Rich Girl

by Mary E. Twomey

  This was my mother. I was supposed to want to be near her. What the crap was wrong with me?

  She gripped my shoulders with fingernails that were far sharper than they looked. “Beauty, don’t you worry. Your queen will fix what’s broken in you. Master Kerdik will put you back together, and your Compass will be good as new. It was your birth blessing; I highly doubt it simply vanished. Perhaps you just need to be taught how to use it. I can certainly help with that.”

  I nodded, unsure what else I was supposed to do. “Sure. Some mother-daughter bonding time sounds nice.”

  Morgan glanced down at my dirty clothes and retracted her hands from me, as if I was covered in feces. She snapped her fingers at Rigby without looking at him. Rigby was ready with a handkerchief he placed in her expectant palm. She all but snarled at me as if I was a disgusting bug she needed to wipe her hands clean of. “Straighten her up, Rigby. See to it the seamstress gets her a properly fitting wardrobe. Something grand for the celebration, and a few gowns in the colors of my crown for the courtly meetings when potential suitors come to call.” When I opened my mouth to shut down the noise about suitors, Morgan reached out and snatched my lips, holding them shut. In a command that was quiet but firm, she instructed me with two words that made me recoil. “Be beautiful. That’s what’s required of you. Do not disappoint me.”

  Lane had never done something so disrespectful to me. I knocked Morgan’s hand out of the way, not even pretending to play nice. “Dude, don’t put your hands on me, and don’t shut me up like that. It’s friggin’ rude.”

  It was as if all the soldiers stopped breathing as one. Rigby was motionless, watching the exchange with widened green eyes that were suddenly expressive with a silent warning for me to behave. I kept my chin up, and tried not to look defiant, but instead to appear calm and rational. I tried to look like Lane – a woman who didn’t need to prove herself, or fight to get her point across.

  I didn’t understand the assault that was coming when she pulled her hand back and let her palm smack across my face. My cheek stung with betrayal, anger and a deeply slicing wound that might never heal. Morgan’s words came out cold, sifted through lips that barely moved through her flaring anger. “Rigby, see to it my daughter is educated on our ways.”

  “Yes, your majesty most high.”

  “Remove her from my sight before I strike her again and leave a mark on her petulant face. It would utterly ruin the celebration.” She raised her finger to me in a threat. “But don’t think I won’t take a switch to your backside, little bête.”

  I didn’t know what that word meant, but I’m guessing it wasn’t “daughter” by the disgusted way she said it. I felt the pressure of moisture building behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

  “Yes, your majesty most high. Come with me, your grace,” Rigby said to me with a slight bow of his head in my direction. He gave Morgan a deeper bow before extending his elbow to me.

  I took the gentlemanly offer and moved with Rigby out of the throne room and out into my new home in the cold, stone castle.

  2

  The Amazing Girl Who Bathes Herself

  “Dude, you don’t need to wash me. Is that seriously part of your job?” I probably wasn’t supposed to talk back this early in the game, but Rigby was a man in his forties offering to help me in the bathtub. No. Just, no.

  “It’s my job to oversee all aspects of your care. I do this for your mother, as well. If you prefer another servant, I can summon one for you.” His overly formal demeanor did nothing to put me at ease. He stood perfectly erect at all times, his chin elevated and shoulders back with one hand behind him, resting at the small of his back.

  “Um, that’s alright. I can bathe myself. I’m sure you people have better things to do than help a grown woman in the tub.”

  “Are you certain? It’s not proper for a princess to do peasant work.”

  “Peasant work, like… bathing? You think bathing is work? Man, Avalon sure is a trip.” I offered him a smile, knowing I was probably being a little rude. I mean, dude was just offering what was normal for his world, and I was making faces like a brat. “I’m sorry. I’m being a jerk. This is all a little strange for me, so you might have to be extra patient.”

  “I can do that, your grace.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Could you just call me Rosie? ‘Your grace’ is really throwing me.”

