Chapter Text
The Kingdom of Astria - February 1721
It was early in the month of February, and a light dusting of snow covered the ground. The first of the snowdrops were blooming, peeking out from under the snow, and the first signs of spring began to appear.
The common civilians milled about in Astria’s capital, the City of Asters. They went about their everyday duties in the town square, all bundled up in thick woolen wraps and coats. Their breath clouded in the air like a crystal mist, and they all eagerly watched the small but promising hints of spring begin to unfold.
While they shivered and worked, the royal family was tucked away in the warm luxury of the palace. A roaring fire in the hearth could warm up the entire room, and bright torches lined every hallway. Guards stood stoic and unmoving in their stations, silently protecting the royals.
The castle was peaceful, but the young princess Purple was hiding away in her room. She sat comfortably on her windowsill, somewhere where she knew she wasn’t supposed to be sitting. But the sill was wide and comfortable, and served as a wonderful place to relax and think.
She could look outside, through the glass, and see all the civilians working like little ants. Purple let out a soft sigh, feeling fortunate she wasn’t out in the cold. Yet, she liked to watch the villagers as they bustled about.
There were two quick knocks on the door, snapping her out of her whimsical daydreams. Probably a servant.
“Come in,” Purple called out.
The door opened to reveal one of the maids — Rose. She quickly bowed her head in respect.
“The King requests your presence, your Highness.”
Purple got up, sliding down from the windowsill and landing on the ornate rug with a soft thump. Her light, silky lavender skirts fluttered around her as she moved.
“You shouldn’t be sittin’ up there, Your Highness,” Rose, the young maid, remarked.
Purple cast her a glance, then pressed a finger to her lips. “You didn’t see anything.”
Rose curtsied quickly. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“And I’ve told you before. Purple is my name. ‘Your Highness’ is too much of a mouthful.”
“Yes, Your High— ehm, Purple.” Rose hid a giggle. It was improper to call a young woman of royalty by her real name, yet Purple didn’t care to enforce those standards. It was “their little secret.”
“For what business does my father want me?”
“He did not say. The King only told me to fetch you immediately.”
Purple walked past the maid at a brisk speed, trying not to show any hesitation in her posture. The palace floors were made of smooth tile, and the walls of strong stone. Her heels made a sharp clicking sound on the surface below. All around, it was decorated with gold, rich rugs, and intricate tapestries.
She used to be frightened of the paintings and busts in the walls when she was a child, but after spending enough time in the walls of the palace, she grew to be incredibly fond of them. They meant that she was somewhere safe, that she was home.
Finally, she arrived at the King’s study.
Purple’s shoulders went rigid, almost instinctively. She took a few deep breaths before reaching up and knocking firmly on the solid oak door.
“Enter,” said the man inside, and the tone of his voice indicated that she should obey.
She gathered herself before pushing the doors open.
“Papa?” Purple asked, folding her hands together politely. The princess nodded to acknowledge her father, who barely looked up from his desk. “You wanted to see me?”
It wasn’t often that the King of Astria called specifically for his daughter, especially so suddenly like this. Yet despite the urgency of his summons, he didn’t even look up at her.
“Ah, yes.” Navy still didn’t look up. “Come in, daughter, sit.” He was writing something on a parchment.
Purple found herself oddly stiff as she shuffled into the library, closing the door behind her with a soft thud and sat down in one of the velvet chairs facing Navy’s mahogany desk.
She found her eyes darting to the ground when he wordlessly got up and came closer. Navy paused for a moment, examining the young woman in front of him. Without any regret or remorse, he sighed and said the dreaded words.
“Purple, I’ve been looking for suitors.”
Purple bit her tongue to keep from retaliating. She didn’t look up at him.
“I’ve decided to arrange a ball,” Navy continued. His lips tightened into a thin line. “Purple, look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Purple forced herself to look up. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes said everything. She forced down a sigh.
They’d had this conversation a thousand times in the past. Ever since Purple turned fifteen, and her father decided it was a good decision to find her a husband, this was all they ever talked about. Every single discussion revolved around this very topic that Purple both had no interest in and absolutely dreaded.
She was getting sick of it.
“You’re going to find a husband, do you understand?” her father demanded.
