Chapter 1
Oh, dragons mighty, in skies they roamed, realms enchanted, where dreams were sown. Their gaze profound, their spirits vast, echoes of an era past.
“Karmina!” The shout shattered the gentle melody spilling from her lips. Water sloshed over the sides of the wooden tub and soaked her skirt as she started.
Feliks burst through the back door, his boots thudding against the packed dirt and loose stones behind her home. Sweat glistened on his brow, and his chest heaved with rushed breaths. No longer the snotty-nosed boy, he was a man at sixteen- lean and hardened from his days stalking prey through the forest.
The shirt in her hands dribbled down her arms, and she mentally cursed herself for tuning out her work and getting startled.
Karmina sighed and set aside the sodden tunic. Her skin was cracked and reddened from hours of scrubbing stains. The once-crisp linen was like a tapestry of old stories—mud from a spill, char from an ember’s leap, a ruby splotch of last harvest berries.
Feliks paced beneath the sunlight, shoving stray locks of dark hair from his brow. “You have to see this, Karmina!” he gestured wildly. “I found something in the town square. Rarer than a phoenix’s feather!”
Curiosity sparked, but weariness weighed her tone. “Out with it then. I’ve still mountains to do before the day’s through.”
“You will never believe me!” he shook his head vehemently. Prince Blythe is seeking a bride—any maid in Ghaehi can try to win his favor!”
Karmina’s brow arched skeptically. Within the trees behind her home, sparrows chattered as if mocking.
“Come see for yourself!” Feliks grabbed her wrist, tugging her toward the door with the desperation of a boy late for lessons. “I spotted the crowds on my way back from the woods and glimpsed the proclamation tacked up...”
Karmina squinted against the bright spring sun, skimming the proclamation. “You can’t be serious...” she said, allowing herself to be pulled inside their home.
Karmina’s bare feet left damp prints across the dirt floor. The scent of last night’s pottage had faded, replaced by the sweet perfume of crushed Lysirya blooms adorning the table. Dishes were stacked haphazardly by the hearth, awaiting her attention yet again.
She eyed the stairs, considering if Arisa could be coaxed from her room long enough to help. But her younger sister was more likely flitting about the market stalls, and Faye was no hope, consumed with planning her upcoming nuptial down to the last copper for the dowry.
“As serious as a scorned widow!” Feliks puffed out his chest with glee. “Just imagine it - my older sister as a princess!”
Karmina grabbed her boots by the corner, wobbling as she slid her left foot into the shoe.
Feliks swept an arm out in a flourish, no doubt picturing the life of idle luxury he’d spun earlier. “Neither of us would have to toil. Instead, we could indulge in sugar cakes daily, don immaculate attire, and surrender ourselves to the embrace of idleness.” His words held a hint of longing.
Karmina rolled her eyes but felt a slight grin on her lips as she tugged on her first boot, the leather protesting with a faint creak. “This is precisely why you bring up such fantasies,” she retorted, shaking her head. “You believe there’s something to gain for yourself. But if I were to become a princess, I fail to comprehend how I could idly languish all day, gorging on confections. I would mayhaps die of dullness.” she halfheartedly swung her second boot at her brother.
“And I haven’t the foggiest notion how to ensnare a prince’s favor! I’d likely shame myself into an early grave.”
Feliks cackled, dodging her swipe with practiced ease. “Ah, but my dear Karmina, you underestimate the allure of indulgence!” He fluttered his lashes in mock, high-born fashion. “As a princess, you would transcend the realm of societal expectations. No longer bound by the scrutinizing gazes of others, you could revel in your desires, regardless of the consequences.”
Karmina snorted, her laughter tinged with a hint of temptation. “And yet, I would care,” she countered. “Imagine beholding my figure, plump and resplendent, next to the ethereal Princess Ilyana. It would be akin to a pig standing in the presence of a swan.” With a final tug, her boot nestled comfortably against her calf. “All right, Feliks my boy. You best not be toying with me, squandering my time with idle tales.”
A mischievous grin played across Feliks’ lips as he matched her skepticism with a theatrical flourish. “Oh, sister dear, as if I would ever deceive you,” he retorted, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “And if you do become a princess through this remarkable opportunity, I shall demand a public apology for all the imagined injustices I have endured at your hands.”
