Ch. 14: Sunset Palace

Before I knew what I was doing, the loose twigs from the hedge tugged at my dress as I crawled underneath it to freedom. The hole originally looked so small, but I’ve fit inside it with no problem. My little head emerges, then my shoulders, and soon I’ve completely emerged from my gilded prison.

No one sees me leave, except for one girl. A young scullery maid who mostly worked in the kitchens had by chance glimpsed my daring escape. Only two years my senior, Emma had been shirking her duties of peeling the potatoes for a breath of fresh air and now she was filled with indecision as she wondered whether or not to run after me or inform someone.

historical

But she looked down at the potato peeler in her hand and realized she would get reprimanded for leaving during her shift, she could even miss out on dinner for her transgression. Smart, quick feet, even faster than my own, marched towards the gap in the hedge, and Emma shimmied her way out of the Rose Palace. After all, if she was the one who caught me and brought me back, I would be her get out of jail free card that kept her from trouble. Emma could even be rewarded if she was lucky.

However, I, of course, do not know that Emma is loosely tailing me as I begin to wander the marble halls I have stumbled into. A couple of maids walk by and a few stewards, but no one surprisingly bows. I reach up to scratch my head in confusion and realize that I still have on the bonnet Marie piled most of my hair underneath. The only way you would notice I have white hair is if you look at me from the back. Perhaps they all just assume I’m some noble’s child who got lost in the palace. There is little sympathy in their busy gazes. I can feel someone else’s gaze on me, neither friendly nor threatening, but when I turn around there is no one behind me.

I enter a little outdoor alcove covered in intricate drawings, not unlike the mosaics I’ve seen in my original world. Unlike the crests of suns and phoenixes that decorate the palace, this one is depicting a scene, one that I shockingly recognize from the texts I’ve laboriously read.

There is a man riding a golden chariot, a spear clenched tightly in his right hand as he spears at a dark mass. It is a pivotal moment in this world’s lore when the god Helio defeated Akira the Devourer with the Spear of Light. The mosaic is slightly abstract, but there is no mistaking the scene. It is indeed an impressive work of art.

I drag my finger down the rod of the gold spear. According to ancient records, the spear fell from the god’s hand into the mortal realm after he dealt a fatal wound to the Devourer. A wandering mage named Erudian discovered the weapon and upon picking it up, became the first of Helio’s line on earth.

To show his godly lineage, he adopted the gold eyes of Helio, forever to be passed on down his line. The spear was said to be lost shortly after the birth of his heir, the legendary King Bramas, who transformed the newly founded Erudian Kingdom into an Empire. I don’t know how much fact to place in this when I relate this myth to several similar ones of Norse and Indian mythology from my world. To think that my many times great grandfather is descended from a god, it’s too crazy to believe. But then again, I also somehow got reincarnated into a world I read about on my phone. Those gold eyes of Helio wink at me now from a flicker of dim sunlight that shines on the alcove.

.....

My period of admiration is cut short when I hear the sound of many steps walking in unison towards where I am standing. A squadron of the royal guard is approaching me quickly from the front. I curse my luck. If I hadn’t been so enamored by the artistic depiction of my grandfather, perhaps I would’ve been able to gaze at my father’s palace, even from afar.

Even though according to the story, Emperor Helio never develops a relationship with me, I still yearn to learn more about the man who participated in my creation. It’s a foolish, childish dream though, one that is getting crushed under the incoming footsteps of the guards. I was like this in my last life too, doggedly chasing after my deadbeat dad as he jumped from girlfriend to girlfriend and avoided paying child support to my mom. You’d think I’d have learned by now.

I spin around in my path and retrace my path back to the Rose Palace. I’ve broken into a light run and I’m back in the outdoor marble hallways I had emerged into. I turn right, then another right before hooking a quick left. That was the original path I took, right? Now that I think about it, all these paths look exactly the same. I could potentially be in trouble.

