The Forbidden Lands (Wattys 2015 Winner)

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Picture of Assana above!
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The king returned, wearing a more stately gown and elaborate crown.

She handed me a bundle of clothes. "Here. Now you can fit in better."

I hid behind a tree to change. Taking off my dirty tunic felt heavenly. I had always liked leggings, but, recently, I had come to despise the way they chafed. I slipped the gown over my head, and it fluttered past my waist and settled on the ground. I put on the pair of bloomers, and admired the fabric of the dress. It was silky and light, in a sea green color. It tied in the front, so I laced it as tight as it could go. But the neckline was still too low. And it dragged on the ground.

I groaned. "Your Majesty," I called. "A little help, please?"

She walked over to me and laughed at the way I held up the gown's neckline with my hand. She took the laces and looped them into a set of holes in the back, and tied them tightly. The neckline was fixed, but . . . I gestured down to the skirt.

"You are a small thing, aren't you, Evelin Fendway," she laughed. "You will just have to let it drag."

"Fine," I said. "It's beautiful though, isn't it."

"Yes, it was mine when I was twelve."

I frowned.

"How old are you, anyway?" she laughed.

"Fifteen," I said, without a hint of humor. "Almost sixteen."

Assana giggled.

My frown deepened. "Humans are smaller than merrow," I fibbed.

"Nice try," she chided. "But I've met a human before, remember? You are an extra small one."

"Let's just go to your little opera," I said, wanting to change the topic.

"No, I need to do something about your hair, first," she said. "When was the last time you combed it?"

"About a week ago."

"I'm glad I do not have human hair. It is so tangled." She pulled out a comb and began ripping it through me hair. I winced.

"Do merrow even have to comb their hair?" I asked.

"No," she said.

"Where did you get that comb, then?"

"That human gave it to me. He thought we combed our hair."

"He must not have paid much attention to you."

"No," she sighed. "He paid much more attention to my father. I wish I would've noticed."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"So am I," she said. "Being King is too hard for me. I'm not ready. I wish my father was here. He could help me, guide me in these decisions."

"I think you've done well," I said. "Your people love you."

"No," Assana said, shaking her head, "they loved my father, so they feel obligated to love me, as well." She finished combing my hair. "What do I do now?"

"You braid it or tie a ribbon around it, or something."

"We twist our hair up sometimes," she said. "Do you think that would work on your hair?"

"Probably." She twisted my hair tightly and pined it to my head. It felt elegant.

"There," she said. "Much better. You look beautiful." She opened up her knapsack and pulled out some sort of rogue. She applied it to me lips and cheeks. "Go see your reflection."