Chapter Nine: The First Festival

She was leaving. That was that. She would never return to this vile place ever again, and nothing could stop her from going. First, though, she would have to gather her wits about her, march straight up to Head Maid, and collect her wages.

That was easier said than done. Aella had crossed paths with the Head Maid once before, and it was a less than pleasurable experience. She paced in her tiny home, soon to be lost and forgotten like her post as Princess. What to do, what to do! The Head Maid was likely to be busy, which would put her in a fouler mood if Aella interrupted duties.

Today was the festival celebrating the arrival of all the royalty. Damn event! Aella scowled and sat down upon her pallet. She would just have to stay another day. The thought made her claw at her hair in misery. How could she possibly stand living here another day!

Then, a thought slithered in her head. She reached her hand under the straw pile and felt around desperately. Finally, her hand enclosed around a familiar hard ball the size of a very large marble. Triumphantly, she held out her walnut. She pried it open and took out the first dress.

It was the gold dress. Even in her dim surroundings, it shone with an unmatched radiance. The smooth fabric under her fingers made Aella yearn for a time long past. She was tempted her run her hand all over and savor the feel, but she did not want to soil it with her nasty hands. Instead, she held it up, pinching the shoulders and being careful not to let it drag on the floor.

Yes, the dress was beautiful, but Aella was currently a mess. Her hair was in shambles, and her skin seemed stained permanently. She replaced the dress in the walnut with chary before rushing out of her room.

She entered the kitchen, dodging between the laboring cooks, and retrieved a medium-sized bowl from the cabinets. It was a plain ceramic dish, likely not be missed. She tried to escape without being seen, but Fritz caught her first.

"Roughskin! There you are," He waddled over to her. "Turns out I may have use for you. Everyone else is running all over place with not a moment spare. That leaves me with a dusty kitchen with no one to sweep it. The Kings and Queens shall not have dust particles in their evening meal! I want you to sweep it for me."

"But I wanted to see the festival," Aella complained bitterly. She formed a lie into her head. "I've never seen such a big event before, and I've heard they've allowed commoners into the lower festivities." She smiled smugly. "Besides, if I sweep now, then the dust would return anew before dinner was served, and you would still have dusty food."

"You're right," Fritz said thoughtfully. "Return in half a hour. The meal shall be ready by then, and then you can sweep the kitchen and put it in order!" Aella bounded off as Fritz called after her, "But stay away from the nobility! Knowing you, you probably won't listen. And what are you doing with that bowl?"

Behind the stables, a small creek burbled by. Aella dipped the bowl into the creek and filled it with the clear, cool water. She carried it into her compartment, where she held it by a small crack in the walls where a tiny ray of sunlight poured through. Using an old rag, she cleaned her face and hands. Often, she would have to run out and refill the bowl with a fresh supply, hiding the cleaner skin under her mantle. She wanted to make sure she looked radiant. Then, she poured it over her hair and let it soak through every strand and flush away every grain of dirt.

While her hair was still wet- she could not let it dry due to time restraints- she flipped it up into what she imagined would be a fancy updo. She then slipped on the golden dress, thanking the good Lord that it covered her tatty shoes. She peeked out the door to make sure no one saw her before dashing out and a good distance away. She noticed how hard it was to run in such a dress, and she almost loathed that fact.

When she walked past a mirror hanging from one of the booths, she did not recognize herself. Her skin, thought not nearly as smooth as it had been, was creamy and unblemished. Her hair now shone like the gilt of her dress. Her eyes, though marred by dark circles, seemed bright and clear.

Commoners skipped and strutted through the lower booths. Children played rigged games, women fussed over wooden beaded jewelry and men drank themselves merry. Aella ignored these sights as she approached the roped off section, near the Fountain of DuRoi.

At first sight, the guards immediately took her to be a King's daughter, and they let her in, no questions asked. It was still a walk to the dances, for the nobility liked to be a good distance away from the normal folk. She probably looked strange with no escort, with her hair lopsided, and she prayed that she would not need to be announced, for she would not know what to tell them. Luckily, she was able to elude them.

