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Lying With the Enemy

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Late afternoon stretches into early evening. The crackling heat has cooled, a breeze whistling across my cheeks. My ankles ache in a way I never knew possible. If simply crouching in the same spot for hours isn’t already considered hard labor, it should be. We’ve all been huddled in seclusion long enough for the oppressing heat of the afternoon sun to dilute enough to merely exist without feeling the need to mop up the soaking bits of my body with a torn rag. 

As for the carriage, it’s still waiting on the dirt road, horse and all. The smartly dressed man, however, is just now emerging from the opposite wood. If he still has the knife, it’s concealed somewhere on his body.

And the woman is nowhere to be seen.  

The man looks around the darkness. And as he’s scanning the area, his eyes land directly on me. Moonlight glints off his irises and they look sinister. I can barely breathe as he continues to stare, even takes a few steps in our direction. And just when I think he’s figured out we’re here, he swoops his arm in a large motion, lips moving silently, and wisps of something seep up through the dirt road. The wisps grow into clouds of something. And as bizarre as this may sound, I can hear the clouds...whispering to each other. The man is soon encompassed in the  whispering fog and then he’s gone. No trace is left of him but the goosebumps rising against my skin. 

For a time more we sit in silence, unsure of what may happen next. Then, finally, Jacoby unfolds his long legs and takes a step near the road. My siblings and I know to stay put. My older brother takes several more cautious steps toward the dirt road. Eventually, he makes it into the moonlight, taking survey of the surrounding wood. 

Turning to us, he waves his arm in a beckoning motion. Even in the shade of dusk, I notice the sweat on his brows. Or maybe it's a hallucination from baking in the heat for the better part of my day. Regardless, I know he's stressed. Being the oldest, he holds the weight of us on his shoulders quite often. So, at this moment, I make a personal oath to be as independent as I know how.

"Is he gone?" Pond whispers next to me. "The man with the...uh-" 

"I think so," I say and stand. 

"How do we know for sure?" Elora asks, still folded close to the grass. "What if he comes back?" 

I stretch out my hand toward her. After a moment's hesitation, Elora takes it and I help her to her feet.

"I don't think he will," I say. "But, even if he does, we'll be long gone by then. Come on. We better not stick around too long."

Pond and Elora follow me out of the shadows of the trees and onto the dirt road, where Jacoby is inspecting the abandoned carriage. It's very different from the ramshackle ones that grumble through the village roads. This one looks regal, made of sturdy wood stripped from trees that only grow around the perimeter of big cities. The horse has a well-groomed black coat with blue and black beads braided into its mane and swishing tail, colors of the flag from which it hails. If my memory serves me correctly, this is a carriage from Illoria. It’s a merchant city that specializes in premium fabrics. Which would explain the luxurious tapestry that conceals the cabin inside. And whoever the man dragged into the woods was a significant person from Illoria, possibly even a member of the royal court.

“Get in,” Jacoby says.

My mouth opens, aghast. “Get in?”

“It’s an abandoned carriage with a strong horse that will surely deliver us into Brae with minimal time delays,” he says, brushing his fingers over the horse’s side with a calculative expression. “Stealing a carriage is risky, I know. But four teenagers trying to make it into the royal kingdom by foot is even riskier. This way, should we be stopped and questioned, we’ll have a cover story.”

“And that cover story is?” I ask.

With a mysterious grin, Jacoby pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and stretches it out to me. Skeptically, I take it. And Pond and Elora press up against my sides as I read it aloud: “The sheltered Royal Princess of Illoria comes out of hiding to be wed to the Royal Prince of the Braein kingdom. This matrimony will not only wed the two, but so shall their kingdoms be unified in marital bliss…”

“And, naturally, I should take the role of the Illorian princess.” Elora tosses her braids to one shoulder with a haughty attitude. “No offense, Nao. But, you’re not really princess material.”

“Offended?” I scoff at her. “Believe you me, I’m relieved.”

“On the contrary,” Jacoby says. “If this all goes according to plan, the princess will be in close quarters with the prince and royal family. She needs to have command over her own emotions, level-headed judgement, a close ear for information, and most importantly self-restraint. We don’t have a better Illorian princess than Naomi.”

“What?” Elora and I manage to blurt at the same time.

“Do you honestly think we’re here to play dress-up?” Jacoby asks in frustration. “We’re here to get what we need to save Ama’s life. This is not the time to be selfish. Now, Naomi, you’re the princess. I’ll be the princess’ royal advisor and sworn protector. Pond, you’re our horse master and carriage attendant. And, Elora, don’t faint, but you’re the princess’ lady-in-waiting.”

