Adalheida's POV
As a young girl, I had traveled all around the world. By the age of seven, my feet had touched the ground on every country on the planet. Some think I'm spoiled, but that's actually false. Ever since I said my first words, I have been trained day by day to run the entire German Federation.
I spoke English, French, and Spanish by the age of eleven, I was almost entirely completed with all of my schooling by the time I was fifteen. I could play seven different instruments and was already making important decisions for my country by my sixteenth birthday.
Sit up straight. Shoulders back.
Maintain eyes contact.
Walk with authority.
All my life, people have been constantly breathing down my neck with more criteria I need to meet up with.
Only cross your legs at the ankles.
Tie up that hair, or straighten it.
I hated it. All of it. I went to three finishing schools, and none of them helped me, so eventually, the strictest woman in the world was hired to follow me around to keep me in line.
Madame Agatha is the worst. She hates me. When she doesn't correct everything I do wrong, she insults me. From my unruly red hair to my constant want of being outdoors. She just never seems to listen. But whenever I try to tell my parents, they ignore it. They have it in their heads that Madame Agatha is the sweetest woman alive.
So many times I have wished I could go back to the time we visited Illéa when I was eight. Things were so much different there. I got to run around like a maniac and I was allowed to speak without permission when we ate. And the Shreave's youngest sun, Osten, was just like me. I actually had a friend. Here, my closest thing to a friend is my maid Gaelle and my younger brother Amey.
I knew not to complain though. That would resolve with ,e being forced to write lines of Madame Agatha's choosing.
And then there was Ainsley. The prince of the United European Countries that I was betrothed to. I only met him in person once when I was sixteen. He was kind and good looking and smart, and he constantly writes to me and even calls, but I find myself bored with him. We have nothing in common, and he thinks of me as a different person than I actually am.
There you have it. A quick sample to decide if you want to read our next book, "5,871 Miles Apart". Go check our profile to get to the story!
~Sarah