by Aya Ling
"Who is that?" a lady in front of them asked. "He's wearing Tintagel colors, but he doesn't look Tintagelese."
"I heard he's the son of a blacksmith; moreover, he's of mixed blood." Her companion's tone dripped with contempt. "I can't believe they let someone like that in the Academy."
"Goodness! I can't imagine that either. This is even more shocking than the number of warrior maids."
Elaine leaned forward and tapped their shoulders. "Excuse me?"
The young ladies were startled. "Your...Your Highness!"
Elaine smiled sweetly. "Don't look so shocked, I don't bite. I was only wondering...have you read Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen?"
"Er..."
"I suppose not, your governesses probably only made you read that venerable Book of Etiquette." Elaine was still smiling, but her tone was laced with sarcasm. Emphasis on 'venerable'. "Then I suggest you listen carefully: our law states that every human, every creature must be treated equally. That includes everyone. Including the person you just mentioned, who has every right to be in the Academy and who was sponsored by the empress Salome herself. Unless you wish to dispute the judgment of the empress?"
"Of...of course not..."
"Do not ever let me hear you question his right to attend the Academy," Elaine said. "Or I shall have to report to the king and queen that two of our esteemed courtiers have breached the law. I'm sure you don't want that to happen, do you?"
She folded her arms and sat back in her seat. Bran and Arnold sent her looks of wonder, which she pointedly ignored. The horn blared, signaling the last battle was to commence and their attention shifted to the arena.
Elaine held her breath. Andre's opponent was a tawny young man from the Greenwood clan who were known for turning out fine warriors. Greenwood was several inches taller than him and possessed a larger frame; it was said he managed to catch a wild tiger with his bare hands while in an excursion to Makani.
The two warriors rushed at each other--there was a clash of lances--Elaine nearly screamed when she saw Greenwood's lance slash at Andre's thigh, but the latter dodged in the last second, the lance grazing his horse's side. A minute later, Andre rode past Greenwood and without looking back, thrust his lance towards Greenwood's armpit, which was one of the armor's openings. Greenwood winced; his lance swayed but he did not drop it.
"Did he grow an eye in the back of his head?" Arnold said, his mouth half open.
"It takes tons of practice, meathead," Bran said. "Did you forget how he did in archery? I wouldn't be surprised if he could aim with such precision in jousting as well."
It was with skill and speed that Andre eventually bested his opponent. When Greenwood roared and drove his lance sideways towards his opponent's waist, Andre threw his upper torso backwards, so the lance actually passed in front of him--just mere inches before his stomach. Elaine's eyes bulged, she couldn't even scream this time. With a move that no one anticipated, Andre grabbed the lance and pulled it in the same direction Greenwood was aiming for--combining Greenwood's strength with his own.
Taken by surprise, Greenwood tried to withdraw his lance, but it was too late. His lance slipped from his fingers--he made a wild grab--missed--and in the next second, Andre's lance was pointing at his throat.
A cheer rose in the crowd. Some were still stunned--it was only a matter of seconds, it almost seemed as if Andre had used magic to win.
Lady Matilda stood up. A hush fell over the arena. Being the legendary lady warrior who inspired dozens of new warriors, her presence alone was enough to intimidate all.
"The judges have cast their votes. The Best Fighter of this year," she paused for effect, "goes to Andre Toussaint of Tintagel!"
The audience erupted. A minority protested, but their complaints were soon drowned out by the raucous cheers and shouts and applause. Andre stood straight, his face lifted to the sky, his eyes closed. Elaine wondered if he was praying.
Then Lady Matilda ordered for the prizes to be brought. About half the warriors were awarded the shield, and several included women. For Andre, he was awarded a handsome crimson cape embroidered with the royal Rivieran insignia. Darwar himself pulled the cape around Andre's shoulders and shook his hand.
"We should go and congratulate him," Bran said.