“I could show you injustice,” she said, sending a weak kick at his ankles that he deftly dodged.
Feliks’ laughter danced on the breeze as they spilled out onto the bustling street. Karmina tried to push aside the tiny flicker of longing that had ignited in her chest at her brother’s fanciful words. To shed the endless cycle of chores and drudgery like a tattered cloak was a dream as fleeting as the perfumed blossoms drifting on the warm air.
And yet, his silly proclamation had wormed under her skin, carrying a whisper of forbidden hope. What if she did catch the prince’s eye by some miraculous quirk of fate? Riches, comfort, leisure - they called to her like a siren’s song after years of deprivation.
But just as quickly, doubts slithered in like damp tendrils of fog. Practical, sensible Karmina knew such fabulist tales only bred disappointment. This was another wilted promise, doomed as the dying petals carpeting the lanes. A charlatan’s trick to rouse the peasantry’s hopes, only to have them dashed upon the rocks of reality.
Still, a treacherous part of her couldn’t entirely smother the fantasy sparking behind her eyes. She could practically envision the silk gown puddling about her feet, the glittering jewels adorning her throat, and the admiring gasps of nobles as she glided through the palace halls. A small, rueful smile tugged her lips. At least she could savor the dream for a few heartbeats before returning to her humble lot.
The cacophony of the town square enveloped Karmina and Feliks as they entered the bustling maze of stalls and people. Vendors hollered, thrusting their goods towards the passing crowds. “Apples! Fresh apples!” “Finest bolts of silk, just arrived from the Orullus!” Shoppers jostled and bartered, waving coins. Heavily-laden wagons rumbled, the drivers cracking their whips and shouting for the masses to make way.
Karmina frowned at the crowds. The marketplace was always busy, but today, it seemed worse than usual. So many people packed together, the air thick with the smell of sweat and spilled goods. She nearly suggested they turn back when a heavy wagon hove into view. The two enormous draft horses strained against their harnesses as the driver flailed his whip, urging them onward recklessly.
Laughter rose above the general din as a group of children darted between the forest of legs, chasing after a woven ball. “Over here!” a young boy cried out gleefully, batting it towards his friends with a stick. The ball sailed through the air, the children scrambling after it heedlessly.
Karmina’s cry of alarm caught in her throat as the woven ball bounced in front of the thundering wagon’s path.
A tiny girl, no taller than Karmina’s waist, brushed past her in pursuit, laughing as she chased after her play prize. The vendor steering the wagon seemed unaware of the child’s peril, focusing solely on urging the horses faster down the narrow street. The massive beasts showed no signs of slowing, their iron-shod hooves striking the cobblestones in a thunderous cadence.
“Stop!” Karmina’s shout tore from her throat as she spotted the tiny girl dart in front of the oncoming wagon in pursuit of her woven ball. She didn’t pause to think, her body propelling her into the chaos.
Feliks jerked at his sister’s sudden movement, his eyes widening as he registered the peril. “Karmina!” The din swallowed his cry of alarm.
Karmina’s heart pounded, the surrounding sights and sounds fading into a blur. The only thing in focus was the small girl, laughing gleefully, oblivious to the danger bearing upon her. A collective gasp arose from the crowd as they, too, realized her plight.
“Karmina!” Feliks voice shouted in concern, his voice getting lost in the commotion.
Then, the wagon was upon them. Karmina caught the driver’s terrified expression as he finally noticed the child and frantically pulled back on the reins. But it was too late to halt the horses’ momentum. Without a second thought, she lunged toward the girl, slamming into her tiny body and shoving her out of harm’s way with every ounce of strength she could muster.
She heard the horses going right behind her, just avoiding being trampled. But the wide wagon wasn’t going to be avoided. She saw it before it happened. The large wooden wheel crashed into Karmia’s outstretched shoulder. It hit her with so much force that she felt her body flip into a spin, sending her sprawling onto the hard cobblestone street. White hot agony blossomed, spreading through her like wildfire as she fell to the ground, her shoulder throbbing.
Her vision swam as she tried to push herself off of the streets. Voices crowded around her as she forced herself into a sitting position. She tried to find the young girl she had just shoved, hopefully to safety. Was she okay?
