From a very young age royals are taught discipline. Something that not many people outside of the castle possess. The royal family is supposed to show excellence. For the people, no matter what status, can learn from example. The royal family is supposed to keep calm and listen to their subjects, accept their criticism with humility and open minds. Even when people are wrong, a member of a royal family has no right to dismiss them. Control. Restraint. Discipline.
Those words leave a bitter taste on the tip of my tongue every time I pronounce them. My lips barely move, as I whisper, pushing my irritation down. I used to do so, all too many times at the Aquamarine Academy. There were too many unreliable people, too many things were left untaught, and I was but a young, unable to defend my truth.
Academy lessons are terribly long. They often conclude with the tutor bowing to the students and leaving before anyone can ask questions. Potions, history, conjuring, Fae law, herbology and many more are the bane of kids' existence. They were mine too.
Once the class is finished, and the only lights left are the candelabras – the kids sit on the stone floor and tell each other stories. Stories only children dare to speak aloud, about dangerous banshees whose cries wake the dead, or kindhearted selkies residing in the sea. Stories of their dreamy escape from the capital. Not many venture to the Isles, unless myth and legends don't scare them; still many keep on dreaming for the day when they spread their wings and leave the towers of the Academy, where authority and knowledge are above anything else.
I grew up among those stories - but that's all there is to them. They are stories. Our species' fascination with embellishment of fact has always intrigued me. I've seen what the Isles looked like, and they were nothing like what those kids described. There was no adventure, there were no evergreen enchanted forests, no magic. There were buildings, just like at home, there was a port, stalls filled with fish and other sea gifts, and a variety of people. All human-looking too. The enthralling Fae Isles were simply like anywhere else - plain and abundant with normal people, no tattoos on their faces, no wings, no horns, no alien skin tones.
Every time I tried to shove some sense into the kids' brains, they called for supervisors, crying she's a big fat liar. I used to be a chubby child, but there was no reason to insult me, for I always spoke nothing but the truth. So, yet again, I had kept my cool. I had whispered discipline under my breath and excused myself to the dormitories under the heavy gazes of my peers.
Those heavy gazes followed me all my life. Those of my tutors, pressuring me to study harder, to write nicer, to read smoother. Their eyes reminded me of ponds back at the castle. Dark and deep, I saw my reflection: a child, tear ridden eyes, red nose and parted lips, pleading for a break. But their gazes were unyielding, and that child had to look down at the book and continue scribbling down notes.
Some gazes came from the shadows, as I walked home. Burdened by the promise of the crown, I had to return to the palace every three days. Only at ten years old I realized who the shadows were. Shadows everywhere I set foot, crawling behind me like an eternal companion. They were by the old oaks, in the freshly cut grass, in the crystal-clear water of the fountains. I was scared, as a child should be. When I was hungry in the middle of the night and tried to get to the gardens, I was caught. Malachite's summer nights are notorious for their cold, my governess had whispered, be careful when you venture alone to pick the apples from our fruitrees. The shadow behind me had chuckled. I had decided I was not just afraid, but utterly terrified at the raspy sound of its voice, coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
Those memories dissipate as years pass, but I can never forget the shadow's eyes watching me, as I cried walking home. My back hurt from the heavy backpack, my hands were dirty with ink and my hair was a mess. The shadow slithered towards my feet and for the first time, I saw its hand, giving me a handkerchief. His hand was jet black, as if covered in paint. I could see nails and veins, and shakily took the small gift. I was a small offering, but I was taught manners, so I bowed. The shadow flickered and the hand disappeared with it.
At some point it became a habit to feel an everlasting presence behind me. When I ventured outside the main gates to visit the empty gardens with exotic flowers from the Otherworld, I felt its presence. Silent and chilly, it was never too far. I knew my curfew, and I knew the rules, I knew the reasons, and yet, morbid curiosity got the better of me. I stayed longer at the pond, staring at my reflection, somehow hoping it would show something else.
