Chapter 3: Of brown makeup and spoiled cats
The next day, I was woken up again at four by Lucille claiming that she needed help dressing for the prince. Deprived of my sleep twice in a row, I lethargically followed Lucille back to her room. This morning, Lucille was wide awake. Once again, Lucille forced me to wash her hair and rub in foul smelling perfume. Then, I curled and arranged her hair so that half of her hair was secured on top of her head with a jeweled hair band and the rest hung down her back in little locks and framed her face.
The makeup part was horrendous. Lucille had heard somewhere that the prince preferred girls who wore a ton of make up, but was able made it look natural. According to current gossip, a girl had achieved just that, and the prince danced with her at least a dozen times at the latest ball. The girl had also been wearing brown blush, and everyone thought the blush was what had attracted the prince. As a result, every eligible female now tried to replicate her makeup.
Of course I do not believe such a rumor. To be frank, it was probably started by some sly boy-obsessed girl trying to sabotage her rivals. But Lucille had absorbed every word of it. I plastered on layer upon layer of makeup, each time Lucille declared she had not worn enough makeup for the prince to notice her as he did the other girl. After that, Lucille hassled me because the makeup did not seem natural enough. How exactly does someone wear a ton of makeup, and then look like they did not wear any at all?
After about an hour, Lucille declared her makeup as satisfactory as it was going to get and we started on the blush. Lucille forced me to smear brown muddy paint on her cheeks and claimed that I had done it wrong, because she looked like she had fallen into the mud and the infamous girl did not look like this because if she did, than the prince certainly would not have danced with her then.
Half an hour later and Lucille had managed to convince herself that the brown makeup only seemed weird because it was a new trend and in reality, made her look as pretty as the girl the prince liked. With half an hour before the prince was due to arrive, I helped Lucille struggle into her dress. She had decided on it the day before. It was pink, as was half of her wardrobe, and covered with mesh and ribbons. The dress was sleeveless and low cut with bows plastered about the bodice. The waist was tight, and then flared out over the hips. Lucille wore eight petticoats underneath the dress, to give it a full effect, but in really, it made her look like a porcupine fish that rolled in pink paint, with ribbons and bows as spines and brown splashes on its cheeks.
Lucille hurried to the sitting room and stood there, pacing the room and peeking out from the windows at the front where the prince was arranged to arrive. As time went by and the prince failed to arrive, Lucille's pacing became frantic and her mood shifted from anxious to irate. Finally, ten minutes later, the herald announced the prince's arrival. Lucille shooed me from the room and into the servant's hallway. This was a poorly decorated hallway used by the servants during parties. It was connected to the kitchen, so the servants could deliver food and drinks without crowding the hallways. Ingenious, really.
As I peeked through the door, Prince Derek entered with his bodyguard and Helga. Derek recoiled slightly at the sight of Lucille's makeup and brown blush, but recovered nicely. Lucille was seated with her hands clasped on her lap and calmly drinking tea, as if she had not been venting at me just moments before. "Oh Prince Derek!" She said in an unnaturally high voice, "It's so nice of you to come."
"It's nice of you to invite me." Derek replied the polite mask on his face revealing nothing, but inside I suspect he is grimacing. Derek doesn't usually act so stiff.
Meanwhile, Helga had been trying to charm Derek's bodyguard. She was laughing and slapping his arm, but the bodyguard looked unperturbed. At last she tried to convince him to take a walk with her but the bodyguard refused to budge. At last, Helga left, rejected. Lucille, aggravated because her mother had fail to strip Derek of his bodyguard but quick to hide her displeasure, entwined Derek's arm with hers and led him away, giggling shrilly.
Later that morning, Hanna sent me to pick roses for the brunch table for Lucille and the prince. I heard a voice call my name.
"Ari!" I spun around. Derek was heading towards me. Lucille trailed behind him, the murderous look on her face suggested consequences. The bodyguard behind him, the same man I saw in the meadow and in the market, was grinning smugly at Lucille's displeasure.
"Hi Derek," I said when he reached me. Derek removed the basket from my arm and held it while I placed in cut roses. "How do you like the manor?"