“Someone call a healer!” She recognized the deep voice but couldn’t focus on it.
There! Karmina’s gaze finally landed on the chestnut-haired girl, stunned on the cobblestones a few feet away. Relief washed over her - the child appeared unharmed if shaken. The forgotten woven ball lay beside her; its importance paled in the aftermath of such chaos.
“Hold still, we can call for a healer.” Feliks’ voice was suddenly beside her, his strong hands gripping her shoulders to prevent further movement.
Karmina shook her head minutely, sucking in a sharp breath as pain lanced through her. “I am okay,” she insisted, though her face was pale beneath the street grime layer.
She offered the wide-eyed girl a shy smile, silently assessing her lack of visible injuries. “Are you alright?” Karmina fought to keep her voice steady so as not to betray the throbbing agony in her shoulder.
The girl nodded slowly, her little lips quivering. Tentatively, she reached out a grubby hand to touch Karmina’s arm as if to reassure herself this stranger had truly saved her from catastrophe. “Thank you, lady. You saved me.”
Karmina winced as those tiny fingers made unintended contact with her injured shoulder. Gritting her teeth, she willed herself to remain still and gentle, not frightening the child further. “I’m glad you’re alright,” she managed softer. “In the future, be sure you aren’t running into busy streets.”
Karmina winced as the girl’s tiny hand made contact with her injured shoulder. But she forced herself not to push away the young girl’s hand. “I’m glad you are alright. In the future, be sure you are not running into busy streets.” She admonished the child.
The girl nodded dutifully. “Yes, lady.” With one last wide-eyed look at her savior, she scooped up the woven ball and scampered back into the churning crowd, disappearing from view.
“Clear out some room!” A deep, resonant voice boomed over the commotion, instantly commanding respect and obedience. The crowd shifted deferentially, clearing a path as the intimidating lawman strode forward, his regal red cape billowing behind him. His chestnut mare’s hooves struck the cobblestones, carrying her master in a display of controlled power.
Towering above them, Cisiad exuded an aura of seasoned authority. His mane of dark hair, now peppered with streaks of hard-earned gray, framed a sun-kissed face etched with experience.
The sunlight caught the gleaming brass insignia on Cisiad’s chest, its polished surface reflecting the esteem accorded to his respected office.
Piercing gray eyes surveyed the scene, missing no detail as he assessed the aftermath. “Take the wagon driver’s permit and issue a warning for reckless conduct,” he ordered a nearby deputy with a curt wave. As the man hurried to comply, Cisiad turned his intense gaze back to Karmina and Feliks.
“Are you alright?” His eyes bored into Karmina, missing no nuance of expression or injury.
She mustered a reassuring smile, careful not to jostle her tender shoulder further. “I am okay. I will get some salve from our shop later and be fitter than a dwarf on gemstone eve.”
Cisiad’s mouth twitched ever so slightly at her bravado, but his piercing stare remained locked on her face, searching. “Are you sure?” He pressed, gaze flickering briefly to her brother, scrutinizing their reactions.
Feliks placed a steadying hand on Karmina’s uninjured arm. “I will make sure she gets the salve needed,” he affirmed.
Though relieved the immediate danger had passed, Karmina wished to escape the crowd’s scrutiny and Cisiad’s penetrating inspection. Her shoulder throbbed incessantly.
Cisiad straightened to his full, imposing height. “I am guessing you two are here to read the announcement,” he remarked, his piercing eyes following the flow of people as the crowds began to resettle into their routine bustle.
“I saw it earlier and Karmina wanted to see it for herself,” Feliks interjected, his words carrying a teasing undercurrent that flushed Karmina’s cheeks. She reacted with a playful swat to her brother’s shoulder.
"You said I needed to see it myself,” she reminded him, struggling to keep a moody tone from her voice as the lingering ache in her injured shoulder gnawed at her resolve.
A low rumble of laughter escaped Cisiad, the rare sound of mirth momentarily transforming his stern visage. “Believe me, my ears were astounded when the herald’s proclamation reached them this morning. But it does make sense.” His deep baritone took on an admiring quality. “King Liones has always held a special place in his heart for the common folk.”
Karmina felt her curiosity piqued at the mention of the king’s latest decree. “Will your daughter, Senalla, be part of it?” She found her gaze drawn again to the imposing constable; memories of his stern protectiveness over his beautiful daughter flitted through her mind.
