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Chapter 5 - Neve

Neve regretted not calling on one of the servants to bring her a fur shawl as she stomped through the palace gardens. Within minutes of leaving the ballroom, she was covered in a thick layer of snow and her satin heels were soaked. She gave a shiver. The white hot rage she felt after her conversation with Prince Asher still burned deep in her chest, but unfortunately it didn’t extend to the rest of her.

Wiping the freshly fallen snow from her hair, she moved through the gardens as quickly as she could, which wasn’t very far considering there were several inches on the ground and she was hardly dressed appropriately. Still, she was in no hurry to return to the ball.

“Miserable, conceited ass,” she hissed between chattering teeth as she made her way towards the pavilion, her favorite place in the garden. Constructed of large pillars of white marble shipped in from the Kingdom of Maris, with a domed crystal roof and window walls that gave an undisrupted view of the gardens, the pavilion was where her mother loved to host all sorts of teas and luncheons, no matter the weather.

Cordelia rarely used it in her time as queen, most likely because of its association with her predecessor, which usually left it free for Neve when she needed a place to clear her head.

Slipping inside the glass door, Neve brushed the remaining snow from herself. The fire hadn’t been lit, so while still freezing, but at least the bone-chilling winds were kept at bay.

Flopping down into the nearest chair, Neve wrapped her arms around herself and glowered at the floor. How could her father honestly think that Prince Asher would be a good match for her? After meeting with the prince of Centril for mere minutes, the idea was laughable.

Clearly the prince had been less than taken with her as well, and maybe he could be persuaded to call off the nuptials. Even as she thought it, Neve knew in her heart that would never happen. This was a marriage of political gain, and her feelings were of no importance. Besides, it wasn’t up to either of them, and Prince Asher was just as trapped in this union as she was.

From what she knew of Glassen Palace, it was huge, and so she probably wouldn’t have to see her husband-to-be often. Louisa would be there with her as well, so at least she would have the person she loved most in the world there with her as a comfort in what was sure to be a loveless marriage.

A restless feeling took hold of Neve, which often happened when she was feeling stress. With a sigh, she stood and began to pass about the circular structure, taking in the sight of the garden under its heavy layer of snow. With a pang in her chest, she realized this would likely be one of the last times she ever got to see the garden in this way, as this time next week she’d be marrying Prince Asher and leaving immediately for Auric. At least until her father died and she was queen.

King Cygrus was still young and in perfect health, so it would be decades at least until she was crowned king. Besides, she loved her father very much, despite the fact he was making her marry that boneheaded simpleton of a man. Still, she would be devastated if he were to die.

Neve stopped at one of the panels and rested her head on the cool glass, closing her eyes and trying to will herself not to cry. A heavy lump had formed in the back of her throat, threatening to choke her.

As much as she had been dreading tonight, a small part of her had hoped she would fall in love with the prince at first sight. If she was being forced to spend the rest of her life with him, it would at least be easier if she could love him. Having now met him, she knew she could never love him, and the thought of being his bride left her feeling colder than this winter’s night ever could.

The bell of the clock tower in the palace chapel began to ring, signaling an hour had passed since the start of the ball.

Swallowing that lump and wiping the tears stinging the corners of her eyes, she raked in a deep breath and straightened. People would start to notice she was missing soon, and it wouldn’t be a good look for her if her father found out.

“You just need to get through tonight,” she whispered to herself in a shaky breath. On feet that felt like lead, she made her way towards the door, pausing to turn and look around one last time.

The air in the ballroom was hot and stagnant when Neve returned, which didn’t help with the heavy feeling in her chest as she scanned the room. Lords and ladies danced about, flashes of jewel colored gowns making her dizzy.

King Cygnus sat on his throne, talking with a man Neve didn’t recognize but judging from the periwinkle blue sash he wore proudly over his chest, he was a diplomat from Cendril. Cordelia was standing off to the side, her ladies-in-waiting surrounding her as she laughed with another man Neve had never seen before.

