For Purple's Taste

by Janette Cole

The crown bit into her head, tighter and more painful than she ever imagined. In fact, she had never imagined it would be painful, or tight. She'd imagined it would sit lightly on her brow, just another fashion accessory that glittered prettily.

She'd waited many years for this day. She'd done things no one would have suspected such a quiet, sweet girl to be capable of. She'd plotted and planned and pushed, all behind a cloak of secrecy so dark that even she was dizzied by the implications.

And now. Now she wasn't so sure she even wanted the prize. The crown had sharp teeth. No one had told her that. No one had told her the crown's hidden barbs required her blood. She could feel the gold spikes pushing through her hair, digging deep for her tender scalp.

No one had told her the heavy purple lining of the gold cape was anything more than mere decoration. They had waited until just a few minutes ago to explain the symbolic implications. The purple represented royalty, but it was not a just a pretty, rich color. It wasn't just because the purple dyes were so rare and hard to come by. The purple was the color of sacrifice. She was not a queen. She was a sacrifice.

She'd heard the concept before, of course. Her mother had often called herself the sacrifice of the nation. Aleeyah had never listened, or understood. Her heart was too full of jealousy and bitterness. She looked but did not see the truth of things. Instead, she saw her mother as cold and harsh. She never imagined her mother sat upon the throne day after day with the gold spikes of pain eating through her elaborate high hair. She never imagined her mother had to answer for her actions, that her mother considered the feelings of anyone other than herself.

Her mother, the queen. Or rather, the previous queen, who had fled the country in shame, hands covering the growing bulge that wasn't the result of her dead husband's attentions.

Aleeyah was young still, the counselors whispered. She'd never make a proper sacrifice. She didn't have the strength of spirit to do what was necessary.

"What had happened to Queen Lilliana? Where could she have gone? Why would she leave us?" they whispered in the dining hall and scullery, in the highest chambers and lowest corners. The city buzzed with the question. She'd simply disappeared and left her seal on a document that passed control of the kingdom to her untried sixteen year old daughter.

Aleeyah knew exactly how it happened, though none of the inhabitants of the castle would ever have believed the nefarious truth.

It had all started when Aleeyah was a wee little toddler. The custom of the country dictated that all royal children learn about the true people of the land. A screaming, kicking Aleeyah had been heartlessly cast out of the castle and given over to a rural peasant family to raise as their own.

They all say toddlers don't have memories, but Aleeyah remembered it all very clearly. The dirty, fat hands of her new mum held her tight, squeezing into her tender baby fat. Her real mother, her former mother, didn't even shed a tear. She just flared her nostrils and stood with her teeth clenched then turned away and walked back into the castle. She never even came to visit. Not at first at least. Aleeyah wanted to work up her hot hatred by pretending later visits didn't happen, but that would be too much of a lie. Her mother did come, but she was always distant.

Life with the Coopers was not horrible, or at least an ordinary child wouldn't have found it so. There was much love and laughter, much feasting and merriment. An ordinary child would have thrived, while learning about the common people of the kingdom. From the beginning Aleeyah knew she wasn't an ordinary child. Her friend from the castle, the only counselor who ever visited her, made sure she knew she wasn't ordinary. Mysterious dreams made certain of it.

Many a young child has dreamed of finding out they are adopted. They long to discover wealthy, powerful biological parents who will sweep them up in their arms one day and shower them with love, affection, and wealth. Aleeyah didn't have to dream about it. She knew it was true. She knew her parents were denying her everything that was rightfully hers. Mysterious dreams confirmed it. They sent her tutors and horses, simple clothing and simple food. They didn't send her jewels or money. They didn't send her ball gowns. As Aleeyah grew, she became obsessed with stories of privilege and keenly felt every missed opportunity.

On her fourteenth birthday, Aleeyah was recalled to court. She was finally given a dress befitting her station. It sparkled with diamonds encrusted in a webbing over a wash of pale blue silk. A single diamond was hung from her neck and shone with the light of a thousand suns. Queen Lilliana wept to see her daughter taking her place in the world, but Aleeyah didn't see it. Aleeyah just saw everything she'd been missing and the bitterness grew in her heart.

Evil seeks out evil. Bitterness finds bitterness.

Evil came to Aleeyah in the form of an old, gnarled, former counselor. He'd been relieved of his duties after a particularly vehement disagreement involving talk of war. He was for it, of course.

He alone saw through Aleeyah's act of quiet sweetness. He alone saw the depths of rage that burned beneath her innocent exterior. He had stoked the flames for years, after all.

If she'd had more experience she would have seen him for what he was. If she had more experience she would have seen that her mother had scarified everything when she reluctantly handed her daughter over to the Coopers. If Aleeyah had had more compassion she would have understood the smallest modicum of love that passed between her parents.

But she didn't. She was young and gullible, a dissatisfied youth who reveled in the venomous words Master Dybbuk poured into her willing ears.

A hunting accident killed her father a short time later. Lilliana's grief was tangible. It didn't sway Aleeyah in her plans. She silently laughed the laugh of bitter old hags, not young, sweet princesses. She may have been young and naïve but she was an excellent actress. Everyone remarked on her grief and tried to comfort her the best they knew how.

"So, so sad," they whispered. "Separated from her family for years, only to have this happen?"

She lapped up the attention and carried on with her carefully-laid plans. Master Dybbuk had helped her. He'd done more of the work than she had. He knew of potions and wizards. He knew of magic. He knew people who would do unimaginable things. He would force Lilliana to leave the throne in shame, opening the way for his puppet Aleeyah.

And it worked. Oh, how well it worked. Lilliana didn't understand what had happened. She had lost herself in pain-numbing potions after the death of her beloved Ricardo. She didn't remember any indiscretions but the proof was silently growing in her belly, mocking her and her cheap brand of love.

Ashamed, horrified, crazed with grief, she had run away just as Master Dybbuk had said she would. Aleeyah had her heart's desire. She was a young queen now. No one could ever force her to obey again. No one could ever deny her those things she was born to have. No one could ever treat her with anything but the respect she deserved.

She slowly walked out of the vestibule to the throne. Her feet were cramped in the beautiful glass slippers that all queens traditionally wore on this day. Her shoulders ached from the weight of the heavy purple and gold cape. Her eyes watered from the pain of the biting teeth upon her head. The counselors had pushed and prodded. Her maids had pushed and prodded. Everyone had pushed and prodded and she hadn't got to do a single thing she wanted to do. She was a dressed-up doll in clothes of everyone else's choosing.