Purple sighed. She tried not to, but it was hard.
“Don’t give me that,” Navy spat.
“Father—”
“You should not argue with me, young lady.” Navy pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am your father and your king. I will not accept disrespect.” His volume was slowly getting louder.
Purple flinched, biting her tongue until she tasted metal in her mouth. Rage filled her spirit, but she managed to remain calm and composed. Just like Mama taught her.
“If you do not agree with me, I will find a suitor for you myself and you will not argue.”
Purple almost rolled her eyes and scoffed.
Navy leaned forward. “You will obey me.”
She glared at him.
“Purple, do you understand me?”
Purple flinched. She bit back a snide remark and gathered herself. “Yes, Father.” Her tongue felt weird, mostly from the biting but also from the words that slipped from her lips.
“Good,” Navy said, ever strict and firm. He clasped his hands behind his back and retreated behind his desk once more. “Go now, get yourself ready for dinner. The bell should sound soon.”
Purple nodded silently and kept her head down. She stood, stepping out of the room and closing the heavy doors behind her. She let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.
The halls were empty, save for the few guards at their stations. She glanced around at every one of them. No doubt, they heard what had happened in Navy’s office, but didn’t dare speak a word.
Purple started walking back to her bedroom. The paintings and statues seemed drab now, and despite the setting sun that shone through the windows, the castle interior seemed much darker.
Her mother, the Queen Orchid, was waiting for Purple in her room, with many maids ready to get the young princess dressed.
“There you are, my darling.”
Purple had to smile at her mother’s greeting. “Hello, Mama.” She greeted the beautiful woman with a kiss on the cheek.
“How was your father?”
Purple sighed. “Same as always. Suitor this, husband that.” She waved her hand dismissively, but her arm felt heavy.
“Sounds like your father,” Orchid remarked, making Purple feel somewhat worse. “He’s always been a stubborn old goat.” She chuckled, but there was a strange sadness in her eyes that Purple had grown familiar with. Her mother got this way at every mention of her own husband.
“Never mind affairs of the king,” she said, plastering a smile on her face and clapping her hands together. “Let’s get you ready for dinner, shall we?”
Orchid gestured to Purple’s dinner gown, which was lying on the bed, and the maids prepared to help her change into it. Purple followed their instructions as she watched herself in the mirror.
The corset was much too tight. She hated the itchy lace. Her hairdo gave her a headache.
“You look gorgeous, Purple,” Orchid praised, “You’ve been lovely since you were a little child.”
“Thank you, Mama,” Purple said quietly. She twirled around, watching the soft, silky fabric of her gown billow around. There was one advantage to wearing a gown to dinner: the way it made her look better than she felt.
“Why the long face?” Orchid asked gently, always keen on the moods of her daughter. “Is something wrong?”
“No, Mama. Don’t worry. Nothing is wrong.” Purple sighed again. “Everything is going perfectly fine.”
“Clearly, everything is not fine.”
“Nothing is out of the ordinary. Just… Papa being Papa.” Purple felt her shoulders droop.
“Then nothing is fine,” Orchid concluded. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed the maids, all of whom bowed quickly and left the room, closing the door behind them.
“It’s just—” Purple looked back down. “Papa’s got this list of suitors he wants me to choose from. He’s arranging that hideous ball… I only have one night to choose, and I do not feel very well at all.”
Orchid’s warm, gentle gaze was filled with understanding. She had once been the very same as Purple, forced into a loveless marriage for the rest of her life.
“I’m sorry, my darling,” Orchid said softly. “You know neither you nor I could change your father’s mind.”
“Then… what should I do about it, Mama? It makes me feel sick.” Purple hugged herself to punctuate her sentence.
“Promise me one thing, Purple?” Orchid gently took her daughter’s hand in her own.
Purple finally looked back up to meet her mother’s eyes.
“No matter what, don’t marry someone you don’t love just because your father told you to.” Orchid’s eyes searched Purple’s. “Please. Can you promise me that?”
Purple swallowed thickly and nodded. The mere thought of the consequences of disobeying her father made her skin crawl, but Orchid’s prodding was loving.
“Yes, Mama. I promise.”
