No Longer Our Sea (Book 1)

17

The ball is tomorrow night.

Another night where I'd have to fake my smiles and put myself on display for all to see. The way I see it, it's just another huge risk.

For others, like Cliara, she's over the moon. Practically, swooning over the thought of what she says are some of the most magnificent parties of the year. In my mind, what could be better than the balls I was forced to attend under the sea? Sure, my attendance was never out of will, but I never regretted going. It was always more than a ball or party, but rather a show of beauty with the magic my mother presented for us all.

Her powers were an unexplainable spectacle. I remember how vividly colors would fill the waters, spurling and mixing together to create life-like moments of our rich history, artwork, and sometimes even our achievements. My mother would paint the images perfectly, no matter what they were. Everyone would marvel at what they saw, especially me. Sometimes, during the performances and displays I'd forget about who my mother really was. The harm and cruelty she was capable of, how she treated humans, how she treated me. It made me want to obey her, respect her, love her. And most of the time it did.

It was not long before I realized those presentations were how she kept control of everyone. It was how she kept the nobles and castle servants in line. How she ensured not only her family's safety, but the safety of the crown on her head.

My mother knew that the way she ruled Draesa was debatable. She knew her iron fist on the Kingdom would catch up with her. When she saw me, the way I blatantly disobeyed her, I think it might have scared her. Frightened her even, for the possible future, a future where she had no power. Not over me, or anyone. And so the displays at all the balls and parties began. Reminding her subjects of all she was capable of, and forcing them to be kept in line, or else face further punishment.

But despite the reason, despite the motive behind it all, the show of colors and power was always a wonder to any eye. How could the ball on land compare?

"This one?" Cliara asks me, coming out from behind the curtain with a newly made ball gown on. It's blue, of course. It seems everyone wants to contribute to the apparent irony of things.

Cliara had asked me to help her choose a gown, since she herself couldn't decide between the ones she had made. Most of the time, I wasn't always paying attention to her self-critiques. I mean how could I? Valora's warning had filled my head and begun to trouble me. If she wanted to expose me for what I was, she'd have to it publicly, in a place where I'd be openly shamed and tried. The most obvious place for that to be done was the ball. Eyes and ears would be everywhere, and Valora would be stupid to pass up the lingingering oppurtuinity. The event was just another boiling pot for me, threatening to tip over.

"You want my honest opinion?" I ask in return and she nods, "Everyone will be wearing blue, you'll blend in."

Knowing Cliara, she probably was aiming to outdress everyone. In her mind, it was important and she wanted to shine from the rest like a burning star.

Cliara's lips turned upward, paying me a smile, "Your right. I have something else."

She then chooses an orange gown from her closet and presents it to me. To me it's too bright and reminds me too much of the fruit that I can almost taste the tangy flavor. "No, not this." It's everything she wants, everything she's been looking for: bright, out there and eye catching. But with this sun-like atrocity, she'd blind everyone in the room.

She sighs, "Okay, than what do you suggest?"

"A new color? One no one's ever seen you in?" I respond in return even though I know what I'm suggesting is hardly possible. From what I've seen, Cliara has the wardrobe of a rainbow, owning pretty much every color I've thought possible. It would be a challenge to find a gown in a color she'd didn't already previously own.