Elaine was already rushing down the stairs. It was rather difficult to find Andre, since he was soon surrounded by many who wanted to congratulate him. But crowds never deterred Her Highness Elaine. When she was still a child, she knew how to dart through throngs of servants while either Jayden or Kayden tried to catch her. She was taller now, but her dodging skills remained sharp as evet. Like a slippery eel, she wove her way in and out of Andre's Academy friends until she finally reached him.
"Andre!" A young woman squeezed by, almost knocking Elaine over. She had bright red hair and clear green eyes. While her beauty certainly didn't measure up to Elaine's, she looked strong and independent–the typical Academy warrior maid. The redhead kissed him on the cheek and hugged him. "Congratulations! I knew you would win."
Andre did not push her away. "Thank you, Ciara."
It was then Elaine realized he had never called her by her first name. For a moment, she shrank back, feeling hurt and ignored. But then she mentally shook herself. If that redheaded chit could offer congratulations, then so could she. But first she had to get Andre away from that girl.
Elaine pretended to trip forward and fell on the ground with a thud.
"Ow!"
As she hoped, Andre was by her side in an instant.
"Are you all right, princess?"
"Oh no," Elaine murmured. "I believe I have twisted my ankle."
"Then you must sit down and rest." Andre extended his hand. Elaine was about to take it but a voice interrupted, "Princess Elaine! Please, allow me." And she found herself picked up from the ground like a rag doll.
Owen Greenwood.
Elaine gritted her teeth. "Put me down," she said. "I don't like being carried."
"But my dear princess, you must rest!"
From the corner of her eye, Elaine could see Andre was once again surrounded.
Damn.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Although the tournament did not end well for Elaine--she was forced to return to her room and rest, and couldn't see Andre at all--she made one valuable discovery: titanium. She set to work immediately; she brought her designs to Jims and asked if he could collaborate with the blacksmith and fashion a new cylinder, using that "wondrous new material they're making for the Academy's armor."
"That I'll get to righ' away," Jims promised. "Yer finished school, didn't you? What's the plan next, little princess? I heard the suitors lining up fer yer hand could fill up the Academy stands."
"No plans for marriage," Elaine grimaced. "I've no interest in any of them."
"Not even the new champion?" There was definitely a sly twinkle in Jims' eyes.
Embarrassed, Elaine chose to ignore his question by countering with another one. "When do you think the cylinders would be ready?"
"Day after tomorrow should be fine, we've a few days off. I know well the mold to use."
"Really?" Elaine squealed and gave him a hug. "Jims, you are the best! I don't know what I'd do without you."
"'Tis nothing." Jims' ears went red, and he patted her back awkwardly. "Of course I'd help when yer inventing all this stuff. Yer a smart girl and I'm proud of yer. And don't yer worry, that lad'll come around. I'll knock some sense into him."
"Jims!" It was Elaine's turn to blush.
"Eh? Yer don' want me put in a word fer yer? Or yer don' want him? I thought yer fancied him long ago."
"I'll come over tomorrow." Elaine brushed sawdust off her hands and rose. She used to launch off the bench, but now that she was sixteen, she was too tall to jump off. "I've got to see to the harness, I think it still needs some fixing."
The cylinder was promptly finished as Jims promised. Elaine carried it off with profuse gratitude and brou
ght it back to her den. Today was the last day of the celebrations and she was immensely relieved that the end had come. No more ridiculously early mornings spent primping and powdering and dressing, no more functions she had to attend with a huge fake smile while wishing she was back in her den, no more fawning young men attempting to waylay her and sending her trinkets, chocolate, and God forbid, flowers that made her sneeze. There was a farewell ceremony she had to attend, as most foreign guests departed for their own countries today, but her thoughts were on her darling machine. Once she smiled and waved off the last guest, the Makani ambassador who wanted to give her a pet chipmunk, she raced back to her room. Once she emerged, she almost ran headfirst into Winifred, who was entering with a load of freshly pressed linen.
"And just where are you sneaking off to?"