“If I had one wish, it would be for your happiness.” Orchid smiled sadly. She cupped her daughter’s face. “I do not want you to end up like me, Purple.”
Purple nodded, tears pricking at her eyes. She admired her mother a lot. Orchid was always endlessly composed, always patient despite having to put up with her impatient husband all day. She had a strong mind and heart to make up for her frail body. She knew what she was talking about.
“I won’t, Mama. I promise.”
“Good.” Orchid walked slowly towards the door, holding it open for Purple. “Come, sweetheart. We still have dinner.”
“Thanks, Mama.”
“Be strong for me, Purple?”
Purple pushed away the lingering doubts in her mind. She wasn’t strong-willed like her mother, didn’t have the fearlessness and familiarity with the boundaries to always strain at the edges. No, she had to be strong for her mother.
Orchid had always been so sad. Purple wanted to at least grant her one wish.
Purple wanted to be happy.
Was it so hard?
News of Astria’s Royal Ball spread far and wide. It wasn’t often that the King Navy called for such a grand event. This one, specifically, was to find someone to take the hand of the princess.
Royals, nobles, and high-ranking officers of all the surrounding kingdoms had been invited in terms of peace and a chance of being wed to the king’s beautiful young daughter. It was an opportunity to pounce at.
Among them was an inconspicuous noble, the Lord Mango of Brigton. He was traveling with his son, the young master Gold, and two servants. The carriage bumped around as the horses trotted down the cobblestone streets.
The older of the two servants, Green, tried to focus past his blurry reflection in the glass and into the horizon beyond, gazing out into the vast countryside of Astria. The snow was still melting, and the sun was just now setting. It was all rather beautiful.
His thoughts were interrupted when his younger accomplice, Red, squirmed in his seat.
“My uniform is terribly itchy.”
“Shh.”
Red fidgeted with his collar, face twisted. “My collar is choking me. It’s itchy.”
“Hush now.” Green straightened his shoulders. “Look lively. Smile.”
Red grimaced.
“Not like that.” Green rolled his eyes. “Just think, you won’t have to wear that anymore when we get back to Brigton.”
“Good. It’s killing me.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“I am not.”
“Are too.” Green hid a smirk.
Red nudged him. “Am not—!”
“Boys.” Mango gave them a watchful, stern glare. “Stop bickering.”
Red pouted. “I wasn’t bickering, I—!”
“Look, there’s the castle!” Gold gave an excited shriek, silencing Green and Red at once. He pressed his face against the glass of the carriage, gazing in awe at the beautiful structure and landscape laid out before him as they approached the castle courtyard.
“Gold, don’t do that. You’ll smudge the glass.” Mango took his son’s arm and pulled him away from the window. “Sit straight. Chin up.” To emphasize, he lifted the boy’s chin with his fingers.
Gold obeyed. “Yes, sir.” He snickered at Green and Red.
The carriage halted in front of the castle doors and front steps like the others. On their way out, Red gave a quick pat to the stallions.
“Red, hurry along now,” Green coaxed, pulling him away. “We have to stay with Mango and Gold, remember?”
Red nodded, forcing down a smile, and followed the other three up the stairs. The massive castle doors were opened by two guards, and they were led through the halls by a footman.
Green didn’t have time to stop and look around, though he wanted to. He’d always liked visiting other castles; they’d all fascinated him. If Yellow were here now, he’d be excited to wander around and explore.
They were led through the maze of halls and corridors until they at last reached the ballroom. Glittering guests were packed into the large room, music was playing, and everyone and everything looked so elegant and beautiful.
Red paused by the doors. He gave Green a look of uncertainty. They were here to accompany Lord Mango and his son, not exactly to attend. Servants like them were, in fact, not permitted to events for nobles and royalty.
“We’re dressed fancy for a reason,” Green muttered under his breath to Red, giving him a little nudge forward, into the ballroom.
“What if they catch us?” Red’s voice was barely a breath.
“They won’t. Lord Mango will vouch for us,” Green reassured. He tried not to make eye contact with the guards, but for some reason they still notice him and Red acting strangely.
“Halt!” One guard held out a hand, stopping them. The other extended his spear, at the ready.
