We are finally ready to start the journey to Kustrington. I instructed my maids to pack my finest thick winter dresses and fur shawls, considering the weather in Kustrington is always frightfully cold. The journey will take around eleven hours by boat, which will be tiresome, but my father did build me my own suite so I will have time to relax and write poetry. Kustrington is actually the closest country to Aswela, but we have much more moderate and sustained temperature.
We are travelling in The Isoline, named after my mother, which takes one hundred men to row. With four masts and beautifully made pink sails, it is very extravagant and captures the attention of any who lay their eyes upon it. Portraits of my mother are in every room, as well as flowers and silk – her two favourite things.
Dozens of servants are travelling with us, and the ship is packed to the brim with gifts for the new King. I am most happy to have left my two tiresome ladies in waiting behind at the castle; Lady Drusilla and Lady Fae. They are always complimenting me frivolously and lying to make me happy, which I really do not appreciate. Also, they always find a reason to squeal and gossip about the latest scandals, giving me many ear-splitting headaches. It is fun to boss them around though, and watch them trip over themselves to go above and beyond my requests. Rene, my harpist, is travelling with us, as the harp is my favourite instrument and soothes my nerves better than any therapist could.
Currently we are two hours into the journey, floating through the sea that is the playground of dolphins and the sanctuary of whales, and I am rocked like a baby in loving arms. I love being out at sea, but imagine being able to fly! That is the real dream. My large crystal windows have been opened, so I feel the winds gust with the tempo of a fiddle, dancing with long and short bows and punctuated by soulful silence whilst swirling through my long locks. The ocean is my favourite place. I have such fond memories of my mother taking me to the beach and teaching me how to swim as a child. I always feel closest to her out here, bobbing on the gentle waves, and make sure to savour my time since I am hardly ever out at sea.
A little later on my personal maids help me into my dinner gown and escort me to the dining room where I shall be eating with my father and his advisors. They go everywhere he goes. The conversation is tedious and dreary, mostly circling around my cousin Tobias' inexorable elevation to the throne. They talk as if my father is going to drop dead at any given minute! Eventually I excuse myself when I start seriously contemplating about stabbing my eyes out with my fine gold fork, and escape back to my bedroom collapsing on the four-poster bed. I am awoken a few hours later by my maid Cassie, who informs me we only have an hour until we are due to dock.
Even though I slept (uncomfortably mind you with my corset on) I still feel fatigued considering it is the dead of the night. I am bundled up in shawls of the finest fur and sheepskin, but still as I step out onto the decks, already covered in a layer of snow, I shiver. It is snowing as usual, a phenomenon I have not seen for many years. The snow dances in the torch light, a choreographed ballet conducted by the gentle wind, causing a smile to bloom upon my face. Above the heavens glow, as a thousand pinprick stars illuminate the unassailable skies, casting an ethereal glow on my surroundings.
I am helped off the gently bobbing ship by two Kustrinese guards dressed in black (probably to signify the countries mourning of its King), and compared to me are wearing nothing at all. They must be used to the whippy wind and biting cold. I then enter into a carriage pulled by two grey and white speckled horses, stamping their hooves in protest to the cold, but wearing black coats and comical socks to keep them warm. Unfortunately I have to wait for a while with the maids and Lord Baron's odd daughter who I would rather not spend time with, as the help load up some of my luggage. What kind of country does not have enough carriages for a visiting princess to travel alone to her accommodation?
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Being the Spoilt Princess
Historical FictionPrincess Bellatrix HATES the idea of getting married. All men are pigs to her, so when her father announces she has been betrothed to a Prince of less brain cells then a flea, she does what she does best and rebels. But then fate steps in and she...
