Chapter 56: Burning with Energy (Not Fire, Thankfully)

Chapter 56: Burning with Energy (Not Fire, Thankfully) I blinked. And blinked again. No, I wasn’t hallucinating. The entire Imperial Palace was burning. Not literally with flames (thank goodness), but with... something worse. Energy. Buzzing, crackling, sizzling energy filled every inch of the hallways, the gardens, and even the ceilings. The servants were running around like bees on sugar. The knights stood at attention like they expected a war to break out. The chefs were wheeling in carts of cakes so high that the top ones looked like they needed oxygen masks. "Move, move, move! It’s Her Highness’s and His Majesty’s birthday! If this cake leans one degree to the left, I swear on the Emperor’s name—!" shouted one of our panicked chefs, waving a ladle like a sword. "Who left the pink roses in the yellow flower section?! We’re not savages, people!" screeched a gardener, his face redder than a tomato. "Where’s the golden ribbon?! I need more golden ribbon! I will riot if there’s no golden ribbon on this cake!" Was that... the Head Butler? Head Butler Alton, the always calm, always dignified Head butler Alton was now reduced to a man threatening a ribbon revolution. I clutched Marshmallow tighter in my arms, his soft fur squished against my cheek. Even this little divine kitten, who normally walked around like a dignified animal, was staring wide-eyed at the mayhem. "Let’s get to the room before we get burned by their energy, Marshi..." I mumbled, shielding us both like a soldier marching through enemy fire. It was my birthday, sure. But was it too much to pray for a lazy afternoon nap and a quiet cuddle with Marshmallow? Apparently, yes. Apparently, birthdays in the Imperial Palace meant chaos, panic, and mild psychological warfare. Marshmallow let out a tiny, pitiful meow in agreement, as if he, too, had seen the horrors of birthday preparations. But why did I feel like...this year was going to be even grander — and wilder — than my first birthday? "Let’s go to our chamber," I sighed. I tiptoed—well, tried to tiptoe—through the madness and finally reached the doors of my chamber. Relief flooded me as I pushed them open— And then I froze. I blinked again. Dresses. Dresses everywhere. Pink, blue, gold, silver, puffy, glittery — it was like a rainbow had exploded, panicked, and then exploded again just to be sure. Even my poor bed was buried under a mountain of frills, lace, and sparkles. The air smelled suspiciously like perfume and fabric glue. I didn’t even have time to scream internally because— "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PRINCESS!" Marella popped up from behind a mountain of dresses like a jack-in-the-box, arms flailing and a giant grin plastered across her face. "GAAHHHH!" I yelped, nearly dropping Marshmallow. Even Marshi, usually composed, fluffed up like a terrified dandelion and dug tiny claws into my sleeve. There was no escape. Before I could run and join the ribbon revolution outside, Marella lunged forward and scooped me into a hug, squeezing the air right out of me. "You’re finally almost four! Soon you’ll be stomping all over the palace like a tiny empress!" She cheered, spinning me around so fast my crown tilted sideways. Marshmallow dangled helplessly from my arms, his little legs stiff in betrayal. From somewhere behind the dress mountain, Nanny bustled out, her arms full of what looked suspiciously like three more dresses. Because obviously we didn’t have enough already. "Happy birthday, my precious little princess!" Nanny cried, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief like a proud mother hen. "You are the sun, the moon, and the stars today!" I wasn’t sure about stars. Right now, I just wanted to be a quiet little pebble and hide under the bed. Marella, still vibrating with excitement, plopped three dresses onto the bed with a thud that shook the mountain of frills. "Now, my lady," she said grandly, "today is your most special day! You must choose your dress! Would you prefer..." She gestured dramatically to the mess behind her, where two maids were still dragging in even more options. The dresses shimmered under the sunlight like dangerous predators waiting to pounce. Marella yanked two from the pile and held them up like a market vendor selling very sparkly vegetables. "Option one!" she shouted. She lifted a monstrous pink dress so big it could fit three of me inside. It was so frilly it made my teeth hurt just looking at it. "Option