“Hey, we were invited!” Red said first, without thinking. Green froze in place, his mind flying a thousand miles an hour, trying to think of a valid reason to get them into the ballroom.
“Your invitation?” the guard demanded.
“We’re with Lord Mango,” Green stated firmly, stepping forward. He looked around, letting out a tiny breath of relief when he locked eyes with Mango. Red waved the lord over.
“Sir, are they yours?” the guard questioned. Mango responded with a brisk nod.
“They’re under my care,” he confirmed without hesitation. “Let them in.”
The guard finally let his hand drop to his side, signalling for his partner to retract the spear.
“Apologies for the misunderstanding.”
Green and Red skittered past the guards, following Mango closely. They could pass as his children, being only slightly older than Gold.
“That was a close one,” Red whispered. Green only nodded in response. He was drawn in by the ornate decorations, the dazzling candlelight, the fancy crystal and porcelain dinnerware, and the guests. Each one was dressed like a jewel, sparkling in the light.
A breeze came in through the open crystal windows, lifting the gold-embroidered, white linen curtains. They billowed and fluttered in the dusky light of evening, like the soft white wings of a swan. For a moment, there was a lightness in the atmosphere, as if the ballroom were floating among the clouds.
Then the servants closed the windows with a loud, synchronized slam, snapping Green out of his reverie. The curtains lost their wind, stilling and coming down to rest in their proper places.
Green looked around for the royal family among all the shine and glitter. He’d barely gotten the chance to look around before the crier introduced Mango and his son to the crowd of people below, and he and Red followed the father and son down the marble steps onto the main floor.
“Keep an eye out for anything suspicious,” Green murmured to Red.
Red gave a confident nod, and focused on the chandelier. Green resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
They were busy wandering around and trying to stay together when a loud voice interrupted them.
“Mango! My old friend!”
“Cerulean!”
Two men started laughing joyously. Green’s attention was turned to a few feet away, where two men, one of whom was Mango, were exchanging a hug and patting each other on the back. Casually sipping his drink, Green leaned against the wall to listen to their conversation. He let Red and Gold wander off on their own; it was impossible for them to go very far, anyway.
The man, Cerulean, was chuckling. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here, given the circumstances.”
Mango talked through a wide smile. “Figured I’d check in on things, if you know what I mean.” He continued to laugh and talk. “How is the royal family treating you?”
Apparently, Mango and this man, Cerulean, had been friends for a very long time. Green made a mental note. Cerulean had many badges and medals on his uniform, and a royal blue sash across his chest. The Grand Duke?
“It’s busy,” Cerulean replied, “but that’s to be expected. The queen is wonderful. And her daughter, oh, she is lovely. This ball is for her, you know?”
Mango nodded. “And what of the king?”
At the question, Cerulean’s smile slowly fell from his face. He nodded. “The king is…” He bit his lip. “He’s strict,” was all he said. Then he turned his attention to Mango after staring into the middle distance. “And what of you, my old friend? How are you? We have not spoken in years.”
As their conversation dragged on, Green gradually lost interest. He scanned the room for Red and Gold, and found them immediately by the window that overlooked the village. They were safe, so he averted his gaze elsewhere. He took a glass of wine from one of the trays and sipped, then casually leaned against the wall.
He tried again to find the royal family. He now knew that they only had a daughter, given Cerulean’s conversation with Mango. He haphazardly wondered if she was a kind princess. Perhaps she was lovely? Perhaps she was—
“Sulking around and eavesdropping, are we?”
Green turned at the sound of the voice. A young woman was standing there, glass of wine in hand, in a light purple dress of silk and tulle. He raised a brow and stood straighter to face her properly.
“Pardon me, my lady,” he said with a quick bow, trying to stay polite. “I did not see you there.”
He was almost sure the young woman rolled her eyes.
She completely ignored his politeness. “There are always people like you. Like this.” She let out a sigh. “People who saunter around like they own the place, all stuck up and mighty.”
Green almost laughed. “And who exactly are you supposed to be?” He forgot about being polite for a moment. Perhaps she needed the sarcastic treatment.
She sighed again, dramatically this time. “What does it matter who I am?” She paused and looked at him, really looked at him.
