Layla

Layla

  By Lacie Perry Parker

  Copyright 2004, 2014

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chatper 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chatper 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 1

  She stepped into the room. Lengthy gown with a tight fitting bodice, hair twirled into perfect spirals. My latest governess. I didn't even know her name. She had been instructing me for the past three hours, and even in that little time she had left the room crying.

  What had I done wrong?

  She was reentering, all composed and stable- for the moment. I knew she was too whimsical to last very long, and my point surfaced when went ballistic over my cross-stitching. It wasn't my fault I was no good; she was the first to ever force me to attempt this dreadful domestic trade on this level.

  "Now," she said, her pronunciation faultless, even in such a tiny word. "You're going to try this until you get it perfect."

  We'd be here for the next ten years.

  "Let me show you again," she enthused. I let her take it from me, and watched as she looped the needle in and out.

  "My fingers won't do that," I told her, and it was meant to be more of a confession than a blaspheme. But, of course, being the ninny I could see her to be, she took it the wrong way.

  Jerking it from me, she yelped. "Oh," she wailed melodramatically.

  I pushed the fabric away to see what had caused her to cry out like a gander. "My, my, a broken nail. What a complete tragedy. I'll tell father to send for the herbal magician, who is very skilled in strengthening-" I quit rambling when I noticed she was staring at me, straight in the face.

  "Forgive me for, uh- not measuring up to your health standards, your highness, but where I come from some matters are strictly personal." Her eyes were as big as the buttons on her sixteen-inch shoes.

  "Where are you from?" I asked.

  I must have triggered something. She went absolutely crazy.

  "You are the most absolute insolent, audacious and stupid girl I have ever seen in my life-" Her hair was flying around wildly. It was quite entertaining.

  "If I were you, I'd quit after saying that." I wasn't talking threateningly, it was more like egging her on.

  "I quit," she said, first calmly, but then she screamed it.

  I braced myself by grasping the arms of the chair I was sitting on with both hands. I watched silently as she left in a huff.

  And what a familiar exercise this was.

  No one ever understood me. That was the way I had always felt. Sometimes I considered that maybe I was cursed. Every moment of my life seemed as though God Himself had forsaken me. I love to fence and swordplay; I also love being loud and getting dirty. Unfortunately, those activities were obviously not princess-like behavior.

  As heir to the Tentaleighen throne, I was always expected to be dainty, skilled at embroidery and handiwork, and capable of running the household. I was also expected to know how to cook, at least on a limited basis. My cooking was acceptable, but my embroidery left a lot to be desired. I was always jabbing myself with the tiny needle, leaving red stains all over the delicate fabric.

  My fencing skills were a different matter. I had always believed that I could prevail over even the highest ranking knights in father's kingdom. If I were ever to say that to Father, he would just frown at me. And, if my faithful servant and devoted nanny, LaShebah, ever heard me say that, she would call for smelling salts! There was no doubt my mother would have smirked at the thought, but unfortunately she died when I was only two years old. But because of the way the people still talked about her around here, one would think she was still alive and living in the castle!

  When I was four, I sneaked into one of the trunks of our scullery maids' son and took out a pair of dark maroon breaches. I had never worn breaches before, but I had always longed for my legs to be free to stretch. I slid the breaches on and found them to be a tad too big. I dug out a green sash and tied it on like a belt. I wandered out of the room, looking for LaShebah, who had taken care of me since my mother's death. I will never forget the way that woman screeched when she saw me!

  "For heavens sake, child! Get those horrid things off at once!" she demanded, about to keel over.

  Perfect, the women of the court were. None of them would ever dream of doing such a thing as putting on men's clothes.

  Wanting to obey, I dropped those breaches right where I stood. With me, still being in my innocence, she couldn't punish me. She just grabbed me, hollering and screeching, and ran all the way down the long corridor with me bouncing on her shoulder. From that point on, everyone knew the truth about me: I was a tomboy, destined for something far different from the life of a normal princess.

  There had never been anyone within the castle in whom I could confide, so I had always looked forward to the visits of Prince Brydon of Dreideth. He had been my friend since I could remember, the only friend I'd ever had. We were a year and a half apart in age. He was sixteen, and I was fifteen.

