A Royal Dilemma

Isabelle wiped her hands on her gray riding pants, smearing mud on them from her time out in the rain. She coaxed her horse, Black Knight, into his stable for the evening.

“Good boy,” she whispered, gently petting his nose. “And Merry Christmas, my knight.”

She reached into a bucket of apples, a special treat for the horses on Christmas Eve, and fed it to Black Knight. He heartily accepted it. Sighing, she leaned against the wooden wall and shook the dirt loose from her riding boots. She’d rather spend the evening with her horse in muddy clothes than dress up in a gown for an evening at the castle. Christmas Eve was a night of pretentious conversations fraught with silent tension and competition among the royal family of Vegalahn. This year was bound to be terrible. This year, she would tell her family that she was not going to be a royal.

They had to have known deep down. Future queens simply did not romp around with horses all day and sword fight with their supposedly inferior servants. Five years ago, when she’d turned fifteen, her father had warned her then. You must behave like a lady fit for a crown, or you will lose the crown. He never asked her if she wanted it in the first place.

Black Knight grunted, sensing Isabelle’s dismay. “Alright, Knight. I know. I’ve got to get this over with.”

She kissed her horse on his nose and ensured her saddle was put away. As she left the stables, she paused for a moment at the door, enjoying the smell of horses and the black sky above her, twinkling with stars. This was her Christmas moment. But the moment passed, and she hurried toward the castle in the distance. It was a looming tower that had been decorated with enough Christmas lights to rival the stars. Once inside, her handmaid, Polly, eyed her muddy clothes and clucked at her with disdain.

“Your poor hair, my lady,” Polly scolded. Isabelle apologized, although she was not truly sorry, and allowed her handmaid to coax her into a hot bath, soap her hair into a lavender lather, and set her wavy locks into braids interwoven with red satin ribbons. Polly fitted her in a red gown that split open in the back, creating a v-shape down to Isabelle’s waist, with a barely visible netting of gold glitter covering Isabelle’s back.

Polly always said red was Isabelle’s color. It pulled out the blush of her cheeks against her stark black hair and warm brown eyes. But looking in the mirror, Isabelle barely recognized herself. Two hours ago, she’d been galloping in the wind on Black Knight, her hair whipping against her cheeks as rain poured down and mud splashed her boots. She stared at her reflection and felt that she might break against the strain of being both elegant and wild.

Isabelle made her way to the sitting room where her parents, the King and Queen of Vegalahn, would be waiting for her. Her younger sister Marie would be there as well. Her Uncle John, the Duke of Vegah County, and his two sons, Nicholas and Harold, would also be there. And lining the sides of the room would be multiple servants and one royal guard. Caden. The one person in the castle who refused to look at her. Not since the summer of her eighteenth year, when he’d been chastised for taking her out riding and bringing her back late into the night. It was cause for suspicion, the Captain of the Royal Guard had warned Caden. And Isabelle knew, they had right to be suspicious. Caden was ever present since that day, and yet never present with her. Even the red of her dress and the blush on her cheeks would not pull his gaze.

“Isabelle,” her father smiled as she entered. “Finally.”

A greeting and a jab at the same time.

“Father,” she acknowledged. She observed the room. A tall Christmas tree lined with gold lighting and red bows stood proudly in the middle of the room. Beaded garlands were strung on the wall, breaking every now and then to feature giant wreaths with berries hanging from them. A fireplace warmed the room while Marie played a Christmas tune on the piano. Extravagant. Beautiful. But Isabelle wanted her apples and her horse.

Uncle John smiled. “Isabelle. You’re twenty now, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” She had known Uncle John would not waste time with pleasantries.

“So it’s time then. This is the year.”

“It is.”

“And my Lord, have you told her?” Uncle John turned toward her father, questioning.

Isabelle had been told. Her father had picked a suitor. He was a prince from Sandalahn. They were to be married at six months past her twentieth year. Their marriage would bring an alliance for their two kingdoms.

“She knows,” her father acknowledged. “Sit, and have some Christmas treats, darling.”

As if she were a five-year-old that could be coaxed into marriage with peppermint candy. Grudgingly, she sat in a chair, but did not take the candy.

“I have heard of the arrangement,” she stated, her voice shaking. “But I will not be marrying the Prince of Sandalahn.”

She heard Caden intake a sharp breath, a break in his rank and duty.

“Isabelle,” her mother warned.

“What is this?” her Uncle John laughed. “A princess refusing to marry a prince from the most powerful kingdom in the world?”

Isabelle soured. “He’s dull. And he can barely keep his balance on his horse.”

“He’s powerful by virtue of his position,” Uncle John admonished.

“Not in his position on a horse. He would fail in any battle, and he knows it.”

