II
Needlepoint class was much like it always was—the bane of Princess Sonny's existence. Nothing would make her believe that threads and bobbins were anything other than tools of torture.
She watched in dismay as her cousin Tawni, princess of the neighboring Glitzandglam kingdom, lifted her needle in effortless swaying motions—the picture of serenity. Light from the window formed a halo around her hair, making the gold-flecked tendrils glitter brightly.
"How do you do it, Tawn?"
Princess Tawni made an irritated face. "Do what?"
"Make it look so easy?"
She stuck her nose up a little higher in the air. "Natural ability."
Sonny shook her head, looking down at the heap of a mess she'd made. The yarn caught on her chair and when she went to release it, she undid the stitches that had taken her half the morning to pin. She made a loud grumbling noise to herself and when Princess Tawni looked over, Sonny brought out her secret weapon. The puppy dog face. It was a combination of pouty lips, doe eyes, and three quarter head-tilt.
Princess Tawni let out a resigned breath and set down her sewing. She glanced over at the teacher, to ensure he wasn't looking, and then scooted closer to her cousin. She took Sonny's fabric with a yanking motion and started fixing it for her.
Sonny smiled, a big toothy smile, and reached over to give her cousin a shoulder squeeze.
"Pah—Stop that! We've talked about this. Absolutely no hugging!"
"Right, right." Sonny smiled bigger, if that was possible. "I forget."
"Don't I know it," she responded, finishing up . "You know, you really should take this more seriously."
"I know, I know. I just got this lecture. 'Husbands want wives who can sew—blah blah blah.'"
Tawni almost scoffed, halting mid-stitch. "Needlepoint is not about securing a husband. It's about protecting yourself."
"What?" This was shocking news to Sonny. While Princess Sonny had few traits we might call faults—she did have the tendency to let her imagination run a little too far beyond the beaten path. She wondered if there was perhaps a secret code woven within women's tapestries. Ooh! Maybe they were all part of a feminist assassin's guild and the patterns were a kind of cipher… Sonny could have gone on and on trying to interpret her cousin's veiled allusion, but fortunately for us the real reason became clear soon enough.
"Don't you read the news bulletins, Sonny?"
Sonny didn't. Except for updates on locations of musical performances, juggling acts and puppet shows. Who doesn't love a good puppet show, right?
Tawni made a frustrated "Gah" sound. "You're so naïve sometimes. How are we related? Anyway, if you paid attention you'd know almost every other fortnight a royal maid dies from pricking herself on a needle."
"That's crazy talk. I don't believe you."
"I'm not joking. Look at this." Tawni pulled out a tattered piece of parchment with the embossed lettering of the royal press. Sonny scanned the headlines—
New Trend among Villains--Needle Violence;
King Orders Spinning Wheels Destroyed, Sewing Union Revolts;
Princess Touches Spindle, Brings on Sleeping Curse;
Snow White's Mother Pricks Finger, Dies;
"Huh." Sonny scrunched her face. "What an odd way to go."
Tawni didn't say anything, but raised her eyebrows in a look that said 'I'm-always-right. Don't-you-feel-silly-for-questioning-me? Of-course-you-do.' It was an expression she'd perfected.
Sonny put down the paper and sighed. "Well, I have a more immediate problem anyway."
Tawni feigned disinterest, but Sonny knew she was listening.
"My father's ready to marry me off. He's put out a bulletin for 'princely suitors.' Like I'm a fattened cow ready to be sold off and butchered. I'm not sure how to go about getting out of this one."
Normally, the two cousins were not ones to conspire together--let alone twice in one day. But there are some foes for which young princesses must resolutely unite against. And unwanted princes definitely topped the list.
The sewing instructor had finally awoken from his nap (before you judge him, readers, remember you might do the same if forced to teach needle-point four years in a row), and began circling around the drawing room—admiring (or, in some cases, wincing at) his pupils work. Princess Tawni had to be covert when she slipped Sonny a small business card. It had a skull and bones image on it. She flipped it over.
Zora's Apothecary
Meeting Your Potion-Related Needs*
901 Creepy Tower, Edge of the Glen
*Come at your own risk
Sonny was confused. "What's this for?"
"Let's just say, I think she can help you. And I don't mean with your needlework."
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Princess Sonny should probably have taken her cousin's advice right away. But it was easy for a young princess to get distracted. The morning glories smelled so wonderful today—she just had to pick a few. Look, how cute! A baby ladybug. Sonny crouched down to a half-sitting position and put the small tomato-red insect on her finger, admiring it. Such delicate features, such undemanding beauty. Why couldn't everything be so simple and nice?
Sonny was about to lie down on the ground and indulge herself in a nice little afternoon nap—when something suddenly whished by her. She spun her head towards the sound. A kind of narrow stick protruded from the dirt a few yards in front of her.
Before she could get up and look at it, loud cathumping noises approached. The horse and its rider cast a large gray shadow on the grass reeds.
Sonny stood up, sheltering her eyes from the sun, while the rider—a young boy—dismounted. Even through the sun's glare she could make out his form—slender and fit. He had a gentle face with cheeks pink from exertion. Now that he had come closer to her—she could tell he was worried.
