Princess Bones: Part Six

      The fabric was soft lavender, and the seamstress worked quickly, pinning here, stitching there. The green Zafara felt like one gigantic dress-up Usuki. It was a bit odd, but at the same time it was nice in a feminine way.

      “What about a shopkeeper?” Princess Saya asked from her spot seated cross-legged on the bed. The Shadow Xweetok was reading a book entitled 101 Brightvalian Occupations, trying to help Rina come up with something to convince the crowd she could do. They had started brainstorming the night before, but there hadn’t been enough time. Saya had been rushed off to fittings and tutoring sessions, and Rina was carted off to dinner and a few more awkward discussions with the king. And after being escorted to her room, Rina had quickly fallen asleep from exhaustion.

      “Shopkeeper?” Rina repeated, shaking her head so that her long hair swished from side to side. “Eh... I don’t think I want to sit in a shop all day. Next.”

      Saya flipped the page. “Farmer.”

      “I don’t think I can do that either. Too much physical labor. And I doubt I’m much of a farmer. I tried to keep a garden once in my backyard and... well, it didn’t end pretty.”

      Saya rubbed her face with her paw. She was already dressed in her gown, a fitted white dress with green embroidery that brought out her emerald eyes. “We don’t have much time, Rina. You need to choose something.”

      “I know, I know,” Rina said, frustrated with herself. “It’s just hard for me to decide what I want to do for the rest of my life! I mean, I didn’t exactly have my life planned out yet. All I ever wanted to do was pass Brightvalian History!”

      “How about this,” Saya said, standing up from the bed and drawing closer. “What are you good at?”

      “Good at?” Rina repeated. She shrugged and winced as a pin stabbed her shoulder. “Ouch.”

      “So sorry, Miss!” the seamstress, a skinny brown Moehog, squeaked.

      “It’s alright,” Rina said, gazing out through the palace window. It gave a good view of the gardens below, and the greenery was dotted with colorful Stars of Paradise, Autumn Sunset Daisies, and a row of tomatoes. Above the garden she could see a fairly good view of Brightvale, with its winding roads and quaint cottages, and the bright blue sky was dotted with clouds the consistency of Babaa wool.

      “I wish I had an easel,” she said wistfully.

      “What?” Saya asked.

      “An easel,” Rina repeated, turning towards the true princess. “The view out this window, it’d make for a pretty painting.” She paused, her thoughts clicking into place. “You don’t think I could become an artist, do you? As my job?”

      The Xweetok fiddled with her sleeve. “I don’t know. Becoming an artist isn’t exactly a surefire thing. You’d have to be pretty amazing. It may be hard to convince the people that you’ll be able to make a living out of it.”

      Rina frowned, her stomach sinking. “You’re right, I guess.” But she continued to stare out the window. She could already feel a paintbrush in her hand—no, the chalk pastels. She would use those to get the gentle feel of the greenery below. Or perhaps water colors to paint the delicate blues of the sky...

      Saya caught her gaze and sighed. “You know, Rina, there’s an easel somewhere in the castle. And some paints. If... if you really think that you can convince the people, we can give it a shot. But we need a back up, too. Just in case,” she added quickly.

      Rina felt her spirits rise. “Thanks, Saya,” she said with a bright smile. “And don’t worry, I’ll make it my best picture ever. You’ll see.”

     ***

      Rina wiped the chalk off her fingers and smiled contentedly. “Tada!” she said.

      “Whoa,” Saya said, her eyes wide. “That is gorgeous.”

      In the course of an hour, the canvas had been transformed from a blank stretch of beige to an explosion of color. Saya had opted for the chalk pastels, and was extremely happy that she had. The garden below looked soft and misty, like a forest that could only be found in faerietales. She had dotted the greenery with specks of color, which were flowers up close, but from far away could have been anything, from faeries, to figurines, to blobs of light.

      The houses came out as quaint cottages with thatched roofs of yellow, and the roads were daubed with the smudges of people. It was hard to make them out clearly, lending to the illusion that they were mere blurs in real life, bustling around town on important business.

      But Rina’s favorite part was the sky. She had blended in a few shades of blue, along with some subtle hints of pink along the horizon. It tied the whole piece together, and she was extremely proud of it.

      “Do you think it’s good enough?” she asked hesitantly, looking at the princess for approval.

