A/N – Thanks for the reviews! School (aka hell) has been… well, hell. It's nuts – senior year is crazy! Ah! But anyway, here's a new – and long – chapter! What will Ginger do? Let's find out!
Oh and by the way, I'm trying to move the story away from being set in the clichéd "medieval" kingdom, which (hopefully) you'll see with this chapter. For one thing, there's plumbing! Woo! Think Renaissance meets 19th century.
Shout-outs:
naughty little munchkin: Yeah, I guess I, being the all-powerful and omnipotent author, thought that in the grand scheme of things, that first chapter didn't seem like much. Thanks, and I hope uni (that's so cool! I wish I wasn't American – we're no fun) isn't too much work so you can update your stories! YAY!
Tally: I'm so sorry! I am working on the next chapter of Lya, but it's just taking forever. If you ever have a hankering to edit, send me an e-mail!
Shameless plug!: WHITE ROSE HAS BEEN REVISED! It's, in my opinion, a lot better than the first draft, which was great but not as great as it could've been. So check it out – the story didn't change, but it's much meatier. (mmm meat)
Chapter 2
On the road to the palace, Ginger did everything to keep her spirits and her hopes high. She whistled as she thought of how to sway the king, but she couldn't cement any plans yet. She would have to meet him first and see what he was truly like.
As the sun set on the third day, and she neared the same inn where her father had stayed, her excitement began to clash with her anxiety. The king had said she was to be there ten days from when her father had left; it had now been eight. She paused by the inn, wondering whether or not she should surprise him by showing up at dusk on the eighth day. But then she looked down at her dress, which was dirty and mussed, and ran a hand through her hair, which was tangled and a mess. She chuckled; no, she was definitely not going to meet the king looking like such a wreck. So she left her horse with a stable boy and brought her things into the inn.
The next morning, Ginger awoke just as the dawn was breaking. She stood and stretched, her confidence rising with the sun. She hopped into the bath, whistling, trying not to think too hard about her plans. She changed into her best dress, and her hair dried wavy and lustrous; just perfect. She packed her things, ate some breakfast, paid the innkeeper, and then eagerly left for the city.
Ginger walked alongside her horse down the road to the palace. She hadn't really thought of how long the king may want her to stay… or what he would want her to do. Would he want her to sit in front of the entire court and spin gold? Or lock her in a tower and order her to spin loads and loads of straw? She pondered his plans and started to devise ways to counter them.
The narrow dirt road rose up a hill, and at the very top Ginger could finally see the palace and city. They lay together in a valley, flanked by two snow-capped mountains that no one ever dared to go near. The mountains were the kingdom's border, and past them was the kingdom of Parfalia, a country that the kingdom did not get along with very well. The city of Ende surrounded the palace, a tight, crowded city that was the home of thousands of citizens. The palace was built nearly onto the side of the eastern mountain, a glittering white marble building that could probably house the city folk far more comfortably than the city itself. Ginger sighed and began to walk the few leagues to the city border, passing through the last open farmland for miles and miles.
She was stopped at the city border, a thick stone wall that made its way all around the city to the mountains. She was asked to state her business and show her citizenship papers, which she didn't have.
"But sir," she said desperately to the guard, her eyes moist, "it's very important that I get into the city. My father is dying," she said with a fake sob. "I left so quickly to get medicine that I forgot my papers. Please, sir."
The guard sighed and tried to comfort her. "It's alright, miss. You may pass."
