Chapter Ten

...Now, as descendant of one-half of the hip-conjoined "Piccolo Twins" (Helene, not Lucienne), I have the strongest desire to move on my own-- a stronger sense of individuality, as bizarre as that seems. Yes, that was the 1530s, but the past burns stronger than ever. I recall the dreadful film back in the day; it made me want to contact the Elf Heritage Society and evade human life for good. Too many liberties were taken-- as all records indicate the twins were content with their conjoined condition. They knew no different. When they married, they still played the piccolo-- they did not assign those duties to their husbands. I am also certain that they looked nothing like Yvonne de Carlo.

If I ever see that dreadful film again, I will change the channel. It sends a terrible message. My daughter doesn't need a man to save her. She knows that-- or at least I think she does.

--from Amma's diary

Pearl forced herself to move. She swung her legs over the bedside and stood up, pulling on her old clothes. Her eyes darted across the floor. The corset was nowhere to be found, so she resorted to sucking in her stomach. Why? she thought, No one was here, and even if they were...!

She exhaled, letting it go. It was harder than she expected. Besides, she thought, I ruined it...I destroyed Prince Hinata's life...and Princess Achara's life! I...I...! She slicked her brown-ombre hair back with one hand, curling her fingers around several thickets of hair. That man never wanted a wedding! For Achara, it may have been a misunderstanding about my sleeping habit, but for me to stay over like that...! He didn't want to come on too strong, I think, but he seemed defensive. Of me, and my odd habit and my presence and...! Her eyes popped at the memory of their first meeting. He touched my knee...not once, but twice!

He wants me to stay?! And the way the Princess reacted is only the way of a woman scorned! Her mouth fell open. Oh my God...he never did want to marry her! Even if he did, the ultimate goal was...was...me!

Her heart pounded. Maybe he does want to marry her, but only for necessity. I would be the mistress; I would be the warm body he desires all day and holds all night. I would be the..."other woman!" She shook her head, nausea bubbling in her throat. What am I going to do?!

The door cuh-rrrrreaked open. The sound was so jagged and high-pitched, Pearl jumped. She stared at the small crack of pale-blue air, anxiously awaiting Prince Hinata's slumped, dejected frame. The form she saw was short and round, with glossy cat-eye glasses. A plump, white-powdered face looked up at her with soft, sad eyes.

"Gr-Grandma Bathilde?" Pearl stammered, "H-How did you...?"

Bathilde lifted a red-clawed finger to her lips.

"I'll explain later," she whispered, "Come on, let's get you out of here."

"Now?"

"D'accord! The man is gone; it's the best time we can go!"

"B-But how did you find me?"

"I'll explain later," Bathilde repeated, "There's no time, ma bichette."

She wrapped her hand around Pearl's wrist and yanked her outside, slamming the door behind them.

"Grandma," Pearl whispered, "Can you wait for a minute?"

"Why?"

"My corset's in there."

"Oh, poo! You don't need that thing anyway-- it's a torture device!"

"I know, but I don't want him to find it, or his mother to find it and...."

Pearl's voice wilted as she saw the lights flash on in the Palace windows. She saw the shiny black backs of people's heads-- but moved too quickly to see if they were servants or Imperial family members. Everything blurred into each other: the bright ivory walls, the lush green grass, the faint-blue morning sky....

Her stomach rolled with nausea. The world became a cyclone, tearing through the lush green fields of her mind. It tore away the roots of what grew. and the wilted blossoms of what never did. It broke memories into pieces that were too sharp to hold.

"I...I ruined it," she gasped.

"Oh, forget them! Their lives are none of your business, ma bichette."

"But I feel so stupid, Grandma. How did I convince myself he...was innocent?"

Bathilde stopped running to catch her breath. When she looked up, her mouth was tight, yet her eyes glinted with tears.

"Some men are good at that," she said firmly, "You remember what I said about M. Beraude?"

Pearl nodded, recognizing the term Grandma used to refer to her horrible husband.