Isabelle knew Uncle John wanted access to mines in Sandalahn to increase his personal wealth. He cared not for Vegalahn’s people, and least of all for Isabelle.

“You must marry, Isabelle. You know this.” Her mother sat across form her, the perfect picture of a queen in a long gold gown that shimmered from her neck to her ankles. A picture of luxury and rigidity. She was all that Isabelle did not want to be. “It is a tradition in our family. Girls must marry in their twentieth year to be eligible for the crown.”

Isabelle snickered. “Then I’m not eligible for the crown. Give it to Maria.”

Her father’s fist slammed on a table decorated in candles and gifts. They shook violently with the impact. Marie abruptly stopped playing the piano. “Isabelle! This is Christmas. Enough of your antics. You will marry whom I choose, and that is the end of it.”

“I will not marry the Prince of Sandalahn. Marriage to him is the equivalent of linking myself to a stupid, old boar who will grow fat on his greed and pride.”

“You will bring down this kingdom with your insolence!” Her father was shouting now.

With her heart beating rapidly, she persisted. “I will not! The people do not want this monarchy any longer. Haven’t you seen their protests in the streets? They do not want the Prince of Sandalahn. They do not want a royal family! They want freedom from our laws. They want to choose their own leader. They know what nearby lands have done.”

But Isabelle knew that her family did not understand. They didn’t take to street markets, as she did, or visit innkeepers in secret. They sent the Royal Guard out to quash protests, but never met with the town leaders to understand the reason for the protests. They lived primarily in their own castle grounds, far from the people. It wasn’t that Isabelle did not care for the people of Vegalahn. She believed that she cared the most of all.

She heard the chatter of traders coming off the ships in Vegah Bay. She was interested in their tales of nearby lands that had overthrown their monarchy and selected their own leaders to rule. Meanwhile, her people sat mired in filth, ruled by a luxurious few clothed in royal robes, taxed to the point of poverty. She knew many in Vegalahn would go hungry and cold this Christmas night, and she felt the weight of the blame fell on royal hands. Hands like Uncle John’s, whose hands were frequently manicured and full of money from his county’s high taxes.

“I will lock you in your quarters with Polly until your day of marriage!” her father threatened.

He had never done so, yet he had threatened to do it hundreds of times. But he was red-faced tonight, with his kingdom on the line. Isabelle was not entirely sure this time. Would he truly lock her away?

“I want to leave for Sandalahn with Caden in the morning,” she insisted. She did not dare glance at Caden, but her family stared at him, jaws dropped. Her father was frozen. The servants knew of Caden and Isabelle’s late-night adventures to the castle kitchen to eat cookies together when they were fourteen. But to escape Vegalahn together and stand against the king? Even the servants were glued in place, staring at Caden in shock.

Caden mumbled, “I… I don’t know of this plan, my Lord.”

Isabelle turned in her chair to face him then. His face was pure confusion. “Caden will take me to Sandalahn as my guard. I will inform the Prince that I will not be marrying him. I will speak to him personally with the hope of avoiding any public announcement. I know I can persuade the prince to set aside this engagement and avoid any public humiliation for you, Father.”

“And who will be queen if you defy the law?” said her cousin, Nicholas, as he looked at her with curiosity. “Marie?”

“Marie is ten years old!” Uncle John glanced at little Marie, who had left her piano to play with a doll by the fireplace. “It will be another ten years before she can marry a prince in Sandalahn! We have been waiting for you, Isabelle.”

“And in that time,” Isabelle continued, “may you hear the voice of your own people calling for the end of this royal family. I will not reign over these people.”

Her father shook his head. “I mean it, Isabelle, I will confine you to your quarters until the day of your marriage!” This time she realized her father was speaking the truth. It panicked her.

She gathered up her red gown, which dragged underfoot and threatened to trip her. Quickly, she moved to stand in front of Caden. “Caden, come with me.”

“Guard, do not move!” Her father stalked over to Caden and stood nose to nose with him. “Or you will lose your position in the Royal Guard, and your family will be disgraced.”

“Caden,” Isabelle whispered, meeting his eyes. She was pleading. He stared at her, his blue eyes a melting pot of emotions. Bravery, fear, panic, confusion, desire. “Your family is disgraced already, living in tattered coats with holes in their roof. This royal line cannot continue. You know this.”

But she knew Caden had sworn an oath to protect her family to his death. He blinked, but did not move.

“I will go alone then!” she cried desperately. She fled the sitting room. Isabelle heard her mother urging her father to do something. At the castle door, she threw off her heels. She reached down to the parts of her dress that dragged on the ground and violently tore at the hem until the dress reached only her knees. She heard Polly calling after her and whipped around to face her handmaid. “Polly, not now!”

“Your cloak, my lady,” Polly mumbled, offering up a thick green cloak.

