A
few days later, Laetitia was woken from a troubled sleep by the
messenger. She got up with a start as a plaintive voice repeated over
and over again, “Princess. Princess. Priiiincess Laetitia.
Princess. Wake up please.”
“What?”
she shouted, taking a moment to untangle her hair from under her
elbows.
She
looked around blearily, hoping to see her servants, but none were in
the room. She groaned and got out of bed, dearly wishing she had a
dagger to stab the messenger in the face. And where were her
servants? She was supposed to have servants with her at all times.
She would have a stern talking-to with them as soon as she was done
with this dunce.
She
walked to her bedchamber door, making a mental note to severely
punish whoever had left the door open, strode to the messenger and
asked, “What?” so loudly, spit flew out of her mouth.
He
flinched, but didn’t wipe away her spittle. He did, however, give
her a letter.
“It’s
from Dr. Jolland, Princess. I know it is an urgent matter for you, so
I came as quickly as I could.”
She
almost tore open the letter as she broke through the seal. Her pulse
raced. Finally, some good news! Finally, some breakthrough. Finally,
she could start feeling like a suitable heir to the throne again:
efficient, calm and controlled. She could start helping her people,
she could finally ease her conscience.
She
unfolded the letter and started reading.
Princess
Laetitia, I appreciate your efforts in reaching out to me, but
unfortunately I can be of no help to you. The body you and Sir
Blaxton have given me has no disease that I can find. It might be a
skin blemish or disorder. I don’t think I would worry about these
sores if I were you. I have disposed of the body.
Laetitia
started and read it again. She turned the letter over and back again.
She stared imploringly at the messenger.
“There
was nothing else?”
He
shook his head.
“This
is unacceptable!” she burst out, wanting to dissolve in tears.
Instead, she threw the letter on the floor and stamped on it with her
bare feet. The paper crunched satisfyingly under her heel.
“Please
leave,” she said. “And you can tell Dr. Jolland that he can chew
on a moldy potato.”
With
a scowl on her face, Laetitia went back into her bedchamber and
walked round and round in a circle. The one person she’d been
counting on, whom she’d trusted, had turned out to be a miserable
failure. It was as if he hadn’t even tried. Worse, he’d gotten
rid of the body. How would she be able to find out what exactly
caused the sores if she had no body? If Sir Blaxton, who wasn’t a
physician by any means, had detected something off about that corpse,
then Dr. Jolland should have been able to glean a little something.
It truly felt like all the adults in and around Avaritia had lost
their minds and skills. Laetitia was at a loss. She had to let Sir
Blaxton know about this disappointment. And she would have to see if
there was something she could do. Maybe it was time for her to go
into all the villages in Avaritia and ask questions instead of simply
observing. She had to get some answers quickly.
She
chose a flame-red houppelande from her wardrobe and put on the
sturdiest boots she could find. Over and over she cursed her servants
in her head, annoyed at having to dress herself. She hadn’t had to
dress herself ever. She could do it, of course. But she shouldn’t
be forced to suffer through her servants’ laziness.
Finally,
she put on her circlet and made sure not one curl was out of place.
She wanted to look as regal as possible. She must be poised and cold,
no matter how desperate she felt inside. She marched out of her room,
her hands flat against her thighs. She went to the solar first. It
was empty. Laetitia blinked as she came into the solar and walked out
again, unsure where she wanted to go. She then went through the bed
chambers, the kitchens, pantries, gatehouses, guardrooms, oratories,
boudoirs, storerooms, and ice houses before coming to the main wing
with the apartments. The castle was surprisingly empty. Where was
everybody? Where were the king and queen? Her servants? It wasn’t a
sacred day that she knew of. Laetitia’s suspicions spiraled out of
control.
The
rising and falling of voices floated out from one of the apartments.
She stood in the hallway, indecisive, then she crept her way to one
of the apartments on the left side, the Galunarian apartment, if she
recalled correctly. That’s where the voices were coming from. She
heard her name and the sound of multiple male voices. She frowned.
She recognized an exotic accent and a clipped cadence she knew all
too well. Sir Blaxton and Sir Durriken. What were they discussing so
privately? She tiptoed closer and crouched by the door, making sure
to make no noise. She brushed her long hair away from her ears and
focused.
Sir
Durriken’s voice, angry and flustered, made its way to her, his
cadence even more short than usual.