  This, apparently, was a big conundrum for him. I watched his composed expression fall into disrepair. “I shouldn’t like to argue with you, your gr—Rosie, but her majesty most high would not approve.”

  “Oh, would calling me by my first name get you into trouble?”

  He nodded, grateful I understood the bare minimum. “Apologies, your grace.”

  I glanced around the fancy bedroom I was given. It was three times as large as our entire apartment, and decorated like a Victorian dream in gold and dusty pink hues. I felt like I’d stepped into a middle-ages dollhouse. “Well, when it’s just us, would it be okay if you called me Rosie? Then when we’re in front of everyone else, you can call me whatever Morgan likes.”

  Rigby’s debate was plain on his face, the small devious diversion from Morgan’s rule a grand step for him. He checked that the door was shut twice before he said, “As you wish it, Rosie.”

  My grin spread wide across my face. Progress. Perhaps there were humanoids here after all. “Thanks. Um, I hate to ask for stuff right off the bat, but if I could get some clean clothes to change into, I’d be grateful. I also need to send a message to Lane, if that’s possible.”

  “Of course, your gr—Rosie.” A flicker of a smile caught his lips before it disappeared. “I’ve already sent for a dressing gown to be worn in here while new clothes are being made for you. I would have the tailor take your measurements right now, but her majesty most high has requested we limit your audience until you’re presentable.”

  “Ah. Mommy dearest doesn’t want me seen looking like crap.” I ducked behind the partition and started peeling off my filthy clothes. The bath had already been drawn, and was warm. The water smelled like roses, complete with fresh pink petals resting on the surface of the ivory claw-footed tub.

  I dipped into the luxury and sunk beneath the surface, exhaling out the dust of the road and letting the rose-scented water seep into my pores. When I came back up, I realized Rigby had been talking to me from the other side of the partition. “Sorry, what? I was underwater. Didn’t catch that.”

  “I asked if you changed your mind and needed assistance. I can still summon you another servant, if you prefer someone else.”

  I chuckled and started in on the soap, which was pink with flecks of gold in it. “Oh, Rigs. Man, is this going to be the best job of your life. You’re used to bathing grown women and doing every little thing. I’m used to doing everything myself. It’s going to be a relaxing vacation for you.”

  “Are you scorning my help because you assume me incompetent? I assure you, I’m quite capable of tending to anything you need. It’s my joy to serve the crown of Province 1. I’m her majesty most high’s soumettre.”

  I laughed, covering my mouth too late. “That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard. Of course I don’t think you’re incompetent. I just know how to take a bath without help. Be real, Rigs. It’s your joy to wait on Morgan and me? There’s nothing else you’d rather be doing with your time than tying our shoes?” I looked up at the painted ceiling that features women in various stages of idyllic, curvy nudity, staring down at me with cherubic smiles of serenity. “You’re funny, Rigs. Sit down and rest a little. You’ve probably been on your feet all day. Take a load off and chill.”

  The elongated pause didn’t give me much hope that I could be myself in at least one room of the castle. Finally, Rigs replied, “Is that your wish, Princess?”

  I smirked at finally gaining some ground. “It’s my wish and command, if that’s what you need. I demand you have a seat and relax a little.”
<
br />   “Yes, your grace.”

  I heard the chair shuffling, and continued soaping myself, mildly satisfied that he’d conceded for the time being. I was so filthy, that once I finished washing myself, I started all over again, just to make sure I was clean. I idly examined the large square-shaped aquamarine stone on my right ring finger, counting the matching clusters of three diamonds each in a triangular shape on both sides of the square. It was so pretty, the white gold band twisted like vines around my finger, gleaming against my tanned skin. I’d never owned real jewelry before, and the change on my hand was heady. Kerdik had given it to me during the freak storm in which I’d asked my gut to lead me somewhere safe, and it had taken me straight to him.

  Rigs didn’t know how to sit in a chair and do nothing. He fidgeted kind of a lot, which was good for me, because then I knew he wasn’t going to sneak up on me and try to wash between my toes or something. Bastien was the first and only man to see me naked, and I didn’t look forward to adding Rigs to that short list.

