Freedom comes at a price and a young Earthal princess must live the life of somebody else, even if it means facing evil threats and impossible odds.
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As someone who craves freedom, Princess Clarabelle cannot just stand by and let her life be take...
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CLARA'S HEAD was an aching mess. The last thing she remembered was being knocked out by an excruciating pain her body couldn't tolerate and the panic-filled eyes of Alistair as he ran to her.
Peeling her eyes open, she woke up in the most lavish and beautifully decorated bedroom she'd ever seen, momentarily confused by all the dainty, pretty things.
"Where am I?" she whispered, then coughed. And the sound of her voice made her heart stop its beat.
Her voice didn't sound like her. It used to be like melting honey; however, the voice she just heard from her throat was heavy and a little sharp.
She roamed her eyes at the strange setting before her, hitting every color of the pink spectrum. The rosy accent walls were punched with gold leaf patterns. A strong scent of wild rose in the air was too much for her liking, a stark contrast to her favorite vanilla fragrance.
Clara propped her elbows with a low grunt, hoisting her body up in a sitting position. She tried to will her body to adjust to a more comfortable position. The pounding of her head made things even worse.
Clara squirmed under the silky texture of the bedspread and swung her leg at the edge. She tore the thin curtain that covered the elegant four-poster bed aside.
Wait a minute, she thought as her toes wriggled over the fluffy, snow-colored fur rug. Everything came crashing down on her. Going back to when she first opened her eyes, the room indeed looked different. It was far from what her room was like.
Her rich gold and warm brown room were replaced by sugary sweet pink and lustrous white walls. Her cherry bookcases were replaced by paintings lined across the wall, creating a mini art gallery. She had never dolled herself up with too much makeup and assorted bling like the things sitting over the vanity table. Her favorite seat by the balcony was gone without a sign it had been there. Without her adorable tiny plants scattered across the room, Clara's lungs felt like inhaling bad air. Pink drapes and a pink bedroom bench continued the delicate tone. Everywhere she looked was just a repetition of colors. The whole layout of the room was unrecognizable as if the whole place warped into a different dimension.
This isn't my room, Clara concluded in her mind. Unless she was asleep for far too long that everybody decided to change her room's interior.
Her heart raced in panic. She wasn't used to being in a different place she had never been before. She suddenly yearned for her family's presence. It never crossed her the possibility of feeling lonely in a foreign place.
Now, her bravery in venturing into the outside world seemed to be a distant vision. She wanted to laugh at herself for wanting to flee, but now that she was probably somewhere unknown, she had the urge to come back.