Black puffy hair, chubby cheeks, plump but chapped lips from excessive biting and naturally tanned skin. I've seen it all too many times - but couldn't stop looking. The ripples in the water pleaded me watch more, enthralling me into looking until my face was so close to the water, I could easily fall in it, and drown.
The shadow crawled to my side and I felt a gentle pat on my leg. I was too mesmerized by the water and the creature looking at me from the other side. I had to taste the water, I had to get in. So I took off my blazer and my shoes, and stepped in. The shadow flickered, and as I stared at my feet, engulfed by the dark water, something started taking shape behind me. Time to go. It said in a male voice. I shuddered and turned around, but there was nothing there. I clasped my things to my chest and ran, afraid to look back.
When I had turned sixteen and entered the Academy as an official post-graduation student, the shadow showed itself fully.
During the joining ceremony, I stood in front of the council, waiting for the verdict. My application was spotless, and I was of royal blood, the eldest of three. They looked at me, judging, and again, I felt their eyes creeping deep inside me. They searched for something that wasn't there - any sort of malice, any proof that magic took over, but I was healthy and an ace student, there was nothing they could do to me. I know it now, but back then, I was sweating, my heart beating fast. I sincerely begged for praise. The former, I still do.
The ceremony was quick and painless. Perhaps I was too young to understand what it meant, but I went outside and cried. I don't know why, but the pressure vanished and was replaced by another kind. Pressure to get my Apricus degree. Five long years. The shadow crept from a corner and enveloped me. It smelled of sandalwood and musk.
I dared to open my eyes, and that's when I saw him. Straight jet black bangs gently cupped his upper face. Pointed elongated ears added something ethereal to his portrait. I had no words, as I watched the beauty unravel before me. He has taken my breath away.
Then, he brought me home, and as usual, stayed behind, as I entered the main hall. He had never set foot in the castle, and I was too indifferent to ask why.
The Academy reminded me of discipline. I was tutored for a reason, one I was too young to comprehend. But I knew it existed, somewhere, between the endless meetings with foreign delegates and the weight of the thin golden crown on top of His Majesty the King's head. People lacked discipline, unlike us, royals, who lived and breathed restraint. Money wise, food wise, power wise - Malachite was known as a peaceful and simple country. We had nothing extraordinary to offer to our neighbors, but we existed, and that was enough. Or at least, that's what the king said.
With growing shackles and weight of responsibilities, the Academy taught me that at times, discipline withdraws. Too many ropes, and my skin burned, the more they pulled, the more I tried to fight. And they pulled hard.
It was rumored the Fae were the ones to pull the strings in the Academy; there were books of foreign origin, but students were not allowed to read them. After I lost my closest friend and my little sister put a snake under my pillow, I went to the library and took those books. Through tears and sleepless nights, I learned to hate one thing and only: injustice. Cruel is the action and cruel shall be punishment, I had told myself, drawing runes that originated from pixies. The foreign girl had collapsed on the ground, struck with pain in her knees. They burned and then shattered, bones cracking, the girl screamed. After a minute, the pain disappeared, and her knees were no longer ground meat. She could walk, so she ran.
I laughed, noticing the shadow by my side. The shadow snickered too, even though he was not supposed to. The delegate left the palace, barely alarmed by the unbelievable story of his daughter, still crying over her busted kneecaps. Father had no time for such pranks, so he did not seek the jester to punish them – he simply returned to his office. At eighteen I felt lonely, as no one ever punished me anymore. Not even the corpse of the white parrot the foreign girl came with surprised the servants. Nobody says anything, I said, everyone had something to say when I was growing up. And now they ignore it. Ignore me. And what's worse, they don't care the foreign girl hit our Auretta.
