I.
I'd better knock, I suppose.
The
ride was rough, hardly to her ladyship's liking. Then again, anything
that wasn't a flying carpet, which the royal scholars continually
insisted to her highness were impossible, was not to her ladyship's
liking. The worst part of the trek was that the coach driver only
left her outside the gatehouse of the marquis' manor without so much
as announcing her presence. In fact, she'd hardly had a chance to
step down properly from the coach before he took off, causing her to
trip. After collecting herself, straightening her hood, and dusting
off her blue dress, she looked around to see if anything had fallen.
Luckily, the only thing dropped was a brown envelope her father gave
her before sending her off.
She
turned the letter of introduction over and over again in her hands,
the wax seal embossed with her father's signet ring staring back at
her. She could tell he'd practically punched a hole in his desk
sealing it, as if knowing his anger and disappointment would embed
itself in the wax and scream all that he wanted to say to her on his
behalf. She considered breaking the seal to see exactly what the
letter said. She had an idea of what it might have said, and
certainly knew why she was being sent to the Marquis, even if she
didn't see the issue with importuning daily the royal scholars on the
practicality of flying carpets, among other things.
Thinking
better of prying, confident that her father would not dare speak ill
of her behind her back, she tucked the letter into the inner pocket
of her hooded cape, and approached the gatehouse's wrought iron bars.
There was no light emanating from inside the gatehouse, and some of
the windows were cracked. In all, the entire facade seemed laughable,
not just for the disrepair and clear abandonment, but also for the
bars of the gate being spaced quite far apart. It was still something
of a squeeze for her to get through, though that was mostly because
of her dress, which she stopped to adjust again on the other side.
She stood staring at the manor house, which sat atop a small hill
surrounded by broken grave markers. Even in the late afternoon's
light, it was hardly cozy or inviting in appearance. The princess
wasn't going to let that get to her, so she cast aside her fear and
unease, straightened up, and nobly strut toward the main entrance,
holding her head high and confidently. She only broke pace to lift up
her dress and navigate the rather awkwardly-assembled stairs put into
the hillside. At the top, instead of simply a short and straight path
to the door, there was a sort of lip made of discarded masonry
running across the path in front of the main door. When she
approached it, she could see that between the stones and the door was
a rather ornate red carpet that seemed most out of place. She leaned
over and studied the weaving. It was immaculate, without a hint of
having been left to the elements. She wondered if they'd simply
thrown it out, leaving it for a servant to take away somewhere, but
that wouldn't explain the row of stones. Speaking of which, the
princess' dress made it rather hard for her to step over the stones.
Unfortunately, a quick glance around revealed the entire perimeter of
the house to be surrounded by a tall fence, bars far too narrow to
squeeze through, making this the only practical path inside. The
princess huffed at the inconvenience, and took the obstacle as a
challenge.
She
stepped back, knelt slightly, braced herself, and leaped over the
stones in a triumphant sprint. She would have landed quite softly on
the ornate red carpet in front of her if it hadn't given way beneath
her feet, coming up all around her as she fell into the hole it had
been covering, almost muffling her surprised scream.
Another
version of her entry goes thusly:
The
doors were very tall and seemed far too heavy to be opened by one
person. It seemed almost pointless to knock. She remembered leaving
her room once without telling anyone, then coming back just in time
to catch one of her handmaids tapping gently on her door with one
finger and counting that as making an effort to deliver the princess
a message she really didn't want to deliver. Now, the lady found
herself in the exact same position, racking her brain for an excuse
not to enter, trying to think of how to make it look like she'd tried
to make her presence known. She almost regretted having that handmaid
thrown in the dungeon for a month. She looked around, thinking in
vain that she'd spot someone trying to catch her in the act as she
had the other day. Finally, she took a deep breath, raised her hand,
and brought down a fist on the door. She did this twice more and
waited. She pressed an ear up against the door to try and listen for
the footsteps of a servant, hearing none. The moment she stepped
back, there was a sudden creaking as the door opened very slowly,
stopping when it was just ajar enough that whoever opened it could
peer out and greet a guest. Nothing of the sort happened, and the
princess stared at the crack angrily, resenting that she'd have to
squeeze through it as she'd done with the gate. She let out a groan
and stomped toward the door, stopping suddenly to lean forward and
peer inside. It was almost totally dark, except for a circle of light
a short distance into the foyer, a patch of red carpet lit overhead
by a chandelier surrounded by a cowl of iron plates to focus the
light downward. As peculiar as it was, it was the most inviting part
of her ordeal thus far, and she took it as a cue to step inside. She
didn't bother trying to close the door behind her and walked toward
the light, her heels making muffled footfalls on the red carpet.
As
she got closer, she saw that the spotlight was on a high, narrow
table, curiously surrounded by a haphazard assortment of silken
pillows on the floor. The princess lifted her skirt and carefully
stepped over them as she made her way to the table. She stopped in
front of it, and took stock of the items on it. There was a glass
goblet, a silver tray with a piece of parchment on it, and a green
bottle containing what she guessed was wine. She looked around,
finding no one, then turned her attention back to the bottle as a
mischievous grin spread across her face. Suddenly, she felt this trip
just got interesting. Her father had expressly forbid her so much as
a sip of champagne on the first day of the new year, and now she was
being presented with a full bottle of wine. She tossed the letter of
introduction on the tray and reached for the bottle. She started to
pull out the cork to take a sniff when she noticed the piece of
parchment on the tray, peering out from under the letter. It wasn't
in an envelope, and it most certainly didn't have a seal carrying
parental dismay, all of which was more than enough reason for her to
pull it out from under the letter and see what it had to say.
The
note only said two words, "Drink Up." She felt she should
have been offended at the commanding tone, but decided to take it for
the invitation that it was. Tossing the note aside, she uncorked the
flask, poured herself a glass, pinched the stem with her thumb and
forefinger whilst firmly extending her pinky, took a dainty little
sniff, and finally gulped the entire goblet's worth of wine. She put
the bottle and glass down, then folded her arms and thought a moment,
attempting to reconcile the sweet bouquet she'd sniffed and the dry
bitterness she swallowed, only for her thoughts to suddenly get very
muddled. She put a hand to her temple and shut her eyes, trying to
think straight. She knew she'd get a bit woozy from the drink, but
not so quickly, certainly not so severely. She tried to open her
eyes, but found it difficult, as though they were weighed down. It
was all she could do to squint, just barely making out the table in
front of her, which suddenly rocked back and forth in front of her.
She reached out a hand to grasp the table and stop its aberrant
behavior, her thoughts too slow to realize she was losing her
balance.
She
was out cold before her head hit the pillows.
There
is yet another version detailing her entry. It involves the dropping
of a net, but it's hardly worth exploring.
II.
You're a Feisty Little One...
The
princess awoke to a nightmarish image of her own body floating
sideways before her in a void, head and arms missing. The entire
blurry spectacle was framed by curious gray bars flecked in
reddish-brown spots. She even saw what she thought were her own legs
walking back and forth behind her favorite blue dress, as if
searching for their fellow missing limbs. She tried calling out, but
words failed her, and even the thought of her own second-guessing of
talking to a pair of disembodied legs made her temples pulse with
pain. The dizziness became unbearable. She tried to make herself
calm, but thinking the very word made her feel anything but. The legs
walked in front of the dress, revealing a dark shape, almost
cloud-like, hovering over them, blotting out the dismembered body
behind it. The blur got worse and there was an overwhelming sensation
of falling over. The princess closed her eyes, feeling nothingness
envelop her, casting aside all sensations.END
OF PREVIEW
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