“Hide your thumbs, Allyshandre!” my mother used to say. “There is a funeral procession.”
“Stupid superstition,” I would mutter.
Stupid superstition, I thought burying my thumbs deeply into my hands as a hearse passed me on the road. If it wasn’t for the superstition perhaps the revolution wouldn’t have happened.
The revolution that killed my parents.
“You don’t believe in that stupid superstition, do you, Ally?” a voice whispered in my ear.
“Not really,” I replied and looked over at Karen with a smile. “You can never be too careful.”
“Silly sentimental,” She replied, “Be careful who sees you do that though. After the revolution, you do not want to be seen following the old religions.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “They might take you for a royal family supporter, or even hidden nobility.”
I laughed. I knew Karen did not know. No one did. “Do I look like nobility?” I smiled at her.
“Not really,” she grinned and then laughed with me.
Of course I didn’t look like nobility. I would have been a fool to. But I am much more than nobility.
“You know though,” Karen winked conspiratorially, “The princess has the same honey blonde hair, they say.”
“The princess also has purple eyes and the mark of royalty on her neck,” I replied, pulling down my collar to display the white skin where the mark should be. My fingers brushed it under the illusion. It had a different texture than the other skin, but to Karen it looked unblemished. I wish I didn’t have to have this conversation on the road. It would draw attention to me.
I looked back to the hearse. They didn’t have a procession for my father. He was not even buried in the royal tomb. They burned his body and spread his ashes across the land. His soul would never have peace.
I was the missing princess. I hid my image with a magical glammor spell. Who would know the simple looking college student girl was the girl that would revenge the royal family and retake the throne.