Royal Trials

K. Ryan, 2005

Felicity knew that liking pale pinks and other pastels did not make her a princess. Neither did having red hair, green eyes, and the delicate bone-structure of a former queen, though that did help make an impression. What made Felicity Reiko Hamilton a princess in all but name was character, and desire. She knew what she wanted to be, and she never took tea from a mug.

She also knew that sacrifices had to be made.

“Flick, I mean…I thought….”

Felicity sat straight, ankles crossed together, conscious of the way her hair lay shining over her shoulders and down her back in the late afternoon sun. She sipped her tea, and looked at the young, blushing man with genuine sympathy in her eyes.

“I know you thought,” she said. “But it’s impossible. And please, don’t call me that.”

“What should I call you? Your majesty?”

He was a blurred mix of blue eyes and ragged hair and earnest expression, now blotched red. Felicity hid her embarrassed smile behind her hand. “You’ll find someone else,” she murmured.

The man—the boy—laughed, trying to save his dignity. “I thought you liked me.”

“You’re… very sweet.”

“Not that sweet.” When he looked at her, she almost blushed. “I’m gone,” he said.

“Yes. You’d better.”

--

After he’d gone, Felicity flipped the locket she had worn faithfully since age nine. The miniature portrait was a good one. Smiling softly, she kissed it and then let it fall back to her breast. Only small, yet, but she knew she had years.

The girl sighed. It was almost a shame. He really had been quite sweet.

Still, her response to his ‘advances’ was the right one. She had always understood that purity was a fleeting thing, and she knew for whom she wanted it saved.

One day, Felicity would be a princess in more than spirit. She could wait long and hard for a happy ending.