The Lost Gem (On Hold)

Ophelia

More than two months after arriving in Theronsia, Ophelia had still not made head or tail of the situation. William Lucas, Jack's father, had had no trouble recognizing her. He hadn't even asked for rings and royal seals. One look at Ophelia, and he had shook his head, "I wouldn't have been surer. You are the Royal Blood, My Lady." he had said. On some other occasion, perhaps that would have thrilled Ophelia. But not that day. She didn't know what to say, what to think - what to make out of all this. For the first month, she had been dumbstruck. And now, she could speak, she could even laugh. She had almost accepted what was happening - that she would go with the flow (although surrounding her was a flood, not any flow).

Layla Lucas, meanwhile, was something else entirely. A tall, handsome woman of more than fifty with an extraordinarily sharp mind. As soon as Jack had introduced Ophelia to his mother, Layla Lucas had thrown her brown curls behind and strode up to her.

'You are a Princess?' She had questioned, calmly. Perhaps William Lucas had taught her the Vedessan tongue, but it would have been better if that hadn't been the case. What she had asked had been the most ordinary thing to enquire of. But something about Layla Lucas - her unaffected superiority, had irked Ophelia.

'I am.' She had replied, shortly. They were of the same height, perhaps Ophelia was taller. But the Lucas seemed higher - in confidence.

'And why would we keep you?'

The question, all the more ordinary, had seemed to settle a blanket of dread upon everything. Jack had crossed his arms uncomfortably, nor approving of his mother's straightforward impoliteness, neither in the position to confront it.

'Well-' Ophelia had begun, in a constricted, politely furious tone. A part of her had begun sub-consciously trying to imitate her father. Such that whenever faced with a situation, the first thing she wondered was what would have Liam done in the scene. Sadly, she had known then that she couldn't imitate the way her father would have smiled and answered with something unobjectionable - not the least perturbed. Struggling to find words, she had been saved by the timely arrival of William Lucas - who was rather prudent, better behaved than his wife, and had a thorough remembrance of Liam.

Layla Lucas had smirked, swayed her hips as though spiting Ophelia, and gracefully walked back inside. Then not ever bringing up any controversial topics.

The biggest thing everybody had wondered, was "what to do, now?" And Aria Lucas, Jack's elder sister - who had taken after her mother, both in appearance and sensibility - had come up with the perfect solution.

'Princess Ophelia, is Royal.' she had said, which was the most evident thing. 'Which is why she should have an audience with at least our Queen, before moving on.' And then she had added something in Theronise which Ophelia hadn't quite understood. But the language wasn't as difficult. Quite a few words were shared between the dictionaries, and Ophelia had found herself vaguely understanding that Aria Lucas had said something like "royal lives are bad, we do not want trouble, do we?" or along those lines.

'How can she have an audience with Her Majesty, without knowing the language, Aria?' Layla Lucas had demanded. The bilingual family seemed to be rather argumentative among themselves.

'She cannot completely not understand what we are speaking.' William Lucas had said, 'When I came around, I could understand broken sentences. Surely, Princess Ophelia, you can do the same?'

'I can.' she had replied, 'I know you wouldn't want trouble, I do not intend to give you any.' she had added, making Aria Lucas go pink and turn away.

'That was not bad!' Jack Lucas had exclaimed, glinting with evident pleasure from Aria's embarrassment. 'I can make you fluent within sixty days.' He had added, his father had laid a hand to his shoulder, perhaps asking him to be a bit politer. But Ophelia hadn't minded.