Aerin wiped sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. She reached over to help her opponent up.
"Well done, princess," Master Cressen said, brushing dust off his pants. "Improve any more, and you'll have to find yourself a new instructor."
Aerin laughed. "I doubt that. You're one of the best."
"And you've bested me twice now. What does that say about you?"
"It says little about me, and much about you. You're willing to let me win so I think I'm good. Now try me again, but this time don't hold back," Aerin replied. Princess she might be, but she hated being treated as such.
The weapons master shook his head. "I don't know how you can tell these things," he said.
"It's easy. I left you an opening and you didn't take it. Five times. Don't hold back this time."
The clang of swords echoed through the branches above as the two began dueling again. Aerin's mind went silent, as it always did when she was dueling, as she her thoughts disappeared in the flow of movement. The sword,her arms, her body, her opponent. That was all there was in the world, all that mattered. She loved nothing more than quieting her thoughts this way.
At last she slipped up. Her ankle gave, she stumbled, and before she could blink she was on her back on the ground, Master Cressen's sword at her throat.
"Yield," she said unnecessarily, springing to her feet as he backed away. She noticed then that her arms felt like noodles and sweat was dripping down her back. "I shall call that an end to our lesson, Master Cressen, if I may. Thank you."
He bowed low, his eyes smiling. He knew as well as she that her courtesy was only habit, that she would have liked nothing more than to yell "goodbye" over her shoulder as she disappeared. But instead she went into the armory, sat and polished her sword, and put it away before she climbed the huge branches that comprised the wall and slipped out into the city.
Isabella looked around in wonder at Speroa's capital. She had heard tell of it, even seen drawings in books, but nothing compared to the reality. From her vantage point far below on the forest floor, she could see little more than the wooden bridges that connected hundreds, if not thousands, of trees, but the faint noises of a city at least the size of Kellineton drifted down from the leaf-shrouded metropolis above her.
The road at ground level was crowded with caravans waiting for admittance into the city. If she craned her neck enough, Isabella could see a wide wooden stairway winding around the gigantic tree before her. Its highest steps disappeared into the leaves well above her head, and she swallowed nervously. Surely they didn't expect her to climb that?
Gavin squeezed her hand. "It's safe," he said, reading her thoughts. "They wouldn't let anyone go up it if it weren't. And I'll be right beside you the entire time."
Nell popped up beside them, back from visiting one of her numerous new friends in the long line. "The man in front a' us's been 'ere before. 'E says the tree's near ten yards across, so big th'inside's gone 'ollow. Tha's where the lift is."
"The lift?" Isabella asked hopefully. A lift up the inside of the tree couldn't be nearly as bad as clambering up the outside.
"Only fer wagons," a gruff voice joined in. Isabella didn't have to look to recognize it as belonging to one of the men LeRoi had provided them as escort to the capital, a man named Griff. While he didn't exactly seem pleased to be guiding two errant nobles and their peasant friend through Speroa's vast forest, he did like sharing his extensive knowledge thereof. After two weeks' journey across the country, Isabella knew more about the trees, herbs, animals, and climate of Speroa than she had ever hoped to learn. "The traders bring their wagons onta the lift, then climb the stairs themselves. By the time they get to the top, their goods is waitin' fer 'em."
"How do they lift something so heavy?" Even Gavin was fascinated by the logistics of the city.
Griff shrugged. "No one's allowed ta see the workins but them as runs it. Rumor has it it's done by a pair a' giants."
"There ain't no such thing as giants!" Nell protested.
Griff shrugged again. "I'm jus' tellin' ya what I know."
He turned back to his fellow bandit, ignoring the trio once more.
"Gods, I'd like t'see a giant," Nell breathed. "D'ya think 'e was tellin' the truth abou' that?"
Gavin snorted. "You were right the first time. There's no such thing as giants. He was just mocking us."
Isabella shivered, trying to imagine what a giant would look like. One of her books had had a picture of a huge, blue-skinned creature with long hairy arms and thick blunt teeth that it used to rip off people's heads. Had that been a giant, or an ogre? She couldn't remember, which did little to help her nerves.
At last their turn came. "State your business," one of the burly guards said.
Griff pushed forward and interceded. "These three are under LeRoi's protection," he said. "They will do no harm to your city."
