The Curse of the Banished Book 1: The Spare Prince
Taevon was a cursed child. A child who's mother died during birth. Unfortunately, being cursed and royalty did not mix well with the people of his country. Trapped in an endless cycle of humiliat...
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Morning creeped over the horizon. I watched as the sun began to peek from where I laid in bed. Normally, I would have the curtains closed so no light could creep through its thick folds. But I couldn't sleep. The window was better than staring at a blank wall. I had gotten up a few hours prior to opening the drapes before I laid back down in my bed.
Rolling over onto my back, I lifted my arm and let it rest on my forehead. Unfortunately the view wasn't as good as my window. I let out an exasperated sigh as I finally decided to give up on any hope of sleep. I sat up and turned the knob to my lamp, putting it on a low setting. My eyes slowly began to adjust to the light when they rested on the book on my bedside table.
The golden letters spelled out the title to my stepmother's book. If I was being honest, I had completely forgotten about it the day prior. I was more focused on my visiting brother and sister-in-law. Not to mention the dispute between my father and I.
I had nothing better to do. So I picked it up and slowly began to scan the pages. At first, I was skeptical, not expecting much from a young writer-or at least not much from her-but I quickly changed my mind. Perhaps she knew me far more than I'd care to admit, but certainly seemed to know me far more than I did her.
The story followed a girl roughly my age who was seen as nothing more than a regular milk maiden. She was then accused of stealing from a Lady. Everyone believed the accuser over her due to his social status. Scorn and mocked, she was forced to labor for the Lady to repay her. Everyone hated her for a crime she never committed, for a reason she had no true part of playing.
I was never much of a fictional reader. The ones my brother always read me usually followed a dashing hero everyone loved who rid the land of great evils. Nothing I could relate to. Nor could I expect to have a hero suddenly appear out of nowhere and rid the land of all its cruel treatment and beliefs of the cursed. Yet I was nearly ninety pages and felt more connection to a fictional milkmaid more than I did my own father. It felt wrong on so many levels, but nice at the same time.
For a woman who grew up in a noble home and a supposedly ideal life, my stepmother had an odd understanding of what I was feeling. Unless her life wasn't exactly ideal or she could just have noticed the injustices some people are forced to suffer. Of course, I would know if I actually tried to get to know her. But I wasn't certain if I was actually ready to build a relationship with her. The only mother I had died during my birth and had to grow up facing the horrors of it.
A knock sounded on the door, pulling me out of my book. Suddenly, I realized that the sun was up. "Yes?"
"Are you gonna sleep all day?" My brother inquired. Since Ingrid didn't feel like traveling back to their castle on the same day, Raevon and her stayed the night in his old room.
"I'm not sleeping," I retorted.
"Fine. Are you going to stay in your room all day? Thought we might go for a ride or something."
