Shara raced through the white marble halls that gave the White Palace its name. She still wore her black silk pajamas and old pink slippers even though it was almost midday. Her long auburn hair streamed behind her as she ran. Her best friend, Sarafin, squealed with delight as she tried to keep up. Soon they would reach her father’s mosaic room. The entire floor was covered in bright, smooth ceramic tile. Her favorite pink slippers had long ago lost the rough bottom that her new ones had. That made them perfect for her favorite game, skating.
She hit the mosaic floor at full speed and slid into a graceful glide. Her arms extended to the side and, balanced on one foot, she coasted three-quarters of the way across the floor before running out of momentum.
She smiled as she held the pose. Shara still remembered the day six years ago when her history tutor had shown her the picture of northmen sliding across the ice balanced on a single steel blade mounted on their boots. There was no question in her mind that she had to try it. Pity ice didn’t form in the desert. Sliding on the mosaic was the best she could manage.
Reality came hurtling back as she heard Sarafin approaching. Her friend hit the tile and tried to imitate Shara’s graceful glide. Unfortunately Sarafin weighed about fifty pounds more than Shara and had the dexterity of a three-legged donkey.
It took only a moment for her to fall on her ample stomach, completely out of control. Shara groaned as she realized Sarafin was headed right toward her. An instant later Shara found herself sprawled across Sarafin’s back and riding her friend like a camel for another ten feet. They finally stopped just short of the rear wall.
The two girls laughed for a moment then Sarafin said, “Heaven’s mercy, I’m going to miss this, Shar.”
Shara sighed and rolled off her friend. Sarafin was almost two years Shara’s junior but she had already gotten engaged. Soon she’d leave the palace where the two of them had grown up like sisters and start a new life with her husband-to-be.
Sarafin’s parents had arranged the marriage to seal a trade agreement. Shara had seen the fat old merchant in court a few times. He wheezed just climbing the steps to the throne room. “You deserve better, Sara.”
Sarafin held up her hand to forestall Shara’s argument. “I’m the youngest daughter of a minor noble family. An arranged marriage was my destiny. Besides, I’m homely as a mule. No prince is going to come sweep me off my feet.”
Shara hopped up. She loved Sarafin like a sister, but had to admit her friend had a point. The two girls couldn’t have looked more different. Shara was tall and slim with shoulder-length auburn hair. Sarafin was round and short with black hair and dark eyes that couldn’t see ten feet in front of her. Roly-poly, her father had called Sarafin. The word seemed apt.
“It’s lunch time, isn’t it, Shar?”
Shara grinned. The next meal was ever on Sarafin’s mind. “I’m the princess, my dear. Lunch is whenever I wish it.”
Sarafin giggled at Shara’s imitation of the noble ladies that inhabited the palace like sand fleas in a beggar’s hovel. “I’d better get dressed first,” Shara said. “Father would have a fit if he knew I spent the whole morning in my night clothes.”
They walked back through the gleaming halls toward Shara’s room. When they arrived she waved aside the stone soldier standing in front of her door. The golem took two steps to the left so she could reach the gold-inlaid door. As soon as she closed it she heard the heavy steps of the golem returning to its post.
Shara stripped off her pajamas and tossed them toward the bed. They stopped in midair about three feet from her target. The clothes flew toward the far wall where they vanished as her invisible servant passed through the wall on its way to the laundry. Shara walked over to her closet and regarded the many beautiful garments hanging there. After a moment’s deliberation she selected a pair of billowy white pants and a sapphire top that revealed her flat midriff. She finished it off with a platinum tiara her father had gotten for her a few years ago.
She spun in a circle. “How do I look?”
Sarafin had sprawled on her huge feather bed. She sat up and smiled. “Beautiful as always, Shar. It’s bad enough the men have to look at you every day without teasing them with a top like that.”
Shara leapt through the air, spun a full flip, and landed on the bed beside Sarafin. “You know Father would never let me dress like this. He’s due home tomorrow so this is my last chance.”
“Don’t forget what happened two years ago.”
Shara lay back and sighed. How could she forget?
Two years ago, a few days after her sixteenth birthday, she had gone for a walk in the garden dressed much as she was now. A handsome young nobleman, about a year her senior, spotted her. Thinking she was out looking for a tryst he’d hurried over, eager to oblige.
Unfortunately for him, he’d gotten a little overeager and grabbed her arm. A stone soldier appeared a moment later—there always seemed to be one of those things nearby. Before she could stop it the golem ripped the young man’s arm off. It took all the skill and magic of the palace healers to reattach it. The story soon spread through the palace and now most men wouldn’t even look at her.
“I remember, Sarafin, don’t worry. I doubt anyone would be foolish enough to try a stunt like that again.”
They left Shara’s room and headed downstairs. A sweeping white marble staircase led to the main hall. The kitchens were situated in the rear of the palace so the hustle and bustle wouldn’t bother the nobles.
At the base of the stairs the two honor guards snapped to attention at the princess’s approach. Shara noticed one of the guards, a young man new to the post, watching her from the corner of his eye. She winked to let him know she’d seen him. He immediately looked away. Shara smiled a sad little smile and turned toward the kitchen before Sarafin decided to go cannibal on her.