Green gulped. She had lovely eyes in a deep shade of purple. He tried not to stare.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
Green straightened more. Somehow. “I am Green, from Brigton. I’m with the Lord Mango.” He bowed his head respectfully.
“Ah.” She glanced around. When she couldn’t find the lord, she turned back to Green. “You are his son?” A hopeful glimmer shone in her eyes, for just a second.
“No,” Green replied. “I am merely his servant.”
The girl stiffened, the hopeful gleam all gone, and then she glared at him. “I see.”
Green scoffed. “What, you don’t like talking to servants?” He tossed his head. “I’ll leave, then.”
She crossed her arms. “I did not say that,” she said, “but if you wish to leave, I’m not going to stop you.”
Green actually started laughing. Who did she think she was?? Look past the drop-dead gorgeous young lady and you see a prick. That’s how it always went with these noble ladies. Always thinking they were somehow more important than other people, insisting they were—
Just then, a loud voice boomed across the room, and Green nearly jumped. The girl flinched, and suddenly she didn’t look nearly as high-and-mighty anymore. She almost dropped her glass.
“Purple!” said the voice. The man wasn’t even shouting, but his voice was still loud.
Green figured this was probably someone this young lady, Purple, knew, and it was probably personal, given the tone of his voice. He stuck around anyway.
An older man with dark blue greying hair and a short, scraggly beard was marching up. He was wearing a sharp uniform, with hundreds of medals on the lapel. There was a cape around his shoulders and a crown resting on his head.
The king.
Green gulped and took a step back, partially hidden behind a plant. He pretended to be interested in it, like Blue would, but listened to the king snap to the young woman, rather harshly.
“There you are, young lady.” He snarled, but only loud enough for Purple to hear. “Haven’t I told you to stay in the box?”
Green creased his brow. The “box” was only for royals. Maybe this was the princess.
He studied her through the leaves. It was then he realized that there was a small, glittering tiara on her head. He studied even further. She carried herself with grace and poise. She had a beautiful gown, beautiful hair, beautiful eyes, beautiful everything…?
Then he remembered how rude she was.
No, this couldn’t be her.
He sighed and sipped his drink.
Purple shied away ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, Father,” she said.
Green nearly choked.
So she was the princess.
“I was just so bored— I have absolutely nothing to do!” She looked around for an excuse. “Can’t I dance or do something, please?” She gazed at her father. “Please. It’s my ball after all.”
The king huffed. “I suppose,” he said. “But stay in the ballroom. Don’t go outside with some servant, much worse a stable boy.”
Green audibly gasped out of offense; Purple stared at her shoes. She looked uncomfortable.
“Purple, did you hear me?” He raised his voice.
She flinched. “Yes, Father.”
The king gave a sharp nod. “I will be with your mother,” he said.
“Yes, Father.”
The king sauntered away, giving polite nods and gestures to his guests as if he just wasn’t scolding a young lady.
Purple let out a gust of breath. Green made sure the king was really gone before stepping out from behind the tree, placing his glass of wine on a nearby table.
“Soooo! You’re the princess.” Green chuckled when Purple jumped again at his sudden appearance. He took her hand without her permission and pressed his lips to her knuckle delicately. “I’m pleased to meet you, Your Grace.”
She pulled her hand away. “You shouldn’t be here. My father—” She stopped, and corrected herself. “Don’t you have someone to attend to?”
“No, actually, I don’t.” Green looked at her smugly.
She looked around, as if searching for the imposing figure of her father, or perhaps a means of escape, before turning back around to face him with an annoyed expression.
“What do you want?”
“Well, not much,” Green said with a charming smile, “just a dance.” He clasped his hands behind his back and shrugged. “After all, it is incredibly boring just standing here and watching, don’t you think?”
“A dance? With the likes of you?”
Green hid his offense with another smile. “Would you rather have anyone else?”
Purple’s eyes swept across the room. She glanced at all the suitors that her father had brought in from the neighboring kingdoms. To her great dismay, none of them caught her eye as much as this… this servant boy standing right in front of her.
This boy was objectively handsome, and he knew it. He had sharp green eyes that reminded her of emeralds, and neat hair that was slicked back but a few strands were escaping. He wore a dark green uniform and shiny boots. He was hardly dressed like a servant. If she was to dance with him, Purple’s father even suspect that he was one?
