"UGH! Traffics are just the worst!" Lyfa exclaimed as she braided her wine hair.
The bloating heat inside the car cooled down once they were greeted by the grand buildings of Vherna City. The clouds lost their blissful countenance that Stella was accustomed to back in Calyxia. Not long after midday since they departed, Stella had known her mother's friend whom she was to be received was a witty man named Kalhoun Eldrikson. Not much had she known of him only that he was a biology researcher whom her mother and Anton knew. The driver had also been prevailing through the trip. The air conditioner has served as their sole comfort against the discomfit.
It did not bother the Princess to dive through the journal they had discovered kept in one of the duffle bags. Her father's signature let her know it was his. She almost dropped the leather-bound book out of boredom when a paper slipped off. A letter from the Ambassador sent two days ago.
'To serve your pleas and consider your questions answered, Your Majesty need only to heed this infamous words by our renowned national exemplar, Slyfia Mercado: No man can equal to that of beasts, just as no brutes can equal to that voice of man from which liberty was gifted.'
Classic, enigmatic Allyson.
"It's good to be out of the borders again."
"Good to be out and take in the new sights," Lyfa added, her smile poking a dimple on her left cheek. Found among the ladies-in-waiting to serve the young princess, the Syschon House thought it better they "stow" their accidental youngest under the care of the palace at the age of 10. There, Stella found a playmate two gap years behind her. "I always wanted to go the Greens Grandiose Galore, but I heard it's been closed for a while due to collateral damage."
"If only the situation was different, then I would have suggested we run ahead of the traffic."
"Now, now, Your Highness and Lady Syschon, you know I would not let that be 'lest we challenge to face Her Majesty's wrath. Mostly towards me, of course."
"Come on, Uncle Anton! Just a few side trips around the shops. We promise we won't take long," Lyfa pleaded. "This is a rare opportunity! Why can't we get the nice things handpicked by ourselves? Well, for Her Highness, at most, I mean. So please?"
Anton pursed his lips together. "Mmm, I do have to prioritize your safety so we should make our move immediately..."
"Aw, alright." Lyfa crossed her arms, pouting.
"Ah, ah, ah!" Anton wiggled a finger before she could protest. "I didn't say we get to do it after the traffic. In fact, I do concur that our Princess is in need of a tad touch on the outside border walls. Alright, then." At that, Stella and Lyfa squealed. "Do hurry up before I drive this up to the next two intersections or I'll have to leave you running in your heels."
Before he could say any more, Lyfa pulled the driver into a hug. "Thank you, thank you so much, Uncle! You're the best-est as ever!" Once the door opened, Stella was hauled away by the ever-enthusiastic lady.
"Always with the antics, these girls."
The man may not have known it, but Stella had always pictured him to be the ideal patriarch she had been missing. A man who had allowed her freedom more times than she can count.
*
Purple is the insignia of nobility. As for Stella, it elicits inner creativity and true beauty. Its compliment dress cascaded down into cottons slithering across the wooden floor. With the sleeves and neckline of satin floral flakes, Stella knew she picked the perfect finery for the following month's FlowerFest Gala. The girl who stood before her was Stella, not Stella Astrophes Verdana Fjore. After a couple of twirls before the mirror, she slid aside the dressing room's door to greet an impatient Lyfa. "How is it?"
"So exquisitely lustrous! A perfect fit for a princess! You'll be capturing the eyes of every man who gazed upon your unmatched regal beauty, Your High-"
"Shh! You're gonna blow our cover," Stella whispered, pressing a finger on Lyfa's lips. "Just call me by my name. It's just the two of us here, after all."
Lyfa nodded. "Of course... Stella." It felt like almost a decade since she uttered her best friend's name.
"Oh, please, like that can make anyone glimpse at that plastic patch."
Lyfa whipped to the source of the incredulous voice, which belonged to a middle-aged woman behind the counter whose sagging arms were as plump as her ego displayed by the sharp bold glasses she wore.