“Lady-in-waiting?” Elora’s face contorts. “Let me get this straight. Not only am I not the princess. Which is a role I was born for, by the way. But, I’m her servant? I-I...is this what an aneurysm feels like?”

“Dear Lord.” Jacoby rolls his eyes with a heavy sigh. “I’m going to check inside for any supplies. You three, stay close and quiet.”

“I’ll be real quiet,” Elora says under her breath next to me. “Just practicing for when I’m a servant.”

Jacoby pulls himself up and disappears inside the cabin. As soon as the partition falls shut, Elora turns to me with a twisted lip, arms crossed over her chest. “Tell Jake you don’t wanna be the princess.”

“I’m as unenthused about it as you are,” I tell her. “But, if Jake thinks it’s for the best then-”

“Oh, we both know it wouldn’t be for the best.” Elora scoffs.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, beginning to get a little irritated. 

“No offense, Nao-”

“You know, ‘no offense’ isn’t some magical shield that’ll stop me from being offended.” I cross my arms back at her. “But, go ahead. Because now I at least know you’re about to say something rude, and I’m ready for it.”

“Come on, Naomi.” Elora laughs at a joke only she seems to find funny.

“Come on, what?” Maybe it’s the frown I feel tugging at my lips that makes Elora get serious. Because she lets out a heavy breath and takes a step toward me.

“I mean, just start with the way you dress,” she says, plucking at my plain, white blouse with a grimace. “Any self-respecting young lady wears a dress or skirt, at the very least. And pieces made out of seasonal flowers and striking colors are all the rage right now. Take my outfit, for example.”

To drill in her point, Elora takes a step back so she has space to do a slow twirl, showing off her forest green dress with daisies outlining her collar. It’s beautiful on its own. And my flower of a sister makes it that much more stunning.  I should know what’s in style at the moment as Elora never stops pestering me with the frivolous chatter of the “self-respecting young ladies”; and I’m often the one she begs to sew her clothes. 

“A light blouse with trousers is practical for someone who spends as much time outside as I do,” I say through clenched teeth, anger boiling at the back of my throat. “And someone who forages for your sustenance on a regular basis. Elora, what are you trying to stay? Because I don’t dress up like a fairy with no responsibilities everyday that I don’t have what it takes to be a princess? I’m intelligent enough, elegant enough, and I’m showing a bit more class than you at the moment. I’m going to make an excellent Illorian princess and you can sit back and watch from the servants’ quarters.”

“Fine,” Elora grumbles, eyes squinted. “But, when you make a bumbling fool of yourself trying to play a role better fit for a swamp frog, don’t come crying to me for help.”

Sneering at her, I say, “That’s not going to happen, so I won’t.”

“Hey.”

Anger dissipating, I look at Pond from where he’s crouching and staring up between the both of us. He shakes his head.

“Meanwhile, you guys will actually be inside of the castle,” Pond says with a sigh. “I’m gonna be stuck in the stables. And when the horses figure out I’m not actually a master, I’m done for. Maybe we’ll see each other if you guys ever visit the infirmary. Which is where I’ll be after probably taking a hoof to the jaw. But, sure, you guys are gonna have it rough.” 

Just then, Jacoby pokes his head through the partition and waves us in. To save myself from being knocked over by Elora, I let her go in first. And Pond follows after me. The inside of the carriage is comfortable. A lit oil lamp is nestled in a holder on the wall. The seats are cushioned and adorned with pillows in lovely shades of blue.  Different garments are laid neatly on the seats.

“I found these in the cabin’s storage.” Jacoby runs his hands over a pair of trousers, and then looks up at me. “Nao, I was hoping you could tailor them a bit to fit everyone. Maybe add a few more Illorian touches to make it all look more...official?”

I flip the sack on my back around to perch on my left hip and rummage through it. I didn’t think to pack a proper tape measure, but I have string and a little ink to make markings. And my heavy duty sewing equipment is back in my room. However, I did bring a few needles and some string. And maybe I can strip some of the fabric from the pillows to blend Illoria’s blue into the garments. It’ll take more time than I’m used to spending, but I can make it work. I have no choice but to make it work. 

