Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Ch. 32: When it Rains...

The sun has just risen over the sky as I find myself cocooned in the warmth of the kitchen, Emma faithfully standing by my side. I haven’t received the bad news, nor will I receive it for a while, so my smile is easy and unrestrained as I watch the pastries rise in the oven.

“Careful, your highness, you’ll burn ya hands if you press ’em up against the glass like that,” Emma cautions behind me. The glass is indeed scalding hot and I separate from it, only to pull my finished delicacy from the old-fashioned oven that took me a good half-hour to figure out how to operate.

Emma peers in wonder over my creation, a dish I know for certain she has never seen before. There is little time to waste as Emma wraps a thin cloak around my shoulders to block the morning chill as we exit Rose Palace. The sun is just peeking over the silvery roof of my palace, gradually illuminating our path as we not so subtlely sneak out of my residence. It’s the perfect time for a jailbreak since Finn’s shift doesn’t start until 9 am, around the time I usually awaken in my comfy bed.

“Good morning, Sirs!” I say enthusiastically to the two guards stoically guarding the exit.

“Good morning, your highness,” they reply, their low voices in sync. I giggle as I walk past them, not meeting the slightest bit of resistance. I’m fortunate some guards are too nervous to actually enforce my grounding within Rose Palace.

“You know the way, don’t you?” I ask Emma almost in a whisper as the white gate of my palace disappears behind us.

She gives me a sneaky look, then sticks her hand out. I’ve long come to terms with what it means.

“Greedy!” I grumble under my breath as I fish out a gold coin and toss it at her playfully. With a trick of her hand, it disappears, alluding to Emma’s no doubt fascinating background.

.....

Like one of the one-quarter rides outside of grocery stores, the payment reaps immediate results. Emma’s steps hasten, turning down one corridor and the next until I’m utterly lost. The basket of treats on my arm tickles my nose with its enticing aroma, reminding me I’ve only had one treat that I taste-tested to make sure it came out just right. The smell reaches Emma as well, for she turns to me with a pleading look in my eye.

“Can I ‘ave one, your highness?” she asks with a hopeful expression. I let out an undignified chortle.

“Sure,” I start, leaning in conspiratorially, “If you promise to give back the payment from earlier.”

The joy that had been blooming on her face drops and Emma starts walking even faster despite knowing how hard it was for me to keep up with her. I was already planning on sharing one with her once we reach our destination, but the speed we are traveling makes me swallow my words in exchange for an extra gasp of air. By the time the outdoor stone floor transforms into dewy blades of grass, my lungs are burning and begging me to slow down. Just how large is the imperial palace?

We stop suddenly and I nearly spill the contents of the wicker basket I borrowed from the kitchen after relieving it of its previous burden. I open my mouth to chide Emma, but she beats me to the punch.

“Can you hear it?” she asks, her eyes gaining a dreamlike quality as if she were speaking of her true love.

Closing my mouth, I too listen over the bird’s chirping and the soft whistle of the wind to hear a familiar clang of metal. I smile joyfully and grab Emma’s hand.

“You are true to your word, Emma! We’ve made it!”

Emma blushes at my sudden praise, as she always does whenever I say something kind to her. She must not have many people to properly cherish her in her childhood so as her older, but physically younger friend, it’s my responsibility to fulfill that role.

There is a hill blocking the view, but there is no mistaking our location. We have arrived at the royal guard’s training ground.

Traipsing up the hill hand in hand, we reach the top to look over the shallow valley hundreds of men in various states of undress are sparring. The sea of grass isn’t endless. In the distance, my eye can easily make out the barrier of the gate that surrounds the entire palace and a faint aroma of horse manure covers the area, making me wrinkle my nose.

Emma spots my small action. “Your highness, this is where them palace horses graze.”

I nod in acknowledgment. Our sudden arrival has drawn a few eyes, but I am not familiar with any. I wrinkle my brow, trying to spot the familiar shock of blonde hair, but Finn is not anywhere to be seen. In one of our short conversations that occurred when I took walks around my residence, the young knight mentioned that he was fond of sparring before taking up his guard duty.