"Oh, thank you, sir, thank you," she effused. She hurried through the gate with her horse and pretended to rush down a street until she was out of the guard's eye. She slowed down and smiled; an excellent warm-up. She paused for a moment and looked around; people were rushing by her, throwing her annoyed looks as she stood still in the middle of a narrow cobblestone alley. Rows of homes stretched along the street, some with laundry hanging out the window or pies cooling on the window sill. Ginger began to walk toward the palace, still staring around in wonder. She had never been to the city before. Indeed, she had never left her county, which was naught but farms and mills. The people in the city moved faster and always seemed to be in a hurry. Carriages rattled down the roads, scattering people to the sides. Shops were busy with customers, and every so often an open square was occupied by a market. It was barely seven o'clock in the morning, but men were scurrying to work and women were rushing children to school. Ginger stopped to gawk; she had never gone to a proper school, but instead had been taught for a few years by a local woman who had once been a governess for a wealthy family. Ginger suddenly sharply felt the difference between the city people and herself. They were clearly much wealthier, and they weren't even the wealthiest in the kingdom. But she had bigger things to worry about, and so she shrugged and hurried along, eager to get to the palace.
She finally arrived at the wrought iron gates, where another guard asked her to state her business with the king.
"I received a summons," she answered.
"Your name?" the guard asked, pulling out a leaf of paper.
"Ginger, from Tivilla. The miller's daughter?" she said, wondering just what her father had told the king.
"Ah, of course," the guard said, not even bothering to check the paper. "Go through the front hall and tell the guards you're here. He'll want to see you in private."
Ginger's stomach clenched against her will, but she nodded and thanked him. The gates opened, and Ginger escaped the stuffy, congested street and walked up the stone path toward the doors. The path was lined with gorgeous gardens, and Ginger wondered for the millionth time just what sort of man the king was like. A servant came to take her horse and satchel, assuring her it would reach a safe place. She walked up the steps to the front doors, which were easily thirty feet tall and made of white marble. The two guards nodded to her and then pushed open the doors, which, to Ginger, seemed like no small feat.
Almost all thoughts of the king flew away as Ginger stepped into the majestic front hall. Arching her neck, she gaped at the high ceiling, which was painted with heavenly scenes and from which hung a sparkling chandelier. On the walls hung paintings of past and present monarchs, and the floor itself was edged in gold. A grand staircase sprawled out in front of her, and to either side she could see carpeted hallways leading to even more glorious rooms. But her amazement was cut short when two more guards, standing at the staircase, came forward and asked her name.
"Ginger, the miller's daughter," she said, following the previous guard's instruction. The two nodded to each other.
"Follow us, miss," one said. She nodded and reluctantly followed them out of the hall, going down a hallway to the right. Passing by doors that were just begging to be opened, Ginger was getting antsy to forget the king and explore the palace. But the corridor finally opened into the throne room, and Ginger was awestruck once again. The blue-tiled floor matched the sky outside, which could be seen through the giant window that served as the southern wall. The throne sat high on a dais in front of the window, the sun creating a sort of halo around the seat. Statues lined the other walls, depicting kings and queens since the birth of the kingdom. Brightly colored tapestries hung on the walls, bouncing light off of golden candelabras that were fixed to the walls.
The guards snapped their fingers, and two more guards that stood at the bottom of the dais sprang to life and walked forward. They all saluted, and then the two new ones inclined their heads to Ginger. Ginger, although not expecting such a courteous welcome, was warming up to it rather quickly.
"Miss, the king will be with you shortly," one of them said, and then gestured to indicate that she could look about the room. She smiled and thanked them, as the first two returned to the hall and the other two returned to the dais. Ginger happily walked around the room, inspecting the statues, examining the tapestries, and then walking behind the throne to look out the mammoth window. The window faced out onto the palace's limited but magnificent open space, filled with gardens and some open field. Beyond that lay the city, and beyond the city lay the dark forest that filled the gap between the two mountains.
"Do you like it?"
Surprised, Ginger hopped around to see the king. She instantly smiled and delved into a curtsy.
"Very much, your majesty," she said, rising. She looked him over quickly; he was probably twenty years her senior, his hair streaked with distinguished gray. But other than his hair, he looked very strong and youthful. His face wasn't all that handsome, but his eyes were clever and intelligent. His chiseled features regarded Ginger with a sly interest, and he smiled.
"Ginger, I've been looking forward to meeting you. You're father told me much about you," he said, and she noticed the deceptive kindness in his voice. "I hope traveling here wasn't too much trouble."