      Saya smiled, but she had a wistful look on her face at the same time. “Definitely. Rina, I want to take this canvas from you right now and hang it up in my room. It’s stunning.”

      Rina felt her stomach unclench, but only slightly. “Thanks,” she said. “I just hope the people of Brightvale think the same...”

      Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. The two girls spun around and saw King Hagan standing in the doorway in all his splendor. He was dressed to a tee in a fine robe with a trailing green cape, and he was flocked by a few attendants. “Are you two ready?”

      “Yes, Father,” Saya said with a nod. She turned to Rina as the green Zafara stood up from her stool and carefully took the painting off the easel. “Ready?”

      She took a deep breath, letting air fill her lungs. “Ready.”

      The three of them (plus the five attendants/servants) filed down the immaculate halls, their fine shoes tapping on the floor. Rina’s lavender dress swirled around her as she walked, and blood pulsed heavily in her ears.

      “The front garden of the palace is filled with people,” King Hagan informed her, his tone concise. He adjusted a gold cuff link. “I will file out first, and then when I announce your names, you two will follow and make your way up onto the platform. The citizens do not yet know about you, Rina, so be prepared for some... rash reactions.”

      Rina winced, already imagining the worst. “Alright,” she mumbled.

      “I assume Renwick and Milleran are in the crowd as well,” Hagan continued. “None of the servants found them anywhere in the castle; I assume they both fled once they lost track of you yesterday. And Bennie, the moat guard, swears he spotted Milleran late last night in the distance. I’m sure they have a plan. They’ll try to sway the crowd to choose you as the next heir. You must be prepared for anything.”

      “Okay,” Rina choked out. The choker she wore around her neck, borrowed from Princess Saya’s extensive jewelry collection, seemed tighter than before. She was having trouble speaking.

      They drew closer and closer to the front of the castle. The doors loomed ahead, tall, elegant, and imposing. King Hagan pecked his daughter on the forehead and reached for the knob. However, before stepping through, he turned his head towards Rina. “Good luck.” And then he opened the door and disappeared into the outside world.

      Rina glanced over at Saya nervously as she heard a roar of applause at the King’s entrance. The princess, who had been perfectly composed, looked a bit shaken now. She was stunning in her dress, and her long dark hair was sleek and shiny, but her green eyes looked concerned. Rina had been so troubled about her own well being, she hadn’t even thought about Saya.

      “Are you alright?” she asked.

      “Of course,” Saya said quickly, but eventually she shook her head. “It’s a big day,” the Shadow Xweetok said. “I’ve been preparing for it for as long as I can remember. And... Rina, I want to let you know that in the day that I’ve known you, you’ve become like a sister to me, truly! But...” She trailed off, too embarrassed to finish.

      “You’re worried I might become the princess,” Rina finished.

      Saya nodded, and then laughed scornfully at herself. “Oh Fyora, I sound so selfish!”

      “No!” Rina said, shaking her head. “You have every right to want to be the princess! You deserve it!”

      “But what if they choose you? What will happen to me? I’m not a brilliant painter. I don’t have any talents. What would I be able to contribute to Brightvale?”

      “A lot of things,” Rina said. “You may be the heir to the Brightvalian throne, but you’re more than that. You’re brave. You saved me from Mr. Milleran and Dr. Renwick last night! And I’m su—”

      “...heir to the throne, my daughter, Princess Saya!” came Hagan’s voice through the door.

      Saya’s eyes widened. It was time for her to go on stage. Rina gave her a quick squeeze on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

      The true princess nodded nervously and took a deep breath. “Thanks, Rina.” And then she headed outside.

      Rina waited impatiently behind the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the attendants were watching her carefully, as if she were a loose cannon about to explode. Ignore them, she thought, staring straight ahead until she heard her name ring loud and clear: “Rina!”

      With a burst of strength, she pushed through the door. Sunlight blinded her for a moment, but that didn’t impair her sense of hearing. Everyone in the crowd gasped loudly, and she winced as everything came into focus.

      She was standing on top of a stage with a sea of Brightvalian citizens swarming around the base. King Hagan and Princess Saya were up there with her, and Hagan gestured for her to come over to him. Lifting her skirt carefully with one hand, and making sure she held a firm grip on the painting with the other, she made her way over to him as the crowd stirred anxiously.

      “What’s the meaning of this?” someone called out from the crowd. “Who is this girl?”

