Clarissa, Crown Princess of the Kingdom of Brethonia, was not the biggest fan of parties. Too many drunk noblemen convinced that they were the Divine’s gift to all women. Too many social niceties that she had to keep track of for diplomatic reasons. And far too few excuses for her to avoid wearing a corset.
But, there were certain occasions when she simply couldn’t avoid attending a party. The celebration of an armistice with the Kingdom of Wethage was the sort of event the Crown Princess was expected to attend. If for no other reason than to reinforce the fiction that there were no lingering grudges between their people.
So, Princess Clarissa was clad in her elegant red silks and posture-stiffening corset. She sipped at her wine and did her best to pretend that she didn’t feel a growing urge to throw the Wethagian delegation out of a window. At the moment, Duke Siegfried of Hermage, a Wethagian general, was droning on in her ear. Something about horse breeding? She hadn’t really been paying attention.
“I suppose I can show you the mare when I return from campaigning,” he said.
Clarissa was suddenly much more interested in what he was saying. “Campaigning?” she asked, careful to keep her voice consistent with her established tone of vague polite interest.
“We are riding north into the mountains,” the Duke explained. “Going to deal with those dragon-riding barbarians.”
“I wish you luck,” Clarissa lied.
“Thank you,” he said obliviously. “Their leader is quite the fearsome brute. A towering hulk of a figure, though dwarfed by the terrifying red dragon he is always astride.”
Clarissa did her best not to preen and simply said, “Sounds dangerous.”
“It is, but it must be done. You should reinforce your own borders,” he advised. “Our assault may drive some of their stragglers into your lands.”
“You should speak with my father on that matter,” Clarissa said while feigning an airy distraction. “I don’t know much about military matters.”
“Maybe when I return from wiping them out, you and I can continue negotiating a friendly settlement to our minor border dispute,” he said with an attempt at a suave smile.
Clarissa did not see his smile. At the words “minor border dispute” her mind flashed to memories. The searing heat of a village as it burned. The acrid smell of rotting bodies as they lay piled in the fields. The gurgling cry of a young boy calling for his mother while bleeding to death. Clarissa’s desire to throw the Duke out of a window intensified.
However, her diplomatic training was victorious over her instincts. As much as she hated the way he was so dismissive of the war between their countries, she simply gave a bland smile and said, “of course.” With a polite farewell, she stepped away from the Duke and mingled back into the crowd.
Clarissa quickly downed the rest of her wine and handed the goblet off to a servant. It wouldn’t do for her to accidentally crush perfectly innocent silver in her anger. Her search for something to distract her was only partially successful; She happened upon Vanessa, one of her handmaidens, trapped between a table and a knight’s ego.
Sir George was rambling on about how he had bravely defended Castle Belanglos during the war. Clarissa could only roll her eyes. If she recalled correctly, Castle Belanglos was little more than a supply camp with a dozen men and some palisades protecting it from raiders. The latest intelligence report that she had seen said that no Wethagian troops ever got within a 2 day march of the place.
The princess considered embarrassing the knight by asking more pointed questions about the mudhole he had garrisoned when something gave her pause. Vanessa held her hands carefully clasped behind her back out of the knight’s sight. There, her fingernails were slowly elongating into talons and scarlet scales crept their way across her hands to disappear into the deep maroon folds of her sleeves.
“Excuse me, good knight,” Clarissa interrupted. “I’m afraid I must steal my handmaiden away to aid me with some… womanly matters.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” they both responded. Sir George looked a bit disappointed but did not protest. Vanessa, however, eagerly shot to Clarissa’s side and allowed herself to be led away. At the princess’s lead, they ascended the spiraling staircase into one of the castle’s towers.
“Thank you for rescuing me, Your Highness,” Vanessa said as soon as they were out of earshot.
“I’m not sure if I saved you from the knight or the knight from you.” At Vanessa’s questioning look, Clarissa leaned in and whispered, “Your scales were starting to show, it wouldn’t do to allow you to complete the process.”
Vanessa shook her head, energetically enough to shake a lock of hair loose from the bun it was tied in. “I would never allow myself to dishonor Your Highness by losing my temper in such a manner.”
“I don’t know,” Clarissa said with a smirk. “I’ve made great use of your anger in the past.”
Vanessa smiled sweetly. “Allowing you to wield my anger as a sword, in one form or another, is hardly the same as losing my temper. If anything, it requires that I maintain control of my temper more firmly than ever.”
Clarissa let out a soft laugh and bowed slightly to concede the point. The two then arrived at the royal bed chambers. Clarissa ushered Vanessa inside and then barred the door behind her. Vanessa closed her eyes and walked the edge of the room, taking in a series of shallow breaths through her nose.
Clarissa’s eyes followed her handmaiden as she passed the features of the small room. A tapestry showing her lineage. A window overlooking the keep’s courtyard. A four-poster bedframe draped in silken sheets. An armoire displaying gold jewelry. A closet where Clarissa knew her “hulking” suit of armor sat hidden from view.
“We are free of spies, Your Highness,” Vanessa declared when she finished her circuit. “Have you learned anything worth discussing, or are we simply hiding from Sir George?”
Clarissa let out a very unladylike snort. “Not simply hiding. Duke Siegfried will be leading a force into the Northern Mountains to hunt the dragon riders.”
“How treacherous,” Vanessa said in a complete deadpan. “Those mountains have many narrow passes. Many places a forewarned dragon rider might stage an ambush.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Clarissa said with a smile. “I trust you can make the necessary arrangements?”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Vanessa paused. “Is there anything else you require, or should I begin preparations immediately?”
Clarissa studied her face intently but didn’t say anything. Her eyes trailed to the loose lock of hair framing the side of Vanessa’s cheek. Vanessa began to flush slightly under the attention. Absentmindedly, a forked tongue snaked its way out of Vanessa’s mouth. Her tongue reached up across her cheek and tucked the loose lock of hair behind her ear.
Clarissa glanced in the direction of the bed. “I suppose there is one other task you can perform first.”
The flush on Vanessa’s cheeks was joined by the brighter red color of scales appearing from beneath the collar of her dress. “Your Highness is feeling… territorial then? Shall I help you with your dress?”
“Of course,” Clarissa said, and turned around to expose her laces. After a moment, she spoke again. “I have half a mind to give Sir George command of a front-line unit. Let the knight earn his tales of bravery.”
“That would be a waste, Your Highness,” Vanessa said as she began to unravel the lacing on the princess’s dress. “The man is a supply officer through and through.”
“So defensive. You understand that I am not accustomed to leaving rivals of any kind.”
Vanessa finished with the lacing on the dress and peeled the silk from the princess’s shoulders. “Perhaps introduce him to Lady Margret. She has expressed interest in acquiring a husband.”
“She has also expressed interest in entering these bed chambers.”
“Has she?” Vanessa asked as she started on the lacing of the corset. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You would remove one rival with another.” When she didn’t receive a response, Clarissa continued, “I suppose I could introduce the two. Consider yourself as having saved Sir George.”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
“Such deviousness,” Clarissa drawled. “Wherever did you learn such a thing?”
“From your astute tutelage, Your Highness,” Vanessa said. “After all, you have always told me that all is fair in love and war.”
Originally published in the Spring 2023 issue of The Hedge Apple.
Crayshack 