"Not at all, your majesty. I was happy to come," she said smoothly.
He smiled again. "Please, let us sit," he said, offering her his arm. She smiled and took it, allowing him to guide her to two chairs set up at the base of the dais. She sat down as he gestured the two guards away. He then sat down as well, first removing his belt, from which hung his sword. He wore velvet black britches, with only a white shirt and vest on top. He noticed her eyeing his wardrobe.
"I apologize for not looking more kingly," he said with a chuckle. "I went hunting this morning."
"You must get up early, your majesty," she noted. "They say the most intelligent people awake at dawn," she continued, knowing flattery would work well.
He laughed. "When I was young, my father always woke me at dawn. It is a habit."
She smiled.
"I'm sorry for making you leave home," he said; Ginger smiled again at the blatant lie.
"It was nothing. I've always wanted to see the city."
"Your father was an excellent negotiator. But when he happened to mention your fascinating ability, I just had to see it for myself."
"Of course, your majesty."
"I'd like you to stay in the palace for awhile. I've been hoping to revive the textiles industry for quite some time, and you might be just the trick."
She nearly laughed, but settled on a grateful smile. "Well, thank you, your majesty."
He nodded, his eyes not quite matching his smile. He stood and indicated that she should, as well.
"I'd like to show you something," he said. "Follow me."
He began to walk toward what looked like solid wall. Ginger followed, happy to have made such a good impression on the devious king. He stopped near a statue of his own father, and squeezed its hand. Suspicious, Ginger watched closely, but the wall suddenly shuddered, and a door appeared, opening to reveal another hall. Two more guards stood along the wall, but saluted as the king appeared, who gestured that they should follow. Ginger trotted a little behind the king, wondering whether her flattery had been enough to secure the safety of telling him the truth. Somehow, she doubted it. She would just have to think of something to prolong the time until she would have to "demonstrate" her ability.
The corridor ended at two wooden doors. The king snapped his fingers, and one of the guards quickly handed him a ring of keys. Carefully selecting one, the king placed the key in the right door and opened it. Ginger stepped inside a lovely bedchamber, with a large canopy bed and bay window.
"Your room, while you stay here," the king said.
"Thank you, your majesty," she said, examining the washroom and closet. But next to the wardrobe was another door, and Ginger raised an eyebrow.
"What is this?" she asked.
The king smiled subtly. "I'll show you." He took another key and fitted it to the door. It opened, and Ginger's jaw fell. The door had opened into another room, the same size as her bedchamber. Except it was filled with straw. Piles and piles of straw. In the middle sat a spinning wheel and stool, but it was surrounded by mounds of straw. The look in the king's eyes suddenly turned greedy and triumphant.
"Tonight I want you to spin all this straw into gold by morning," he said as Ginger walked around the room.
This was it, she decided. She quickly hid her apprehension and turned to the king.
"I'd like two days, if you don't mind, your majesty," she said boldly.
The king looked startled. "Two days?"
She nodded. "I suppose my father told you I like to spin at night, but I don't spin all night, your majesty. I need rest so that I can concentrate. And with this much straw, I'll really need to rest. Otherwise it comes out rather dull, and I'm sure you don't want that."
The king locked his jaw. Ginger knew he was too greedy to just have her head for talking back; he wanted that gold.
"What if you work during the day?" he offered, his voice acquiring an edge.
She shook her head. "The sun is too bright, I can't see the gold as well, your majesty."
"Then begin at dusk," he said.
She smiled; this wasn't bargaining. This was war.
"I'm sorry, your majesty, but it must be dark. I've only ever spun gold in the dark. I've never been able to before nightfall."
The king finally gave in. Ginger had won.
"Fine. Two nights to spin this entire room. But it must be done. That's an order," he said as forcefully as he could.
She nodded. "Of course, your majesty," she said sweetly, curtsying.
He began to walk away.
"Wait, your majesty!" she called, leaving the straw room.
"Yes?" he asked shortly.
"What shall I do during the day?" she asked.
