LOCATION: THE CRUCIBLE, 100TH FLOOR
PLANET: LAPIS DIVINUS, ORION LUMINARY INSTITUTE
YEAR: 1 | DAY: ?? | TIME: ??
The maid turned the corner, and two guards stood on either side of a set of very tall, wainscoted wooden doors.
The maid bowed to Kaela, grasping her wrist as a gesture of encouragement, and turned to leave.
Kaela inhaled deeply and slowly released it while the guards pulled the heavy doors open. They groaned lightly against well-oiled hinges.
Time to see what this is all about.
She took a few steps forward and her breath caught in her throat. The throne room was magnificent.
The ceilings were nearly three stories high, supported by large, white beams every twenty feet or so.
Frescoes of various scenes, both heavenly and secular, were painted into the curved ceiling. Kaela wondered how the artists had even reached those heights, let alone paint such gorgeous work.
Long benches were arranged throughout the audience hall, making it feel like a cross between a church and a throne room.
Down the center, where Kaela was standing now, was an aisle laid out in soft, dark gray fabric. It led from just inside the doors along the entire length of the room, ending at a set of five stairs and a raised dais.
On the dais was a grand throne laden in gold and silver, with two ornate chairs arranged on each side of it.
A man sat on the throne writing on parchment with a quill pen, and another sat in the chair next to him, leaning in and talking.
She recognized her brother in the scenario from her vision. This was, obviously, the King and the Prince.
“Ah, Kaela. Come in,” the King said. “I was just writing up my decree for the ceasefire.”
“Ceasefire?” she asked.
Maybe this scenario won’t be all perfume and silk…
She could feel her Phantom Blade calling to her, as if it had been idle for too long.
Kaela pushed those thoughts away and tried to take in everything around her.
“Yes, daughter,” the King replied. “The ceasefire. Your betrothal to Prince Lucien Seraphen is now official. You are to leave tomorrow morning.”
Kaela wasn’t sure what to say. It’s not like she’d come to care about any of the people here, in the thirty minutes since she’d arrived.
“How long is the journey, and who is coming with me?” she asked.
The Prince laughed.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Have you lost your memory, sister? It takes a week by carriage, and you will be going alone. Why would you need anyone to come with you?”
Kaela shook her head. She was standing on the carpet, twenty feet away. They hadn’t even invited her to come up the stairs.
“Not even my chambermaid?” she asked.
Of course Kaela didn’t even know the woman’s name, but she had been the only person so far to show any kindness. Not that she’d been here long enough to interact with anyone else.
The Prince laughed.
“You have bested all of your instructors. In archery, in swordsmanship, in unarmed combat. Those bastards in Seraph’s Hold have no idea that we are sending a lion into their midst. You don’t need an escort.”
The King just nodded, finishing up with his quill and handing it to an attendant, along with the small writing surface he had been writing on. He turned to Kaela.
“I will hear no more complaints from you. We have discussed it enough. Both sides have lost too many in this war, and it’s starting to spill over into Goldenvale, destroying the crops both kingdoms rely on for sustenance.”
Kaela perked up at that.
Finally, some detail to work with here…
“I see,” she said, urging him to continue. “Do you have any diplomatic tasks for me once I arrive?”
The King looked up at her as if she were simple.
“Diplomatic tasks? What are you talking about?”
Kaela ignored the insulting glare.
“If you are marrying me off like this, I assume you wish for me to—”
The King scoffed.
“What I wish is for you to do what you are told. You will get in the carriage tomorrow and you will marry Lucien Seraphen next week upon your arrival in Seraph’s Hold.”
“That’s it?” Kaela asked.
“What else would there be?” the King asked. He and the Prince exchanged a glance and started laughing. “You’re a woman. Produce an heir as quickly as you can, and cement this alliance so we aren’t back at war again in two years.”
Kaela just stared, dumbfounded.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” the King asked impatiently. “Your servants are already packing your things. Go. We have real work to do here in planning our retreat from the war-torn fields.”
Kaela was frustrated with the dismissal. Surely they had more to say to her before she left?
But the King and Prince were already onto other matters, and a guard tapped Kaela on the shoulder.
“Princess Kaela, please remove yourself from the chamber. Your audience with the King has concluded.”
She hissed at the guard, who took two full steps backward, but then held his ground.
“Fine. Goodbye then, father and brother. I wish you well.”
“You too, daughter,” the King said, not bothering to look up from the map he and the Prince were poring over. He just waved a dismissive hand in the air, before returning to the matter at hand.
All the way back to her chambers, Kaela had one thought on her mind: this place sucks.
“They’re going to marry me off to stop a war, and all they have to say is go produce an heir? Who are the bastards here?”
She spent the day in her bedroom, helping the maids pack her things. They kept saying they would take care of it, but it was unlike Kaela to sit idle while others worked on her behalf.
Well before dawn the next morning, Kaela was led toward a waiting carriage. The back was laden with five suitcases, strapped down tightly with well-tied lengths of rope.
One coachman sat atop the carriage, wearing white gloves and a black top hat. The carriage was pulled by two horses harnessed together, one brown and one black. Their breath fogged in the early morning chill, and their muscles glistened in the torchlight as they restlessly waited to be sent into motion.
The carriage was unmarked and unremarkable.
There was no indication that it contained within Princess Kaela of Caerwyn, on her way to marry Prince Lucien of Seraph’s Hold.
The King was not there to see her off.
The Prince was not there.
There were no guards.
Only her maids escorted her, each of them crying and wishing her well.
As Kaela climbed into the open door of the modest carriage, she turned toward the castle one last time. Three floors up, sitting in a window and crying into a handkerchief, was the Queen.
She waved goodbye, and Kaela returned the gesture.
Then, she leaned back onto the cushioned seat of the carriage that would be her traveling home for the next week. Her maid, sobbing loudly now, closed the door and stepped backward.
The coachman yelled out, and the horses began a slow, steady trot forward.