Cisiad’s expression grew contemplative, paternal concern furrowing his brow. “I haven’t made a final decision yet,” he admitted after a weighty pause. “Senalla is a treasure, deserving of the utmost devotion. But if anyone were worthy of her affections, it would be Prince Blythe.”
A hint of genuine respect tinged his words as he spoke the prince’s name. “He is a paragon of virtue, the young man walks among us, listens to our dreams. He embodies the kindness of the great king, Eldorin.”
Karmina felt a surge of surprise and admiration at Cisiad’s high praise. To be compared to Eldorin, the beloved ruler from generations past renowned for his benevolence, spoke volumes of Prince Blythe’s character.
“But before reaching a decision, I must confer with my wife,” Cisiad admitted, a hint of sorrow flickering across his weathered features. “The thought of our youngest daughter leaving us fills our hearts with both pride and sorrow. Our nest will finally be empty.”
“Well,” Feliks said, his voice ringing eagerly to move past the melancholy moment. “May good fortune shine upon you, no matter the outcome.” He placed a gentle hand on Karmina’s uninjured arm, guiding her towards the far side of the bustling square where a large announcement board stood proudly displayed. “Enjoy the day, Constable Cisiad.”
“Be sure Karmina is taken care of, Feliks,” the lawman called after them sternly as he guided his chestnut mare back into the flow of crowded streets.
“Yes, sir!” Feliks shouted over his shoulder in acknowledgment before plunging with Karmina deeper into the exuberant crowds.
As they navigated the dense crowd, Karmina couldn’t shake the unease that had taken root in her heart. The king’s proclamation involving Prince Blythe loomed large, and with it, the fear of failure, of not measuring up, clawed at her. Could she truly stand out enough to catch the prince’s eye amidst all the other maidens vying for his affection?
The crowd swallowed them in a raucous human tapestry. Each step forward required careful finesse, a delicate dance of muttered “pardons” and whispered “excuse me’s” to shield against unintended collisions and aggravations.
“Wait your turn!” a disembodied voice cried out irritably nearby, momentarily disrupting the frantic rhythm.
“Mind your manners! Don’t shove me!” another irate voice retorted from somewhere unseen.
Feliks forged ahead, deftly weaving through the final multitude of townsfolk, with Karmina clutching the back of his shirt to avoid being swept away. Each inadvertent jostle to her injured shoulder sent a fresh burst of fiery agony through her, but she gritted her teeth against any outward display of pain or complaint.
At last, the large wooden announcement board loomed before them, flanked by stern-faced royal guards standing silent vigil to ensure the precious parchment remained untouched by eager hands. Karmina’s gaze was immediately drawn to the top, where the regal emblem of the king held pride of place—a striking falcon clutching a lightning bolt and scroll in its talons, an homage to their lineage’s legacy.
Memories of the kingdom’s mystic origins surfaced unbidden in Karmina’s mind. The line of kings had sprung from powerful magicians versed in the mystical Thal’miren arts. Ghaehi, Mýthgar’s first king and progenitor, had been a master of the arcane, able to command lightning to dance at his whim through a lifelong pursuit of knowledge and power. His influence had shaped their capital into the sprawling, formidable city it was today.
Unlike his ancestors, the current King Liones Nealerois lacked such Thal’miren gifts. But his two sons carried the weight of their bloodline’s powers. The elder Prince Kirien, the heir to the throne, possessed a formidable Thal’miren mastery over Aerendil—the ability to manipulate inanimate objects with his mind alone. The younger Prince Blythe’s talent lay in empathic understanding, granting him intuition into people’s hearts and even physical well-being at times. This profound gift that once saved the king’s life endeared Blythe to the people.
Karmina studied the announcement with rising trepidation, wondering if there was a way to set herself apart in what was sure to be an extraordinary competition for the prince’s hand. Would they seek someone with her dark brown hair and slim build? Or would other physical attributes and talents be preferred—eloquence, grace, the ability to entrance esteemed guests as a princess must?
The hundreds of unspoken questions swirled in her mind, amplifying her doubts and insecurities. Could she possibly measure up to the high expectations sure to come with such a summons?
