A/N
Please reread the preceding chapters ('',) I rewrote them under the amazing guidance of the reviews that you guys gave me! Thanks so much! I am eternally grateful!!
"Close the window, Alva, my dear. The draft is chilling," Lacrecia told me. The commanding tone of her voice irritated me, but I reasoned that I nearest the window and she had every right because she was my stepmother. I stood up and closed the window. We were in the solarium, the same room where we were when we heard of Father's encounter with bandits. It had been two months since my father's death but this room still made me relive one of my grievous moments. Father's death was not just the occurrence that made me recollect the feeling of dread as I enter this room; it was also Mother. Mother was the one who decorated this room, and made sure it lived up to the name solarium.
She had done a marvelous job because to me, no solarium could and would ever match up with this one. The oak furniture complimented the nature motif, and the paintings clearly showed it. There were paintings of forests, waterfalls, meadows, and fields. My favorite painting was that of a lady picking up rosebuds in a field. Mother said that she was reminded of me by this painting because of the lady's dark hair and violet dress. There were crystal vases that adorned many areas of the room. Each delicate crystal vase held flowers that were strictly yellow. It was an unquestionable order from Mother that yellow (or anything near that shade) would be the only flower color to be permitted in the room. The results were vases with yellow daffodils, tulips, daisies, and narcissus. There was a small sanctuary at the right of the room, encased with bow windows that revealed verdant surroundings. Large floor-to-ceiling windows with lunettes stained with patterns of the sun opened to let in golden rays and refreshing zephyrs. There was a skylight facing south, thus permitting light and warmth during the summer season.
In this room, we heard Father's death, and the room was not complimentary to our bereavement. In this room, I felt as if my heart had taken a plummet down the treacherous cliffs of Rosea. While I had cried my heart out because of pure anguish, it seemed to me that my stepfamily—especially Lacrecia—cried because they thought it mandatory. In front of those who wished us condolences, they wore black gowns and a pale mask for a face. But when they had already left, Edith with resume to her self-imposed muteness, Caroline would change from more colorful gowns that she said complimented her better, and Lacrecia would act as if it was not her husband who died. My stepfamily acted as if the funeral was the hardest occasion they had to plan for—well, at least my stepmother and eldest stepsister did. With Lacrecia sending stylish invitations and Caroline fussing over the refreshments to be served after the memorial, Father's funeral seemed more like a party than a remembrance.
Father's funeral was grand because many people knew him. Even the king's advisor was there to represent their Highnesses. There were those who wished to comfort me, but I wouldn't speak to them. Though some attended in respect for the dead, they couldn't help but observe me—I knew. They all wondered if it was really Alva who was crying because they never did see me at all. They all saw me a recluse, and Father's funeral was an opportunity for them to see me—the girl who had conjured a little of their curiosities—at last. But it was not as if they had gotten an eyeful. My head was bowed most of the time, so they rarely saw my face. The first time the message of his death came, I cried until the next night. By then all my tears had run dry; I couldn't cry any more. I had sincerely thought that it was going to be the last time I would be crying for Father, but when I saw his coffin—only his coffin and not the body—I cried and cried as if I was never cried before. Foolishly, I thought I was brave enough to see his body in a box, but I couldn't even bear to look at the coffin, what more of the body? Although I knew myself to have a strong constitution, my knees weakened when I saw Father's dead face, and I nearly fainted with grief.
When I did, I saw that he was forcibly taken out of his time. His face was twisted, almost in pain. People told me before that the faces of the dead were calm and peaceful because they had already liberated themselves from the burden of living and had gone to a better place unknown. And this was what I thought I would see when I would glance at his face. Peace and calm were replaced with bleakness and tension. Father's face was in such a twisted state of anger and sadness that I could almost hear the screams of soul emanating from his dead shell of a body. This image was etched in my mind for nights to come, turning into my nightmares and wrenching away sweet slumber's grasp. Worse came to worse when I had to witness my father's final farewell to the world of the living. If my maid, Barbara, didn't embrace me tightly while he was lowered down the swallowing pit in the earth, I would have fallen with him. Father was the one truly beside me when Mother died. He understood me. And now he was gone, never to return.
Many had thought that I cried harder during Father's funeral because I was closer to him. But what they didn't know was that I was crying for both my parents. I was crying because with Father made sure that Mother would be alive in some way with his stories of their romance. My relationship with my father enabled me to embrace my mother's evanescent presence. But with Father gone in a sharp wind's passing, and my mother's spirit slowly dwindling away with the passage of time, I was all alone, with no one to lean on. I cried for the death of not one but both of my parents. I cried for the death of my family. I cried because I could almost imagine my future slowly transforming into an undistinguishable muddle of bile and waste.
Even the manor that had been my home for the whole of my life had turned into a husk I couldn't comprehend. It was just a huge cave towering over dirt, with crevices filled with whispers of the past.
But I also couldn't let it stop me. In my mind, I could see both of my parents, watching over me with happy yet sad eyes. They were joyful to be in each other's arms once again, but they were sad to leave me behind. I could see them cheering me on to do my best. I could hear their words of praise and encouragement. I was not going to make their death my own death. It would only make things worse, not better. I remembered what I thought when Mother died: I loved them too much for them to be the cause of my grievances. Father and Mother would be with me, yet not beside me. They were far away, in another realm, but I would still live on with their memories.
I closed the window. The draft was chilling. It reminded me once more of the funeral. I sat back on the sofa and read my book. It was about the earlier settlements in Tryla. There were different rituals that once occurred in this very land. It was not as complicated as the happenings after this. There was not much information regarding this period. In the background, I could hear teacups clinking against small china plates, and my stepsister's excited babble on gossip.
A bell was rung. I heard the large door open. Barbara was usually the one who opens the door. She was soon in the same room with us. She approached my stepmother and gave her a piece of paper.
I smiled at Barbara. She was my friend and a companion since I was a child. She smiled at me, her kind eyes lighting up. Her brown hair was already graying and her face was wrinkled, yet she still had the strength to take assist to my needs. My beloved Barbara, I couldn't be myself without her.
Lacrecia read the message with a smile playing on her lips. "Well it's about time. Rumors had been flying about a masque in the castle. And at last this much anticipated had come--addressed for us. It is a celebration for the coming summer."
Tryla never ran out of celebrations. Masques were held frequently but I attended none of them. I was not the best dancer, nor did I like dancing. I supposed that if I tried hard and pushed myself to be a good dancer, it would be fulfilled. Unfortunately, I didn't want to. A daughter of a noble family was expected to attend such occasions, and since I absolutely refused to attend, people were already talking about me again. This time it was not because of my parents but because of my reclusive tendencies. But then, when Father died, Lacrecia informed me that Father was no longer there to grant whatever I wished. Lacrecia wanted me to come to all the social events we would attend as a family. The last event happened last month and many people had had a pleasant surprise seeing me. Alva the recluse. Well, she was no longer a recluse because of her stepmother.
Besides, I had been the receiving end of many of Lacrecia's subtle threats too frequently. Of course there was that constant masked detestation, but detestation nonetheless, in her eyes whenever she spoke with me, and she had always reminded me that she was the mistress of the manor. She never failed to imply that she could get rid of me in a snap, me being just the first biologically orphaned daughter of her late second husband. And I did not intend to challenge her any longer. I knew that no great harm would come to me if I did attend such social functions, so why should I risk something—albeit subtle and imprecise—for something that I must admit could do some good to me?
Caroline jumped up from her chair happily. She, unlike me, loved balls. She was a graceful dancer and loved flaunting it. "Mama! How divine! We must come there in our best!"
Lacrecia was smiling ecstatically like her. "Yes my sweet Caroline. And you will snatch the hearts of their Majesties! You must look marvelous for this event."
I glanced at Edith, who really didn't care. "Another beauty pageant." I heard her whisper to herself.
My stepmother acted as if Caroline and she were the only ones in the room. Edith and I were just part of the wall. Ever since Caroline turned sixteen, she had been driven to almost every social event that had happened. She had already been introduced to a wide range of eligible bachelors, from ducal heirs to young rich barons; every single one of them. But Lacrecia was never satisfied with the "pawns of royalty" as she had so often deemed them be. My stepmother was determined to give her the best marriage possible, and her target was the prince.
