The atmosphere was frigid. Cally refused to pay attention and stabbed one end of the steak she had been served, her eyes lingering on the steamed vegetables, but the meat was a much better way of sending a message. She'd eat for real later, she soothed herself. Right now, she was making a statement.

Dimone coughed awkwardly. “Cally–” He tried to say.

Queen Isera smiled mildly. “No, Dimone,” She told him. “If Calavera chooses not to eat, she may do as she wishes. Our next meal is tomorrow morning, is it not?”

Cally's heart sank. Her mother never played around – if she said the next time she'd eat would be in the morning, then there would be no servant who would disregard her orders. Sighing under her breath, she let go of the steak and started eating her vegetables.

Isera continued eating quaintly.

Her husband, Cally's dearest father stared between mother and daughter, seemingly afraid to interject but wanting to.

Cally arched an eyebrow in his direction.

Alfred cleared his throat. “It should be fine to allow a midnight snack, Isera,” He said magnanimously.

Cally frowned. That was not what she had been expecting. Why…? No, this was far more suspicious than even simply inviting her to sup together. “What's going on?” She asked, her appetite gone in favor of distress churning in the pit of her stomach.

Isera took another bite. “Dinner first, Calavera,” She said.

Cally grit her teeth. “Mother–”

Isera ignored her.

Dimone stifled a smile and looked down at his plate.

Alfred, however, put down his cutlery. “Calavera,” He said. “The Queen and I have been in… conversation with the kingdom of Turanveil.” He hesitated and turned to look desperately at his wife.

Isera dabbed at her mouth with a small napkin, then turned to look at Alfred with lightly pursed lips, something unspoken crossing between them before the Queen turned back to Cally. “They have two children,” She said. “A daughter who is merely twelve of age, as well as a son who is but two years older than you.”

Cally frowned. Just a little younger than Dimone, then. “And this matters why? I've never met them, if that's what you're asking.” She stared pointedly at her father. “Whatever you may have heard about me, Father, I remain within the bounds of propriety.”

Dimone choked.

Alfred wilted.

Isera continued to stare mildly, though Cally could swear there was a glint of amused appreciation in her eyes. “Calavera,” She chided gently.

“I did not mean…” Alfred began, then broke off. “Calavera, please–”

This time, Cally was the one to interrupt. “May I know what this is about, Your Majesty?” She asked formally, hands placed on her lap and eyes viciously on the King.

Alfred stared at her, half lost, half flinching away, and even more rage curled through Cally. He couldn't even stand to look at his daughter? Then maybe he shouldn't have come back, then!

“You are to be betrothed,” He said quietly and quickly. “To the crown prince of Turanveil.”

There was silence. For the first time, all retorts and sharp quips died before they even left Cally's mind, stomped and massacred under the massive wave of confusion and concern that swamped over her. She turned to look at Dimone, trying to see whether he knew, whether he was in on the joke, whether–

But he, too, was staring wide-eyed at their parents. For all his joking of sending her off to be married, Cally was certain he hadn't ever imagined it happening, and certainly not this way. After seeing their parents’ marriage (no matter how many issues she might have with her father), Cally had always wished to marry for love. So had Dimone.

And now they were springing this on them? On her?

“You're joking,” She said flatly.

Isera shook her head once. “No. The prince is to come here immediately after he returns from a quest. We shall be finalizing the pact then.”

“But–” Cally stood up, uncaring of whatever tens of rules she was breaking. “Mother!”

Isera arched an eyebrow again and stared. “Calavera,” She said.

“This isn’t right!” Cally insisted. “I don’t have to–”

“Calavera, please–” Her father tried.

She shot him a furious look. “Don’t you start! You haven’t even bothered to try and be my father, and now you want to decide my marriage for me?!”

“Calavera!” Isera snapped. “Do not speak to the king that way!”

“I wouldn’t if he didn’t deserve it!”

“Cally–” Her brother tried to say, but he was drowned out under the sounds of scraping chairs and a fuming Cally.

“No,” Cally said again, just to be clear. “I will not be doing as you wish, Your Majesty, because unlike you, I actually care about my future.”

Alfred inhaled sharply sitting back, and Cally almost started at the bloom of emotion in his eyes that looked uncannily like guilt and hurt.

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But she forced herself to turn and walk away. Too little, she told herself. And much, much too late.

----------------------------------------

Isera swept into Cally’s room like she was walking into battle – dramatically. Her face was lined with disapproval and her mouth set in a hard line. “You must apologize to your father,” She said immediately upon entering.

Cally stared at her and growled. Or, well, as close as she could, considering she was absolutely not sure how growling even worked, really. Her mother probably trained it out of her so young that she didn’t even remember. “You know why–” She started.

Isera didn’t back down, but then, what had Cally even been expecting? It was her mother, after all. “The situation is a lot more complicated than you can understand. It is not merely a matter of choice, Calavera.”

Her scowl slipped the tiniest bit. “The marriage or the abandonment?”

Isera’s lips pursed. “He has not abandoned you.”

Cally scoffed. “Of course. And I’m incredibly excited to marry Prince Idiot.”

