Zaida did not expect to enjoy being an imposter among the royals. Her gown wasn’t as expensive as the princess steadying herself on wobbly feet against the pirate. Not custom made and hand tailored like the German’s, but a careful trade made in Casablanca’s new medina. Black lace, fitted bodice, and a long skirt Zaida constantly hiked up the side of to move quickly when needed.
She would be disposing of it as soon as she did the same with the red haired princess. She was pretty, her lips pouted sweetly over a horse. Zaida would have thought Olivia had an entire stable, whatever she desired. Like the little girl who lived in the estate her mother temporarily worked for, when Zaida was a child. The pirate remembered vividly snooping through the girl’s closet and seeing the riding gear– blazer, white shirt, funny pants. The magnificent boots a few sizes too big for Zaida. The velvet hat fit perfectly and lived under Zaida’s bed for a week before her mother discovered it.
Zaida hadn’t been embarrassed to return it, but she did hold a grudge against her mother for months. The little girl had dozens of the ridiculous hats.
She brushed the hair away from Olivia’s cheek. Crimson curls, irresistibly soft. Zaida gave a reassuring pat to Olivia’s hand hanging on Zaida’s arm. “He is beautiful. A golden horse. I’ve never seen anything like him… and he liked you.” The drunken princess wanted to feed the horse, and Zaida had weaved her fingers between those of Olivia to lead her to the catering tent. Even half-lidded and more than tipsy, the princess had carefully selected what to feed the animal. “I can see why he is a rare one.”
“Your brother doesn’t provide an allowance? My family does. Maybe this is their way of keeping me occupied. Otherwise, I get into trouble.” A laugh bubbled over. Mischievous, full of lies, but how fun was it to image being the distant relative of the Alaouite dynasty? For a moment, it was quite fun.
Olivia had stopped and tears threatened to spill. She was delicate, like the lace of Zaida’s dress. She wiped away a smudge of mascara under Olivia’s lash line. Zaida soothed with a shhhh and soft smile. “All is not lost, love. You will have one of your own one day.” After too many drinks, Zaida could be this way too. Too passionate and attached in circling around one thought until it was willed into existence. Only to be forgotten the next day when sobriety made the world less serious. “What will you name him?”
Whether a princess or duchess, the woman was nice. She was so nice. That was the one thing that overshadowed the twinge of envy in Olivia’s heart when the subject of an allowance came up. No, she didn’t have one in the traditional sense. Olivia didn’t have her own credit cards or carry around cash. She simply told someone what she needed, and it appeared. Or it didn’t. Depending on the whims of whoever reported back to the king about that sort of thing.
Maybe she could ask Mother. She was an adult. She could handle her own money.
“Aleksey,” she answered immediately, leaning into the woman’s hand. The perfect namesake for the world’s most beautiful horse. For a moment, Olivia was quite satisfied. Her imagination ran wild with the thought of a golden horse prancing around the grounds of the main palace alongside her brother’s Winnie. Or perhaps she’d bring her prize to Austria. The crown prince there would appreciate a rare equine beauty one thousand times more than her brother ever could.
Then her lips pressed into a slight frown. She raised her chin, and blinked several times. Olivia tried to sit up straight, but instead she sort of rocked. A bit too far first to one side and then the other until she found her balance. She placed her hand delicately on the woman’s arm, and spoke in a loud whisper.
“Do you think… oh, is that a terrible idea? You know… you know, if you get a tattoo, if it’s someone’s name, and then you break up… oh noooooo.” Olivia’s gaze raised to the top of the woman’s head. She reached out to touch the other princess’ dark locks.
“Aleksey! I like it.” Zaida nodded resolutely. “It’s Russian, right? A-l-e-x-s-e-i?” Her mother danced a ballet with a member of the Bolshoi. A snapped photo in a frame had the date on the back in a glossy cursive, followed by avec Alexsei and the flourish of a heart.
Alexsei from the Bolshoi Ballet was SO handsome. Zaida often daydreamed he was her father and she had been born in Saint Petersburg. Maybe Vladivostok. She had convinced an ex, as sweet and wide-eyed as Olivia, she was part Russian and had been very close to getting her toe shoes…
There was a Russian prince named Aleksey.
While Zaida wrapped herself in fantasy, Olivia changed. The champagne fizz took the princess into darker waters. The pirate guided Olivia carefully then. She needed water.
Zaida gently squeezed Olivia’s hand. “No, never tattoo someone’s name on your body. No matter what. It’s like a curse. Sometimes things we are so sure of are gone the next day. It’s so sad, but true. And then you’re left getting a cover up.” Less romantic and impulsive. “Even though, you will always know the name is in there somewhere. Maybe… get a tattoo of your beautiful horse instead.”
Ew. Zaida couldn’t imagine.
A finger softly coiled a thick, silk red curl. “Yes. We can braid each other’s hair. You would be even prettier with French braids. I will give you one on each side.” They walked slow by a vase with flowers and Zaida grabbed a few on the way. Blues and purples, to stand out in the ginger.
“I’m not ready to go to sleep yet, are you?”
Getting a tattoo of a horse was something she hadn’t considered before. Primarily because there were so many things she already wasn’t allowed to do, and so it had just never crossed her radar. Plus there was the whole getting stabbed with ink bit - seemed like an unpleasant experience. Where would she even put the image of a whole horse? But what if it was a miniature horse?
These thoughts occupied Olivia for a good ways down the corridor until she suddenly remembered that she’d been asked a question and had not answered. No, she could definitely stay awake. She wasn’t tired at all. Hungry on the other hand...
“Let’s stay up all night! It can be, it can be... like in a movie. When they have a overnight party. And they stay the night? And they eat sweets and wear pajamas? Just us! Oh, but my cousin, Heddy, should come too. You would like her so much.” Olivia stumbled, both over her words and a uneven portion of the carpet.
“I love her so much,” she added, getting a bit teary.
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