"You call that fashion? That old sack had been sold off by the cranky shop down the street not too long ago, said no one would buy it so they put it up on sale to us because our tailor's reputation exceeds any other," she prattled on. "Such a poor taste you have to pick that worn-out rug if you think that would befit the festival, let alone earn a spot in the Miss Bluebell of the Year contest. No one stands a chance against my niece, who has won three straight of its pageant championships. You would have-"
Lyfa's mouth finally unleashed its hinges. "Well, you listen here, Miss Sinclair. You do not know who you're talking brash to and if that's how you address your customers, your indecent enterprise won't be standing high long in this district!"
"Lyfa, stop. It's okay. Let's leave. We can just buy another dress from the other shops." Stella tried pulling her by the arm, cowering under inquisitive gazes of other customers.
Yet her friend is unyielding. "No! You can't just let anyone talk to you like this!"
"Please! You're making a scene."
"Stella, you can't-"
"LYFA SYSCHON, THAT IS MY COMMAND!"
Lyfa recoiled, erupting a gnarly silence."Yes, S-Stella. I'm sorry." She bowed, then went to retrieve their bags.
"I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience. I'll be returning the dress now." Stella bowed beneath her chest. "For whatever it is, I believe the dress can be ameliorated."
The woman ushered her hand in a fan motion, stating, "At least you have a knack of sense in there, unlike your friend."
Without the need to look at her, Stella can sense Lyfa's disapproving eyes.
"Just go."
Stella walked back to the dressing room, passing her friend. She wished they did not have to avoid glances, instead be prepared for the tension she herself brought when all her best friend intended was to stand up to her when she could not. It was another reason for the Princess and her lady-in-waiting to be drawn to each other. While Stella embodied modesty, Lyfa was anything but, and Stella welcomed her eccentricities in the face of the council's reproach. Sometimes she wished they swapped shoes, yet at the moment's notice, she would take it back. To wish she put the weight of expectations on her friend, on anyone else, was not only a coward's way out but a violation of her own code of ethics.
Once in her green dress, an outburst of bellows ensued. "Stella, stay in there!" She heard Lyfa's voice outside.
"What's going on-" A thick thump from the opposite side cut her off. She tried to push the door open, dropping her whole weight against the surface, but it would not budge.
"Lyfa!"
The screams continued. The lights flickered. "Lyfa! Open up!" She persisted in calling out, but the tangle of indistinguishable bedlams muffled her voice.
Seconds move on inside the empty, compact space. On the floor, terror through her shallow breaths and pounding heart served as her only company for sense and solace under the little warmth found under her arms clothing her head. It was unclear how much time had passed. The stillness resounded that the grave ambiance was not any different ... only that it was quiet. "H-hello?"
As if on cue, the door pried opened.
"Your Highness!" Lyfa materialized from the other side. She grabbed Stella by the shoulder, hoisting her up. "Thank goodness you are safe! I-I didn't know what to do! These monsters... they just came swooping in and started taking people! It was ruin and madness everywhere!"
Stella took her by the hand. "Hey, hey, we're both safe. That's what matters ... for now."
Swallowing the lump in her dry throat, Lyfa nodded. "Yes, of course. Our safety comes first. Hurry! I think I've seen a short passage safe from here."
*
The slit-sized road was littered with vehicles piling onto one another. Just how far can the destruction go for it to leave a district empty? As frightening as it occurred to Stella, her friend, somehow, barely showed any hint of fret.
"This way."
"Wait! Are you sure this is where we're going?" Stella hesitated against the deep alleyway Lyfa pushed her into.
"Yeah."
"Do you even know where?"
"Of course, I do." Rather than the anticipated impatience, Lyfa was her usual normal. "Is something wrong, Your Highness?" The girl must have sensed her apprehension to ask that. Oddly so, Lyfa's hand is ... dry.
"N-no..."
"Now don't you worry, Your Highness, I am bound to keep you safe. I will make sure of it. Hey! That tailor seemed pretty nice, don't you think?" Lyfa asked, presumably to calm Stella with a casual talk, which the Princess found herself almost giving in to the intention behind it.
"Didn't you just say it was ... indecent?"
Lyfa silenced. She was grabbing Stella by the hand, her eyes staring ahead.
"Lyfa? ..." Stella was about to put her hand on the latter's shoulder ... to meet an innocent face smiling back at her.
"Oh, yes! My, I think I hit my head too hard I forgot how I even voiced it." Lyfa heartily chuckled.
