The Nine Princesses Novel

Chapter 18: Art Princess

Ivy decided to take her walk in the gallery.

It wasn't unusual. She used the gallery for her walks on days of rain or snow. Or when she heard a strange noise outside. Or the air felt unwholesome. Or there was talk of bandits roaming the land to attack women for their hair.

She felt a twinge in her stomach whenever she thought of it. At last year's festival, Ivy had purchased a strand of blonde hair and had it woven into her own, enjoying the shiny blend of gold with her orange. Now she wondered if that strand had been viciously stolen from an unfortunate girl somewhere.

That was last year. Before we heard about the bandits, Giles said. Giles always accompanied Ivy on her walks. And everywhere else. He was the perfect companion because her sisters couldn't see him.

It still might've been stolen, Ivy replied. He gave an understanding nod. He had brown eyes, Giles, and a good-humored face. Boyish rather than mannish. And hair just as red as her own—it was something they laughed at together.

But it's also just as likely someone honestly obtained it, Giles said. Don't worry about what you cannot know.

Ivy nodded. She hated the way her worries stuck to her like tree sap, never fully washing off. Sometimes Giles could talk them down with her, and sometimes Heidel. Heidel was actually better, but Ivy didn't like to bother her with her panic-of-the-hour. If it got really bad, she went to Heidel. For the rest, she had Giles.

The gallery was on the second floor, directly above the throne room and just as big. Ivy loved the sprawling tapestries, the paintings stuffed in gaudy frames. Battle scenes were not her favorite, but she enjoyed landscapes and florals, and especially depictions of life. People doing ordinary, everyday things—that's what Ivy herself liked to paint.

She stopped in front of a massive painting showing a queen holding an infant in her birthing bed. The figures weren't realistic, having elongated bodies and narrow limbs - a common artistic style. But Ivy knew the infant was her mother, Runa, whose own mother had suffered two stillbirths before welcoming a daughter. No other children followed. Runa spent her whole life being celebrated as her parents' precious miracle.

"It was before this very painting your father and I discussed having children," Runa had told her daughters. "We settled on nine girls, never thinking it would truly happen." She smiled with so much pride. "We are truly blessed."

Did she feel blessed to have a crippled daughter? Ivy had never found the courage to ask. She'd felt loved by her parents, no less than her sisters. But one conversation she'd had with her father forever left her in doubt.

Don't, Giles warned her. Don't let your mind go that way.

Ivy couldn't help it.

*********

"Tell me how you found me," Ivy said to her father. He insisted on carrying her up to bed every night, even in her tenth year. He never trusted the stairs. She never objected to his sturdy arms. It was better than being hugged.

Dellan chuckled. "Iviana...."

"I like hearing it!"

"They were selling babies at the market and I bought the cutest one."

"That's not it!"

"Then tell it back to me, since you know it so well."

Ivy grinned and adjusted her hands around his neck. "You were in the Kingdom of the Favored Gaze, where the fever was still raging. Somehow, the people had already heard about the travelling king who was adopting babies. You thought nothing of it. You stayed at an inn and went to sleep in your room. When you came out the next morning, no less than seventeen baby girls lay in baskets outside your door."