Secret Happiness

The dawn light breaks through my windows, cascading gently across my bed. Which covers a lump of pillows shaped haphazardly like my own sleeping form. If anyone were to know that I was leaving the palace walls without an escort, I wouldn’t hear the end of it, confined to the palace gardens and library for the rest of my days. 

With this thought in mind, I quickly lace up boots that I borrowed from one of my maids and shrug a heavy coat over my simple tunic and trousers. My hair, a light brown, is hidden beneath the hood as well as most of my face. Already starting to sweat, I only take a moment to check my reflection. With a long nose and full lips, I could pass off as any other village girl in Gardania if it weren’t for my eyes. A bright and brilliant green, they easily mark me as a member of the royal family. I simply pull my hood lower over my face and hope for the best. 

My bedroom door opens without a sound, and my shadow bounces across the torch-light hallway as I creep silently past the rest of the rooms. The royal wing fills up most of the east side of the palace, all the rooms connected by a long corridor. Portioned throughout the hallway are portraits of my ancestors, staring down at me imperiously as I walk beneath them. I grimace as I pass mine, the painting cast in shadow from the torches and my face unrecognizable covered in the heavy makeup I had to wear.

I pick up my pace, thankful for how silent the maid’s soft leather boots are. A twinge of guilt passes through me as I think about that maid, who I didn’t even know the name of, probably frantically looking for her boots. I’ll buy her the best pair I can find, as an apology. The thought doesn’t bring me much comfort, but I push the worry aside for now as the hallway opens up to the main part of the palace. 

My eyes take a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness of the grand entry, every corner illuminated by the floor to ceiling windows at the front of the palace. The rising sun bounces its light over the newly fallen snow, causing the world to sparkle. My heart beats faster at how close I am to leaving, the walls of my home almost heavy around me. 

Despite how eager I am to escape, I force myself to crouch behind the towering pillars bracketing the stairs down to the entry. Peering around the carved stone, I watch a pair of soldiers as they pace in front of the windows, their sharp swords shining brilliantly in the light in time with their steps. 

I hadn’t expected to be able to walk out the front door, but I was hoping that I had woken early enough to leave during the soldiers’ rotation. Thankfully, I had been watching the servants for the past week, taking particular interest in how they get in and out of rooms. 

Ignoring the steady rhythm of the soldiers’ march, I walk carefully across the open space between the pillars. I lower my head as I pass my family’s royal portrait in the hopes of looking like a humble servant on the way to the kitchens. The walkway couldn’t have been any longer than 20 feet but it felt like miles. The once comforting light from the sun became uncomfortable as it washed over me, sweat now pouring down my back. 

By the time I passed the stairs I could practically feel the presence of the two soldiers below me, and I waited for one of them to see through my poor disguise and drag me back to my rooms. But neither of them even bothered to wave in my direction as I made my way into the cool hallways of the west wing. 

I leaned against the damp stone, my knees shaking beneath me. My breath was ragged in my ears as I panted for air, nerves now only catching me. I only allow myself a second, though, before pressing forward. 

The west wing holds the kitchens, servants corridors, and one of the ballrooms, smaller than the one along the north wing. I struggle to remember which hallways to turn into as I walk, my nerves causing me to doubt. I had never needed to walk this far into the west wing before, being a princess, making me realize how much of my home isn’t really mine. 

After a few minutes, I hear footsteps coming behind me, and I fight the urge to look over my shoulder. Breathe. Just breathe and pretend you know where you are. I keep my head lowered and walk as nonchalantly as I can manage, my body filling with adrenaline and itching to run. As the person - another maid, I realize - passes by, a sigh of relief rushes through me. I follow her as far as I dare, hoping that she will lead me a little closer to the outside world. 

Corridor after corridor with countless turns I follow the maid through the palace. Finally, she walks through a large door, warm light spilling out into the damp hallway. The smell of freshly baked breads and cakes follows and my stomach grumbles 

I cautiously walk through the door, remembering how our royal stable is located alongside the west wing. There has to be a door here that leads outside to the animals. Despite how eager I am to get outside, I can’t help but marvel at how… cozy the kitchens are. With the smell of food and the comforting warmth of the fires, I feel myself relax for what feels like the first time in forever. I watch from the side as the head cook orders her apprentices around the kitchen with all the experience of a general, her body constantly in motion as she prepares food for the royal family - my family. 

My eyes drink up the scene with as much fervor as a thirsty traveler, but soon sweat begins to pour down my back once again from the heat. I pull my eyes away from the hustle of the kitchens and make my way around the room, searching for the door to the stables, and outside. After a moment, I feel my heart sink as I begin to loop back to the front of the kitchens, not yet having seen a door. 

“Can I help you?” I stop short at these words, terror freezing me in place. 

