Butterfly Knight: A Prequel to The Doll Queen
Lotus Rose
Published by Lotus Rose at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 by Lotus Rose
Discover other titles by Lotus Rose at loteyrose.com
Books by Lotus Rose~ The Corruption of Innocence, MachoPoni: A Prance with Death, The Redemption of Reckoning, SinEaster, Faerie Brace-Face, The Doll Queen
When the barbarians rode in, they brought their destruction for no other reason than infatuation. The barbarian leader, you see, had a fixation upon me. My name is Faelwen. I am a female knight in the service of the Teddy Bear Queen. Please do not judge me to be conceited. It is simply a fact that when the former king sent his scouts out to find the most beautiful girl in all the kingdom, it was I who was chosen. I was an orphan, so the king took me under his wing. When he died, his young daughter became queen, and she encouraged me to become a knight. And so, because of my beauty, I was given the opportunity to become a warrior. But no, I am not vain. I am much more proud of my fighting skills, which I acquired from years of concentrated practice.
In the days before the invasion, word came that if the barbarian leader conquered us, he planned to storm the castle and find me and force his kisses upon me. He said that he fell in love with me by gazing upon a painting in another castle he’d conquered. But I did not know if he mocked, or what such an animal would know of love. For he was a cold, heartless murderer. He and his army had slaughtered defenseless prisoners of war, had murdered women and children. Had burned villages to the ground.
And yet, in words oddly gentle, he proclaimed to have fallen in love with me—though he had never even met me. He did have a messenger deliver a letter to me, though. He wished to woo me—to show me the side of him “outside the savagery of war” and he claimed to be quite sincere. He included a drawing of his ugly face.
I was nothing but disgusted and felt I was dealing with either a madman or a person highly skilled in the art of mockery. Perhaps he had a tenuous grip upon reality—they said he was a drug fiend, who constantly sought the dreams of the lotus flower. In any case, because of the barbarian’s obsession with me, our queen forbade me to fight alongside my comrades lest I be captured, thus fulfilling the barbarian’s desires. I was ordered to flee battle if I could, and though I found the idea repulsive, it was my duty to obey.
The day the barbarians invaded, of course our kingdom fought. We felt our forces were strong, with a good chance of success. But we had our setbacks. Our opponents employed dark magic to aid them. Two of our commanders defected, due to a demon who tricked them by preying upon their vices. And our court magician had lost his life two days previous, killed by the demon as he tried to drive it away. This unsettled me, for a day before his death, I’d had a strange encounter with the magician. He’d requested to see me. He’d touched me on my shoulder, said he’d planted me with a “sense that would help guide me to my destiny and the use of my gift. But he told me no more.
With the aid of their demon, the barbarians began to overwhelm our defenses.
I had to flee the castle as the barbarians stormed in. How they gained entrance so quickly, I still do not know, but I suspect magic. I prayed that our queen would be safe. I had no time to don any armor before I fled—I wore only riding pants and a short-sleeved shirt. I did grab my sword, though.
I barely escaped. As I was fleeing, I saw the barbarian leader amongst a group of the barbarian invaders. He was carrying a bloodied sword. He had a gash on his face, running down his cheek and disappearing beneath his beard.
Our eyes met, then he winked at me, before engaging a group of the royal guard. I learned later that all of them were killed—they gave their lives to allow my escape.
As I fled, I passed the oracle, which was more like a pool of water that occasionally spouted words of wisdom and prophesies. The oracle was usually silent, but earlier that day, it had whispered something to me.
I had much time to ponder its words in the hours that followed.
I ran alone into the secret escape tunnel, built decades ago. The passageway let out from the ground beside a large oak tree. I wandered for a short time through the forest.
I had time to consider the last words the oracle had to reveal to me while I wandered.
Earlier that day, I had asked the oracle how I could possibly kill the barbarian leader. It had whispered, “The barbarian leader will either die from the kiss of the female knight, upon the night of their invasion, or he shall die from old age, still upon the throne.”
So I pondered the oracle’s words. I was a female knight. I was repelled by the thought of kissing that repugnant butcher, but I was willing to do anything to kill him. I didn’t know how a kiss would be so deadly, though. Magic, perhaps.
Magic can either be a great boon or a curse. I would rather not be involved with it at all. But I must admit, I have been smiled upon with the gift of magic before. The court magician, shortly after I first arrived at the court, declared that my great beauty would shape my destiny. He said he saw things in my future, things he could not speak of, and he felt the need to cast a spell on my behalf.