Right now, his arm was getting a little sore from offering a hand to Purple that she never took.
“Fine. Do you dance well?” Purple asked at last, taking his hand. Green understood the implication. Do you dance like royalty?
“I do, in fact.” He gave a little leading tug, bringing them to a more open area in the ballroom, “To an observer in the distance, I could be someone royal.”
He was right, in fact, about that. Purple could close her eyes while they danced and feel Green’s soft lead, and imagine, even if just for a moment, that he was a handsome prince and not some servant boy. He danced like one, he looked like one, and he was even dressed like one, so why couldn’t he be a prince?
Why did the most perfect man have to be a servant boy?
Wait, no. She snapped herself out of it. Purple wasn’t looking for a husband. She didn’t want to. She hoped her father understood that. She hoped this boy knew that.
She had a hand on his shoulder, and he had a hand on her hip. Fingers intertwined, Green led her into a slow waltz, listening to the music as they went. Purple’s eyes remained closed as she tried to stay in time with Green.
“Might I just say, you are an excellent dancer,” Green murmured into her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
Purple went a bit rigid. Her eyes opened. “Thank you,” she said, not wanting to meet his gaze. “You aren’t too horrible yourself.”
He chuckled. “You flatter me, Your Grace.”
Purple couldn’t help but blush.
Once the song ended and all the couples dancing stopped to applaud, she was the first to pull away. She smoothed down her skirt with her hands and nodded politely.
“Thank you,” she said, “but I really must be going. My father…” She didn’t finish. This boy didn’t need to know more about her father: he’d seen enough.
Green took her hand once again and planted another kiss on it. “It was a pleasure, Your Grace.”
Purple bit her lip. “Goodbye.”
He waved. Then he watched her leave, picking up her skirts as she went.
Then he dropped his shoulders.
“What a prick,” he muttered. He stared at his hands, the ones that had been holding the princess as they danced. He sighed. Well, she’d danced alright. He didn’t care for the way she was so stuck-up, but it was nice.
He rolled his eyes. “I’d best find Red.”
It didn’t take him long to find Red and Gold. They were both by the fountain in the grand hall, talking in loud voices about pranking the castle staff by pouring their food into the water. Luckily, Green caught them on time.
“Where is your father, Gold?” Green asked.
Gold shrugged and tried to look innocent. “I don’t know,” he replied, hiding his cake behind his back. “He was talking with that man over there, the Grand Duke, I think.”
Red narrowed his eyes at Green. “Where have you been?”
Green hesitated. Should he tell them he’d been dancing away with the princess? They wouldn’t believe him. He wasn’t supposed to be interacting directly with royalty. That was Mango’s job, not his.
Then again, the princess had approached him first…
Red cleared his throat.
Green looked up. “Hmm?”
Red rolled his eyes. “See, Gold? I told you. He’s been flirting with the ladies.” He gives a disappointing shake of his head. “He always does this.”
Gold snickers. “Who was it this time, Green? A baroness from the North? A wealthy heiress from Ashington?”
The Princess of Astria?
Both Red and Gold started to laugh. Green rolled his eyes.
“I was simply spectating,” he said coolly. “One can find many interesting things at a royal ball.”
He wasn’t lying. The princess was indeed an interesting character.
Purple forced down a yawn as yet another gentleman stepped up to the royal box. This was at least the fiftieth potential suitor, and she was getting quite bored meeting them. She longed to get out of this itchy gown and go to bed.
“Your Majesty,” the herald said, “this is Lord Crimson of Haglington. He’s here to—”
Navy waved his hand, almost dismissively. “Yes, yes, meet my daughter. Purple?”
Behind, Orchid gave Purple a little shove forward. She smiled and nodded and pretended like she didn’t just push Purple.
Purple studied the man. He had to be at least three times her own age, if not older, and he had a giant smiling mustache and slick, greying hair.
“My princess,” he said, bowing deeply. She could already tell that he had a thick accent by the way he pronounced “princess,” but couldn’t quite name that accent.
She reluctantly offered her hand. “Lord Crimson.”
