APRIL SYLKRANA, the only daughter of the High Queen, has to make things right. When a series of assassinations breaks out in the Imperial City, April takes matters into her hands and investigates, distracting her from a plot against her and the crow...
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2385 Iclis 14, Reshpe
The ballroom looked so nice with actual people in it.
April dusted her skirts which her maids had worked so hard to get ready for public viewing. Her blond locks tumbled past her shoulders and hung to her waist in luscious waves. A set of velvet curtains separated her and the marble-floored hall, blocking her from having the full view. From her place, though, she could already scan the crowd gathered there, each with their own agenda for today.
Sweeping dresses of different colors, vests and coats ranging from dark to an unflattering yellow, and the sound of heels clacking against the wispy floor assaulted April's periphery. A light cloud of laughter and forced pleasantries rang in the air, making the ambience both easy and heavy.
That's what summed Falkirta up, actually.
From a young age, April knew who she was and who she was supposed to be. This feast wasn't any different. She was the daughter of the High Queen, the highest Imperial power in all of Umazure, and the only heir to the crown. Her place in this city, in the midst of the bobbing heads of important people for the Imperial Race, was to be the next High Queen, the little Sylkrana.
And in this feast, she was expected to play that part and to play it well.
April checked her sleeves and her skirts one last time. Apart from the harsh digging of the pearls lining her collar and her bodice against her skin, her dress was pristine. It was a perfect cage to hide the brutish teen she had been becoming according to her maids.
She squared her shoulders, her mind already running over the weeks of etiquette and dancing lessons to get her up to speed for this very feast. She still remembered everything, it appeared. That's good. This feast was going to be a piece of ajilte tart.
She could do this.
So, with a feigned confidence rivaling a faux noble, April pushed past the curtain, the velvety softness brushing against her shoulders before dropping its hefty weight behind her. The throng of people gathered in the hall had never looked so thick now. With a trembling heart, April plunged into the fray.
Heads turned whenever she passed them by. Her smile didn't leave her face, forever stretched wide, graceful, and meant to look like she was pleased to see these people. The truth was she didn't even know any of their names. Faces, she could remember easily. But names? Never, even if her life was on the line.
Her own heels clacked against the floor as she flitted in and out of the crowd, exchanging pleasantries, asking about whose daughter and what tuscan. The words flew into one ear and out the other as soon as she turned her back on them. Did she actually talk to someone who said they're collecting zirloree as pets? Those insects, as pets? Unbelievable.
This was supposedly a feast to welcome some dignitaries from the other territories below them. Just a few halls from this one, the heads of those territories along with key members of the Falkirtan court would be discussing how to help each other in terms of trade and production. April ought to be in those meetings but she was shooed away to entertain the other guests in this feast.
