The Five Princesses of Eblus

Chapter Three

violet

saturday morning

I sigh in my bedroom mirror. I'm sick of being forced to go to parties. All I do is stand around, nice and quiet, maybe flirt at a few of the princes or dukes, drink strictly virgin drinks... and then "go to the bathroom" to explore the library, my secret place, the only place, where I can find a temporary peace.

Somedays I feel sorry for my parents. The only sisters who actually enjoy these things, or pretend to anyway, are Eira and Poppy. Eira, because she's the eldest, and Poppy, because she doesn't know anything else. Chantelle never seems to show an interest in the boys, and only likes picking out a dress. Ivy always does her own thing. Always has, always will.

I feel sorry for Poppy, too. The rest of us have grown up much faster than she has. Everyone babies her, mainly because she's the youngest. At fifteen years old, she barely knows anything about the real world, about the world outside of the palace walls. Then again, the rest of us barely know anything about the real world either.

It's not like Mother and Father shield it from us on purpose; they're trying to protect us, or so they try to convince us. Even the other royal families that visit, their children are more knowledgeable than us. I hate how stupid I feel around them. Especially the princes. I despise rumors and myths about royalty, but one is true; princes tend to be arrogant. That doesn't stop them from being undeniably attractive–

"Vi?" A soothing voice calls my name.

"In here!" I glide over to open the door. Eira walks in, and on cue, a soft breeze flutters in with her. She's prettier than the paparazzi credit her as; no one pays much attention her because of how striking and loud Chantelle and Ivy are. And me, too. Especially me.

Her blond hair is in a low messy bun and she's wearing a white robe.

"Vi, the esthetician is coming soon. Get ready."

I put on my fluffy (you guessed it, purple) robe and pick a scab on my otherwise glowing light brown skin. I examine my violet eyes carefully; I have very mixed feelings about them. On one hand, yes they're unique and rare, but some days I wish to be a normal, ordinary person. I give my (purple) hair one last comb before leaving for the castle spa, where I'm sure to find all of my sisters getting ready.

Eira follows me down the corridor. "Actually, though. Are you ready?"

No. I don't tell her that, but I want to, so badly. I've never told anyone, but sometimes, in the back of my mind, I hear a little voice begging me to run away. To run away from this castle, to run away from my duties as a princess, to run away from Eblus. From this nightmare that keeps chasing me, covering me in purple gowns, from the ever-present cameras that can hunt me down from miles away, submerging me in stuffy waters so deep it's a miracle I haven't drowned.

"Of course. It's just a party, right? Let's have fun."

Eira gives me an unconvinced half-smile in return. "Let's."

. . .

I hate to say I am a patron of the castle spa; I pay a visit twice a month. God, that sounds so snooty. Just hear me out.

Part of the reason why I hate being a princess is the "public image." In other words, I can't leave the house in anything unconventional. Conventional being the hottest fashion trends in Eblus, which I struggle to keep up with. No one can tell, though.

My mother said she named me Violet because of my eyes. It's a pretty obvious reason. Not poetic or special, like my sisters' names. Poppy, Ivy, Chantelle, Eira. They were all blessed with beautiful names. I hate my name.

If I'm gonna be obvious, I'm gonna be obvious. Basically the reason why at any given moment you can find me covered head to toe in purple.

"Does anyone know where Ivy is?" Eira calls to us. We've arrived at the castle spa. Chantelle and Poppy have already arrived in matching white robes. They're both lying on massage beds with bright green cucumbers on their eyes. Chantelle appears to have a lip mask on her lips, maybe made of honey.

We all shake our heads. Eira glares at the ground.

I look around. Sure enough, Ivy is nowhere to be scene. I hear Eira mutter under her breath, "Of course."

Five minutes later, after we're all situated in massage beds, hot towels, and cucumbers, Ivy waltzes in.

There's no good way to describe her. She's one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen in my life. She doesn't care about impressing anyone, but she does anyway. I tend to be jealous. Eira hates her. Like, really hates her. They're polar opposites, I guess. But I think Eira really hates her because Eira always has to take over motherly roles. Eira is twenty two years old and Ivy is twenty one. 

"You're late." Eira's turned her voice to stone, piercing through the room. Ivy doesn't look up, picking at her fingernails.

"Bite me." Ivy's voice drips with sarcasm. She finally looks up, though, more stunning than ever.

Eira glares at her. "Whatever. Go lie down and get ready. I ordered all your treatments already. You're welcome."

Ivy smiles sweetly. "Thanks, sis." She goes to lie down on the bed and an attendant begins to apply a light blue mask around her face. "Actually. Thank you, Eira."

Eira looks away. I guess it's what they say: too little, too late.

The rest of us lie down and the endless treatments begin. Words like anti-aging, depuffing, and long-lasting get tossed around. An attendant spreads a dark green cream all over my face and I take a deep breath. I won't deny that I find it relaxing, but I wish we would send this money somewhere else, to people who need it more. We sure as hell don't need it.

An hour later, we're all done. Our skin looks flawless, our nails smooth and coated, our hair perfectly styled. 

"Okay, girls, why don't you all come with me to pick up our dresses?" Eira suggests. Ivy snorts, tossing a lock of fiery red hair over her shoulder.

"I think not," she retorts. Eira looks like she's about to explode.

"Oh, and what are you going to do now, instead of making the mature, responsible choice? Hook up with a stable boy? Leave anonymous family gossip for The Monday Gazette?  Why don't you bomb the kingdom while you're at it?" She snapped. 

Ivy, unwavering, lets out a small laugh. "Calm down, sis. All I'm saying is that unlike yours, my life doesn't revolve around making our family look good. I have other things to do. I'm starting tennis lessons, booking trips around the world, and donating to the poor, stuff like that. I even have a friend who owns a vineyard. She's going to show me how to make wine."

"YOU THINK I WANTED TO BE LIKE THIS? YOU THINK I WANTED TO BE THE MOTHER OF THIS FAMILY? WELL, I HATE IT. YOUR REAL MOTHER IS A FUCKING DRUNK, SO I'M SORRY  THAT I HAD TO FILL IN! I AM SO FUCKING DONE WITH THIS." And with that, Eira stormed off to her tower.