He looked her up and down. "I'll have someone give you some proper clothing," he said, all pretend kindness gone. "Then you may go to court or the city." He paused. "But at night, you will be locked into this room, understand?"
"Yes, your majesty."
He then left the room with his guards, slamming the door behind him.
The moment he was gone, Ginger jumped happily and sprung onto the bed. Sure, she hadn't exactly won yet, but she had bought herself time. She wasn't foolish enough to think she could escape; by now, the king must have told every guard in the city to watch her carefully. But she had two days to think of a plan, and for Ginger, that was plenty of time.
A few minutes later, after Ginger had unpacked her things, three ladies came into the room, each carrying a pile of dresses. Ginger's jaw fell; the dresses were made of satin, silk, organza, and other fabrics that Ginger had never even felt before. The ladies left the dresses on her bed and promptly left without a word. Ginger picked up one of the dresses and giddily twirled it around. She hurried into the washroom, eager to take a bath and try on her new gowns.
But she took her time in the elegant bathroom, for she had never seen such a room. Her new surroundings perplexed her; she never knew that people put such care and attention into something so trivial as their bathroom. But she liked it, the soft, calming cream walls, the copper faucets on the sink and bathtub, the velvety towels. She turned on the hot water and playfully added some scented oils, taking advantage of all the wealth around her.
After her bath, she happily tried on the gowns, loving each one more than the one before. Finally keeping on a blue, calf length dress with a sash, she took her small change purse and left the room. Being sure to remember where it was, she walked down the hall to the throne room, which, to her surprise, was full to the brim with peasants not unlike herself. Lines of them filled the hall, where they stood apparently waiting to tell a guard their business, who would then either direct them to the king, or send them to the door. Ginger wondered whether it had been like this when her father had come to see the king, who was sitting on his throne high above them all. He suddenly saw her, and looking worried, beckoned for her to come to the throne. She picked her way through the myriad of lines, and hurried up the dais.
"Yes, your majesty?" she asked, curtsying.
"Where are you going this afternoon?" he asked.
"I thought I'd look around the city, your majesty," she answered.
He nodded. "Come to dinner at five, and then you are to be in your room."
"Yes, your majesty. And thank you for the clothes, sire," she said graciously.
He nodded, but then turned his attention elsewhere. Ginger hastened back down the stairs, and then left the hall for the hallway to the grand entrance. Stepping outside the front doors, she paused on the veranda to shade her eyes against the sun and look out on the city. It had calmed down since the morning – it was now midday – but people still walked the streets, going about their routines.
Ginger went down the steps to the gate, which was opened for her as she stepped out onto the cobblestone street. A carriage suddenly whizzed by, causing her to leap back and a guard to chuckle.
"Watch out," he said. "Those carriages are dangerous."
She smiled shakily and tried again. She left the gates and walked to the left, where she could either walk down a small hill or make a turn. She turned, and found herself on a street lined with shops of all sorts. Feeling slightly overwhelmed but completely adventurous, Ginger went in and out of nearly every shop, never buying anything (the prices were rather excessive, in her opinion) but looking at dresses, hats, jewelry, furniture, anything she could think of. On the street, she passed women followed by servants carrying dozens of shopping bags. Nearly everyone she saw was well-dressed and chic, coming in and out of their town houses or leather-lined carriages. She felt innately out of place, even in her fine dress, but peculiarly, she didn't feel homesick. Of course she missed her father; she thought of him as she passed a bakery. But the city was exciting, and so much more sophisticated and advanced than the villages in her county.
Ginger was pondering this when she stumbled across the kingdom's only university, where they taught art, literature, music, science… all sorts of things. Ginger stopped by the entrance longingly, suddenly feeling very jealous and wondering what it was like to have the opportunity to go there. She had to be just as intelligent as any of these students, right?
She stood outside the gated group of buildings, longing to go in. She looked at the clock on the side of a building; it only said three o'clock. She had two hours before she was supposed to be back for dinner. Deciding just to look around, she pushed open the unlocked gates and walked in.
