A dish of apples was brought to the princesses’ litter by an unkempt shop owner. She laid it down on a pillow, smiled, and quickly retreated back into the crowd. The other two girls quickly picked the biggest ones. Khaless was always the last to choose, being the youngest. The only one that remained was small and lacking in hue.

“Curse Vheala for this apple. Why do I always get the rotten fruit?” She used her scarf to wipe away the dirt but it wouldn’t come off.

“You shouldn’t curse the gods, especially the bad ones.” Said Mara. “Such talk would bring misfortune and evil magic.”

“She could use a charming hex.” Muttered Solis under her breath.

Khaless had never felt this cold, especially in a city of such putrid humidity. Her mother would be at the head of the parade, tossing out flower petals and receiving the crowd’s adoration. The Queen Mother’s face couldn’t be ignored. Khaless pulled back the litter’s curtain and couldn’t help but see her face everywhere, adorned on banners and even the coins that were tossed into the carriage. One day her own face would be on these coins and currency would never be marked with such abhorrence.

The parade arrived at the courtyard of Al Faruq Fort. A banquet of gifts would await the Queen while the princesses exited their litter with the help of attendants. The guards in their beautifully crafted Torian armor protected them from the smelly peasants. Mara, the older of the three, spoke first, “You’d better hide that apple. They might think you’re as lacking as your sustenance.”

“Don’t worry, they won’t be looking at us. Mother is known for her significant far and wide. The heaving masses would gouge their eyes out just for one glimpse.” Spoke Solis with a smile.

Khaless look upon her mother with reverence but gave a bitter stare. So much to live up to and so much effort to get to her stature of grace and dominance. Khaless wasn’t often chosen for these public events but the arrival of the Mystic Shamans of Kamora had to be celebrated and their fealty shown without delegation.

The two girls stared at Khaless, probably gawking at her rounded belly. Their stares were poisonous. Simply being around her made the other two less appealing. She wondered why her mother showered her with so many gifts at a young age. It showed her that she was owned by heritage of her lineage. Something she was afraid she wouldn’t live up to.

Everything had been a cruel joke, even the apple. Her chance to be something other than what her mother expected was fading. Make up and jewelry could only hide so much. She pulled the shawl over her head. Out in the courtyard she felt exposed and vulnerable to narrow glances. As she entered the vestibule of the palace, with Mara and Solis walking ahead, she removed her scarf. If they could have only entered through a side hall, she might feel less bloated and exposed.

“Good day, Princess Khaless. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” A robed man, seemingly covered in twigs and pagan symbols, was standing at the entrance to the great hall. She nearly held her nose. He continued, however less enthusiastically, “We have traveled far. It is nice to gaze upon such a fair lady of sovereign descent.”

The princess (she was rarely apt to call herself that) blinked with a furled brow. She stepped back in an untrusting fashion. The shaman put out his hands in a calming gesture. “We are a free people and mean no harm to the queen or her sacred offspring. If there is anything that we hold most dear it is the charity and wellbeing of this great nation.”

“I wish I could be free.” Khaless was looking down. She didn’t know why she said it. She probably meant to keep it to herself.

The man followed her gaze and then turned towards the great hall’s altar. “Do you forgive your sisters? For being so cold? You shouldn’t blame them. After all they have the same vigor and ambition that all royalty share.”

She could only speak truthfully, there was a sense of ease about the man. “Why must we always be born in our bodies? Why can’t we choose?”

“This, I’m afraid, I cannot answer. Our spells and potions cannot heal all the worlds ills. Tell me, dear princess, what is that you really seek? How can the Mystics aid the royal family? I will do my part as best I can.”

Without hesitation she said, “I want my mother to look at me like she looks on a peaceful glade or a field of lilies. I want to be the most beautiful creation, a thing to be desired, a thing to that all others aspire to be.”

“That is a significant wish indeed. But we are the caretakers to the mystical realms. Ah, of course.” The man pulled an object from his robe. It appeared to be a doll made of twigs. Khaless moved back seeing the hideous figure. “This is a scabous talisman recently discovered in the deep mines of Arakia. It is said to grant wishes to those who put it under their pillow as you sleep. On this day of celebration, I’m sure the mystics would appreciate the gifting of a treasure to one of such renowned kin.”

