Flor’s room was placed strategically across the hall from Princess Yatzil’s. The bed was uneven and possessed no frame unlike her own at home. She rolled away from a small puddle of drool that had frozen over. The girl’s mouth hung open as she slept, distorting her sharp features and distracting from her exceptionally small nose. Flor raised her head to find the other handmaidens sleeping in various poses. The bed to her displeasure was one immense cushion stack with others of different sizes.
Flor curled up into a fetal position and forced her eyes shut. Bath salts and a small urns of frost lily oil filled her nostril from their place on a distant shelf. She pulled her sheet up over her nose. Yatzil didn’t wear frost lily oil, and yet the urns containing its alluring scent numbered a dozen. It wasn’t what kept her awake, but the sandals of a girl lying beside her. They were pungent and required to be close should the princess call on anyone.
She removed her thoughts from the foul smell to the princess herself. Flor had kept her secret, even ignored the look Yatzil gave Prince Sachihiro from time to time. He was younger by two years and muscled in nearly every place but his stomach. The queen encouraged the prince to eat much and spend more time asserting his potency in the haream. Flor sighed. She could see the princess’s attraction to him. She could even see her own attraction to the prince, but it was not in how he acted or for other obvious reasons. Sachihiro commanded the avalanche warriors of the sea.
“I must convince Yatzil to have her brother break tradition,” she whispered.
Flor rose slowly upon her elbows. None of the others were awake, nor had they stirred. After the princess had heard what she said concerning bottom wiping, there was reason to be cautious. She laid back down, pulling the sheet over her shoulder. There was something else to keep in mind. The people. Flor rolled onto her back sinking further into the cushions. It still made little sense for the royals to be royal, for them to be considered gods if the people held such influence. It will be no great change, she thought, focusing on the doors to the room, Princess Yatzil does see me as more of a companion than a servant.
***
“I will have this matter closed,” said Yatzil, raising her chin to proper height. “My brother, though a brave warrior, is still learning to lead. You ask for a change he is far too busy to make.”
Flor slid the hook of an earring through one ear. It hung from the princess’s lobe so heavy it stretched the flesh. Each earring was a golden owl with a jade beak.
“It will show strength to make such a change, my princess,” said Flor, hanging the other matching owl. “The people protest major change if that is a worry.”
Yatzil raised a wrist. Flor applied and adjusted a long, heavy bracelet. Its end bands were sapphire, but its body was of a smoothed and polished palm-n-oak. She was glad Yatzil possessed strength and balance to manage it all.
“I’m rarely afforded alone time with him these days. My brother is either with father paying visits to nobles or upon the sea, or…”
The other handmaidens continued to apply her highness’s jewelry and clothes. Flor finished adjusting the second bracelet. Yatzil lowered slowly into her chair. Flor felt the room become completely silent once they were both alone.
“Why do I wear any of this?” the princess whispered.
Flor kneeled before Yatzil, folding her hands in her lap. A deep emptiness formed in her chest, and by the look in her mistress’s eyes, she possessed the same feeling. Five months had gone by since becoming a handmaiden and during which, she’d learned Yatzil was Niev’s crown princess. Flor wasn’t sure what the title meant, but if it meant anything to the girl before her, marriage to the future king wasn’t it.
“I know the reason,” she said, noticing a frozen tear on Yatzil’s cheek. The princess swiped it away with her thumb. The tear tapped and shattered upon the floor. “You love him. You love him in him in a way no longer acceptable.”
Yatzil sniffed back her sadness, reflecting upon the still waters of her bath.
“You must think me strange despite understanding. You must think my affection for him, and the tradition no longer practiced strange, too.”
I do. Flor didn’t have the courage to say it. She had been treated well. The other servants were kind to some degree, except the bodyguards and soldiers. She never expected what had taken place since leaving home, since having her dream snatched away. It felt wrong in this moment to press her wants an inch further.
“Well,” said Yatzil, standing. Flor did the same expecting an end to their conversation. They were needed in court soon. “I know what I desire shall remain forever distant, but what you want isn’t.”
Flor gasped.
“I shall convince my brother to break tradition,” said Yazil. “You will become an Avalanche Warrior of the Sea.”
And for the first time since Flor set foot within the palace, her mistress broke one other tradition. She smiled.
***
The opportunity for her mistress to fulfill her word couldn’t have been set in a worse place. All due to bate-niches. Flor thought to blame the princess, but it wasn’t her fault. The king wanted her daughter to meet who managed the growth of her favorite fruit. Such a gesture was thoughtful, something Flor once believed her father to be. She watched the guards’ frost, heard the crackle of ice over their muscles as they pulled open the palace gates.
Unlike her previous journey through the city, the road was absent of people. Its white granite was not only swept clean, but washed and polished. The amount of Limpe priests it would have taken was unimaginable. Flor had been too distracted by heartache at the time to track the distance to the palace back then. Several miles by my guess. The meeting was set one month from the princess learning of its existence.