I take Jacoby and Pond’s measurements, before the two leave to figure out the rider’s post. I’m left to take Elora’s measurements. It proves to be more difficult as it seems my brothers have finally got the carriage moving. So, I’m tasked to get my sister to hold still for me as the horses clop along the dirt road and the carriage tilts occasionally due to its inexperienced handlers. 

"I didn't mean it," Elora says in a quiet voice as she stretches out her arms so I can drape my make-shift measuring tape across the width of them. "I was mad, ok? You wouldn't make a horrible princess."

"That was almost a compliment." I'm grumbling, but I don't try too hard to hide my smirk. To say I know my sister like the back of my hand would be an understatement. She's too easy to read. Like a book where the words are supersized in the darkest, freshest ink. I knew a half-assed, begrudging apology was on its way. This is a new record, though. She must feel awful.

“Look.” Elora drops on the cushion next to me. “Just promise not to become a “princess” and forget about your family.”

“So, don’t do what you would do?” I ask.

“Exactly.” Elora smiles with a nod. “Glad we could come to an understanding.”

“Uh, yeah, me too.” I roll my eyes and point to the sack on the floor. “Hand me my stuff?”

 

━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━

We ride for two days straight, making scarce stops to let the horse (who we’ve decided to name Duck) graze and wash off whenever we can find water. Since Elora and I have an image to uphold all of a sudden, I’m stuck with her inside of the cabin for hours on end, listening to her either complain about the heat or the fact that her dress is hemmed to loo low. And so I’m trapped in an endless cycle of her complaining, me explaining that servants are supposed to dress more modestly, and her continuing to complain because...I don’t know. Maybe she loves the sound of her own damn voice. The plain fact is, I’m losing my mind.

So, when Jacoby does his special knock from the rider’s post to signal Elora and I to get into character, I actually breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, something to do besides bury my face into a cushion and scream. The carriage bumbles to a stop and I can hear Duck whinny and stomp his hooves. There’s something of a commotion outside for a few moments before it dies down enough for me to be able to hear someone jump down from the rider’s post. I can’t be sure if it’s Jacoby or Pond. 

“Are we there?” Elora scoots closer and grabs my wrist, staring straight forward in what looks like barely contained panic. I slide my hand in hers and give it a good squeeze.

“I think so,” I say to the side of her face. She still isn’t looking at me. “And we’re going to have to make it through this. So, if there were ever a time for you to act like a lion in a lamb’s body, it’s now.”

“What if I mess up?” She’s still talking to the ghosts in front of her, seemingly lost in a haze of fear. “What if I blow our cover? Or, am so bad that I get kicked out on the streets of Brae to become spirit food?”

“Whatever you do, you do it with excellence and flair.” Elora’s eyes finally find mine, so I don’t stop. “Before soon, you’ll have the other ladies in-waiting waiting on you. And I truly believe that. You should too.”

I don’t get any time to affirm this with my sister because the carriage’s door opens and a sinister fog bleeds inside of the cabin. My grip on her becomes tighter as Jacoby emerges from the fog, leaning in close to us. 

“Elora, don’t speak unless spoken to. Do what you’re told. At some points in the day, you’re going to be with us. And other points, you’re going to be in the servants quarters. But I think I can work this old man over into getting you a conjoining room with mine. Nao, you’re Naomi Evelyn Ollidette, 17 year old Crown Princess of Illoria, a merchant city specializing in luxury fabrics and attire. You’re betrothed to the Crown Prince of Brae, Hyungwon Blackwood. I’ll try to get some info on the others you’ll be expected to know later this evening. For now, speak as scarcely as possible. Just nod, smile, and make generic, polite conversation only when absolutely necessary.”

Jacoby takes both Elora and I’s hands and says, “We’ll get through this together, guys. For Ama.”

And then he’s gone and the partition falls shut again. Whatever Jacoby concocted in his mind to get us through the gates must have worked because instead of being chased from the road, we’re clopping along once more. Elora sits beside me in silence, our hands melting together in solidarity. What awaits us in the castle is unknown. What this Prince Hyungwon will be like is also unknown. I’ve never needed my sister as much as I do right now. All there is to do as we ride to our destination is do final checks of everything. I start with the clothes.

Elora’s lady-in-waiting outfit is simple, as is most appropriate. It’s a muted blue cotton dress with just a bit of intricate seamwork. We are from Illoria afterall, the fashion hub of royal kingdoms. Her flat shoes are a matching color. It’s a beautiful ensemble, in all of its plainness. 

