The Secret of the Seven Princesses

Raia allowed herself a small smile as she trailed Eralie and Cliodne from the dining room, flanked by Thaleia and followed closely by her three remaining sisters as the royal party made its familiar trek to their shared bedroom. Normally, she would feel guilty for leaving her father at the mercy of such a man as Sir Luka, but she could only feel a sense of amused relief at the unexpected reprieve from his interrogation. Her amusement was evidently shared by the majority of her sisters, judging from Thaleia's broad grin and the twinkle in Callia's eye.

"Did you see the look on his face?" said Thaleia. "He didn't know if he should be angry or confused! I thought he would turn purple!" Her dark auburn hair—slightly mussed in its ponytail—swished from side to side with the force of her jaunty strut as the group turned a corner and ascended the marble staircase.

"It would've clashed horribly with his hair," Raia mused faux-seriously, relishing in her twin's chuckle before succumbing to her own amusement.

"That was close!" Eurielle giggled from behind her. "My heart was beating so fast, I thought he suspected everything!"

"Well, your snoring probably didn't help the matter," Petra snapped peevishly. "If it were up to you, you'd probably blab our secret in your sleep, leaving us to clean up the mess while you dozed in your porridge!" She clearly didn't share in the relief exhibited by some of her sisters—but then, Raia would never have classified Petra as an optimist to begin with. Nor was she the most patient of sisters, if the glare she directed at Eurielle was any indication.

The fair haired princess took little time in mounting a defense: "I didn't ask you to catch me, and if you're going to be all high-and-mighty about it, I'd rather have swum in the gravy! Besides, if I wasn't roused at an ungodly hour this morning by someone rummaging around in her stupid trunk, maybe I would have been able to stay awake!"

"You're trying to blame it on me? You're the one who couldn't stay conscious during one measly dinner with Father!" Petra rolled her brown eyes, seeming about to add another scathing remark, at which point Raia felt it prudent to interject.

"Alright, that's enough. Lay off, Pet; it wasn't Eurielle's fault," she soothed, pausing slightly at the top of the stairs to allow Eurielle to catch up while Petra and Thaleia continued forward. The seven princesses walked two-by-two the rest of the way down the hall, with Eralie and Cliodne leading the way and Callia bringing up the rear, the odd princess out.

"Petra does have a point, though, Raia," Callia pointed out logically. "How could Father fail to suspect our secret when we've done little to hide our change in behavior? We should take more care—"

"Certainly you're not suggesting that we stop going?" said Thaleia incredulously, as if the very idea was ridiculous. "It was your idea!"

"I know, and I don't regret it for an instant. I'm not saying we should stop, but just maybe, every once in a while…"

Raia caught Callia's train of thought and continued. "…we should forego a night?" Her heart gave a pang and her head grew fuzzy at the mere thought of the idea. They'd spent countless hours in their sanctuary already, and Raia couldn't imagine a place better suited for the freedom and acceptance they'd always sought. Even the idea of allowing a single evening to pass without traversing that magical passageway seemed insurmountable, unthinkable. From the look on their faces, Raia's sisters felt the same way, though some seemed to have a harder time accepting the suggestion than others.

"It's only logical," said Cliodne, speaking over her shoulder to join in the conversation. "Particularly since Father has threatened us with this ridiculous guard notion. They won't be able to discover anything as long as they're outside the room, but even so, we should try to appear as normal as we can under the circumstances. We have to try to avoid Father's suspicion by not letting the guards find out anything. If we took a night off every now and then, we would be better rested, less prone to—" her eyes flickered over Eurielle before she turned back around, "—obvious displays of exhaustion, and more able to act the part."

"And we should definitely take better care of our slippers," Thaleia cut in, eying her sturdy boots alongside Raia's fragile shoes; Raia felt an uncanny urge to curl her toes, as her twin's tomboyish disdain made her strangely defensive of her frilly footwear. Though it was true that she had worn through several pairs of slippers in the past couple of weeks, she resented her twin's insinuation that she'd been to blame for raising their father's suspicions.

"Maybe we should work harder to rise earlier as well, and not to lie abed until late morning," Raia cut in, an edge to her voice as she made eye contact with Thaleia. A few moments of silent communication, and they settled their unspoken disagreement in a way that only twins can—through understanding of and insight into one another's feelings. Funnily enough, the tension between the two went entirely unnoticed by the rest of their sisters, who continued to discuss their methods of dealing with Gustave's suspicions.

"And we don't need to hold off every night, after all," argued Eralie, her blue eyes gleaming as she turned the brass knob on the large mahogany door leading to their bedchamber. "Just every once in a whole, enough to avoid suspicion."

"So we can still go tonight, then?" Eurielle asked eagerly. "It was my night to run the betrayal scene!"

Looking to Cliodne for her affirming nod, Raia assured: "We can still go tonight. After all, one more night wouldn't hurt." She felt the familiar flutter of excitement at the mere mention of their nighttime activities, particularly anything that related to their storytelling and acting endeavors. Raia's anticipation rose as she followed her sisters into the room, her eyes automatically turning to the rug that would later be removed to reveal the doorway to their dreams.