Emma, who was tailing me silently, already knew I was in trouble. It is actually two lefts and a right, but it’s an easy error to make. I haven’t realized it yet because I reached another tall hedge and my heart rate slows down from its hummingbird pace. I’m back at the Rose Palace. Marie must have returned to my empty blanket and begun to freak out, I’ll have to reassure her and put up with the inevitable scolding that will follow.

Glimpsing the beautiful mosaic made my daring escape worth it, but I don’t know if I foresee myself doing an unscheduled run again anytime soon. I don’t like the energy of the rest of the royal palace, which isn’t all too different from the rude maids/spies in my Rose Palace. But in the distrustful swamp that my new home is, there is a beacon of light within it: Marie.

It’s sad to say, but she is the only person in the entire royal palace who treats me nicely without any ulterior motive. A few teenage maids tried to take a page out of her book and attempt to curry favor with me, but they remind me of typical high school mean girls: nice to your face and horrible behind your back. I’d rather stick with simple Marie.

I’m scanning the dense hedge for the gap that I originally crawled through, but I can’t find it. I feel a bit tense standing outside the hedge and finally just resolve to crawl under, even though the space is extremely narrow. I’m going to ruin this dress, which is a shame, but I feel terribly exposed just standing outside my palace.

Like a snake slithering on its belly, I’m forced to shimmy underneath the foot wide hedge and emerge on the other end breathing hard. This body’s stamina, even for a child, has always been dismal. My hands rest on knees and I can only see green grass from where I’m bent over heaving. My wind returns to me and I straighten only to be met with an alarming situation. This is not my courtyard.

There is no apple tree standing in the center of the grass. The hedges are covered in slender, golden flowers I have never seen before. I spin around in a slow circle, dread making my belly churn as I spy an outdoor gazebo, the wood structure painted bright white like my hair. And there is someone seated underneath looking right at me.

I gulp nervously, but stand tall as the person, who appears to have been in the middle of a late afternoon tea gets down from their chair. She’s a child. Her legs swung before she touched the ground and she is only a little taller than seat in question. But instead of being reassured that it’s a child who is approaching me, my stomach bottoms out. Because other than me, in the webnovel the only other young girl living luxuriously in the palace is my half-sister, Julia. Psycho Julia, Clara had nicknamed her.

For the most part, she looks sane as she draws close to my solemn figure. It is obvious that she has been loved and coddled within the palace, held with high regard by those around her. Dirty blonde hair has been curled into Shirley Temple ringlets, complemented by the bejeweled hairpins placed in her hair. I’d always thought that the solid color dresses I’ve been wearing were cream of the crop, but I look like a peasant beside Julia.

Her dress is sparkling during the golden hour before the sunset. It’s scarlet, not unlike the dress the empress wore when she met me, and it’s decorated with gold threads and real gems. Although it is terribly gaudy, the dress undoubtedly could buy you a small city. I feel jealous as I look at it. Not because I want to possess overly decorated dresses, but because it means that there is someone behind her who cares enough to make Julia look like this. And I have no one.

The difference in our standing could not be more clear as the two of us regard each other for the first time. Gold eyes meet gold for the second time in my life. I can only hope that right now at 5 years old, Julia is not as bad as she will later become in the webnovel. But since was anything easy in this world?

“Now, who might you be?” Julia asked in twinkling tone, the smile on her face contrasting the somber-faced guards towering behind her.

“Greetings, Princess Julia. I’m the new princess, Princess Winter. You are as pretty as everyone has mentioned,” I say as politely as possible, dropping into a low curtsey. When in doubt, always go with flattery.

My small trick seems to have temporarily worked. Julia breaks out in an even broader smile and covers her mouth in delight.

“Me? Pretty?” Julia asks. I nod and she squeals. There is a gleam of hope within me. Maybe I’ll be able to walk away unscathed. But Julia’s smile falls from her face too quickly, leaving a vacant expression that even a grown man would stumble back from.