Edith was seventeen, yet Lacrecia did not take as much pains into her exposure as Caroline's. My stepmother was quite satisfied with Edith being introduced to some but not all. Before, it was beyond me to fathom the inner workings of my stepmother's mind, but I once overheard Lacrecia telling Caroline Edith was too docile and silent. Society wanted either vivacious, witty, beautiful women (which might be what she wanted Caroline to be although it was nigh impossible) or shy, silent, innocent beautiful women. Edith fell on neither category; her shyness, silence, and innocence to the point of exasperation and peculiarity. She was beautiful, indeed, but her beauty was not enough to compensate for the damage her exaggerated traits had done. But this was not Lacrecia's only reason. Despite Edith's overstated personality, someone did fine her extremely pleasing to the eye as well as the constitution. I had heard that he was a rather prosperous baron, not to poor to be ignored, and at the prime of his life at thirty and eight. He had had his eye on her ever since Edith was first introduced to society. "If things go well, you will have a brother-in-law by the end of the year," Lacrecia told Caroline one day, but they had not intended for me to overhear.
She never spoke about me, as far as I knew. I also didn't hear any kind of admiration or courtship from other members of society, more so from suitors. Lacrecia didn't have plans on me, probably because she knew it would be hard to make me comply, or I was an impossible case with no hope at all. Neither reason seemed appropriate in my circumstance. I didn't care if I were to grow into an old maid, a spinster. If I would be, then I would be a respected erudite woman not common in this time. Matrimony itself was not such a terrible idea, especially if the one you would marry actually loved you and you loved in return. In addition, the thought of having Lacrecia preside over the matchmaking was enough to discourage me. She would probably make sure I would be miserable, and insist I marry a bastard I didn't love, and whom did not love me in return. I wanted someone who could respect me beyond my face, whose affections were triggered more with what I felt and what I though about. But such a man was nigh impossible to find. Men wanted to have beautiful creatures for their wives, not enlightened ones. I never thought myself beautiful, but I did think I qualified for one to be enlightened. Unfortunately for Lacrecia, it was not a quality that the majority desired.
"In this masque...I want you to be a fairy," I heard my stepmother say to Caroline. I snorted at the idea of Caroline being a fairy. She was not a fairy. Quite the contrary. An imp was more like it. "Edith...you be...a gypsy, perhaps?" Edith nodded without reaction. She suddenly was aware of my presence in the room. "Ah...Alva, my dear. I trust that you can think of something for yourself."
It was always like this. She never prioritized me; it was always her daughters. If I were kidnapped then murdered, she would have me buried without batting an eyelash. She would probably say, "Goodness gracious, look at that carcass on our doorstep. Too bad we wouldn't have Alva to entertain us with her horrified face." Then she would have me buried without realizing I was Alva. The only reason why she kept me was because I was her deceased second husband's daughter.
I knew there was not a space in her heart for me, yet I also knew that there was a space in her mind that said "Keep Alva in the manor." Everybody knew of Lord Martin and Lady Fiala's book-loving reclusive daughter. They knew I was alive and living in my own manor. If I were to disappear suddenly, people would be suspicious of my stepfamily's courtesies towards me. Nothing matters more to Lacrecia than reputation. That was the most logical reason I could come up with on why Lacrecia insisted I join such celebrations. She wanted everyone to see that I was treated like her daughter—which was not true.
I didn't care a lot about clothes unlike my stepsister Caroline. Caroline cared about everything she wore, to the smallest bead on the toe of her shoe. She would spent hours in front of her vanity, pampering her face and hair, and adding voluminous amounts to—what else?—her vanity. Edith was one who never showed her true nature, but it was apparent to me that her narcissism needed as much primping up as her hair. The mirror was Edith's best friend, whilst it was Caroline's lover.
The next day, Lacrecia took us all shopping. All her attention was poured to Caroline and Edith. She insisted on buying this and that from every possible merchant. She didn't leave any care for me, and I didn't mind the least. The choices were all mine, not hers, and my liberty was safe. She gave me a decent amount of money to buy whatever I needed. She bid me to deposit my buys to our coach driver, Samuel, and go to the castle afterwards. If I could manage, I should just return to the manor. Then she left me all alone in the marketplace and shopped with her daughters. She tried to flatter me with her excuse. "You are already intelligent enough to know what to wear, so I leave it all to you," she said to me.
I already had something in my mind. I wanted a pure white gown with silver hems. The mask would cover my whole face. The mask would be porcelain and molded with human features. There would be holes for the eyes. The slippers would probably be white also; although wouldn't be seen. I found all of my needs quickly, since no one was in my way. My outfit was modeled after the past Queen Regina. Her trademark gown was white and silver with a low neckline and beaded bodice. My gown fitted the description nicely. I just hoped that the people at the masque would see that I tried to be Queen Regina. After all, in masques you shouldn't be your true self.
Our carriage was near so I gave my packages to Samuel. I told him that I would return to the manor on my own; it wasn't very far.
Time was beside me when I decided to visit the castle gardens. I admit that I had been cooped up in Arden for a long time already, and had missed many changes in my own kingdom. My lingering and wandering presence in the castle grounds wouldn't be a surprise. Though I had been missing a great deal of social affairs, I was still fed (albeit unintentionally) about the society of Tryla by the wagging tongue of Caroline and Lacrecia. Gratitude should be given for their gossiping tendencies, or else I would have been completely naïve.
The last time I visited the castle grounds was when I was eleven, before the Mother's disease had taken a great toll on her health. The only difference from my eleven-year old experience from my present experience was the slight nuances in fashion and landscape. Many courtiers were walking around, enjoying themselves. The couples were grouped together, either just strolling or conversing. Their noble blood was apparent with their rich gowns and tunics of silk and stone. I could see courtiers in every direction, all laughing and talking. No one was alone except me. I was probably the only one who didn't have a friend with me. No matter. I didn't want to declare my presence anyway.
If I were lucky, Queen Emmaline would be present in the grounds. She spent a great deal of her time socializing with her courtiers, eager to make a harmonious relationship. King Raymond was most likely inside his castle managing his kingdom. He was seldom seen in the gardens, engrossed as he was in maintaining the glorious peace and order Tryla had been experiencing since the reign of King Landon. The crown-prince Eric was in random places, as usual. I had heard from Caroline that no one was really able to point out exactly where he enjoys himself. This was precisely why she had not yet been introduced to him because she was not able to plot his activities. Princesses Penelope and Rosena were probably cavorting with young men. They were always so flirty. If they weren't with their men, then they would be with their mother.
The prime flowers in the gardens were roses. There was one of every color. Red, white, pink, yellow...but I didn't like it much. Once, I was in the marketplace, I saw roses that were the color blue and lavender. They were rare flowers found only in northern regions.
The strange thing about courtiers was that they stare at you for so many times. I was walking around, enjoying my freedom, and there they were, looking at me with expressions I couldn't read. They knew about my existence—impossibly not because of the wagging tongues I had set alive—but they couldn't possibly recognize me; I was almost never out. But my face not triggering a memory in them must have been the one that set me apart from all the other nobles.
"I daresay, is that Lady Alva? Lord Martin and Lady Fiala's book-loving daughter?" I heard a lady whisper to her friend when I passed by her.
Her lady friend nodded, her eyes nailed firmly on me. "Pretty little thing. Sadly, she had not acquired her mother's famous charisma."
"You cannot possibly tell just by looking at her," her friend chided. "You haven't spoken with her a' tall, so how can you say she is bereft from these qualities?"
I would have stopped and said, "Yes, you are correct. How can she know?" But then, that would brand me an eavesdropper. I was already the recluse book-loving daughter of Lord Martin and Lady Fiala. The last thing I needed was "eavesdropper" to be added.