Xavier caught sight of her immediately. His eyes widened in amazement, and she was uncomfortable with it. Every other man's eyes were on her, yet she did not mind them so much. She suddenly wondered what she was doing here, and she froze to her spot as she realized the truth.

Aella had no idea whatsoever why she had come. Radovan would certainly recognize the dress and Xavier- he was the very man she wanted to avoid. She feigned a calm appearance as she forced one trembling leg in front of the other. A plan was swirling in her mind. She could turn this to her advantage.

"Milady," Xavier's bewitched voice came to her ears, both pleasantly and despicably. Aella curtsied out of respect, making her expression remained stoic. "Milady, would you do me the honor of claiming your next dance?" He held out his hand, and Aella took it, noticing how warm it was. A new song began, a slow, melodious waltz. Aella found herself out of practice, but her feet seemed to find their own way out of memory. They, at least, knew where they really belong: in a court rather than some dirty stables.

If Xavier noticed how rough the skin of her palms were, he made no sign of it. His eyes were transfixed in hers, and she found that slightly unnerving. She strained herself not to look away and keep the contact.

"My eyes have never seen any maiden before so beautiful as this," Aella swore she heard him say this, but he did so in such a manner, that his lips did not twitter and it came out in a whisper.

"Looks are not love," She told him, though she was trying to remain as laconic as possible. The statement surprised Xavier. He gave her a strange look as he led on in the dance.

"Excuse me?"

"I am sorry, milord. That statement was not my place to say," Aella apologized with as much apathy as she could muster. "Please forgive me."

"No, no. You are most certainly correct in that statement," He said. "I was just taken aback. It is I who should beg for forgiveness." He smiled. "Please, will you give me a name?"

"You may call me Rosalind Ece," She said, coming with the alias quickly.

"You seem very nice Rosalind," He said.

"I am exactly what you want after all," She continued. His brow furrowed in confusion. "Perfect, right? Noble, of course, in demeanor. Obedient, respectful, polite, completely and utterly boring and emotionless. But that's what you like after all."

"I most certainly like people with character," He countered.

"You don't show it," Aella snorted. "You're oogling after me, and I have no character whatsoever. Must be the looks, eh? Oh yes, but looks aren't love." She sighed with contempt. "I bet you don't even know what you like. You complain about "commoner" nobles and cold ladies yet you resent anyone who talks back to you. You are a man of contradictions."

"I do know what I like!"

"Enlighten me."

"I have only just met you. How would you any of that to back your false statements?" Xavier had her now. The music ended, and he released her hands. Now would be the time for the perfect getaway.

"Because I do," She said. "I shall leave you now. Just think about once what you truly want and like. You might be tolerable if you're actually happy, as scary as that might seem." She stalked off, chin up proudly. She had isolated herself when Radovan stepped out of the shadows, wine bottle in hand.

"Ae- hic-Aella?" He choked out. It was slurred by the heavy alcohol.

"No, you fool. I'm a figment of your drunken imagination. Begone." Without another word, Aella fled. She marveled at her own courage and wit. She liked this dangerous, sneaky exploit. More freedom and power than she ever had before. And it felt good to talk back to Xavier like that.

Aella smiled to herself and began humming a merry tune.

---

Aella breezed through her chores. She returned her dress and dusted herself back into her grimy state before returning to the kitchens. Fritz remarked at her sudden enthusiasm, and Flavia actually acknowledged her as more than her afternoon amusement. She nearly danced back to her stable room, forgetting completely about leaving.

He was waiting there for her. Not directly at the door, but she saw Xavier standing by the stable, and it was clear he was waiting for her. She curtsied to him stiffly, but he cut her off.

"I know what I want, and I want you to stay," His voice rang true. "Someone told me to search for something I like, and your remarks are often refreshing, amusing even if they improper. As long as you keep them for when we are alone and do not sharpen your tongue among my guests, you can stay. In fact, I implore you to stay. Life has been quite interesting since you appeared." Aella nodded, and she nearly stopped breathing. This had not been her intent, but it looked like she would have to live with it.


Author's Note: Thank you everyone for the support. Remember, no reviews means no updates. But I have such wonderful reviewers, that I doubt that will be a problem. Till next time...