Emilie of the Royal Heart

Chapter 1: The Prince Has a Question

She survived the fires. She survived the raids. She survived the death of her family and she survived being dragged across the map to be presented to foreign royalty. Emilie survived it all and she took one breath after another and she still put wildflowers in her hair.

So why did it feel like the end of everything when she was escorted into Prince Aurora's reception room?

Ever since what the people here called the 'tragedy in Zuhia', Emilie had been living on the palace grounds at the mercy of the Countess who picked her out of the ranks of other refugees marched over the border. Emilie had been mixing with polite society for two weeks - enough to look and act like a noblewoman in a pinch - before a trusted palace guard tore her out of the Countess' parlor while she was having tea with the Countess herself. Countess Analeigh demanded she be released, but the guard explained that she was requested by Prince Aurora personally. There was nothing the Countess could do. She placed a kiss on Emilie's palm before the guard dragged her out of the building.

After being dragged straight through the palace grounds and displayed for Emilie's high-society acquaintances to gawk at, the guard led her here. He opened a tall, but narrow door made out of pale wood and he gestured her inside. Emilie almost asked if she could leave, but the guard's face told her that it was out of the question. She stepped inside and the door shut behind her.

Yes, this room felt like the worst of her bad luck, though she couldn't name the reason yet. It was a pretty room. There was a sofa, a chaise, and two lavish chairs by an ornate fireplace. The ceilings were lofty with the most exquisite illustrations of brave, Fellenite stories and myths in colors of paint Emilie didn't even know were possible. The trim lacing the room looked like an elegant ribbon. She felt as though she had been placed inside the most beautiful gift box.

Emilie took small steps inside. Her dress flowed after her like an echo on her movements. She swallowed and tapped her fingers together at her waist. This was the only dress in her wardrobe that truly fit. It was the first in a line the Countess vowed to have tailored for her.

The neckline was bold. It had been tailored from one of the Countess' courting dresses and she was a bold woman. The top of the dress swooped low across her bosom, enough to pull intrigue to the amber applique that ran across her neckline to the edges of the sleeves that caressed the curves of her bare shoulders. The rest of the dress was blush-colored with an alluring silhouette. The bodice was well-fitting to Emilie's torso and the skirt billowed out in a wide arc around her feet, a series of skirts filling out the space and swishing with her movements.

Emilie worried the dress fit her a little too well for today's occasion. The Countess told her that the pink made her sunny brown skin glow. Her hair was tied up half-way so that two twists whisked the front of her thick black hair away from her face, and the rest of the curls teased about her bare neck.

Though she feared to take too many steps into such a lair as this, Emilie peered about, still tapping her fingertips together. She couldn't find anyone else in this room. There were three statues stationed at the middle of the room and she could only convince herself to peek a little around the one on the right before suppressing a squeak and snapping back to her original position.

What did the prince want with her?

She exchanged pleasantries and, more recently, happenings and impressions with her palace acquaintances, but speaking of the prince carried a risk no matter what the words. She hadn't coaxed any information about him over any cups of tea or any walk among the gardens. In truth, she didn't believe she would need to. She didn't expect him to summon her personally. Not to his reception room. Not... alone.