Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Chapter 117: Ch. 116: Memento

She looks the same.

Normally if this were a scene from a book, Bianca’s face would look drawn and weary, as if she’s been wading through guilt ever since she sold me out. She’d come on her knees begging for forgiveness or any sort of penance to recover from the overwhelming sorrow of giving away her only blood relative. And within her eyes, I would see the emotions and care she had buried deep down inside, sprung to life like buried treasure.

But I’m just a side character, where can such poetic justice occur for me? Not to mention, I’ve long given up on expecting such gratuities. So when I see the smug set in Bianca’s gaze and the way her eyes light up more at the jewelry I gave her than seeing me for the first time in years, I am not surprised in the slightest.

I take one of Bianca’s soot-stained hands into my own and smile back at her while hissing through my teeth.

“If I scream that you hurt me, you will be put to death,” I inform my aunt calmly.

An unfavored princess I may still be, but at least on the surface I enjoy all the trappings of princesshood. Bianca’s pretty lips press into a thin line, she can see the truth in my golden eyes. My short stature has barely changed, but I know I look quite different from the days I’d spent in her shack. My cheeks are fuller and rosier, my clothes, while subtle, still reflect wealth through the fine fabric and tailoring. As someone who has survived her entire life on the streets, I can see Bianca reading my appearance like a book as a thread of what I can only call fear dashes through her eyes.

I would have preferred to see guilt rather than fear. I’d seen it fleetingly the night she exchanged me for 10 gold coins. But whatever heart Bianca has was ripped out by someone long before I was born.

.....

Her hand tries to recoil from mine, but I hold it tight with both hands.

“If you keep struggling, I will scream. If you fail to convince me as to why you decided to show your face before me, I will scream.” I list out my stipulations under my breath so no one but her can hear me and I feel the moment her hands slacken within my grasp.

“Winter,” Bianca bites out through gritted teeth. The smugness is gone.

“Bianca. What’s brought you out of the slums today?” I ask. A frown cuts across her beautiful face.

“I don’t live there anymore,” she tells me, her lips curling in at the offense.

“Oh?” I tap my chin, not caring in the slightest. “That’s good, I suppose. But you didn’t come to tell me about that.”

Bianca’s face is chillier than the arctic, but my prodding words send her rooting through the generous cleavage cut out from the bodice of her dress. I avert my eyes in politeness.

“This... was your mother’s. I forgot to give it to you when you left.”

I smile at her choice of words. Left? I was taken, dragged away to a place that made my poverty-struck childhood seem like paradise in comparison.

Cold metal kisses my palms. For a second, I think that Bianca is returning the earrings I initially gave her but what meets my eye is instead a necklace. It’s pretty enough, I suppose. I’ve lived here long enough to recognize that the workmanship on it that would be commonplace in my past life is rather unique in this antiquated era.

To put it simply, the charm at the end of the silver necklace is the infinity symbol. That’s what draws me in, to see something that as far as I know does not exist in this world. In a hybrid realm of both science and magic, certain physics laws and principles either do not exist here or haven’t been discovered yet.

“This is...” My voice trails off in expectation. I feel more excited than I anticipated.

“It was your mother’s,” Bianca says softly, a faint nostalgia in her eyes. I nod, appreciating a cliche when I meet on.

Dead mom’s memento? Check.

I never saw my mother’s face so I have no maternal attachments to a person I never met. But as time goes on, it becomes clear to me that there are some possible conspiracies and such surrounding her identity. This will be an important step in piecing together the jigsaw puzzle of her life, so I don’t get blindsided in the future.

“What is it?” I ask, pretending I don’t know what the infinity symbol is. But there is some curiosity to my question, after all, it could possess another meaning in the Erudian Empire.

“I don’t know,” Bianca admits, dousing my curiosity before fanning at the dying embers back to life. “But all I know is that she gave this to me before she died and told me to give it to you someday when you were older. She said I couldn’t show it to a soul or sell it, which is nonsense since I can tell it’s made out of good silver.”

Bianca branches off ranting about how she suffered through hard times all the while knowing there was perfectly good silver jewelry she could have pawned off. The guards behind me are getting antsy as well. A little charity on my part is nice, but too long of a conversation will draw suspicion to Bianca inevitably. I realize I have to cut our tearful reunion short.

“Get back to the point. Is there anything important she told you about regarding the necklace’s symbolism? Maybe something dangerous about the necklace related to Travelers or magick?” I demand.

I’m grasping at straws, throwing out random possibilities for what this necklace could allude to. It feels like discovering a cellphone in the Middle Ages, an easter egg of untapped potential.

“Ah!” my aunt shouts. Bianca’s face lights up as a thought occurs to her, but her exclamation draws the guards’ ire.

