The Point of A Dagger

Four

I stare at myself in the mirror on the vanity, scrutinizing every tell of exhaustion on my face. The deep circles under my eyes seem to be more prominent in the torch light. However, it does give my skin a glow, enhancing my fading tan from summer. Once the winter is upon us, my skin will pale, my freckles will fade, and the highlights in my brown hair will disappear, all to come back again in the summer.

Before my insecurities can attack my dark circles, Maeve applies a powder, the color of my skin, hiding them. I smile. In the mirror, I watch Camille twist my hair into an elegant up-do, leaving strands to frame my face. Maeve continues applying powers and glosses to my face, both working in silence.

They finish quickly, their routine perfected, ushering me into my closet to change into my gown. The girls dress me in a forest green gown, a satin material, hugging my curved torso, then billowing out into a ball gown, the spitting image of a princess, though a slit down the left side allows for my leg to be seen. Sleeves hug my arms, offsetting the scandalous deep v-neck. I smile at myself in the mirror.

I step into a pair of black heels, golden vines covering the back, while Camille decorated me with gold jewelry: simple stud earrings, a small gold necklace, and my mother's bracelet, a gold pendant engraved with her and my father's name.

"How long until dinner?" I ask Maeve as she enters the room, returning from laying out my silk pajamas on my bed.

"Ten minutes, ma'am. You'll be escorted in five," she says with a bow. I nod, turning back to the mirror, releasing a breath.

Dinner tonight will be intense. Worry for what Griffin is planning, if he's planning, what he'll say, do, fills my gut. Relations between Omadra and Saunin are steady, as are every other Land in the Realm; it's only Plora who has kept the grudge against Saunin.

One hundred years ago, the Red Queen of Saunin, wanted to expand her land. She thought that the Realm needed to grow, more cities needed to be built, expeditions on the Forgotten Sea needed to be made to find what else lies beyond the horizon. The rest of the Lands disagreed. The Realm is a sacred place, and to disturb the Land would be to dishonor Seafall. The Red Queen did not listen, and began sending expeditions. Though, none ever returned.

When the other Lands found this, they removed her from the throne, but did not wage war. However, the men and women on the expeditions were citizens of Plora, kidnapped from their homes. And we have not forgotten.

With a final glance in the mirror, adjusting the delicate gold tiara on my head, I walk out of my room, greeted by Ronan and another guard outside my door. With a small nod, they flank behind me, walking toward the dining room.

Soft music flows through the castle, sounds of piano and violin playing. Entering the dining room, a small orchestra sits in the back corner, playing the soft melody. Staff bustle through the room, placing things on the table, adjusting the silverware, lighting candles. The room is warm, the fire crackling in the hearth under the great clock. When the staff sees me, they cease their work, bowing. Nova and Erora, sitting on either side of the head of the table, my spot, stand, bowing as well.

Nova wears a night blue gown made of tulle, sparkles making the dress look like it's embellished with stars. Delicate sleeves fall over her shoulder, stopping at her elbows. Her white hair in a braid, falling over her shoulder, decorated with white flowers and silver jewels. Erora's dress is an off-white color, almost a beige, flowing off her body like water. The tulle is light, the bodice and corset, small, puff sleeves on her shoulders. Her hair is long, more of a silver-blue in the glow of the fire light, kinky curls falling to her hips. Both have bright blue eyes, smiling at me.

"Where is Price Griffin?" I ask, annoyed that he is late.

"He says he'll be along shortly, ma'am," a woman says, keeping her head down.