  Although he was from a different kingdom, with different traditions and laws, we had always been able to relate to each other quite easily. And we could always depend on each other. He had a playful spirit, as well as I, which helped us through hard times. Like when my father would restrict me from the things I loved because I had done something terribly unladylike? which happened fairly often. Or when Brye's parents exiled him to Tentaleigh for not speaking enough to them. During those times we immensely enjoyed each others company, running through flower sprinkled fields or joking about royal life. He was due another visit in a few days; sometimes I wonder if he doesn't talk to his parents on purpose.

  Brye had always been aware of my restlessness and my disgruntlement with my treatment here at the castle. He often asked if there were anything he could do to help me. I had never accepted his offer. Not yet, anyway.

  We were exact opposites in appearance. He had tawny hair and a dark complexion; I was a brunette with fair skin. But I could not help my fairness! I wasn't allowed outdoors enough to darken my skin.

  I stared at a red and white tapestry, a futuristic vision of the kingdom. Everybody - all the foreigners - were fleeing the land because they didn't belong. The kingdom had become too set in its ways, too perfect it seemed, to let anyone new in. The picture lead my thoughts over to something that had always taunted me, running away. A vision of freedom that only existed in my dreams. I had always searched for the bravery to do a thing such as that, but I knew it would take time, or a certain incident that would trigger my actions. So I waited.

  If I ever did run away, I would go to a place called Medalia. They spoke another language, Barranadigen. I knew how to speak the language? slowly. I had to rack my brain for every single word, but I knew it.

  The idea occurred to me one night while I was mourning my seemingly worthless existence, that I could ask Brye. He had once described Medalia as "Sandal Terrain," for all the grounds within the city gates were hot, dry and dusty. But, if one would go anywhere outside the city, one would find it to be nothing but green, lush forest. It was, of course, apart from the forest of despondency, which was where all the Colies lived. Colies were winged creatures with one glass eye, and a taunting look about them. I had never seen one in real life, but I had seen pictures of them in story books when I was younger.

  Medalia was fairly far away, so I was completely confident that no one there would recognize me, at least not the most recent generation. I knew I would have to learn their ways, but it would be just like learning an
ything else new for the first time.

  "I would have to ride Jedni," I decided out loud. Jedni was my horse, a pure thoroughbred, gorgeous in every way.

  In the palace everyone ate overwhelming portions of food, even me. In Medalia I would not be able to eat as much as I do now. I would have to cut down on the amount of food I ate. The thought of such a silly thing made me laugh.

  "Layla? Are you talking to yourself again?" LaShebah asked. "You know proper ladies never do such brainless things!"

  "I guess I'm not a proper lady then," I muttered, praying she didn't hear.

  "Honey!" LaShebah called out from the dining hall. I searched for the source of her voice.

  "Over here," I answered. I found the fragile woman standing at a large table. Lying on the table were at least six different patterned materials, along with four solid colored fabric choices.

  She looked up at me. "I need you to pick out the material for your new gown." She shifted from side to side, waiting for a response.

  "Is it any special occasion?" I asked, taking a bite from an apple.

  "Prince Brydon comes in three days, love," she reminded me.

  How could I have forgotten? Every time Brye came, she made me a new gown. It had been so long since he had visited, centuries to me, that I had forgotten almost everything we did in preparation for him.

  I walked closer to the table, the apple still in hand.

  "Oh, Layla darling, please! Have Aola cut it up for you so you can eat properly," she pleaded.

  I ignored her suggestion and kept rummaging through my choices. Yellow did not look good on me, nor did peach. And I despised flower prints!

  "Ah! That baby blue," I thought as I reached out my hand to stroke the fabric. It was the softest velour I had ever felt.

  "This one," I said pointing to the luxurious blue material.

  "No pattern this time?" LaShebah asked, sounding almost disappointed. But my mind was made up.

  "Wouldn't it look divine with beige cuffs?" I asked persuasively. She reluctantly agreed, gathered the fabric in her arms and crossed the kitchen to the sewing table.

  As she turned to measure me, she said, "Besides the prince's coming, you could use a new gown anyway."

  She was right, of course. The dress I had on was a dark maroon, hardly a spring color. It was actually a winter gown, and it showed that it was from last year. The small flowers across the waist had faded, and even peeled in some places. One would think Father would keep me better dressed, but I always insisted that I didn't care. And I truly didn't!

  The table in the corner of the kitchen was where LaShebah always worked. It had been there as long as I could remember. The table had been carved by elves, and it was very beautiful, although it was very old. But, as my last governess had said, "The older, the better!"