78Okay. I'm hesitant to post this first chapter, because I know that I can do better, I'm just not sure how yet. :) Hopefully, my writing will improve as the story evolves (don't you hate that word?) and it won't be so choppy and annoying to read in the future. :) Thank you thank you and hugs to my wonderful beta, InChrist-Billios, who took time to help me with this. I really appreciate it! :)
The kingdom of Eldon was not very superstitious - not anymore. There had once been tales of a curse that was put on the fair kingdom, but after generations and generations, most people stopped telling those tales and then they were forgotten.
They were just stories, after all - and the odd weather they had? Just a coincidence. After years of the same thing occurring, it no longer seem odd or out of place.
For nine months out of every year, the kingdom would be saturated in sunshine: so much sunshine, that everyone's skin grew very dark from working out in the hot sun. (Well, almost everyone's.)
The crops, as you can imagine, never fared well, but crops were always that way in Eldon. They bought much of their food from neighboring kingdoms, instead.
Their year was divided into just two seasons: "The Sunny Season" and "The Raining Season." Farmers spent the Sunny Season worrying about their crops and the Raining Season - also worrying about their crops. They were decidedly happier during the second part, though, and despite the drought and the constant rain, the people were content.
Time was running out for the people of Eldon, though, they did not know it yet.
Celia was running late - again. Never mind the fact that it wasn't her fault this time.
Sven, the town baker, would never let her come in, pay for the baked goods, and just leave. First she had to listen to the latest town gossip before he would even load up her basket and take her coins. She had never known a man who could talk for so long a time about nothing at all. He was a bigger gossip than any woman she had ever met. If Sven knew about a piece of gossip by dawn, then surely the whole kingdom would be subjected to every sordid detail before the noon meal.
Today's poor targeted soul was the Princess Tanja, the latest of the royal Princes' long list of cast offs. That made five just this week! Poor girl. Celia didn't know her, but she felt bad for her nonetheless.
Every lovely Lady and princess was vying for the handsome Prince's heart, but he was never satisfied with anyone.
She wondered what the problem was this time. She supposed she'd hear it soon enough, once she arrived at the palace. Was she too short? Too tall? Did she have a mole on the side of her nose that reminded him of a witch he was frightened of when he was a child? She giggled to herself. She would most assuredly have to ask him that particular question.
You see, the Crown Prince of Eldon was her very best friend and had been since they were children. It was an arrangement that the Queen grudgingly allowed, in respect for Celia's father, who had once saved the kings' life in battle.
Both of their fathers were gone now, but the Queen still remained civil to her. Certain boundaries however, were never crossed. He was still the Crown Prince, and she was still a servant. He lived in the palace with all it's grandeur, and she lived in the same small run down cottage that she had lived in her entire life.
None of that mattered to them, though. They were as close as any brother and sister would be. The Prince was her only real friend - and now that her parents were gone, he was the only person she had in the world.
He looked out for her, and likewise, she looked out for him. She always warned him when a new "candidate" was coming up the drive and she would tell him how each one had privately treated the servants during their stay.
Yes, he was her protector, and she was his spy. She giggled again. She had to remind him today that they would have to come up with some carrier pigeons soon. The running up and down the palace steps between chores to tell him her latest information was getting to be too much!
A light mist began to fall from the clouds that had been looming overhead as she ran. Wonderful, she thought, glumly. The Raining Season is upon us. Celia wondered if she was the only person in the whole kingdom who hated the rain. The smiling faces of the peasants and farmers, who had gathered in the town square, whooshed past her as she ran.
She picked up her skirts and her pace, while she struggled with the hood of her cloak and juggled her heavy basket. Celia had never been good at doing several things at once.
Drops fell onto her hood as she ran, which did nothing to protect her hair from getting wet. All of her clothes were worn and threadbare. Usually it made no difference, until the Raining Season.
Phillip had tried to have new clothes made for her in the past, but his mother intervened quickly. It was another rule that was added to the long list of rules concerning Celia. The list seemed to be growing daily. Usually, she didn't mind. She always felt guilty receiving things from him, anyway. It was at times such as this, though, that she wished she could accept them.
Celia looked up at the rapidly darkening sky and frowned. This was exactly how the sky looked when her mother and father had died. When the wind storm came.
She was only twelve years old when it happened, but she remembered every minute detail of that day. The now familiar lump began to form in her throat and she forced it down and concentrated, instead, only on running.
She was now very late. Faye, the head cook, was going to have her flogged. This must be the third time this week! She really did have to get those carrier pigeons. She wondered how much bread a pigeon could carry, and if it would be made to listen to Sven's gossip too.
A large flash of lightning, followed by a loud clap of thunder, sounded overhead. Then the rain began to pour.
"Oh NO! The bread!" Celia yelled out as she picked up her already frantic pace. Everyone around her was doing much the same.
By the time she made it to the kitchen door, she was dripping with water, her long, thick auburn waves were plastered to her back, her shoes were squeaking, and the bread was soggy. She felt Faye's presence before she actually saw her and cringed inwardly. She had never dealt well with being yelled at. Even now, before Faye had even started, she could feel the prickling behind her eyes. Faye, had unfortunately discovered Celia's weakness early on and used that knowledge to her advantage. Celia cried often.