The day I turned nineteen, I went to the city, where I bought myself the most elegant summer dress I could find. It was ivory, with pink gladiolus and yellow tuberose. I felt my heartbeat quicken when I tried it on. The weight of sepha in my pockets promised the return of the feeling as often as I needed. Money, something tangible I could use to feel blood pumping. One of two shadows accompanying me approached. I turned around and smiled into the mirror. The shadow transformed into the creature I was afraid of looking at. So, I dropped my gaze and my cheeks turned blood red. A gloved hand touched my bony shoulder, hoping I would dare to look up again. So I did, and my breath hitched.
'You look like tropical summer,' the creature said, 'and smell of jasmine from those lands.'
I blushed harder, but kept my mouth shut. I simply nodded and went to the counter to pay for the dress and heels. My hands trembled as I took the coins and papers. I felt people watching me, I felt their judgment. I do not recall why it bothered me at the time. People simply did not understand monarchs. Not everyone is stuck in their strongholds. They do so to alienate their subjects - we were better. We were the prime example monarchy was good.
The shadow dissipated once I arrived at the palace. And that's when I felt most lonely. Little friends the crown princess has, once she reaches the age of nineteen. So, between lessons I went to the main gates and waited. Still my history book in hand, I shifted on my feet, glancing at the guards. They were stoic and armed, like statues in our halls, and I waved at them. In a matter of seconds, he was here.
That's when I studied him. My shadowguard was tall and robust. His lips were a pout, and they promised the company I longed for. His nose was long, with a large bridge. His hair, styled the same as the years before, covering his forehead, strands falling right into his lashes. They were thick, like mine. His beauty terrified me.
I dared to touch him. I drew my slim finger along his sharp cheekbone. His black eyes with white irises gazed at me. I could not pronounce a single word. Thus, he spoke first. 'Your Highness' was soft like the spring breeze. A word that caressed my cheeks, as he lowered to my level. He smiled and my fingertips followed the line of his lip. 'What do you need from me?' were spoken a little harsher, a little stricter, like in the past, but there was something else, the something I have been yearning for. My lips became a thin line. My heart jumped. I felt dizzy, as if I had tasted the great wines of Father's collection. The shadow moved his lips and planted the softest kiss on my index finger. It was so fast that I thought I might have imagined it.
I never asked for anything other than his company. After courses and training, I was too exhausted to do anything other than eat and sleep. His presence, however, was welcomed in both cases, if he ever desired to. He never came though. He never entered the castle, and I was too shy to ask. I never demanded anything, I would not order such a thing. Restraint.
"Your Highness, you must get ready, and I know you're still in your everyday clothes!" Auretta, my maid, who was now older, wiser and also, a little meaner, cried out.
It woke me from my daily daydream. Holidays were scarse for Apricus degree students. I was not used to it. My thoughts ran wild each time I had more than ten minutes to myself.
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Auretta's voice was strikingly beautiful, just like her dark mahogany curly hair. I opened the door to my chambers, my eyes glossy. She nodded, noticing I was already dressed, and passed me a marble box. It was heavy in my hands, and I slid my fingers on the edges.
"What's in it?" I asked, absentmindedly, still wary after my labyrinth of memories.
The servant clasped her hands together around her lower stomach. "Necklace and earrings for the soiree."
I accept the jewelry and close the door.
It was summer outside. Middle of Litha. The Summer Solstice festival would start soon - and I had to attend. My first official break since Y.858. I should've been happy, but the only thing I felt was fatigue. Like an automated machine, I put on the malachite necklace and earrings. The designs were so perfectly integrated in the stone, that I stared at my reflection for longer than usual.
My vanity was a mix of gold and white marble, like a lot of things in the palace. Everything was so pristine, so clean, it dried my eyes. My door flew open and my little sister, who recently turned ten, ran inside. She was a gremlin, small and crouched, with an ever-present malicious intent in her eyes. She stared at me, saying nothing. I thought she lost her tongue.
