A Tale of Frozen Flames

Chapter 2

I returned to my father's castle late in the day, just before the sun set on the still warm autumn hills of the kingdom. I had dismounted Felipe in the town square just outside of the inner castle walls, and walked us both up to the guarded gates. The sentries around the castle knew me well, and let us through without trouble. They had learned my habits of leaving the castle for days at a time, and mercifully did not object. Mostly because my father had not objected.

My father was the current ruling king of our land, the only human kingdom left on the continent. This castle had been in our family for hundreds of years, passed down from eldest son to eldest son since the founder of our bloodline had taken over the kingdom from its previous ruling family.

How many princesses had wandered these halls during those centuries? My kin, my distant family. I wondered where their descendants now resided, and if they had felt as trapped as I now do. If they yearned for something more to come from their lives.

I did not make a habit of pretending that my life was without its privileges. I understood that I had many things and opportunities that my counterparts in the surrounding city and the towns scattered throughout the kingdom did not have. There was always food, always a reliable roof over my head that didn't leak or falter or let in the cold during the winter. There were guards in every wing of the castle, all tasked with the responsibility of protecting my family, our wealth, our power and influence and comfort.

I had a certain level of safety and security granted to me purely by birthright. My father was a king, so I too must be protected as his legacy. I would be granted the comforts of wealth and high station earned centuries ago by deplorable acts of bloodshed and violence.

I shook away the thought as I stood at the entrance of the royal dining hall, where my family sat for formal meals. More often than not, it was just my siblings and I, our father off doing gods know what with gods know who. How he found the time to barely run this kingdom I did not know.

The air was warm with scents of baked breads and cooked meats, hearty aromas that made my mouth water after days of eating dried fruits and meats on old and forgotten roads. The long hardwood table before me was bedecked with a small variety of rolls, roasted game, vegetables, and small pastries. Above the center of the table was an elegant chandelier lit with too few old candles. At either end sat my two siblings.

"There you are, Stella." My sister greeted me from across the dining hall. Petra was the eldest of us three siblings, possessing a beauty like none this castle had seen since our mother's passing. She donned the same flowing auburn hair as our mother, which was now situated in a low braided knot at the back of her head, two gently curled strands framing either side of her unblemished face. The picture of elegance and royalty. "Where have you been? I've had news to share with you, but the guards haven't seen you in days."

"Oh, you know, escaping evil spirits, having wild adventures, the usual." Petra rolled her eyes slightly. I glanced sidelong to my brother, who was wholly unamused.
"What's your news, sister? It had to be important for you to keep it from me until this one showed up," he said, gesturing loosely to me with a lazy, outstretched hand. She straightened in her high-backed chair, her lips drawn in a tight line at the aloofness written all over our brother. I was surprised Petra wasn't used to it by now. Steffan's rude remarks, his inability to spare a moment's patience. Where I liked to jest with my sister, to get under her skin, he cut deep, either uncaring of his words'  impacts or purposeful in their hurt. I did not know which of these  intentions were true.

My older brother just picked up a roasted drumstick from a nearby platter and unceremoniously ripped into it. Not the behavior befitting the future king, but mimicking our father nonetheless.