She reached out a hand and almost didn’t take it but she was conditioned to refuse anything that was given for free. “Will it make me beautiful?”

The doll left the man’s hand as she took it and placed it in her pocket. The man smiled, “I’m sure it can do wondrous things. In our faith you can do anything if you simply believe.”

She scoffed at this but didn’t want to sound rude. “I’m sure. Your gift is agreeable. I will make sure the queen is made aware of your generosity.”

She bowed and left him. He wasn’t exactly a charmer himself. Desperately, she hoped that mother wouldn’t marry her to someone like him. No amount of magic and spells could change that.

That night, after the drawn-out ceremonies and awkward banquet, she put the doll under her pillow, adding some lavender to mask the odor. As she lay her head down, she concentrated on what she had told the mystic, about her dream of being the most beautiful creation.

She fell into a deep sleep; her last thoughts were filled with long flowing gowns and a skinny frame to fit it. Everyone was looking on her with reverence and envy. A raven came to her as she drifted away, cawing, and flapping its wings.

She awoke with a bitter taste in her mouth. Groggy and dizzy she found the doll had gone missing. The pillow she tossed to the side and quickly dressed in a gown. She didn’t feel any different but when she approached the mirror she frowned. Reflected back was the same visage she had always known, plump with dark rings around her eyes. She should have guessed the mystic’s magic was a sham.

As she quickly flung open the door and cursed, she was met with a putrid aroma. The servants were shuffling down the halls, more hunched over than Khaless remembered. Her eyes met the banners that hung from the rafters. This must’ve been some sort of trick. The face and insignia were replaced by a horrible hag with jagged teeth and ugly symbols.

The walls had also changed. What was once a vibrant chamber of colors and paintings were now filled with crumbling, old wood and smeared drawings. Nothing was quite what it seemed. It was as if she were in another world.

She followed the horrible smells to a basket at the northeast side of the palace where flowers were normally but contained within was a collection of weeds. This is a dream, she told herself, a frightening dream that felt so real. The cool air from the entrance way was harsh. She tightened her shawl and walked through the vestibule. In the courtyard there were more grotesque sights. The sky was a marble gray and the noblemen who roamed were no better in appearance than peasants. It was as if all the light in the world had gone out. Everything was either black, brown, or gray.

A guard approached and greeted her. She nearly leapt out of her skin when she saw his face. He nodded with a crooked smile and crooked teeth. His eyes were uneven, his pupils were each a different shape. As he passed, in a wobbly gait, she found it difficult to continue. Through the gates of the palace there were even worse, loathsome creatures going about their daily lives in even more abject poverty than the day before.

Curiosity drove her to the gate’s edge. They appeared more like worms dressed in rags than leprous villagers. They waved their scaly appendages as she walked through the streets, attempting to greet her with gaping maws. The swirling miasma of hanging meat and rotten food made her feel impaired as if she had been drugged. What else would explain the nausea that drove her to cover her mouth?

She was taught not to stare at the impoverished or disfigured but they surrounded her. They were hideous, shuffling and squirming through Muezene Street, even the horses were distorted versions of themselves, appearing more like misshapen mules. But she couldn’t help feel guilty when she saw the huddled masses trying to subsist on putrid fruit and fly covered meat.

Nothing in her sheltered life could have prepared her for this. What appeared to be a small child was wobbling up to her. The terrible worm reached out a single appendage, offering a lifeless branch. Khaless gasped and choked back a scream. As the thing came closer, she bolted and ran back towards the palace gates, closing her eyes the whole way. This was not her wish; this was not her dream existence. Everything was wrong, everything was horrible and sickening. If only she had wished to be happy instead of pretty. She would rather be ugly than witness a world full of ugliness. She would rather be anywhere else than the place she previously adored. Though her heart and mind were the same the vision, the perception of herself, had changed.

She didn’t want to see anymore and quickly rushed to her bedroom and locked the door, panting with hands pulling at her gown. It was then that she found the apple. It was the same apple with a darker hue. She threw it against the table where it split upon the corner. Falling to the floor the apple was cut down the middle. She nearly wept when she took note of the ripeness within. The apple’s skin appeared to be decaying but inside it was just as ripe as any other. She picked it up and took a bite. The sweetness was overwhelming. And she finally understood that the world she perceived was not as cold as it appeared to be. In that moment she cried and cried, giving in to the fate that she brought upon herself.