two!" Marella switched hands, displaying a sleek, elegant blue gown that looked like it belonged to an ice princess. It even had tiny snowflake patterns embroidered at the hem. Nanny bustled over with a third dress, a soft gold one that shimmered every time it moved. "Or perhaps this, my darling princess? The royal gold! A classic choice for a future empress!" Three dresses. Three very sparkly, very dangerous dresses. And three very expectant pairs of eyes staring at me. I kicked my tiny feet thoughtfully, pretending to be deep in philosophical thought. In reality, I was thinking something like: How do I escape this frill invasion without offending anyone and getting stuffed into Option One by force? Behind them, I could hear the muffled yelling of a worker running past the hallway: "No, no, the swan ice sculpture goes on the left, you fool, the left! Her Highness deserves perfection!" "We ran out of pink flowers!" "Sacrifice your dignity and paint the white ones pink, then!" Even inside my chamber, the palace’s madness seeped in like smoke. Birthday celebrations at the Imperial Palace weren’t just grand. They were wars. Nanny leaned closer. Marella wiggled the dresses at me. "Which one, Your Highness?" they asked in perfect unison, big smiles plastered on their faces. I lifted my chin regally, pretending to be very serious. I was almost four years old, after all. I had standards. (Also, I didn’t want to die inside a pink fabric monster.) "Gold," I declared, pointing to the soft, shimmery dress. Short. Simple. Strategic. I could run away easily in that one if necessary. Nanny clapped her hands, beaming. "Oh, my brilliant one, our little princess has such good taste! Just like His Majesty the Emperor!" Marella wiped a fake tear from her eye. "I’m so proud! She’s growing up so fast!" Meanwhile, one maid in the corner accidentally knocked over a pile of tiaras and shrieked like she’d committed a mortal sin. Meanwhile, Marshmallow rolled dramatically onto his back in my lap, paws to the sky, like he had finally given up on life. I knew exactly how he felt. Then I sighed in relief. Finally. It was over. Victory tasted sweet. Like marshmallow-flavored naps. I waddled toward my bed, dragging Marshmallow with me. My plan was simple:Dive under the blankets. Disappear. Sleep until this whole birthday thing was someone else’s problem. I was two seconds away from blissful escape when— "Whee!" Nanny swooped me up like a crane grabbing a helpless little fish. I dangled in the air, legs kicking. "We need to get ready, my princess," she sang cheerfully, spinning me around like I was some kind of piñata. "But I want to sleep, Nanny!" I wailed, flailing harder. "I’m a growing child! I need naps to grow taller!" Marshmallow, still clutched in my arms, let out a pitiful meep of agreement. We were both victims of the system. Nanny just laughed, the cruel woman. "My little princess, this is an important day! We must look our very best!" "But I’m just four!" I protested, scandalized. "Four-year-olds need at least twenty naps a day!" "Important ladies must make sacrifices," Nanny said, nodding wisely as if she was quoting some ancient Imperial law. "I’m important when I’m sleeping," I argued back stubbornly. Marella giggled from behind a tower of dresses. "She has a point, Nanny." "Don’t encourage her!" Nanny huffed, adjusting my wriggling body like I was a sack of rebellious potatoes. Meanwhile, Marshmallow leapt onto the bed with the grace of a tiny, furry traitor.He spun around once, plopped himself right in the middle of my bed, and fell asleep instantly — like he was provoking me. Like he was saying,Heh, look, I can have naps freely. TRAITOR. Then I crossed my arms and gave Nanny my best serious face. "Nanny, how about... I nap first and get ready later?" Nanny raised an eyebrow. "How about no?" "Five minutes?" I bargained, holding up my tiny fingers like it was a life-or-death negotiation. "Today is your important day, Your Highness," Nanny said, adjusting my dress with battlefield determination. "You must shine like a star!" "But Nanny, I’m a Tiny Princess," I protested, "not a lantern!" Marella snorted behind a dress, trying (and failing) to hide her laughter. Meanwhile, Marshmallow stretched even bigger across the bed like he was saying, "Good luck, you human." And that was just the trailer of my fourth birthday, which—if possible—was even grander than my first. I could already feel the stress building, and we hadn’t even started the real celebration yet. I miss Papa now.