"You look ugly," she said, jumping on my bed. Shoes and all. I prayed she didn't go for a walk in the mud prior to that unprecedented visit.
"What do you want, Spica?" I muttered, checking my hair one last time. It was pulled up, curled with heat and held in place by powder. Smelled like powder a lot too, so I must be careful not to choke our guests.
"Nah-thing," she smiled wide, showing off her uneven teeth. "Mom said you must dance tonight."
"Oh, did she? Did she say anything about your duties?" I asked, curious. My tone might have been mistaken for mockery, but there was no such thing. Spica may have made my life hell, but I didn't hate her, I could never hate her. Even if, sometimes, it was hard not to.
"Bitch," was the only thing Spica said before rustling my bedsheets and leaving my room. I kneeled on the floor and was about to put my hands around my head, but remembered how much time servants spent doing my hair, so decided against it. I shall suffer unmoving then.
Outside smelled of recently cooked appetizers and wines. I shrug and approach a stall where I grab a handful of little delicacies and study them intently, before gulping each down. I swallow and quickly clap my hands in pleasure. I admire my nails in the sun, shining with a new color brought directly from Hanwi. Beautiful make-ups were exported from there. I am so lucky to get a taste before everyone else.
"Norella! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," My ears perked up when I heard a familiar female voice behind me. No way. It couldn't be.
"Aunt Verse?" I speak, eyes wide open. She has not made an official appearance in this court for over twenty years, why was she here now?
"The one and only, my child, oh, how you've grown," her smile was contagious. I let out a sigh of relief when she hugged me. Her arms were warm, and even during Litha heat, it made feel cozy. I liked hugs.
"How long ago was it, Aunt? Ten years?"
"Eleven. You were so small back then," she showed that I arrived to her stomach. "You were the smallest child I've ever met,"
"That is an exaggeration, I was quite chubby, sorry," I bowed my head, blushing. "In any case, what are you doing here, Archduchess?" I return to my good old manners. Tiring at times, to even adress family by titles.
Her soft gaze turned ice cold in a matter of seconds. She shut her mouth and looked behind me. "Calen," she muttered and I turned around, curtsying in front of the king.
"I sent an invitation, like any other year," Father spoke in low baritone, fingers trailing through his beard. He was dressed regal, as always. Even under the scorching sun, he wore blusons and thick pants, his blond hair styled back. A thin golden crown, forever stuck to his forehead.
"And I agreed to come visit because my dear niece turned twenty a weak ago or so,"
"4th of Litha, yes," Father noted, amused. I felt out of place here. My eyes darted from left to right, searching for my shadowguard. Obviously, he was nowhere to be seen. Shadows stay put until they are called. I hated this analogy, and yet, it seemed just about right.
"Norella, darling, how about you show me the gardens?" Aunt Verse put her warm hand on my exposed shoulder and led me away from the king. I looked back at him, not knowing what I was seeking. Approval? Protection? Revulsion?
The music faded and we found ourselves under the flower arch, leading to the royal gardens. It smelled of peonies. The woman took a good look of me and circles around, touching the sides of my flowy dress.
"Tired?" she asked. A simple question, and yet the answer was difficult. I shook my head. "Don't lie to me, child."
"I am tired, yes," I sighed, clasping my hands together.
"How's the Academy treating you?"
"You know quite some things about my life," I smirk, trotting inside the maze of colors. "And yet, I know nothing of yours, Aunt."
"It is supposed to be this way. I didn't leave the court for everyone to keep tabs on me," she smiled, but there was no light in her eyes. I decided to let it go, for now. I had no interest in asking questions that would not be answered.
"Academy is okay. I finish the course in a year," I start, gazing at the setting sun. Another hour or two, and the celebration will become the most beautiful thing in Malachite until the next holiday. "I had some difficulty adjusting to the timetable a few months ago, but it's all over now. I'm okay."