The university was a small estate of about four buildings and areas with trees and grass, where some students sat on benches or on the lawns reading and writing. Ginger walked to a charming brick building with ivy growing up its sides. She walked up the small stairs leading to the black door, and trying to appear natural, walked in.
She had stepped into a carpeted hallway lined with doors. Along the walls were paintings of deans and monarchs, and Ginger could hear lively classes taking place inside the rooms. At the end of the hall was a spiral staircase, and Ginger walked up to the next floor, which looked exactly the same as the first. Except halfway down this hall was a group of students, apparently waiting for a class to begin. Ginger excitedly walked up to them and tried to blend in, catching snippets of their conversation. To her disappointment, however, the class was ending instead of beginning, and the students began to drift away in groups. As she continued down the hall, though, her excitement returned. A door stood open at the last classroom in the corridor, and it led into a large lecture hall. Ginger slipped in unnoticed and sat in the back.
A male professor, wearing black britches, a shirt, and an open vest, was debating with a student, and after a moment Ginger caught on that it was about the king and his policies on – what else – mills.
"Do you agree, sir, that flour is a vital export for this kingdom?" the professor was saying.
"Yes, but there are too many mills, which will eventually cause inflation."
"Yes, but at the moment, one mill is producing not nearly half as much as it should. On the contrary, it's going to cause the prices of flour to plummet," Ginger suddenly found herself saying.
Everyone in the class turned to look at her. She blushed, but didn't shirk. The professor smiled.
"Well said. And very true. What the king has been hiding is that mills aren't producing what's needed to even supply this kingdom, let alone export it."
Ginger's jaw dropped again. She could just hear her father screaming "treason!" in her head. She was amazed that no one else seemed to care in the slightest that the professor was frankly calling the king a liar. Like a slap in the face, she again felt enormously overwhelmed, and although part of her longed to stay, she had to go somewhere and clear her head.
She left the university and walked back to the castle, where the guards recognized her and let her in without questions. Not knowing any other way to her room, she walked back through the crowded throne room and pressed the statue's hand, just like the king had. Sure enough, the wall sprang back and she hurried down the corridor to her room.
Falling back onto her bed, Ginger felt dizzy from her brand new surroundings. It was such a radical change that she wasn't sure what to think quite yet. On one hand, she missed the simplicity and plainness of her cottage and village. But the city was amazing, and Ginger felt more alive here than she'd ever felt back at home. It was just so much to take in at one time…
After resting awhile, Ginger was startled to hear the clock strike quarter to five. She leapt from the bed and hurriedly changed into a finer gown and left the room, hoping to find a guard who could direct her to the dining hall. When she found the hallway empty, she walked to the throne room, which was also empty except for two guards by the door. She rushed over to them.
"Pardon me, but where is the dining hall?" she asked.
"Go into the entrance hall, go up the stairs and make a right," one answered.
She thanked them, and then scurried to the entrance hall and dashed up the stairs. She approached the hall at five to five; just on time. The dining hall looked much different than the rest of the castle; everything seemed to be made of dark wood. Wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, the mantelpieces were ornately carved out of oak, and the table itself was made of a deep mahogany. The room was filled with courtiers, none of whom took any notice of Ginger. She didn't mind. She was enjoying just examining the room, when the trumpets sounded and the king came in. Everyone immediately went to the table, obviously already knowing their seat. Ginger panicked and tried to move quickly to find the only empty seat, which was all the way at the other end of the table from the king.
Ginger was ignored throughout the elaborate meal, and she took the opportunity to listen to the courtiers' conversations, most of which were mere gossip. She ate quietly, and when everyone stood after dessert and went about their rounds, Ginger was approached by two guards.
"Miss, the king requests that you retire to your room," one said politely.
Ginger looked out the window and saw that it was, indeed, nightfall. She nodded and followed them to her room. Once inside, however, they closed the door behind her and she heard it lock.
And so Ginger began her first night as the king's prisoner.