Page 36 of Like Matches for Wishes

I sit in front of Gram’s looking glass and open her painting case. I dab a bit of color on my lips and pinch my cheeks for pinkness. I leave my hair long and falling about my shoulders. I will not wear a bonnet. They need to see a woman of court, so I will not cover my hair. I hear a knock on the door and stand to answer it.

“Who is it?” I ask through the door.

“Sir Victor, your highness.”

Your highness. I will never get used to that.

I open the door and Sir Victor is standing in the doorframe with a dress draped across his arms.

“Your high—” He stops and takes me all in. “By the gods, Princess Milla, you are a vision.”

“Thank you, kind sir. What do you have there?”

He remembers his task at hand and holds out the dress. “A dress for you. You are the princess. You can’t be wearing peasant clothing. Go and change into it. We need to be on our way.”

I take the dress and go into the bedroom, closing the door behind myself. The dress is a dark blue with gold threading running through the bodice and down the sleeves. The sleeves are a little long, but I’ll make do. I will admit that the dress is rather royal, and I feel more important in it, for whatever silly reason my brain has for thinking it. I join Sir Victor in the room again.

“I’m ready.”

He smiles when he sees me. “And so you are. Do you ride, my grace?”

It has been a long time since I’ve ridden a horse, but I can. “I do.”

“Then, shall we go?”

I follow Sir Victor outside. The horses are tied to the porch and Sir Victor offers me a boost up on mine. When I am mounted, he grins.

“Begging your pardon, highness, but the princess rides side saddle.”

I cut him a look. “Not this princess.”

No one is talking except a priest and a knight from the resistance. I am seated in front of the town hall and Sir Victor is on my right. Jordy is in the crowd, seated between his parents, mouth agape, staring at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“So you see, good citizens of Timberness, if we do not join the resistance and restore Princess Milla to her rightful place on the throne, soon Sir Malek will be king. I would dare say that no one in this room wants that.”

“But what you are proposing is treason,” a man in the crowd yells out. “You are asking us all to betray our king.”

“We are asking no such thing.” Sir Victor stands and addresses the crowd. “Urich is the king of lies. He claimed that the princess was stillborn, yet there she sits. He gave Queen Millicent, our beloved Willow, a choice—death to her newborn daughter, or banishment. So, the queen mother fled the castle with the child and lived amongst you all for years in an effort to save the princess’s life. And from what I hear, the queen mother saved a lot of your lives as well while she was alive. She was a generous healer and a righteous woman, as is the princess. You cannot commit treason with a king who is seated based on corruption of the crown. Princess Milla is the true, blood-born princess, the rightful and last remaining heir of House Starling. You know her. You love her. Will you not follow her into battle against Urich and restore order to Timberness once and for all? Or will you cower and fall under Sir Malek’s rule? Restore House Starling, or seat Malek. The choice is yours.”

“I think it is safe to say that no one wants Sir Malek to be king,” a priest says. “Timberness would surely fall into darkness.”

Echoes of agreeance and gasps ring out amongst the crowd.

Sir Victor adds, “Please, good people of Timberness, I have left my father’s journal on a table here. Feel free to come and read his words for yourself. We also have Queen Millicent’s letter to the princess, penned in her own hand and sealed with her signet. You can see the proof of Princess Milla’s lineage yourself. You do not have to trust our words alone.”

“I do not trust your words,” Treena blurts out. Her parents try to force her to sit back down, but she yanks her arm away from her father and walks forward. “You expect us to believe that a girl who sells matches on the streets and has worn rags her entire life is a princess? She is a peasant and nothing more!” She points to Sir Victor. “This man was supposed to hang for treason. He is a criminal, no better than a peasant pretending to be a princess. He is trying to lead us all astray to gain his freedom from his treasonous tongue.”

“Milla is no peasant,” Master Burgess calls out. He stands and points to Treena. “She is good and kind. But not you. You harass people on the street who you feel are beneath you, but not Milla, not our little match girl. She helps others, and even offers her friendship and listening ear to an old widower like me.”

Jordy claps loudly and yells, “Aye, ‘tis true.”

What is he doing?He locks eyes with me, but I look away.

“I will do whatever I can to see that Milla is on that throne,” Master Burgess continues, “for as long as I have breath in these old bones.”

“Then you are a fool,” Treena says.

I will not sit by and listen to her speak to Master Burgess that way.

---