It had begun just as all her other days began: bells at dawn, maids running in and out to hurry her into her clothes, and the As
sistant Chamberlain barking a schedule that included too many meetings, greetings, and curtseys to count. Cornelia had nodded, smiled, glanced out the window at the sun, and hoped that perhaps, later, in between meeting the King of Landuria’s third cousin twice removed and lunching with the trade delegation from the outer Helvetian Archipelago, she’d have a chance to escape the palace, if only for a few moments. She wouldn’t get to do so, of course, but she could hope. She always hoped.
Her father and mother dealt with the important meetings. As the heir to the throne and only child of the ruling couple, her job was to deal with the unimportant meetings—the ones that solved no problems, advanced no negotiations, and contained no decisions. A mechanical doll could have done what she did. She was a decoration, giving people a bit of the royal glamor without ever doing any real work. She hated it all.
She smelled the smoke and heard the shouts as she was eating her breakfast. Suddenly, a strange young man dressed in the livery of the palace guard dashed into the room. “They’ve overwhelmed us all!” he shouted. “Princess, follow me and you might be able to escape!” He picked her up, tossed her through the window into the mulch pile below, and leapt after her. “To the woods!” he shouted as she stood, shaking bits of bark off her gown. “I’ve hidden two horses there. We can be away before they realize that you’ve gone.”
And then she was running, hiking up her skirt, climbing into the saddle, and taking off at a breakneck pace to follow the strange young guard. It was only a few hours into the journey that she stopped to consider how odd the entire morning had been. They’d stopped next to a stream to water and rest the horses, and she stared at the young man. He was wearing the livery of the guards, it was true, but he didn’t look familiar. Most people in the castle were familiar. Their court was fairly small, and her parents were keen to know everyone who worked for them. They said it made it easier to learn about the concerns of the citizens.
“Excuse me,” Cornelia said, tilting her head. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” the young man said, making a sweeping bow. “I am Paul Andreasson, junior guardsman, and perhaps the last surviving guardsman. I’m sorry, Princess Cornelia. The attack was very sudden. There was nothing to be done.”
She pursed her lips. Andreasson was an unusual name for their kingdom, where most people had names that spoke of family professions, not patrimony. Millers, Smiths, Coopers, and Shepherds were common. Andreasson sounded like someone from the North Kingdoms, a group of barbaric countries that had been menacing the borders for years.
“I understand,” she said quietly, gazing down at his boots. As she’d suspected, they were not constructed like the footwear of her family’s cavalry. She thought back to the moments before they’d left the palace. There’d been sounds and noise, but she hadn’t seen any enemy soldiers or heard fighting, just shouting. And her parents would hardly send such a young person to rescue her. They would have sent one of the senior guardsmen—someone she knew and trusted. She’d been tricked, and if she wanted to escape, she would have to avoid giving any sign that she’d noticed something amiss.
She looked over her shoulder and shuddered, pretending to be afraid of pursuit. “Are they close behind, do you think? Is there time for me to...?” She blushed prettily. Blushing on command was one of her special talents and was always useful for escaping from unpleasant meetings. Andreasson nodded and graciously turned around as she carefully stepped into the woods.
Carefully, she slipped out of her breakfast gown. Her underdress was much smaller and more practical for running and hiding in the woods. She was thankful that her parents always insisted she wear practical riding boots instead of high-heeled court shoes. She’d always assumed that their reasoning had something to do with posture, but it turned out that she was also well-equipped for unexpected adventures.
“I’m so sorry, it will be a moment,” she called breathlessly. “I’m afraid that today is a very inconvenient day for this sort of thing!”
“Take your time, Princess,” came an unworried reply. “I think we’ll be able to arrive somewhere safe by nightfall.”
Cornelia draped her overdress over a stump. Perhaps if he turned around to look for her, this would fool him for a while. Then she crept off through the underbrush. They hadn’t come very far, so they must still be within the limits of the kingdom. Surely, she could find a village and get help if she just started walking. She headed toward a clump of trees much too close together for a horse. If he were to try to find her, he’d have to follow on foot, and she’d have a decent head start.
Her father and mother dealt with the important meetings. As the heir to the throne and only child of the ruling couple, her job was to deal with the unimportant meetings—the ones that solved no problems, advanced no negotiations, and contained no decisions. A mechanical doll could have done what she did. She was a decoration, giving people a bit of the royal glamor without ever doing any real work. She hated it all.
She smelled the smoke and heard the shouts as she was eating her breakfast. Suddenly, a strange young man dressed in the livery of the palace guard dashed into the room. “They’ve overwhelmed us all!” he shouted. “Princess, follow me and you might be able to escape!” He picked her up, tossed her through the window into the mulch pile below, and leapt after her. “To the woods!” he shouted as she stood, shaking bits of bark off her gown. “I’ve hidden two horses there. We can be away before they realize that you’ve gone.”
And then she was running, hiking up her skirt, climbing into the saddle, and taking off at a breakneck pace to follow the strange young guard. It was only a few hours into the journey that she stopped to consider how odd the entire morning had been. They’d stopped next to a stream to water and rest the horses, and she stared at the young man. He was wearing the livery of the guards, it was true, but he didn’t look familiar. Most people in the castle were familiar. Their court was fairly small, and her parents were keen to know everyone who worked for them. They said it made it easier to learn about the concerns of the citizens.
“Excuse me,” Cornelia said, tilting her head. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” the young man said, making a sweeping bow. “I am Paul Andreasson, junior guardsman, and perhaps the last surviving guardsman. I’m sorry, Princess Cornelia. The attack was very sudden. There was nothing to be done.”
She pursed her lips. Andreasson was an unusual name for their kingdom, where most people had names that spoke of family professions, not patrimony. Millers, Smiths, Coopers, and Shepherds were common. Andreasson sounded like someone from the North Kingdoms, a group of barbaric countries that had been menacing the borders for years.
“I understand,” she said quietly, gazing down at his boots. As she’d suspected, they were not constructed like the footwear of her family’s cavalry. She thought back to the moments before they’d left the palace. There’d been sounds and noise, but she hadn’t seen any enemy soldiers or heard fighting, just shouting. And her parents would hardly send such a young person to rescue her. They would have sent one of the senior guardsmen—someone she knew and trusted. She’d been tricked, and if she wanted to escape, she would have to avoid giving any sign that she’d noticed something amiss.
She looked over her shoulder and shuddered, pretending to be afraid of pursuit. “Are they close behind, do you think? Is there time for me to...?” She blushed prettily. Blushing on command was one of her special talents and was always useful for escaping from unpleasant meetings. Andreasson nodded and graciously turned around as she carefully stepped into the woods.
Carefully, she slipped out of her breakfast gown. Her underdress was much smaller and more practical for running and hiding in the woods. She was thankful that her parents always insisted she wear practical riding boots instead of high-heeled court shoes. She’d always assumed that their reasoning had something to do with posture, but it turned out that she was also well-equipped for unexpected adventures.
“I’m so sorry, it will be a moment,” she called breathlessly. “I’m afraid that today is a very inconvenient day for this sort of thing!”
“Take your time, Princess,” came an unworried reply. “I think we’ll be able to arrive somewhere safe by nightfall.”
Cornelia draped her overdress over a stump. Perhaps if he turned around to look for her, this would fool him for a while. Then she crept off through the underbrush. They hadn’t come very far, so they must still be within the limits of the kingdom. Surely, she could find a village and get help if she just started walking. She headed toward a clump of trees much too close together for a horse. If he were to try to find her, he’d have to follow on foot, and she’d have a decent head start.
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