyone; even now, I lay my plans carefully so that it will not become disruptive. I can deal with it better, now; I no longer make a fool of myself by running outside in the middle of dinners to catch a breath of fresh air.
I stumbled upon that solution quite by accident one night at a celebration in honor of the Queen's newly discovered pregnancy, her first since mine, twelve years before. The dishes had been cleared away and my father led her onto the dance floor. I remember thinking how radiant she looked that night, basking in the glow which I later learned envelopes every pregnant woman, at least in the beginning. I sighed, leaning forward, chin in hand, my elbow resting on my knee for a very unladylike pose. I shifted, trying to settle the tight bodice of my pink dress in a slightly more comfortable position, and failing miserably.
At first I didn't notice the hand on my shoulder, but it increased its pressure and I looked up, blushing. He was only the son of a servant, but that servant was our head of household, and he was practically a brother to me, who had none. The face of the man in my primitive dreams of the future vaguely resembled his; but as I say, they were primitive dreams.
"Ciena, may I have this dance?" he asked, for the most part solemnly. I nodded and stood up, hand in his; I knew that this was permitted, despite my father's advisors' disapproval, because before becoming a servant our head of household had been one of my father's best friends in the army, and when my father became king he had elected to stay in that fashion.
My mother winked at me as the two of us stepped onto the slowly filling dance floor. I blushed again and looked down at Jason's steady feet, slowly letting go of my awkwardness and allowing him to carry me away.
It's so easy to reminisce and forget the ending… but I digress.
The celebration dragged on for hours as well-meaning folk had their share, plus a bit, of wine – but don't judge me, I enjoyed every second of it, and I sincerely celebrated in my heart my mother's triumph after twelve long years of waiting. Jason, at seventeen, could have drunk the wine as well, had he chosen to; "But," he said laughing, "I have no wish to contribute to the mess I may have to clean up tomorrow morning." And that was that.
The stench of intoxication made me a little light-headed, and the dances seemed faster and fast, although I knew they were not. I spun around, laughing, and ended in Jason's arms; he squeezed my waist: his little sister. I stood there, catching my breath, one hand flat on my chest, waiting, but my breath wouldn't come. My chest was constricting; I panicked – it had only happened once or twice before, and always while I was alone. I stiffened and pressed my hand tighter against my chest, drawing a shuddery breath, but the feeling did not stop. Panic rather than pain caused my world to shrink until I was the only one in it, hearing only the roaring in my ears.
"Ciena. Ciena." He shook me; I shook my head. Pushing myself off of him, as though I did not have enough momentum to walk on my own, my feet and my instinct led me outside to fresh air. I paused on the balcony for a moment and then clattered down the stone stairs to the cool earth.
I ended up half-kneeling on a stone bench in the garden, my breath and my chest returned to normal, only half-remembering how I got there. After a moment there were footsteps behind me and Jason lay a hand on my back. I turned my head toward him and smiled weakly, more scared than anything else. "Sorry," I said quickly before he could say anything but my name. "I just needed some… fresh air…"
And that's when it occurred to me that each instance had been solved by going out into the garden…
When I pondered it later that night, in bed, I realized each instance had been preceded by long amounts of time spent indoors. In the future I observed myself very carefully, treating my body as an experimental specimen when I was alone: depriving myself of the outdoors; going outside at regular intervals; even spending a night outside to see if it would allow me extra time indoors. (It didn't.) However, at the time this was just a curiosity. The full implications did not reveal themselves until many years later.
They call me Jayciena of the Golden Hair wherever you go. I do not care much for that extra title, but it never was my decision, and I always thought they could go on thinking I'm beautiful if they want to, as the title seems to imply. I wasn't. I was tall and plain and hopelessly insecure.
Those who are closer to me knew this and said I could be much more beautiful if I would just smile. Which I did. Just not often.
I smiled when there were things to smile about.
I sat in the garden, waiting. The sky was gray and overcast, but the ground was dry; the short stone wall marking the garden's borders was less than the toss of a stone away. The wall did not keep me in; nor did it keep others out, but it marked a boundary: here is your land, and here is ours. It was comforting because it was not huge and overpowering, but small and comfortable, only waist-high and a foot thick. Sometimes I met Thomas there; other times I climbed the wall and went to meet him on the other side.
It is surprising, as I look back, that I did not drop off the face of the earth when my brother was born. My father's advisors were satisfied with a male to carry on the line. Although by that time the law had required that females could indeed inherit, it was looked down upon more than words can say, and those long years when I was the only child gave the advisors some sleepless nights – and they in turn berated my poor mother with their soft and veiled tones. She tried her best to please them, even though I knew without words that she would not have minded a whit if I had been named heir. After he was born, the only difference was that I felt more free when talking with Jason, and later Thomas – I did not go any further, but I could feel that they would have allowed me to go further, if I had wanted. It no longer mattered, because I was not longer in their plans.
I saw a figure in the distance on the other side of the wall, growing nearer, but I wanted to be alone. I slipped down from the rock on which I sat, gazing into the open fields, and settled down comfortably in the shadow of the wall, leaning back against it. I was tall, but not so tall that my hiding place ceased to work; Thomas, if it was him, knew that if he did not see me, he should not come. What else he thought he knew was not my concern.
Gary was inside, sick, or else he might have been out here with me. That childhood simplicity which he had firmly held on to could be, I had found, a distraction from general gloom that was most welcome. But he was not there, and I was left alone with my thoughts, such that they were.
I sighed and absently rubbed the material of my skirt between my fingers. I was not always so unhappy. My moods change, and today I was alone, and my reflections are not always joyous. I smiled quite a bit, when I was younger, and I smiled after the war, too. But that was because I had to, because suddenly they cared about how I appeared again, and it took a long time to learn how to smile with meaning.
It is a strange place, where I have grown up. Our country is small and tucked away, and there is rarely trouble. In fact, one would think that such a nation would be quickly conquered by a neighbor, and it is rather strange that we haven't. However, my family is a stubborn one, and we never let go of what we claim is ours, no matter what it is. Then again, there are stories of old battles, in which our enemies were miraculously defeated by an alliance of us humans and the ancient Fair Folk. Surprisingly enough, these stories have worked to our defense for years, even though there has been no sign of the Fair Folk in living memory; and whenever a commander becomes a little too inquisitive, we manage to stave him off.
The population of our little country is decent enough for its size, but the people are very spread out and fiercely independent. Perhaps because of this, the castle I grew up in contained a bare minimum of people: perhaps thirty servants, forty including their children, a skeletal guard – a full barracks was barely a mile away, in case of need – the families of five or ten of my father's advisors, and us. The castle was not heavily fortified, either, and it would fall within days of a siege – but that would require an army getting this far without our knowledge, and those few days would allow our escape by various pre-planned routes, anyway. Because of the nature of our country, my father's spy system was highly advanced. And despite the independence of our people, they were also loyal, and would unite to fight hard until death for their freedom.
It is rather surprising that Mother and Father decided to live here, instead of at the castle Berdow down the road a bit. But we have never been threatened, not any more than any other human being, and I enjoy our castle Harpryre much more. Perhaps it is the freedom, for I know that my childhood was unrestricted in a way that no other child, peasant or princess, has available. In our small court, it was permitted that I play with the children of servants, at least when I was a child, simply because no other children were around. As we grew, I knew these relationships were increasingly frowned on by my father's advisors, but my father never spoke of it to me, and neither did my mother. This would only highlight her seeming inability to have another child, which I realized later caused her great shame, but I was too young before Gary's birth to honestly notice such a thing.