Meg hurried out the servants’ entrance in the castle kitchen with a rucksack filled with ultra-sugary sweet rolls. She probably should have taken something hearty or healthy, but she didn’t have time to nitpick apples versus potatoes and the sweets were just too tempting.
Dressed as a servant girl, she moved seemingly-unnoticed through the lower bailey, where the castle market had been set up for the day. This was the best route to go for a sudden ‘ex-Princess’ trying to escape the Royal Tyrants, otherwise known as her parents, the King and Queen of Tanopolis. Blending with the crowd, she slipped in and out of the gathering peasants, courtiers, chickens (which there seemed to be an abundance of lately), vendors, shoppers, Knights, guards, children, and basically all the other randoms that made up the castle’s population. Not a soul in the crowd recognized her.
Beyond the fancy gowns and shiny jewels, she didn’t think she had the look of a Princess anyway. Princesses were supposed to be beautiful and shapely, with golden tendrils and enchanting eyes. Meg was shaped like a fence post with dull straw-like hair and stubborn green eyes that contained a spark of mischievousness-, something her father disapproved. And Princesses were supposed to have graceful, historical names like Victoria, Isabella, or even Mary Elizabeth. Not Nutmeg Herbina Spiccea Frank Tanopolis. It was an awful name. Not just the Spiccea or the Herbina, or even the Frank… it was the Nut in Nutmeg that drove her mad.
Why would any parent name their child Nutmeg? First, the puns, “You’re so nutty, Nutmeg.” Or, “All Princesses are pretty, but Not-meg.” And who can forget the insults? “There goes Princess Nutbrain.” Of course no one ever said these things to Meg’s face, but that didn’t mean she lacked ears. In fact, she was born with two great ears that alerted her every time someone decided to use her full name, insult or no. And, as most people quickly found out, Meg had a great right hook too.
Although she had the worst full name in her family by far, she wasn’t alone. Every generation stemming from Meg’s great, great grandmother was to have a spice or herb for their first name, and all were to have Frank present somewhere within their selection of middle names. Meg didn’t know the whole story as to why such stipulations were made; she was only told that her bossy Queen of a great, great grandmother had crossed paths with a grumpy Fairy named Frank and a whole lot of wallabaloo had broken loose.
Meg was glad she wasn’t a royal anymore. Now that she was leaving her life as a Princess she could make up her own identity. No more Nutmeg, just Meg. No more fence-post parading as a Princess. No more Fairy-snubbing family. No more people telling her how to live her life, when to do what, who to go where- and all without an explanation as to why. She could be what she wanted to be and not have to answer to anyone, especially her parents and whatever madness they had contracted in the past few weeks.
Meg sighed as she came to the old, abandoned stable built into the furthest part of the outer wall surrounding the castle. Before sliding the heavy wood door open, she reached into her rucksack and retracted a book of richly bound leather. Her initials were embroidered with spun gold below a golden crest signifying her bloodline. The journal was a present for her sixteenth birthday and she had received it earlier that morning. It was hand-made by the only two people left in the castle who cared anything about her—her brother, Thyme, and her best friend, Telly. Thyme had worked the leather, cut the paper, and made the crest, while Telly had sewn in the pages and added the initials.
For a moment Meg’s heart stilled. She hugged the journal to her chest and shut her eyes. She was leaving Telly, Thyme, her five-year-old twin sisters, and the rest of her family without saying goodbye. She was abandoning her life, the only one she had ever known. The castle was her entire world. And, even though they had become cruel and tyrannical, a part of her would miss her parents, not as they had been recently, but the way they were when they loved her….
Her thoughts tumbled into holidays and birthdays past, of happy times and a healthy family. She thought of the reassuring promises her mother always provided when Meg doubted her future. She remembered the soft expressions her father would give her when he believed she wasn’t looking.
It wasn’t long before her fond memories were interrupted by the vision she had seen earlier that day; the one that forced her decision to leave; the one that would have ruined her life! Whatever fondness she momentarily had for her parents and her past was quickly dismissed, replaced by the dull, empty hurt of a loved-ones betrayal.
Meg would be forever grateful for having the Fairy, Lara, for a cousin, even if she was slightly eccentric. If Lara hadn’t sent that package when she did, Meg would have found out too late what her parents had in store. Telly and Thyme would understand once they knew too. It was time to go and nothing was going to stop her.
With a firm nod of her head, she tore the first page from the journal. Forcing a hole in the paper, she hung it nail protruding from the door.
“Well… That’s that,” she said aloud, nodding at the note. Without looking back, she slipped into the darkness of the stable, where at the very back was the only unguarded door leading to the world beyond the wall.
