kscans

Chapter 6 - Daybreak

Granted an unexpected reprieve, the girl spent the night disposing of her few belongings. The new king, she reasoned, likely intended to bury everything in darkness. If he were to publicly execute her as a princess, there would be no need for a small-scale surprise attack like this. He could simply overwhelm them with military force and execute her, the central figure, for all to see. She could only guess at the reasons why he didn't, but in any case, the girl knew she had to erase any trace that a princess had lived here.

She threw everything into the fire: the many books on culture, so out of place in the house of a village chief; the writings left by her nursemaid; the letters from Karen’s father. Then she opened the beautifully crafted letter box her mother had supposedly brought with her when she married. Inside lay a single piece of paper on which her name was written, signed by her biological father. A name no one had ever called her until today, when the boy’s voice, clear and dignified, had etched it into her soul.

"Angelica Fermi Baltus… my name…"

She traced the name on the paper with her finger, reading it aloud as if to confirm it. The girl had finally, truly claimed the first gift ever given to her.

But she had no time to bask in the emotion. The ultimate proof of her royal status was consumed by the fireplace flames in an instant. The letter box, her only memento of her mother, was also thrown into the fire. Finally, she opened the lonely wardrobe filled with nothing but black. The black dresses from her childhood, now too small, were still there. One by one, she fed them to the fire, thinking of her nursemaid. Though she had never been given warm affection, her nursemaid had constituted more than half of her world. Her nursemaid had taught her everything. And those teachings, ironically, had shown the girl what a princess ought to be.

Born a princess, one must be proud and resolute.

As a ruler of the people, one must put their well-being first, kill one’s own desires, and remain aloof.

She had been told stories repeatedly: of how royalty should be, of the Wise King who enriched the country, of the prince who defended it from invasion, and of the wise queen who saved her king from crisis with her quick wit and wisdom.

Her nursemaid had been very strict, and very intelligent. And yet, like a stubborn fool, she had relentlessly drilled into the girl the need to bring judgment upon the rebels, repeating it like a curse until the very end.

Why? It was a question no one would likely ever answer for her. Even the nursemaid herself probably didn't have an answer.

The nursemaid who never gave her warm affection. The nursemaid who never even called her by name. And yet, the girl had certainly loved her. Had longed for her love. Had the nursemaid loved her, even a little? Did she know that the girl had loved her? Probably not. She had died without knowing, without even trying to know. With a touch of sorrow at this thought, the girl continued to burn the black mourning dresses.

Forbidden from crying, forbidden from laughing aloud, she had worn a mask of "nobility" over her hollow heart, trapped in a small, enclosed cage. The girl had simply let things happen, waiting for someone to end her life. And now that someone had finally come, called her name, and breathed life into her.

What the girl discovered in the face of death was the trembling joy of being alive.

And the relief of being able to die as a "princess."

When dawn broke, the boy visited the girl’s room. She was already dressed and ready in the same gloomy black dress as yesterday. The boy scowled and opened the wardrobe in her room. But there wasn't a single dress to be found.

"Do you have no other dresses?"

"I do not. As I am to die today, this one is sufficient."

"I do not care for that dreary black."

"Even if you say so, mourning clothes are all I have ever worn since I came of age to understand."

At the meaning behind her words, the boy stared at the girl in astonishment. Indeed, the dress enveloped her so perfectly, it was as if it were her own skin, a complete and finished thing.

"…You’ve never worn anything but black?"

"No."

The girl’s hair, though well-combed, was unbound, flowing down her back like a golden waterfall as she answered nonchalantly.

"Do you have no accessories? A hair clasp?"

"I do not. I have no need for anything other than jewels befitting a princess."

The remark could have been taken as arrogant, but the boy understood its true meaning and was stunned.

Since she was old enough to remember, she had worn nothing but mourning clothes and possessed not a single ornament to adorn herself. Even poor peasant girls dressed up for festivals, yet this girl claimed to have never once had such an experience.

"Even in a hidden village, you must have a New Year’s festival. Do you dress like that even then?"

"Yes. In fact, I have never been outside."

The boy felt dizzy as the girl answered so matter-of-factly. It wasn’t unheard of for a sheltered young lady or a princess to have never left her residence or palace. But they could still go into the garden, or summon an orchestra. Even without going out, their lives were not without comfort or free from terrible boredom.

But this girl claimed to have never left this crude house, barely worthy of the name residence, belonging to the chief of a small, joyless hidden village.

"Have you truly never walked outside?"

"No. Though I wished to when I was little."

"Why did you not go out?"

"To go outside and associate with lowly people is an act lacking in awareness for a princess."

There was no emotion in the girl’s eyes as she spoke calmly. The boy didn't think she was looking down on the villagers as her words suggested. No, perhaps she didn’t even have enough interest to look down on them. The boy glanced at the only window in the room. It wasn’t very large. From that window, the girl, as a child, must have wished to go outside. Must have wished to play with the other village children. Someone had forbidden it. And at some point, the girl’s heart had died.

On impulse, the boy seized the girl’s hand and, ignoring her bewildered state, tried to pull her outside. As he reached the entrance, he met strong resistance. He turned back to see the girl trembling, her face rigid with fear.

"Come. It was our promise, to spend this last day with me."

At his words, the girl, though still afraid, took a single step outside.