My Two Left Feet and His Two Right Steps

Natalia 

With a measure of trust finally established within the palace, a delightful new liberty was afforded to me: the freedom to explore its vast grounds without Viktor’s constant shadow, so long as I remained within the walls. My first destination, prompted by the news of an upcoming festival, was Isaak’s modest medical wing. While I doubted Uncle Julian would organize a celebration for Viktor’s victory any time in the immediate future, I believed in the wisdom of being prepared.

“Isaak~” I called out, my voice lilting as I stepped into the infirmary. I was giddy with the simple pleasure of being the bearer of information for a change.

“My lady?” Isaak asked, looking up from the sea of paperwork covering his desk. I gracefully hopped onto the edge of his desk, my gaze sweeping curiously over the scattered documents. My attention was momentarily snagged by his records, and I decided to indulge a nagging question before delivering my news.

“Why aren’t you administering any vaccinations?” I inquired, my finger tracing a line on one of the charts. It struck me as odd. Surely, a vaccination program would drastically reduce the incidence of sickness here.

“A vaccination, lady?” he repeated, his brow knitting in confusion. I had always assumed Isaak was a competent physician, not some charlatan. Could it be that this world lacked even the most basic immunizations?

“You know, a shot,” I clarified, seeing my initial term didn’t register. “When you use those sharp, stinging little needles to inject a liquid into someone?” Realizing a more thorough explanation was needed, I elaborated. “A shot is basically a weakened or inert version of a disease. You introduce it into the body so it can prepare its defenses against the real thing. Think of it like a king’s scout, sent ahead to warn of an invading army and bringing back a prisoner to reveal the enemy’s exact tactics. Does that make sense?”

A wave of nostalgia for modern medicine washed over me. Isaak seemed to be grasping only a fraction of what I was saying, yet he was completely captivated by the concept. Our conversation on the topic stretched on, and it was only as I was about to depart that I remembered my original purpose. I slapped my forehead and spun back toward him.

“I’m so sorry! I got so distracted I completely forgot to tell you my news!” I exclaimed. “There’s to be a ball and festival in the coming days to celebrate Viktor’s first major victory against the rebels.” For the briefest of seconds, a shadow passed over Isaak’s features, his expression tightening into something akin to irritation, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He simply nodded and thanked me for the information, and with that, I finally left the medical wing.

My next target was Viktor’s study. For the first time, my boredom wasn’t driving me toward a book.

I threw the doors to his study open with a dramatic flourish, not even giving the sentries a chance to intervene. “Vikky!” I bellowed, skipping into the room with all the subtlety of a charging bull. Viktor shot me a look of pure impatience. Ah, not good, I thought. I couldn’t let him become desensitized to my antics; that would spoil all the fun. I scurried behind his chair and wrapped my arms around him in a hug. He grunted and tried to return to his work. Being ignored has never sat well with me, so I snatched one of his spare quills, took aim, and launched it at the back of his head. It landed squarely between his shoulders.

He swiveled around to glare at me. You know, without the perpetual scowl, he and Morgan might have actually gotten along. She used to give me that exact same look when I pelted her with sharpened colored pencils during study hall. It never deterred me then, and I was pleased to find my provocations were still effective. I’ve been told I have a talent for pushing people to their absolute limits. I wholeheartedly agree.

When he turned back to his work, once again ignoring me, I plunked down in a nearby chair and began to babble, stringing together nonsensical phrases to the tunes of random songs. It took less than a minute. I heard the sharp snap of his quill. He rose from his chair, strode over to me, and in one fluid motion, hoisted me over his shoulder and unceremoniously deposited me in the hallway outside. The door slammed shut, and I heard the decisive click of the lock.

I stood there for a moment, contemplating my next victim—er, playmate. Jace would normally be my go-to, but Viktor had arranged for him to begin some combat lessons, and I didn’t want to interrupt. So, who to pester? A slow grin spread across my face. Markus!

Markus was infinitely more fun to conspire with than Viktor! For one thing, he actually possessed a sense of humor, a trait Viktor seemed to be sorely lacking. With this cheerful thought, I began my hunt through the palace. It took the better part of an hour to track him down, but the timing was perfect; he seemed to have finished his duties for the day and was just as bored as I was.

“Markus~” I sang. He glanced up, a smile instantly lighting up his face.

“Natalia~” he sang back in perfect mimicry.

My own smile widened as I sauntered over, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “You know,” I began conspiratorially, “Viktor has absolutely no idea how to have fun without us. Left to his own devices, he’d work himself into an early grave. I think it’s been far too long since we joined forces to inject a little F-U-N into this dreary place.”

