Colors Watch The
Colors Richness
Colors. Open Your Eyes.
"Nicolette. Nicolette, you're being childish."
I had found my way outside, in our garden, though I didn't go out through that room. There was a passage through one of the hallways a good deal away, and so I had rushed there, abandoned my fan halfway and found a parasol, matching, that I know propped open as I walked through the path. Although it was paved, it was intertwined with small little blossoms and leaves that made it pleasant, and the clicking sound of my boots calmed my nerves, if only a little. Oh, I was devastated!
This was all so sudden, and we were royal; things take time in royal families…marriage, anyway. How in love were they to meet one night…and know, and know that they wanted to be together forever? And Vivianne…she hadn't given me a chance at all. Excuse moi if the idea of marriage was a tad brash!
I wasn't even thinking; how could I? My father was going to be a husband again. It wasn't a curse…. She was right. And she wasn't a monster, or anything, but I just thought the idea of it all was ludicrous. They shouldn't be so ready so soon. Get to know each other, at least! Oh, they say that's what they did, but did she know his dedication to ruling Ange Beau was fierce and a large part of his life? And did he know each and every one of her moods? Her quirks? I think not. They were so mistaken it was comical.
I sighed, collapsing on one of the ancient white benches near the pond, staring down at the Earth. Some of the water had splashed near and around here, from recent rain I suppose, and I kicked it, letting the water dash against my shoes. The frills of my dress spread all around me, and the skintight bodice was rather constricting, making my body straight as a blade and then bend from exasperation, so I resembled a doll, or something unnatural and close to it, painted face and a body that refuses to relax.
But that was me. I had lost all train of thought, of proper ways and decisions on how I should react to this, and I was only a doll at the moment. I felt indescribably cold, alone…and selfish. This is what my father wanted, and I hadn't even thought of him at all. Just my resentment toward Vivianne, and her coming in to share her life with us, and even then, it was only on how I would feel. Why couldn't I just for once accept things not suited to fit my personal preference?
Because this has never happened before. I always, always got what I wanted, when I wanted it, and I never knew how to adapt to other people's wishes, with the sole exceptions of my father, and when I wanted to do someone good. I wasn't a bad person; I'm not, and I'm sure Vivianne wasn't as well, but now the idea on the back of my mind arose, spreading its mystical tentacles around my thoughts and growing, until I could not possibly shut it off. Was I really weak?
I refused to accept it, smoothing my frock and sitting up straight and tall, pulling the parasol open and looking far across the garden, to the maze, with a blazing fire getting warmer in my eyes. The art of ruling was hereditary in our family, and I had gotten the best of the genes, and the knowledge that a strong leader makes a strong land. I was unbreakable, ready to choose the best for even the most trivial of decisions, not to mention the ones that could affect lives for centuries. But I was also seventeen. I was a girl; a teenager, and although I was wise of governing skills, and most educated in political matters, I didn't have very many years behind me. What did I really need to know…that would make me better?
I didn't want to dwell on this anymore, not now anyway.
I stood up, stretching my calves, staring straight into the sun, my honey eyes against its vibrant yellow rays, shimmering like a jewel beneath shine infested water. I wanted to reach out, to put it in my pocket for later wear. The sun. How glorious and warm, a little too warm for my skin, yet I love it all the same.
I knew that I was selfish. But I wasn't weak, and I wasn't oblivious. You know, all these counts against me seemed as though I had no discretion for others at all. In truth, I was dedicating my life to good. I didn't live for myself; I lived for others. But I took pleasure in life. Was that so bad? Don't hurt others' feelings, but don't neglect your own. Vivianne couldn't see that…but I would give her a chance.
Quietly I began my trek to the labyrinth, its hedges green and purple in the morning sky. I had to cross several walkways of flooded water to do it, though I didn't mind. My shoes were already wet, and I enjoyed the infinitesimal puddles I made when I walked. Beaming against soft clouds, the water made a rainbow prism, almost like colorful steppingstones beneath me, and I had to laugh. Rainy days were rare in Ange Beau, and the aftereffects more than made up for them.
Something caught my eye in the pond, less than a foot away from me, for the path was made alongside the water, so one could walk and look, walk and look and never know a bad view. The crystalline color, almost a blue, but not quite, shone in the sunbeams and pulled me to it, so that although I could try, I could never take my eyes off of it.