  I gulped hard at the memory of the least sexy moment of my life. Roland, my jaggoff cousin, thought I was smuggling the three gemstones when they went missing (and mysteriously hopped into Aunt Avril’s pocket). Bastien thought the best way to clear my name was to search me, which involved me stripping down to nothing in the most humiliating moment of my existence.

  It wasn’t that I was ashamed of my body. I spent most of my free time on the soccer field, or playing whatever sport happened to have a slot open for me, so I’d always been fit. A few months ago, I’d gone from having a hump, a lazy eye and acne, to now looking more like Lane, who had always been gorgeous. But my body was mine, and I hadn’t been given the right to call the shots on who saw every nuance and curve. I’d had deep and real feelings for Bastien – a first for me – and he hadn’t trusted me. What should’ve been a meaningful and passionate moment when he someday saw me naked was tarnished with betrayal. He was the only man to ever see me so vulnerable, and I couldn’t trust him now because of it. It should’ve been my choice to show him my body. There should’ve been kisses, flowers, promises, and, if Lane had any say in it, a wedding ring. After the humiliating betrayal, I couldn’t stomach being around him anymore.

  It was as fine a time as any to turn myself over to Morgan and try my luck at finding the gemstones.

  3

  The Girl Who Can’t Brush her Own Hair

  “Hey, Rigs?” I was nervous in the tub, wanting privacy, but also needing more information about all I’d missed.

  “Yes, your grace.” He cleared his throat. “Rosie.”

  “Can I send Lane a letter? Is that possible?”

  “Of course. We can send it out in the morning for you.”

  “How was Reyn when Lane took him home? Was he alright? The guards didn’t lock him in a dungeon or anything, did they?”

  “Master Reyn was ill with a bone sickness before he came to us. That’s from giving his sister half his magic to keep her alive in the limbo in which she was left. That wasn’t our doing, and he won’t be restored fully from that until his sister passes on someday. He left after being humbled by our guards during a round of fruitless questioning. That much we can claim.”

  I let that settle in for a few beats. I didn’t like the thought of Reyn hurt. He was a sweet guy who’d taken a shine to Lane. I hoped they were holed up somewhere nice, and that she was helping him heal up. He’d been sick on our journey a couple times. I hadn’t known it was from giving his sister half of his magic, so Rachelle could stay alive in the coma she’d been locked in after Captain Burke left her for dead. “Do you think he’ll be alright?”

  “Indeed. He’s the judge’s son from Province 2, which is one of our allies. We couldn’t kill him without just cause, and we didn’t have it. He was released after the guards had their fun. He’ll heal. He’s no doubt either at home, or in the arms of Duchess Elaine in Province 9.”

  I chewed on that information, filing it away in my brain to keep track of how things worked around here. “So this castle’s got a prison in it? Like, an actual dungeon?”

  “Indeed. It keeps the people honest, for the most part.”

  “Where is it in the castle? Like, underground?”

  “Once you finish with your bath, I’d be delighted to give you a tour.”

  I yawned, stretching my legs under the water. I loved Cheval, but riding on him for days left my body a little jarred. The warm water was a soothing balm to my aching muscles. “That would be great. I’m a little exhausted, though. Any chance I could catch a nap?”

  I heard the chair shuffling as Rigs stood. “You require sleep?”

  I yawned again. “Yeah. Every night, chief. The birth blessing that stuck is that I can hear the animals who talk to me. Drains my battery right quick.” I decided there wasn’t a ton of jewel thievery Morgan could make me do with that knowledge. I had to give them a solid reason why I needed to sleep every night.

  “Of course, your grace. My oversight. I didn’t realize, but of course. Good to hear one of your birth blessings is still intact. What else do you require?”

  “Require?” My face pulled. I considered his request as I debated between making another request and appearing high maintenance. “That’s more than enough. Just the bed would be great after I send out a note to Lane. I haven’t had a solid eight in a while, Rigs.”

  “I didn’t realize you’d used enough magic to exhaust yourself. Forgive me, your grace. It won’t happen again.”