“Your highness!” an eagle-eyed royal guard said, sweat dripping from his forehead to the grass below as he folds into a bow. His words were a signal to the entire battalion on the field and the clang of metal dulled into silence as a hundred eyes landed on poor, little me.

I feel a bead of sweat tumble down the side of my head despite the morning chill. No pressure, just a hundred or so unfriendly eyes trained on me. These sons of noble aristocrats must have a good idea of where I stand as a bastard and in relation to the emperor. If they were to snub me today, no one would find fault in their actions.

Heaving out a long breath, I trot down the hill with my basket in hand and holding Emma’s hand in the other. I took special care with my outfit to look even more helpless and cute than usual. My white hair is in two pigtails, the yellow ribbons perfectly matching the yellow dress under. A stuffed bunny toy peeks out of my basket, even though I have no interest in playing, to further add to my look. Coupled with the bright red of my cloak, I feel like a miniature version of Little Red Riding Hood as I come to a stop before the original guard who had first greeted me.

“Good morning, I’m Winter!” I squeak in a chipper childlike tone.

“I am Sir Gregory, your highness. Do you have a request to make of me?” Sir Gregory asks, pushing back his long, dark locks with a well-muscled arm. The newly arrived sun glitters off his sweaty torso, crisscrossed with old scars, and I try not to let my thoughts run away from me.

Why are so many of these knights shirtless? Why are so many of them so... hot?

I curse my luck at being reborn as a few months old baby rather than teenage Winter. I’m surrounded by GQ models and single since Jonathan cheated on me, but I can’t do anything since I’m stuck as a child. Letting out all my frustration in a long exhale, I console my heart by reminding myself that I can still admire these fine specimens from afar.

In my shock, I haven’t responded to Sir Gregory, causing him to go down on one knee before me to better interact.

“Princess?” he asks, his handsome face inches from mine the high arch of brows framing kind eyes.

Redness stains my cheeks and I look down shuffling my feet.

“Actually, I brought a gift for you all... since you’re working so hard...”

I’m awkward and stuttering, even though I practiced my lines in front of the mirror before coming. But in the face of all these knights, a shyness I didn’t know I possessed seizes my form, turning me into a bumbling version of myself.

I shove the basket in front of me, my cheeks getting even redder at the stuffed animal. Now the prop just feels silly and contrived, making me feel even more of a fool in front of these adults. Conveniently, a gentle breeze sweeps by, dragging off the checkered fabric that covered my treats and carrying the aroma through the group of curious knights.

“What is that?” someone asks, not rudely, from the crowd.

There are long fried sticks of dough, covered in sugar, a tantalizing cinnamon fragrance wafted from them. Inwardly I smirk to myself. This is a treat none of them have ever seen before, but I can already guarantee they’ll love it. After all, who doesn’t like churros?

“They called churros. I-I made them myself!” The scent has a few men creeping closer, but none of them take the extra leap and snag a piece for themselves. My grip on the basket’s handle tightens, whitening my knuckles to the color of a sheet of paper. If none of them bother to try one, I’ll never be able to show my face around the palace again. Perhaps it was too presumptuous of me to create a snack that does not exist in this world.

I start pleading in my heart for someone, anyone, to just try a churro. Even for my final exams in college, I have never felt so stressed about something.

Within the crowd of knights that have surrounded me in a semi-circle, I see some jostling at my 3:00 and light swearing as someone cuts through like grass. It’s a younger lad, right around Finn’s age or even younger with a bright smattering of freckles that makes him look even younger.

“I don’t know about you lot,” he announces loudly as he liberally grabs two churros, “But I am sick and tired of the slop they feed us every morning in the army kitchen.”

“Thank you, little lady,” he says with a wink that is more playful than seductive, marching off with his booty.

Watching the little upstart march away with his share, it is the catalyst that sends men rushing towards my basket. I’m jostled almost to the point of tumbling over as 120 churros I painstakingly made are pilfered in seconds.