“But what kind of unworthy slave can dare talk about me?!” she snarls, going from 0 to 100 in a few seconds. It seems Psycho Julia has been off her rocker since childhood. Such a shame I’m finding this out now, though.

“J-Julia,” I nervously mumble as sweat pours down my head in buckets, “I’m your little sister Winter.”

I remember the bonnet covering my famous white hair and tug the strings under my chin, but Marie knotted it too securely for my stubby, child-sized fingers. But the vigorous tugging undoes the neat bun and white hair comes spilling down my shoulders anyways. I wait for recognition to hit, but Julia’s face twists even further.

“Oh, I know you!” she starts. But before I can exhale in relief she continues in a dark voice. “You’re that slave mommy told me about who is trying to steal my birthright. Why do you want to be the promised child? It’s mine! MINE!”

She is enraged as she screams me, a nightmare of a child to deal with. I look at the guards standing around her pleadingly to save me from my half-sister’s wrath but they all regard me with equally unfriendly expressions. A mountain of a guard is approaching from a distance and I can already feel he’s the one in charge of all the underlings standing around Julia. His navy uniform has an extra sash going across his arm, a different color from Wolfgang’s sash that denotes his captain rank. This man is important.

His hair is cropped close to his skull and his eyes are so deep-set within his huge skull I can only see the shadows of them. This guard is the kind of man you cross the street to avoid if you encounter them at night.

He bows deeply to the raging Julia. “Your highness, is there a problem?” he asks in a gravelly voice.

“This slave snuck into my Sunset Palace and said mean things to me! Sir Berrick, please kill her!” Julia whined. My mouth dropped and I reeled back a few steps from my crazy sister. I want to furiously retort something at her, but I’m not stupid enough to let my anger get ahead of me. This situation has escalated way too fast and I decide to implore my case to this Berrick fellow.

“Sir Berrick,” I say, dropping into a curtsey even though I don’t have to. My voice wavers as I speak to him.

“My name is Princess Winter. I ran away from my palace for fun and accidentally got lost. I thought that this was the Rose Palace and I crawled in here. But I’m so excited to meet my new sister and didn’t say anything mean. I promise!”

I max out my cuteness with my big watering eyes and wobbling lips. There is no way anyone can resist a five-year-old’s tears.

“As you wish, Princess Julia,” Sir Berrick says, the murderous intent in his hidden eyes only further amplified by the toothless smile he flashes at me. Well, there’s a first for everything. What a terrifying boulder of a man for him to give such an evil look at someone as adorable as me. It’s time to blow this pop stand.

I can tell that the time for democracy is over. Julia is screaming her head off and kicking at the ground for the royal guards at her disposal to ‘grab the filthy slave’. In the confusion of her high pitched wailing, I start bolting towards the hedge I had initially crawled under. If I can escape out of there, I’ll just run to... ugh, I don’t even know the way to my palace. But I don’t want to stay cooped up in this courtyard with my insane sister and sit around waiting for my fate.

The royal guards had recognized my white hair, but none had dared to act up against her. Sir Berrick was high enough ranking that there was no doubt he knew about me, yet he had instead opted to give into Julia’s desires. I have no allies behind me.

I’ve reached the hedge I had crawled under and can hear the thundering footsteps of the guards as I dive onto my belly and begin to army crawl. This is the fastest I’ve ever moved since I woke up in this world and my chest is already burning, but I persevere. My head emerges from the other end I lock eyes with a young maid I’ve never seen before with a short black bob and matching black eyes. We are both startled as she backs away with impressive reflexes and I whack the back of my head on the hedge.

“Your highness!” she whisper-shouts.

Just as quickly as she was surprised by the site of me though, she reaches out her hand towards me urgently, her eyes as wide as saucers. She must have seen how quickly I was crucified by the very force that is supposed to protect the royal family.

My hand meets her, but no sooner do we come in contact do I feel a king kong sized hand wrap around my ankle and calf.