Aamae | To Crowns and Dreams | Book #1

Chapter One: Three Years Later

            She could do this. She had to be able to do this. It's only once a year and then she doesn't have to worry for another year. It was nothing, she told herself. It had to be nothing. Right?

A pinch on her side brought Aamae out of her thoughts, causing her to look at the maid next to her. The girl gave an apologetic smile before tugging on the corset once again, causing Aamae's already short breaths to halt for a second. The girl and the other maids moved on without a second thought. Before she knew it, she was wearing an obnoxiously gold dress, and the maids gestured for her to sit down so that they could do her hair. She managed, each step shakier than the last, but the maids either didn't notice or didn't bother to ask. Once she was seated at her makeup table, she gripped the edge to stop her hands from shaking as the girls got to work on her hair and makeup. She said nothing as they worked, focusing on taking breaths instead.

In. Out. In. Out.

It was only one night, she reminded herself. One night. She could do this. A flash of silver entered her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut to rid herself of the memory, her fingers tightening on her stand. No. She can't let that overcome her – at least, not today.

"Breathe," she whispered, and she watched in the reflection of the mirror as her maid pauses, her hand hovering above her hair, for a split second before going back to her work. A part of Aamae wondered if she was going to ask if she was okay, but the larger part of her knew the girl would never speak to her unless she said something first. And Aamae would never do such a thing, especially after what happened.

Once they were done, she watched through the mirror as they curtsied and hurried out of the room, leaving nothing to show they were there in the first place. It was exactly like she wanted, seeing how she didn't even know any of the girls' names. She refused to learn them. If she didn't know them, she had no connection to them. There was no way to remember them if anything happened.

A knock interrupted her thoughts, and she hesitated before calling to let the person in. She knew exactly who would be walking through the door a second later. He propped the door open when he entered, knowing she didn't like it when people of the opposite sex entered and shut it behind them. The first thing she saw was the long sword strapped to his side. Her eyes focused there for a second, wondering if it was the same one or if they got rid of it three years ago, before she saw the familiar black clothing of her personal guard. The same gold rose was sewn into the collar of his shirt, the same one that was on the hilt of his sword and the buckle of his belt. It was a constant reminder of what crown he served. Her eyes finally rested on his face, scanning the familiar angles that have been in her life for a little over four years, before meeting his eyes. They were still blue, and she was instantly reminded of the sky once again, this time gray and cloudy.

She cleared her throat and stood, clamping her hands behind her back to hide the shaking. She saw his eyes follow the gesture. He did not speak. Instead, he just bowed. She wondered if he wanted to ask if she was okay but kept her lips pressed shut. The line that was once blurry between them was now clear.

"Let's go, Macil," she said, her voice coming out clearer than she thought it would have. She walked by him, each step steadier than the last. She heard him fall in step behind her, just enough that he was far away but close enough that if she chose to glance back, she could see him perfectly. Once she was out the door, she heard the familiar click of her door closing, and she closed her eyes for a moment, seeing the flash of silver cross her mind once again. She let out a shaky breath before she opened the again.

Her eyes immediately met blue ones. Then he looked down, whatever ghost of a moment far away. Neither said anything as they made their way from her quarters to the ballroom where the event was being held, her steps slowing more and more the closer they got. If Macil noticed, he made no comment.