Glancing around the room for Louisa, or at least one of her other ladies-in-waiting, she was startled when a hand tapped her shoulder.

“Goodness!” Neve exclaimed, jumping in her skin and whirling around to find another young woman that looked to be her age. The girl was tall with slight curves in her figure, a darker skin tone then what was common in Hercynia, and a wave of right curls that hung flawlessly around her face, a diadem of pearls, opals and aquamarine was perched on top of her head. She wore a plunging gown of dark teal velvet with long, flared sleeves and embroidered with gold. She radiated wealth and beauty in a way King Cygnus could only dream of.

The girl jumped back, startled by Neve’s reaction.

“Sorry!” the girl said, placing a hand to her chest and giving a little laugh. “I didn’t realize you’d be so jumpy.”

Neve straightened, her cheeks and the back of her neck growing uncomfortable warm. “Not to worry,” she said, smoothing out her gown, which was still damp from the snow. She forced a polite smile onto her face. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“We haven’t,” the girl confirmed pleasantly. “But as we’re about to be family, I thought I’d introduce myself.” Neve cocked her head in confusion, unsure of how she was to be related to this stranger.

“Princess Zara of Maris,” the girl, Zara, said, dipping into a curtsy. “I’m Asher’s cousin.”

Neve felt herself grow hotter as the confusion subsided, feeling incredibly stupid for not having realized how Zara was earlier. It was common knowledge that Zara was half Marisian and half Tandian. Her mother was Queen Merle of Maris and her father Prince Azul of Tanda, the youngest brother of King Amari. Her outfit showcasing the official colors of Maris was another dead giveaway.

“Oh, of course,” Neve said as she mirrored the other girl’s curtsy. “Forgive me, I should have known.”

“We’ve never met, so I don’t see how you could have known,” Zara said with the wave of her hand, which was stacked with rings. Her tone was playful enough, but Neve still felt incredibly embarrassed.

“Is it always so cold here?” Zara asked, bringing her bejeweled hands up to her shoulders and rubbing them with a shudder. “I’ve never seen so much snow in my life.”

Neve didn’t doubt it, as Maris was located the furthest south of all the kingdoms of Terrania. The only kingdom surrounded by water on all sides, Maris was known for their booming fishing industry. There was a particularly rare type of fish, the silver-tip mackerel, that Neve was very fond of that could only be found in Marisian waters.

“The summer’s aren’t so bad,” Neve said politely.

“Well, it’s a good thing we won’t be here too much longer,” Zara said cheerfully. “You’ll be headed off to Auric this time next week, and I’m to start my royal tour as I return to Maris. I’ll be of age by then.”

So that meant that Zara was a few months younger than Neve. Unlike the other kingdoms of Terrania, Maris was the only one that encouraged people to wait to marry. Zara probably had several years ahead of her before she was married off. Maris was also the only kingdom that was currently ruled by a queen. Though when Neve’s father died that would change.

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Neve gave Zara a tight smile, unsure of what else to say.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Zara said suddenly, looking horrified. “This must be terribly sad for you, having to leave your home so soon.”

The Princess of Maris was at least kinder than her cousin.

“How are you and Prince Asher cousins again?” Neve asked.

“His mother is my mother’s sister,” Zara said.

Suddenly, one of Cordelia’s ladies-in-waiting appeared by Neve’s side, dipping into a curtsy.

“Sorry for the intrusion, but Her Majesty is looking for you, You Highness,” the woman, Mira possibly, said. Neve glanced up to where Cordelia was still standing amongst the courtiers.

“Yes, of course,” Neve said with a nod before turning back to Zara. “Forgive me, I should see what she wants.”

If Zara was offended by the dismissal, she didn’t show it.

“Of course,” she said, waving another hand. “I think I’m going to find Asher and bully him into dancing with me. Enjoy your evening.”

Zara turned and strode into the ballroom. It didn’t take her long to find Prince Asher, who was surrounded by a group of pretty young women. Even though she hated him already, Neve’s face burned at seeing him flirting with every young woman present barely an hour after their engagement. The audacity was overwhelming.