"It's great." He said.
"Derek," whined Lucille. She tugged at his arm. "Let's so see the orchard over there."
"Alright, once I help Ari pick the roses." Derek replied.
"But Derek." Lucille complained. "The sun is hot and it's ruining my fair complexion and I want to go inside."
"This won't take long."
"But the sun is so hot. I will die of a heat-stroke."
"Alright." Derek surrendered and allowed Lucille to drag him away. "Bye Ari!" He called.
"Bye Derek!" I said. I turned back to my chores, happy to see Derek, but dreading the scene Lucille would throw later.
True to my prediction, Lucille sought me out as soon as Derek's carriage left the manor. "ARI!" she screamed. "HOW DARE YOU STEAL MY BOYFRIEND!"
"I didn't steal him." I replied calmly.
"YES YOU DID! DON'T YOU LIE TO ME, YOU UNGRATEFUL WRETCH!"
"I didn't lie."
"YES YOU DID! STAY AWAY FROM HIM!"
"Well I didn't exactly seek him out."
"You lying scheming vixen! You're trying to beguile him!" Lucille screamed. I couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the irony. Lucille became enraged at this. "WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT? YOU WILL BE STARVED FOR THREE DAYS AND WILL BE FORCED TO DO ALL THE CHORES. THE OTHER SERVENTS WILL BE GIVEN THREE DAYS OFF!" Lucille stomped away. I could hear her screeching the rest of the day.
The punishment took effect the very next day. United in our hatred for Lucille, the other servants snuck me food and helped me with the chores when Lucille or Helga wasn't looking. Nevertheless, at the end of the three days, I was exhausted. Released from my chores the next morning out of pity and spite, I wandered outside. I strolled in to the stable, intending to find Togalo, but was distracted when I heard one of the horses neighing for me. I headed to Hotspur. Only four and a half years old and easily the most handsome of all the horses in the stable, Hotspur was the last foal of the placid mare which I first learned to ride on back when my parents were still alive. For this reason, and because he liked me most, I have more attraction to him than the other horses in the stable.
I approached the bay. He stretched his neck out to meet me and I stroked his nose. "Do you want to go for a ride?" I asked him softly. He neighed in reply. Far more intelligent than a horse should be, I'm sure Hotspur can understand me. I slipped into his stall and removed his saddle from where it hung on the walls of his cubicle. With deft fingers I placed the saddle on his back and secured the straps. Quietly, I led him out of his stall and out of the stable double doors. Outside, I mounted him and rode to the meadow where I first met Derek. Once there, I let Hotspur gallop to his heart's content. As I wheeled into the forest, I heard a cry for help. I stopped in my tracks.
"Help me!" I heard the voice scream again. I spun Hotspur around and we raced off towards the cry. As I hurried, I spotted a red fox pouncing on a bundle of brown fur that was crying piteously. All else forgotten, I dismounted quickly and hurried towards the fox, yelling loudly. The fox, hearing my footsteps and bellicose cries, bounded away. I picked up the bundle of muddy fur and examined it. It turned out to be a small kitten, female, that was battered and bruised and covered with caked blood. I grabbed the kitten, mounted Hotspur, and hurried home.
In the kitchen, I handed the kitten to Hanna. "The cat's fine." She announced after a through investigation. "It just needs a bath and some food. The wounds are shallow; they'll heal quickly, especially for a strong young cat like this one. There's so ointment in the medicine cabinet." Hanna gave the kitten a last caress and handed her to me. "I suspect she has fleas, too."
I thanked Hanna and carried the kitten up to my room. In a small tub of lukewarm water, I bathed the cat and cleaned her cuts. The cat turned out to be a snowy unblemished white, with floppy ears and the sweetest expression on her face. As I dipped the kitten for one last rinse, Hank flew in.
"So you brought home a stray." He said. He scrutinized the pup.
"What's wrong?" I asked, feeling uneasy as Hank stared at the kitten.
"Where did you get that cat?" He asked slowly.
"Over in the forest. Is that bad?" I was worried.
"Not necessarily. I'm probably just being over protective. Anyways, how is it?"
