The chiming of bells resonated through the air like a heartbeat, each strike distinct yet blending into a harmonious sound. The vibrations danced across my skin, both calming and exhilarating. I could smell a combination of both sweet and spicy herbs in the air, with a mix of a woody and earthly smell too. I could particularly smell sandalwood which I wasn't really fond of.
I fumbled around with the miniature bowl that was given to me, as I was clueless about what was going on around me, I could only rely on my other senses, which were heightened as my sight had been compromised.
"Drink" A soft yet stern voice said, I obeyed, skeptical but cooperative. The liquid tasted like salty water, I recoiled as I drank. I felt as the bowl was taken from me.
"May the gods cleanse thee and rid thee of all evil energy," the priestess intoned as she encircled me. I felt splashes of water upon my body, each one catching me by surprise, the cold sensation sending shivers down my spine. I bit back my chuckles, each time as the water tickled, though I must have failed, for her voice turned sharp as she chanted.
"Lord Philis, purify her and grant her only pure thoughts," she beckoned to the god of purity. A sudden deluge of freezing water cascaded over my head. I shuddered as it seeped through my garments, clinging to my skin.
At last, the blindfold was removed. Light pierced my vision, forcing me to squint as my eyes adjusted. When I could finally see, I found myself under the scrutiny of many eyes—the head priestess, dressed in white flowing gown, her face veiled in sheer white, young and beautiful beneath the fabric, and other women dressed alike, I assumed were priestesses, stood solemnly in a line, with some holding incense, and others had their hands clasped together chanting.
I stood in the middle of the lake, water trickling down my white gown, which clung to me from neck to feet and was cinched at the hip with a loose white belt. My gaze drifted to my mother. Her eyes were closed, her lips murmuring words I could not hear. I clenched my fists. I could scarcely believe what I had endured. And yet, this was only the beginning.
After the cleansing, I was locked away and commanded to pray for forgiveness and repentance. My mother was a devotee, unwavering in her faith and rigid in every ritual.
The last time I had stepped beyond my chamber, I could hardly recall. I knew I was being punished, but to strip me of my daily routine entirely was beyond cruel. For the first five days, my windows were hammered shut, with not a single ray of light to be seen, with guards stationed at my door the whole day and food that tasted like ash brought once a day at night to my room and an instruction to meditate on my wrongs, I was to dress in white apparels that could scarcely fight the cold with my soft bed replaced with wood and straws, every morning, the maids would come in and make sure I washed in basil filled bath, I was made to write fifty copies of the virtuous lady text, all these I endured for five days, before my room was returned to its original condition, but I was still under restrictions and surveillance. Not being able to attend to the rest of the celebrations was the least of my concern.
No more tea. No more books. No more lectures. My letters were seized, I couldn't send one, and neither could I receive any. Even though I had never been fond of my dull tutors, I missed them the most. No more friends—though, were they ever truly my friends? At least they provided entertainment with gossip of nobles and commoners alike. The only thing spared was my ink and parchment. But what use were they? I had no inspiration to paint. When I tried, my hands conjured only darkness upon the canvas, images so dreadful that even I recoiled. I had tucked them away, unable to bear the sight of my own torment. Despite everything, my father had made himself clear. But I had not learned the lesson he so eagerly sought to teach me. I had not apologized, and he had not lifted my punishment. Neither of us would surrender, but I wondered if he knew of the severity in which these punishments was meted out.
I had awakened early this morning, the incessant chirping of birds outside my window sounding like a battle cry. I lay on my bed, void of interest in anything. My days had followed this same dreary pattern for a while now.
By midday, the sun burned bright in the sky. I gave up on lying in bed and attempted to occupy myself. Seated by the window, I gazed down upon the castle gardens. Below, servants bustled about their tasks, guards marched in formation, and maids chattered, giggling amongst themselves. They lived such simple lives. How I envied them, but instead I was confined to my room, a strict punishment for my adventurous attempt.
With a sigh, I crushed yet another failed attempt at painting. My tenth wasted parchment. Would this torment never end? How grievous was my crime? My eyes drifted to the shelves where my books of poetry and tales beckoned me, promising adventure and romance. Yet, I could not bring myself to care.
A knock at the door drew me from my thoughts. A young maid peered inside before hurrying in. She bowed her head timidly.