Flor sighed, keeping pace with the immense palanquin beside her. The meeting was the only time Prince Sachihiro, and his sister would be together until Clewarinsea. A month’s worth of rituals set in the Four’s temples, and even then, their time together would be limited. Flor removed her focus from the thought and the journey ahead. She listened. The wind howled. The heavy breathing of bearers and their cracking frost form. The rhythmic clap of two dozen sandals. All of it kept whatever conversation taking place in the palanquin from being heard.
It was far larger than any she had seen. The sides were of smoothed and polished palm-n-oak. Above them, thick curtains of green boar’s fur filled between statues of the king. The statues held high with both arms a low, nearly flat dome. Waves were etched through it as if the kings held back the ocean itself.
Flor never saw Yatzil’s father as someone of great ego. There were statues of him throughout the palace, murals, and tapestries, but the palanquin was something else. The queen, Flor thought, rolling her eyes and then checking to see if anyone had noticed. She released a low breath in relief, returning her focus to the road.
“Here, girl.”
A bearer pressed a small scroll to her chest. Flor took it quickly so the bearer could return his hand to its duty. She unfurled it.
We shall speak with my brother in private.
He has agreed to reduce the guards and bar guests from have your gardens for one hour.
Crown Princess Yatzil of Niev
“Walk and read, girl,” said the same bearer.
She looked up. Flor rolled up the scroll and ran until she found pace with the palanquin again. Her breath leapt from her lips. The close fit of her handmaiden’s dress made running difficult. A single tear in its fabrics meant a return to the palace. The queen, though not with her family, had servants who made certain nothing was out of place.
According to her memory, the home of her father was near the center of Niev’s wealthy half. It matched nine others both design and style, and each were large. Flor peered back at where they had come, panting, forcing herself not to fall behind. Wind raced through her thick hair rattling the golden frost lily keeping it in place. The palace’s pyramid base was so massive that even with the distance traveled, the illusion of no progress was there.
Overhangs of evergreen, ice-blue, and silver broke up the white each home was composed of. The homes varied in height, possessing columned halls and overreaching gardens from expansive balconies. Flor faced forward, flinching at first from the shadow of a familiar arch. Sigils belonging to families within the homes graced it. At either end perched on towering, branchless stone trees were the Four. They pressed close to one another, wearing the symbol of their divine purpose on their brows. A symbol for cleanliness. A symbol for war. A symbol for fertility. And finally, the most simplistic and yet most important to her the symbol for the sea.
Flor swallowed, hoping to see more of Non and her bronze fishhook after today. It graced the armor of the Avalanche Warriors of the Sea. She knew her father’s house was at the far end of the lane. It would give her more time to think. She eyed the curtains of the palanquin, half wondering if Yatzil was as nervous as she was becoming. The wish to be permitted to leave her position, and thus break tradition asked a lot of the prince. He could manage warriors, brave the seas, but could he make a decision such as this? She licked her lips as the palanquin drew closer to the lane’s middle.
The decision would affect the royal household in a small way. A position of vacancy in who served the crown princess, but the other handmaidens managed well. I must stop worrying, she thought. The rhythmic clopping of palanquin bearer sandals stopped. Flor took a few steps back. More ground had been covered than she’d paid notice to. A solid, heavy thud from the palanquin hitting the ground reached her. She dashed to the other side, stopping short of the immense transport’s entrance.
She raised her chin to proper height, stood a man away from the entrance. To her left, the palm-n-oaks acting as sentinels to her father’s house were gone. Old soil and its lifeless scent remained in two immense pots where once the trees were planted. The bronze gate was open, polished with something that jabbed at her nostrils like a needle.
Thick heavy flapping removed her attention from the sharp scent of the polish to the king. He was two heads taller than she was, clothed in white robes. The robes made hazy the scars across his light ice-blue chest, his long black hair pinned back by a gold comb. A small in-flight owl clutching a moon partially eclipsed by the thickness of the kings hair, topped the comb. Flor lowered her eyes to the ground, noticing first the drop of the king’s expression. She thought his busy schedule was to blame, but rumor spoke otherwise.
Once Prince Sachihiro had joined his father, followed with Flor close behind the princess. There was something different about her that Flor hadn’t noticed earlier. Yatzil’s posture wasn’t perfect. Flor heard the gate close behind them, felt the bushes to either side of the gravel path brush her calves. The princess tended to ignore such things, but now, she was flinching at everything. Flor parted her lips, then immediately shut them. The weight of the princess’s jewelry had finally won out.
“We are to go to the garden immediately, Flor,” the princess whispered. “It wasn’t on the scroll, but you have been instructed to guide us there.”