“Never
in all my life have I had such a difficult student. She has no
creativity, no spark of curiosity. I have to drag her through my
lessons. I know full well she’s not learning. She still doesn’t
know what the difference is between a comet and an asteroid. She
handles the telescope, the astrolabe, the compass like an ape. An
honor to be a suitor for her. Pah! The prestige of being an
astronomer for a kingdom like Avaritia is nothing to laugh at. If the
princess and I were to wed, this whole affair would have been worth
it. But after so many months… I have no desire anymore to continue.
She is like a child! Plus, the equipment this kingdom has is
deplorable. Avaritia is many things, but serious in astronomy it is
not. I am going to have to go back to my kingdom. Bring my own
equipment.”
Laetitia
reeled a little, and had to steady herself so she wouldn’t fall and
make noise. A child, was she? Her kingdom deplorable, was it? She
wanted nothing more than to storm in and slap him full force in the
face. But it wouldn’t do. She hunkered down, and then she heard Sir
Blaxton speak.
“She
has learned from me a little, I think, but she still hasn’t been
able to perform any ritual on her own yet. She is still, in my eyes,
woefully unprepared. She has taken to necromancy like a fish to a
tree. She has no skills, no aptitude for this respectable art. She is
skilled in other realms, though. I think there is more to her than
meets the eye. I remain her potential suitor, but I am not sure it
would be prudent for her to practice necromancy. I wouldn’t mind
keeping her company, but not with such an arrangement.”
Sir
Lancelot spoke then.
“Surely
you are being hyperbolic. I know the princess can be trying, but
surely she must have learned something from one of you. She is quite
formidable when she wants to be. Just because she doesn’t show it,
or balks, doesn’t mean she hasn’t actually learned. She is a
sharp woman, though she does act like a child sometimes. She is young
yet.”
Laetitia
tried to ignore the blush that crept up her face and to her hairline.
There was a moment of silence and shuffling feet, and then Sir
Aelfraed spoke up.
“The
princess has learned well with me. She doesn’t like it, but she
will get over that in time. I have had many apprentices who hated
philosophy at first, but then came to love it, because it challenged
them. The princess loves a challenge, and in her discourses with me,
she has rhetoric, firm argumentation, a mind that’s open to
countless arguments. She is a good pupil, despite her flippant
attitude.”
Laetitia
could have choked on her spit. What was he saying? She never would
have guessed Sir Aelfraed would speak well of her, especially
considering how she’d treated him recently. No matter how
irritating he was, she had to admit that she did admire his optimism.
“That
is exactly what I mean. She fought me at first, too, even though I
know she loves art. I think it is an affectation. I think under that
spiny exterior, there is something more. Strength and resilience,
yes, but an empathy and creativity that is striving to come out. Do
not give up on her. Plus,” Sir Lancelot chuckled, “it would make
it all too easy for me to win, if you all give up so easily.”
“Ho
ho, keep speaking like that, my friend, and we are going to think you
actually are in this for love,” Sir Durriken said.
“Aren’t
we all, in some aspect or another?” Sir Lancelot said.
A
thick silence rolled in like a morning fog, and no one spoke for a
few minutes. Laetitia was about ready to slink off to the gardens
when Sir Lancelot spoke again. She listened to his warm voice,
letting its timbre gently soothe her anger.
“We
all came into this with certain expectations. We had heard some of
the more…virulent rumors about the princess’s temper. But we had
also heard about her beauty, her intelligence. Temper is an
impermanent thing. But intelligence is something inherent.”
“Right,
so right you are,” Sir Aelfraed chirped. “It’s one of the most
important things a person can possess. And the princess is fiercely
intelligent.”
“The
princess is indeed intelligent,” Sir Lancelot agreed. “We have
been chosen by the king and queen, and accepted the conditions of
their Royal Accord. We are meant to teach her. Teach her what we love
with the most ardent passion: our hard-acquired skills. I didn’t go
into this just for the prestige of teaching an heir to the throne of
Avaritia. I went into this to share my love for something and to
perhaps win the princess’s heart. Or at least try. I think you are
being a little unfair to the princess.”
“I
understand what you are getting at, Sir Lancelot, but she is
impossible. You’ve witnessed her tantrums! She doesn’t have an
ounce of control. You can’t possibly want to marry a woman with the
temperament of a child, who screams every time something goes wrong,”
Sir Durriken said.
“The
princess might have a lot on her mind,” Sir Aelfraed murmured.
Laetitia
craned to hear more.
“Everyone
has a bad day, my friend,” Sir Lancelot said. “Tell me, instead
of complaining so much about the princess, try to think of something
positive about her.”
