I ran down the corridor toward the main entrance. I could hear my mother's footsteps echoing off the walls. Slamming into the door, I ran around the corner to the stables.
"Tomas!" I bellowed.
The stable hand poked his head out of a stall, wrinkling his forehead at the sight of me.
"Princess Evelyn? What are you doing out here? Your riding lesson isn't until tomorrow."
"I know. I need Guinevere."
"She's in the corral." He motioned toward the back of the barn.
"Saddle her. Quickly please!"
He stared at me in confusion, unsure if he should move.
"Now, man!"
"Is everything alright?"
"It won't be if you don't saddle the dam horse."
"Are you running from the queen again?"
I did something my mother hated most of all. I snorted.
"I'll take that as a yes." He shook his head and grabbed my black saddle from the rack.
"We can discuss how I shouldn't run from my mother tomorrow. Today, I run."
"Well, Guinevere is ready." He pulled on a strap around her belly and handed the reins over to me.
"When mother gets here, you didn't see me."
"Understood."
I climbed into the saddle and kicked her into a gallop while in the barn. We tore across the yard and into a clearing.
"Not the grass, Evelyn!" Mother screamed from the main stairs.
I turned to see her running toward the barn.
"Not today, mother. No training today!"
Guinevere leapt a stream and slowed to a trot as she weaved about the trees of the forest.
"Evelyn!" my mother screamed for me.
"What? How..." I rolled my eyes. "Tomas told her."
I urged the horse into a gallop once again, the trees and branches zooming past us. The end of a longer branch stuck out into the path, smacking me in the face as we ran by. Grabbing my cheek, I pulled it away to see blood on my hand. I could feel the warm, sticky liquid trail down my face.
I pulled her to a stop as we came face to face with a young man on his steed. He sat in the center of the road, staring at us.
"You there. Girl."
"Me?" I asked, wiping my cheek with the sleeve of my gown.
"What are you doing riding through the king's forest?" he asked, his hand on his hip.
"Excuse me?"
"A peasant girl shouldn't be riding through the king's forest."
"A peasant girl? Who?"
"Evelyn!"
"Shit. You ponder how a peasant girl got into the king's forest while I continue along. If a woman asks if I've been by here, you never saw me."
I kicked Guinevere into a gallop, leaving the man sitting still, pondering his ridiculous question.
The horse came to a sudden stop, nearly toppling me over her head, at a ravine. I tried to turn her in the opposite direction, but mother grabbed the reins from my hands.
"Can nobody keep a secret around here!" I hollered, throwing my hands in the air.
"What is wrong with you?" she asked.
"Nothing, mother."
"Do not take that tone with me. You are supposed to be training right now!"
"We always train. I want a day off."
"Evelyn, you know how important it is."
"Yes, I know how important this is to you."
"When we get back to the castle, march straight to the throne room. Your father and I will be having a long discussion with you."
"We always have long discussions."
"Which is what we're going to talk about."
I followed close behind my mother. Thinking about riding off a few times. Hampton Court castle loomed ahead of us like a prison for me.
"Up the drive-way, young lady. Do not ruin that grass more than what you have."
"The gravel is rough on Guinevere's hooves."
"She's a horse. She's shoed. She's fine."
I sighed heavily and nudged her up the loose gravel.
"Don't do that. It's so unbecoming of you, Evelyn."
"Everything is unbecoming of me, mother."
Mother slid off Scarlet; her large, black Friesian, and tapped her slippered toe waiting for me to follow.
"To the throne room." She pointed down the hall at a large set of oak doors.
"I know where the throne is, thank you very much." I stormed down the hall and through open the doors.
She walked close behind, pausing at my father's study.
"Cassius!"
"Yes, love?" He looked at her face, and then glanced at me. "Oh. I'll be right there. I need to finish up talks with Prince James first."
"He can wait. Your daughter cannot."
Father winced at that. Mother usually referred to me as his daughter when she was really mad. She was really mad. I opened my mouth to say something when the same man I saw on the road popped his head out.
"Peasant girl?"
"Arrogant man."
"Peasant?" my father asked, looking at me. "That's the princess, my daughter."
"That is your daughter?" he asked in disbelief.
"Why does everyone do that?" I asked.
Father glared at me as he spoke to the man. "She usually doesn't look like such a ragamuffin."
"I'm sure." The man furrowed his brow and pressed his lips into a fine line before returning to the study.
"You'll excuse me for a moment. Apparently Queen Joselyn thinks I need to go immediately."
"I don't think so, Cassius. I know so," Mother nearly growled.
"Can we get this over with? The ragamuffin wants to go eat," I said, sighing heavily again.
"Stop all that sighing!" mother hollered.
"You know who she reminds me of, don't you?"
"Who?" Queen Joselyn asked.
"You."
"Never."
"Yes. She is you. Same attitude and everything."
"Don't push it, Cassius."
They closed the door behind them and took their seats on the platform. I stood before them, feeling more like a prisoner than the princess of England.
"Evelyn."
"Mother."
"Why do you insist on escaping from your training?" she asked.
"Because it's all I do! I have no fun. I do nothing except train, lessons, and learning."
"You are a princess. Certain things are expected of you. I grew up in the French..."
