P.S. Tell Basil I dried the towel.
And another:
Lucy,
If I die, burn my extra secret books. You know where they are. Love you forever.
—Esther
P.S. You’d be a male knight, to gloat about having the biggest sword. Very important.
If she had more time, she would have written letters to Basil and the Baroness as well, but she didn’t know what would be appropriate. She wanted to thank them for never giving up on her and to apologize for not being a good princess.
She sniffed and blinked hard, willing herself not to cry. She gave herself a moment to collect herself before making either the best or the worst decision of her life.
“What happened to your hair?” Lucy’s shout split the quiet, immediately muffled by Esther’s palm over her mouth. Esther both loved and hated her friend’s uncanny timing. At that moment, it leaned more toward hate.
“What happened to knocking?” Esther whispered, releasing her hand from Lucy’s mouth.
“I haven’t knocked on your door since my first day as your personal maid. Now tell me why you look like that.” Lucy spread her arms wide, gesturing at Esther’s entire being. She didn’t know where to begin. The mismatched, untied boots, wrinkled cloak, and wrongly buttoned dress all painted a picture of a woman who didn’t know how to dress herself. Because she didn’t, and it couldn’t have been more painfully obvious.
“Long story. Short version: arranged marriage. Warted orc king. I’m leaving.”
Lucy peeked into Esther’s satchel as she straightened her buttons and cloak. “You packed eight books and no food?”
“I have a cinnamon roll!”
“You can’t even start a fire,” she grumbled, kneeling to swap Esther’s boots to match.
“Actually, I always start fires,” Esther said, pointing at the puddle of what used to be a candle and the slightly singed curtains.
“Why is it always the curtains?” Lucy shoved two meat pies into Esther’s satchel. “Here. Try not to die stupid.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“Good girl.” Lucy squeezed her tightly with trembling arms. “Go before I cry and think better of not stopping you.”
“I love you.” Esther hugged her back hard, holding back her own tears, then ran. She was grateful for the embrace before she disappeared. She might have regretted it otherwise if they had never seen each other again.
“Yeah,” Lucy’s voice cracked. “I’ll buy you as much time as I can. Now go.”
Esther ran without looking back. If she did, she couldn’t trust herself to keep going. She just wanted to see one more place before she left, the only place she could ever breathe and feel alive.
The garden her mother had loved so dearly.
She couldn’t remember her face anymore, aside from portraits. But she still faintly remembered having scones and milk with her mother during afternoon tea in this garden.
“Mother,” she said softly into the wind, “if you can hear me, please don’t let me die stupid. Or messy.”
She took a deep breath. She had never used a teleportation spell before; her father had strictly forbidden it. But she had readabout it. She decided not to think about how it could go wrong. She would deal with whatever happened after.
She drew the rune sigil she vaguely remembered into the ground.
The wind whipped her cloak. Golden static tickled her skin, warming the cool air around her.
She closed her eyes and let go. Mind blank. Emotions as empty as she could muster.
The world bent, light flared, and then she vanished into a golden fog.
