Chapter 1
When you have been locked in a cage for almost your entire life, a brief moment of freedom feels like a sip of water after agonizing thirst. That is exactly how I feel every single time I find myself outside the palace walls. Not that I dislike it there — it is spacious, cozy in places, and quite lively. But when you look at the exact same view for seventeen years, it begins to breed a certain melancholy.
When I turned sixteen, Mother generously allowed me to take occasional walks through Arden, accompanied by Sir Greenwald, the knight assigned to me, and two guards. Of course, for this, I had to trade my royal attire for much simpler, though far more comfortable, clothes and a cloak.
How I wanted to just enjoy this walk through the capital’s streets! True, I had walked these exact routes some twenty times before, but even that was better than meekly waiting to be returned to my “gilded cage.”
Oh! Buns! They look so plump and juicy, ahh! I want one so badly... But Sir Greenwald does not permit me to eat anything outside the palace. So, another time, then…
There are so many interesting things in Arden, but unfortunately, I cannot do as I please. My ventures into the city are always limited to meager amusements.
“What is that? A meow? A kitty?! I want to pet the cat. They are so sweet, so soft, and...”
The moment my hand reached out toward a fluffy ginger cat, Sir Greenwald gently intercepted it.
— Your Highness, Her Majesty has strictly forbidden you from touching stray animals.
I felt a pang of annoyance but decided that next time I would definitely stand my ground. Well, I would just have to visit our hounds tomorrow morning instead. They were quite sweet, too.
The tip of my nose twitched — I caught the aroma of fresh wheat bread drifting from a bakery we were passing. My stomach rumbled treacherously, a sound Sir Greenwald noticed at once.
— Your Highness, are you hungry? By Her Majesty’s decree, I have brought some delicacies for you. Please, eat. — with these words, he produced several parcels from his travel bag.
One was thoroughly soaked in oil; from the crisp biscuits in another, a scent of vanilla drifted. Another parcel hid dried fruits, and the last held neatly stacked strips of jerky. My mouth watered. I wished I could refuse them in protest, but I hadn’t had a single crumb since morning, so… I suppose I would take just one piece.
Our walking time drew to a close. The lively music of the city streets grew fainter and fainter as we approached the castle. Every ounce of festive mood vanished the moment I crossed the threshold. The brief taste of freedom was left behind outside the majestic walls.
“As if it never happened…” I sighed to myself, finding myself in the throne room.
—I have returned, Your Majesty, — I said, bowing my head before the Queen Mother.
She stood on the balcony, idly swirling a silver goblet of expensive wine. Turning to face me, Her Majesty swept her utterly calm gaze over me.
—Once you have made yourself presentable, I expect you in the dining room for dinner. — the cold, steel tone of her voice had long since ceased to frighten me. This formidable woman was my mother, and I had simply grown used to it.
After my bath, the servants hurriedly changed my clothes and done my hair, and I set off for dinner.
The royal dining room, unlike the massive banquet hall, was small and intimate. The Queen sat at the head of the table; my place was directly opposite hers. The cooks bowed to me as I entered. No sooner had I taken my seat than the Queen gestured for the servants to leave the room. We were left entirely alone. With her silent permission, I began to eat.
The meal passed in absolute silence. In the confined space, it was so quiet that the clinking of cutlery echoed sharply against the stone walls. I was already preparing to excuse myself, but the Queen Mother, with a commanding sweep of her hand, forced me to sit back down.
My stomach knotted unpleasantly, and my body instantly tensed. Intuition whispered: a difficult conversation was about to take place.
In a cold, authoritative tone, with just a single phrase, she ruthlessly stripped away my fragile happiness:
—Your walks are at an end. Enough childishness. Your eighteenth birthday is fast approaching, and with it, your impending marriage. Preparations begin tomorrow. Conduct yourself wisely, Vivienne. Good night.
Before I could utter a single word in response, I was effectively dismissed. I could only bow my head in silent obedience.
My personal maids helped me undress for bed. In their hands, I felt like a helpless rag doll. They dressed me, undressed me, painted my face, styled my hair... At least I was permitted to bathe myself.
Finally, I was left alone in my bedroom. Just me and the silence.
I stood barefoot on the rug, feeling its softness beneath my feet. A hundred thoughts crowded my mind, yet at the same time, a frightening emptiness reigned. I wanted to scream, to weep, to fight, to run... but my face felt as though it had turned to stone, and my body refused to move. I knew perfectly well what fate awaited a Princess of Orien. I knew I had been deprived of freedom since my very first breath. I knew that at eighteen, I would be forced to choose a husband from a list of approved candidates. I had spent my entire life preparing for this moment, but still… still, it was so unfair! So utterly unfair!
My legs carried me toward the balcony of their own accord. I flung the window panes open with force, and the night wind struck my face. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale...
The lump in my throat became entirely unbearable, and I finally broke down in tears, biting my lip fiercely to stifle the sob. My hair and thin nightgown whipped about in the wind. The cool air gradually sobered me.
“I am strong. I must be strong. It is necessary. I will get through this,” I repeated to myself like a mantra.
At last, the despair receded, taking my remaining strength with it and leaving only a heavy drowsiness. I slipped into my warm bed, desperately trying not to think about what tomorrow would bring.