Aunt Verse listened, her lips a charming pout. Under the sunlight, I noticed the soft wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Even aging she was pretty. It was not common beauty, but she had charm. The charm I always dreamed of possessing. It made me jealous, to see her talk so freely, to act so carelessly. What was she thinking, coming back now? After all those years?
"But darling, you don't seem okay," she stopped in her tracks and turned to face me. Her long yellow dress curled around her hips, showing a bit of a wrinkled stomach. I got a glimpse of her shiny shoes. They were pretty too.
"Is it so obvious? Or did you receive a royal report in the Isles?"
"So you know something about me after all..." she smiled. "No, I didn't receive anything, but I am older and wiser, and I see there is a depth in your eyes that a young woman such as you should not possess."
"Maybe you forgot I my title. Heirs usually have that tired look plastered on them," I tried to joke, but it came out more like a whine.
"How many heirs have you met?"
I seriously considered answering many. But, the truth was, I've only met one. A prince from Kurna, the neighboring kingdom. He was much older than me when we first and last met - now he should be king, if I'm not mistaken. His mother queen was terribly ill back in the day. The prince, Vasiliy, didn't look tired, per se, he looked relaxed. Content with his title. Perhaps it was due to the wine he had ingested before meeting Father.
"That's right," Aunt Verse looked around. "You like this place?"
"I do. It's my little paradise," I smile, touching petals of flowers we pass. I touch them gently, afraid they'll break off.
"How is your magic?" She suddenly asked. I stopped mid-step and slowly turned to her. Her gaze proved she knew something.
"As usual," I answer, as calmly as I can. "It was never a problem, really."
"Magic is said to be rare, as you well know," she started, tracing her fingers on a rose. "Princesses with magic are even more rare."
"You want to tell me something, Archduchess?" I ask, cutting to the chase. Her eyes pierce mine.
"No need for titles, please, they annoy me. I didn't come here just to see you, Norella. Of course, it warms my old heart that you're alive and well, but there are more pressing matters at hand."
"Such as?" I stare at her in anticipation. The subject of magic was always a bit taboo in the family, as I was the only one who wielded it. The first gifted royal in a long time. I might actually be the only Seagrave to possess it, if I remember correctly.
"Your magic is valuable, not just to you, but to the kingdom, and to everyone who resides in it. Malachite is a peaceful, small scale country. People aren't used to having real power... in power, if you see what I mean."
"I do not." My answer was curt, and I approached the woman, taking her hand in mine. "Am I in danger?"
"People will be scared once you take over the throne. When that day comes, you should know everything there is about magic, not just yours," her words echo in the back of my mind.
"You didn't answer if I was in danger,"
"Child, we all are in danger, when facing an unknown," her words strike something in me and I take a step back.
"By unknown you mean magic," I hesitantly say. She nods, looking around.
"Stay close to the people you trust. Choose them wisely too," she turns around and heads back to the arch. "It'll do you some good. You look ghastly, child."
I swallow when she disappears behind bushes, back into the celebration at the main gates. I stay in the gardens for another several minutes, rehearsing some of the dance moves I have not perfected over time. Yesterday I had a piano lesson, foreign cuisine culture course and ‘speaking in public’ exercise. I didn't have time to rehearse the Summer Solstice dance. My mind trails off while I'm mid dance.
Magic. It's not the only thing draining me these months. It's indeed hard to conjure books from a distance and to train in illusion arts - but nothing compares to dressing for horseback riding and having a history lesson right after.
Unaware of my surroundings, too deep in my thoughts, I stumble on a stone. I get up, hoping no one saw me, dusting off my dress.
"West," I softly call. He appears right in front of me, at the ready. His uniform does not follow the rules of the palace, no matter if it's Winter Solstice or Summer one, he still wears the same vest and pants with ankle high boots.
"What do you need, Your Highness?" His voice was cool, I compared it to the winters here. A kingdom with a continental climate, hot summers, like this one, and cold winters. His voice shook something deep inside me, but I could never place it. Maybe it was fear of the unknown, like Aunt Verse had said. Maybe it was something completely different.
