As the king's festival drew closer to hand, the Borg household was thrown into a flurry of excitement and activity, such that there was no rest for anyone, especially Pixal.
Amaryllis was swept up in the excitement of the coming days. She sent for the best tailors, cobblers, jewelry makers, and more, so they might flatter her daughters with their work. Over the days, each came in his or her own turn to their estate, laden with tools and materials. They practiced their crafts with ease, creating beautiful gowns for Begonia and Columbine, which matched gorgeous new shoes and lovely jewelry. Bedecked in beautiful fabrics and jewels in such number, the two of them paraded around with aloofness, as if they were simply "nice." To Pixal in particular, they flaunted all their finery, in hopes of making her envious.
Amaryllis encouraged her daughters to ask after Prince Zane as if they were royalty, using the prestige of the Borg name to make themselves worthy candidates of his affection. One of her daughters was bound to catch the prince's eye eventually, and she would spare no expense in achieving such a goal, if only to raise one of them to royalty.
As they prepared and pranced, Pixal went about her days with little concern for them, doing her best to ignore their antics as tamp down any envy. However, she too was thrown into a flurry of work, and the excitement seized her too. The work they created in their excitement was such that her books were soon to collect dust, and she was displeased with such a possibility, but her mind wandered to possible ways to enjoy the festival herself. With such a thought in mind, she worked as quickly as she could, using her ever-growing vocabulary of spells to help her whenever her family could not see her. Her clip in particular was used copiously, to do immense amounts of laundry and clean rooms in half the time it would have taken her.
Eventually, however, the excitement got the better of Pixal as well, and she began to dream about the festival in greater amound. Only a couple of days away, it was to be a three-day affair of enormous proportion, only one hour's travel from the Borg estate. It was rumored that there would be games and shopping, and that the prince himself would be participating in each day's jousting tournament. He would take the favor of some lady and parade it high, so all the kingdom might see that he had taken interest in a woman to be his princess. Pixal thought it sounded almost foolish, as the prince would likely take a favour from every possible candidate, but nevertheless her heart beat quickly at the thought.
The day before the first festival day, Pixal built up her courage and sought out Amaryllis in the estate's gardens.
"Stepmother?" she asked.
At the sound of her voice, Amaryllis turned to her and frowned in distaste. "What is it, Pixal? Why are you disturbing me?"
"I have a request." Pixal folded her hands and nestled them in the folds of her skirt, intent on appearing meek. "I would like to go to the festival with you."
Her stepmother looked her up and down, appraising and disdainful. "You want to go to the festival. Do you even have anything to wear?"
"I do."
"It is not rags, is it? You must try to have a little dignity, Pixal."
"I do not only wear rags!" Pixal protested. "I have a dress to wear."
Her stepmother looked unimpressed. "Very well, then. If you are to go to the festival with us, you must prove that you deserve to attend. I will not have some dirty servant girl parading the Borg name through the mud."
"How must I do that?" Pixal asked, trepidation making her stomach churn.
"As you go about your day, you must do it without being touched by a single speck of dust. No member of my household may embarrass me with a poor appearance. If you are at all dirty, you may not attend with us. Go, clean yourself up. If you cannot do that, you cannot go."
Pixal agreed and left her stepmother's presence quickly. When she could, she washed herself carefully, scouring the dirt from her fingernails and the dust from her hair. Then she donned her cleanest day dress and continued with her day. Unfortunately, as she worked, she encountered her sisters.
"Pixal, there you are! I need my necklace polished," Begonia simpered. "It has corroded, see? You must use your strongest, blackest polish." She put the dirty necklace into Pixal's hand.
"Pixal the maid makes herself known! What an opportune time," Columbine crowed. "I need you to clean my bedroom. It's filthy!" She shoved a dusty, dirty shift into Pixal's other hand.
Pixal sighed. "I cannot do these things today. I need to stay clean, or Stepmother will not bring me with to the festival."
"That sounds like a problem for you to handle," Columbine said.
"We could always tell Mother that you aren't doing any work at all," Begonia threatened.
"What would she think if she heard that? So selfish."
"You had better do it!"
Pixal sighed again, wishing to every power above that she was not put in this situation, but unable to protest. "Very well..."
So she went and did as they had told her. Her hands became blackened with polish, and she could not clean it away from under her fingernails. As she cleaned, she became covered in dust, which she was unable to completely sweep away. The evening approached, and she only grew ever dirtier, having no time to clean herself up before the next task that was thrown upon her by her stepsisters. Her hope diminished every hour, but finally she found a time to slip away in private, right before her stepmother was to inspect her.
In the washroom, Pixal took out her hairclip. She had saved its uses that day, in hopes that she could do this. She took a deep breath. "Salva me in opere… make me as clean as snow."
Within moments, the clip began to glow, and an apparition came forth from it. It cleaned her and her clothing, and when it was done, one would think she was royalty if not for her plain dress and hair. She examined herself in the looking glass and smiled. Surely her mother could not find fault in her magically clean looks. Though Amaryllis hated her, she could not deny her this.