Stella looked on, concealing the suspicion on her face. "Right..." They resumed their stride. An aura of hopeful peace and security she aired off, wherein it exactly gave the Princess reasons to consider the indispensable ominosity it overlayed. Voice. And then it clicked in her. "Hey, Lyfa."
"Hm?"
It was a risk she had never attempted; let alone knew its existence until then. No man can equal to that of beasts, just as no brutes can equal to that voice of man from which liberty was gifted. "You know what really calms me down?"
Lyfa glanced behind in genuine interest. "Do tell, Your Highness."
"The Lullaby of the Robin. You know, when we were kids, Mother would sing it for us in every permitted sleepover. Just a hum would do."
The grin on Lyfa's face drained. "Perhaps the Princess would like to ask another request? My voice has not been at its best pitch lately and I wouldn't want Your Highness to grate her ears."
"Why so?" Stella asked, piqued, "You always loved to sing. "
Lyfa paused again. It took long seconds before Stella realized they had completely halted.
"Hey... Why did we stop?" Lyfa did not speak. Only then did the foreboding feeling in her gut consume her under the oppressing grip Lyfa had on her wrist. "H-hey! You're hurting me!" Her exclaim was brushed aside with indifference, coercing Stella to tug harder. "Stop it! Let me go!" Wincing, her demand was countered by another subtle yet known voice.
"Maybe our Princess is far more clever than we thought." Anton. No. Anton, regarded in a way as much as Lyfa is not Lyfa. Turning about, his mouth stretched without restraint, flaunting a set of beastly teeth. His golden eyes rolled back as black streaks of gas clouded him.
"Don't be scared, Princess. You only need to stay still."
Stella had lost the courage to scream. Beside her, she knew Lyfa as well had been consumed by those spiteful creatures without the need to look at her. All hope seems lost. Under the darkness of her closed eyes, she braced herself on her knees, nonetheless not knowing if she was ready for the strike. "I'm sorry, Mother."
Prior to the impact that never came, an instant tug from her wrist sent her diving forward. The cause sprang from the string of vine that had grown from her skin, smacking Anton and thrusting him to the wall, following rubbles and flurries of dust. Next, it coiled around Lyfa's wrist and bent it until her fingers twisted off Stella's hands, allowing her the chance to flee. She regretted glimpsing behind her as she made the distance. Two new inky figures descended down, sprinting for her.
*
Scampering out of the alleyway, Stella winded off toward an open field from where a pileup accumulated. Hearing the echoes of the monsters' shrieks, she dove into the open box of the back of a truck. With all her strength, she pulled down the rusted panel. Inside, she waited. But not for long.
"Don't make this any harder than it should, Your Highness." Anton."We are under oath to deliver you to your father, safely."
Lyfa spoke, "Your kingdom and the entirety of Vherna is on the verge of its downfall. Accepting the Ambassador's proposal was the wisest move the Astrophes family had done yet steered by your father. Don't you think this would make it easier for you once you grasp the throne?"
Under a cupped mouth, Stella knew refuting was a fool's slip. How Mother would orate the empirical absoluteness of free will yet forbid her daughter beyond the palace walls; it picks at her frustration with the crate she was thrust into.
Her blunder came irreversible when the box budged, causing Stella to bend back, venting a brief yelp. A rush of collisions thrashed against the other side, pushing Stella against the wall. Stuck. Alone. Afraid. And like knights in shining armor, these people swooped in at the last minute, whom she now accompanies.
*
Stella was brought out of her anecdote more by the warmth enveloping her hand than by the end of the tale. Cazzie was looking at her, featured with an immeasurable sympathy.
"I'm sorry you had to go through all that."
With a wipe of her tear, the Princess spoke, "Thank you for your concern."
At the precise moment, Kayne hailed their arrival. "We're here."
The train station at the edge of the city was among the few to be powered by mechanical energy. There was a computable number of people, either awaiting to leave the city or seeking refuge under its glass roof. However, the latter was soon an anticipation shattered.
A chorus of familiar, bloodcurdling screeches crackled. The monsters are coming...
👗
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NEXT on Youngblood World:
The second wave has already begun!
Who will stay, and who will be taken this time?
And does the assurance of security truly prevail over free will?
Find out in the next chapter,
Duty In Its Truest Form
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