The Kingdom of Secrets and Ruin

Dalliah

“No, no no!” I squeak out as the container hits the hard stone floor. The remaining powder flies up into the air like a cloud of smoke and I wish I could disappear just as easily.

That’s the last of my facepaint now gone and there’s nothing I can do to cover the markings that have haunted me since birth. The shock of the inevitable shouldn’t affect me so much but I can’t help but feel the tears start to prickle in my eyes.

There was barely enough to even minimise the difference in colour, and for a second I just stare at the container in the hopes that it will somehow replenish itself and I won’t be forced to walk out of this room bare as the day I was regretfully born.

This week has been hard enough. Being the king’s personal maid is as demanding as I feared and while I feel that I’ve mastered my face of indifference, something that is no small feat let me tell you, there is not a moment where I don’t feel the struggle.

“Is everything okay Dal- OH!” Marjorie’s eyes dart from the floor to my face a few times as she takes in the scene before her.

We’ve still not spoken much since my new role and if it wasn’t for the circumstances, I’d be thrilled that she even asked that after hearing my squeal. But I have bigger problems than my strained friendship, if I can call something made purely out of obligation on both sides, such a thing.

“Please tell it to me plainly,” I raise my head as stiffly as if already facing the executioner’s blade, “Will they know my name now?”

It’s a question I know that I should have asked weeks ago, but I’ve been foolish and dug my head in the sand. Not wanting to know exactly what would happen the moment my limited supply would finally come to an end.

Marjorie opens her mouth and closes it again. Her eyebrows are bunched in thought which I appreciate as it shows that she’s taking my question as seriously as it should be. Though there’s no denying the part of me that wished for the sugar coated answer that Ingaret would have replied with instantly.

“Ingaret and I know.” She starts, “Cook knows and so does Mr Graham, the Butler but we are all sworn under the blood oath.” She swallows hard. “Even before King Ruairi we were told to keep the secret and so while it will draw attention, I’m sorry but you know it will… I don’t think they’ll know who you are.”

She bites her lip as if trying to convince herself of this fact, as I suppose her compliance with helping me will make her almost as guilty as I am for being born. Mutually assured destruction, my mother clearly knew what she was doing when enforcing this. But I just hope that she was never burdened with anticipating her fate which was to come.

“We just need a cover for how you could afford the face paint.” Marjorie’s face is lost in thought as she tries to imagine how a common servant could afford such a luxury, and unfortunately I don’t know enough about this life yet to be able to help.

“You’re an orphan that has come here to make a living after losing your parents… that’s the story we have used so far.” She thinks aloud, “We’ll just have to say you were left some money, and it was used in an effort to cover your birthmarks.”

I can tell that she’s happy with this excuse, as her shoulders have finally sagged slightly from their rigid posture.

“Because anyone would want to cover them…” I finish the sentence more for myself than for her wishing I didn’t sound so pathetic in the process.

It stings to know that this is why our lie would be so believable, but I suppose there’s a reason my own father never wanted me. At least I know that I’ll survive the day now, even if I might not want to from all of the attention I can expect to come my way.

I let myself fall back against the bed, creasing my newly washed uniform, but I couldn’t care less about looking nice for the king. If it wouldn’t affect my pay, something I’m saving in the hopes of escape, I’d happily remain covered in dust but there are expectations of me now and it would be seen as disrespecting our new monarch to show up in his presence coated in dirt.

Nameless wriggles free from my arms and curls up in a ball against my pillow after what I assume was a long night of hunting on his part. I wish I could join him there as this moment of stress has already taken a lot out of me. But before I can even consider feigning illness, Tommy approaches the doorway and I sigh in anticipation of another order from the king.

Poor man, he’s nothing but a messenger of my fate these days and I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I dread his approach at this point. Marjorie however, straightens herself quickly and if I’m not mistaken even smooths her hair for a second with knowing that we’re no longer alone.

“Dalliah-” Tommy cuts himself off as he notices my face and no doubt the white skin around my eye that is now bright red with the flush of shame that takes over me in response.

No, I can’t let that happen.

I can’t let their opinions get to me like this or I’ll never make it through today. Of course, that’s easier said than done but I at least need to try and keep my composure.

“Yes, Tommy?” I ask dryly, making it obvious that offence has been taken.

I mean, I might not be a princess in hiding anymore but as the king’s maid I am due some sort of respect. At least that’s what Ingaret told me anyway when we were attending the servants hall the other day.

“Sorry Dalliah,” He shakes his head as if to remove himself from a trance, “The King wants you to fetch him his cloak.”

“...And where is his royal highness?” I reply through gritted teeth and feel Marjorie’s toe starting to crush mine in response to my tone. But on the bright side, this can be seen as irritation towards him rather than the king in this instance so I think that I’m okay.

“The grandhall.” Tommy nods his head in that general direction and then backs away quickly.

Of course he would say the grandhall. I mean, why wouldn’t the king want to summon me to the most crowded place in the castle on the very day my cover is ruined? It’s as if he has a sixth sense on how to make my life a misery and I’m unsure how to prepare myself for what’s to come.

“You look pale.” Marjorie comments and I close my eyes to focus on holding back the exasperated laugh that fights to break free, “I mean, all of you looks pale, not just your… birthmark.” She corrects herself swiftly.

I snort, perhaps one of the most unladylike gestures that I’ve allowed myself to try these days. “I am scared.”

I don’t know what I expected from her but when she merely nods in agreement and adjusts her dress before leaving the room, I feel not just fear, but hurt as well.

A small part of me thought we were making progress this morning but I guess what does it matter? If I can have it my way, I’ll soon make enough to leave this place and then all I’ll need from her is for her to keep the blood oath that she made to my family.