“Gentle!” Sir Gregory says as he warns his companions. They pay him little heed and the jostling barely softens.

As quickly as they moved in, the step back, squinting at the brown stick treat in their hands before taking huge, manly bites off the top. Their expressions go from shock to contemplation, before settling on a surprised grin.

“This- This is actually good!”

“That’s right, men! I’ve never seen anything like this, but it’s the best damn thing I’ve eaten in a while,” another agrees.

“Blimey! We shouldn’t have let that little bugger walk away with two. Then I could have gotten one!” complains a chubby knight in the back with a sour expression. He watches his companions wolf down their churros in seconds before wistfully staring at their hand that once had such a good dessert.

My basket is entirely empty, but I can see people eyeing it hungrily for seconds. There are no more, save for the one in my free hand I hand to Emma. She chows down like a dog on a bone, turning to me with a satisfied expression with sugary crumbs around her mouth.

A knight steps out from the crowd, a cheerful smile on his face.

“Thank you, your highness, for your special dessert,” he says. I smile back, pleased that my gamble has paid off.

“It was nothing. If you would like, next time I am free, I will visit again with food.”

Gregory butts in with an apologetic tone. “Your highness, we don’t dare ask you to humble yourself to bake for us. Just for this treat today, we are grateful.”

His glib tongue is pleasing to the ear and I smile wider.

“No worries Sir Gregory, I like cooking for you! Besides, as a princess, I don’t have much else to do. It is much more fun to do this.”

“You are too kind, your highness. We are undeserving of this.” The knights all drop into a bow with their fist over their heart, the salute of the royal guard. I quickly request for them to stand, the pleased feeling in my heart better than any high. Whoever said that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach is not wrong in the slightest.

“I hope you don’t mind if I visit more. Watching you fight is so impressive!” I say, hamming on a bit of praise to the distinguished fighters before me.

The mild hostility from before has dispelled completely, leaving a warm atmosphere as a few knights salute me before returning to their sparring. Gregory turns to leave as well, but as the most vocal of the knights I’ve spoken to, I have a few questions for him.

“Sir Gregory?” I call to his retreating back.

The knight turns around to look at me and I sheepishly twirl my fingers.

“Do you know where Sir Finn is? He told me that he usually spars in the morning but I haven’t seen him anywhere,” I ask in a singsongy voice, truly playing the part of a 5-year-old kid to perfection.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Sir Gregory says, a little sympathy in his eyes.

I can tell he’s about to divulge something substantial so I hold my breath to brace for it, but the impact still leaves me quaking.

“Sir Finn left this morning with His Majesty. They have gone to quell a rebellion in Avernall, Sir Finn’s home province, so he was brought along.”

“R-Really?” I ask, in complete shock.

“Yes. Along with Sir Finn, several of our brothers have also left with his majesty, so there is only a handful of us left today.”

My eyes nearly bug out of my head. My father, gone, along with my sworn knight, Sir Finn? A thousand possibilities rush through my head, none of them good. When the cat’s away, the mice will play. That embarrassment I rendered upon Julia, I know with a grim certainty that it will be paid back, a hundredfold.

“Princess Winter? Your highness?” I escape the daze of my impending doom to realize that Sir Gregory has been calling my name.

“My apologies, sir,” I say dropping into a respectful curtsey. “I was... distracted by my thoughts. I’ll leave you to your practice now. Good day, all of you!”

The last sentence I say slightly louder so that everyone on the field can hear me and I get an enthusiastic response, people pausing their matches to wave back in a friendly manner. I’ve achieved what I came to do: begin to cultivate a friendship with the subtly influential royal guard. But trudging back up the hill, I know this is the equivalent of taking one step forward before being forced back two steps.

“The snack was delicious!” Emma says with almost as much energy as when she speaks of money.

“I’m glad you liked it. I will make some more for you another day,” I promise in a lukewarm tone.

Sensing my sudden drop of mood, Emma speaks no more, guiding me back to the Rose Palace where even worse news awaits me.

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