And that is how I came to be immune to all poisons, a fact that has spared me a great deal of danger and discomfort throughout my life. I have been stung by venomous insects. And once, I was grazed by a jealous girl’s arrow that I later learned was tipped with poison, but the poison had no effect. The arrow left a small scar on my shoulder, though. To my knowledge, I have never eaten poisoned food, but I would not have noticed, anyway.
My imperviousness to poison was soon to be relevant. You shall see.
So, yes, I was wandering the forest. I felt oddly drawn to lie down at the base of a hill, beside a rotting stump overrun with lichen.
Then something caught my eye—a point of light where there shouldn’t have been light. I peered at the light. By sifting my hands through the layer of leaves, I soon discovered that a rusted iron door was set in the side of the hill. After a few moments, I discovered the hooped handle on its right side. I did not hesitate to tug on it, because I felt I was meant to be there, meant to find it.
The door opened upon a large interior room inside the hill, buttressed by great dark brown beams of wood. I gazed at the odd torches lining the walls. They were wavering with flames producing no smoke. I was immediately reminded of the torches of our court magician, which produced neither smoke nor heat. Could it be? Could this be his secret home in the forest? No one had ever found it, no matter how hard they tried. A few had wanted him dead, throughout the many centuries of his life, and had sought out his home in order to kill him. But it was said that his abode was protected by magic, so that, rather than find it, anyone approaching its location would begin to walk in circles, unaware they were doing so.
With a twinge of sadness, I realized that if it was his secret residence, he would never return to it. He was actually a kind man, though we often bickered.
I gazed out upon the room. It was modestly furnished, but quite large. Huge bookcases with a ladder lined one wall. It was clear that the room was much too large to fit inside the small hill—magic must have been involved somehow.
The room was filled with various odd relics. I assumed they were there to aid the magician in his spells and magic. I will not go into a lengthy description, though.
I took a few minutes to explore the place. I found the bathroom. There was a bed that I could sleep in, if necessary. I was walking about, when I came upon a table sitting behind a large statue of a discus thrower, oddly enough. On the table was a shiny metal butterfly resting in front of a potted purple flower inside a glass cover.
Before even thinking, I lifted my hand toward the knob on top of the cover.
That is when the steel butterfly flew up from the table, flying toward my face, causing me to flinch back. The butterfly did not hit me, but swooped quite close.
Then I heard a voice inside my head, projected by some sort of magic. It was a female voice shouting, “Halt! Come no further!”
I gasped. I could somehow sense that the words came from the butterfly.
I took a few steps backward and put my hand upon the hilt of my sword, prepared to draw. Of course, I had no armor on, but I hoped the butterfly was a minor threat. The butterfly fluttered in the air, gliding and making circles. I wondered how the metal could be lifted upon the air in that manner.
I called out, “Is that you speaking to me, butterfly?”
“Yes. I can project my thoughts into your mind in this enchanted area. I am Teresa, butterfly knight. I am the guardian of the lotus flower.”
“It’s a lotus?”
“Yes, one of the most potent breeds. I am its guard. Do not attempt to lift its cover or I shall be forced to attack and I would rather not kill you.”
Now, I must say that the butterfly’s voice inside my head sounded just as sincere as a touchy royal guard—the voice even had a convincing touch of menace. But I found myself laughing, though I did not mean to. I really believe that all of the stresses of the prior days sought their relief, bringing forth a crazy sounding sort of giggle that threatened to turn into tears.
“Do not laugh!” the butterfly mentally-shouted. “I am deadly!”
I found it difficult to stop, but after a few more giggles, I managed to, while holding my free hand to my side, my other hand still upon my sword hilt. I said, “I’m sorry. I believe the events of the past few days have jarred my sanity somewhat. I apologize.” I bowed.
The butterfly free-fell from the height of my eyes to my midchest. I somehow sensed that the gesture was meant to portray a bow. “I accept your apology. You must know that I wish you no ill. I am bound by the magician’s magic to defend the lotus flower. His idea of a cruel joke…”
Her words puzzled me. Was this some sort of regretful, hesitant attack-butterfly? I internally debated about informing her that the magician was dead. Perhaps, I thought, the magician held some sort of sway that compelled the butterfly to guard the flower, and if the magician were dead, that sway would be lifted. But I also wondered about this glorious “prize” of the lotus flower.