A prism was there, small and secreted, in the shallow part of the pool, the one I was near. At every minor angle I tilted my head, it seemed to shift its glister, so that I was further drawn to it than I ever meant to be. I looked up for a moment; the house was a good distance away; no one would care to look. My eyes fell on one of the large door-windows. Were they all still in there? Still discussing their plans? If they were, they surely weren't thinking of me (well, maybe Papa), and I was free, finally, to do what I wished.
Slightly smiling, I glanced at the prism again, and quickly removed my shoes. The pathway was already streaming with water, so I left them there, one knocked over, and the other sideways, as if to ask why I was leaving them. I gripped the parasol above my head, sheltering the sun with one hand, and with the other, held up my dress as I started out into the water. The ground was soft (and I'm sure quite muddy!), and not particularly smooth, so once or twice I wavered in my stance, only to close my eyes, and level things…so in a minute…I was fine to go. I edged near and nearer to the shape, whatever it was, its colors drawing my so ardently until I almost forgot to breathe…until finally, near the end of the shallow part, where the water met my knees (the hems of my dress gently grazed the surface, so I let them go), I bent beneath my sunshade, and reached to touch it.
It was a feather, I could see then, dripping wet in my hand, but the anomaly was…the colors didn't fade. Black originally, maybe, but the angles, no matter how I held it, still kept the rainbow prism. And it was shiny; lustrous. Its stem was like a lacquer, and sort of a mahogany, thick and sturdy. It didn't look real, but the soft, airy touch of its plume seemed to convince me.
Ahh, what was it of? I couldn't even begin to imagine. Too small to be a peacock, too large to be anything else. I half believed it belonged to a phoenix, and ruminated how wonderful that would be, but in considering 'real' animals, nothing came to mind. Still, I studied it. The entire feather was quite lovely—not a thing of junk I was expecting to be disappointed by, but almost magical.
I had no pockets, so I hung onto it (with the hand originally holding up my skirts) as I waded back to the path. And it was only then I realized, getting out, my legs dripping wet and shivering, how utterly cold it was! I stopped moving for a moment, eyebrows knitting, mind contemplating how on Earth I had gotten in that pool. With my feather still in hand, I looked over my shoulder: the water was pale blue, and slightly undulating from things disturbing its natural flow. But it looked so icy! Was this quill really that hypnotic—that special? I glanced at it again, quite amused. It was one of my treasures now, whatever it was.
I grabbed my shoes, and began to walk back to the castle, failing to see the red glare its beams cast behind me, for just an instant.
"Bonsoir. Puis-je vous offrir un verre?"
"Good evening. May I offer you a drink?"
"Very good. Try this. Aimeriez-vous aller danser?"
"Oh…I know this one…" I racked my brain of my limited English skills, trying to think of the cognates in the sentence.
"Aimeriez-vous…. Would you…."
"Come on…" Marianne eyed me over the English book (she's fluent in several languages…a goal I have. So far I know three, not including English, which is only intermediate for me at best), trying to coax me with her eyes, as if that would make all the difference in the world. Manon sat behind her, mocking me with her smile. Her hair was up in a loose, red cotton bandana, as it was almost juxtaposing my ruby combs at either side, red studs and matching cotton sundress. It was warm for December; caught between Christmas and the New Year, and I had dressed quite like a Micronesian, nothing vulgar of course, but simple and pretty.
Something clicked in my mind and I cried out, "Would you care to dance!" leaning forward in my chair out of anticipation of Marianne's confirmation; waiting to see her head shake. Instead, still peeking from behind the book, she looked at me, then down at the page, making me wait, and finally her eyes went narrow like a cat's, smiling, and she nodded.
"Yes!" I clapped my hands and leaned back with victory.
"Very good, Nicole (she's one of the very few people that call me that, or call me that with my acceptance). You've gotten twenty new verses right. I think it's okay to take a break, no?" She glanced at her daughter. "If you have no more chores to do right now, you two can go."
