Chapter 1
A NOTE TO READERS:
I'm just trying a new genre out! Please don't hate on it too much. High Fantasy Fiction is kind of intimidating, people. So, please tell me what you think! Leave comments and a review if you feel like it! Thanks everyone!
I put on a long red dress to fit in with the people in the palace. The curls in my hair were natural so I hadn't needed to spend time on those. Mila put golden hair pins in to hold it back on the sides. My favorite hair pin was the glass one, that sparkled in my dark hair.
I looked over to Mila as she explained the plan to get inside the palace. "Myrcella? Are you paying attention to anything I'm saying?" Mila asked me.
"Yes, I'm listening, but please can you just get to the point?" I asked her. We'd been going over this plan for months. I was going to break into the palace and kill the prince.
The king killed our family. So we were going to kill his. Mila was my older sister, and she took the loss of our parents greatly. Our mother and father were thieves, but they only stole what they needed. But one morning, my dad took a watch from the wrong person. From the queen. When he tried to slip it back to her, her guards noticed and dragged him to the palace. My mom went with my father for support. The king sentenced them both to death.
The plan was to get inside the palace without being noticed, then make it to the prince's chambers and kill him. I had three weeks to accomplish this plan. If I didn't get caught by then...
"Myrcella, this is important. The monster of a king needs to learn how it feels to lose someone. To lose family..." Mila's voice cracked and I saw her eyes water.
"Mila, if this is your plan, why am I the one doing it?" I asked her for the thousandth time. I wasn't ready to kill someone.
"I'm not ready for it." She said simply.
"Perhaps, neither am I. Besides, you're older than me," I reminded her.
"You're seventeen, Myr," Mila said. I hated that nickname. Myr it sounded like mur, like a boy's nickname.
"Yes, and you're nineteen."
"Stop arguing with me. You know the plan. Take father's dagger," she said, and handed the hilt to me. I looked at the diamond incrusted hilt and wondered whom he had stolen this from.
"Goodbye, Mila," I said, pulling her close for an embrace.
"Don't say goodbye. I can't lose you too... Come back safely, Myr. I love you," Mila said and I waited until she let go of me before I left our house.
Anyone was allowed to visit the king and queen. Just not everyone actually got to speak with them. The people just complained about their problems while the royal family barely listened. I wasn't going to speak with them, nor did I want to see them. The only person I wanted to see was the prince. I needed to catch his attention. So then he would ask me to the ball in two weeks. That's when I would kill him. If I missed the chance then, I'd get him to invite me to his chambers, within the next week. Then I'd kill him.
The king and queen had two children. Two princes. Prince Bolton, who was twenty years of age, and his younger brother, Prince Caldwell, who was nineteen years of age. Prince Caldwell was my target since he was closer to my age, so it should be less difficult.
I looked around the room I was in. It was filled with people, guards standing at all exits from the room. It was hard to tell the order of the line, but it was clear to see where it was heading by all the eager heads facing the massive doors. I wasn't trying to get through those doors though, because that's where the king and queen were.
There. I found my entrance, a vent. I needed a distraction, I drifted closer to the vent near the ground and I took out my glass hair pin and tossed it through the crowd of people and made my move the second I heard it shatter. The vent was easy to open and once I was inside, I moved as far away from that room as I could.
I found the end of the vent and opened it and crawled out. I ended up on the marble floor of the nicest hallway I had ever seen. My dress was a tad bit wrinkled on the ends, but it should be fine.
"Are you okay, miss?" I turned my head to see two young men walking towards me.
"Bolton, we do not have time for this," said the younger looking one. Bolton. Prince Bolton. I immediately tried to look helpless.
"I think I've twisted my ankle," I said, covering it with my dress, so they wouldn't look too closely.
"I'll get a guard to escort you to the infirmary," Prince Caldwell said. I couldn't be taken to the infirmary by a guard, they'd know I wasn't supposed to be inside the palace.
I tried to stand up, but tripped on my dress and as I was preparing to hit the ground, I felt strong arms catch me. "May I escort you to the palace infirmary?" Prince Bolton looked at me. I was surprised at how strong he was. He was still holding me and I was enjoying it too much to remind him.
"You may, Your Royal Highness," I said addressing him properly.
"Call me Bolton. What's your name?" He asked me.
"Myrcella," I told him as I tried to take a step back, but remembered my fake twisted ankle. So I reached out for his arm for support. Instead he picked me up, bridal style.
"I think I'll just carry you, Myrcella. It appears you can't walk nor stand," Bolton said.
"Bolt, we have a meeting to be at. Have a guard escort her," the other prince said, paying me no attention.
"Cald, you'll have to go to the meeting without me. Tell them I had an emergency."
"I'm an awful liar, though," Prince Caldwell said.
"It'll be fine. No one pays you much attention anyway," Bolton told him and I giggled at that. He looked down at me and grinned.
Prince Caldwell looked over at me and his eyes widened. "Alright, update me on how she feels later, brother," he said and walked away. I didn't know why he looked at me the way he did, but hopefully whatever I did was enough for him to ask me to the ball.
"Are you comfortable?" Prince Bolton asked me as he carried me down the hallway.
"Yes, very. Thank you for asking," I answered. Maybe I could have a little fun before I killed a prince.
This is very good so far! I love it! Just a question. will she be a strong female character? I was just wondering