"We never officially divorced," Grandma went on, "So if I were to marry another man, God forbid, that would make me a bigamist. It'd be worth it though, after all the scars he gave me."

Pearl shuddered at the horror stories about her grandfather-- beating her, slapping her, pressing a pillow over her face as Uncle Emmanuel was conceived. No wonder she ran away from him and stayed with the giants, all those years ago.

"That man made Stanley Kowalski sound like an angel."

"I don't know who that is, but they're probably about the same." She looked up fiercely. "Did that Prince try anything with you?"

"No. In fact, he told me I was only there to report on the wedding. Although it was kind of weird how he insisted that I stay."

"How long?"

"For a week."

Grandma Bathilde clasped her hands together.

"That's it. The man was into you."

"I know, I know, I just didn't want to...."

"Well, it's not your fault. He probably would have gathered up the next pretty thing that walked by."

"But I'm not pretty," Pearl spat, "I don't know why he likes me."

"Which is why you will continue your training," Bathilde replied, "But only if you want to, ma bichette. I think-- and I cannot force you --it will be a wiser alternative than pursuing a taken man."

"I tried to on my own, in the little garden, but...."

"Hmm! You don't sound as enthused...!" huffed a deep voice.

"Huh?"

"The man's not a complete pervert," continued the deep voice, "After all, he gave you snacks and a show."

The women turned. Hajime emerged from behind a side wall, causing Bathilde to jump.

"Don't do that to me!" she huffed, "You want me to die now?"

"Of course not," he chuckled, "I was saying...the Prince is smarter than I gave him credit for."

"You can't be praising him...!"

"No! What I'm saying is, that makes him scarier than anticipated."

"Scary," Pearl repeated, "I'm scared he's going to find me because I ruined his wedding. He and his entire family. Ohhhhh!" She rubbed her face. "Royalty is a lot more than crowns and finger sandwiches!"

"Better late than never," huffed Hajime, "Come on, let's get back to the inn before the guards can find us."

Apparently, "guards" must have struck a nerve with Bathilde, because she began to run as if they were being chased by bears.

Pearl followed the couple, but rage sizzled under her skin as it melted into the peaks and valleys of her bones. She wanted to be desired again. She wanted to be seen as something sexier than a "little lamb" or her grandma's "bichette". She wanted that rush of desire, of another's man's desire for her. When was the last time a man's desired me? she thought, frowning to herself, Never! I've never been with another man. God knows I'm too ugly for them!

As she ran, she gazed back at the ivory Palace. If only the man inside was bold enough to lift his chained arms from the golden ice of his throne.

XXX

Who knew the Prince gives a shit that you don't like underwear? I don't like him.

--the diary of Princess Achara

I took a few pictures of Pearl as she slept…I know she didn't notice. The way her long lashes curl, the way her soft pink lips part, the way her small firm breasts rise and fall in the silvery moonlight…! I ran a hand down her cheek. Her skin was so soft and warm I wanted to curl up beside her. I ran another along her breast-- so soft, yet so firm, I wanted to hold it as I slept. I wanted to tear off the covers and curl deep between them— so I could hear the low hum of her heart. But could I risk waking her? No. Not with the trust between us. I wanted to stay longer, but my eyes (and other body parts) absorbed her beauty. I'll think of her while "napping"; She sleeps beautifully.

—the diary of Prince Hinata

"Impossible!" gasped the King of Thailand, "I don't care how many women he's got in beds, you will marry him!"

The Imperial family was gathered in the luxurious, European-style parlor. Prince Hinata sat with his head in his hands as his parents (his mother, mostly) traded insults and complaints with the Thai King. Sadistically enough, the servants enjoyed this, smiling as they refilled teacups. Princess Achara perched regally in one grape-carved Rococo chair, her posture straight enough for a wax figure. She didn't touch her tea or fan, but nursed the sparkling remains of her engagement ring in a cupped hand. Her full lips pressed firmly together. Her hard, unblinking eyes darted with rage. When she spoke, everyone shivered.

