The Royal Thief

Chapter Sixty-one: A Girl Named Li

That beautiful drawing of Morane was done by @maidenjapan, and if you don't love it you're wrong because it's amazing and perfect and may have been my only motivation for managing to get this chapter up because I was extremely unmotivated to write but needed to share this beautiful art with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I muttered.

"You offered," the princess reminded me, her voice wavering. She'd been twitchy and nervous since I shook her awake, taking twice as long as she should have to get dressed. I paced back and forth in front of the window as she fumbled with loose, dark clothing that she probably used for training and the boots I'd brought for her. I'd outgrown them years ago and they were still too large for her, but the scuffed leather and worn heels looked more authentic than any shoes I'd ever seen her wearing.

Even in the dark, the princess's bedroom was impressive. A huge bed hung with floor-length curtains loomed on one side, opposite double doors of glass panes that opened onto the night-shadowed balcony. I wouldn't let her light the ornate lanterns set about the room, but a single, guttering candle dashed red light against the black glass panes. I felt thick carpets beneath my feet, and my shadow paced with me in several floor-length mirrors. The barest outlines of tall doors, to the sitting room where we had our lessons and to what must be a washroom and dressing room, were also visible through the thick gloom, barely illuminated from the same spare light that revealed gold gilt trimming every piece of furniture.

"I'm ready."

I paused from my pacing long enough to glance at her. She didn't look ready. She still looked like a princess. I resumed pacing more rapidly. She was wearing the right clothes, or nearly. She shouldn't look so obviously royal. What was it? I shot another look at her. Was she still wearing earrings? A bauble in her hair?

Of course, her hair. I sighed. Most Solangians-- anyone whose bloodlines came from this land and not a foreign country, or at least mostly from this land-- had hair dark brown or black. Sandy hair like Beck's was unusual, and red hair like Nali's drew backward glances from strangers, and both were obvious signs of foreign blood, though native by birth. Unusual, but both Nali and Beck exuded familiarity with the city. Magali had no familiarity, and her hair was the color of apricots, strange and frizzed.

It had always been this way with the royal family, or at least it had been for centuries. Royals were most commonly married to foreigners, for the purpose of alliances and treaties, and so there was some kind of strange logic that the royal family may have had the least amount of true Solangian blood in the kingdom. It was why Sam's hair was so light, why the king's hair was tinted like his daughter's. And unlike nobles, who had the habit of dying light hair dark and pretending pure Solangian heritage, King Aeric had never set his family the example of doing so. 

This wasn't going to work, not like this. "Cover your hair," I told her, eyeing its unruly strands critically.

"With what?"

By going roughly through her sashes and wasting more time than I would have liked, we found a suitable length of fabric that would pass, as long as nobody looked too closely, and with a combination of tugging, swearing, and braiding her hair with way I'd seen Cara do hers, I managed to tuck all loose strands into the twisted scarf, somewhat resembling how I'd seen some women wear theirs in the city. Then there were her eyebrows to fix, with swipes of dark powder meant to darken eyelids, and then I had something resembling a reasonable disguise.

"Tell me again why I'm doing this?" I muttered vehemently, swinging myself out her window. I heard her stifled gasp as I disappeared, and I pulled myself up again for half a second to glare at her. Quiet. She got the message.