I Am Royal

A New Half-Brother

They gave her a room in the west wing of the palace, away from the royal family. She was painfully aware of the coldness in the way the attendants treated her, and the fact that the room she'd been placed in was- in palace standards- the shabbiest they could provide. But it was still by far the finest room she had ever slept in, and she could hardly bring herself to walk across the plush red carpet when she had finally been left it peace.

The first thing she did was locate the bathroom. She delighted in taking a long, hot shower and washing away the layers of dirt and grime she had built up from days of gypsy travel. As she watched it swirl away down the drain, she thought that she had not cleaned up completely since her mother had died. In fact, in the days after her death she had not done much of anything, and had let the other woman in the troupe comfort her. She was really never motherless in the group, they were all family and as long as she could work, they would provide for her.

Then, a week after the death, her mourning began to change, and she got into the habit of slipping away at night to go into whatever town they were camped outside of, to be reckless and dangerous and forget the pain inside her. It was during one of those nights that the men came, and they stayed in the camp till morning waiting for her to return so they could question her about her mother's will. The will. Bah. Willow had brushed it off. A foolish claim, whatever her mother had been trying to say. They need not worry, she had been on her deathbed and had probably been delirious when she wrote it.

It had broken Willow's heart to say it, because inside she knew without a doubt her mother had known what she had been writing, and she would never lie like that. Somehow, for some reason, Prince Roger of Fengland was her father. But who wants a prince for a father? Maybe a girl who had never grown up with the freedom of her kind of life. Maybe a girl who had been raised to adore the storybook princess. But not Willow Maria Jane Cartier. She had been born a gypsy and she wanted nothing to do with her "father".

But, obviously, her opinion meant nothing. She could have cursed her mother for putting such information in her will, but every time she began to feel anger, her heart constricted in her chest, her breath began to come in gasps, and she felt her mind cloud, as if she wanted to die right there rather then live without her mother.

She tasted tears in her mouth mingled with the hot water of the shower and her hand went up to rub her cheek, as if she could still feel her mother's gentle hand there, wiping away the smudges of dirt and smiling her beautiful smile.

She reached over and turned the shower off, and stood dripping for a moment, lost in thought. Then she took a breath and stepped out into the spacious bathroom, which was steamy from the hot water.

Wrapped in a fluffy white towel she walked into the bedroom again, stepping fearlessly onto the carpet with her clean feet. She paused for a moment, and was faced with the realization that her only pair of clothes were lying in a dismal and dirty heap on the floor of the bathroom. For a moment she stood there, and then she began to tremble. She had been strong so far, keeping a hard face throughout it all, the whole ride to the palace, being escorted through security by a man who wouldn't speak to her, being given a cold shoulder by all the employees, and having to stay strong before Prince Roger himself. Now, at this dilemma, her defenses broke and she felt a hard lump forming in her throat and tears filling her eyes. She stopped them from spilling over and chastened herself for being such a woos.

That's when she noticed the bundle on the bed. She moved over to it and breathed a shuddering sigh of relief when she saw the jeans, blouse, light fleece jacket, and under things that had been left for her. They were all name-brands and fit her as well as she could expect. Starting to feel a bit better, she carefully wiped off her old boots and set them aside. She lay back on the bed, and was amazed by the softness. It felt like she would just continue to sink and sink into the plump pillows and downy covers. She pulled her new jacket tighter around her and curled up into a ball. She didn't even scold herself when she began to fall asleep.