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Noelle, raised in the palace kitchens, longs only for one thing: To learn more about the father who abandoned her. But when the mysterious princess betrothed to her kingdom's prince needs her services, Noelle finds herself on a path of danger and deceit. Appearing at a ball in the princess' honor, dressed as her mistress, she finds her pauper's masquerade has just begun.
So that's just a very cryptic idea of the story. And now, in honor of Mirriam Neal, I shall post a scene. Sorry it isn't very snarky!
~~~
Shaking her head, Noelle tried to pen some more
words besides a vague title.
What is
freedom? To be let out from a cage, like a bird in flight? To no longer have to
scratch, to work, to fight? Why do we all long to let go? Why do we all want to
be away from thoughtless words and deeds?
Because they are thoughtless of course, and isn’t it
so?
Pursing
her lips, the girl crossed out her lines, hating to waste such precious space.
“Oh how I wish I had some other paper!”
“There
is some in the desk if you so wish to borrow it.”
Emitting a squeak, Noelle turned in her chair, mouth gaping
at the sight of Prince Alfred, Crown Prince of Ellern. “Oh. Oh my!”
Noelle
dropped from the chair, feeling very conspicuous all of a sudden. She had been
caught sitting in a royal chair! She fell to her knees, bowing her head in
shame and fear. “Your highness, I beg your forgiveness. Please forgive me… I
didn’t mean to assume. I just… I just wanted to write… I’m so sorry…”
The
prince laughed, his laugh not deep and milky as the girls claimed, but rather a
bit stressed sounding, but somehow still sincere. “Do not fret. It is no great
sin. Though I do find it strange… a servant girl who writes?”
Another
cloud of fear surrounded her. What if the prince didn’t like for servants, or
women for that matter, to write? “My lord, please pardon me. I learned from the
old cook who passed away. I thought it might connect me to my father.”
This
time the prince’s voice was stern. “There is nothing to pardon. Now, stand. I
don’t enjoy talking to the tops of people’s heads.”
Scrambling to her feet in a very unladylike way, Noelle kept
her head tilted down, staring at the elaborate embroidery of Prince Alfred’s
dressing robe.
“Well,
that’s a little better,” the prince said, his voice full of amusement, “But
might I see your face.”
Feeling ridiculous, Noelle looked up.
This
was the first time she had ever seen the prince so close up before. He had
black hair, and dark eyes that glowed with some secret Noelle suddenly wanted
to know. There was a deep, endearing dimple in his cheek.
While
she was taking in the sight of him, the prince was also surveying her, and he
burst into more laughter.
Noelle
felt her face, cheeks warming. “Oh, your majesty, I’m so sorry. It’s the soot,
isn’t it? You see… I tend the ovens… and…”
He
waved a dismissive hand. “There’s no need to explain yourself.”
Noelle
curtsied, grateful. All of a sudden, overwhelming curiosity overcame her, and,
trying to be careful, she voiced the question vexing her. “My lord, I don’t
wish to sound rude, but may I ask you a question?”
The
prince raised an eyebrow, and the girl expected to receive a harsh rebuke for
her boldness.
“Of
course, if you will allow me to put one forth to you.”
Relieved, she bobbed her head. “Yes, sire. You see… every
night I have come to this library… to tend the fire; there has been no living
soul around. So, if it isn’t wrong to ask, what brings you to this place
tonight?”
The
prince tapped a finger against his forehead. “A very good question to ask. And
the answer is simple. I decided to come read a bit after preparing for bed… my
stomach has been a bit out of sorts. And I somehow fell asleep in that chair
over there, only to be awoken by your voice, talking to yourself.”
Noelle
felt like sinking into the earth. “Oh.”
The
prince just smiled again. “Now, for my question, and I hope you don’t think it
rude.”
“Of
course not,” she mumbled, staring at the floor.
“My
question is, why do you dress in this fashion? I believe my mother instituted a
dress code, and I only wonder why you do not uphold it?”
Noelle
bit her lip. Would she now be punished? Would it be all right to tell what Cook
had done?
“You
are not in trouble, I only wish to know.”
“Oh.
Well. The cook has not given me a uniform. I work in her service in the
kitchens, you see… and well… she never saw the need since I don’t work in the
palace.”
The
prince’s forehead scrunched. “I see.” He glanced at a beautiful, engraved clock
hanging from the wall. “I suppose I should be heading to my chambers. Please
sleep well.”
Noelle curtsied again. “Th- thank you, your majesty.”
Have a lovely day!
~ a rambling author
2 comments:
Promise me something. Just one little promise.
Promise me this thing will get into print. Win the contest, or self-publish, or query a hundred and one times, or just post the darn thing online for free.
I don't care. I just want to read this. Soooo badly, I want it.
Emily, you're so sweet! I will do my best to get it out there somehow. I don't know if it's worth all the hype, because it certainly needs plenty of work. But thank you. This certainly encourages me to continue working!
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