Counting Dawns

Chapter One

No!”

The princess stared in horror at her mother, willing the stone floor to open up and swallow her.

“Now, Abella! We’ve discussed this before! We are virtually ruined! The Asanrii have attacked our merchants more than once and that in itself spells disaster!”

Abella bit her lip. She knew the Asanrii well. Even the thought of Them froze her heart with fear. Images of pirates, assassins, masked men slashing their swords viciously at innocent townsfolk, flitted through her head.

Queen Lydianna noted her daughter’s anxious look with pleasure and continued to whine at her:

“With your father dead, you are next in line to rule Lesskott. Your cousin, Janque is doing a fine job on his own, but if you don’t marry, our whole family will perish!” the widowed queen’s voice grew to the piercing wail that had driven her husband crazy.

Abella at once wished she hadn’t protested. She stared down at the floor, fingering a stray black lock of hair that had escaped from her loose braid.

“But Mother, I don’t love him,” she whispered. Her mother stared at her.

“Love him? Love him?” she shrieked. “Who cares about love, child? You’ve been reading far too many books. It’s high time you married. You’re sixteen now and I was married at the same age. Duke Silcombe has offered a high price for you and I’m willing to take up his offer.  Now quit your moaning and prepare yourself for supper.”

The aging queen rose and stalked out of the room, leaving her daughter standing by the window, a beautiful picture of misery.

A timid knock sounded at the door and a young maid peeked in.

“Your mother sent me in to prepare you, missall.”

“Come in.”

Abella sank into a soft divan and rested her head on her arms as the maid scurried over to her.

 Reluctantly, the princess lifted her head and let her maid loosen her braid and comb her waist length, black hair.

“Did you hear anything that Mother said, Dorita?” Abella asked, wondering if the whole town had heard it.

“Couldn’t help but hear, your Majesty,” replied the maid cheerfully. “All of us servants listen to anythin’ we like. No one cares about us, you see miss. An’ so we hear all little snitches of this an’ that.”

Abella bit her lip in anxiety.

“So, the whole palace heard?” she whispered, mortified.

“Yes siree! We were all’s downstairs, ya’ see."

Abella let her gabble on and began to think hard. She tried to remember what Silcombe looked like. It had been so long since she had seen visitors: ever since her father had died.

Queen Lydianna had refused to see anyone. Now, as Abella thought the situation over, she made up her mind. She tried her best to put on a smile, but it was hard, knowing she were about to be married to someone she didn’t even know.

Dorita patted her princess’s shoulder.

“All done, your Majesty. How ‘bout you go look at yourself in te’ mirror whilst I go get your gown.”

 Abella stood up and gracefully walked over to the large, gilded mirror her father had had made for her tenth birthday. It seemed so long ago; the six years that had passed since then had been hard on her family, with her elder brother dying at sea, the large debts and then her father dying because of his illness, leaving a gaping hole in the girl’s life.

Dorita came back with a gown over her shoulder.

“Now, missall, let me get you dressed fer’ supper."

She drew the curtains on the balcony and windows and began the long and elaborate procedure of dressing her princess.