The Letter
Baltimore, Ireland — Year 847
The gulls shrieked over the harbor, their calls cutting through the damp, salted, heavy air that clung to the gravel below. From the cabin’s small wooden window, I could hear the swell of voices outside. The whispering unfolded into shouts, and the shouts turned into cheers.
“I can’t believe the prince is out here again! He’s rarely does greetings anymore—especially after what happened with the castle next door.”
“I heard that the King might be finding a princess for the prince to take the throne.” Whispers grew intensely with very few furtive glances and occasional squealing or sharp gasps. Faces pressed close to one another, their eyes darting to the two riders. A few women hid their blushes behind their feather fans, while the others didn’t bother hiding the dreamy glances they cast at the royal pair.
Through the windows, with their broken-down wooden slats, I caught sight of them: King Edric Windsor, perched high and stiff on his white stallion, his face rounded with an expression that pretended to be warm. Beside him was Prince Lucas Windsor, while he rode a dapple-gray horse. His posture was a bit looser than the king’s but was still tightly put together. His gaze scanned the crowd as he waved. The horses’ hooves clattered sharply on the cobblestone, scattering dust and loose straw into the air.
Banners followed behind them from their saddles, flashing the royal crest in gold thread for all to see.
I shook my head at the overly excited cheering, pulling my attention away from the window. I wasn’t the type to get swept into their lies anymore. Not after everything.
By the time the noise died down into a distant hum, I sat up on my knees, sweeping the back of my wetted hand across my forehead, wiping away the sweat that lay upon it. I stood up, my knees aching and stiff from being on them for too long. Dust clung to my ripped and splotched skirt as I tried to brush it off.
Miss Luna, one of the townsfolk in whom I sometimes work for, stepped into the room. Her frame was small, with her wrapped in her usual patched dress and tiny black shoes. She clasped her wrinkled hands tight in front of her.
“How did the greeting go?” I said mockingly, leaning down to pick up the bucket of dirty water. I placed the bucket down onto the table, ringing out the rag that was dripping with water.
Her clouded eyes light up with delight, “It was wonderful, just wonderful. You truly missed out on seeing such a handsome man miss Inara.” She said in a teasing tone. I smirked, tilting my gaze away from hers.
“I’m sure I didn’t miss much. It’s normally the same every time. They come trampling in, wave and leave.” I pushed out a laugh through my lips, laying the damp rag down onto the bucket. Wiping my hands onto my dirty apron, I turned towards the elderly woman. “Well, miss Luna, I’ll be heading out now.” She perked up, rummaging her hand through her ripped pocket.
“Here, sweetheart.” She said, shuffling her way towards me with her outstretched hand. “For your troubles.” Once she reached me, she scooped up my hands into hers, pressing a few coins into my palm.
“I really can’t take this, Luna. You need it way more than I do.” I said, gently pushing them back towards her.
“Oh, what a thoughtful young lady.” She said, smiling, patting the back of my hand, “You’d make such a lovely wife.” I gave a faint laugh, slipping away from her, going towards the door.
Waving her goodbye, I stepped into the heavy press of bodies still lingering in the area. The air reeked of horses and sweat. People clutched at the memories of their royals as if it was something worth keeping. I ducked and wove through them, ignoring the scraps of conversation about Lucas’s hair, or the king’s smile, or even worse, the possibility of a royal wedding.
Beyond the square, the streets grew quieter, narrower. The stones started to get uneven beneath my shoes.
As I kept walking, I passed by some broken stalls and Fallen fences, which happened to be near the bakery, where the scent of burnt crust lingered. My father and I went a lot when I was younger, but it’s never as busy as it was before. The further I went, the quieter it got, with my cottage waiting at the end of the lane. Its roof sagging under years of neglect, Ivy crawling up its sides as though trying to pull the cottage into the earth. This was my home. Even with it staying up on its last brick, this is where we’ve always stayed.
It was passed down for generations up until my great-great-great-grandma, who was apparently royalty. My family’s last ties to royalty were then severed when we lost the final scraps of our fortune. Leaving us far too poor to even claim the illusion of being wealthy.
Which is why we are struggling to even come up with money to keep the cottage. I pushed open the warped wooden door and stopped.
My parents stood in the narrow front room, as though they had been waiting for me. My father’s eyes scanned my face with something unreadable, worry perhaps, urgency? My mother’s gaze was fixed on me, with her hands clasped tightly around a single cream-colored envelope.
The air was heavy with questions and concern. The envelope she had in her hands was thick, while the paper looked expensive. The edges were pressed smooth. A red wax seal gleamed at the center. The marking is easily recognizable as being royal.
The kind of letter that didn’t arrive at our house without consequence. My mother’s knuckles whitened as her grip tightened.
“Inara.” She said softly, her voice trembling just enough for me to hear it. “This came for you.” The room suddenly seemed smaller. I stepped closer, my eyes locking onto the seal. My pulse picking up speed as if I already knew whatever lay inside would change everything.
