Born to Rule

while I announce your turret assignments in the royal castle of Camp Princess. When your title is called, kindly step up to the footman and receive your welcome scroll.”
    “That is the Queen Mum,” another princess said to Alicia. “She is Camp Mistress.” Alicia smiled at the girl and moved in closer to listen for her name. If they went in alphabetical order, she would certainly be one of the first to be called. But alas, the assignments were by turret.
    “East Turret, Princess Zelenka from the Dominion of Thrallnork, Princess Parisiana from the Majestic Realm of Chantillip…” The list went on. There were three girls assigned to each turret. After the East Turret came the North Turret and then the West Turret.
    Princesses all around Alicia were chattering away. “I hope I’m not in the South Turret!” one princess exclaimed.
    “Me too. I wouldn’t want to live in a turret that has a ghost,” another said.
    “Is it true that your turretmates are also your teammates?” someone else asked.
    “I think so. Do you want to be a Purple or a Crimson? My sister was on the Crimson team, and they’ve won the Color Wars three years in a row. I really want to be a Crimson. There are all sorts of contests and competitions, you know, jewelry making, archery.”
    “I heard the Crimsons were all snotty,” someone said.
    “What’s the first contest?” Alicia asked.
    “I’m not sure, but the big one this session is the songbird competition. It counts for a lot. We only have two weeks to catch and train a songbird.”
    “Holy monk bones!” Alicia exclaimed. “That’s not much time!”
    “Look at her,” Alicia heard one of the princesses whisper rather loudly and then point at a new arrival. “That feather in her riding cap—that is so over.”
    “So five minutes ago!” another said.
    Alicia’s stomach turned. She had a feather in one of her riding caps. Luckily she had not worn it today.
    Just then she heard her name called. “South Turret, Princess Alicia of All the Belgravias, Princess Gundersnap of the Empire of Slobodkonia, Princess Kristen of the Isles of the Salt Tears in the Realm of Rolm.”
    A pretty princess with jet-black hair turned to another girl. “I’m glad I’m not them! I’d be afraid of the South Turret ghost!”
    “Oh, heavens, Princess Rosamunde, that ghost is just a rumor from two hundred years ago!” the other princess answered confidently, though Alicia thought she saw her give a little shiver and look around quickly.
    Ooh, I hope she’s right, Alicia thought. She stepped forward to receive her welcome scroll. It was a sheet of parchment rolled up and tied with a purple ribbon.
    “This must mean we’re on the Purple team—duh!” said the princess named Kristen, laughing. Tall and lanky, she was wearing very high, soft suede boots trimmed with fur. Her tiara was made from gold-dipped sawed-off antlers, and her fiery red hair was clipped with a barrette made of some sort of animal’s tooth studded with sapphires. She wore not a wisp of silk or satin, but Alicia admitted that this princess was stylish in a barbaric sort of way.
    Princess Gundersnap, on the other hand, seemed to be a complete disaster. She was stumpy and squat, with pimples and mud-colored hair that sprang out like corkscrews from under her iron tiara. Not a pretty sight! Alicia thought. She looked grumpy as well. Great, thought Alicia. Grumpy and stumpy—and then, of course, a stylish savage. Where do I fit in? She looked down at her own beautiful pink brocade riding skirt festooned with ribbons and lace, and wondered if she looked as odd to her turretmates as they did to her.
    Just as Alicia was contemplating her predicament, she heard the Camp Mistress say, “Now, Princesses, in case you are of a mathematical inclination…”
    “Math, no fair,” said Princess Kristen in her lilting accent. “No schoolwork, just fun here.”
    “I agree!” said another. “I’m here for jewelry design and dances with Camp Burning Shield.”
    Burning Shield! Alicia had heard from her older sister, Lorelei, about the boys’ camp across the lake. There were bunches of cute princes!
    The Camp Mistress continued, “You will notice that there are forty princesses, and not all the turrets are the same size. We’ve done some juggling and doubling up, but it seems that with all my computations, we still have one turret with room for an additional one-third princess. All the others are full. So, you might ask, who