“If you’re here for their breakfast, it’ll be ready in 10 minutes.” I slowly peer around my hood to find a boy around my age staring at me, his forehead creased in confusion. Red creeps up my neck as I realize how odd I must look; I never took off the heavy coat and the hood was still pulled down tightly over my head. 

The boy starts to move closer to me and I quickly step away, mumbling as I go, “No, no, I’m fine, thank you.” At this, I start to move back, inching closer and closer to the exit. 

“Are you sure? You definitely look a little lost.” He touches my shoulder and I shrug away from his hand, worried that he’ll pull down my hood. 

“Really, I’m fine,” I say, irritation creeping into my voice. If I could, I would have stared the boy down as I have seen my mother do a thousand times, but I don’t want him to recognize my eyes. For a moment, I stand there in silence, then march purposefully away from the boy. 

“The exit’s that way. You know… if that’s where you were going?” I pause again, my foot stopped midair. Slowly, I turn back to the boy, making sure that my head is still slightly turned away from him. 

“Where did you say it was?” I hardly dared to breathe as I watched him point over his shoulder back the way I came. 

“It’s a little back that way, behind the pantry. If you want me to show you I can -” 

“No, no that’s ok, you’ve done more than enough.” I practically push him out of the way in my hurry to leave, only taking a moment to yell thank you over my shoulder. When I reach the door everything else seems to fade away. I allow my hand to hover over the handle for a moment before turning it and pushing out. 

I felt the cold air on my face first before I saw anything, the crisp, electric feel racing through my nose and into my lungs. Then the sparkling snow and the rolling hills outside the door came into focus, and a giddy laugh escapes me. Eagerly, I step outside for the first time in years by myself.

My feet sink into the fresh snow, chilling me to the bone as it crests the lip of the boots and falls into my socks. But at that moment, I would have let the snow swallow me if it meant I could stay out here forever. 

I sprinted away from the palace, looking around with hungry eyes at the small village below us. Everything looks so small from up here, the market square with its shops and winter decorations just barely visible. Despite how early in the day it is, the sun just breaking through the clouds, people mill around like ants among the village. I breathe deeply, still marveling at the feel of winter air against my skin before sprinting down the hills to the market. 

As I run, snow flies up around me in bursts, the powdery flakes falling against my face in  cold sparks, and another laugh races through me. I close my eyes, relishing the feel of everything around me. But then I feel my feet catch on something hard and with all my momentum I’m hurtled through the air, landing with a thump in the snow. For a moment, stars flare in my vision and I struggle to breathe. With a jolt, I feel the cold of the snow through my coat and tunic, soaking my back and I sit up. 

All I do is stare around me, too amazed with the world to consider my clothes. For the first time in my life, no one knew where I was, who I was. So why should I care about a little snow? With this thought in mind, I fall back down, moving my arms and legs side to side. 

After a while, I stand again to appreciate the little angel I created. It looked just like the ones I used to see children create when I was young. I turn away, walking now the rest of the way to the village. 

I find a small path cleared away in the snow, for horses and carts I assume, and clamber onto it, dripping from the snow. All of a sudden, my previous excitement drains away, and all I feel is nerves. From far away, the village looked so small, so tiny. It looked peaceful. Up close, though, it was huge, almost as big as the palace itself, with hundreds of people walking around in a hurry. Everyone walked with a purpose, grabbing children tightly by the hand as they bought fish, or clothes, or just visited their neighbors. 

I’ve never seen such chaos, such disorder in my life. Everyone in the palace moved with a reverence I found unnerving, as if they were afraid of stepping even an inch out of line. Even my family seemed to conduct themselves as if in a play, every move already planned out. Here, though, the chaos seemed freeing. 

As I’m taking in everything around me, a group of small children race their way past me, throwing snowballs at each other as they go. I watch, mesmerized at their joy and pure glee, heart aching at the same time. My gaze falls on a couple as they watch, their eyes filled with pride and happiness, and with a start I realize that this must be a family. My breath catches at the sight, trying to absorb all the love they cast. Hands entwined, the father calls out to his children, waving his hand towards him. The kids scramble to catch up to one another as they run back, pushing each other as they go. 

I watch quietly from the side as they leave, the feeling of something missing only growing as I stay. It takes a moment for me to realize that I was crying, that the tears were starting to freeze against my skin. I shake my head, wiping my eyes before fully entering the village. 

I let myself get swept up in the chaos, following those around me. I tried some fried fish from a small tavern, a local delicacy they say even though I had never had it. It burns my tongue as I chew, but the taste would have been enough for me to eat 10 more. I thank the keeper, leaving a generous tip as I leave and get swept with the crowd again. 

I spent the rest of the day down at the village, hardly caring that everyone in the palace would be looking for me, the runaway princess. Because for the first time in my life, I found myself feeling happy.