Gazing outside at the raging blizzard, I am once again reminded of my father's anger. Anger because soldiers have entered from the South; anger because the day of my birth and the anniversary of my mother's death are nearing; anger because my progress does not satisfy him and the plans he has for me. A knock at the door snaps me out of my trance. My eyes dart to the noise, and I am met with a familiar face.
"Lady Eira, your father requests that you join him for dinner tonight," says Seren, a servant who I like to consider a friend in this cold palace. I notice that she seems more timid than usual.
I turn my head back to the window with a sigh. "Tell him I'm not interested." He never requests my presence unless he wants something from me. Otherwise, he has one of the servants relay general messages.
"Please, the Amarian Lords will be attending. I heard that something important will be announced tonight." My silence prompts Seren to step closer, and barely louder than a whisper, she says, "I will be sent to the dungeons if you do not attend, my lady." In other words, she will be harshly punished for my defiance. I couldn't expect anything less from the leading Lord of Amaris. Cold and cruel, he gets what he wants one way or another.
I nod my head and join Seren at my vanity, where she begins to work her fingers through my hair. Brushing and weaving, her hands move as if they have a mind of their own. In the flickering candlelight, I peer at myself in the mirror. Born to a human mother, I look different compared to those around me. A wider jaw, shorter ears, and a fuller figure. I hear what people call me. Half-breed, tainted blood, child of a whore. I know little of my mother, nor do I remember what she looked like, but it is comforting to think that she may have left a part of her behind with me in my appearance. I had heard rumours that childbirth was what killed her, but something deep down inside of me didn't believe it.
Lost in thought, Seren's voice pulls me back to the present. She asks if I am satisfied, and as always, her work is stunning. Spirals of dark hair cascade down my back, adorned with jewels that glisten like snowflakes in the ambient light. I express my gratitude, and Seren begins applying makeup to my face. The gentle caress of the brushes and her soft singing nearly lulls me to sleep. Completing her work, she steps to the side for a moment, only to return with a gown in her arms, mumbling to nobody in particular that it was commissioned for the palace earlier that morning. Similar to the ocean during a storm, the material flowed in a deep blue shade. Bare shoulders showed off my sharp collarbones, accompanied by long, flowing sleeves and a high neckline. The silver beading on the bodice was delicate and intricate, adding a subtle touch of grace. Seren helps me slip into the dress, and as I turn to face the mirror once again, I am met with the image of the daughter that my father wants the kingdom to see. Regality and elegance. A stranger returns my gaze.
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My footsteps echo throughout the empty corridor, and I wish I could just disappear. Unaware of the dinner's purpose, anxiety ignites in my core. Nearing the dining hall, it was so silent, you could hear a pin drop. There's no turning back now. I nod to the steward, and he swings open the towering, frost covered doors. "Entering Lady Eira, daughter of Lord Bylur."
The dining hall unfolds before me. Icicles, like daggers, spike from the ceiling, capturing the candlelight and reflecting an otherworldly glow across the room. Creatures of the snowscape are carved into the walls, guarding the space with a frosty elegance. The dark hardwood table takes the centre of the room, covered with various roasts, breads, and wines.
I manage a curtsy to appease the prying eyes and navigate myself to my seat. Among the watching guests, I could feel my father's eyes piercing into me. Summoning all of my courage, I lift my head to confront his stare. Triumph dances across his face, and I can't help but to roll my eyes and look away. I take this as a chance to survey those sitting at the table. As usual, the Lords of the surrounding courts are here, as well as a few unfamiliar faces sitting nearest to my father.
"As you all may know, Solarian soldiers have infiltrated our southern defenses." My father's voice booms, and the room goes quiet in anticipation of what he has to say next. "They know nothing of our secret weapon. To accelerate my daughter Eira's training, I have forged a pact with the leaders of the Krothar people. In exchange for access to our land's resources, they offer elite training." Cheers erupt from around me like thunder before a storm, and my veins turn to ice. This has to be some sort of cruel joke. The Krothar, known for their merciless and unforgiving training methods, would soon haul me away to the mountains to mould me into my father's own lethal weapon. My eyes wander back to the once unfamiliar faces, and I begin to recognise the Krothar emblems on their armor. I lock eyes with the youngest of the three, taking note of the smirk on his face, a silent promise of what's to come.
The cheering stopped as suddenly as it began, and all eyes turned towards me as they awaited a response. "I will not go." I felt proud that my voice did not falter, but that pride quickly crumbled away at the force of my father's fist as it crashed down onto the table. He jumped to his feet, and with a roar, he shouted, "You shall do as I command. Such power courses through your veins, and yet your progress over the years is disgraceful. You dare to defy my orders?" I feel his power wash over me, and in that moment, memories of a little girl locked away in the dungeons of the palace without food or water flash through my vision. All I can do is mutter, "No, father."
He returns to his seat with a smile, my surrender giving him a rush of confidence. Deep within me, my resentment for him grows. I hate everything that he's done to me, and what I can't quite prove that he did to my mother. I have trained my entire life. I'm at the top of my class despite only being half faerie, yet I still fall short of his expectations. The only thing left that I can do is somehow ascend to godhood, which even then would be unlikely to satisfy him. Wondering what exactly he expects from me plagues the back of my mind night and day.
YOU ARE READING
The Winter's Heir
FantasyAmong ice and snow, Amaris is governed by the cold and ruthless. For her whole life, Eira has lived under the iron rule of her father, whose anger is as fierce as the blizzards that sweep the land. Born to a human mother and a faerie lord, Eira stru...