"Your Highness." A small smile played on her lips.
I scrutinized her. "Who art thou? I have never seen thy face before." i looked her up and down, irritated by her presence as she was a stranger, a maid who did not serve me directly, how did she get passed the guards?.
She fiddled nervously with the hem of her gown. "I work in the laundry section of the palace. My grandmother sent me."
I raised a brow. "Thy grandmother?" i asked wondering what i had to do with her grandmother.
"Grandmother Jasmine, Your Highness."
At that, I leaped from my seat. "Lady Jasmine!" My heart swelled at the name.
"She feared thou might be feeling down, so she bade me bring thee these cakes to lighten thy mood." She unraveled a cloth, revealing sweet confections nestled within.
"Are you Ashley? We played together as children." It had been so long—twelve years.
A delighted smile graced her lips. "Yes, Your Highness. Whenever you sneaked into the kitchens, we would make-believe, playing with sticks and sand, and cooking with empty containers and sand."
I beamed. She had grown so much, just as I had. A fine young lady now, with rosy cheeks, chestnut hair, and warm brown eyes.
"Thank you, Ashley. I am glad to see thee again." An idea struck me, and I seized her hands. "Come! Set the cakes down and sit here—I shall paint thee."
"Or rather I'm done with painting; entertain me with stories of your childhood" I lead her to an empty chair in my room
Her eyes widened in panic. "Oh, Your Highness, I am not meant to be here. I simply know one of the guards—"
"Then do not be afraid. No one enters my chambers since my punishment."
"If I am caught, I shall be whipped. I am but a laundry maid, not one who attends the royals." Fear etched across her face.
Disheartened, I released her hands. "Very well, Thou art free to leave." I said, as my hope of company was shattered. I had my personal maid but she was a nuisance.
She exhaled in relief, hastily making her way to the door—only to rush back inside a moment later, her face pale as death.
"Your Highness—the Queen approaches!" she stuttered, my eyes widened in disbelieve.
My breath caught. At this moment? I scanned my chamber for a hiding place.
My gaze landed upon the wooden chest at the foot of my bed, that stored precious garments and keepsakes as well as clothes i was tired of. Without hesitation, I dragged Ashley toward it, flung it open, and motioned for her to climb inside. Shutting the lid, I dived into my bed, assuming the posture my mother expected—silent, repentant, and buried beneath my pillows.
I buried my head under my pillows as my door was thrown open. My heart pounded wildly, I peeked from beneath the covers as my mother strode in, flanked by five of my maids—Anna, Gretel, Dana, Kelvis, and Lena—along with Stephanie, my personal maid. She took long, deliberate strides, her voice ringing with excitement and urgency. Her hurried steps and gleeful tone unsettled me. Such excitement was rare from her. This meant only one thing—this was bound to be something detrimental to me.
"Rheda, get up!"she commanded.
I shot up quickly, adjusting my garments as I looked at her, bewildered.
"Mother, what has happened?"
"Great news, Princess," she said, emphasizing my title as always. She never failed to remind me of my status. She motioned to the maids, and my maids descended upon me, surrounding me, hands reaching out, pulling at my dress.
"We have received word from Onccort. The king of Onccort has graciously accepted our proposal—Prince Tomen, his second son, shall be thy betrothed."
"What?!" I reeled in horror. My voice sharp with disbelief. The maids startled at my outburst, yet continued to strip me of my gown, undressing me with practiced efficiency.
"Do you not remember? You two played together on these palace grounds as children," she added nonchalantly.
"Mother, this is too soon! I am too young to be married!" I argued as they guided me toward the bath that had already been prepared behind a drawn curtain.
She scoffed. "Nonsense, Don't be ridiculous. You turn eighteen in three months. When better to marry than now?" she countered, stepping forward.
"Mother, no! I barely even know him! I cannot be married now—I do not want to!"
She rolled her eyes and groaned, ignoring me she waved a hand to dismiss my protest. The maids began scrubbing me, and she left the bath chamber.
As I sank into the warm water, dread coiled in my chest, despair settling over me like a thick fog. Prince Tomen? To be wed to a childhood acquaintance whose face I could scarcely recall? It wasn't marriage itself that terrified me—it was the absence of choice. I understood my duty—but if I were to marry, should I not at least have a say? Should I not marry someone of my choosing?