"Accompany me back to the festivities. Do not hide." I demand, letting him interlace my arm with his. There were regulations. Both of us knew them. But as I looked at him and saw nothing but a cold gaze, I knew they had nothing to fear. We would never overstep the boundaries set by title. Not when he looked at me this way - such... emptiness. And yet, the electric feeling of his lips on my index finger never left me completely.
The sun nearly set when I took a glass of white wine from a tray. I gulped it down in one go, to give myself courage. Mother appeared in the crowd, her eyes searching for someone. She found me, standing as far from the dancing plateau as possible.
"Norella, you must dance." Spica did not lie, then.
"May I choose a partner?" Mother's green eyes widened and for a second I saw myself in her. She looked younger when she was bewildered.
"Of course not, I already picked one for you," she waved her hand gracefully, like queens do, and a man with tanned skin appeared from the crowd. Our eyes locked and he smiled. I smiled back, bowing slightly. "This is Duke of Hyrr, from Vulpe."
Vulpe. I heard a lot of good things about the South kingdom. It bordered the Fae Isles, if being separated by sea counted as being neighbors. Smaller than us, not as powerful as the other Grand Gem Circle members, but important nonetheless.
"What brings you here, sir?" I ask, mentally shooing Mother away. If I were to do small talk, I would have preferred if she wasn't judging my every word.
"I heard Malachite's Summer Solstice celebration is small scale and casual, I like it this way. I brought gifts too, directly from the south-west," I grit my teeth.
"It's a pleasure to have you here, Duke of Hyrr. Do you perhaps have a name?"
"Santiago, Your Highness,"
"A pleasure," I shake his hand with a firm grip. He looks around, possibly shaken by such a display. I find joy in little things at this point.
Mother clicks her tongue and looks at the musicians. She claps her hands and the music tempo changes. It becomes an energetic melody, and the guests clear the way for us to join in the center of the plateau.
I realized that I liked being seen. Even if my movements were not perfect, and my eyes never stayed too long on the Duke, I still felt a semblance of power. It was feeble, but I reveled in it.
I felt West's eyes locked on me, following my every turn, my every swirl. I tripped on my own foot and the Duke held me closer, laughing softly. He was cute. Still, I turned my head a bit, to watch the shadowguard. I breathed in Duke's sugary cologne, and my eyes met West's.
I was too far away from the shadowguard to see the details on his face, but one thing I knew for sure, he was angry. His eyebrows were lifted, eyes cold. I smiled and turned away, facing the Duke until the end of the dance.
He had told me his name on a spring day, a month before my twenty-first birthday. His birth name was discarded when he joined the shadowguards. Subject led to another and I ended up touching his muscular arms and telling him of my favorite tea. It was best served hot when the sun just started to set. He liked talking to someone other than his colleague, East.
In the past, I noticed a second shadow following me. At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me - but soon I had realized a second shadowguard had joined. A shadowguard's job was lonely, one colleague did not suffice to fill up the emptiness. So, West drank raspberry tea with me, touching the hem of my dresses, thanking me for such a pleasant friendship.
Beyond duty and title, I smiled, as I reached for his thigh. West's ears perked up and his gaze turned darker. Weak, he was so weak, on his knees, as he laced my boots in the streets. He kneeled before me, who looked more mystical than his own people for a brief moment. I found myself craving those eyes, staring only at me.
Such was our friendship. We were close. Closer than I've ever been with someone. I finished the Apricus course, received the degree. He was always in proximity, smiling as if I was his only friend. I liked the way he caressed my hair with his long fingers. His face illuminated by the sun, as we sat in the gardens, and talked for hours. I was finally free from the Academy.
My time was mine, and mine alone. The lessons were over, now it was time to prepare for the next step - the preparations for the future crown on my head.