He happily took her hand and kissed it, tickling it with his huge mustache. She grimaced. Everything about him made her skin crawl with disgust.
“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon,” was the next thing he said. That only made it worse.
Purple glanced away, then told herself to look back. “Thank you, my lord,” she said, trying not to visibly cringe, especially under her father’s watchful gaze. “You aren’t exactly the most horrible yourself.”
Crimson smiled, but his eyes didn’t quite match his mouth. Orchid sighed, exasperated. Navy, however, placed a firm hand on his daughter’s shoulder and gripped it firmly. Purple winced. Her shoulder was bare, and his fingernails dug into her skin sharply, leaving painful red crescents.
“Lord Crimson, I’m terribly sorry,” he said with a nervous chuckle and a fake smile. “She’s a bit, er, tired.”
Crimson nodded his head. “Your Majesty,” he said. Since there was nothing left to say, he turned and left with his hand servant, murmuring something about Purple, no doubt.
Navy cursed under his breath and turned to Purple. “Young lady,” he scolded, “you cannot turn everyone away. Lord Crimson was your last option.”
Purple turned her face. “Everyone’s so boring,” she said. “And they’re all older than me. Can’t I find a young, handsome prince or knight or…” She paused.
Servant boy.
She blinked. Her mind drifted to that young man and the dance and—
She didn’t finish her sentence. She wouldn’t let herself think about that self-entitled, cocky, poor excuse of a lord’s servant.
Orchid laughed lightly. “Oh, Purple, broaden your horizon. Not everyone will be handsome and charming.”
Purple hugged herself. “No one is handsome and charming. At least, no one I’ve met.” She huffed. “Every man here’s rich and powerful, and if I marry one of them, they’ll treat me like another one of their possessions.”
There it was. She said it. The thing that had been haunting her for years. How could she possibly marry any of these rich and powerful guys, when all they wanted was status, and not love? Purple doubted she should even learn to love them, even if she was given a hundred years to do so.
The heart was a funny thing, she mused. None of these men caused even the smallest tug of her interest.
It was like her heart was waiting for someone. Someone particular, someone special. Someone she might have met before, or maybe is a thousand miles away. Someone she didn’t know yet.
Who is my heart waiting for?
Purple had asked this question to herself many times, and even told her mother. But she had never, ever dared mention it to her father.
Orchid looked away at this, smile fading, biting her tongue so she’d stay quiet. Navy’s face twisted into a scowl.
“You insolent girl,” he hissed. “You’re going to find a husband. And if you don’t, I will find one for you.” He squeezed her shoulder harder. Purple was almost surprised it didn’t fall off, and she winced but hid her face. Orchid flinched, but she didn’t dare step closer.
She had learned long ago that when Navy made up his mind, he would not have it changed.
“Answer me, girl.”
Purple whimpered. “Yes, Father,” she squeaked. “Please let me go.”
Navy did as he was requested. “If only I had a son. This wouldn’t be this difficult.” He muttered it to himself, but Purple heard it just fine.
She sometimes wished she were deaf, so she wouldn’t hear her father’s disapproving words. Ashamed, she stared down at the floor.
Navy sank into his cushioned chair with an exhausted sigh, rubbing his temples. Orchid rushed to his side, her drapes fluttering behind her. Purple hugged herself, trying to hide the mark on her shoulder.
“Leave my sight,” Navy snapped at her. “I will see you later.”
Tears blurring her vision, Purple walked away, her heels clicking on the floor as she went.
She pushed her way through the crowds, ignoring all the polite greetings and bows that were sent in her direction. Her eyes were locked on the doors that led to the balcony outside. Once she made it at last, she pushed them open and rushed to the railing, supporting herself so she could take a moment and breathe.
It was difficult to breathe. Her dress was too tight. It felt tighter than usual. Perhaps she should go back to her room and change. Perhaps she should go to bed. She felt sick. Perhaps—
“A bit overwhelmed, Your Grace?”
She almost jumped at the voice. Turning, she discovered Green standing there, leaning against the wall, partially hidden by the potted plant.
Purple straightened herself. “You shouldn’t be sulking about,” she said, still a bit breathless. “You startled me.”
