Chapter 1
Dear Diary,
The words of my parents are still echoing in my ears from last night, “Don’t let us down Ariella, the future of your kingdom depends on you”. I tossed and turned all night, their warning replaying in my mind. Today is going to be one of the most important days I ever have as a ruler. Today is the day I meet my potential husband. My parents invited three suitors to Edoria that they believe will save our beloved kingdom from chaos and turmoil. Although I am still unsure of my parent’s true motives for inviting the princes: to save the kingdom or to save me.
I often doubt my ability to be a proper ruler. I feel that I do not embody the confidence and strength of the being a ruler. I am not sure if I can handle the responsibility and sacrifices required to be a leader like my parents. But, I do not get a choice in the matter, I am the only Edorian princess, the only direct descendant of the Mantero line. It is my duty to serve my kingdom and save them. By doing so, I save myself by avoiding the disappointment and shame from my parents, who often say they would rather be dead than to see my cousin, Lord Nethering, take the thrown if I were to abdicate. So, it is time to do what I have done for the past twenty years of my life, push all the feelings away, put a smile on my face, and go do what is expected of me, regardless of how I may feel about it.
-Ariella
I shut my diary with an audible thud, placing it by my side on the daybed I sat it. My eyes shift to gaze at beautiful scenery of an Edorian spring. The treetops that stretch beyond the towering stone walls of the palace radiate rich tones of green. Looking down to the palace grounds, I see groups of guards running drills on the training grounds. Usually, I would be out there with them or practicing my archery techniques, but my royal duties started taking precedence since the announcement that the princes were coming to Edoria. For the past few weeks, each of my mornings include studying the histories of each of the visiting prince’s countries, standing long hours for dress fittings, or listening to my parents’ lectures about the imperativeness of making a good impression for the future king of Edoria. I am truly envious of those guards.
Standing from the daybed, I place my diary, quill, and ink on the vanity. The sparkles of my new cyan blue dress catch my eye in the mirror’s reflection. My typical wardrobe is not as flashy. I’d much rather be in breeches and a tunic or a simple dress rathe than something this gaudy. But my parent’s insisted that my outfits be nothing less than perfect. The dress hugs my average-sized body framing, sinching at the waist, right where my chestnut-brown, wavy hair falls. The sparkly blue gown highlights my brown eyes and freckles on my alabaster skin. The sleeves of the gown fit like a second skin, accentuating the muscles in my arms, earned from many hours of archery practice.
As I glance into the mirror, I practice my deceptive smile. Based on that smile alone, one would assume that I am a carefree princess, overjoyed at the thought of choosing my husband and becoming queen. This smile conceals the tumultuousness of emotions consuming my every thought of every moment of every waking day. Everyone who sees me doesn’t know the that I carry the burden of not only what is expected of me, but the many fears I harbor inside.
My kingdom is dying. For the past three years, a disastrous poison named “The Bare Death” has been plaguing the crop fields throughout the providences. It earned its dark nickname because no crop can survive once they have been touched by the rot, nor can it be contained. In the past three years alone, almost half of the fields that feed the entire kingdom are rendered useless. In one of the few outings that my parents and I went on in the past few years, we passed by one of the fields affected by The Bare Death. Seeing the field nearly made me sick to my stomach. passed by that field countless times in the past; to see it stripped down to nothing was heartbreaking.
My people are hungry, furious because there is not solution yet. My parents are equally as frustrated. No other kingdom in the lands is experiencing the same rot. The king and queen consulted every single botanist and plant expert willing to come to Edoria, but they all provided the same answer: this is a new unstoppable rot. Once I become queen, it will be my responsibility to find a solution for my people, but the odds were not looking good. Crop yields are becoming low enough that they will not sustain the kingdom’s population. Old trading partners in other kingdoms that knew our secret turn their backs on us, fearful that we will also inflict them with the same fate. My parents’ temporary solution is to join with another kingdom through marriage. Now that I am of marrying age, it seemed like the perfect plan. However, there is one crucial detail that my parents are unaware of when they were formulating their plan: I can’t get married, not after happened five years ago, worst day of my life.
I was fifteen years old at the time. Edoria enduring many decades of peace and prosperity. That all slowly started change after the night I was almost kidnapped, the night of the Harvest Moon Ball. Every year in the autumn, guests throughout Edoria’s four providences, Vale, Wasian, Buldon, and Ridas, would travel to the palace, located in the center of the kingdom, just outside the town of Chesea, ready to celebrate the prosperity of the year. This ball used to be my favorite evening of the year. There would be dancing, celebrating, lavish outfits, and copious amounts of food and drink.
That night was just like any other party. I danced with the guests until the early hours of the morning. After I had gone to sleep that night, a man somehow snuck into my room and pulled me out of my bed. I didn’t realize he gotten into my room until his hands were around my throat, ripping the covers away from my body. He about six feet tall, broad shoulders, with long, shoulder-lengthed blonde hair. The man held a knife to my throat, threatened my life if I were to scream or run from him. Even to this day, his piercing blue eyes of his gaze haunt my nightmares.