Sir
Durriken grumbled.
“Come
now, there must be something,” Sir Lancelot chided gently.
“Even
I have something positive to say about her,” Sir Blaxton said.
“She…she
has a childlike wonder about the stars. She has no interest in
anything else about astronomy,” Sir Durriken said at last.
There
was a burst of laughter and some clapping.
“Well
now, my friend,” Sir Aelfraed said, “you can’t blame the
princess for that. I wouldn’t feel much interest in your tools and
instruments. I find your skill fascinating, but to me, it may as well
be alchemy. I don’t know how you do it, and I’m not sure I’d
want to know. Despite that, we’ve been friends for a long time.”
“Sir
Blaxton, what do you find charming about the princess?” Sir
Lancelot asked.
“Her
tenacity. She has incredible willpower. I have had students in the
past raise the dead with me, and they vomited. Or they ran. Or they
radiated so much fear it almost overwhelmed my concentration. She did
it with all the resentment and stubbornness we have all picked up on.
But she did it. She is a strong woman.”
“I
suppose I could modify my teachings a little bit,” Sir Durriken
admitted. “Instead of focusing on arithmetic astronomy of computus,
perhaps I can focus on astronomical compilations and theories.
“There’s
a good fellow! But remember to woo her,” Sir Lancelot said. “You
are there to teach her, but also to win her heart. Treat her as a
lady, princess and student.”
The
other three agreed, with varying levels of enthusiasm, that they
would keep the competition alive. As much as Laetitia appreciated Sir
Lancelot’s words, it was a disconcerting feeling to hear herself
being talked about in such a manner. She hadn’t gone through such a
spectacularly wide range of emotions in a while: she’d been
insulted, she’d been complimented, she’d been praised. She’d
never explicitly realized that not only was she embroiled in a
contest of wits and knowledge, but also a contest of the heart. It
was a foreign concept. Never had she learned that choosing a consort
would have anything to do with affection, much less love. As a little
girl, she’d sometimes fantasized she’d find her Prince Charming,
who would then become her king. That he’d be a man she could
appreciate and who would understand her. But she’d given up on that
fantasy after reading the history books on the various monarchy lines
on the continent. Being a monarch left no room for love. Love was a
thing for the lower classes, for the peasants, who had no rules to
follow, no obligations of state to fulfill.
And
now Sir Lancelot was trying to make this about love? She admired him
deeply, she enjoyed his lessons more than she should, but he was an
idealist. She ignored her racing heart, the fantasy of living
somewhere with Sir Lancelot, just the two of them, enjoying beautiful
scenery and making art together.
She
stood up from her crouch, smoothed her kirtle, swung open the door
and marched into the room. Her suitors jumped and tried to look
everywhere but at her.
“You
are all idiots,” she said, struggling not to giggle. How very
satisfactory to surprise them for once.
“Were
you eavesdropping?” Sir Durriken asked, putting his hands on his
hips.
“Yes,”
Laetitia said glibly.
Sir
Durriken turned a brilliant shade of puce.
“How
much did you hear?” Sir Lancelot asked, his mouth twitching.
“Enough,”
she said. “Enough to know exactly what you think of me. You’d
rather talk about me behind my back than tell me in person what you
dislike about me.”
Sir
Aelfraed hung his head, while Sir Blaxton worried at his lip with a
bony finger. Sir Durriken’s mouth writhed but he couldn’t say
anything. She was pleased to note that his cheeks still bore a
striking violet color. Sir Lancelot stared evenly at her, his eyes
measured and calm.
“Princess,
we didn’t want to hurt your feelings and you must forgive some of
us,” he cast an aggrieved glance at Sir Durriken, “who spoke out
of anger. Don’t fixate on something said in anger.”
“I
know you didn’t say anything too nasty about me,” Laetitia said,
“but you all criticized me in some way or another. You call me a
child, but you act like children yourselves, holing yourselves up in
a room and gossiping about me behind my back, dishing out your petty
grievances amongst yourselves.”
“She
has a point,” Sir Aelfraed said.
“We
are sorry, Princess. We are sorry you heard us discussing you this
way. But perhaps it resolves the situation. Now you know how we feel.
And we know how you feel,” Sir Blaxton said.
Sir
Durriken sighed and roughly got down on one knee.
“I
am sorry, Princess. I disrespected you in a way unfitting a lady,
much less the future queen. I had no right to talk about you the way
I did. Forgive me.”
