I inspected the new arrival with a dubious eye. She had a button nose and rosy cheeks. Her eyes were sharp, surveying me with the same prowess that I displayed. 

I didn’t like her.

“We were going to play knights and ogres today. Since you’re new, you have to be the ogre.”

“I don’t want to be a smelly ogre,” she cringed. Her accent was as thick as her scowl. “You be the ogre. I’m going to be the princess in the tower.”

“No.” Lemma tugged at her sleeve. “You have to do what Princess Alethea says.”

“She’s not my princess. I’m not from this country.”

“Please,” Lemma tried again. “Momma says we’ll get in trouble if we don’t listen to the Princess. We have to do whatever she tells us.”

“You do?” My eyes grew in surprise.

“Yes, Princess.”

“What if you don’t like what I tell you to do?” I asked, skeptical of this new revelation. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Lemma’s head dropped. “That’s why I always have to be the ogre or the dragon when we play. Momma says I have to do whatever you tell me.” 

“But I don’t want to play the bad monster,” the new girl whined.

A smile spread across my face. 

“It doesn’t matter!” I declared. “I’m the Princess and you have to do whatever I say. You will be the ogre, Lemma will be the knight, and I will be the princess.”

“But you are already a princess for real,” the girl persisted. “Let someone else take a turn.” 

“You have to do what I say, and I say you are an ogre!” 

We ran through the garden chasing one another. I ran from the ogre as Lemma attempted to slay the beast with her imaginary sword. I hid behind the raised fish pond that my mother kept in the garden. Before Lemma could catch up to us, the new girl pushed me into the water.

I screamed. The cold water soaked through my gown. My pretty hair that had been fashioned by the maid that morning was wet and ruined, and a large, orange koi fish swam against my leg. It was slimy and slippery against my skin, causing another of my wails to echo across the garden. I sat in the water, crying and quivering as tears poured down my cheeks.

“Ha!” the girl pointed and laughed.

“You can’t do that!” I sobbed. 

“I didn’t do it,” she said. “The ogre pushed the princess in, not me!”

One of my maids hurried to us at the sound of my distress. She gathered me into her arms and demanded Lemma tell her what had happened. 

“Kick her out of my castle!” I pointed an angry finger at the strange girl who had ruined our playtime. “I never want to see her again!”

And I never did.

Lemma’s mother was told what happened. She made new accommodations so that the girl had somewhere else to go while her parents worked in the Capital.

That night, my parents sat on my bed to talk to me about what had happened. 

“Did you like that you were in charge?” my father asked. “That they did whatever you said?”

“Yes,” I whimpered. “I don’t understand why I’m in trouble! It is not my fault that they have to do what I tell them to.”

“You’re not in trouble, dearest,” my mother cooed. “We are talking about this to help you understand what happened today. We want you to understand why that girl pushed you into the water.”

“She pushed me in because she’s an ogre!” I cried. “A real ogre who is mean and wants to hurt me. I’m a princess, and she was supposed to listen to me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having the power to make others listen to you.” My father pulled me into his arms. “But you must use that power to help people, not yourself.”

“Today you learned that being a princess comes with a little bit of peril,” my mother explained. “When you make others do things you don’t like, they might rebel against you. You can’t be selfish. You must be wise with how you command the maids and Lemma. Think about how it will make them feel.” 

“If they don't like what I tell them, will they push me in the fish fountain, too?” 

“I hope not,” my father chuckled. “But power can be dangerous. For you and others. We want you to understand that. Someday, people might want your power for themselves. That’s why you must be kind and just. Never give someone a reason to try to take it away. They may do worse than make you sit with your mother’s fish.”

“But you’ll be here to protect me, right?”

“Always."

I learned, however, that even a princess can’t command death. No one wields such power. I was eight years old when my father fell in battle, conquering a neighboring kingdom. Though his death won the war, it lost us the King of Hart. 

With the conquest of the neighboring kingdom came new trade, goods, and new people. New diseases quickly followed. My mother succumbed to severe illness, along with her sadness, in the same year. 

My uncle, brother to the king, became Regent of Hart. That’s when I saw how easily power could be moved from person to person. How quickly titles could be granted and taken. The castle changed. My maids and tutors left me, one by one, to be replaced with new instructors. The men who once sat at the table with my father no longer passed me in the halls. I noticed that they no longer came to the castle at all. My uncle had new people telling him about the country. New men helping him create laws. 

And so, as the power around me shifted, I found that my father had been right. There were worse things than being pushed into the slimy fish pond.