"Not bad, just bruised and starved." I held the kitten up to my face. "Maybe I'll call her Snow." The kitten made a face. "No? How about Blizzard?"
"Ewww." Said a squeaky voice.
"Did you say that?" I said to Hank. He shook his head.
"I did." The small voice said again.
I turned to Hank. "You heard that too, right." He nodded. "Is it you?" I looked at the kitten.
I half expected Hank to burst out laughing at my naiveness, but to my surprise, the kitten nodded. I screamed and dropped the cat in horror. I scrambled hastily away. The cat yelped and complained, "that hurt!"
Mouth agape, I stared at the cat. She cocked her head at me. "What?" She said, perplexed at odd behavior. She turned to Hank. "Hi, Uncle Hank." She said. To my astonishment, Hank did not seem surprised. He hopped over to the bird and asked, "You're one of Betelgeuse's daughters, right?"
"Yes." The cat replied proudly. "I am a child of peerless Betelgeuse and noble Altair and royal blood."
"I knew it!" cried Hank.
"Knew what?" I piped in.
"That this was a descendent of Betelgeuse." Hank explained. "Although how one of her children could reach her I don't know."
"I was sunning outside when a giant bird grabbed me. It tried to feed me to its chicks, but I bit it and the disgusting creature dropped me. It had dried blood caked on its talons and some of it got smeared on my fur! But luckily, I fell into a river, where the blood washed out before it could leave a scent. The river deposited me onto a muddy bank, and I wandered lost for days until I met that horrible fox in the forest."
As the kitten finished her story, Hank shook his head. "I always told Betelgeuse that she'd lose one of her puppies if she didn't take care of then correctly. And now it's happened."
"Who's Betelgeuse?" I asked.
"The most exquisite cat in my land. She could speak, like me and a select group of other animals, and she is known to be very lovely with peerless white fur, just like this pup's." Hank nudged the cat.
"My name is Beryl." The pup said resentfully.
"My mistake, Beryl." Apologized Hank with a mock bow. The cat smiled smugly. "Betelgeuse and her children are the prized cats of the king. She's used to the life of luxury, and thus is completely irresponsible when it comes to her children."
Indignant, Beryl opened her mouth to speak, but Hank interrupted her. "Ari, some of her bandages have come off."
As I adjusted the bandages that had been knocked askew by the fall, Beryl stretched out onto the floor as if reclining and held out the offending limb. She yawned, and then added, "I'm really hungry too," before closing her eyes.
Noticing her antics, Hank mouthed, "And I forgot to add that Betelgeuse and her children are extremely spoiled!"
Bandage fixed, I carried Beryl down to the kitchen to satisfy her hunger. On the way, I encountered Lucille.
"Ari—" Lucille paused when she noticed the pup. "Oh! What a pretty kitten. Give it to me!" Lucille held her hand out for Beryl. When I refused, she tried to snatch her from my grip. Beryl growled and tried to bite the offending hand. Horrified, Lucille snatched back her hand and caressed it, all while glaring at me. "Humph," she said and walked away, nose held high.
Feeling much more friendly towards Beryl, I continued my trip to the kitchen. There, Beryl was welcomed with the same enthusiasm. The maids both wanted to stroke Beryl's soft white fur and scratch her head. Even Hanna paused to feed her tidbits. Soon Beryl could been seen wandering in and out of the kitchen periodically, each time she was fed choice bits of meat and stroked. Yvette and Beth found ribbons which they tied around her neck and changed constantly. Beryl never soiled her ribbons, a feature which the girls coveted.
Later that day, I met Lucille, again with Beryl in my arms. This time, Lucille did not try to pet her, but sneered at her as if she was filth. Lucille was obviously still annoyed over her rejection and the cat's preference of me over her.
"The prince is coming over again next week." Lucille said. "I want you out. Gone. Out of my way. Is that clear?" Lucille glared at me with what she thought was an intimidating glare.
"Yes." I replied sweetly.
"And whatever that no good, four-legged scoundrel eats comes out of your meals." Lucille huffed and stalked away.
A/N: Yet another late installment. I realize its kind of late but . . . Happy Thanksgiving! Review, please.