"YER LATE! Her Majesty has been requesting her bread and butter fer the past half hour!"
Why-oh-why had Phillip chosen today to dismiss Tanja? Surely, he could have waited for tomorrow, when Faye was having her day off! Then she wouldn't have had to listen to Sven for half an hour!
"Yes, Miss Faye. I am very sorry. I was held up by Sven, He refu.."
"SILENCE yer mouth! I'm tired of you and yer excuses! Ev'ry mornin' it's somethin' new with you! Yer very lucky I'm in a good mood on account o' the rain! What I should be doin' is kickin' your scrawny drippin' person out in it!
Celia cringed. She had to get away from Faye as quickly as possible. Already she was getting choked up - and Faye was just getting started. She had moved past yelling and had now moved on to screaming in Celia's face.
"You should be thankin' me that you still have this job! If it weren't for me sticking up fer ya' with her Majesty, you would be out on the street right now!"
Celia knew she had done no such thing. Sticking up for her, indeed! She knew the things that Faye really said about her to the Queen, but she held her tongue, sucked in a deep breath, screwed up every ounce of courage, and replied,
"Yes, Miss Faye. I thank you sincerely, Miss Faye."
- and curtsied. There! she thought. Phillip will be very proud of me when I tell him how well I handled Miss Faye today! Several servant girls, who had gaped with open mouths when Celia began her smart reply, began to giggle. Faye shot them a murderous glare and they quickly turned back to their sink full of suds and were quiet.
"You think you're a lady now, don't ya' - usin' all them fancy words and curtsies. Let's see how much of a lady you feel after you've finished washin' the grease pots. When you're done wi' those, you can take all those piles of dirty aprons and scrub 'em. Now be gone with you! I don't want to see yer face anymore!"
Blast! Her plan had backfired. But it was almost worth it, knowing that for a few shining moments in her otherwise bleak morning, she had gotten the upper hand - almost.
"If that was the shining moment, then the darkness is very close at hand,"she murmured to herself as she made her way to the back of the stables, where Faye usually ordered them taken to be cleaned.
The "grease pots," as they were called by Miss Faye, were the pots that were used for frying large meat. Faye believed that the longer the grease sat in the pots, the better the meat that was cooked in them tasted; therefore, they were only washed every few months. (Celia had made sure to tell Phillip to never, under any circumstances eat anything from the kitchen that had been fried). It took hours to get just one clean. Faye always gave this job out as a punishment to whomever was getting on her nerves most. Celia was doing this job a lot lately.
She marched to the stables, like a soldier going to war, a huge pot in each hand, dreading the task ahead, and knowing what must be done. (Really, they were that bad.) As she passed, she heard someone laughing. She looked up to see Evan, a newcomer to Eldon, laughing at her sorry predicament as if it was the funniest thing he'd seen.
"Did you make Faye mad already today, Celey?"
Celey! Why did he insist on calling her that? It was beyond annoying. She gave him a half smile, turned her face, which was now bright red, away from him, and kept walking. She could still hear him laughing when she made it to the back of the stables.
Evan was a seventeen year old boy, and as such, just as annoying. She should have stuck her tongue out at him, but she didn't think she could handle being brave twice in one day. She wondered why on earth all the other young girls were so crazy about him. He seemed just like every other bothersome boy she had ever known. Well, Phillip was alright. Still annoying,
"But at least he would have offered to help me carry these heavy disgusting, greasy pots," she grumbled.
She remembered Sarah, a young maid swooning over his good looks and charms just this morning and she thought out loud,
"He's not that wonderful."
She heard him laugh a few yards away from her. Her head shot up to see him leaning against the back stable wall. Oh good grief! Did he just hear that? She could feel her face getting red. And he laughed even harder. She changed her mind and stuck her tongue out at him anyway. It didn't make him stop laughing, just the opposite, he was laughing so hard, that he was doubled over, but at least she felt a little better. Men were so stupid. Honestly, it wasn't that funny!
"Oh, go away Evan!"
With an exaggerated sigh, she decided that she was just going to ignore him for the rest of the day. Her face returned to it's orginal shade of pale white while she worked. She had finished cleaning 2 pots and was doing a very successful job of ignoring everthing around her - which was why she didn't notice him at first when he returned to the back of the barn a while later. When she did look up from her scrubbing, he was running in her direction at full force.
"Get down! Celey, get DOWN!"
At the very moment that she heard her name, the wind picked up and began to blow her hair in all directions. Her entire body froze, scrub brush in hand. She started to hyperventilate. Every fear that she had kept locked away from that day years ago came crashing down around her. She couldn't will her body to move. She saw the tree fly by in the corner of her eye just as something heavy knocked her to the ground.
That's all for now! I could edit this chapter for hours and still not be satisfied, I think, so after receiving some wise council from my wonderful beta, I've decided to leave it be for a while. As I was writing the bit about the carrier pigeons and how much bread they could carry, I found myself quoting Monty Python jokes in my head. :)