Green smirked. “I was simply enjoying a bit of fresh air,” he said, sniffing deeply to exaggerate his point. Then he glanced back to see her unamused face and stopped.
“Am I not allowed, Princess? Shall I step back inside?” He stepped closer, into the light. Instinctively, Purple covered the red mark on her shoulder with her other hand. It didn’t help that her dress was sleeveless. She made a mental note to wear more gowns with sleeves more often.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said quietly. “Especially not… not with me.”
Green raised a brow. He didn’t leave. Instead, he placed a hand on the balcony’s railing and leaned against it. He said nothing.
Purple turned her face. “I shouldn’t be talking with servants,” she said, almost ashamed. “My father will be displeased.”
Green gestured vaguely at his suit. “Do I look like a servant to you?” he asked, almost sounding offended. “I could pass as a prince, if not, then a lord or heir. Your father would never know.”
Purple finally looked up at him. He was right about one thing — he could definitely pass as one. Charming smile, neat hair, sparkling eyes, graceful posture, elegant uniform.
She caught herself wondering why on earth he was dressed this way.
She turned her head again. “Yes, but I know better,” she murmured. “You should probably go.”
“Ouch.” He chuckled, amused. Then he swiftly changed the subject. “Tell me, why does your father want to find you a husband so soon? You can’t be older than seventeen. You still have time.”
Purple closed her eyes and sighed. “You should leave.”
“Can’t one ask questions?” Green turned and leaned his elbows on the railing and tossed some hair out of his eyes. “I’m simply curious.”
She gripped her arm tighter. She felt it starting to bruise, but she didn’t care. “It’s not your place.”
“I understand,” he said, still grinning that stupid grin. “Fine, I won’t push. Have it your way. I just thought it’d be nice to talk to you.”
“I am not in the mood for talking.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I see.”
For a moment, silence hung between them like a heavy blanket. Finally, Green pushed himself off the wall and made his way to the door.
“Wait,” Purple called out before she could stop herself. Green turned back around, his hand on the doorknob.
“Yes, my lady?”
“I can’t help but wonder,” Purple began slowly, wondering if she was even in a place to ask a question like this, “but why are you, a servant boy, dressed like a prince?”
That did the trick. Green’s confident, charming smirk was gone in a flash.
“That’s not something you can just ask,” he said slowly, sounding much more serious than before.
She found herself smirking. “Can’t one ask questions?”
Green’s eyes slowly widened. Then the corners of his lips twitched upwards into a smile that matched Purple’s. “Oh, I see how this is going.” He chortled and put his hands in his pockets, sauntering back to stand closer. “I squeeze personal information out of you, and you out of me?” He tossed his head back and laughed, actually laughed.
Purple wasn’t amused. She scrunched her nose. “Well, pardon me.” She crossed her arms.
Green stopped laughing after a moment. His smile softened into a rather serious gaze. He blinked, then she realized he wasn’t quite looking her in the eyes.
Purple took a step back, matching his concern. “What’s the matter?”
“Your shoulder...” He lifted a hand and gestured to it. “Did you hurt yourself?”
Purple’s train of thought stopped. She realized that she’d uncovered the red mark that was now evolving into a bruise, and she gasped. She clapped a hand to cover it, in vain. Nothing would hide that now.
Green looked concerned. “Are you alright, Your Grace?”
Purple’s eyes filled with tears. She turned away so he wouldn’t see. “It isn’t your place.”
“My la—”
“It isn’t. …Your place.” She finished with a whisper. “Please leave.”
Green was silent. He bit his lip and nodded, then bowed politely. “As you wish, Your Grace.” Then he stepped away, going through the curtain that separated the balcony from the room inside.
Now it was quiet.
Purple stood there alone, looking down at the royal city spread out beneath her, lit with warm, golden lamplight.
It didn’t take long for her to get completely lost in her own mind. She thought of Lord Crimson and tasted bile in the back of her throat.
Then she thought of Green, and quickly pushed him out of her mind. He was certainly strange. He claimed to be a servant boy from Brigton accompanying the Lord Mango, and yet he talked, dressed, danced, walked, and acted in every way like a prince. She couldn’t figure him out.
Stop thinking about servant boys! she scolded herself.
Your father will be furious if he finds out.