Flor maneuvered in front of Yatzil. A bead click drew her attention to the crown prince. He wore similar robes to his father, except in place of white, his robes were evergreen. A gold sash bounded the robes’ layers and folds tight to his noticeable gut. At the sash’s center were jade moons linked one to another by bronze rings. He nodded to Flor assuredly.
“Lead us, handmaiden,” he said. “You have one hour to make your case.”
***
The garden was bricked off by high walls of polished white granite. Behind them, the place Flor had once called home possessed multiple levels, balconies, and overhangs to give them color. Her room was on the other side, overlooking several homes beyond the main road through the city. Beyond an immense pool, bordered by low bushes, her father’s private bate-nich orchard stood in neat rows. The crown prince stood with arms folded, his fixed on the princess.
“Go on,” he said, removing his gaze from Yatzil. “Why should I break tradition for you?”
Flor stepped forward and raised her chin. She swore the prince could see her swallow the lump forming in her throat. His tone seemed rushed and harsh to a degree. And despite the emotionless tradition followed nearly as well as his sister, there was kindness in his eyes.
“I was never one for special occasions, elegant dresses,” she said resting her eyes on Yatzil, who’d seemed to recover her nerves, “or handcrafted jewelry.” Flor caught a wink from the princess. She guessed her highness had caught the ending joke. “I have trained since the day of my womanhood ceremony. I have studied the histories of Niev’s Avalanche Warriors of the Sea. And before coming to serve her highness, I passed the test to join them.”
Prince Sachihiro unfolded his arms, strolled to the pool, and released a deep sigh.
“True. I command the nescaran forces upon the sea. True. I have influence and power. None of it is enough, though.”
“Please, Brother,” said Yatzil. She strode to his side in two great steps and took his hand. “Ignore Mother for once. Will you allow her to control your decisions once you’re king?”
The crown prince sneered and yanked his hand from her own. Flor realized this was what had made the princess nervous, finally saying what she knew was true.
“You go too far,” said the prince. “I can make change. I review every recruit before their training.” He sneered. “I am Father’s second and have say on who stays and goes.”
“Then listen to your sister and make the change,” said Flor, beaming.
Before she had time to react, the crown prince was within a breaths reach of her.
“This far larger than you think,” he said, pressing a finger to her chest. She winced, surprised at the force behind it. “I guess I should be far more specific for you both. Second isn’t king. Second is commander of warriors, not someone with power to change how things work.”
Flor took a step back. His words made sense. His position could make the small changes, ones that affected avalanche warriors and them alone. Yatzil took his hand once again, pulling him close.
“Can you not still take this matter to father and mother?” said Yatzil. “Mother will take more convincing, but it will be your chance to show her how strong you are.”
The prince yanked himself free once more, except this time … with too much force. Yatzil stumbled back, toppling over the bushes. And before either Flor or Sachihiro had time reach out, to call out, her mistress was in the water.
***
Flor’s lips trembled. Ice formed beneath the surface of her skin. Prince Sachihiro called for aid and was answered by the forced clop of bodyguard sandals. Flor maneuvered through the bushes, the tips of her toes aligning with the pool’s edge. The princess wasn’t frosting. To do so would increase her strength, dwarf the weight of her wrist and arm bands, their gold and jade thick and numerous.
“Stand aside, handmaiden!” the prince called.
Flor focused until her skin crackled and became ice. A burning raced over her eyes, flashing against the water’s surface. She leapt into the pool. The princess was awake, but she didn’t reach for the surface. Flor grabbed at the water, kicking with her feet. They were near the bottom before Flor grabbed Yatzil under the arms. She kicked off the bottom, slipping a little from something scummy.
They breached the surface, both gasping for air. Yatzil mouthed her name and something else. It was soft and weak. Flor kept her face blank, realizing what was said. Thank you, my friend. She brought them both to the pool’s edge, closest to the house. By then, the prince and king were reaching for Yatzil.
The king smiled at her, drawing his daughter into an embrace. Yatzil peered down at the water and then pressed herself deeper into her father’s arms. Flor thawed as she climbed from the water. A servant offered her a towel, but she motioned it away.
“I wouldn’t look on this incident with hope, Flor.”
Her father parted from the guards and servants, waiting until it was just the two of them. He was of course dressed in his finest, nursing a frosted cup of palm wine.
“I have no idea of what you speak of,” she said, pressing the water from her dress. “My princess needed me.”
“Are you telling me after all this time you have accepted your place?”
Flor thought back to her experiences and how they weren’t what she had expected. Serving upon the sea in bronze whale bone armor sounded good. Ideal.
“I have a new purpose, Father. To be a friend. Something greater than a life on the sea.”
About the Author
Andrew is a fantasy author from southwestern Pennsylvania. He studies history and reviews books for his fellow authors when not writing. He is published by Warrioress Publishing. Primnoire will be his debut novel.