“Your highness, perhaps it would be better to begin to return to the palace.” A guard steps forward, looking imposing in his dark uniform and stern gaze. Some people are starting to notice the inconspicuous carriage lurking at the back of the Grand Temple and with my white locks, I will soon be identified by passersby. I want to tell the guard to go away, but that would be too suspicious and out of character for a young, “innocent” princess.

“What?” I hiss, patting her hand impatiently under the veil of comforting her.

I feel lucky enough that none of the guards present were the royal guards who picked me up from the slums and don’t recognize Bianca, but I know I can’t push my luck too far.

“She said that it was connected to some very powerful people. People who maintain the order. Or something like that, anyways.” Bianca scratches at her head, struggling to remember more as I pick up the few breadcrumbs she’s left me.

The guard is too close by now, I can’t question Bianca further. I allow a gracious smile to spread across my face.

“You will be alright. Have faith and take care of your health,” I reassure her warmly, returning to treating her like a beggar I had pity for.

Bianca catches on quickly although she oversells her part. She immediately falls into a reverent bow, almost knocking her head on the cobblestone to display her gratitude. “May Helio bless you! The light shines from you, oh blessed promised child! May the world bask in your light!” It’s all utter nonsense.

Marie appears by my side as well, shying me away from Bianca’s fanatical worship. Lifting me onto the steps of the carriage, she inquires about what just occurred. The carriage door slams shut behind us, the outside world cut off from me once again. The obedient pet has been brought out to entertain and must now be returned to her cage.

I can only peer out the glass to watch the slowly disappearing face of my only maternal relative.

“That?” I tell Marie, deliberately lightening my voice to sound casual as I tuck the necklace into a pocket. “Don’t worry about her. She’s mad. Almost reminds me of someone I knew in the past.”

A past I look forward to someday forgetting in lieu of happier memories. Even if it takes me a lifetime to get to that point.

“Look at that sunset, Marie,” I remark. “It’s beautiful.”

A dense pink hue has managed to fight through the heavy clouds in the sky, dusting the streets and rooftops in a warm light that leaves a soft feeling in my chest.

“Yes, your highness. Very beautiful. Just like you,” Marie remarks, smiling down at where I sit. Surrounding her face is a palace-issued bonnet, required for the staff of the palace who step outside the palace gates.

I pat my cheek in contentment. I’m still quite young, but I can already tell I’ve got the hallmarks of great future beauty. However, what occurs to me first is not how nice it will be to be a pretty girl, but the implications of being beautiful in an era where marriage for the elite is a tool.

The skin under my hand is soft and bouncy. I don’t need to look at the window’s reflection to recognize the faint ever-present blush that makes me look like a doll. How can I let the tender flower that I am to become get plucked up and planted in some foreign kingdom where I won’t even have the home-court advantage of being a princess?

I sneer to myself, making sure to turn away so Marie cannot see such a dark expression cross my youthful face. It seems that I will have to take the next step of my plan sooner rather than later.

It’s not that late in the day, but with the fall season in full swing, I know it isn’t as late as it appears outside.

“Marie, the time please?” I request, doing mental calculations in my head.

I’ve been taking detailed accounts of various family members’ schedules throughout the day ever since I returned from the military warfront. This was done largely for the purpose of avoiding them, of course. At noon, Julia receives her private dance lessons in the grand ballroom of the central palace, hence why I used to take my lesson break either outside or in my room. Unfortunately, since we now take lessons together, I’m forced to deal with her every day.

But if my estimations are correct, this is close to the time my brother, Augustus, leaves his training session with the Mad Dog himself. There are two paths he can take. One is longer, weaving through two elaborate gardens and just past the Imperial Library. The second shaves the journey down by half, taking Augustus right through the center of the imperial palace and right before the central palace. And with this cold weather setting in, anyone could make a fortune betting that the crown prince will take the shortest path back to his courtyard.

Marie pulls out an iron stopwatch from her pocket, one of the fun, antiquated things of this era. “It’s 10 to 4, your highness.”

I clap my hands together in childish glee.

“Oh, good. Tell the coachman to make haste!” I quickly tell Marie.

Marie looks puzzled, but seeing my cheerful expression she obliges with a smile.

“Is there something exciting you are looking forward to, your highness?” she asks as she fusses over me, straightening my collar and wrapping the cloak tighter around my figure. This is a discreet carriage without the insignia and pomp of a typical royal carriage. The royal carriages often feature a small, built-in furnace, like most carriages for the high-class, so the draft outside is able to slip in and leave me still feeling cold.

“Yes, very much!” I squeal. Marie’s eye corners lovingly crinkle and she pats my head.

It’s only a shame perhaps Augustus won’t enjoy this meeting as much as I will.