Now, make no mistake. I am hardly a prude. But due to the spell cast on me by the magician, I am immune not only to poisons, but to all intoxicants as well. Alcohol may burn my tongue and throat, but it does not get me drunk. Nothing ingested or snorted or smoked has any effect on me, so you must forgive my ignorance. But I have been around many altered persons, and they do seem to enjoy themselves, though they often behave in ways I cannot understand, not in keeping with their character.
In any case, I had no desire to attain the flower, and that’s what I told the butterfly.
The butterfly said, “Yes, well my prowess is great, and I might have killed you, but the magician did say that in the next couple of days might come someone who could defeat me. Perhaps you are she?”
Now I felt truly puzzled, because the butterfly’s voice actually sounded hopeful, as if she wished to be defeated. I said, “Perhaps I am. You should know that I am a knight. And you should also know that the magician has died. He was killed defending our kingdom.”
After a pause, Teresa said, “I see. Yet his magic still binds me. But perhaps this is the day that I shall break the spell and find my rest…”
“What do you mean?” I said. I made a point of taking my hand from my sword and relaxing my posture. It was risky, but I did not sense the butterfly wanted to attack me. Taking its cue from me, the butterfly landed upon the table, then stood. With a sad voice, she said, “Many years ago, I first came to this room…as an assassin.”
I gasped. “Why did you want to kill the magician?”
“No, no. I did not come to kill him. I came for the flower. Underneath one of its leaves are the last eggs of a species of moth my own species was at war with…”
I looked to the flower, as if I might see the eggs, but I did not.
The butterfly continued. “Our two species had battled for many centuries—for so long, that the original reason we began had been forgotten. Over the centuries, there was much death, much mayhem. And the blood trickled down the flowers like rain. Many brave and skilled warriors there were on both sides. We all grew up in cultures of war, our whole society built around fighting. We developed weaponry and armor. You can see the armor I wear, formed of an ultralight metal, that allows me to fly, but is still extremely strong, and sharp, with razor-edged wings. I am the greatest of the butterfly knights. And the last.”
She seemed to be lost in sorrow, so I gently prodded her, “What do you mean?”
“Both the butterflies and the moths suffered great casualties. Eventually our numbers dwindled to small numbers. It came to be that I was the last of my kind left. The moths even destroyed all our eggs. I fought the remaining moths, and eventually I fought the last of their kind, the greatest of their warriors. He was a proud and capable knight—a worthy opponent. He died an honorable death when I defeated him.”
I nodded. “So your side won.”
“Yes, but the price was high. I was the only one left. And all our eggs had been destroyed. So I became consumed with rage, seeking revenge for my race. We have our ways of seeking out eggs. I sought the moth eggs out and destroyed them. I thought that if I destroyed them all, that would mean victory…”
“And so you came here to destroy those eggs, but the magician stopped you…”
“Yes, as I’m sure you know, the lotus is a mystical flower, best to be avoided, if you ask me. It shapes and twists things in ways I do not understand. And so it happened, that the last eggs of the moth race were fastened to that flower. And it happened that by a series of strange occurrences, the flower ended up here in the magician’s home. He put it beneath the glass to keep its scent from intoxicating him. The flower keeps everything inside, asleep. If the eggs were taken out and transferred, they would hatch as if they were laid yesterday, to become glorious larvae.”
“Glorious?”
“Yes. You see, I have had a great deal of time to think about things these past hundreds of years. When I first came here, the magician felt it would be quite funny to use his magic to force me to guard the lotus. Ironically, I would be defending the very race I had sought to destroy. Also ironic is the fact that once I’m defeated, the spell would cease, and I would be released, but then my unnaturally extended life would come to an end. But as I’ve said, I’ve had the time to reflect, and I now feel that I would gladly lay down my life, if it meant the moth eggs could be released from their slumber and allowed to hatch. They could begin their race anew, unimpeded by war. War brings only destruction and pain.”
“But how can you allow your enemy to prosper?”
“Because there is an end to all things. I am the last of my kind, living in winter. When I am gone, let spring begin. We are both winged beings after all.”
So I said to the butterfly, “I believe I was destined to come here, destined to meet you. And I would like to honor your wishes and move the moth eggs to another location, and allow them to hatch.”
“If you attempt to lift that glass I have no choice but to fight you, but I would gladly die today if you promise that you will relocate those moth eggs if you win.”
“I promise you,” I replied. I wasn’t sure what to do next. So I took a step toward the table.
The butterfly knight flew up from the table, shouted, “Halt! If you proceed any further, I shall be forced to fight you!”
