The Hands of Fate

Chapter 7

From that day on, Farah was put to far more strenuous work by the King and Queen. It was almost as if they knew her and Caspian were spending time together, and this was their way of tearing them apart.

Farah knew that her and Caspian were complete opposites in status, and she knew that he was engaged; but she also understood that her and Caspian were friends and nothing more. And yet she couldn't help but wonder if they were just friends. Since that day in the gazebo, when Caspian had hugged her, she wasn't sure if she'd felt something more. She couldn't quite tell whether or not she had really experienced that strange emotion, or if she'd imagined it all.

Farah carried a basket weaved from straw. The heavy carrier sagged with clothes that had been washed and dried around an hour ago. She walked down the hallways briskly, humming a tune to herself. Occasionally, she would stop and admire the portraits for a few moments before continuing on. She did love all of the paintings of the previous Kings and Queens of Allenia. Since she had learned to read, King Albert was her favorite, since he spoke of equal rights for all. Although the higher classes of Allenia didn't like him, Farah could only imagine what he was like. He must've been an exceptional King.

She heard a slam from a door and jumped abruptly, dropping the basket of clothes. Farah quickly swooped down and picked them up, seeing a woman stomping towards her. She immediately recognized the Princess, Caspian's 'bride to be.' Her rosy cheeks were flushed with anger, and her long fawn colored hair swayed at her animated movements. The Princess' eyes bore aggravation and hatred as she glared at Farah, who's lips parted slightly. What was the problem?

"Where are my clothes?" She semi-screeched, her eyes blazing with annoyance.

"I-I have them here your majesty," Farah bowed deeply. The Princess stormed forwards, gripping onto the bag to take it from Farah, causing the maid to frown. There were other people's clothes in the basket, not just Amara's. She gripped the bin, which was beginning to weaken due to their game of tug o' war. "Your majesty, you must understand that-"

"I want my clothes! I have nothing to wear! Nothing! Now give me that or I will rip it from your very fingers, filthy-"

"Amara?" A voice came from behind Farah. Amara's expression lightened as she turned her attention from the maid, giving a lovely smile to the person behind her.

"Ah, Caspian, I was just asking your little servant for my clothes back," the Princess said through gritted teeth. She had let go of the basket and Farah, who had slightly fallen back, turned around to see the Prince. He looked shocked to see his fiancee fighting with her. She shook her head slightly at him and he understood immediately, they had a sort of communication system without words, as if they could read features.

"Amara, dear, we are needed in the throne room. My mother and father wish to speak with us. You must come straight away. Besides, you look lovely."

Amara smiled at his words. She seemed to be convinced, but Farah furrowed her brow. He didn't mean those words and she knew it. Caspian nodded Farah off as Amara approached him. The two then left, leaving Farah to walk in one direction while the royal couple continued the other way.

This gave her time to think, and she wished it didn't, as her brain immediately spun into a worry of thoughts. Why did she feel like Caspian was lying to Amara? He loved the princess, didn't he? Wasn't that why he stayed with her for seven whole years?

Although a large part of her hoped that he did love Amara, a small portion prayed he didn't. Farah couldn't tell quite why she wished her friend didn't love his bride, but she had a feeling she didn't want to know the answer. Why did she suddenly feel so protective towards her closest friend? And if those thoughts weren't enough to worry her, another thought invaded her already filled head. What was Amara about to call her just a few moments ago? A filthy what? Servant? Maid? Or worse?