He
bowed his head almost knocking it against his knee. Laetitia walked
to him and stood over him, relishing in his contriteness. But as she
stood there, inwardly gloating, the fun drained out. She was above
this. A queen had to choose her battles wisely. A queen had to
acknowledge when she was in the wrong. Laetitia didn’t like to
admit it, but she had been a pest with all of them, especially Sir
Durriken. She might not like the terms of the Royal Accord, but she
had to respect her end of the bargain. Her suitors had upheld theirs,
despite the hell she’d given them. Laetitia cringed. Her suitors
had more honor than her.
“Get
up,” she snapped at Sir Durriken. “I accept your apology. But
honestly, I owe you an apology, too. I have not been the best student
I could be. I will try to be better, even if I don’t like or
understand what you’re teaching me.”
Sir
Durriken nodded.
“But
you must promise not to talk about me behind my back. This goes for
all of you,” she said, pointing to Sir Blaxton, Sir Lancelot and
Sir Aelfraed.
“I
believe we’ve been served a slice of humble pie,” Sir Aelfraed
piped up.
“Yes.
I never want to talk about this again,” Laetitia said, flushing. “I
have been slacking in my duties with you lately and I want to rectify
that. I will devote my attention to you all. But I have a lot of
issues on my mind. Not everything is right with my kingdom. You must
remember I am the heir to the throne. I can’t abdicate all my
responsibilities even if I am your pupil.”
They
nodded sheepishly and Laetitia turned to Sir Blaxton.
“I
have news of importance to discuss with you. I will have to ask the
rest of you to leave.”
“Remember
you have your first session with me, Laetitia. We are already running
late,” Sir Aelfraed said.
“I
won’t forget,” she said coldly.
Can you, for those who don't know
you already, tell something about yourself and how you became an
author?
I became a writer somewhere in 4th
grade. I loved to read and always knew I wanted to be a writer. I had
collection upon collection of book series in my room. In 4th grade,
the teacher introduced us to creative writing. I wrote a poem about
spring time and was quite proud of it. Afterwards, I wrote some
mystery short stories, based loosely on Carmen Sandiego and other
mystery books I was in love with at the time. I'd gift my stories to
my parents for Christmas for example. I continued to write poetry in
French mostly, inspired by Nature and the seasons.
When I was 11 years old, we went to
Palm Beach for summer vacation. And I was hit with the idea to write
a science fiction series for teens, full of superpowers and intrigue.
I wrote and wrote almost non-stop through the vacation, and drew
sketches of my characters for months afterwards. I even thought of
ways to make games based on my book, and hoped one day for my book
series to be adapted into film. Later on, when I was walking on the
beach with my mom, I told her with utmost sincerity, that I would
become a writer full-time one day. She humored me and said "We'll
see." Despite negative feedback from my parents afterward, that
I was too young to write anything of worth, that my writing was
immature, that no one became a professional writer without subjecting
their family members to homelessness, and that I was getting "too
mixed up in imaginary worlds" hence banning me from writing in
their presence, I continued to write in secret. At summer camps, I
took pleasure in introducing my writings to fellow campers, and we
sometimes co-wrote together during the camp. At 14-15 I started
writing fanfiction, in secret, and that helped me better develop my
original works when I came back to writing in college. From 16-18 I
felt so depressed I'd stopped writing temporarily. In college, I
found my love for writing again during creative writing workshops and
I was encouraged by many professors. In 2014, I started getting
published in literary magazines. It was the best feeling ever, and it
pushed me to pursue publishing and share my works to this day.
-Tell us something really
interesting that's happened to you!
When I was 11 years old, I found an
abandoned box in the empty lot beside our house. When I went to throw
it in the garbage, I saw five baby raccoons inside. Their eyes
weren't even open yet. We took them in, and took care of them for
about 2 years.
- Where were you born/grew up at?
I was born in Caracas, Venezuela. My
adopted parents moved to the US, Florida when I was 4 years old.
- As a writer, what would you
choose as your mascot/avatar/spirit animal?
A phoenix. Because for so long I had to
hide my talent in order to avoid being punished. Now, I am free!
-Fun Facts/Behind the Scenes/Did You
Know?'-type tidbits about the author, the book or the writing
process of the book.
The book The Four Suitors began as a
31,000 word novella. The sub plot with the plague, scenes with Morena
for example, were added in later. But the idea of the suitors and the
ending was always there.
Pen, typewriter, or computer?
Computer, although if I get struck with
inspiration and I don't have access to a computer, I take out a
notebook and pen.