      “Rina,” the King announced loudly, silencing the townsfolk, “is also a legitimate heir to the throne, due to a loophole in the ancient Law of Bones. However, she has decreed that despite her eligibility, she does not wish to be the Princess of Brightvale.”

      This announcement seemed to calm the majority of the crowd. However, one lone figure yelled out in a deep and familiar voice, “I object!”

      Rina’s eyes immediately found the source: Dr. Renwick. The Desert Ruki was in the center of the crowd, his kohl-lined eyes gleaming with revenge. By his side was Milleran, but the Draik looked a bit out of place. He was shifting in his spot as if he was uncomfortable being in such close proximity to the doctor.

      “What is it, Renwick?” Hagan bellowed, his eyes dark. “What is it you have to say?”

      “Never before,” the Ruki announced, his voice reverberating loudly and clearly, “have I heard of a young girl who did not want to be a princess. And as she is not of your bloodline, King Hagan, I am under the impression that you forced her to step down from the post she rightfully deserves!”

      There was a murmur through the crowd. People turned to one another, whispering, “He has a point.” His words had struck a chord.

      “But it was my choice!” Rina shouted out, unable to maintain her silence anymore. “King Hagan didn’t force me to decide. I did!”

      “But you are not of age, and thus it is not up to you!” Renwick snarled triumphantly, waving a sheet of paper in his paw. “Right here I have the paper saying that I am the child’s legal guardian! And since she is so young, I reserve the right to make the choice for her. I declare that she is eligible to become the princess!”

      The crowd was in turmoil now, and Rina felt her stomach sink. Hagan looked over at her, giving her a significant look. She could almost hear his words in her head: It’s up to the crowd now.

      “Citizens of Brightvale!” he announced. “What the Doctor says is true. Rina is underage, and as her guardian”—he spit the word—“he has the right to declare that she is in the running to become Princess. However, the ultimate decision is up to you. It is up to the people of Brightvale to decide. You can either choose Saya, my daughter who is willing and ready to be your princess, or Rina, a girl who would rather return home to her life in Middleway than deal with the workings of the palace.”

      “You are shortchanging her!” Renwick complained loudly. He grabbed hold of Milleran at his side, dragging the Draik into view. “This is her teacher right here! He can vouch that Rina is an extremely bright girl, perfectly capable of running the kingdom. Plus, as a commoner, her mind has not been diluted with the views of the aristocracy. Right, Lyle?”

      The Brightvalian History teacher kept his head down, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Renwick shoved him in his side and he flinched. “He’s right,” he finally mumbled.

      “But I don’t know enough to be the ruler of a kingdom!” Rina protested desperately. “Look!” the Zafara shouted, and she held out the painting of the gardens. “Painting is my passion. I’d be a better citizen of Brightvale as an artist rather than a princess.”

      The crowd leaned inward and “oohs” rippled throughout as they laid their eyes upon the painting. Even King Hagan looked impressed, doing a double take when he saw the canvas in her hands. “You painted that?” he whispered.

      Rina nodded, her cheeks turning red.

      “Th-That,” Dr. Renwick stumbled, his eyes looking a bit frantic before he regained his composure, “is obviously a fraud. No one that young can paint something like that!”

      “Then let me prove it to you!” Rina said desperately, yelling to the crowd. “I’ll paint one for you right now, and then you can vote if you still want me to be a princess! Please, just let me prove it!”

      There came a sudden roar from the crowd, confused shouts and protests. Rina cringed, wondering if she had accidentally created a mob. But Hagan just clapped his hands and everyone settled down. “We shall give Rina her chance!” he said. He turned towards one of the palace servants located at the base of the stage. “An easel, please, and some paints!”

      A few moments later, an impromptu artist’s studio had been constructed on the stage. There was an easel, a stool, a collection of paints and paintbrushes, an artist’s palette, and a blank canvas as white as freshly fallen snow. Rina felt a bit odd as she took her seat, making sure the elegant lavender dress didn’t snag on anything.

      She was nervous, more nervous than she had ever been in her entire life. She felt the stares and glares of all the citizens of Brightvale on her like scalding rays of heat. However, before she could pick up a paintbrush to begin, the King turned towards her. His gaze was strong on her face, his eyes clear. “Paint, Rina,” he said, his words quiet but magnificently loud in her ear. “Paint as if your life depends on it... because in one sense, it does.”

To be continued...