Frozen with fear, I let the man lead me away from my room. I didn’t dare breath of walk too loudly, terrified it would cost me my life. The Harvest Moon Ball is still in full swing. Everyone laughed, drank, and danced in Great Hall. Most of the guards ended up joining the festivities. No one realized I was being taken. We made it all the way to the stables. It appeared the man already had a horse ready to lead us to our escape. I was petrified with fear at the possibility of this man taking me, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
Just before he mounted the horse, he stopped, looking at me from head to toe in my thin, white nightgown. Something changed in his eyes at that moment. He prowled over to me, wrestling me to the ground as I tried to defend myself. Then he raped me. I had no control over what happened. His strong arms and legs pinned me down. He kept a hand over my mouth to muffle my screams and sobs. The man laughed at my attempts to struggle away from him. By the time he was finished, the guards realized that I was gone and were making their way to the stables. My attacker fled, living me, trembling in the same spot he assaulted me until the guards found me.
To this day, my parents still believe that I was alright after that night, that I just barely escaped a kidnapping. Nobody knows the details of what happened. I feel too much shame and embarrassment about that night to dare share it with another soul. I worry about my parents’ reactions, things like this don’t happen to a princess like me. What happened to me could shame the Mantero name, make me appear unfit to rule the next Edorian queen. Having no one to rule is the last problem my kingdom needs to concern itself with.
One of the prominent side effects from my attack was a strong fear and uneasiness around men that I didn’t know. Dancing and parties transformed from my favorite part of being a royal, to the most dreaded part. Being the object of attention for men attending the events made me feel uneasy with worry, would they try to take advantage of me next? The feeling only grew worse when I was forced to dance with them. Oftentimes, I would need to excuse myself because feelings of panic would bubble up inside of me. I felt trapped when I was pressed against their bodies, suffering horridly vivid flashbacks of my attack. My heart raced, my palms sweat, I couldn’t breathe, and I could not think clearly enough or have the strength to act as if everything was okay. Even as time passed, the panic episodes still occur every once in a while. It took practice, but after that night, I learned how to put on a fake, disingenuous smile so that everyone around me believe that I was fine. They are oblivious to the wounds that run much deeper beneath the surface.
Knocking at my door interrupts my thoughts. A guard walks in, “Your Highness, your father requests your presence in his study immediately, I am here to escort you when you are ready.”
Straightening the tiara on my head, I follow him out the door obediently as we trek to the other side of the castle. Servants bustle around the castle doing last minute cleaning and polishing in every corner and crevice of the palace. Many years passed since we have had guest at the palace. My parents would not let them doubt for one second that everything wasn’t nearly perfect here in Edoria.
An influx of guards from the royal army are another addition to the palace as of recent. They constantly ran through safety protocols and could be found at their posts around every corner. My parents warned me this would happen. They were increasing security around the palace to prevent any attacks from The Rebellion. This angry group of Edorian citizens believe that The Bare Death will be cured if my family is overthrown, and a new, more competent ruler is established. We were not fully aware of their existence not long after The Bare Death came to Edoria. It is rumored, however, that the dissent from this group started many years prior, The Bare Death became their platform to legitimize their anger towards the crown.
Thankfully the group is much smaller now as many villagers moved to nearby kingdoms, but they have become more radical. Within the past year, several of the group’s attempts at my parents’ and my assassination have been foiled by palace guards. The king and queen worry that such a display of wealth and glamor in order to charm the princes would anger the Rebellion more, inspiring more attacks, but this was a risk my parents felt it was necessary to take in order to save the kingdom.
Since the origins of The Rebellion, my family and I rarely leave the palace for safety purposes, along with reducing the number of parties and balls thrown at the palace. My parents don’t want to provide any unnecessary opportunities for them to infiltrate the palace once more. It gets lonely at times, being confined to the palace walls, but I am grateful for the additional precautions. It means fewer interactions with men, a less likely chance that I will be kidnapped again or killed, and a lesser chance I will overwhelmed with panic on a daily basis.
The guard and I approach the entrance to my father’s study. The guard knocks at the door for me. The king’s voice beckons us to come in. I walk past the guard holding the door open for me and into the study. The spacious room is illuminated by candles and natural light flooding in from the two giant windows on the left wall. Ahead of me lies two large maroon chairs that reside in front of an enormous stone fireplace. Floor to ceiling bookcases line the wall to my right, filled with an endless supply of books and Edorian relics that have been passed down through our family for generations.
My father, King Stefan, currently sits at his desk, his tired, brown eyes focusing on the papers in front of him. He doesn’t look up as the guards shut the door. The king scratches his chin underneath his brown beard, which in the past few years, has become peppered with grey and white. The regal crown that sits on his head covers most of the thinning brown strands of hair that lie on his head, although a few tend to escape around his ears.
