Free Violet Eyes by Debbie Viguié

around her. When she had first arrived, her thoughts had been consumed with her task, and she hadn’t taken a close look at her surroundings. Without guests streaming down it, the empty staircase was wide enough that Violet could lie down flat on a stair and still leave enough room for people to walk up on either side of her. The dark wood seemed to glow in the light from all the candles and torches that adorned it.
    At the top of the staircase Violet saw three long corridors, in addition to the one that led to her room, dimly lit by candlelight. She stood for a moment, peering down each of them and breathlessly wondering which one led to Richard’s bedroom.
    Genevieve cleared her throat to politely get Violet’s attention and started walking toward their room. Violet dropped her eyes to the stone floor and hurried down the hall after her.
    Back in their room Genevieve collapsed in the chair she had been sitting in earlier. “So what did you think of our competition?” she asked.
    Violet immediately thought of Celeste, and she felt anger rushing through her. It wasn’t right that she was there competing. Competing as if nothing had happened, as if her family hadn’t slaughtered Cambria’s royal family. No, not just the royal family, Violet reminded herself. My family.
    “Is something wrong?” Genevieve asked, concerned.
    Violet shook her head and glanced down at her hands. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her fingernails were cutting into her palms. She forced her muscles to relax, and she did her best to put Celeste from her thoughts. After all, it was the girl’s parents who were to blame for the past, not the girl herself.
    Violet took a deep breath and thought about the other princesses she had met at the table. “They all looked very beautiful and seemed quite pleasant.”
    Genevieve stared at her for a moment and then giggled. “They’re princesses. Of course they were.”
    “So, I guess all princesses are beautiful?”
    Genevieve giggled harder. “No.”
    Violet stared at her, confused. “But you just said—”
    “You commented that they all looked beautiful. That’s true, but it doesn’t mean they are. With skilled help even the plainest person can be beautiful.”
    “Really?” Violet asked, her eyes widening at the thought.
    “Really. Although, clearly, that’s something you’ve never had to worry about.”
    “Where I come from, how I looked was not important,” Violet said.
    “We should all be so lucky,” Genevieve said.
    “I think you’re teasing,” Violet said.
    Genevieve shook her head. “Do you remember the girl sitting across from you?”
    “Yes?”
    “She had a wart on her chin.”
    “No!”
    “Yes. And the girl across from me—”
    “You mean the one with the brilliant white teeth?”
    “I mean the one with the brilliant fake white teeth.”
    Violet gasped.
    “The girl with the red hair that was so perfect it almost didn’t seem real—wig.”
    Violet sat down on her bed and began to laugh until tears streamed down her face. It felt good to laugh. There had been so much darkness, so much sorrow lately, that finding something to laugh about was a relief. “Okay, what about Celeste? What’s she hiding?” Violet finally gasped.
    Genevieve’s smile faded. “A cold, mean heart.”
    Violet stopped laughing. “Are you sure?”
    “Yes. I can read people. It is something of a gift. Her physical beauty is genuine enough, but her spirit is another matter.”
    Violet shuddered. Celeste was the daughter of people who had had an entire family killed in their sleep. To expect her to be a warm, caring person would be to expect an apple tree to produce oranges.
    “We probably should get some sleep,” Genevieve said.
    “Yes,” Violet said, realizing for the first time how exhausted she was.
    She turned to look at her bed and wondered fora moment if she would even be able to sleep in it. It was incredibly soft, much more so than what she was used to. It stood several