The gardens were like mazes, only that you know where you should go. The hedges weren't that tall. There were topiaries. But I didn't care about that. I wanted to go to the most special place: The Garden Heart of Tryla. But when I reached the place, I couldn't get in. The gates leading to the inner gardens were bolted shut. When I looked up though, I could see the head of one of the statues. I couldn't understand why the gardens were closed; The Garden Heart of Tryla had always been open for the public. But then, a throng of gardeners must be in the inner gardens. Maybe that was why it was closed, because it was being tended to and disturbance was not needed.
I sighed. I might see it during the masque yet I wouldn't have all the time.
The return to the manor was easy. I just cut through the forest and I was home. I was there earlier than my stepfamily.
Lacrecia and Caroline were beaming. They were every excited for the masque.
~*~
Caroline twirled in front of the full-length mirror. We three sisters were in the dressing rooms, preparing for the ball. Our maids, Barbara, Cathy, and Rosamund were scurrying about, making sure that every curl was perfect, every crease unnoticeable, and every bead in place—well, at least Cathy and Rosamund were. Caroline was already done with her garb but Rosamund was still doing finishing touches on her already faultless hair. Edith's hair was being fixed by Cynthia.
"Oh, Alva, let me help you," Barbara said. She had already helped me to put on my gown. I couldn't let her get tired because of my vanities.
"It's alright, Barbara," I answered. "Rest now. You have done me great help already! I can do this by myself."
She nodded. I kissed her cheek. "Good night now, Barbara! I'll see you when we return!"
My hair was in a simple braid with interlocking silver ribbons. It was a trick my mother used on me before. My black hair was nice in contrast to the gleaming ribbon. My hair was rather long and reached below my shoulder blades.
Caroline's hair was curly and attractive. Barrettes were holding it in place. It nigh made her look like a little girl. Her gown was evergreen with golden trimmings. It was off-shouldered with bell-sleeves. She did look like a fairy. Her mask made it even more believable. It was a deep green like her gown but flowers and vines were painted on it. The only thing lacking was a pair of translucent rainbow wings.
Edith on the other looked vivacious and exotic, very different from her true nature. Her gown was red like her hair with gold hems. Her mask was painted only gold. Her hair was in a half-ponytail and was finished off with beads. She looked at me with observing eyes. For a second, I thought they glinted with admiration.
I looked at myself and knew they were much better off than me. Caroline would surely lure young men to dance with her and Edith would be in a corner surrounded. I, on the other hand, would be happy and free without any burden. I had no great beauty to speak of, and the last thing I needed were people telling me half-truths. Besides, what would a pretty face be compared to an intellectual mind? This was certainly the case on me.
When Lacrecia came to the dressing room, she almost spilled tears when she saw Caroline. I was in a corner, reading another book and not caring. But then, I observed, of course.
"You are positively divine!" Lacrecia gushed. She went to Edith and said, "You are dazzling!" She returned to Caroline again. She fingered my older sister's clothes gingerly. "Caroline, my dear you are celestial!"
I bit my lip as the painful reminder of my mother entered my consciousness. I bit harder, not caring if it bled. I poured all my attention on the book and tried to put all my thoughts into it. It was a historical fictional novel about migration from Etenod to Tryla. The lead was a young girl. It hinted a slight romance but the story didn't focus much on it. The young girl was molested by her own father because of her beauty, and because her father loved her too much. She decided to run away from Etenod to Tryla where she vowed to find mental and spiritual salvation from Etenod. It fit my reticule perfectly. It was a rather small book and it was not thick because it focused on the more important factors. The letters were also very miniscule.
Lacrecia turned her interests to me. "Why...Alva. I didn't recognize you for a moment."
"Maybe because you hardly look at me," I replied sarcastically. But I smiled at her, in an attempt to mollify my words if so ever she found it offensive.
She smiled back but didn't say anything. She didn't say if I was beautiful or ravishing, or whatever adjective synonymous to beautiful she could come up with. It was clear that she preferred her daughters over me. But that certainly wasn't a new occurrence. At the back of my mind, I wondered if what she said was a compliment or otherwise.
She then ushered us to the carriage, which was waiting outside. Caroline was still fussing with her gown and appearance. Edith just looked out the window.
"Caroline, my dear, this day is the day you will be a step closer to the ultimate dais of the future queen of Tryla," I heard Lacrecia tell her in a muted voice. It was too dark for her to see me rolling my eyes.
When we arrived in the castle, there were already many people. People were greeting guests and escorting them inside. We were helped out of the carriage by two men. I caught them ogling at one of us, although I didn't know who. Caroline, for certain. My sisters' masks were already worn. Lacrecia didn't plan to wear a mask. She just decided to come wearing thick makeup. I didn't want to wear mine yet. The mask made my face hot. I should have thought more about purchasing a full-faced mask.
The place where the masque was held was breathtaking. Many tapestries depicted different scenes. The tapestries were stories. One was of King Nardo, the first king. One was evidently about the Rosean war. My knowledge in history helped me understand the woven tales, unlike other people who just admire the physique.
There were people dancing. I decided not to join them. I was ungraceful. Mother and Father said I wasn't but if they were true, I wouldn't like dancing very much. I only watched. Some people were already eating. I didn't. I just ate at home and it would be awhile before I was hungry again. Besides, my mask made it hard. Why ever did I buy it?
The moment we stepped in, young men offered their hands to us. They wanted to dance. Caroline smiled flirtatiously and accepted. Edith didn't care; she was whisked away to the crowd. I shook my head. I still didn't want to dance. The expression on the young man's face made me feel guilty. If he asks again, accept it. I made a mental note on my head.
Since I was already I the castle, I decided to wander about. This was the chance I had to visit the Garden Heart of Tryla!
In Tryla, we believe that the rulers were the hearts of this kingdom. Without them, we would cease to live. We value our rulers for they were all just and respectable. The Garden Heart of Tryla was believed to be in the middle of all Tryla. In the garden were great many statues dating back from the very beginning of Tryla. The statues were the replicas of the former kings and queens of Tryla. The death of a sovereign meant the making of this statue in commemoration. Statues were never made while the sovereign was alive. It was believed that if the statue was made while the ruler was still alive, the ruler would be taken out of his or her time.
There was also a column in the four sides with clocks. It indicated that time had a direction. As the saying goes "Time is a current, and we are those who go along."
I was the only one who was there. There were lights that illuminated the surroundings, making the faces of the statues real and animate. It was strange that I was the only one there. I had it on good account that many people visited this garden. It seemed that a lot of people prefer dancing over looking at the faces of their dead monarchs.
When I got there, a rush of happiness came to me. I was standing in the middle of Tryla! I was in the heart of my own kingdom, and that I couldn't ignore.
The statues were arranged in chronological order so when I looked up, I saw the fierce face of King Nardo. He was the first known king of Tryla and he was the one who made us prosperous. The statue didn't look old because it was often reconstructed. Next to him was his Queen Seema. She was plain looking yet there was something about her features that made known she was a queen.
I walked along the statues while looking at the nameplates. Many names were already emblazoned on the plates, forever preserved for future generations. The names were already etched in my mind long before this particular moment, a result of boredom or mere love of Tryla. The statues were supposed to be proportionate to the height of the ruler it represented. So if I was about thrice my size, I would be as tall as one of the statues. It was a bit intimidating, walking beside gigantic statues that looked down upon you like omnipotent beings. But nonetheless, it was still exciting to be in a place that had existed for such a long time.
As I made my rounds, I noticed the one statue that made me stop completely. It was dated approximately five decades ago. She was said to be a tall woman when she was still alive, and her statue was almost as tall as the king beside her. Our Trylan sculptors did their best to make these statues as lifelike as possible, and with the light playing the features of the statue, she never looked more human. Her chin was tilted up, her lips in a proud smile.
"Queen Regina," someone behind me said unpredictably that I almost jumped in surprise. I turned. It was a young man, probably near my age. I studied him dispassionately. The only feature that was seen with his mask on was his dark auburn hair, in contrast with my black locks. He was very much taller than me, about a head taller. It was not because he was just tall; it was also because I was quite petite. He grinned. He was probably making up for his rudeness.
"Yes, Queen Regina," I replied, not bothered.
He walked next to me. "Queen Regina, and am I looking at her apparition?