After another moment or so of silence, my father puts down the papers and turns his attention to me, “Ariella,” he greets me.
“You wanted to see me, father?”
Stefan stands from his desk and makes his way around to the front of it, stretching out his long, burly frame. From the looks of it, he might have been in that chair for most of the morning, if not all night, “Yes, I wanted to check in before the princes arrive this afternoon, to make sure you were prepared.”
Translation, he wanted to make sure that I wasn’t going to mess up the plan he and my mother worked tirelessly on formulating, “Of course, Father, I have been attending lessons in history and etiquette along with dress fittings for the past few weeks, just as you asked” I respond, my heart dropping a bit.
Leave it to my father to only be concerned about me meeting his expectations. Rarely is there any talk of my own feelings or wants. Both of my parents are typically like this, always preoccupied with their wants and needs, or the kingdoms, instead of my own. It’s worsened in the past few years since the onset of The Bare Death. I empathize that they are nervous about the future of the kingdom, but that should not negate their only child’s feelings and happiness.
“Very good. I need not remind you of the severity of this situation Ariella. It is up to you to choose the suitor that will save the kingdom. Mistakes of any kind could disrupt this plan, so ensure that they don’t happen. The consequences will be far worse than you could ever imagine.” My father warns crossing back over to his desk to attend the mountains of papers.
“Yes, father.” I reply.
I know I am dismissed, but for a few seconds I freeze, overwhelmed with the emotions that are building up in my chest. The unfairness of the situation consumes me. Nobody asks me if this is something that I want. Nobody asks me if this something is I can even do. Nobody knows how much the attack from five years ago still haunts me to this very day. But I push down those feelings of anger, sadness, and frustration with a smile as I exit his study. I will deal with these emotions tonight, in the comfort of my own bed, where no one can see me.
As I walk through the corridor towards my room, I can feel the panic building more and more. Maybe this couldn’t wait until tonight. My mind races at the thought that I need to choose a husband. The day is finally here, it is no longer a figment of imagination. I am barely comfortable being close to a man. I am nowhere near ready to interact with these princes and choose a stranger to be my husband. The feelings of helplessness, lack of control, and vulnerability build and build as my heart starts to pound faster, my breathing becomes short and ragged. Another panic episode was happening.
I duck into a nearby alcove, falling to the floor out of sight of servants and guards who might be rushing by. The pressure is too much. The expectations that are set for me are pushing me down, making it harder and harder for me to catch my breath. I close my eyes as my thoughts start racing, bouncing between focusing on my inability to breathe and the choices that I must make in the next few days. This shaping up to be one of the worst attacks I’ve suffered in many months.
In the midst of my panic, I feel the presence of someone else enter the alcove. The panic is too great for me to be able to stand up straight and present myself as my parents would expect me too. My head is buried in my hands as tears begin to escape.
“Your Highness” the male voice says. I don’t respond, my short breath won’t allow any words to escape.
“Your Highness, you need to breathe,” he says.
“I can’t,” I manage to choke out between sobs.
“Yes, you can princess. Breathe in through your nose, hold for a few seconds and out through your mouth,” he instructs in a gentle voice.
I follow his advice. After a few minutes and many tries, my breathing starts to resemble something of a normal rhythm.
“Very good, Your Highness. Now just focus on my voice and keep breathing.”
As my breathing starts to slow, I finally get the courage to look up from my hands, at the person who saved me from one of the worst panics I have experienced in the past few months. The black shirt and grey pant uniform that he wears reveals that he is a servant. Despite crouching down to my level, I can tell he is tall, towering well over my own height. His shaggy, curly brown hair frames his oval face perfectly. I then stare into the most beautiful pair of aquamarine blue eyes I have ever seen. The man seems to be around my age or just a little older. He nearly takes my breath away after I worked so hard getting back under control. The servant smiles at me, “Are you feeling better Your Highness?”
I clear my throat and respond, “Yes, thank you so much for that. It was very kind of you to help me through that. You have a gift for it.”
“My mother gets them frequently, so I have a fair bit of practice at it.”
The servant holds out his hands, for mine, steadying me back on my feet. He stands up straighter, adjusting his uniform, “I apologize Your Highness, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Nathanial Lark,” he says, bowing deeply.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Nathanial,” I reply with a smile, composing myself back to the princess expected by my parents.
“The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace. If you will excuse me, I must be back to my chores. I do hope that you feel better soon.”
I watch as he ducks out of the alcove and makes his way towards the center of the palace. I am shaken. Nathanial was able to calm my panic so easily. Usually, a male presence makes it worse, not better. There is something different about him. He is the first person to see the cracks in the perfect image that I try so hard to create. He acknowledged it, yet didn’t make me feel as if I was any less for it. He is the first person to make me feel something that I have not felt in over five years and feared I would never feel again, something that I crave more desperately every single day, safety.