"I don't want to be with a man who sees me as Plan B," she hissed, "If he wants a common plain lady, he can have her."

"Now, Your Highness, there are sacrifices a Princess must make," reasoned the Empress, "No offense, but you are a bit too dark and plump for my son's liking. It's only natural that a Prince marries for status, but loves for satisfaction."

Princess Achara eyed the old woman like she was a heap of dirty clothes.

"I'm no fool. I understand why this was arranged, but to keep that white woman around is just blatant disrespect."

"But, Achara," added her father, rubbing his chin, "There is no white woman. Didn't you hear what the guards found?"

"An open corset laying on the floor. Isn't that proof enough?"

"It could have been yours," coughed the Emperor.

"I don't wear underwear," Princess Achara spat, "Not bras, not panties, and definitely not corsets."

"My, my," the King snapped, "Aren't we vulgar and unladylike?"

"But it's true!"

"It could very well be my son's," suggested the Empress, "I'm always telling him to mind his figure."

"A man?" chuckled the Thai King, "You're beyond ridiculous."

The Empress tipped her head back and laughed, folding a claw-like hand over her mouth.

"Now I see where the Princess gets her vulgarity!"

"That is the least of our concerns."

Everyone turned at the Prince's muffled groan. He lifted his head from his hands, and his face looked like he hadn't slept in days. Dark circles piled under his eyes. His skin was pale and slimy with sweat. His hands twitched rhythmically, like they were keeping time with his racing heart.

"There is another woman," he continued, "And she is the most beautiful I have ever seen. She isn't that smart, but she's the sweetest I have ever had the fortune of meeting."

"Another woman?" the Emperor cried, "Is she, by any chance, white?"

The Prince squeezed his eyes shut.

"Yes."

"It's that journalist, Pearl Solstice!" added Princess Achara, "You thought the name was fake, didn't you, Daddy? Well...!" She yanked her phone out of her dress pocket and began typing furiously. "Look! This is her bibliography!"

The Thai King frowned.

"I've never heard of any of these magazines. And her titles are...abysmal."

"How can you not hear of Tatler?" demanded the Princess, "Or People? Vogue, Cosmopolitan, InStyle, Vice, Good Housekeeping?"

"All Western titles," grunted the Emperor.

"But big ones that everyone can read," the Princess pointed out, "She may not be famous, but she's the most-read Canadian I'm aware of."

"What did she write?" asked the King.

"That doesn't matter now."

"Well, I need to know who he's dealing with-- an eloquent dame or sassy little troll."

Princess Achara slid her phone back into her pocket and grabbed her cup. She blew softly on the tea before sipping, creating little ripples on the amber liquid.

"Enough about her," she snorted, "What about him?"

"You will marry him," barked the King, "And that's an order!"

"And what's the only way I can't?"

The King scowled at his daughter, nostrils flaring like a bull's.

"I would say-- severe injury, illness, or death."

"So we have no choice,"-- the Prince's voice was oddly calm -- "But to marry, and learn to love each other."

"It's still her fault, though," the Empress snapped, "If she was unable to satisfy you so badly, you had to resort to...someone else."

Rage shoved the Prince to his feet. He grit his teeth, arching one brow to his hairline as his cheeks blushed pink. The Empress leaned back, her mouth twitching in shock.

"I'm a grown man!" he shouted at her, "One day, I'll rule you, or you'll be dead, so why does it matter who I'm with?!"

The room fell silent. Nobody anticipated this outburst-- least of all, his mother, with her sharp eyes and acidic words. Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

"Then it's understood," snapped the Prince, "I will marry Achara, but love Pearl."

Achara cackled aloud, showing her long, scarlet tongue.

"That is, if you can find her!"

The Prince yanked her sharply by the collar. She froze, and her mouth drooped into shock.

"I can find anyone. You will not underestimate me. Understood?"

He let go, and she tumbled backwards, nodding. Kanako shuffled in, with a tray of small, elegant snacks drizzled in sauces. She locked eyes with the Prince. They said nothing, but the sad twinkle in hers told him everything.