He grinned and I laughed. "I'm quite flattered to know that my masquerade is very effective and believable. I thank you, sir, for your unfailing observation. Yes, I dressed up like her. But I applaud you for recognizing such a garb. Not a lot of people know this is her preferred kind of gown."
"Although I do agree with you that her fashion is not famous, I believe it is for the better. After all, Queen Regina should be known for her truly exceptional reign, and not the immaculacy of her favorite gowns." I nodded with a smile, a remnant of his earlier humor. He continued, "The widowed queen. It is a great honor for her to be placed without her husband so near, unlike the other queens."
Queen Regina was different. When her husband died, she took over as ruler and reigned for ten years, until her son was old enough to do so. She made Tryla a lot different, more thriving. Politically, she had advanced the Rosean peace treaty into an alliance that secured both kingdoms from foreign animosities. But she had contributed greatly in the field of the humanities and academics. Rivalries between local nobles were solved, because she gave her time and consideration in the matters. She valued education and believed that no Trylan should be deprived of it. More public libraries were constructed, and these libraries were open to both noble and commoner. Her patronage over the arts encouraged nobles to be patrons themselves, and in turn encouraged artists to enhance their skill. Because of her, many art galleries were opened, with works of art that would not be gracing the pages of history were it not for her. Concerts were more prevalent, and soon, Tryla rivaled Rosea as a kingdom bearing musical virtuosos. Her reign opened the pathways to peace and prosperity, to be strengthened with the reign of her son, King Landon.
"It is unfair that queens cannot stand alone while kings can stand without their queens," I said, more to myself than him. "And great obstacles should be breached before independence could be attained."
He looked at me strangely. "Why do you say so?"
"Queen Regina stands alone in front of us because she broke the rules of conformity," I answered him immediately, not caring that my views could marvelously scandalize him. "She didn't care what others thought. She was not the ordinary woman whose use is in the home and kitchen. She was great, but she was not entirely accepted. The queens you see with their husbands are the normal average women who are satisfied with their current position. I do not mean to insult my past sovereigns but conformity sometimes does harm," I explained. I was expecting him to say something like "Women just sit and look pretty" or "Reserve your knowledge for making up patterns for your embroidery."
He nodded. "It is true. Sadly true. But women today are not like the women five decades ago. They have choices to do what they wish. It's different now than before. Conformity is unavoidable. One cannot truly break away from it. The society is always there to scrutinize."
"But it took twenty years after her death before her wishes were actually seen to. Must women wait for twenty more years to truly do what they wish? Till now, women are not encouraged to be educated."
He gazed at me mischievously. "You, milady, seem to be educated enough for my standards. And I happen to notice that you kept your mask while speaking with me," he told me.
I raised my eyebrows, although of course he didn't see. "You, sir, are a hypocrite. How can you expect me to take off my mask when you yourself have not?" I smiled. Then I took off my mask. I curtsied. "I am sorry sir, for I have been rude. I am Alva of Rista."
He bowed. He took of his mask. "I have heard of you, Lady Alva. Lord Martin and Lady Fiala's book-loving daughter."
He had forgotten reclusive. "The miracles of chattering courtiers," I replied sarcastically. But I didn't see the supercilious expression I got whenever I introduced myself. Those expressions lasted only for merely a second, but I sincerely did not see anything on him. I suddenly stared at him. He looked familiar, but I haven't been in court since I was eleven. I got to meet my sovereigns, since Father was a prominent figure. I realized who he was, in a flash. "I am sorry, your Majesty, Prince Eric. I didn't recognize you since I haven't been in Court for a long time."
He took my hand and motioned me to stand up. "It's no bother, really. It is a pleasure to talk with you. You are a pleasant conversationalist."
"But your Highness...I insulted your ancestors," I said. "I am sorry."
"It didn't enter my mind that you insulted my ancestors," he said so casually that I doubted if he was an imposter or no.
I eased up a bit. I insulted his ancestors! My tongue was uncontrollable. Prince Eric was two years older than me and more educated. I noticed that I was fidgeting with the cloth of my gown whilst he was hardly disturbed. Well, why should he be? He was the one who shouldn't be nervous with a noble. He experienced this every day of his life! I had never been this close to a sovereign!
But I couldn't let my anxiety show. I didn't want him to think that I was another lady hopelessly enamored by him. A smile played on my lips. "Where did you hear my reputation? Your Majesty?" I asked. I wanted to see if he would say something about my other reputation aside from books.
"From courtiers. But it is impossible to look over a girl like you, even if she doesn't inspire a few untrue tales. It would be a change to speak with someone who could conjure a meaningful conversation." His face didn't change. He was still smiling. The disdain I had received so often in the past was not there.
"And I suppose you don't believe that women are but mere decorations?" I asked him. Then I quickly added, "Your Highness."
"I don't believe that. I know that men and women have equal capabilities to achieving their ambitions. It's just the men use these capabilities and women..." He tried to find another way to break it to me gently. But pounced on his statement before he could say anything.
"It's not their fault!" I found myself retorting strongly. "Conventionality deprives them of the capability. Yes, they can, but with everybody disapproving the woman's every action it is enough to dishearten the ambitions."
He managed to lighten my mood. "And you seem not to be disheartened."
"I cannot afford to be." He was charming, or maybe he was trying to charm me.
"It is not about approval or disapproval. I suppose it is also up to the views of the person. If she regards highly the thoughts of society, then she is incapable of breaking the rules of conventionality thus remaining stagnant, unable to do what one wishes. If she does not regard highly the reactions of society towards her actions, then she can move forward and achieve that ambition," he told me.
"It depends, I believe. But if everybody would stop disapproving then maybe there wouldn't be a hindrance in the first place. We do not live in Etenod where people are treated according to their statuses. People there are maltreated and abused by the higher orders. It is not so in Tryla but due to the edicts bestowed by the impermissible society, it is almost as binding. Cannot we improve it a bit?"
He was thoughtful suddenly, and I feared that I spoke too much. "We could, but with other things that bear a heavier strain and in much need of constant improvement, it would difficult. There is always something to improve in this world. Why? Because we are people and we live in an imperfect world."
Before I could bite my tongue, I said: "But that doesn't mean that we shouldn't try and make this a more bearable world than the insufferable one that we might have."
"It is not about perfecting but improving, milady." He changed the subject. "Where do you get these ideas of yours? You are one remarkable young woman. If women are but decorations, then you disprove that statement."
I felt blood rising to my cheeks. No one really commended me like that and it meant more because it came from a prince.
"What do you expect, your Majesty? I am, after all, the book-loving daughter."
He raised an eyebrow. "Of course," he replied with a grin. "What books do you read? Let me guess, that thing bulging from your reticule is a small book that concerns issues."
I glanced at my reticule. True, the book was not small enough to be invisible. I brought the book out. He took it and smiled when he saw the title.
"To Flee," he quoted the title of the book. "This is a controversial manuscript you are carrying in your reticule. It's about run-away young ladies, crime, passion, discrimination, salvation, politics... This is not a book to be read by young people. It may not be a long novel but within it are views that are hard to fathom. I have heard that this was actually banned in Etenod. He fingered my book once again. He opened the page where my bookmark was. "Quite an enthusiastic reader you are, for having reached this point while others had stopped because of tediousness. This is the part when the young lady Maysun escapes from her father." He looked at me closely. "Aren't you too young for this?"
"Aren't you too young for it?" I retorted immediately, annoyed that age had to be a criteria for enjoying fine literature. "I assume you've read it since you know what happens. You're only two years older than me and it doesn't make much difference."
He gave me back my book. "You are right. No one is too young to read anything. It depends on what suits you. I've read every kind of book there is because it is mandatory for my education. I favor humor though. It lightens up everything that I have to face every day!" We both laughed.
"My humor is bland. I am sarcastic and I love it. History is more of my forte. I little bit of philosophy maybe."
"I envy your intellect. You are young yet you read books that are fit for adults. When we return to the masque, do you promise me your first and last dance?" We started walking back to the masque. We had stayed outside longer than any of us had expected.
How could I decline to the prince, a charming and educated young man who understood my views unlike other people?