“We’ve never joined forces,” he pointed out.

“Exactly! So it has been far too long!” This time, we both grinned and began to plot Viktor’s downfall—or, at the very least, his momentary amusement.

It took some time to distract the sentries, but two hours later, as Markus and I crouched in a nearby alcove, it was all worth it. I knocked sharply on the study door and then darted back to my hiding spot. Seconds later, the door swung open and Viktor stepped out. The bucket of honey I had meticulously balanced above the doorway tipped perfectly, drenching him in a sticky, golden mess. As he stood there in shock, Markus and I yanked on a rope connected to our makeshift fan, sending a blizzard of chicken feathers swirling around him. We burst into uncontrollable giggles.

It wasn't an original prank, but there's a reason it's a classic.

“Markus! Natalia!” Uh oh. Markus and I shared a wide-eyed look of feigned terror and then took off down the corridor as fast as our legs could carry us, with a furious Viktor hot on our heels. I can only imagine what the palace staff thought that day, witnessing the two of us fleeing with peels of laughter from a giant, feather-covered chicken-man. I was pleased to hear a few stifled snickers from the servants as we sprinted past. In a way, Viktor was lucky he was completely unrecognizable; otherwise, the humiliation would have been far greater.

My own feet betrayed me, and I went tumbling to the floor. Viktor, in his haste, tripped right over me. “Go, Markus! Save yourself!” I gasped out between fits of laughter. He, laughing just as hard, didn’t hesitate and continued his escape, leaving me to face the wrath of Chicken Man.

I looked up at him from my position on the floor and chirped, “Hey there, Chicken Man.”

He leveled a murderous glare at me. Normally, a look like that from Viktor would make a person quail, but seeing it come from a man coated in honey and feathers gave me an unexpected surge of confidence. We both began to push ourselves up from the floor. Just as I was about to ask if we were having chicken for dinner and if he felt the need to dress for the occasion, he slung me over his shoulder yet again.

“You know,” I said, my voice muffled against his back, “this whole throwing-Natalia-around thing is getting a little old.”

If the staff had been confused before, they must have been utterly baffled now, seeing me humming a cheerful tune while being carted off like a sack of grain by a colossal chicken. To complete the picture, I gave them all a happy little wave as we passed. It was a true shame there were no cameras here; the moment was priceless. The chicken dance song was even playing in my head.

The journey to our chambers was long, as Viktor deliberately chose the less-trafficked corridors, but the bewildered expressions we received along the way absolutely made my day. Once inside, I was tossed unceremoniously onto our bed before Viktor shut and locked the door.

“Oh, does the poor Chicken Man need some help plucking his feathers?” I taunted. Viktor’s scowl only made me laugh harder.

I continued to chirp mocking comments as I helped him clean up the sticky, feathery mess. As the last of the honey and feathers were washed away, Viktor seemed to visibly relax. By the time we were finished, it was dinnertime, but Viktor had no intention of leaving the room. I didn’t blame him, given the deep flush that crept up his neck every time he glanced at the door. I don’t think I’d ever seen him blush before. It was an intriguing sight.

Markus must have taken pity on our poor Chicken Man. When Viktor’s stomach finally won out over his embarrassment, we opened the door to find a tray of food on the floor with a short, apologetic note. I brought the meal inside, and we ate together in the quiet of our room. After we finished, I set the tray back outside and began to push the furniture against the walls.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Moving the tripping hazards out of the way,” I replied nonchalantly. “I don’t think ‘death by table leg’ is a particularly noble way to go.” A slow, wicked smirk spread across his face as he understood my intention. Oh, brilliant. I had just gift-wrapped his opportunity for revenge. Fantastic.

As it turned out, by the time we finally went to bed that night, Viktor had made sure my feet were aching. He declared that my waltz was still atrocious and that I danced as if I had two left feet, but he did concede that with my current rate of improvement, I might just be passable for a single dance at the ball. He followed this up by teasing that any man who asked me to dance would have to be blind. I retorted that at least I didn’t sing like an out-of-tune piano and punctuated my point by stomping on his foot.

As I closed my eyes that night, humming a soft lullaby, we were, for that fleeting moment, at peace. But as sleep began to claim me, a single tear escaped and traced a silent path down my cheek. I think I love him. I really, truly think I do. And the knowledge that he keeps me by his side only because of some foolish, damnable prophecy is a pain sharper than any needle.