Chapter One
"I'll miss you, Lady Dagmar." Itaia said quietly. I winced, as I always do when I hear her use that title, which had not come into use at all until she woke me up with it on my thirteenth birthday. Before I had always been 'Dag' to her, but 'Dag' I was no longer, it was always 'Lady Dagmar', despite my pleadings. Now I usually let the subject drop, and Itaia seemed relieved.
She had been my maid for as long as I could remember, my parents had hired her as my nurse when I was very young and my mother was too busy for me, and she served me loyally still. Her hair had streaks of gray in it, she was comfortably plump and did not seem to mind, she had calm, kind eyes, and at the moment her forehead was lined with worry.
Turning to walk away, shoulders drooping, I suddenly felt I had been to harsh and to distant to the woman who was practically my mother. I stepped forward, turned her around, and hugged her. My eyes were at the same level as the top of her head, and her graying hair. "I'll do my best." And she knew I would, because despite my displeasure in the event ahead of me I was not one to sulk or be an ill sport and she had known me for all seventeen years of my life and knew this. "I know."
I sighed; it should not be this way. But even a princess can have little say in her future; and, being a girl, I knew that even if my father and mother had not been king and queen of Firnesin their opinions would still count above mine. They knew I did not want to go, although I had never mentioned it in their presence, but I was only a seventeen-year-old girl who happened to be a princess, and they knew what was best for me.
I turned to look at myself in the mirror again, and the work that Itaia had done. I was beautiful. But I was a princess, and to be anything other would be most unacceptable. The glittering jewels wound in my black hair made it appear blacker in contrast. Beneath the jewels my hair was done up in an elaborate braid wound many times around my head, until I thought surely it must bow with the weight of it. A chain of small, sparkling topazes was fastened around my neck, and the largest of them hung elegantly in the hollow of my throat. The genteel dress hung nearly to the floor, hiding the dainty slippers on my feet, and silk trailed several feet behind me.
As soon as I had heard the news and where I was required to go, Itaia had immediately taken me to the finest tailor in all of Itsiyrk, the capitol city where I lived. I was measured and examined and the tailor was given one of my extravagant ball gowns to inspect. I had even been allowed to choose the colors I wanted for my gown, as long as they were within reason, but I declined. So instead Itaia chose the colors she knew I looked most becoming in, pale green and an even paler yellow. I had sat staring out my window (as the dress was made) at the shadowy forest and, farther away, the space where the cliff dropped down to meet the sea, and I did not know of the beating the twelve-year-old apprentice girl received when she cut a length of green fabric too short. I did not know the long sleepless hours she spent laboring over the vivid, richly detailed embroidery on my gown as the event I dreaded drew nearer.
It fit perfectly, like it had been made for me. It had. I could hear the rustle of silk on marble as I made my way down the carved steps, leaving my parents and the castle that had been my home for seventeen years behind. The unofficial, emotional (on my mothers part) goodbyes had been said the evening before, but my mother's eyes still glistened as she leaned in slightly to kiss me on the cheek. My father dipped his head ever so slightly when I stood before him, but the set of his jaw suggested that he was still angry at my aversion to the place I was going. But I, a king's daughter, did not relent, I only curtsied slightly in return.
The gleaming courtyard of the castle was overly congested, people lined the stairs and crowded around the carriage and hung out of windows to see me in my entire splendor. I smiled quietly as I passed through them - for their benefit, because they expected it of me. Tucking my trailing silk train behind me in the correct fashion, I sat on the plush black velvet of the carriage and let my guard fall. My face fell with it, and I was glad the curtains of the carriage were so thick and dark, and that I was completely alone.
I knew the streets of the entire city would be lined with spectators, and my father would be further disappointed if I did not act in a more princessly fashion. So I dabbed carefully at my face with an embroidered handkerchief and threw open the curtains with a cheerful smile on my face. The people went wild, clapping and stomping and screaming and whistling and waving and trying to catch my eye (although I had long since learned how to avoid the latter).
The journey was long, but upon arrival I knew I would wish it had been longer still. We traveled out of Itsiyrk and through the shadowy forests, and along the sand-colored cliffs over the sparkling blue ocean. Meadows of tall, arching grasses and trees bowed low with the weight of glossy dark green leaves; butterflies with iridescent wings slipped around the carriage.
But I had seen this before and the discomfort of riding in a carriage, even a velvet padded one, for more than one day soon began to wear on me. Each night on the long month of our journey we stopped at an Inn, the most expensive one my driver could find. I almost looked forward to the long hours of dark, of which I slept little for having nothing to do in the day, but at least I was still and what was beneath me was still and I could have less shame if one or two tears slipped down my cheeks.
I should have been more interested in the land I was passing through, for it would be my own one day, but I could not make myself look with affection upon the world, and my eyes gazed dull and unseeing out the carriage window.
On exactly the thirtieth day after leaving my dear city, we arrived at the largest place I had seen since it. It was beautiful, even I had to admit it, but as we road through the streets I kept catching myself looking for the evil that was surely hidden just beneath the surface. But the roads were fairly clean; there was little litter and very few beggars or homeless children, the buildings looked clean and well kept, and the people I saw seemed cheerful and well-fed.
I wore that same dress as I had the first day of the journey as the carriage slid under a massive wall, and stopped. The castle was all sharp points and blindingly bright in the noon sun, and the shadowed bits seemed almost completely black in comparison. As when I had left Itsiyrk, people lined the streets and crowded into the courtyard before the castle, but these were not my people and I did not feel welcome.
The huge ornate cast iron doors of the castle hung wide open, and two stooped people stood in their shadow. But in the sunlight, although only a step behind the shadow lay, there was a tall man, perhaps even taller than me.
He had wavy black hair to just past his chin, and I conceded to myself that he looked indeed handsome from where I sat, in shadow myself. But then the door of the carriage was opened ceremoniously before me and my arms and legs moved before I could stop them, and I was blinking in the bright light reflecting into my eyes from the castle. I stood as my eyes adjusted, making all those small useless movements I had been taught so I did not appear foolish while I waited for my eyes to adjust, and was surprised that such a small thing could ever come in handy. When they finally had I saw that the man was approaching me, and the two stooped figures had come out into the light.
I took several steps forward and felt the weight of my braided black hair on my head and the pull of my dress against my hips, and I extended a pale hand as he stopped before me. He took it and kissed it, and I tried not to blush because he was very handsome, and then we walked back to the castle. The people cheered.
I felt my face drain of color as we walked up stone steps not unlike the ones I had walked down thirty days before, and then the two stooped figures were before me. The stooped man was making a speech which I did not heed, and the stooped woman was looking kindly into my eyes and telling me something, but all I knew was that I did not want to be here.
The fairytale princess stories never mention how unhappy the princess is when she is forced into an arranged marriage for the good of her country, and how very little they are allowed to marry for love.