Please reread the preceding chapters ('',) I rewrote them under the amazing guidance of the reviews that you guys gave me! Thanks so much! I am eternally grateful!!
"Close the window, Alva, my dear. The draft is chilling," Lacrecia told me. The commanding tone of her voice irritated me, but I reasoned that I nearest the window and she had every right because she was my stepmother. I stood up and closed the window. We were in the solarium, the same room where we were when we heard of Father's encounter with bandits. It had been two months since my father's death but this room still made me relive one of my grievous moments. Father's death was not just the occurrence that made me recollect the feeling of dread as I enter this room; it was also Mother. Mother was the one who decorated this room, and made sure it lived up to the name solarium.
She had done a marvelous job because to me, no solarium could and would ever match up with this one. The oak furniture complimented the nature motif, and the paintings clearly showed it. There were paintings of forests, waterfalls, meadows, and fields. My favorite painting was that of a lady picking up rosebuds in a field. Mother said that she was reminded of me by this painting because of the lady's dark hair and violet dress. There were crystal vases that adorned many areas of the room. Each delicate crystal vase held flowers that were strictly yellow. It was an unquestionable order from Mother that yellow (or anything near that shade) would be the only flower color to be permitted in the room. The results were vases with yellow daffodils, tulips, daisies, and narcissus. There was a small sanctuary at the right of the room, encased with bow windows that revealed verdant surroundings. Large floor-to-ceiling windows with lunettes stained with patterns of the sun opened to let in golden rays and refreshing zephyrs. There was a skylight facing south, thus permitting light and warmth during the summer season.
In this room, we heard Father's death, and the room was not complimentary to our bereavement. In this room, I felt as if my heart had taken a plummet down the treacherous cliffs of Rosea. While I had cried my heart out because of pure anguish, it seemed to me that my stepfamily—especially Lacrecia—cried because they thought it mandatory. In front of those who wished us condolences, they wore black gowns and a pale mask for a face. But when they had already left, Edith with resume to her self-imposed muteness, Caroline would change from more colorful gowns that she said complimented her better, and Lacrecia would act as if it was not her husband who died. My stepfamily acted as if the funeral was the hardest occasion they had to plan for—well, at least my stepmother and eldest stepsister did. With Lacrecia sending stylish invitations and Caroline fussing over the refreshments to be served after the memorial, Father's funeral seemed more like a party than a remembrance.
Father's funeral was grand because many people knew him. Even the king's advisor was there to represent their Highnesses. There were those who wished to comfort me, but I wouldn't speak to them. Though some attended in respect for the dead, they couldn't help but observe me—I knew. They all wondered if it was really Alva who was crying because they never did see me at all. They all saw me a recluse, and Father's funeral was an opportunity for them to see me—the girl who had conjured a little of their curiosities—at last. But it was not as if they had gotten an eyeful. My head was bowed most of the time, so they rarely saw my face. The first time the message of his death came, I cried until the next night. By then all my tears had run dry; I couldn't cry any more. I had sincerely thought that it was going to be the last time I would be crying for Father, but when I saw his coffin—only his coffin and not the body—I cried and cried as if I was never cried before. Foolishly, I thought I was brave enough to see his body in a box, but I couldn't even bear to look at the coffin, what more of the body? Although I knew myself to have a strong constitution, my knees weakened when I saw Father's dead face, and I nearly fainted with grief.
When I did, I saw that he was forcibly taken out of his time. His face was twisted, almost in pain. People told me before that the faces of the dead were calm and peaceful because they had already liberated themselves from the burden of living and had gone to a better place unknown. And this was what I thought I would see when I would glance at his face. Peace and calm were replaced with bleakness and tension. Father's face was in such a twisted state of anger and sadness that I could almost hear the screams of soul emanating from his dead shell of a body. This image was etched in my mind for nights to come, turning into my nightmares and wrenching away sweet slumber's grasp. Worse came to worse when I had to witness my father's final farewell to the world of the living. If my maid, Barbara, didn't embrace me tightly while he was lowered down the swallowing pit in the earth, I would have fallen with him. Father was the one truly beside me when Mother died. He understood me. And now he was gone, never to return.
Many had thought that I cried harder during Father's funeral because I was closer to him. But what they didn't know was that I was crying for both my parents. I was crying because with Father made sure that Mother would be alive in some way with his stories of their romance. My relationship with my father enabled me to embrace my mother's evanescent presence. But with Father gone in a sharp wind's passing, and my mother's spirit slowly dwindling away with the passage of time, I was all alone, with no one to lean on. I cried for the death of not one but both of my parents. I cried for the death of my family. I cried because I could almost imagine my future slowly transforming into an undistinguishable muddle of bile and waste.
Even the manor that had been my home for the whole of my life had turned into a husk I couldn't comprehend. It was just a huge cave towering over dirt, with crevices filled with whispers of the past.
But I also couldn't let it stop me. In my mind, I could see both of my parents, watching over me with happy yet sad eyes. They were joyful to be in each other's arms once again, but they were sad to leave me behind. I could see them cheering me on to do my best. I could hear their words of praise and encouragement. I was not going to make their death my own death. It would only make things worse, not better. I remembered what I thought when Mother died: I loved them too much for them to be the cause of my grievances. Father and Mother would be with me, yet not beside me. They were far away, in another realm, but I would still live on with their memories.
I closed the window. The draft was chilling. It reminded me once more of the funeral. I sat back on the sofa and read my book. It was about the earlier settlements in Tryla. There were different rituals that once occurred in this very land. It was not as complicated as the happenings after this. There was not much information regarding this period. In the background, I could hear teacups clinking against small china plates, and my stepsister's excited babble on gossip.
A bell was rung. I heard the large door open. Barbara was usually the one who opens the door. She was soon in the same room with us. She approached my stepmother and gave her a piece of paper.
I smiled at Barbara. She was my friend and a companion since I was a child. She smiled at me, her kind eyes lighting up. Her brown hair was already graying and her face was wrinkled, yet she still had the strength to take assist to my needs. My beloved Barbara, I couldn't be myself without her.
Lacrecia read the message with a smile playing on her lips. "Well it's about time. Rumors had been flying about a masque in the castle. And at last this much anticipated had come--addressed for us. It is a celebration for the coming summer."
Tryla never ran out of celebrations. Masques were held frequently but I attended none of them. I was not the best dancer, nor did I like dancing. I supposed that if I tried hard and pushed myself to be a good dancer, it would be fulfilled. Unfortunately, I didn't want to. A daughter of a noble family was expected to attend such occasions, and since I absolutely refused to attend, people were already talking about me again. This time it was not because of my parents but because of my reclusive tendencies. But then, when Father died, Lacrecia informed me that Father was no longer there to grant whatever I wished. Lacrecia wanted me to come to all the social events we would attend as a family. The last event happened last month and many people had had a pleasant surprise seeing me. Alva the recluse. Well, she was no longer a recluse because of her stepmother.
Besides, I had been the receiving end of many of Lacrecia's subtle threats too frequently. Of course there was that constant masked detestation, but detestation nonetheless, in her eyes whenever she spoke with me, and she had always reminded me that she was the mistress of the manor. She never failed to imply that she could get rid of me in a snap, me being just the first biologically orphaned daughter of her late second husband. And I did not intend to challenge her any longer. I knew that no great harm would come to me if I did attend such social functions, so why should I risk something—albeit subtle and imprecise—for something that I must admit could do some good to me?
Caroline jumped up from her chair happily. She, unlike me, loved balls. She was a graceful dancer and loved flaunting it. "Mama! How divine! We must come there in our best!"
Lacrecia was smiling ecstatically like her. "Yes my sweet Caroline. And you will snatch the hearts of their Majesties! You must look marvelous for this event."
I glanced at Edith, who really didn't care. "Another beauty pageant." I heard her whisper to herself.
My stepmother acted as if Caroline and she were the only ones in the room. Edith and I were just part of the wall. Ever since Caroline turned sixteen, she had been driven to almost every social event that had happened. She had already been introduced to a wide range of eligible bachelors, from ducal heirs to young rich barons; every single one of them. But Lacrecia was never satisfied with the "pawns of royalty" as she had so often deemed them be. My stepmother was determined to give her the best marriage possible, and her target was the prince.