Neve watched as Zara waltzed up to her cousin and dragged him away without a word and decided she liked the other princess very much.

Following Mira through the crowd, Neve spotted Louisa dancing with a young man likely from Cendril. Her chest tightened as Louisa laughed at something the young man whispered in her ear. At least everyone else was having a good time.

Tearing her eyes away, she approached her step-mother, who was still laughing with that same man from earlier. He looked to be close to Cordelia’s age, with lush, golden blonde hair, a sharp jawline and pleasant smile.

“Neve! There you are!” Cordelia exclaimed, her attention turning on her step-daughter. The queen reached out and pulled Neve to her side. “You must meet Lord Allard. He’s the senior foreign trade officer of Cendril.”

Lord Allard dropped in a bow and flashed a dazzling smile at Neve. “A pleasure, Your Highness. Cendril is looking forward to your upcoming nuptials.”

Plastering what she hoped was a convincing smile onto her face, Neve replied, “Thank you Lord Allard. I’m looking forward to learning all of Cendril’s customs.”

Cordelia snorted and rubbed her belly. “No need to be so formal tonight, Neve. It’s a party.”

Neve very much doubted her father would agree with that sentiment, but he was preoccupied at the moment.

Lord Allard began rambling on about all of the celebrations that were planned for Neve’s arrival in Cendril, and she listened politely while very much wishing she could go to bed, or at least talk to Louisa and possibly plan running away. If she begged enough Louisa would probably give in and agree.

In the corner of her eye, a figure came up to Neve’s side. Turning, she found a servant, a young man with terribly dry, messy brown hair that obscured much of his face. The servant presented Neve with a tray, a single silver goblet placed in the center.

“Drink, Your Highness?” the servant said, his face still lowered to the ground. His voice squeaked with nerves, though Neve was used to that. He was most likely new.

“Oh you must try this!” Lord Allard said excitedly, snatching the goblet off the tray and handing it over to Neve. The servant backed away without a word. Inside the goblet was an odd, shimmering white liquid too watery to be milk.

“What is it?” Neve asked wearily. Bringing it closer to her face for inspection, she got the strongest whiff of apples and fought back a gag.

“It’s a special cider made from blanchard apples,” Lord Allard explained, and when Neve stared at him, shaking her head in confusion he clarified, “Cendril’s one-of-a-kind white apples.”

Neve’s stomach twisted in dread. She really hated all things apple, but it would be considered an insult if she didn’t have at least one glass of the blanchard cider, especially as it likely had been brought specifically for her engagement.

The eyes of Lord Allard, Cordelia and all the ladies-in-waiting burned into her as Neve stared down at the drink. With another smile she prayed looked somewhat sincere, Neve brought the glass to her mouth. Before the liquid could actually touch her lips, the music abruptly stopped and King Cygrus called for attention.

“Neve, Prince Asher, if you’ll join me here,” King Cygrus called over the crowd, goblet in hand.

Relief washed over Neve like a summer’s rain, and she hurried to join her father on the dais. She tried her best to keep her features neutral as she came face to face with Prince Asher once more. The prince barely looked at her as he accepted a glass from a passing servant, flashing a cocky grin at the observing crowd. A few young ladies nearby burst into giggles and whispered to one another. Neve’s eye twitched as she fought not to scoff at them.

“I’d like to raise a toast,” King Cygrus called, raising the glass in his hand. Around the room, the guests all raised glasses of their own, followed by Prince Asher and reluctantly Neve. “It’s not everyday that a father sees his daughter married,” King Cygrus said, turning and beaming down at Neve, who felt herself turn pink. “As heavy as my heart grows to see my only daughter leave home and start a family of her own…”

Again, Neve tried not to scoff at the thought of actually having a child with Prince Asher. “I know I place my daughter’s hand into that of a friend. May this union bring forth undying friendship between our great nation. To Princess Neve and Prince Asher.”