The man frowned, but nodded, leaving Isabella to wonder exactly how LeRoi had acquired so much power among Speroa's citizens. His camp certainly hadn't been that impressive. But his authority worked, and she, Gavin, and Nell bid farewell to their escort and began to climb the stairs into the capital.
It wasn't as difficult as Isabella had anticipated. The stairs, though completely without rails, were wide and shallow enough that she didn't fear falling, at least when she was close to the trunk of the mighty tree. Luckily, the wind barely reached this low beneath the trees, so she didn't have that to contend with, but she still made gavin walk on the outer side.
Nell, meanwhile, scampered up the stairs like some sort of squirrel. She had no fear of falling, ti seemed, or if she did it was completely cowed by her lust for adventure. She called back down to them frequently, mocking them for how slowly they were moving.
"If it was up t'you two, we'd never see the city," she laughed.
Isabella frowned, though Gavin laughed back.
"It's not funny. She could break her neck, running the way she is," Isabella reproached him.
"She won't Come on, dear, she's right. We'll never reach the top at this rate."
Isabella sped up for Gavin's sake, though she continued casting furtive glances toward the edge of the stairwell. If she had to go fast, she could at least go safely.
To Isabella's relief, they reached the top within an hour. She was slightly out of breath, but it wasn't just the climb that had winded her. It was the marvelous city she saw before her. Speroa's capital was more wondrous than she had ever dreamed. Tall, leafy branches shaded the main square, where they now stood. Had it not been for the trek up the side of a giant tree, Isabella would hardly have believed they weren't on the ground. Merchant stalls ringed the square, at the center of which was a polished wooden statue of what Isabella could only assume was the king, Ethelaine. Her long hair flowed down her back, accenting the defiant look in her eye, her spear tipped with gold. The sculptor had been brilliant, Isabella decided. If the true king was anywhere near as majestic as her likeness in the square, she would be nervous to go before her, even with so innocent a request as permission to wed.
"C'mon, you two, ye're missin' everythin'!" Nell called, running over to them. She had already made a new friend, a jar vendor who waved cheerily at the girl as she went. "The castle's over there. It's th'most crazy thing I've ever seen!"
Caught up in the girl's excitement, Isabella smiled and followed her lead, dragging Gavin behind her. The streets were teeming with people. There had to be thousands living up here, suspended among the trees. How did the forest support so much weight? How did they burn fires to cook food? Where did their water come from? How did they keep from falling off the railless platforms? Hardly had she had any time to consider these questions when the castle rose up before her.
It was magnificent. As finely architected as any building in Kellineton— more so, even— it sprawled among the branches of three trees. Whoever had designed the building had been a genius; Isabella could hardly tell where the tree ended and the palace began. Bright flowers poured from the windows, banners and streamers waved softly in the gentle breeze, and the wood of the walls was intricately carved to tell the entire history of Speroa. Though she had seen little enough Idaarolaan carving, she recognized its style and wondered how a country like Speroa, which was nowhere near as wealthy as Kelline, could afford such luxury.
"Princess!" a voice called from behind her. Isabella ignored the voice as it got closer; no one would recognize her here, and if they did it would be easiest if she simply feigned ignorance. But when a hand grabbed her shoulder and whirled her around, she couldn't help a spike of fear.
"Princess, what are you doing out here? Your parents are insane with worry," the man said. He had the look of someone who feared more the punishment he would receive if the princess were harmed than for the princess' safety. He was too old to be an overzealous guard, so she supposed he must be some sort of nurse.
She opened her mouth to speak, but not before Gavin stepped between them, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Leave the lady alone, sir. She's not who you're looking for."
"Who is this, princess? Another foundling friend? Won't your mother be pleased."
Gavin scowled, but before he could speak, Isabella placed a calming hand on his arm. "I'm afraid you have the wrong person. My name is isabella, and I am no princess, though I do most sincerely hope you find yours. You must forgive my companion. He's a bit…rash at times."
"This is no time for your games, princess! Your suitors are waiting for you at tea, the queen is convinced you've been murdered, and—"
"Hey! Leave her be, you old fussbucket. It's me you want," said another girl, jumping between them. Isabella barely restrained a gasp. She hadn't seen herself in a mirror for several weeks, but she had no doubt the girl wore the same face as her reflection. Her red-gold hair was loosely confined in a braid, and her eyes sparkled in a way that reminded her of Nell when she got excited. Who on earth was this?
"Princess! Oh, excuse me, miss, I must apologize for having assailed you so. You two look so exactly alike."