I rose, accompanied by a grinning Manon, and we ran out of the schoolroom, not heeding Marianne's joyous reprimands that we would surely sully our dresses if we continued like we did. It was located on the very edge of the east wing, a few stories from the ground floor, where a large window let in light from the heavens on the dark chalkboard, glimmering white walls, and a gracefully enormous double doorway. Although this is where the learning took place, not to mention the music room right next door, very few people, unless they were youths like us or servants, came here. I've always wondered that. The most pleasant parts of the castle, and they were empty! I presume it shows how people are.
It had been a week since I ran from the news, and although I had talked with Vivianne, things between us were a tad silent. I didn't really have anything to say to her, nor she to me, unless they were instructions or odd compliments ('Oh, your hair is so lovely! You really shouldn't wear it like that…'). I was still undecided on how I should like her—I wanted my father to be his happiest, and I knew that was for us to get along—but to enjoy each other's company was much harder to come by. I decided I would accept her, all her flaws, and if she didn't do the same for me, he would surely see and then everything would be solved, in any case ending up in my favor.
Manon tucked some of her blonde hair back in the scarf, turned and giggled, about to descend the staircase. "When are they getting married?"
"Two weeks." I rolled my eyes, making a tart face, and broke to smiling. "But don't let's talk about it. Belle today?"
"Of course."
Halfway through the first stair hallway, or one of them rather, a dark chill swept over my heart. The lights were low here, and I could just detect Julien, tall, fair-haired and scowling at me, almost floating from one room to another. My father's advisor, I don't suppose what age he is…I believe he's still in his twenties, and he's devastatingly handsome, but in an ornery sense. Everywhere he looks he scowls, or smiles so sensually; so evilly that I forget myself for minutes of a time, drawn to his mouth, and watch its dramatic changes with a rapt look upon my face. And then of course I catch his eye, and he watches me watch him, and our gazes clash, and I flutter my eyelids downward, while his eyes dart off to another angle and it's left at that.
It didn't take me long to realize, but I knew. Manon had not seen him.
The pain was escalating by the second, and I clamped my heart eloquently, hurting, but not…physically. It was more of a depressingly cold feeling, like I was all alone, unable to speak…and bound by unearthly laws. In my head a dark crow was taking flight, from a snowy, barren branch, and a sharp kick to my stomach brought me back to Manon's whispered calls, followed by my turning to see Vivianne standing behind us.
She was all in black; another medieval frock with a cleavage-bearing top, slimming dress and wispy hems. She shook her head, bouncing curls that were pulled back and the few errant strands that escaped. Disapproving as usual. "Nicolette, if you're going to run with servants, you should act like one." To Manon: "What is your hair doing? Being shown. I suggest you retie your bandana to cover all of it, if you don't want me cutting it off. Now, if you have nothing else to do, you can go help in the kitchen. There are dishes to be washed. Leave us, now." Manon lowered her head and shook it, glancing up at me through her eyelashes, while her face was flustering, before she curtsied and backed away to the staircase. I watched the whole thing with an open mouth and heated skin, glaring daggers at that woman, and I couldn't verbally protest the whole time Manon was leaving. It was too unbelievable. To me she turned back and sighed, helplessly placing her hands on her hips and looking down at me. "I suppose you can do chores, no? Do you even know what they are? C-h-o-r-e-s. They are tasks you do about a home, cleaning or improving upon it so things won't look so cluttered. I want you to take the bucket and fill it with soap and water, grab a cloth from the third floor closet, and scrub the terrace in the garden. It will do a lot to get ready, and teach you a thing or two about hard work."
I continued looking at her, unmoving.
"I said do it, Nicolette. There's no argument in this."
"Why, I didn't say anything, Mademoiselle Vivianne."
"Yes, you did." She gave me a half smile, proceeding to elegantly walk past me, looking more like a shadow in all this darkness than a woman. And when she entered one of the doors, I couldn't help but notice it was the same one that Julien slid into.
It was wrong, I knew it; my thoughts. They were curious and raging wildly—filled with questions and vivid images of what they might be meeting on…I wasn't sure what room that was, as I had scarcely been down this hallway, let alone all the quarters in it. They must have spoke recently…made their plans to come specifically to here: a secluded hallway where no one would find them. Vivianne must have known that I saw her walk in—but I would bet she never guessed I saw Julien. I should have just backed away; left, gone to where the light was, where all the sane and happy people were.
