Chapter 1- Royalty
“The past was a haunting melody, she danced to the rhythm, determined to rewrite the song. She wore her heartbreak like battle scars, each one the story of a lost love that refused to fade. Each loss was a lesson as she traveled through time, seeking to find her place in this cruel and lonely world.”
"Come on, Kyla. Let go of the whiskey bottle and let me help you with the corset," Sila pleads with me. I take another gulp from my jeweled canteen, feeling the warmth of the liquor spread through me, ignoring her request.
"Your brother will take your head if you arrive at the ball drunk," she continues, her blue eyes pleading with me to cooperate for once.
"Oh, how I wish he fucking would," I reply sarcastically, finally setting the bottle aside so Sila can begin lacing up my corset. I despise these confining contraptions, always too tight and suffocating. Men have no clue how fortunate they are. No corsets. No monthly courses. No restraints on society.
"This isn't a joke. This ball is in honor of your late father," Keana chimes in, carefully placing a voluminous skirt over my petticoat. The dress, adorned with diamonds, shimmers in emerald green, perfectly matching my eyes.
"I know, I know," I sigh, feeling the weight of the occasion. "We haven't had a festivity since his passing, and it feels wrong to celebrate his death."
Caitir approaches and gently takes my hands in hers. "Princess, we are celebrating his life, not his death. He was a remarkable king and father, deserving of recognition."
I know she is right. It has been exactly a year since my father, King Tullius of Lakespire, fell in battle against our enemies from Redbury. His death has burdened my older brother, Aldrin, with the responsibility of continuing the war alone as a young and inexperienced King. Thank the gods he still has our mother to help guide him.
"I'm just not in the mood for a party," I confess to my loyal ladies, reaching for the bottle once more and taking a sip of the whiskey. I am grateful that they have done their best to make me look beautiful tonight, adorning me in a grand ball gown and taming my unruly red curls into an elegant half-up, half-down style with braids but I don't want to leave my bedchambers.
"Well now that we're all dressed, let's have a drink and get you in the party spirit!" Sila exclaims with excitement, her golden curls bouncing in the air.
"Fine," I reluctantly agree, handing the canteen to her. The four of us gather in front of the fireplace, passing the canteen of liquor amongst ourselves until it's completely empty and our faces are numb.
These girls are more than just my ladies in waiting; they're my family, and we often find ourselves indulging in rebellious activities together since childhood. I am so thankful to have them by my side during the hardest parts of my life.
Sila flicks her wrists, and suddenly, snow starts falling inside the room, despite the warmth of the fire. "Being a Weather Shifter may not be rare or special, but it's incredible to be able to use magic whenever I want," she remarks.
"It's still better than being a Mood Whisperer. All I can do is manipulate the emotions of those around me," Caitir complains glumly.
"Hey, that comes in handy when dealing with my mood swings all day," I tease her.
"True," she giggles. "I wonder what you'll specialize in. I'm sure it'll be amazing."
"I hope so. I'm terrified of becoming the first Royal Featureless," I confess. When a highborn turns eighteen, they must undergo The Alzeer Trials, a test/ritual to determine their specialization in a category of magic. If you fail to specialize, you're sent to a peasant town without magic and branded as a Featureless, someone without magical abilities.
"Trust me, that would never happen to you. You're too much of a pain in the ass," Keana says, playfully jabbing me in the ribs, and we all burst into laughter.
As the whiskey flows through my veins, I feel my spirits lifting, preparing me to embrace the role of the joyful Princess, all for the sake of my father. Just as if the universe orchestrates it, the grand French doors to my chamber swing open, and there stands Sir Rowan, my trusted Knight and friend.
"Princeza," he greets me with a nod, his distinct Stonerun accent, a familiar melody to my ears. "Are you prepared to grace the ball?"
Confidently, I reply, ensuring my words carry no trace of slurring, "Indeed, Sir Rowan."
He guides us through the main corridor, leading the way towards the throne room, while my ladies and I follow at a respectable distance.
"I still can't get over how pleasing he is to behold. Your father truly bestows upon us the greatest gift by appointing him as your Knight," Sila gushes, linking her arm with mine.
"Oh, trust me, I am well aware," I respond with a knowing smile. "Do you remember Sir Howard? The mere thought of him sends shivers down my spine." He was such a boring and creepy old man.
Sila giggles, her dimples revealing her amusement. "How could I forget? You frightened him away by threatening to lace his ale with truth serum and expose his deepest secrets."
"I would of to," I respond confidently. "It feels like a lifetime ago."
I have developed a habit of driving away the guards my father assigns to watch over me before Rowan's arrival. Despite his youth, my father initially disapproves of someone so close in age protecting his only daughter. However, Rowan has already proven himself as a formidable warrior.
Moreover, he possesses a captivating appearance with his long brown hair and kind brown eyes. Countless nights are spent in my chambers, engaging in chess and sipping on wine, though he never allows me to claim victory, despite my royal status. Despite this, I liked his company and he seemed to be amused by my mood swings and outbursts that scared off my last guards.
Finally, we reach the grand ballroom doors, which swing open as the guards grant us passage, revealing the enchantment that awaits inside...