I drew my sword, then took another step. The butterfly zoomed toward my head, and I had to dodge in order to avoid being hit. We squared off.
The butterfly kept zooming through the air, trying to strike me, then circling back. It was difficult to dodge an opponent so small and fast, and my opponent drew first blood: the slash of her razor-sharp wing on my wrist caused the blood to spurt out from the vein. But the cut was far from fatal. Over the next few minutes, she swooped and slashed me—several more times on my arms and once on my neck—so that my blood dripped upon the floor. I tried many times to strike her with my sword, but I struck only once, knocking off her helmet. I was hoping she would grow tired and slower, so that another of my blows might strike true.
But it was I who grew tired…and disoriented. After all, I’d had a rough day, and at that point was shedding quite a bit of blood. But enough excuses. I managed to lose track of my worthy opponent. And well, in a masterfully executed move, the butterfly bounced a ray of light off her shiny wing right into my eyes, temporarily blinding me. Then the butterfly swooped up and kissed me on the lips—but the kiss was a bite. I felt the painful puncture on the skin of that delicate area.
Teresa shouted, “You are killed!” then performed a large swoop upward and back.
She circled in front of me expectantly. I stood poised expecting her to attack again.
In a confused voice, she said, “Why do you not die? My kiss is poison!”
That is when I explained to her how the magician had made me immune to poison early in my life. As I talked, Teresa landed upon the table. “Ah,” she said, suddenly sounding weak, “the magician was up to his tricks back then, too. My poison is one of the deadliest known in the world. Unfortunately for me, when I release it, it weakens me severely. I’m afraid I can no longer fight you. I doubt that I can even fly. I must concede defeat to you. And so, by fulfilling the conditions of the magician’s spell, I may finally rest. Ah, and now I can feel time catching up with me, and I feel death coming soon.”
At Teresa’s words, I grew so sad for her, but then I was struck by a sudden idea. So I said to her, “The moth eggs have been kept asleep for centuries you said, by the lotus’s enchantment. What if you were to sit beside the lotus and let me put the cover back on?”
“Well, I would go into sleep, frozen in time, in a sense…”
“You wouldn’t die?”
“No.”
“May I?”
“Yes…you’ll transfer the moth eggs?”
“Of course.”
And so I lifted the glass. And the lotus’s luxurious aroma wafted into my lungs like a soothing cloud. But it had no intoxicating effects on me. I have known a fellow knight who took his own life rather than go without the lotus’s effects. But I felt nothing more than the joy a fine perfume provides.
Teresa weakly flitted to rest at the base of the plant, upon the soil. After a few moments, she said, “I feel the dreams coming on. I feel…warm. Do you not feel anything?”
“No,” I replied, and I actually felt quite envious.
“Well, then you are indeed the right person for this task. I wonder, did the magician design it this way, or was the magician merely playing his role in destiny?”
“Perhaps we shall never know,” I replied. “But now that we are speaking of destinies, perhaps you will be able to aid me. We have an oracle, which told me that the barbarian may only die tonight, by a female knight’s kiss, or not until he is old. Might you know what it means?”
“Hah! Of course! You are a female knight, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps you underestimated the power of my poison. It is still upon your lips. Though it may not harm you, it lingers on you. Anyone you’d kiss would die. But know that the poison upon your lips will only last a few hours.”
“Ah,” I said, “it all seems to come together. I only have a few hours to follow the path that has been set out for me…to kiss the barbarian…and he has said my kiss was the whole reason he invaded our kingdom in the first place!”
I found the moth eggs beneath one of the lotus leaves and carefully transferred them to the edge of my sword. The butterfly wished me luck before I put her to sleep by replacing the cover over the flower. Then I left the magician’s home, closing the door, intending to never reveal its location and to let the butterfly knight sleep in peace. It was already growing dark outside.
I took a few minutes to find a suitable plant, then I transferred the moth eggs, hoping they would hatch successfully on their own.
Then I tossed my sword and set out to get myself captured. If the barbarian leader wanted my kiss, I would give it to him and assassinate him with it. Of course, I knew I would probably lose my life shortly after, but I was willing to make that sacrifice.
I walked into town. The enemy’s men were on the lookout for me. They had small reproductions of the painting of me on pieces of paper. I told them I wished to speak to the barbarian leader in person, to bargain with him on behalf of my people.
And so, they shackled my hands behind my back. They brought me to him, handed off the keys to him, then left me alone with him. He made a point of meeting me in the throne room, sitting in the throne. He was a vulgar, disgusting creature, bearded, wearing outlandish clothes.