Isabelle grabbed it, surprised, and threw it over shoulders. “My thanks, Polly.”

Then Isabelle ran for the stables. Behind her, she heard her father mobilizing the Royal Guard.

“Chase her!” he shouted.

She ran faster. Her legs were used to the work. Tearing open the doors to the stables, she startled Black Knight. He whinnied when he saw her in a frenzy. She grabbed the saddle and reins, brought him out of the stable and prepared him for riding. She slipped into new riding boots and jumped atop him.

“Run, Knight!” She kicked his sides, and he stirred into action. He galloped into the night with Isabelle’s woven silk braids flying behind her. “To the forest!”

Nearing the thick line of trees, she heard the pounding thunder of hoof prints as the Royal Guard’s horses roared closer.

“Faster, Black Knight!” she yelled. She could not risk a glance behind her, but only gripped the reins and leaned forward, urging on her horse. “Faster, I say!”

They flew into the darkness of the forest trees, both familiar with the pathways. Winding through overgrown bushes, Black Knight leapt over fallen tree logs in haste. Isabelle had no food on her, no plan. Her original plan was to have left for Sandalahn the next morning with her parents’ permission and Caden at her side. But she was an impulsive girl. Things rarely went to plan and she rarely acted with patience. All the more reason she could not be queen.

“Halt, my lady!” The Royal Guard was shouting behind her, but she knew they would not pull an arrow on her nor would they take any action to harm her. As she raced Black Knight in a rapid zig zag formation, she could hear the guards falling behind. Time blurred by, and she raced on, her body aching from its grip on Black Knight. Eventually, she could no longer hear the hoof prints of the Royal Guard. As silently as a thief, she led Black Knight into a cove of dark trees, barely able to see what lay in front of her. She cautiously dismounted.

“Quiet now, my knight,” she whispered. “We can rest.”

A creak bubbled nearby and she led Black Knight for a drink. She kneeled next to him and splattered her face with ice cold water, concerned about the next day. Could she go to Sandalahn alone to face the prince? Would Sandalahn guards even believe she was Isabelle, Princess of Vegalahn, with her dress torn and her hair a mess? Could she influence the prince to reject their marriage? And if she refused to marry and continue the royal line, would the people of Vegalahn find the courage to govern themselves?

Suddenly, she felt like crying. She had just left everything – everything – behind. And for what? For a hope and a dream born of desperation. Her back was stiff and her fingers were frozen. She wanted to sleep, but was terrified that the Royal Guard would find her and return her to be locked up in the castle. So she simply sat in the silence and let a tear slip down her face.

Snap!

The breaking of a twig made her jump to her feet. Black Knight immediately came to attention. Thieves, she thought, fearing the worst. She peered into the darkness, afraid. She had no weapon to defend herself, so she used her boot to feel the ground for a long stick that she might use as a flimsy sword.

A deep voice spoke. “Isabelle.”

Caden.

“You’re here!” she gasped.

“I’m here.” He stepped closer to her, and she could see his shadow now. Wavy hair trailed into his eyes, blown loose from the exertion of chasing her. Of course he would find her, she thought. He knew all her secret hiding places.

Isabelle breathed, relief filling her bones. Caden brushed his hand through his hair, and she saw that he was shaking. “What on earth were you thinking, Isa?”

“You know what I was thinking.” Stepping toward him, she asked, “I thought you wouldn’t come. I really thought you wouldn’t. You…wait, you do mean to come with me, right?”

“Yes. I don’t want you to go alone.”

“You’ve risked everything.”

“You’ve risked everything.” True. “And I believe in what you’re fighting for.”

She nodded. “My family will hate me.”

“Not always. You seek the best for Vegalahn.” He said this only to ease her anxiousness, but she knew the truth. Leaving the royal family was not an act to be forgiven. “We should get moving while it is dark. Your father will have more guards out searching for you in the morning. He doesn’t want you to make it to Sandalahn to speak with the prince.”

“Yes, I agree. Let’s go together.” Caden had left his horse tied by rope to a tree at the forest line so as not to be tracked. Together, Isabelle and Caden mounted Black Knight.

“Caden,” she whispered.

“Yes, Isa.”

“Thank you.” Two words that held a thousand moments of gratitude. She knew when the Royal Guard found Caden’s horse, he would never be able to regain his position.

He sighed heavily. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

They rode carefully into the night, cautious to avoid detection. At times, Caden dismounted and hid their tracks. When he came back to ride with her, she breathed in his scent of pine and cinnamon and felt the past two years of coldness between them slowly melt away.

She had abandoned her family and the castle of lights. She didn’t know what lay ahead. The future held only uncertainty and struggle. But it also held freedom. So she urged Black Knight onward.