Chapter 2

“Hello?” she shouted.

Standing beside Solange was her faithful horse whose name she had just discovered was Stedman. Stedman the swift, Stedman the brave, Stedman the magnificent. He had suggested all of these, but Solange convinced him that just plain Stedman might make him appear a little less arrogant.

“Hello?” she repeated. “I say, is anybody there? I thought I saw a girl in a white dressing gown being dragged this way against her will.” Solange paced for a moment, waiting for an answer. Hearing none, she tried again. “Hello? Is there anyone in need of rescue? I’ve got a fast horse.”

Stedman pawed at the ground and whinnied.

“He says he’s very gentle and won’t jounce you around like other horses. His name is Stedman.”

“Go away you noisy peasant! And take Stedman with you,” yelled Lingonberry from atop the tower. “I wish to be rescued by a prince, not by some loony commoner who fancies she can speak to animals. So if it’s quite alright with you, I’ll sit tight and wait for a proper rescue.”

“Very well, suit yourself.” Solange turned to her horse and said in a voice loud enough that surely even the grumpy woman in the tower could hear. “Let’s go get some more apples, Stedman. We’ll come back later and see if Miss Prissy Pants has changed her mind.”

“I am not a prissy pants!” came another shout from the tower. “I am a princess and I am fit to be rescued only by royalty, not by — by commoners!”

Solange cupped her hands around her mouth and lifted her head toward the top of the tower. “I’m a princess if that helps.” She watched as a small white face framed by a mop of blonde hair appeared at the window.

“Uggh! You can’t be a princess. You dress like a pageboy, and you have the hair of a woodland pixie.” Princess Lingonberry shouted, her frowning visage now jutting from the window above. “And besides, you’re — you’re dark!”

“Technically mulatto, but I find the term offensive, so how about you just call me Solange, OK?” She paced a moment more before deciding that honor dictated that she at least try to rescue this princess in the tower, no matter how foul-tongued and off-putting she might be.

“Listen sister, I don’t see any princes around here, do you? So unless you’re happy up there, maybe you could find it in your heart to let me rescue you, OK? Maybe? Just this once?”

“Fine. You can rescue me.”

“Great.” Princess Solange began pacing again. “OK listen, I wasn’t really planning on rescuing anyone when I set out this morning. You don’t happen to have a rope or something so I can climb up, do you?”

“How long is your hair?”

“What’s my hair got to do with anything?”

“Never mind. I’ll think of something.”

Princess Solange paced some more. She walked up to the tower door, but as she suspected, the portcullis was lowered and locked into place from the inside. Solange continued pacing around the tower when she noticed some vines. It looked risky, but she took a chance.

A tiny window, high atop the tower

“Hi, I’m Solange, and I’m here to rescue you,” gasped the princess leaning over the window sill, feet pedaling in the air behind her in an attempt to find purchase. Finding none, she grimaced. “It was a long and perilous climb, so perhaps you could help me out a little.” She thrust her hand through the window.

Princess Lingonberry took the long slender mocha-colored hand that was sticking through the opening and pulled. Along with the hand came the long and lean body of a woman dressed in jodhpurs and a puffy white blouse. She was dusty and her short hair was somewhat disheveled, but otherwise she seemed unharmed.

“Princess Solange at your service, my lady.”

Princess Lingonberry stared at the woman. She did not appear to be wearing a corset, or any type of undergarment for that matter, and Lingonberry found her gaze wandering to the dusky nipples that were pressing up through the thin white fabric.

“Um, I’m in now. You can let go of my hand.”

“Huh?” Princess Lingonberry blushed. “Oh yes. Of course.”

“Are you alright? You haven’t been poisoned or anything have you? You seem a little — I don’t know — a little off.”

“No, no — I’m fine.” Princess Lingonberry let out a long sigh and swooned.

Princess Solange caught her mid-faint with just enough time to lower her gently to the floor. “Maybe you should rest awhile.”

Lingonberry reached out with a shaking hand and touched a finger gently to Solange’s cheek, slowly tracing a line downward to her chin. “You’re much softer than I expected. You really are a princess. I mean — well, with the distance and all …”

“You should rest, I think you’re …”

But Princess Solange did not get a chance to finish. Princess Lingonberry was attacking her lips with determination, and she had her hand tucked behind Solange’s head to ensure that she could not escape. Not that Solange really minded, though she was surprised by the woman’s sudden change of heart.

“Yes, much softer,” Princess Lingonberry cooed, “and much prettier too. I shall let you proceed with your rescuing of me.”

Princess Solange stood up suddenly, leaving Lingonberry leaning against the wall like a worn out rag doll. “Excuse me? You’ll let me rescue you? You’ll — Let — Me? In case you hadn’t noticed, sister, Stedman and I were doing just fine on our own …”

“Oh yes, the one who promised not to jounce me around.” Princess Lingonberry hoisted herself to her feet and dusted off her dressing gown. “Yes, you may take me to him so that we may ride off together. I’m sorry, I hadn’t realized you were a princess and that you talk to animals as I do. Honestly, I had assumed that you were not quite right in the head.”

Solange shook her head and began to wonder what kind of madness she had stumbled into.

