(TW- violence)
Ardwin, Kate and Grace prance into my room, interrupting me half way through my proposal, closely followed by Iris who carries a large dress bag. Grace goes straight to my six-story huge make-up drawer to pick out what she'll use on me whilst Ardwin goes to inspect my dress that Iris leaves on the chair.
"Well, it's floral I can tell you that." She laughs at my deadpan stare, holding her hands up.
"Hey, I'm not the designer putting you in all these patterns."
A laugh escapes me as I'm sat in the chair infront of the wide vanity, "Thank the gods for that. Or else you'd be burned to a crisp."
In reality I still haven't been able to conjure flames bigger than my hand. The Queen says it'll take time, but shouldn't a year be enough?
Bens powers have developed fully, he's already working out in the East, doing hydrotherapy with horses out by our grandparents farm.
The process of getting ready takes an hour and a half, in which time I munch on some fresh bread Ardwin stole from the kitchens for me whilst finishing a first draft of the proposal.
It'll be a late night tonight,
The makeup Grace strategically placed on my cheeks and eyes helps fill my face back out, the stain on my lips bringing some life back into me, disguising my weight loss over the past year.
Even my eyes have dimmed, now looking more sandy brown rather than their old vivid amber gold.
Kate hands me the high necked dress and I change into it quickly, the endless yellow fabric swallowing me beneath the layers of sewn on flowers, making me look younger than I did when I first got here.
My eighteenth birthday was filled with pleasantries, royals from other countries and having to dance with every eligible bachelor in the nation.
I place the delicate tiara onto my head as I finish off the bread and walk out of my room into the hallway towards Peter, in a full tux, blonde hair slicked back.
Something seems off today; the servants steaming every curtain or tablecloth, the maids scurrying about making everything look presentable and the monarchs being no where to be found.
Pulling on the tight, high neck on my dress, Peter sends me a sympathetic glance.
We walk downstairs, me having somehow mastered the art of walking in six inch heels already, and Peter spraying his mouth with peppermint.
The grand dining room is set out to the max, with gold laced green decor set out over every possible space.
Gods, whoever the woman sat at the head of the table is she must be important.
The woman has black hair so dark it seems to suck the light from around her, with eyes of dull brown and a wide, blood-red smile. Something about her feels familiar, but not in a way which comforts you, like confusing fireworks for gunshots, or a dog for a wolf.
Something fundamental in me shifts, the amulet around my neck thrumming against me like a second heartbeat.
"Hello, Princess." Her blood-red lips weave into a sly smile, her nails that look more like talons than anything wrapping around her glass.
Her voice is like an ancient song, like a lovers caress, soft and promising.
My eyes find hers suspiciously, as a servant pulls out the chair on the opposite end from her on the more intimately small table.
Something tells me this dinner is not going to be like the others.
I monitor the people at the table for six, who I'm assuming is the queen from another country sits opposite me at the head, lounging as if she rules the world; to her right is Queen Natalie sitting straight backed as always, and to the lounging monarch left a short, midnight haired female with sharp eyes, clad in black.
YOU ARE READING
The Shadow of Royalty
Fantasy"I don't know if I should kiss you or stab you." - Aurelia Cartozen Aria was chosen. There was no denying it and certainly no escaping it. She was chosen for the sacred role as a Regalas, forced into the deadly ranks of the elite royals, and she has...
