Carmen Ferreiro-Esteban - Two Moon Princess

“Mother can keep me out of the ballroom,” I said to the angry girl in the mirror. “But she can’t force me to stay in my quarters. I’ll go to the garden and watch the ball from my secret place.”

It was not what I had planned. I had expected my childhood days of spying to end today, but destiny—with a little help from my family—had decided otherwise. I was sure, though, that seeing through the window the incomprehensible display of manners of the grown-up world would be the perfect cure for my silly desire to be there.

I rushed to my trunk. Under the piles of carefully folded dresses, almost invisible against the dark wooden planks, I found my old hunting outfit. Happy to have kept it from Ama Bernarda’s frequent cleaning sprees, I put it on. It was so worn out it fit me like a second skin, my movements its own.

No fancy frills , I thought with relief. My time as a lady is over. Andrea the Princess was gone forever. Good riddance! I was not going to miss her.

I was about to close the chest when I saw my uncle’s dark blue jacket. I grabbed it and threw it over my shoulders.

My leather boots made no sound on the wooden floors as I stole out of my room and through the empty corridors into the garden. Careful to keep off the public paths so I wouldn’t be seen, I ran noiselessly on the soft grass until I reached my old companion, the oak tree. I stopped then, out of breath, and my back against its rugged bark, I let my eyes wander toward the castle. Up on the second floor, behind the windows of the Great Hall, I could see shadows moving. The ball had started. I stretched my arms to the lower branches and pulled myself up.

The moss tickled my face and arms as I climbed, bringing to my mind memories of a time long ago, when Margarida and I used to come here to play. I could still remember the evening we had discovered that from the top of this oak, we could spy inside the ballroom, and the magical summer we had spent building a clumsy platform from planks and ropes we had gathered in the castle. By the time I reached our secret hideout, I was smiling; the anger at my sister Rosa, the frustration about my mother’s unfair decision, and my disappointment for not being allowed at the ball seemed far away now. They were like feelings belonging to somebody else, a close friend maybe, but definitely not me.

I squatted on the platform and, closing my eyes, breathed deeply, losing myself in the warm sweet smell of new flowers. Along with the music of the fiddles and lutes coming muffled through the closed windows, another song was playing in my mind, a long-forgotten song the wind used to sing for me when I was a child. It was a tune without words, a tune of happiness I had once understood, but whose meaning I had lost as I struggled to grow up.

For an indefinite time, the music played, soothing my discontent until suddenly, with a heavy thump, the branch shook under me. I shot up, eyes wide open, my hand already on the golden arrow buried in my hair. A dark shape, large as a mountain lion, was crouching at the end of the platform. Just as I watched, the shadow sprang to its feet and turned. And I found myself staring into the deep blue eyes of the most handsome boy I had ever seen.

I flung myself forward and, grabbing the intruder’s arm, twisted it behind his back. “Who are you?” I said, my arrow already on his neck.

The young man stared at me in bold defiance. “I am Don Alfonso de Alvar,” he said, his voice as calm and even as if we had just been formally introduced. “I have no weapons upon me, so until you withdraw yours, I refuse to elaborate further.”

I dropped my hands and, moving back two steps, examined him carefully. He was smartly dressed in a black uniform with the rising sun, the emblem of his House embroidered on the front. I found the fact that he had kept his perfect looks, even though he had just climbed a tree, extremely irritating. I knew that, dressed as I was in my hunting clothes, he had assumed I was a page, and for the first time in my life, I was upset by the mistake.

“I am Princess Andrea de Montemaior,” I told him with all the majesty I could muster. “Everything around us belongs to my family.”

I didn’t care for my family just then, but I wanted to impress this pretentious prince. And impressed he was. His eyes widened and his body tensed as I spoke. Even before I had finished my sentence, he had started to apologize.

“I am deeply sorry, my fair lady, for not having recognized you. But the shadows had hidden from my eyes the beauty of your face. Ashamed of my impudence, I bend before you now, not daring to ask for your forgiveness.”

And true to his words, he bowed to me.

“I don’t have time for pleasantries, Sir. Would you please tell me directly what are you doing here in my—garden?”

Don Alfonso smiled. “Indeed, my lady, indeed.”

Setting his feet wide apart on the tree trunk, he started brightly, “The reason for my being here in this, your palace, my dear lady, is none other than to act as tutor and companion to King Julián, my beloved brother, whose name, I am sure, is not unknown to you.”

Don Julián de Alvar was indeed a familiar name in our kingdom, although not a welcome one. Five years past, he had defeated our kingdom and taken from us some borderlands that had been in dispute for generations. I had heard my father and his lords comment on Don Julián’s courage in battle and his cunning in the peace negotiations. As far as I knew, our kingdoms were not on social terms. Apparently I was mistaken.

“You must also know, my fair lady,” he continued, “that since the purpose of this magnificent ball is to obtain the favor and eventually the hand of Princess Rosa, Don Julián, as heir to our House, was requested to attend. But the invitation was not extended to me, a younger prince with no kingdom to inherit.

“Your ladyship can imagine how my heart broke at the injustice a mere trifle of birth order imposed upon me. I had already resigned myself to the unfair laws of this world when fortune smiled at me in the most unexpected way.”

Good grief , I thought, suppressing a yawn. If I don’t do something quick, this charming prince is going to tell me his entire uneventful life and that of his dear brother, too .

“My lord,” I said in my most commanding voice, “would you please answer my question directly?”

Don Alfonso frowned. “That is exactly what I am doing, Princess,” he said, his voice rising in surprise. “As you will soon understand if you were only to indulge me a little longer.”

Without waiting for my answer, he continued in this elaborate style that so reminded me of Father. “Don Julián is, nobody would argue, a brave warrior and a distinguished statesman. But in matters of gallant love, he is—let’s simply say—inexperienced. Not by any fault of his own, of course, but only because he has not been exposed to the company of your fair sex. His duties as king and his studies have taken all his time.

“On the other hand, I, your humble servant, with my perfect blend of natural charm and worldly knowledge, am a master in all the intricacies of courtship.”

From time to time as the prince spoke, his eyes wandered toward the balcony that stood between us and the castle. Through the ballroom windows, I could see figures dancing. But the balcony doors remained closed and the balcony empty.

What he was looking for, I could not tell. Neither did he give me the opportunity to ask. “It was only natural that my brother would seek my advice,” he was saying. “How could I resist his eager request? After a heated discussion, an agreement was made that satisfied us both. I would teach Don Julián the language of love in return for access to the ballroom. And that, my dear lady, is the reason for my being here.”