A hand flew up to cover Isera’s mouth, and Cally couldn’t help the small thrill that raced through her because that was definitely a laugh she was hiding. Still, her mother didn’t show it, and a second later, her perfectly unchanged expression was back in place. “There has been much happening in the kingdom that you do not know,” She said, perhaps a little gently, and that was more terrifying than anything else because her mother was never that gentle. “Alfred has been… extremely tried. There has been much he has been forced to endure.”

Cally's face burned. “I know it was war!” She said. “I was willing to try! He–” She turned away, trying to blink away her tears. “There were too many chances,” She said harshly. “But it matters not now. What does is that I will not marry of force!”

Isera inhaled deeply. “... Have I ever told you I had the same reaction when my parents arranged my marriage?”

Cally snapped to look in her direction. “Then why would you tell me to?” She asked, anger fading away as quickly as it came, much as it always did. Isera seemed to have that that effect on people despite being, as people often dubbed it (not in Cally's hearing, but close enough) cold and unyielding.

“Because Alfred gave me a choice,” Isera said gently. “And there was no other way.”

Cally’s brows knitted together, trying to piece together the story. “What does that mean?”

Isera’s smile was inscrutable. “It means,” She said, and the ‘unyielding’ part was definitely showing. “That you must, at the very least, meet the Turanveilian delegation when they arrive and give the poor boy a chance.”

The melting anger decided to solidify again because nothing was ever going to be easy for Cally. “Mother!”

Isera’s smile refused to slip. She sashayed out of the room, letting the door fly shut, and, if Cally’s ears were correct – and she had impeccable hearing, thank you very much – locked for the foreseeable future.

Calvera did not do the usual thing and thump wildly on the door because she'd tried that the last time her mother had done this, and she had (obviously) failed.

No, she decided, walking out the front door was not an option. But if this imprisonment was any indication, she needed to get out of here. Perhaps once she was away for a few weeks, her parents would come to her senses. Or, and this was more likely, Dimone would talk them down.

The more she considered the thought, the more appealing it sounded.

She knew nothing about how to go about living on the outside for longer than a few days, of course, but she'd gone out with Dimone a couple of times, one of them without their mother’s permission, even. How hard could it be?

She grinned, her energy rushing back at full strength, and a spring in her step, she rushed to the wardrobe. Only her next few outfits were placed there, the rest to be fetched on command, but she wouldn't dare ask. The servants would leave her alone for a while per her mother's orders, but if they had even an inkling–

The clothes were stuffed haphazardly into a bag – though she had no idea they took so much space! She had to leave some of the stuff behind – shoes laced on her feet (and thank Rulan that she had the boots she'd been wearing this morning and not the dancing slippers), and she was ready.

She looked out of the window, saw the glittering night sky, and– and she felt free.

Cally tugged open the window and grabbed the bedsheet, fashioning it into a kind of rope. It was in no way long enough to reach the ground, but then, that hadn't been her intention in the first place. Rather, she bound two of them to each side of the window, where the curtains were supposed to be pinched together, pulled at them to make sure they were mostly caught, and then took a deep breath.

Her belongings were strapped to her in the backpack, so she had no need to burden her hands with those.

Cally squeezed her eyes shut, opened them, and then slid over the side of the window and onto the small ledge that separated this floor from the next, though she could argue it was most made for her, and really, Mother should have had them destroyed if she didn't want Cally to use them.

She curled the makeshift rope around her hands – three, four, five times – and grinned, staring at the huge, majestic tree just out of her reach. The only tree, in fact, that she had not yet climbed. “Don't worry,” She told it. “I was only ever waiting for a day like today.”

And then she pushed away from the ledge with her legs and she flew.

For a few seconds, everything was perfect.

And then she missed the bough.

Her eyes widened in panic, and she twisted, her legs flailing.

The wall came back, closer than ever, about to slam her in the–

Cally shut her eyes, pulled up her legs, and miracle of all miracles, landed on them.

They hurt, but she had no time to think. She pushed again, and then again, and then flew, with a little less swing this time.

This time, the wind flared, and the leaves cleared and Cally’s legs were free to curl around the closest branch. She grunted, unwound one hand to grab one part of the tree, then the other.

The bedsheets fluttered free and down, floating mildly in the wind three floors above the ground.

Cally ignored it, smiling wider than ever. In the moment, it had been horrifying. But now? Oh how she wished she could do it again!

But in the interest of time, she needed to hurry. Any moment now, her parents (or Dimone, who did so love to bother her at times like these) would happen upon her empty room, and then her window of opportunity (which, as of a couple of minutes ago, had meant quite literally) would be closed again.

So rather than wait and enjoy the heady afterburn of what had just happened, Cally hiked up her skirts and grabbed the sides of the tree, working her way down like an experienced climber.

She landed on the ground almost silently, smoothed off the clothes, and then slid her way through the gardens all the way to the small opening in the walls that she and Dimone had gone through that once they hadn't wished for their mother to know they had left the castle. Of course, Isera had found out – that wasn't the point – but the exit had been stuffed with plants and blocked off by a bush and, therefore, undiscovered.

It took Cally moments to clear it out, and then she was squeezing through to the other side, jumping out on the wide road, smiling at her—

“Oh, darling,” A dark, unfamiliar, but pitying voice said. “You really should have stayed within the wards.”

The last thing Cally saw was a beautiful woman with braided hair and a shimmering green dress staring at her, one arm extended and–

Sparkles?