"I'm so sorry, Princess. Are you all right?"
Sonny didn't know who he was. Should she? No, if they'd met before—she would've remembered. Look at those curls—a lovely warm chestnut color. Touchably soft, she suspected. Wait, had he asked her something? Work, brain. Work! "—Erm. Yes," she recovered, her voice a little higher than usual. "I'm fine. Thank you."
He looked visibly relieved. "I'm so glad," he said, directing her towards the stick in the ground. "Sir Gallant promises to be more careful where he takes his new students to practice."
"Right, of course."
The boy leaned forward and picked up the stick, which was actually an arrow. The pieces of the puzzle suddenly connecting for the princess.
"Are you taking archery lessons then?"
The boy smiled. "Not quite. I'm more of the archer's lackey. I fetch the arrows and return them to the knights." He said the words with a kind of melodic laughter in his voice. "But all apprentices have to start at the bottom, so I can't really complain."
The princess smiled, mostly because she wasn't sure what else to do. She had never considered herself one of those boy-crazy kinds of princesses. But now she realized she wasn't around a lot of boys. At least not the kind that looked like this one. She had to keep resisting the urge to twirl her fingers around one of his curly locks.
As if on cue, he ran his own hand through his hair—looking a little uncomfortable. Maybe she wasn't doing a very good job of hiding her newly discovered fetish. "Well," he said. "I should be going. Sir Gallant will be expecting his arrow back."
"Oh, okay."
He turned to go, looking suddenly reluctant to leave. It made Sonny smile.
He mounted his horse, which obediently hadn't strayed from the spot where he'd left it. Not even to munch on the flower beds. Before the boy rode off into the figurative sunset (it was still mid-day after all), the princess called out to him, her tongue (momentarily displaced) coming back to her now.
"Um—Boy."
He stopped. "Yes, your highness?"
"I didn't quite catch your name."
He smiled, an almost shy smile. "Nathaniel. Nate, really. Nate Gray."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Nate Gray. I hope to see you again. With or without the flying arrows." She stopped herself from batting her lashes.
She watched as he rode away, brown curls bobbing in the distance, to see if he'd turn and look back at her. He did.
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The next morning, light streamed through the palace window like a bright and happy laser, hitting the sleeping princess directly in the face. Sonny scrunched her nose and twisted around so that she was nose-first against her pillow.
Mornings in general were difficult for Sonny. Why bother to get up when dream-land had you perfectly content and your bed was so warm and cozy.
But today was a special day, or a dark and gloomy one depending how you looked at it, and Sonny would not be allowed to sleep in.
Her mother, the queen, approached the bed with a graceful stride befitting the best of royalty. "Sonny, dear. Time to wake up."
"Oh mama," Sonny complained, her voice groggly. "Just one more dream--I've almost got the pie."
"Sorry, baby. Not today." Queen Portlyn was a patient woman (she'd have to be, to marry King Grady), so she didn't even scold her daughter when she closed her eyes again. The queen just sat down on the silver-thread comforter (she'd made it for Sonny herself) and moved a strand of hair away from her daughter's face.
Sonny opened her eyes. "I have to get up, don't I?"
Queen Portlyn smiled. "I'm afraid so."
Sonny sat up and sighed. She let her feet hang off the edge of the bed for a moment before completely removing herself from the shelter of her lacy canopy.
Her mother pointed her to an egg-shell colored corset with violet lacing. Sonny climbed into it, tying the bow in front of her chest as quickly as other children might tie their shoe. She put on a dress, also violet, and sat down in front of her vanity. Queen Potrlyn took a small silver-backed hair brush and combed through her daughter's hair. Sonny closed her eyes.
"Mom?"
"Yes, dear."
"Do I really have to do this? Can't you explain to him that I don't want to line up a husband right now."
"He—we—only want what's best for you."
"How is this best for me?"
The Queen looked sad for a moment. It was rare for her to let people see anything beyond a pretence of peaceful tranquility. A young servant-girl knocked on the door, saving her from having to reply to her daughter's earnest gaze. The Queen was grateful.
"Sorry to interrupt, your majesties. But the princes will be arriving soon and King Grady would like you with him in the throne room."
Queen Portlyn pat her daughter on the shoulder, not meeting Sonny's eyes. "I'll meet you downstairs."
To be continued...
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Note: I know I promised suitors, and they're coming—Really! It's just that these little scenes insisted on being written first. Sorry if you're disappointed.
I know a lot of you are desperately waiting for Chad to appear. He's coming, don't worry. I'll try my best to make it worth your wait. If you want a teaser—he'll be my version of a kind of dark knight. Gotta keep it interesting, don't you think?
Special thanks to pyrolyn-776 for actively recruiting readers for this story. That was so sweet. I want to thank every single one of you for reviewing, and for giving me your suggestions and speculations. Those were very fun to read. I hope Money Seb andEmmybear ox are okay with my rendition of Nate from Camp Rock. I thought of you both when deciding to include him. As always I'm grateful for your feedback. So--please--review. ^_^