The bath was over too soon, and I was wrapped in a sheer white cotton cloth. When I stepped back into my room, my Mother paced around my writing desk. Atop it sat my favorite vase, an exquisitely crafted piece that held my parchment, quills, and delicate silver inkwell. She traced a finger along the beautifully painted ridges, her expression unreadable.
"Mother, did you wake this morning with the sole intent of torturing me with this horrifying news?" I asked, my voice thick with frustration.
She arched a brow. "Horrible news? This union will strengthen our kingdom, indeed a great alliance between our powerful nations. The nations of Stanum and Banon have always posed a threat—ruffians, the lot of them. This marriage will make us stronger, more feared."
"No, Mother! We have defended our lands for over seven hundred years without selling our daughters like cattle! Why must I sacrifice my life? My happiness?"
"Silence!" she snapped.
Before I could react, she seized my vase and hurled it against the wall. The shattering sound cut through the room, and the maids flinched as I let out a horrified gasp.
"Why must you always rebel? You defy every command given to you, you argue against everything you are told. Where have you lost all your manners?" she seethed.
I clenched my fists, breathing heavily, trying to steady myself.
"Do you not understand?" she continued, her tone growing harsher. "Years ago, our kingdom thrived because magic was on our side. Now, no one dares practice it unless they wish to lose their head. Our power must come through other means. Through alliances. Through you."
I stared at her, my thoughts whirling. It was true—no one had practiced magic in Albus since the reign of my grandfather. He had outlawed it, punishing any who dared wield it with execution. I had never questioned why.
With a snap of her fingers, the maids sprang into action, retrieving measuring tapes and fabric samples. They stretched the tape across my body, noting my measurements.
"What is this?" I asked, scowling.
"You don't intend to wear your old clothes to receive Prince Tomen, do you?" she scoffed.
I crossed my arms in silent protest.
My mother's voice broke through my turmoil. "Prepare thy heart and mind, child" she continued. "According to the letter we received, Prince Tomen arrives in three months—just in time for your birthday."
She tilted her head, smirking as she grasped my chin. "At least be grateful—you already know your betrothed."
"Mother… do you even care about my feelings?" I whispered.
"Of course I do," she replied coolly. "That is why your father and I have made this decision for you. You are but a girl—what do you know of your own feelings?"
Fury swelled within me, but I swallowed it down, for I knew—arguing would only fall on deaf ears.
With that, she turned on her heel and swept out of the room, the maids following obediently. The door clicked shut behind them.
The rage boiled over inside me, I let out a scream, thrashing about, pulling at my hair. My hands reached for whatever I could grab—books, cushions, anything—and I hurled them in every direction.
Some people had the audacity to compare me to my mother. A "kinder" version of her, they said. But how could that be? Even a kinder version of my mother was still cruel.
I collapsed onto the floor, my body heaving with sobs, my fists pounding against my chest as if I could release the pain trapped inside.
The trunk creaked open. Ashley stepped out cautiously, kneeling beside me. Gently, she rubbed my back, her touch warm, comforting.
I lifted my tear-streaked face to her, my lips trembling.
"Leave," I whispered.
She nodded, silently rising to her feet before slipping out the door, I was alone once more.
I held myself as I forced myself to calm down until all I could hear was myself sniffing.
I stared blankly into space, as I heard a rustle, I shot a glare to the source of the sound, to see a movement below my door, it looked like a letter, it was slipped through the little crack below my door, I heard a faint scuffle—like someone retreating hastily down the corridor.Then silence.
I moved cautiously as I took it in my hand, the parchment was stiff, old, its edges scorched. A faint symbol—an unfamiliar sigil—had been etched in the corner, barely visible unless tilted against the light. Slowly opening it, it read
"Beware the wolf in noble's clothing, with smile that conceals the dagger poised at Albus's heart. The serpent approaches under the guise of ally, with whispers sweet as honey but venomous intent. Trust not the shadow that walks in light, the hourglass empties swiftly- vigilance is your only armour."
"What does this mean" I wondered, "who sent this" agitated I banged on the door frantically.
"Anyone there? Guards, Guards" I banged loudly but no one answered, It was as silent as the night. My heart beat fast in my chest, as I perceived impending danger, for I had never received a message of this fashion before.