My gown looks like a circus in comparison. It’s a silk, cornflower blue overskirt structured  with a hoop skirt and copious amounts of tulle. The cap-sleeve bodice creates an ombre effect of various blues and is adorned with black lace detailing along the bust. The hem of the skirt is also detailed with more of the lace. I slept with my black curls in braids the past couple of nights so I could manage it into some sort of style where a crown can fit on top of it, the most audacious piece of all. 

There is no way to hide the vibrant flowers growing out of my scalp and peeking through my hair. I just hope no one has ever heard a description of the princess because I may get us killed before we even get a chance to step foot into the castle. Which we pull up to not long after rolling through the gates. As if to compensate for the last couple of days moving in super slow speed, the next hour or so moves like someone has put the world in fast motion.

I can only acquaint myself with what is to be my temporary home in rapid images, quickly guided through winding, stone corridors by a tall, shadowy figure who introduces himself as Hoseok, royal advisor to the prince himself. I can hardly gather my bearings with him flying through the tour as fast as he is. Almost as if he wants to be able to say he gives us the lay of the land without us actually being able to know our way around independently. Places I actually catch are the kitchen, the servant’s wing, and my quarters. 

Hoseok excuses himself to do official business after reminding us of the welcome dinner that begins at dusk. He leaves us in my room. It’s the grandest thing I’ve ever seen. It has several end tables, a humongous wardrobe, a vanity armoire, a four-post bed ladened with fluffy pillows and what looks to be the finest quality linens, and a wide window set in the stone wall to the right of the bed. It’s all decked out in blue and black. Except for the Braein flag covering one-fourth of an entire wall boasting the kingdom’s vibrant blue and silver. 

“I’m gonna take Elora and get her settled in her room, and start working on that information packet I promised you,” Jacoby says. I turn to look at him. He looks so smartly dressed in his blue advisor robes with his hair pulled into a low ponytail. The image of Jacoby and Elora side-by-side in unfamiliar clothes in a strange place makes my stomach turn. I have yet to experience a sense of dread toward our circumstances. But, talk of my siblings leaving me alone in this big room with its cold, stone walls and nothing to keep me company but the window overlooking a cloudy sky invokes the most horrid spell of anxiety I’ve ever felt. What have we gotten ourselves into?

━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━

I’ve been going through the information packet for an hour now. I pick through what I can of Jacoby’s chicken scratch and make a mental note to inquire about anything I can’t read well. My mother, Reina Olidette, queen of Illoria is stricken with a heart ailment. She is said to be  compassionate and wise. My father, Joshua Olidette III, king of Illoria, is rumored to have somewhat of a temper, but is a fair and just ruler. The princess has no brothers or sisters. Although it isn’t my life, I still deflate. The king and queen of Illoria have only one heir, and she may not even be alive. The thought raises so many questions. What happens when all of this is over, if we survive? I can’t stay as Crown Princess of Brae. I want to go back with my siblings to live with Ama. But, surely if we try to go back, especially me, they’ll have guards after our heads.

Before I have time to dwell on it any further, raps come from my door and Jacoby is summoning me for dinner. I guess this is where it begins. I walk beside and a step behind Jacoby. Elora walks a couple steps behind me. If my nerves weren’t already bad enough, when I walk into the palatial dining room and see the intimate space (referring to the set-up and certainly not the size) my chest seizes in palpitations. A servant leads me to my gilded seat, and Jacoby sits beside me. Elora finds a place with the rest of the servants.

And we wait.

After what seems like an eternity, the doors open and in walks the most terrifyingly gorgeous man I have ever seen. He looks about six foot with his chocolate hair gelled away from his face where a crown is nestled on top. He has a wide, smooth forehead, straight eyebrows, almond-shaped deep brown eyes, a strong nose, and plush lips. His robes are the most ostentatious they can possibly be. He’s wearing that signature Braein blue with flecks of luminous silver and just a few touches of gold. A royal-exclusive color, I’m sure. 

I expect for him to regard me with disdain or even scorn. I certainly would if my parents were forcing a stranger on me for marriage. I’m caught completely off-guard by what looks to be excited curiosity as Royal Prince Hyungwon approaches where I’m seated, instead of the gaudy seat at the head of the table that is obviously his own. We stand in haste, and I curtsy just how Jacoby taught me. Upon rising, I’m still baffled by the prince’s expression. 

“I bid you a thousand good evenings, and a thousand more, Princess Naomi.” Prince Hyungwon’s voice sounds like the smoothest spun silk. “Soon-to-be Crown Princess Naomi of Brae.”