With that, King Cygrus brought his glass to his mouth and drank deeply from the goblet. The rest of the ballroom followed suite, and Neve realized she was actually going to have to drink the cider in her glass now.

Bringing the silver chalice to her lips, she tilted it back and let the shimmering white liquid coat her tongue. Immediately she to spew it back out but caught herself, holding the cider in her mouth as her eyes water. It was the strongest apple taste she had ever encountered, sweeping over her tongue both tart and impossibly sweet. There was something incredibly acidic about it as well, though she supposed that was likely the alcohol.

Knowing if she actually swallowed the cider she would vomit onto the ground, which would be a very bad look. So, carefully she tilted the goblet slightly down and let the liquid fall back out of her mouth into the cup, thankful that it was solid silver and no one would notice her spitting the cider back in.

Breathing hard through her nose, Neve brought the cup away from her face and swallowed back the saliva that had pooled in her mouth mixed with the remaining bit of cider she hadn’t managed to spit out. Her stomach clenched painfully as she kept breathing, fighting back the urge to empty her stomach onto the ground. Neve blinked back the tears that were forming in her eyes as she struggled to breath normally.

“Oh my dear, don’t cry,” King Cygrus said softly, bending down to kiss his daughter’s forehead. The princess felt her face grow hot for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, as she had been hoping her distress wouldn’t be noticed.

“This isn’t goodbye forever,” her father continued. “I’m sure you and Prince Asher will have plenty of time to visit in the future.”

Prince Asher smiled tightly but said nothing, evident to Neve that there was zero chance he’d be returning anywhere in Hercynia if he could help it.

Dragging her gaze away before she gave into the urge to throw her cup at her fiancé, Neve looked up at her father and smiled. “I’m sure we will.”

KIng Cygrus’s smile grew and extended a hand to his daughter. “Will you allow me a dance, my dear?”

Taking her father’s hand, she replied, “of course.”

The king began to led her off the dais and Neve looked around for someone to take the vile cider from her. She hoped to never have to drink it ever again.

As they descended the steps of the dais, Neve began to feel strange. Her vision began to fade in and out, the corners of the room blackening like spilt ink. Blinking rapidly, she failed to clear the strange shadows looming in on her.

She stopped dead as she reached the final step, pulling back from her father’s hand as she tried to steady herself as a strange, painfully tingling sensation rain down her thighs and settling in her calves.

“Neve?” she heard a voice say. Her father perhaps, but the voice echoed through her skull, distorting her hearing, so she couldn’t be sure.

Heat began to creep through her face and down her limbs, but it wasn’t the same warmth she had felt throughout the evening when she had either been angered or embarrassed. No. This was different. A painful inferno that felt like she was being burned from the inside out.

Neve hadn’t realized she collapsed until her knees hit the stone floor. She threw her hands out to try and catch herself, spilling the remainder of her blanchard cider, the shimmery liquid spilling over the tiles and spreading like blood.

More voices echoed through her skull, though she couldn’t make out the words. She gasped in pain as her chest constricted, her heart beating painfully as fear took over. A stabbing pain in her stomach had her drop completely to the ground, as her arms circled around her midriff and let out a scream of pain.

Something was leaking out of her mouth, a mix of foam, copper and the aftertaste of that disgusting apple cider, choking her. She heaved, trying to get whatever it was out of her mouth, but it seemed that only brought up more of whatever was spilling from her throat.

Hands reached behind her back and hauled her up.

Neve screamed again as the fire beneath her flesh burned and her stomach twisted again in pain. She was shaking, convulsing uncontrollably. In that moment she would have traded her soul just to make all of that pain stop.

She heaved again and cracked open her eyes. A mixture of blood and bile coated her front.

The shadows rapidly closed in on her, and as she blinked she looked up and found Louisa’s face staring down at her. Her friend’s mouth was moving, but Neve couldn’t make out what she was saying.

Tears streamed from Louisa’s honey-brown eyes, and that was the last thing Neve saw as the world went black.