In his lap sat a beheaded teddy bear. He informed me that the Child Queen had left it behind, when she’d fled. He would sit on the throne with it to mock her, he said, grinning with brown teeth.
I asked him, “Where is the teddy bear’s head?”
“The demon has left with it to I know not where. But good riddance to him. He was a bad servant anyway.”
I gazed at him in hatred and he looked at me in lust.
I said to him, “I am told you invaded our kingdom merely to get to me, to kiss me.”
“Yes,” he said as he stood up. He set the bear to sit upon the throne. He looked me up and down. “You have fresh wounds, but you are still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And a great warrior. You would make a good mother for one of my children.”
I tried to hide my disgust. “If I do as you wish, if I provide you the use of my body, will you leave my people alone?”
He nodded. “Yes. By my word, I guarantee it.”
I did not believe him. But I said to him, “Then come to me. We shall start with a kiss. Please be gentle.”
He took a couple steps toward me, raising his arms slightly as if he meant to embrace me, but then his arms slumped. He said, “The barbarian leader will either die from the kiss of the female knight, upon the night of their invasion, or he shall die from old age, still upon the throne.”
I shook my head, feigning ignorance. “What?”
“That’s what the oracle told me.” He drew his sword. “There shall be no kissing tonight, female knight. But we shall see if this is the day you take on my child.”
I tried to appear relaxed, though I was prepared to struggle. I thought I might somehow plant a kiss upon him by force.
But he stopped a short distance away from me, then said, “Or perhaps I shall simply wait until tomorrow. The oracle warned of this day only. I know it may be a torture for you, but you will have to wait a day to feel my lips upon yours.” He sniffed at the air. “What is that perfume you’re wearing? Why it smells almost like…” A look of desire came over his features. “…the lotus.” He leaned a little closer. “I can smell it in your hair. Do you carry any with you?”
In his voice I could hear the urgency of an addict. The rumors, it seemed, were true. Before me stood someone who was a slave to his desire for his drug, and I sought to exploit that desire however I could.
“No,” I said. “I recently came from our former magician’s home, and saw the flower there. I inhaled its scent to give me the courage to face you tonight.”
“It smells so potent…” He licked his lips.
“Oh yes, it was magnificent.” Then I licked my own lips.
“Is this magician’s home close?”
“Yes.”
“You must take me there, tonight.”
“Why must I?”
“If you do, I will release you.”
I pretended to believe him. He was so consumed by his desire for the drug, he was not thinking straight. He feared that others might attempt to steal the lotus from him, so he decided to sneak out alone with me—out through the secret tunnel.
He brought one of the magician’s torches. He walked behind me so I couldn’t kiss him. I felt his rank breath upon the back of my neck beneath my ponytail. I led him toward the hill. My special sense was still in effect, so I was able to find the door despite how dark it was. He pushed me inside. I pointed with my chin to the flower. He set the torch down, then rushed over.
He stared at the lotus beneath the glass. He began to circle it and he was laughing madly, as I walked up to witness his adoration. He did not comment upon the butterfly knight. Perhaps he did not even notice her. He pointed at the lotus. “Oh, it is so beautiful,” he said. “Note the wine-colored red on the tip of the petals. I have heard of this particular breed, but I never imagined I would encounter it. Oh, it shall be glorious. They say that it is the greatest high there is. Oh, I shall relish this…” He set his hand atop the glassy knob, he leaned in close, he lifted it and inhaled. He moaned in pleasure. He made an easy target, because he wasn’t expecting the attack. Teresa arced up and planted her deadly kiss upon his lips—he lifted his hand to his mouth in dazed shock. The cover fell back over the flower.
Teresa fluttered weakly a few moments before crashing into the ground and lying still.
The barbarian looked around dumbly for a few moments. He moaned in pleasure, grinned, then crumpled to the ground.
When I went to them, I found they were both dead. I found the keys in his pocket, and after some fumbling, managed to free myself.
I beheaded the barbarian with his own sword. At first, I wasn’t sure what to do with the butterfly knight’s body, but then I made my decision. I wished her a restful death, then set her beneath the glass next to the lotus.
I left the magician’s room and no one has been able to locate it again, though many have tried. I have even tried, myself.
The next day, the head of the barbarian was flung into the castle’s courtyard, into a group of the barbarians, to launch our attack. We feared the barbarians’ demon, but he was notably absent that day. The barbarians were disorganized due to the loss of their leader, and since the sole reason they’d invaded was because of the leader’s infatuation with me, they had little reason to fight, and so they retreated.