"The French courts. You trained everyday and never complained. Yes, I know. You've told me this same story over and over."
"So why fight me on it?"
"Evelyn, you need to listen to your mother. There is a reason why we're having you learn these specific sets of skills."
"Why?" I asked, looking at my father.
"She's old enough to know now," he said.
"No," Mother said firmly.
"Yes, dear."
"I don't want to scare her. I was going to wait another year or so before informing her of the truth."
"What truth?" I asked.
My mother pursed her lips together and hung her head. Standing she walked to the large fireplace behind the thrones. She picked up the gold and diamond dagger that rested on a purple pillow nearest her. She handed it over to me. I grasped the diamond hilt, feeling something prick my fingers.
"Ow!" I yelped, letting it go.
My mother reached out with lightning fast reflex and caught it.
"What was that?" I asked.
"This is a dagger from the Guild. It was sent as a wedding gift to your father and I."
"From the who?" I asked.
"The Guild. A secret society of assassins."
"Why did they send you a gift?" I asked again.
"I am, well I was, an assassin. Your father's assassin. I was chosen as a child, about the age you were when I began training you, to protect your father once he became king. We fell in love."
"Okay?"
"An assassin falling in love with her king is forbidden. The Guild would do everything in their power to keep it from happening, even going so far as to kill their own assassin," she said, placing the dagger back on the pillow.
"You're alive."
"It wasn't easy. I had to kill my mentor and many watchers. Angeline broke from them and helped so she could marry as well."
"Angeline? Your old friend? Elizabeth's mother?"
"Yes. That Angeline. Don't let her motherly ways now fool you. She is a very lethal woman."
"So what does this have to do with me?" I asked.
"Everything," my father said. "You are the product of our love. They would love to see you die as well. With your mother training you, at least you'll have a fighting chance when and if that happens."
"Kill me? And ew, dad, a product of your love?"
"Well you are."
"When are they going to kill me?"
"There's no guarantee that they will try, but they'll try something sometime. Maybe not now, perhaps when you have a child and are queen."
"I don't want this."
"I know, sweetheart. It's not fair at all, and we're not saying they will target you, but we want you to be prepared in case they do," my mother said, pulling me close to her body.
I wrapped my arms around her waist, inhaling her sweet scent. She always smelled of vanilla and cinnamon.
"Now, I must return to my talks with Prince James."
"Why is he here?" I asked.
"We'll discuss that later," my father muttered.
"No. We can discuss it now," I said.
"It's time to think about you getting married."
"Married? You're kidding right? Mother, tell him he's crazy."
"Evelyn, your father is right. I was married by the time I was eighteen."
"The two of you are insane. And to Prince James of Scotland? He's so stuffy and uptight."
"He's a good match."
I rolled my eyes and turned to leave.
"I'm not that stuffy," James said, standing in the doorway.
"Prince James." I curtsied to the visiting dignitary.
"Princess Evelyn." He bowed low to me.
"It's so very nice to see you, again."
"Yes. Now that I know you're not a crazy peasant girl."
"I'm just a crazy princess." I walked past him, heading toward my chambers.
"Evelyn!"
"I need to wash."
I slammed the doors to my chamber behind me. My handmaid, Charlene, appeared from beyond the bower.
"Princess."
"Charlene. I need to wash. Please prepare water for me."
"What happened to you?"
"Long story. This day went from normal crazy to insane in an hour."
"Please tell me."
"Apparently there is a secret society who wants to kill me and my father wants me to marry the prince of Scotland."
"Oh not that tall, rugged, red haired lad?"
"Prince James? Yeah. Him."
"He's good looking," she said, pouring hot water from the kettle over my fire to a pitcher.
"He's so stuffy and boring."
"How do you know?"
"I've met him. Once."
"Yes. Once. Give him a chance, perhaps he'll prove to be worthy of the princess of England."
"I doubt it," I said, untying the stays of the gown I wore, letting it fall to the floor.
"You never know," she said, pouring the water over my head as I leaned over the basin. "Rose oil?"
"Yes."
I closed my eyes as she rubbed the cleaning oils in my hair and handed me a cloth to wipe up with.
"Shall you be dining with your parents and James?" Charlene asked.
"I suppose I shall."
"The red dining gown will go marvelously with your hair."
I pulled a gold chemise on before stepping into the thick petticoats and red skirt. Charlene helped me get the stiff bodice on and tied it tight.
"If you yank those ribbons any harder my ribs may crush everything on the inside," I huffed, placing a hand on my breast.
"A tiny waist, princess."
"I like breathing."
The top slipped over my head, the trumpet sleeves reaching down to my knees. I slipped my toes into the gold slippers and sat, allowing her to twist my mass of curls up. She tucked a silver and pearl tiara into my hair.
"A tiara?" I asked.
"Embrace your princessness, Evelyn."
I pursed my lips and glanced in the mirror. I hated the tiaras. They were nothing more than a symbol of my imprisonment in the castle. She didn't know what it was like to have your entire life planned out for you, having no option but what others decided for you. There was no escaping what I had to become one day. I knew I would do exactly what my parents wanted, even though I wanted to fight back. And I would. What little pleasure I could have, I would take.