"Er..." Caught red-handed with her arms full of leather and metal, Elaine whined and pleaded, just as she did countless times as a child. "Oh Winnie, I'll only be for a moment."
Winifred narrowed her eyes. "Are you going to try out that machine again?"
"I'll be back for lunch, I swear."
Winifred sighed. "You're worse than a flea, little princess. Go."
Rejoicing, Elaine slipped out of her room. She was careful to avoid going near people, lest some annoying person like Owen Greenwood accosted her. Like a thief skulking in shadows, she made her way to the jousting field near the Academy. Ever since the grand preparations for the tournament, the Academy allowed its students a holiday, leaving the field gloriously free. Perfect conditions for flying.
Elaine swiftly fastened her leather harness over her shoulders and around her waist. Two titanium cylinders were connected to her harness and strapped on her back. A brass handle ran in front of the belt that controlled the direction. By pressing a button on her side hip, compressed gas would be released from the cylinders and propel her body into air. Last time she tested, she stayed ten seconds in the air, wobbling like a baby bird learning to fly, but at least her feet were off the ground. If anything happened, she could always activate the miniature parachute she had attached on the top of the cylinders. She snapped on a pair of goggles and put on her gloves. Already, she was picturing herself arriving in Linderall not by foot, but swooping into the Exhibition midair. She preferred such a grand entrance as opposed to the one she made on the coronation.
Several days earlier, she had talked to Professor Hugo, who remained skeptical of her invention.
"I'd suggest you focus on practicality, Elaine. Are you still dreaming of developing that flying machine?"
Elaine nodded. "It moves when I start up the engine."
"And how high did it go in the air?"
"Um..." Elaine scuffled the ground with her shoe. "A few yards, I guess."
"A few yards isn't going to do much for your goal, I'm afraid," Hugo said with a touch of sympathy. "What say you of assisting my project instead? It'll be easier to build and improve on a device that already exists, rather than inventing a completely original object."
"I know." This year, it was Linderall's turn to host the show and Elaine couldn't wait to go. James had written that she should come for a visit, but with Linderall being so far and her schoolwork so heavy, she hadn't a chance to visit yet.
Now, if it were anything but her darling project, Elaine would have accepted. But she didn't want to take the easy route. She wanted to see her beautiful machine fly into the Exhibition for everyone to see and admire.
Assisting Hugo would definitely make her life easier, but then the project wasn't her creation. She would only be known as the assistant, not the main developer.
Elaine did not say this out loud. "I thank you for the generous offer, Professor. But I'd rather continue with my project. There are still many methods I would like to experiment with."
Hugo smiled--a wee bit patronizingly. "Absolutely, my dear. If you insist. Although I am still doubtful about the odds, I look forward to seeing you succeed."
"All right," Elaine told herself, giving a final tug on the straps, making sure they were secure. "Time to take off!"
She started the engine. It roared, building up its power as seconds passed by. When she pressed on the start button, the sudden burst of gas emitting from the cylinder caused her entire body to jerk and wobble, but soon she steadied herself as she was borne to the sky.
Elaine whooped. The huge reduction in weight had worked. The wind whistled in her ears, the higher boughs of pine trees became clearer, and a swallow flew out of her way.
"I did it! I did it!"
She turned the handle. Her path changed from vertical to horizontal, veering to the right. She flew over the lake where the Academy pupils used to run around in the mornings, and over the archery courts with their numbered chalk lines for measuring distance. Over the raised stages where the hand combat instructor would hold mock duels.
The Academy main keep rose in sight. It did not look much different from the University buildings, but it housed much different material. Weapons, armor and trophies, and Lord Darwar's office held many books on war and instruction manuals. Elaine also knew he had a particularly large padlock on the office door, because she had broken in. Twice.
Elaine checked the gauge; the gas was running out. Reluctantly, she guided her machine to the rooftop. The last thing she needed was an unnecessary scramble for her parachute, not to mention destruction of the machine when it plummeted from her current location.
