“I’m sorry,” her new friend said.
“Okay.”
Athas sat for a moment in thought. Then, the surprised look returned to her face and she bubbled, “Stay right here. I’ll be right back!” She then ran out of the room and down the hallway.
Maren waited at the table, letting her bread sit in front of her for a while before taking another bite. She slowly massaged her ear and thought about the things she would have liked to say to the woman who just told her that she had to leave. She was just about to rehearse her words out loud when she was startled by her friend’s enthusiastic return.
“I have something for you!” Athas proclaimed, running around the table to where she was seated.
“What is it?” Maren asked, swiveling her body around so she could see.
“I want you to have my old apron,” the girl said. “It’s still very nice, and will protect your dress.”
Maren tilted her head forward and let Athas slide the bib’s ribbon over her head. Looking down, she noticed that there were flowers embroidered on the steel-blue fabric. She reached down and gently touched them. “Squill,” she observed. “I like squill.”
“I want to fix your hair,” her friend said, producing a brush.
Maren didn’t know what to say. After all, her hair wasn’t broken. “Okay,” she said, deciding to let the girl have her way.
Athas waited for a moment, then finally instructed, “Well, turn around.”
“Oh, right,” she said, swinging herself around so her friend could reach all of her hair.
As Athas ran her hairbrush through the tangled nest of thick, dark hair, Maren winced. Each stroke felt as if the girl was pulling handfuls of hair out at the root. She wanted to yell and get away from the instrument of torture, but she sat as still as she could, clenching her jaw until her face turned red and her eyes began to water. To make matters worse, the sound of the brush combing through her hair was akin to what she imagined seals vomiting to be like. Finally, mercifully, it was over.
“Thank you,” Maren said through pursed lips, and she began to get down from her chair.
“Wait, I’m not done,” Athas pleaded.
Maren swallowed and slowly inched back to where she was on her chair, taking another bite of her bread along the way.
The young girl then took a section of hair above Maren’s temple and gently started to weave it. Unexpectedly, Maren enjoyed it and felt a sense of calm as the strands overlapped each other until they were one continuous braid. Athas then did the same on the opposite side of Maren’s head until the two braids were brought together. When she was done, she brought out a damp cloth and gently wiped Maren’s face clean. “There,” she said. “Would you like to have a look?”
“Uh huh,” Maren answered, moving her head back and forth. It felt strange to not feel hair on the sides of her neck, and there was a part of her that wondered if it felt this way to be bald.
“Here you go,” the girl said as she produced a hand mirror.
Maren held the ornate mirror’s handle and looked at her reflection with wonder. Still turning her head from side to side, she admired her friend’s work and thought she looked quite like a princess. “Retrieve my carriage,” she said, lifting her chin and experimenting with various courtly facial expressions.
Athas giggled and replied, “As you wish, your highness.”
Suddenly, there was a knock at the kitchen window and a very stern mother was standing there.
Maren quickly put the mirror down on the table and slowly put the remainder of her snack in her mouth.
“I guess it’s time to go,” her new friend said sadly.
“Okay,” Maren said through bread and jam. She then collected her bindle and walked toward the door.
As Athas accompanied her, she asked, “Can we play tomorrow?”
Maren shrugged her shoulders, gave her friend a quick, stiff hug, and headed out toward the road.
“Please draw me a bath,” Maren said aloud to herself. It’s what she imagined a princess would say to one of her servants. “And bring the tea to my bedchamber,” she added.
As she walked south along the road, she spoke to each farm animal, shrub, and cawing crow as if they were subjects in her expansive kingdom. Stopping along the path, she looked out over rolling hills and endless stacked stone walls, wondering what it would be like to have dominion over all that she saw. “Rejoice!” she called to the fields. “Her majesty is here.” Then, raising her voice to an authoritative bellow, she added, “And she is beautifully powerful!”
“Hello there,” a voice came from the road behind Maren.
Startled, she turned around, and all the poise and dignity she was carrying fell to the ground. Before her was a husky, bald man at the reins of a horse-drawn carriage. Both the man and the carriage looked to have accumulated many miles. “Yes?” she asked.
“I know that you’re in the middle of a grand speech and all,” the man said with an amused smile, “But I was wondering if you could move out of the middle of the road so that I could get through.”
Maren reached up and began to massage her ear. Looking at the man, but focusing mainly on his cleanly shorn scalp, she answered, “Okay,” and continued to stare.
The man waited for a moment, then finally burped, “Well?”
“Oh, yes,” she responded, and took small steps to the side of the road.
“Thank you!” the man hollered through his bushy, white mustache as he began to prod his horses onward. After inching forward a bit, he cocked his head and looked curiously at the girl. “Say, do you live here?” he asked.
Maren looked north, then south, and answered, “No.”
“Where do you live?”
“Laor,” she answered.
“That’s a long way from here,” the man said. “How did you get way out here?”
Maren didn’t want the man to know that she was