Raia had every intention of adhering to Callia's and Cliodne's suggestion to stagger their visits to the sanctum, particularly in light of their father's immediate implementation of his guard threat. However, "one more night" turned into another consecutive night, and another, and another, until restraint became the last consideration on any of their minds. One or more of the princesses always found an excuse that necessitated their return each night.

Raia's excitement was at its peak tonight in particular, though there was still an hour before Valeria's nightly visit. She couldn't restrain a slight shiver of anticipation as she considered the consistent progression of their nightly plays, which were steadily developing into a full-blown story with the unrestrained freedom offered by the sanctum. Raia collected her kit of sewing supplies and paints together with the fabric swatches that Petra had gathered from around the palace. She tied them together in a burgundy bundle, then pushed it out of sight under her scarlet-covered bed, where she could readily reach it after Valeria had come and gone. Straightening up, she turned to survey the action in the other corners of the room. Her sisters—with the exception of Eralie and Thaleia, who had each disappeared after dinner—were employed in various pastimes as part of their now nightly routine of preparation and compilation for their midnight activities.

Cliodne was getting ready to burn the midnight oil…literally. She had lined up seven oil lamps in a row on the floor and was moving down the line, filling them to the brim with camphor that she'd begged off of Valeria the previous night. Raia had at first protested this manner of refilling the lamps—after all, how would they explain an oil stain in the carpet?—but Cliodne had anticipated such a problem, cushioning each of the lamps with three terry cloth towels apiece to catch every single drop.

Callia paced back and forth across the room, muttering to herself as she scribbled in her journal. Her hair, normally neatly braided down her back, was fastened messily in a knot upon her head, and her right cheek was smudged with ink. Every so often, Callia would take a theatric stance reminiscent of Eralie at her most dramatic, mouth a few words, and jot something down in a moment of sudden inspiration. She had been working in such a fashion for several days now, ever since the princesses had first begun speaking seriously of developing their random skits into a story, and their story into a theatrical production.

Eurielle was the only one among the sisters who remained virtually still and silent at her post by the door. She was perched upon her knees with her head inclined to listen for any telltale sound outside of their room. Thus far, their father's guards had consistently reported to their posts only after Valeria had locked their door at night, but the princesses refused to take this pattern for granted. In an attempt to avoid accidental detection, Cliodne had tasked the youngest princess with guard duty of their own—which also kept Eurielle from interfering and annoying her sisters, particularly Petra.

Petra, in an uncharacteristic display of selfless domesticity, had offered to help Raia with her many costume alterations. She was perched delicately upon her trunk, bent over a pair of purloined pants with a look of frustrated concentration upon her face. Every so often, she would rear back from her work with a slight cry of pain and stick her wounded finger into her mouth to relieve the sting.

Raia could empathize with Petra's sewing frustrations. After many painstaking hours of work, she had finally finished altering the curtain for the stage, rigging the material around a long wooden pole that used to be a rake from the gardener's shed. Raia held out her slim, long-fingered hands in front of her face, grimacing at the slightly red pinpricks that marred their once smooth texture. It had taken many attempts to get the hang of working her sewing needle through the heavy brocade. She felt grateful that it was such a dark color, as she was uncertain whether she would have been able to keep from staining the fabric with her blood. This was not something she would ever tell any of her sisters, however, particularly Thaleia, who—despite or perhaps because of her many mishaps—could not stand the sight of another person's blood.

With a slight squeak, Eurielle scooted away from the door. "Someone's coming!" she hissed, scrambling to her feet. She ran to help Cliodne hide her lamps while Raia stuffed the now-folded curtain under her bed to join her bundle. Before all evidence of their activity had vanished, however, the door swung open. Raia froze where she knelt by her bed, only to sigh in relief as Eralie glided in, followed closely by Thaleia.

Thaleia cracked a grin at seeing the guilty looks upon her sisters' faces, and Eralie's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline as she wryly asked, "You were expecting someone else?"

Feeling no need to answer her sister's question, Raia reached back under her bed to retrieve her bundle. Before she could draw it out to continue packing it, however, she was stopped by Thaleia.

"Keep it hidden," her twin advised, then raised her voice to include the rest of her sisters. "Valeria will be up soon. Eralie heard her tell Horace, that new guard, to meet her up here in ten minutes. She's planning to come early."

This piece of news threw the room into another whirlwind of panicked mayhem, though slightly less frantic than it was a moment before. The activity of the room resumed as the princesses worked to cover their tracks. Cliodne and Eurielle continued wrapping the oil lamps in their towels, stuffing two apiece into each of the wardrobes belonging to Thaleia, Cliodne, Raia, and Callia—more specifically, the ones least crowded with clothes (in Thaleia's case, this was due to the fact that most of her limited clothing selection were scattered across the floor or stuffed under her bed). Callia ceased the appearance of composition and began her nighttime routine by dressing and cleaning up for "bed", as did Eralie and Thaleia. Petra, noticeably relieved to have her domestic good deed ended a half hour earlier than planned, practically threw the half-mended pants in Raia's general direction, then retreated to the wash basin before anyone could make any further requests of her.

