A cursed mystery

Chapter 1 : Barley Moon

In a calm sea, by a distant shore, a faint white barley moon lingered in the dawn sky. The peaceful island of Elithia was awakening for the day. She stood alone and proud in the sea, most dancing around her like a sheer veil, revealing domed turrets which were smooth as pebbles washed up from the sea. A single straight causeway led from the mainland to the island. For two miles, it struck a sure line through the water, then joined a road at the island, where it ran past the 'peasants' houses, the bright silks of the circus and the dark shapes of the mulberry trees, directly to the palace.

At the palace, it met a tiled walkway lined with freestanding carved columns, bay trees clipped into perfect spheres and gentle flowing channels of water that were more decorative than defensive. Two knights, wearing tabards of green and purple, stood guard by the high arched gateway. Above, in princess Celene's room on the first floor, pale light slanted through the lattice window, casting a starry pattern upon her coverlet.

She was running away, feet pounding on the hard ground, heart thumping in her chest. She couldn't see the pursuer. She knew that she had to get away, far from all people that she held dear. Otherwise this thing would hurt them too. She was alone, guilty and afraid. She swung around, ready to face whatever it was. She was brave; she could fight this threat. But she was not prepared for the sound of splintering glass.

Celene awoke and looked over to the side of her bed to see her water carafe in jagged pieces on the floor. She must have knocked it off the nightstand as she turned in her sleep. She sat up, adjusting to reality, her heart still pounding. Why did she keep having that one foolish dream? She wasn't a dreaming sort of person, yet this one persisted, coming back to haunt her every few weeks.

The doors to the chamber opened a crack and Hester, the maid, poked her head around it.

"I heard a crash, Your Highness!" She said, looking into the room aghast, as if the ceiling had fallen down.

Celene sighed. "It was the water carafe, I'm afraid."

"No matter ma'am, I'll soon get that cleaned up." She walked in, carrying a silver breakfast tray.

Celene made to get out of bed, but Hester tutted at the sight of her bare feet. "Careful ma'am, you don't want to cut yourself on the glass. Let me sweep this up and I'll pour you some fresh water for your morning wash."

She set down the tray on the dresser and rushed forward with a pair of embroided slippers, then scurried to the fireplace to fetch the hearth brush and shovel. She continued tutting loudly as she swept up the broken glass.

"Thank you Hester, what time is it?" Celene slid her feet into the slippers, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Hester lowered her gaze and focused her attention on her task. "Just a little after sunrise, ma'am."

"After sunrise? Good heavens, Hester, why in the king's name didn't you wake me before?"

"When I popped my head in to check, you were tossing and turning and I felt sure you were having that dream again, ma'am - the one that you always have when the moon is full. I didn't like to wake you as it tired you so. This month is the barley moon, which is especially strong—"

"—What are you talking about, Hester? The dream comes randomly, not with a full moon!"

"You'd be surprised, ma'am. I might not be learned with my schoolbooks but I notice patterns like that. And I know dreams that come regularly, they mean something. Or they foretell something important—"

Celene waved her hand dismissively, she couldn't listen to Hester's ramblings upon waking. "I have no time for this! I have been asked to be woken no later than sunrise. I like to be at the training ground as early as possible. Help me on with my things, will you?"

"What about your wash, Your Highness? Let me brush your hair, at least."

"No time for that." Celene's hair didn't need brushing. She kept it in a practical, sharp, chin-length style that fell into place by itself.

Her leather training armour was hanging ready in the dressing room. Celene wore it every day, unless she required chain mail for a tournament, or formalwear for some other royal occasion. Celene put on her soft leggings and linen undershirt. Hester helped her into the padded doublet and bulkier leather garments.

Hester continued fussing as she strapped the backplate to the breastplate. "You are loosing weight. You should eat. I knew you wouldn't want a cooked breakfast but I brought you something light." She bustled back to the dresser. "Here, have some tea. It's ginger."

Hester poured a cup of the pale liquid and passed it to Celene, who took a grateful swig. Then the princess plucked a round, sweet roll from the section on the breakfast tray, wrapped in a linen napkin and put in in her pocket.

"Do take a little more than that," suggested Hester, holding out a bowl of sliced pear, but Princess Celene shook her head, smiling. "I like a portable breakfast." Hester sighed and returned to the broken glass, squinting to make sure she'd picked up every tiny particle.

Celene left her bedchamber and ran down the stairs as quickly as she could.

Word count - 925 words.