I crept on tiptoes to the door a few feet away, ever so quietly, so not even the spiders in their neglected corners would here me. I was a cat, chasing prey that was their conversation, edging in closer and closer to the shiny knob, focusing all my energy on it, reaching for it, until my head began to pound. If there was a keyhole I would have looked through it, but there was none, and the walls and door were too thick to hear past…. With a prayer and muscles so lax I could have been dead, I gently turned down the knob, watching it seem like it was frozen, even in motion, and when it was as far down as it could go (without squeaking once! I must have God's grace on my side), I lowered myself on my knees, heart beating fast, shoulders trembling, got against the frame, and pushed the door open a fraction of an inch.
It was hard to see at first; the lights were almost nonexistent in here, as well. I found myself staring at the ground, at its hazel blue carpeting, up to the nightstand near a large bed with a pink and blue quilt (this furniture must have been very old). The ceiling was decorated with a painting of several people, sitting around what I think was a table, though with my limited sight, I couldn't exactly be sure.
Closing my eyes and taking a few quick breaths, I pushed it farther, and saw both Julien and Vivianne sitting on the end of the bed, facing each other. Questioning as I was, I waited, and studied them. She was moving her hands to fit her conversation; shaking her head and speaking things inaudible to me, and he was nodding, agreeing eloquently, still knitting his brows with a callous air.
Without notice she threw back her head and laughed, bell-like and deafening, filling the room with knowledge of her pleasure. "Yes," she said, and then louder, "yes." She raised her arm and brought it round to point at him. "Let's do it. Are you sure it's accurate?"
"Positive, Mam'selle." Even he has to call her that. "Are we ready to begin?" Smirking, she nodded her head. "Excellent."
He then closed his eyes, rubbing his hands together quite harshly, not ceasing until the slightest trail of smoke came out from his closed palms, floating about them majestically.
I blinked a few times. Smoke? From his hands?
That couldn't be right…no…that wasn't right at all! For a human being to move so fast, so sternly to spark the beginnings of an element was…it was beyond comprehension. But as I watched closer…studying Julien's patterns…the way he called so much energy into his actions…I could actually fathom this.
In a minute he finally stopped, his stomach heaving in and out with utmost work. His eyes weren't their normal blue; a sort of Thalo blue, I might add, but a grayish…bluish…haunting shade that sparkled deeply into Vivianne. There was smoke and incense around him, framing almost a broken circle about his body, and though it scared me…I couldn't take my eyes, large and dismayed, away.
"Three…questions…" he looked down at himself, at his hands and legs, and slowly lifted his eyes toward her beneath fixed brows. She looked surprisingly calm.
She smoothed her head with her hands, breathed deeply and nodded. "Of Ange Beau's entire populace, what ranking am I among the most beautiful?"
Julien said nothing, his breathing quite audible, while he watched her with ireful eyes. The silence beneath was intense, surrounding the room, wanting to escape and fill the world; I knew. It crawled up my back, pricking my skin until my hand wavered on the knob. I closed my eyes to collect myself, and went back to attentiveness once again.
"You are the second most beautiful in the land of Ange Beau, which covers the city of Belle to the province of Aimee, to the grounds of Am—"
"Question two is…" said Vivianne, a smile missing from her face, "who is the first most beautiful of Ange Beau?"
He watched her again. Another minute passed by, and then, "The most beautiful in the entire land of Ange Beau is," the smoke made weaving patterns in front of him, mending and fusing together to create an entire wall of mist. A silhouette appeared, reflecting Vivianne's position, but this one had long, flowing straight hair, and was smaller both in height and frame. Her skin started to color, very lightly, and her eyes took on a look of piercing honey. Her mouth was full and curved upwards in a smile, rather arrogantly—probably smug from winning, and when the rest of her was filled in: long hair covering the front of her wispy white dress, nose and ears and cheeks all exposed, my heart skipped a beat.
That was me.
And Vivianne, as she realized this, took her fist from her lap to the mirror. Julien's eyes fluttered as he came to again, same intense blue color, and as she stood up in a rage, his gaze fell on the cracked door.
Immediately I lunged back and ran, working my legs to the nearest staircase, heading to the kitchen to pull Manon away from her unjust chores and fleeing to Belle, to escape the insane wrath of this castle.