Edith was seventeen, yet Lacrecia did not take as much pains into her exposure as Caroline's. My stepmother was quite satisfied with Edith being introduced to some but not all. Before, it was beyond me to fathom the inner workings of my stepmother's mind, but I once overheard Lacrecia telling Caroline Edith was too docile and silent. Society wanted either vivacious, witty, beautiful women (which might be what she wanted Caroline to be although it was nigh impossible) or shy, silent, innocent beautiful women. Edith fell on neither category; her shyness, silence, and innocence to the point of exasperation and peculiarity. She was beautiful, indeed, but her beauty was not enough to compensate for the damage her exaggerated traits had done. But this was not Lacrecia's only reason. Despite Edith's overstated personality, someone did fine her extremely pleasing to the eye as well as the constitution. I had heard that he was a rather prosperous baron, not to poor to be ignored, and at the prime of his life at thirty and eight. He had had his eye on her ever since Edith was first introduced to society. "If things go well, you will have a brother-in-law by the end of the year," Lacrecia told Caroline one day, but they had not intended for me to overhear.
She never spoke about me, as far as I knew. I also didn't hear any kind of admiration or courtship from other members of society, more so from suitors. Lacrecia didn't have plans on me, probably because she knew it would be hard to make me comply, or I was an impossible case with no hope at all. Neither reason seemed appropriate in my circumstance. I didn't care if I were to grow into an old maid, a spinster. If I would be, then I would be a respected erudite woman not common in this time. Matrimony itself was not such a terrible idea, especially if the one you would marry actually loved you and you loved in return. In addition, the thought of having Lacrecia preside over the matchmaking was enough to discourage me. She would probably make sure I would be miserable, and insist I marry a bastard I didn't love, and whom did not love me in return. I wanted someone who could respect me beyond my face, whose affections were triggered more with what I felt and what I though about. But such a man was nigh impossible to find. Men wanted to have beautiful creatures for their wives, not enlightened ones. I never thought myself beautiful, but I did think I qualified for one to be enlightened. Unfortunately for Lacrecia, it was not a quality that the majority desired.
"In this masque...I want you to be a fairy," I heard my stepmother say to Caroline. I snorted at the idea of Caroline being a fairy. She was not a fairy. Quite the contrary. An imp was more like it. "Edith...you be...a gypsy, perhaps?" Edith nodded without reaction. She suddenly was aware of my presence in the room. "Ah...Alva, my dear. I trust that you can think of something for yourself."
It was always like this. She never prioritized me; it was always her daughters. If I were kidnapped then murdered, she would have me buried without batting an eyelash. She would probably say, "Goodness gracious, look at that carcass on our doorstep. Too bad we wouldn't have Alva to entertain us with her horrified face." Then she would have me buried without realizing I was Alva. The only reason why she kept me was because I was her deceased second husband's daughter.
I knew there was not a space in her heart for me, yet I also knew that there was a space in her mind that said "Keep Alva in the manor." Everybody knew of Lord Martin and Lady Fiala's book-loving reclusive daughter. They knew I was alive and living in my own manor. If I were to disappear suddenly, people would be suspicious of my stepfamily's courtesies towards me. Nothing matters more to Lacrecia than reputation. That was the most logical reason I could come up with on why Lacrecia insisted I join such celebrations. She wanted everyone to see that I was treated like her daughter—which was not true.
I didn't care a lot about clothes unlike my stepsister Caroline. Caroline cared about everything she wore, to the smallest bead on the toe of her shoe. She would spent hours in front of her vanity, pampering her face and hair, and adding voluminous amounts to—what else?—her vanity. Edith was one who never showed her true nature, but it was apparent to me that her narcissism needed as much primping up as her hair. The mirror was Edith's best friend, whilst it was Caroline's lover.
The next day, Lacrecia took us all shopping. All her attention was poured to Caroline and Edith. She insisted on buying this and that from every possible merchant. She didn't leave any care for me, and I didn't mind the least. The choices were all mine, not hers, and my liberty was safe. She gave me a decent amount of money to buy whatever I needed. She bid me to deposit my buys to our coach driver, Samuel, and go to the castle afterwards. If I could manage, I should just return to the manor. Then she left me all alone in the marketplace and shopped with her daughters. She tried to flatter me with her excuse. "You are already intelligent enough to know what to wear, so I leave it all to you," she said to me.
I already had something in my mind. I wanted a pure white gown with silver hems. The mask would cover my whole face. The mask would be porcelain and molded with human features. There would be holes for the eyes. The slippers would probably be white also; although wouldn't be seen. I found all of my needs quickly, since no one was in my way. My outfit was modeled after the past Queen Regina. Her trademark gown was white and silver with a low neckline and beaded bodice. My gown fitted the description nicely. I just hoped that the people at the masque would see that I tried to be Queen Regina. After all, in masques you shouldn't be your true self.
Our carriage was near so I gave my packages to Samuel. I told him that I would return to the manor on my own; it wasn't very far.
Time was beside me when I decided to visit the castle gardens. I admit that I had been cooped up in Arden for a long time already, and had missed many changes in my own kingdom. My lingering and wandering presence in the castle grounds wouldn't be a surprise. Though I had been missing a great deal of social affairs, I was still fed (albeit unintentionally) about the society of Tryla by the wagging tongue of Caroline and Lacrecia. Gratitude should be given for their gossiping tendencies, or else I would have been completely naïve.
The last time I visited the castle grounds was when I was eleven, before the Mother's disease had taken a great toll on her health. The only difference from my eleven-year old experience from my present experience was the slight nuances in fashion and landscape. Many courtiers were walking around, enjoying themselves. The couples were grouped together, either just strolling or conversing. Their noble blood was apparent with their rich gowns and tunics of silk and stone. I could see courtiers in every direction, all laughing and talking. No one was alone except me. I was probably the only one who didn't have a friend with me. No matter. I didn't want to declare my presence anyway.
If I were lucky, Queen Emmaline would be present in the grounds. She spent a great deal of her time socializing with her courtiers, eager to make a harmonious relationship. King Raymond was most likely inside his castle managing his kingdom. He was seldom seen in the gardens, engrossed as he was in maintaining the glorious peace and order Tryla had been experiencing since the reign of King Landon. The crown-prince Eric was in random places, as usual. I had heard from Caroline that no one was really able to point out exactly where he enjoys himself. This was precisely why she had not yet been introduced to him because she was not able to plot his activities. Princesses Penelope and Rosena were probably cavorting with young men. They were always so flirty. If they weren't with their men, then they would be with their mother.
The prime flowers in the gardens were roses. There was one of every color. Red, white, pink, yellow...but I didn't like it much. Once, I was in the marketplace, I saw roses that were the color blue and lavender. They were rare flowers found only in northern regions.
The strange thing about courtiers was that they stare at you for so many times. I was walking around, enjoying my freedom, and there they were, looking at me with expressions I couldn't read. They knew about my existence—impossibly not because of the wagging tongues I had set alive—but they couldn't possibly recognize me; I was almost never out. But my face not triggering a memory in them must have been the one that set me apart from all the other nobles.
"I daresay, is that Lady Alva? Lord Martin and Lady Fiala's book-loving daughter?" I heard a lady whisper to her friend when I passed by her.
Her lady friend nodded, her eyes nailed firmly on me. "Pretty little thing. Sadly, she had not acquired her mother's famous charisma."
"You cannot possibly tell just by looking at her," her friend chided. "You haven't spoken with her a' tall, so how can you say she is bereft from these qualities?"
I would have stopped and said, "Yes, you are correct. How can she know?" But then, that would brand me an eavesdropper. I was already the recluse book-loving daughter of Lord Martin and Lady Fiala. The last thing I needed was "eavesdropper" to be added.