  I waved off his apology, though he couldn’t see me through the partition. “It’s fine. How would you know something like that? We only just met today.”

  “I wasn’t under the impression you understood how to use your magic yet. You’ve lived Common mostly, no?”

  “Yeah. And I don’t know how to do your spells or anything like that. I can only talk to the animals, as far as magic and blessings and all that goes. I can’t help it. I love talking to them, but apparently that’s the thing that makes me super tired. So I try to sleep eight hours a night. I get pretty crabby when I miss out.”

  “Eight hours a night. Yes, your grace.” He opened the heavy bedroom door, the wood creaking as he poked his head out. “The Lost Princess requires the bed be made for sleep, and parchment to write a letter.” He shut the door again and set a gauzy beige folded outfit on the table near the tub atop the towel, averting his eyes from me so he didn’t see anything too sexy for his own good. “Your dressing gown, your grace,” he said as he stepped to the other side of the partition to grant me the privacy I needed.

  “Thanks, man. I haven’t worn anything that wasn’t covered in road dirt in ages.” I squeezed some of the excess water from my hair and let the droplets run down my back. “Are you sure it’s okay with Morgan that I’m here? I thought after all this time, my mother would be excited to see me, but I think I’m only pissing her off.”

  Rigs spoke slowly, each word carefully chosen. “The Queen most high is glad to have her daughter back, safe and sound. Perhaps you’re more used to Duchess Elaine’s exuberance, and were expecting something more to that caliber?”

  I tried not to let my voice sound too despondent. Despite all the warnings about Morgan and how awful she was, I still wanted my mother to like me. I tried not to let my tender wounds show. I was Lane’s daughter, after all. I had a mother figure who wanted me, and loved me for the weirdo I was. “Morgan and I will find a rhythm, right? She won’t always look at me like I’m something icky stuck to the bottom of her shoe?”

  “I’m sure no one looks at you like that. Her majesty most high is… She feels a great many things, not the least of which is lonesome. I’m sure she’ll be glad to have another family member under the roof.”

  I stared into the water, which now had bits of dust floating on the surface. “You’re a good bullshitter, Rigs. Thanks for trying to make it smoother than it is. You’re a nice guy.”

  A knock at the door interrupted his reply, and I heard something metal slid
ing onto a wooden table out there when I stepped from of the tub. I wasn’t expecting the gauzy white dressing gown to be a legit gown, but after I toweled off and tugged it over my head, I was shocked to see how pretty it was for such a simple thing. There were no sleeves, but thick tank top straps holding it up. The dress cut below my bust, revealing just enough cleavage for me to feel weird stepping foot outside the bedroom. The gown was loose around my hips, and the hem fell to my bare toes. They wiggled happily, feeling liberated being out of my shoes, free to dance and roam at will.

  My stomach rumbled loudly when I stepped out from behind the partition. My hair was tangly and wet, but I was clean, and the feeling was marvelous. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face and beamed at Rigs, who broke his professional demeanor to smile at me. “Thank you. That bath was exactly what I needed.”

  “Of course, your grace.” He ducked his head out again and snapped his fingers, giving short commands to whoever was out in the hallway. Then he shut the door and turned back to me. “Supper will be brought up to you tonight, but usually her majesty prefers to eat alone in the dining hall. Perhaps tomorrow you can join her there. Give the two of you a second chance at the reunion you’d pictured.”

  “Sure. Thanks. Yeah, I’m kind of starved.” I meekly explained my vegetarian dietary restrictions, apologizing for the hassle.

  Rigs waved off my apology and let in a dude who looked to be just a few years older than me. He carried a silver tray with a quill, ink, parchment, a comb and a bottle of oil on it, setting it on the wooden table in the center of the room. He kept his eyes averted and bowed to me, his black, feathery hair dipping forward slightly. Rigs held his hand toward the man when he spoke to me. “Your grace, this is Demi. He is to be your soumettre. Should you need anything, you can summon me, or ask Demi to see to it.”