The other girl turned her attention to Isabella and let out a low whistle. "He's right, we are identical. What's your name?"
Isabella drew herself up straight. If this was the princess, she was the key to an audience with the king. It was time to let someone else know her true identity. "My name is Isabella Ivonson, daughter of Prince Frederich and Princess Hélène of Kelline and granddaughter of King Yurick. I demand an audience with the queen."
The girl blinked, shocked. "You're joking," she said. "Another princess, here? Who looks just like me? If it were anyone but you, Hobbes, I'd think it a prank."
The man, who Isabella thought must be Hobbes, flushed. "No prank, princess. I'm as surprised as you are. Provided she's telling the truth."
"Of course she is!" Nell chimed in. "Isabella's as noble as they come!"
"If you're looking for more reliable testimony as to the lady's identity," Gavin said, shooting a scornful glance at the peasant girl, "I am a knight of the court, Sir Gavin Handley, and I will attest to the truth of her story."
"Tell Ethelaine and Priss I'll be there when I get there," the princess said to Hobbes. "If they question you, say I wouldn't be doing it if it weren't important."
"As the princess commands," the other man said with a bow before disappearing into the crowd heading through the palace gates.
"We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Aerin," the princess said, giving Isabella a mock curtsy. "Princess of Speroa and all that, though really I'd rather just be normal. Priss is so overprotective, and even Ethelaine can't help herself sometimes. If I mention anything about the sort of mess she used to get herself into, she just shakes her head and tells me that was a different time. She doesn't remember what it's like."
"Um," Isabella replied, quite unsure how to respond to Aerin's seemingly boundless energy. "My name is Isabella, and this is Gavin and Nell. We're here to seek an audience with your…with the king."
"And you're really the princess of Kelline?"
Isabella opened her mouth to explain about lineage and inheritance, but thought better of it and merely nodded.
"What are you doing here, of all places? And without a huge escort? Did your parents let you come like this?"
"We sort of ran away. Gavin and I want to get married, but my parents want me to marry someone else. So we came here. Kelline and Speroa have always been allies, and my father and your…the king are friends. We thought if anyone understood marrying for love, your….King Ethelaine would."
Aerin laughed. "My mother. You can say it. It's not wrong, though she never gave birth to me. She and Priss adopted me when I was a baby."
"I didn't want to offend—"
"No worries. You're hardly the first. Every time there's a new diplomat it's the same thing: a few weeks of stammering and blushing until finally someone tells him to just call them Priscilla and Ethelaine. It's like they've never seen anything like it."
"They haven't."
"It's been over thirty years my parents have been married. They should be used to it by now."
Isabella changed the subject, sensing Aerin was upset. "You don't know who your actual parents are? The ones who gave birth to you?"
Aerin shook her head. "I never wondered about it until just now. But I'm thinking— how old are you?"
Isabella crinkled her brow at the question. "Fifteen. Until my birthday, which is…" It had been so long, she'd lost track of time.
"Next week?"
"I guess so."
"Mine too! And we look exactly alike, and we're the same age…we must be twins!"
"Twins?" Isabella wasn't a twin. Twins were cursed, everyone knew: one soul split between two bodies, making both vulnerable to demons. None had appeared in noble families for nearly a century, at least that anyone admitted, but among peasants the younger, weaker twin was abandoned to starve after birth. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before a set of twins went evil. Why else would one so often be born dead and one alive? They weren't meant to exist.
"Of course! It all makes sense! Kellineans think twins are evil, so when the crown prince's wife gives birth to them…and his close friend can't have children…they must have secreted me out of the castle and all the way here!"
"That's an awful lot of conclusions to be drawing," Gavin said, shocked out of his silence by the accusation that his betrothed was a twin. His hand, Isabella noticed, had drifted back to the hilt of his sword.
"Oh, come off it. I can take you. I bet you're not even a real knight."
Gavin flushed and looked away without responding.
"Besides, twins aren't evil, any more than anyone else is. It's just a silly superstition, like redheads being hot-tempered. You're not hot-tempered, are you?" Isabella shook her head. "I thought not. You don't seem the type. Oh, we must tell Priss and Ethelaine. They'll be thrilled!"
Sometimes I set a deadline for myself and then I forget I did so. Whoops.
Awkward character introduction is awkward. Again, written during NaNo last year and unedited. So yeah.
Review maybe?