Chapter One:
Lady Freya Duran’s POV:
Age: 7
I run through the tall grass, free in the hot summer sun, far from the castle walls. My footsteps thud upon the ground, kicking up dirt and grass. My black hair flows as I run. My hazel eyes stare back, looking behind me.
Lord Thomas Clayton, a boy my own age runs not far behind me. He shouts for me to slow down, not behind able to keep up. Mother had told me that one day I will be his bride. I will live in a castle, have pretty dresses and one day be a mother to his babies. This pleases me. It makes me happy to spend time with him. I will be Lady Freya Clayton. We continue to run, happy.
Day would turn to night in the kingdom of Reahaven.
Surrounded by trees and the stars in the sky, we watch as soldiers dressed top to bottom in thick steel armor make their way down the road, seen only by the torches they each carry with one hand, a shield on the other and a steel blade sheathed on their belts. With the determined look on their faces and intense appearances, they are the perfect image of power, strength and bravery. I wonder where they are off to. These soldiers belong to the King, as they wear the crest of a raven, the King’s crest.
As the sun vanishes, we move into the small dining hall, filled with only a few long tables that are filled with other nobles and their families as well as ours. I spend the next hours feasting on chicken, berries and rice. I watch as the noble and royal ladies of the court dance, moving fluidly about the dance floor. Each woman is coated in jewels, shimmering with each move. I wish to join them someday, to be as graceful and to look as elegant.
Soon my royal nanny makes her way towards me.
Unhappy, I refuse to get up.
When she tries to quietly pull me away, I slam my foot on hers. She shrieks in surprise, causing nearly every head in the hall to turn in our direction.
Father’s angry face stares down at me.
“Get to bed before I have you paddled, girl.” He whispers, furious.
“I’m seven. I’m too old for that.”
He raises an eyebrow, eyes like daggers.
“You want to bet?”
I look down.
“Now you turn to Nanny Grace and apologize for your foolishness.”
I turn to the nanny.
“I’m sorry, Nanny Grace.”
“Thank you, Lady Freya. Come on, off to bed.”
“Goodnight, Father.”
“Goodnight.”
I stand and wait.
“If she tries such a thing again, inform me immediately.” Father tells her
“As you wish, my Lord.”
1 ½ Years Later
Age 8.5
The peasants in the street and nobles in the crowd bow as my Father passes.
He, the Advisor of the King.
My father carries a dark presence not only for his height and mannerisms but of his acts within the kingdom. Criminals within the walls of the kingdom went from the dungeon to the blade and then the ground. I heard of many gruesome acts done at his command. I had become old enough to gain a position at court as the cup barer to the King. The King’s daughter became the scribe to the King, learning under her Father, for if she became a Queen, she may need the power and skill that comes with being royal blood.
I curtsy before my Father.
“Freya. Where is your mother?” He asks greeting me
I turn to where Mother stands.
She looks elegant in her white gown.
Her belly is stretched, a babe soon to be born from her womb.
A sibling.
After three long years of trying…
Mother glows in the light of the full moon above us.
“Father, can I go watch the knights train?”
He turns back to me and shakes his head.
“But Father-” I begin to protest
“I have made my decision.”