Raia doubted that there was anything else she could do in the short amount of time before Valeria arrived, so she merely retrieved her boots to add to the collection under the bed before joining the majority of her sisters in changing and washing up. She donned her red nightgown and cleaned her teeth at the wash basin—tasks that took little time in the scheme of things, even considering the scuffle she had to break up between Eurielle and Petra over who rightfully possessed the pink painted toothbrush (Eurielle). After relinquishing the sink to Eralie, she returned to her bed, pulling down the covers and climbing between the soft, silky sheets.

Regardless of the excitement pumping through her veins, Raia couldn't deny the temptation of her downy mattress luring her into a deep slumber. It was like this every night when she climbed into bed, and she assumed that it was so for the rest of her sisters, as well. She could barely keep her eyes open, even though she was expecting Valeria's tell-tale knock all the while. Through a slight haze of exhaustion, she narrowly watched Eurielle and Cliodne climbing into their own beds, the last of the princesses to do so. This was becoming the norm of many nights, though not all; the princesses would be prepared for the bed check well before the housekeeper's visit, except on the occasional night when they were carried away with their preparations.

Even though she had been expecting it, the sound of Valeria's knock startled Raia just the same; she suspected it had more to do with the fact that she had been awakened from her doze than that the housekeeper had actually startled her.

"Come in," called Cliodne. Raia was impressed that she still managed to look and sound completely alert, even through a humongous yawn.

Upon Valeria's entrance, Raia caught sight of two palace guards standing sentinel just outside the doorway, having clearly just reported to their posts. She couldn't suppress a sigh as she considered the fruitlessness of her father's endeavors—though she couldn't even pretend to hold a smidgeon of guilt for his consistent disappointment.

The Head of Housekeeping seemed surprised to find all of the princesses already in bed, despite the fact that it certainly wasn't the first time this had happened in the last two months. However, if the snores and deep breathing were any indication, more than one of Her Majesties had already entered dreamland before the customary nighttime visit. This was certainly odd behavior to fulfill the king's suspicions, but Raia considered it to be a lesser proof in lieu of Eurielle's previous indiscretion. What could Valeria possibly tell their father—that the princesses were disobeying him by falling asleep too soon?

Valeria bustled around the room in her usual manner, albeit slightly more softly than usual. She spoke in an undertone to Cliodne, Eralie, Petra, and Thaleia, bestowed a feathery kiss apiece on the sleeping Eurielle and Callia, then turned to Raia.

"I'm going to tell you the same as I told your sisters," she whispered, leaning so close to Raia that she could smell cloves and cinnamon on her breath. Raia closed her eyes as she felt the matronly woman's lips on her forehead, opening them again to look into her eyes as she continued.

"Your father's worried about you, and you can't really blame him. Really, Princess, is all this really necessary? Should you really be worrying your father in this way?" Raia stamped down a fraction of guilt. Valeria cupped her face in her palm, gently compelling her to look at her. "I just hope you know that you can talk to me about anything, whatever it is." Her eyes traveled over the princess's face, looking for any sign or hint of compliance. Raia pursed her lips to keep from saying anything.

Having received as little an answer from Raia as any of her other sisters, Valeria straightened up, her disappointment evident, and doused the last remaining candle on the nightstand at the front of the room. Now, the only source of light in the princesses' bedchamber streamed through the open door at the other end. Valeria moved to stand in the center of the bedchamber, directly on top of the rug, and circled around to survey each of the princesses in turn—even those who appeared as nothing more than breathing lumps of blankets.

"I don't know where you're going, what you're doing, or how you're doing it, but I hope it's worth all this secrecy and sleeplessness. Good night." And on that cryptic note, Valeria walked to the door and let herself out, giving Raia another glimpse of the soldiers outside. The definitive thunk of the dead bolt attested to the end of Valeria's visit.

As with every night since their first discovery of the sanctum, Raia felt newly rejuvenated after hearing the turn of that lock. She turned to her nightstand, fumbled clumsily in the dark for a few moments, then succeeded in lighting the candle next to her bed. One by one, each of her sisters sat up where they lay, lighting each of their own candles and lanterns—even Eurielle, who had not had to be awakened by any of her sisters for at least two weeks. It seemed as if the excitement of the secret or the magic of the sanctum—or perhaps both—allowed her to return to wakefulness at the exact moment when they planned to descend. It was quite an interesting development, particularly since Raia was beginning to realize that they were each experiencing similar, though less obvious, feelings of alertness related with their nightly trips through the trapdoor.

She climbed from her bed, retrieved each of her bundles from beneath the comforter, took one of Cliodne's lanterns, and walked to the base of the woven rug. Raia felt the cluster of her sisters joining her as they pulled back the woven floor piece to reveal the trapdoor and, a second later, the materializing ring. She watched as Thaleia pulled it up, stepping back for the familiar wind that blew through the room. One by one, the princesses descended the stone staircase, succumbing to the inevitable pull of the magic.

Author's Note: As always, reviews are very much appreciated. Just go ahead and click that little button down there and let us know what we're doing right or wrong!