May 20th, 1865 It’s been two nights since I heard the second gunshot and didn’t turn back. I’m starting to wonder if I should’ve checked again. Sunlight streams into the dining area through the large windows. I eat alone; my parents are busy ruling the country and its citizens. I wipe my mouth with my silk napkin, and stand up. The chair makes a terrible squeaking sound. I wince. A maid looked up from dusting, and I can tell the noise hurt her ears too. “I’m sorry,” I say. The maid bows politely. “No harm done, your highness.” I nod, and walk out into the corridor. Several ladies curtsey to me, and I return the gesture. The lords seem to take no notice to me, but I try not to mind. To them, I have no purpose. I’m just a young, rich woman who will eventually get married off to an even richer prince. This thought makes me angry. I stalk off, away from the men, not caring that they loudly comment on how noisily I walk. I enter my quarters, changing into a simple riding outfit. Father would be furious with me if he found out I sometimes wear the simple cotton pants, but I don’t care. I need a break from long, flowing dresses and corsets that squeeze the breath out of me. I find myself walking towards a small village away from the castle. It is a quaint little town, littered with tailors and blacksmiths alike. I tie my hair up in a bun, light brown streaks glinting in the sun. A couple of people recognize me, bowing and showering me with praise. I thank them and head on my way, hoping few more people will notice me. I smile at almost everyone in the street, waving cheerfully. A day like this brings a joyous mood into the air; I can feel it in the streets. Suddenly I hear yelling, a couple hundred feet away from me. I run towards it, my mind fearing the worst. A crowd has gathered by the yelling; two men are arguing. I try to push my way through the crowd, trying to stop this fight before it gets worse. A couple of men shove me back, muttering about something under their breaths. I glare at them suspiciously, and they recognize me, backing away. I bite my lip, prying my eyes away from them. The way those men looked at me… it was like they were scared. But why? I look back at the argument, attempting to force through the crowd again. This time people recognize me and let me through, whispering about the princess and what she was doing in the town square. I thrust myself in between the two men, preparing for the worst. Suddenly they stop, each of them in mid-sentence. They bow and apologize, looking as scared as the other men. I narrow my eyes at them, drawing a blank for why they could be so afraid. The crowd starts to dissipate; I begin to walk back home. Why could all those men be so afraid?