When Amaryllis saw Pixal, she frowned deeply, and for a moment, Pixal thought she had done it. Amaryllis examined Pixal very closely, but found nothing, searching even the smallest things. When she was done, she shook her head. "I see that you were very careful. You are perfectly clean. However, since you are, you were no doubt also lazy, to be so untouched. A lazy girl cannot come with us to the festival– I would be shamed!"
Pixal stared at her in shock. "I was not lazy, Stepmother! I polished Begonia's necklace and I cleaned Columbine's room, plus all my usual chores! I did everything asked of me!"
"None of Begonia's necklaces needed polishing, Pixal. Even if you did, your hands would have been blackened! I see no polish on you." Amaryllis glared at her. "Furthermore, Columbine's room is always clean. If you had been told to clean it, would you not be covered in dust? You must not have done that either."
Pixal fumbled for an explanation. "I scrubbed my hands and changed my clothes, Stepmother. I was very careful!"
Her stepmother looked at her in unmasked exasperation. "I'm sure you did. You will not be coming with us. This conversation is over."
The next morning, Amaryllis, Begonia, and Columbine all left for the festival. Each was decked in finery– lovely dresses, jewelry, and shoes, each brand new. They laughed as they prepared, and the two sisters twirled and flounced their skirts, sure that they would catch some noble eye, if not the prince himself, and marry into riches and luxury. Both came to Pixal in turn and taunted her before piling into their carriage, jeering.
"It's such a shame you can't join us, Pixal. You could have met the prince!"
"Really, it truly is. I can't imagine how dreadfully boring it will be here, home alone."
"Meanwhile, we will be meeting Prince Zane and sweeping him off his feet."
"More like he will be sweeping me off mine!"
"He won't pay attention to you! I'll be his favorite!"
Still bickering, Begonia and Columbine climbed into the carriage. Amaryllis hung back for a moment, and Pixal's skin crawled. "Perhaps if you were more industrious, you could come," Amaryllis said lowly, and then she entered. Then they were off, and Pixal was left alone at the estate.
Pixal sighed as she watched them go. Deep in her heart, she knew there was no way they would have let her come, anyway. She would not be able to go with their knowledge or approval...however, she knew a way she might go to the festival without them. If she did, she might have some fun; she would be free for a day, would she not? With that dream in mind, she went back to her basement room.
When she arrived, she pried open the loose wall board and took out her purple dress and shoes, which she had received when her father gave her the clip. She donned them carefully, gingerly clasping the bodice around her stays. Just as she had hoped, they still fit her perfectly, and were in the same condition she had received them. Happily, she spun around, watching the skirt twirl out.
With her first difficulty solved, Pixal began to ponder the second. Her family would not notice if she did not clean for one day, but she had to be able to leave, or it was pointless. Thus, she needed a solution. As she pondered her situation, she wandered the estate. She passed by the road outside, and then an idea struck her.
Ten minutes later, with a spell tome in her hand, Pixal came back to the road. She opened the tome to a specific page, and then pulled some kitchen herbs from her pocket. She placed them on the ground and began to recite a spell from her book, carefully checking the pronunciation before she did so. "Ut me ad requireris...*"
Immediately, the herbs began to smoke green and blue, creating a plume that rose high into the sky. It sparkled with magical energy, glowing slightly. It seemed as if all else around it became slightly darker, but it did not trouble her. With a deep breath, Pixal closed her tome, pocketed the extra herbs, and walked into the column of smoke.
When Pixal next opened her eyes, the smoke was gone. She stood in a small clearing, behind some sort of stall. She took a few steps forward and looked around. Sure enough, she was at the festival! Her spell had worked!
She ran back to behind the stall and put the cloth over her book, nestling it in a little hollow with some more herbs. If it stayed hidden all day, she would be able to return easily. The festival was waiting for her, and she would spend all day, knowing her family would not return until long after nightfall.
Having set her course of action, Pixal turned to face the road. Her family may have denied her, but Pixal would be attending the festival despite them. For the first time in a very long time, she would have some time for fun on her own– freedom was hers for the day, and she could do whatever she wished, if she only knew where to start.
Latin for "take me to the festival."
Another spell appears! Pixal is ever the diligent scholar, despite her obligations. If only I had such motivation... *sigh* Alas, 'tis not to be. However, I wish every one of you readers the diligence of our favorite android lady in all your endeavors.
As of writing this author's note, no one has yet made any mention of the flower names' meanings, although several observant people have picked up on the names themselves! Those names are Pansy, Amaryllis, Begonia, and Columbine. For those that don't know, in the England during the Victorian period, every flower was given a meaning unto its own, often going into rigorous detail about color, patterning, and other details (even the number of leaves). I'd love to see if anyone is willing to take on the task of looking up the meanings of purple-and-white pansies, begonias, columbines, and amaryllises! Of course, that's optional.
Leave me a review if you like! I'd love to hear your thoughts.