Morning came without the blessing of delay. An irreversible turning of the page toward a chapter I have yet desire to face. Still, the constant rushing of the maids to carry the chests rubbed the fact of how all the clothes were packed at my face. Even if I take it back and tell them to stop, the carriages below are prepared with the envoys awaiting us at the entrance of the castle. There is simply no way to rescind.
"May I enter, Alia?" An almost whisper-like voice, akin to the peacefulness of an expansive, enveloping meadow called out. I froze at once, at the implication of her visit. This is the woman who survived the purge of the queen. The only woman out of many lovers who managed to put an illegitimate child like me on the official royal record. The woman who has manipulated all of my paths.
My mother, the one and only royal mistress, Lady Vilma.
There have been many rumors about the opium in her flamenco red lips, a fiery boldness that resonates so much I would've thought her to be in performance art. Yet, all the information about her prior to her union to king Baldwin II was unknown. The real reason why mother's position right now is so unstable could be blamed on the resurging accusation of her being a spy.
A foolish one at that. We are merely a kingdom, if an organization or a kingdom desired to plant a spy, they would've sent them to the Vranid or Creon empire, not this peaceful, helpless kingdom. Despite all the investigations launched, no concrete proof emerged. I could be at ease knowing it's all their assumptions.
At the nod of my face, the lady in waiting, Monica opens the door. Baroness Bernice, disappearing somewhere after she styled today's outfit which is designed in consideration of my eyes, a woad blue dress that majorly comprised of fabric with the bottom from knee and below almost densely weaved with lace only but enough to reveal the fabric underneath which is mull, a variety of muslin that is only very minimally transparent. To add on the dramatic, an ankle length cape resembling was added on the back.
A style of dress that is very controversial, as even showing ankles is viewed as a disgrace. I could merely hope for the chance to stay hidden within the white fur cloak I had baroness Bernice prepare. One cannot exactly be eager to be ogled and glared at after all.
''You still have the face to come after forcing this ridiculous outfit on your daughter?" I sharply comment only to be greeted with that deceptively demure smile. So pure yet exotic like the breed of a lily and a spider lily. There is not a hint of remorse on her, but rather an anticipation like no other.
Lady Vilma, merely opens her fan and covers the tip of her lower mouth, fanning to her direction for a little as though wanting to say a secret before closing it with a hit of her hand and handing it over to me. I was quite surprised, as this exotically purple fan was her favorite.
At the raise of my eyebrows, an unmasked question on what she is doing right now, my mother just raise her hands to slightly cover her mouth and laugh. "A farewell present. I thought you could study from it on how to look attractive considering how you're going to be one yourself."
I look at her in the eyes searching for traces of humor only to find none. The world feel like it spun like the earth is about to give up on me. After all, isn't the woman in front of me supposed to be my foundational strength? The last vestige of yearning for her motherly love dissipated and was replaced by deep disappointment and an ever-digging hollowness.
"Dearie, Aliah, it has been finalized last month that our little kingdom is going to plead for help from the mighty Vranid empire. At the cost of our best jewelry, salt, fur, mining rights and the most beautiful and exotic raven as requested, you."
Just by the sound of it, I am dismayed. So it turns out I am no better than jewelry, salt, and fur. On the scale of value where exactly do I stand? Palm gripped inwards, my long nails digging into my flesh, I sneered. In the space between money, power, and disposable chips. Is there a place at all?
I scan this room that lies on the forsaken wing. The reminder that I wasn't exactly welcomed in this kingdom. That at some level I would always be a stranger. If it wasn't because of the horrid fate I know I would face there. I might be in bliss leaving this suffocating place. A father who had one too many children to remember their names. A stepmother that views me as an eyesore. A mother that treats me as a pawn. And I who is a mix of all these upbringings.
The sole thing keeping me from collapsing is my belief in the fate God has ordained for me. In the worth of my existence. In the calling to lay down my life for another. Like a chain keeping me from flying upwards and disappearing into the horizon of a meaningless life. But the balance has been skewed, the weight too heavy. I can't walk forwards anymore.
"You do realize I am a person, not a bird. What sort of present would I be then? A woman of no value to the hands of the most powerful person on this continent? Mother, you are putting me up for public embarrassment."
And yet, all the explanation I am allowed to hear is another string of pearly laughter. With Lady Vilma, taking out a white handkerchief from under her sleeve, I wonder what sort of incredulous farewell token has my mother prepared for me. Only to be flabbergasted when I see a strand of dark brown copper hair.
The very same one the man from the other night must have left. Without his stature and presence, the strand looked so ordinary I couldn't link it to him. I stood puzzled at what correlation the man has with the Vranid empire.
"There is nothing you can hide from me, my child This plan will go as smoothly as a ball on a marble floor."