The rooftop was deserted. There used to be a telescope from one of the astrology professors, but when Thane received enough funding to build an observatory, few people came up here. There was nothing except for a view of the Academy and a long flight of winding stairs.
She landed, catching on the wall before she could come to a full stop. Elaine loosened her belt and stepped out. Fondly, she ran a hand over the machine, checking to ensure nothing was broken or cracked. What would Hugo say if he learned she had finally succeeded? Better yet, why not just fly to his office window and tap on the window pane?
"Little princess! LITTLE PRINCESS!"
Effie's voice, loud and desperate, echoed in the air. Her maid was running like a headless chicken across the vacant Academy courts, her hands shaped like a circle over her mouth.
Elaine rushed down the stairs two at a time.
"Effie! What happened?"
"There you are!" Effie flew towards her, caught her round the shoulders and started dragging her towards the palace. "Little princess, come quick! Oh dear, look at the state of your clothes! We must have you cleaned up right away!"
Elaine sensed pending doom ahead. "Oh Effie, don't tell me it's another party. Haven't most people gone home today?"
"Well, yes, but several young men have requested to take tea with you."
No. Not again. "I have to go and entertain them? Right now?"
Effie nodded, her curls bouncing. "They're all waiting in the dining room. His Majesty isn't pleased that you aren't in the palace, so we have to hurry."
"Why can't they wait until the Exhibition is over?" Elaine grumbled. "I haven't time to flirt and gossip now and I don't feel like seeing anyone."
"You know that's impossible! The journey to Linderall and back would take two months at least. Valeria tried to dissuade them, but they insisted on remaining. Particularly one named Owen Greenwood."
Elaine groaned. Of all suitors--he annoyed her most.
"There's another–an Amarantan noble–who insists on seeing you before he goes home. As you know, the queen and us are from Amaranta, so she couldn't very well refuse him. Especially when Amaranta is so far away."
"All right." They had reached her room by now, where Winifred and a herd of servants were waiting. Elaine sighed and held out her arms. "Please, make me pretty." Then she muttered under her breath, "or better yet, hideous."
But of course, it was not to be. Effie and Winifred had plenty of experience waiting on her. They stripped her of her mud-splattered clothes and slipped an apricot dress embroidered with flo
wers and pearls over her. While Effie braided her hair and secured it with bright ribbons, Winifred powdered her cheeks and fastened a diamond necklace around her slender white neck.
"There!" Effie finished by setting a sparkling tiara on Elaine's head. "Our princess is ready for her guests!"
"Don't look away or roll your eyes when the guests try to talk to you," Winifred warned. "And don't bore them with talk of the Three Laws of Physics or Master-What's-his-name's theory on geometry."
Elaine was tempted to say that Winifred's suggestion was excellent. Perhaps it would extinguish the ardor of that annoying Owen Greenwood.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Elaine had never enjoyed tea parties since she turned ten. The pies and pastries no longer interested her (she had outgrown them long ago) and making conversation to strangers or courtiers was always a tedious task. She would dip her finger in the chocolate pot and draw on her napkin, gaze out of the window and imagine she was outside, skipping over flat rocks in the pond.
Unfortunately, as the Rivieran princess, it was inevitable that she entertain guests. She liked the occasional visits from Prince Felipe of Tintagel, whose jolly manner and cheerful attitude made him an easy friend. There was a Makani noble who charmed her with his exotic adventures in the jungle, and even gave her a real Makani monkey as a birthday present. A pity she couldn't carry the monkey around on her shoulder like the Makani people and had to leave it to the royal menagerie.
But most of the time she had to receive some stiff-mannered Rivieran noble, who couldn't string together two sentences once he set eyes upon her. Now, as she surveyed the young men in the sitting room, that familiar feeling of distaste and unwillingness returned. The elation at her success with her flying machine had evaporated completely, and were it not for Ralph and Valeria, she would have turned on her glittering heels and fled.