“But now that I know you are of royal blood, I shall permit you to spirit me away on your swift steed so that we may be wed in the great hall of my parent’s castle.” Princess Lingonberry threw her arms around Solange and began covering her face in kisses. “The ceremony is this evening, so we must hurry.”

Princess Solange stared into the eyes of the raving princess who had just released her from a decidedly lecherous embrace. Solange decided she liked Lingonberry an awful lot more when she was swooning and unable to carry on a conversation, but knocking her over the head with a rock seemed decidedly uncivilized.

“Listen, I’ll rescue you, but marriage is out of the question. I mean, I just met you for goodness sake!”

“Lingonberry?” came Luna’s voice from below. “Lingonberry, what’s going on up there?”

“Uggh. It’s my evil step-auntie.” Princess Lingonberry groaned. “She wants to keep me locked up in this dreary tower for a whole year. Can you believe it? And all because she loaned my mom some money or something. So please. Please, I beg of you, get me out of here.”

“Fine, but no marriage.” Solange leaned in so that her lips were only a short distance from Princess Lingonberry’s ear. “OK, here’s the plan.”

Princess Lingonberry nodded politely, but she was much more interested in the tickling sensation of Solange’s warm breath on her neck, and was soon unable to recall any more than half of what was being said.

“Mom, Dad, I’m sorry I ran off earlier.” Princess Solange stood before her parents at the castle gate. The sun was nearly at the horizon and it cast a beautiful golden light, making the castle look even warmer and more inviting than usual.

At Solange’s prodding, Princess Lingonberry stepped forward, but kept her gaze fixed at her feet.

“This is Princess Lingonberry. I just rescued her from the clutches of her evil step-mother.”

“Step-auntie,” Lingonberry whispered, looking at the ground.

“Oh, honey.” The queen stepped forward and placed her finger under Lingonberry’s chin, raising her gaze. “She’s just adorable. When is the wedding?”

“Darling,” the king said. “Perhaps they are not yet ready to be married. She did just rescue the girl this afternoon.”

Princess Solange expelled the breath she was holding. “Thank you, Dad,” she thought to herself.

“Give them a week, then we’ll call the caterers to discuss the menu. I’m thinking roast boar. The kind with the little apples in their mouths. I do so love a good barbecue.”

“Oh and flowers,” the queen put in, “we mustn’t forget the flowers. There’s this little shop in the village …”

“Mom! Dad!” Solange stood with her hands on her hips. “We are not getting married. Princess Lingonberry just needs a place to lay low for a while. You know because of her evil step-mother situation and all.”

“Alright dear. I’ll ask the chambermaid to change the linens on your bed. I assume you’ll want the silk sheets for your special night.” The queen turned to her daughter and winked.

“Mom. The guest room, OK? We’ve got like twenty of them. Let’s put one to use. Maybe something way down the hall from my room. As far away as possible actually.”

“I understand, dear. It’s bound to be much more exciting when it seems like it’s forbidden. Two young lovers, separated by vast distance, only to find their way into each others arms. Oh, it reminds me of a poem your father once wrote to me …”

“Yes, dear. No need to be testy.”

Princess Solange’s bed chamber

Princess Solange slipped out of her dressing gown and climbed between the sheets of her large four-poster bed. The silk felt luxurious against her bare skin. Her mother had directed the chambermaid put on the silk sheets anyway, against Solange’s insistence that this was absolutely, in no way going to be a special night.

“I don’t know what she thinks is going to happen,” Solange thought as she snuggled in. “That loony woman is all the way at the other end of the hall. And there’s no way I’m going to …”

Solange’s thought was interrupted by a small knock at her bedroom door. “Ah, the chambermaid,” she thought, “here to turn down the covers for me.”

“It’s alright Macy, I’ve already done it myself. I’ll tell mother that you did it splendidly, OK?”

Solange heard the doorknob turn and the hinges creak ever so softly as the big, heavy oaken door was slowly pushed inward. Princess Solange sat upright, clutching the bed covers to her bosom. “Macy, it’s fine, I …” Solange fell back, letting her head flop onto the pillow as Lingonberry’s face appeared. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want?”

“I — I got frightened.” Princess Lingonberry stood at the foot of Solange’s bed, her long blonde hair flowing over the thin plum-colored gown that was tied loosely about her waist. She was staring at the floor, kicking at the large Persian rug with her toe. “It’s such a big castle — much bigger than my family’s home — and it’s all so unfamiliar.”

“Fine,” Solange huffed. “But this doesn’t mean we’re getting married. I don’t care if you do have my parents duped.”

“I just need some comfort, that’s all.” Princess Lingonberry let the dressing gown fall into a puddle at her feet and stepped forward. In the moonlight streaming through the window, Solange realized for the first time just how lovely was this princess that she had rescued.

Solange let her gaze wander. The fullness of her lips. The graceful line of her neck. The magnificent swell of her bosom. The graceful curve of her hips and her long lean thighs. And during that lingering gaze, a thought intruded into Princess Solange’s mind. She began to wonder what it would feel like to have this woman pressed up against her. Just for tonight.

Princess Solange lifted the bed covers with one hand and gave a come-hither gesture with the finger of her other. Princess Lingonberry tiptoed over and slid between the sheets.

“Silk. Very nice,” Lingonberry remarked.