The gardens were like mazes, only that you know where you should go. The hedges weren't that tall. There were topiaries. But I didn't care about that. I wanted to go to the most special place: The Garden Heart of Tryla. But when I reached the place, I couldn't get in. The gates leading to the inner gardens were bolted shut. When I looked up though, I could see the head of one of the statues. I couldn't understand why the gardens were closed; The Garden Heart of Tryla had always been open for the public. But then, a throng of gardeners must be in the inner gardens. Maybe that was why it was closed, because it was being tended to and disturbance was not needed.
I sighed. I might see it during the masque yet I wouldn't have all the time.
The return to the manor was easy. I just cut through the forest and I was home. I was there earlier than my stepfamily.
Lacrecia and Caroline were beaming. They were every excited for the masque.
~*~
Caroline twirled in front of the full-length mirror. We three sisters were in the dressing rooms, preparing for the ball. Our maids, Barbara, Cathy, and Rosamund were scurrying about, making sure that every curl was perfect, every crease unnoticeable, and every bead in place—well, at least Cathy and Rosamund were. Caroline was already done with her garb but Rosamund was still doing finishing touches on her already faultless hair. Edith's hair was being fixed by Cynthia.
"Oh, Alva, let me help you," Barbara said. She had already helped me to put on my gown. I couldn't let her get tired because of my vanities.
"It's alright, Barbara," I answered. "Rest now. You have done me great help already! I can do this by myself."
She nodded. I kissed her cheek. "Good night now, Barbara! I'll see you when we return!"
My hair was in a simple braid with interlocking silver ribbons. It was a trick my mother used on me before. My black hair was nice in contrast to the gleaming ribbon. My hair was rather long and reached below my shoulder blades.
Caroline's hair was curly and attractive. Barrettes were holding it in place. It nigh made her look like a little girl. Her gown was evergreen with golden trimmings. It was off-shouldered with bell-sleeves. She did look like a fairy. Her mask made it even more believable. It was a deep green like her gown but flowers and vines were painted on it. The only thing lacking was a pair of translucent rainbow wings.
Edith on the other looked vivacious and exotic, very different from her true nature. Her gown was red like her hair with gold hems. Her mask was painted only gold. Her hair was in a half-ponytail and was finished off with beads. She looked at me with observing eyes. For a second, I thought they glinted with admiration.
I looked at myself and knew they were much better off than me. Caroline would surely lure young men to dance with her and Edith would be in a corner surrounded. I, on the other hand, would be happy and free without any burden. I had no great beauty to speak of, and the last thing I needed were people telling me half-truths. Besides, what would a pretty face be compared to an intellectual mind? This was certainly the case on me.
When Lacrecia came to the dressing room, she almost spilled tears when she saw Caroline. I was in a corner, reading another book and not caring. But then, I observed, of course.
"You are positively divine!" Lacrecia gushed. She went to Edith and said, "You are dazzling!" She returned to Caroline again. She fingered my older sister's clothes gingerly. "Caroline, my dear you are celestial!"
I bit my lip as the painful reminder of my mother entered my consciousness. I bit harder, not caring if it bled. I poured all my attention on the book and tried to put all my thoughts into it. It was a historical fictional novel about migration from Etenod to Tryla. The lead was a young girl. It hinted a slight romance but the story didn't focus much on it. The young girl was molested by her own father because of her beauty, and because her father loved her too much. She decided to run away from Etenod to Tryla where she vowed to find mental and spiritual salvation from Etenod. It fit my reticule perfectly. It was a rather small book and it was not thick because it focused on the more important factors. The letters were also very miniscule.
Lacrecia turned her interests to me. "Why...Alva. I didn't recognize you for a moment."
"Maybe because you hardly look at me," I replied sarcastically. But I smiled at her, in an attempt to mollify my words if so ever she found it offensive.
She smiled back but didn't say anything. She didn't say if I was beautiful or ravishing, or whatever adjective synonymous to beautiful she could come up with. It was clear that she preferred her daughters over me. But that certainly wasn't a new occurrence. At the back of my mind, I wondered if what she said was a compliment or otherwise.
She then ushered us to the carriage, which was waiting outside. Caroline was still fussing with her gown and appearance. Edith just looked out the window.
"Caroline, my dear, this day is the day you will be a step closer to the ultimate dais of the future queen of Tryla," I heard Lacrecia tell her in a muted voice. It was too dark for her to see me rolling my eyes.
When we arrived in the castle, there were already many people. People were greeting guests and escorting them inside. We were helped out of the carriage by two men. I caught them ogling at one of us, although I didn't know who. Caroline, for certain. My sisters' masks were already worn. Lacrecia didn't plan to wear a mask. She just decided to come wearing thick makeup. I didn't want to wear mine yet. The mask made my face hot. I should have thought more about purchasing a full-faced mask.
The place where the masque was held was breathtaking. Many tapestries depicted different scenes. The tapestries were stories. One was of King Nardo, the first king. One was evidently about the Rosean war. My knowledge in history helped me understand the woven tales, unlike other people who just admire the physique.
There were people dancing. I decided not to join them. I was ungraceful. Mother and Father said I wasn't but if they were true, I wouldn't like dancing very much. I only watched. Some people were already eating. I didn't. I just ate at home and it would be awhile before I was hungry again. Besides, my mask made it hard. Why ever did I buy it?
The moment we stepped in, young men offered their hands to us. They wanted to dance. Caroline smiled flirtatiously and accepted. Edith didn't care; she was whisked away to the crowd. I shook my head. I still didn't want to dance. The expression on the young man's face made me feel guilty. If he asks again, accept it. I made a mental note on my head.
Since I was already I the castle, I decided to wander about. This was the chance I had to visit the Garden Heart of Tryla!
In Tryla, we believe that the rulers were the hearts of this kingdom. Without them, we would cease to live. We value our rulers for they were all just and respectable. The Garden Heart of Tryla was believed to be in the middle of all Tryla. In the garden were great many statues dating back from the very beginning of Tryla. The statues were the replicas of the former kings and queens of Tryla. The death of a sovereign meant the making of this statue in commemoration. Statues were never made while the sovereign was alive. It was believed that if the statue was made while the ruler was still alive, the ruler would be taken out of his or her time.
There was also a column in the four sides with clocks. It indicated that time had a direction. As the saying goes "Time is a current, and we are those who go along."
I was the only one who was there. There were lights that illuminated the surroundings, making the faces of the statues real and animate. It was strange that I was the only one there. I had it on good account that many people visited this garden. It seemed that a lot of people prefer dancing over looking at the faces of their dead monarchs.
When I got there, a rush of happiness came to me. I was standing in the middle of Tryla! I was in the heart of my own kingdom, and that I couldn't ignore.
The statues were arranged in chronological order so when I looked up, I saw the fierce face of King Nardo. He was the first known king of Tryla and he was the one who made us prosperous. The statue didn't look old because it was often reconstructed. Next to him was his Queen Seema. She was plain looking yet there was something about her features that made known she was a queen.
I walked along the statues while looking at the nameplates. Many names were already emblazoned on the plates, forever preserved for future generations. The names were already etched in my mind long before this particular moment, a result of boredom or mere love of Tryla. The statues were supposed to be proportionate to the height of the ruler it represented. So if I was about thrice my size, I would be as tall as one of the statues. It was a bit intimidating, walking beside gigantic statues that looked down upon you like omnipotent beings. But nonetheless, it was still exciting to be in a place that had existed for such a long time.
As I made my rounds, I noticed the one statue that made me stop completely. It was dated approximately five decades ago. She was said to be a tall woman when she was still alive, and her statue was almost as tall as the king beside her. Our Trylan sculptors did their best to make these statues as lifelike as possible, and with the light playing the features of the statue, she never looked more human. Her chin was tilted up, her lips in a proud smile.
"Queen Regina," someone behind me said unpredictably that I almost jumped in surprise. I turned. It was a young man, probably near my age. I studied him dispassionately. The only feature that was seen with his mask on was his dark auburn hair, in contrast with my black locks. He was very much taller than me, about a head taller. It was not because he was just tall; it was also because I was quite petite. He grinned. He was probably making up for his rudeness.
"Yes, Queen Regina," I replied, not bothered.
He walked next to me. "Queen Regina, and am I looking at her apparition?