Our queen returned to find her beheaded bear still sitting there in her throne, waiting.
No one has ever found the bear’s head, a fact that plagues the queen even to this day. She still sits upon the throne with the headless bear in her lap, a symbol of her resilience.
A year later, on the anniversary of that night I transferred the eggs, something happened to me.
I had been practicing that day, suited in my armor. I had separated from my fellow knights, walking alone to my quarters to prepare for dinner. As I approached my door, they appeared from their hiding places in the bushes and trees. I heard the fluttering of the mass of the winged insects, forming a busy swarm in front of me. It was a wonder they didn’t collide with each other in midair. They could not “speak” to me in the manner of the butterfly knight, but I could see that the zooming brown triangular insects were moths, and I immediately drew my conclusions.
Then one by one, they flew to my eye level, then free-fell to my midchest’s level, then zoomed away.
I recognized the gesture from what the butterfly had done—a simulation of a bow. I nodded to each of the honorable insects. It took some time for each one to bow to me, until they had all zoomed away.
Excerpt from The Doll Queen
When she first saw him, she didn’t know his secret.
Princess Leila watched him from one of the windows of the castle. He rode into the courtyard, accompanied by his entourage.
She adored his long, brown hair. That alone filled her with desire. He was also pale, unlike all the tanned men of her court.
“Who is that?” she asked one of her chambermaids who was standing next to her.
“It’s Prince Gabriel,” the chambermaid answered, whispering as if afraid he might hear them, though they were too far away.
Princess Leila gasped. They had been expecting his arrival for so many weeks that she had written it off. But now there he was, wearing a purple cape, fluttering as his horse trotted.
She wondered what he was like, what his voice sounded like. How his hair felt, how it smelled. She was quite smitten. It had a lot to do with his hair.
“Ah, do not swoon too much, Princess. They say he visits us because his mother is ashamed of him.”
Leila asked, “What for?”
“Well,” said the chambermaid, “they say he lies with animals. He adores them, as if they were the prettiest princess he had ever seen. He even dresses them, in those clothes women only wear in the bedroom. So I have been told. But how true that is, I cannot tell. For do such people truly exist?”
What she replied, hoping indeed that it wasn’t true was, “Yes, I cannot understand how that could be. Perhaps a lonely or ugly person might do that. But why would one choose an animal when so many humans of fine breeding would lay themselves at his feet?”
The chambermaid grinned at her, and Leila blushed.
It was late in the day when the prince arrived, so they allowed him to go directly to bed, so as not to be bothered by greetings. So Leila did not meet him the day of his arrival, and that only served to deepen her smittenness.
She learned later that she, along with her father the king, were to be the official hosts of a reception in the prince’s honor the next evening. Her brother was away on a vacation, so was excused from attendance. Leila was to take credit for the planning of the event.
Of course no one had bothered to tell her that she had planned such an event.
And that was indicative of the regular goings-on around the court—for though she was a princess, and the king’s only daughter, she had very little power. It didn’t even seem an option to reveal she hadn’t been involved with the reception at all, because that would be bad manners on her part. She felt she was forced into these awkward social positions much too often for her taste.
She was told the reception ball had been organized by Lady Blondy. Her real name was Raelin, but everyone called her Blondy because when she first arrived at the court, she started the current trend of bleaching of hair and tanning of skin. It was a trend that Leila refused to follow, though that led to much ridicule. Blondy was very much Leila’s arch nemesis in the social dramas of the court.
It hadn’t always been that way for the princess. From birth, to the age of thirteen, Leila had been the sole female social dictator of her social circle, but then Blondy had arrived. Blondy always said she moved because the weather here was better for her health, but it was rumored that the real reason was that she was so bratty that her father had sent her away. Blondy did enjoy the climate, that much was true, but it was more for the fact that she loved to tan, and to prance about in her skimpy, thonged bathing suits, for the guys to gawk. Yes, she was indeed a temptress—she considered boys to be challenges, to be conquered. She claimed she had no tan lines, and often asked men if they wanted her to prove it. Leila had no tan lines either, but her reason was that she kept her skin pale. Blondy, on the other hand, had a special booth that could tan skin without the sun.
They said Prince Gabriel came from a kingdom where the queen ruled sitting on the throne with a headless teddy bear always in her lap.
And so a special dance at the reception, Leila was told, was designed to honor the conventions of Prince Gabriel’s kingdom.