He grinned and I laughed. "I'm quite flattered to know that my masquerade is very effective and believable. I thank you, sir, for your unfailing observation. Yes, I dressed up like her. But I applaud you for recognizing such a garb. Not a lot of people know this is her preferred kind of gown."
"Although I do agree with you that her fashion is not famous, I believe it is for the better. After all, Queen Regina should be known for her truly exceptional reign, and not the immaculacy of her favorite gowns." I nodded with a smile, a remnant of his earlier humor. He continued, "The widowed queen. It is a great honor for her to be placed without her husband so near, unlike the other queens."
Queen Regina was different. When her husband died, she took over as ruler and reigned for ten years, until her son was old enough to do so. She made Tryla a lot different, more thriving. Politically, she had advanced the Rosean peace treaty into an alliance that secured both kingdoms from foreign animosities. But she had contributed greatly in the field of the humanities and academics. Rivalries between local nobles were solved, because she gave her time and consideration in the matters. She valued education and believed that no Trylan should be deprived of it. More public libraries were constructed, and these libraries were open to both noble and commoner. Her patronage over the arts encouraged nobles to be patrons themselves, and in turn encouraged artists to enhance their skill. Because of her, many art galleries were opened, with works of art that would not be gracing the pages of history were it not for her. Concerts were more prevalent, and soon, Tryla rivaled Rosea as a kingdom bearing musical virtuosos. Her reign opened the pathways to peace and prosperity, to be strengthened with the reign of her son, King Landon.
"It is unfair that queens cannot stand alone while kings can stand without their queens," I said, more to myself than him. "And great obstacles should be breached before independence could be attained."
He looked at me strangely. "Why do you say so?"
"Queen Regina stands alone in front of us because she broke the rules of conformity," I answered him immediately, not caring that my views could marvelously scandalize him. "She didn't care what others thought. She was not the ordinary woman whose use is in the home and kitchen. She was great, but she was not entirely accepted. The queens you see with their husbands are the normal average women who are satisfied with their current position. I do not mean to insult my past sovereigns but conformity sometimes does harm," I explained. I was expecting him to say something like "Women just sit and look pretty" or "Reserve your knowledge for making up patterns for your embroidery."
He nodded. "It is true. Sadly true. But women today are not like the women five decades ago. They have choices to do what they wish. It's different now than before. Conformity is unavoidable. One cannot truly break away from it. The society is always there to scrutinize."
"But it took twenty years after her death before her wishes were actually seen to. Must women wait for twenty more years to truly do what they wish? Till now, women are not encouraged to be educated."
He gazed at me mischievously. "You, milady, seem to be educated enough for my standards. And I happen to notice that you kept your mask while speaking with me," he told me.
I raised my eyebrows, although of course he didn't see. "You, sir, are a hypocrite. How can you expect me to take off my mask when you yourself have not?" I smiled. Then I took off my mask. I curtsied. "I am sorry sir, for I have been rude. I am Alva of Rista."
He bowed. He took of his mask. "I have heard of you, Lady Alva. Lord Martin and Lady Fiala's book-loving daughter."
He had forgotten reclusive. "The miracles of chattering courtiers," I replied sarcastically. But I didn't see the supercilious expression I got whenever I introduced myself. Those expressions lasted only for merely a second, but I sincerely did not see anything on him. I suddenly stared at him. He looked familiar, but I haven't been in court since I was eleven. I got to meet my sovereigns, since Father was a prominent figure. I realized who he was, in a flash. "I am sorry, your Majesty, Prince Eric. I didn't recognize you since I haven't been in Court for a long time."
He took my hand and motioned me to stand up. "It's no bother, really. It is a pleasure to talk with you. You are a pleasant conversationalist."
"But your Highness...I insulted your ancestors," I said. "I am sorry."
"It didn't enter my mind that you insulted my ancestors," he said so casually that I doubted if he was an imposter or no.
I eased up a bit. I insulted his ancestors! My tongue was uncontrollable. Prince Eric was two years older than me and more educated. I noticed that I was fidgeting with the cloth of my gown whilst he was hardly disturbed. Well, why should he be? He was the one who shouldn't be nervous with a noble. He experienced this every day of his life! I had never been this close to a sovereign!
But I couldn't let my anxiety show. I didn't want him to think that I was another lady hopelessly enamored by him. A smile played on my lips. "Where did you hear my reputation? Your Majesty?" I asked. I wanted to see if he would say something about my other reputation aside from books.
"From courtiers. But it is impossible to look over a girl like you, even if she doesn't inspire a few untrue tales. It would be a change to speak with someone who could conjure a meaningful conversation." His face didn't change. He was still smiling. The disdain I had received so often in the past was not there.
"And I suppose you don't believe that women are but mere decorations?" I asked him. Then I quickly added, "Your Highness."
"I don't believe that. I know that men and women have equal capabilities to achieving their ambitions. It's just the men use these capabilities and women..." He tried to find another way to break it to me gently. But pounced on his statement before he could say anything.
"It's not their fault!" I found myself retorting strongly. "Conventionality deprives them of the capability. Yes, they can, but with everybody disapproving the woman's every action it is enough to dishearten the ambitions."
He managed to lighten my mood. "And you seem not to be disheartened."
"I cannot afford to be." He was charming, or maybe he was trying to charm me.
"It is not about approval or disapproval. I suppose it is also up to the views of the person. If she regards highly the thoughts of society, then she is incapable of breaking the rules of conventionality thus remaining stagnant, unable to do what one wishes. If she does not regard highly the reactions of society towards her actions, then she can move forward and achieve that ambition," he told me.
"It depends, I believe. But if everybody would stop disapproving then maybe there wouldn't be a hindrance in the first place. We do not live in Etenod where people are treated according to their statuses. People there are maltreated and abused by the higher orders. It is not so in Tryla but due to the edicts bestowed by the impermissible society, it is almost as binding. Cannot we improve it a bit?"
He was thoughtful suddenly, and I feared that I spoke too much. "We could, but with other things that bear a heavier strain and in much need of constant improvement, it would difficult. There is always something to improve in this world. Why? Because we are people and we live in an imperfect world."
Before I could bite my tongue, I said: "But that doesn't mean that we shouldn't try and make this a more bearable world than the insufferable one that we might have."
"It is not about perfecting but improving, milady." He changed the subject. "Where do you get these ideas of yours? You are one remarkable young woman. If women are but decorations, then you disprove that statement."
I felt blood rising to my cheeks. No one really commended me like that and it meant more because it came from a prince.
"What do you expect, your Majesty? I am, after all, the book-loving daughter."
He raised an eyebrow. "Of course," he replied with a grin. "What books do you read? Let me guess, that thing bulging from your reticule is a small book that concerns issues."
I glanced at my reticule. True, the book was not small enough to be invisible. I brought the book out. He took it and smiled when he saw the title.
"To Flee," he quoted the title of the book. "This is a controversial manuscript you are carrying in your reticule. It's about run-away young ladies, crime, passion, discrimination, salvation, politics... This is not a book to be read by young people. It may not be a long novel but within it are views that are hard to fathom. I have heard that this was actually banned in Etenod. He fingered my book once again. He opened the page where my bookmark was. "Quite an enthusiastic reader you are, for having reached this point while others had stopped because of tediousness. This is the part when the young lady Maysun escapes from her father." He looked at me closely. "Aren't you too young for this?"
"Aren't you too young for it?" I retorted immediately, annoyed that age had to be a criteria for enjoying fine literature. "I assume you've read it since you know what happens. You're only two years older than me and it doesn't make much difference."
He gave me back my book. "You are right. No one is too young to read anything. It depends on what suits you. I've read every kind of book there is because it is mandatory for my education. I favor humor though. It lightens up everything that I have to face every day!" We both laughed.
"My humor is bland. I am sarcastic and I love it. History is more of my forte. I little bit of philosophy maybe."
"I envy your intellect. You are young yet you read books that are fit for adults. When we return to the masque, do you promise me your first and last dance?" We started walking back to the masque. We had stayed outside longer than any of us had expected.
How could I decline to the prince, a charming and educated young man who understood my views unlike other people?