Silence Reigns

Chapter 1

Erielle's breath came in heaves; she swallowed repeatedly and released her grip on the heavy quilt fabric. Her fingers ached. She laid a hand on her heart to still its erratic convulsing. Even after the initial terror, her body felt dirty, contaminated. A cramp crept up her leg; she realized she had been unconsciously cringing.

Exhaling loudly, as if that would expel the heavy dread in her chest, Erielle threw the covers from her legs and dropped her feet onto the fur rug beside her bed. The dark of the room permeated her lungs as she took slow, deep breaths, but it seemed as if she couldn't get enough air.

A thin strip of white light burned a line on the floor at the base of the window across the room. She pushed off the bed. Her lead muscles weighed her down; she shuffled across the cold bedroom and opened the paneled window, allowing the cold light of the moon to flood onto the floor, onto her rumpled mattress.

Climbing onto the sill, Erielle leaned her head against the frame and watched the moon longingly. The light of the rock mirror was so pure and clean. I wish I could eat the moon.

Erielle watched the leaves of the cherry blossom shiver in the soft night wind, then drew the thin folds of her nightgown tighter around her body. It was the third nightmare she had had in the past week. She couldn't rid herself of them. Everywhere she went, every place she looked, she saw his face. The look in his eyes...

Erielle shut her eyes to the pressure of the tears. They squeezed out anyway, dripping from her chin and making dark spots on her nightgown. She didn't let herself whimper; that was more than she could allow herself to feel. Disgust filled her. What man would ever fall for a girl who could hardly sleep at night, much less keep her composure? Raggedly she swiped at the moisture glistening on her cheeks and wrapped her arms around her upraised knees.

She was glad that she had been granted her own room two years ago, when she made the request to her father. Only her insistence that sharing a bedroom with one's siblings was a display of peasantry, however, convinced him to allow her to move across the hall to one of the ninety-four spare bedrooms. Pontius was the kind of king who disliked non-tradition.

Though not as spacious or lavish as her younger sisters', the room suited Erielle—and without Constance and Anabelle taking up two-thirds of it, everything was hers. She had to share nothing. It was enough space to fit her gowns, shoes, a bed, dressing room, and a dresser, and though it had no fireplace, it was warm enough in the winter nonetheless. There was even an elaborate painting of a war scene on her ceiling—something she loved to gaze at for hours on end. And without her sisters hovering over her every second, her nightmares would never give her away.

It had been hard, prior to the move, when she and her sisters had shared a room. Then, Constance and Anabelle had been a constant source of questions, curious about everything, and to Erielle, a dangerous prospect. If she had said anything during her dreams—which she had, but it had proven benign—if either of her sisters had ever found out somehow, she would be devastated. And if Constance or Anabelle ever discovered the truth, it wouldn't be long until the entire kingdom knew.

Sighing to dispel the anxiety that threatened to suffocate her, Erielle lifted her body from the sill and slipped a cover over her shoulders before exiting her door and stepping into the hallway. Her bare feet softly slapped the cold marble floors as she felt her way along the dark walls. Not long after, the narrow hallway opened into the airy Edelweiss Hall, the white of its high-vaulted ceilings reflecting the patterned colors of the stained-glass west windows onto the floor. Color bounced around the room, from wall to wall to floor to ceiling, criss-crossing the air with hues of blue, red, and gold. She gazed at the night splendor of the castle, wondering if she would have seen this version of her home had she not had nightmares.

It was the only positive to her torture.

As she passed a guard in the anteroom of the court, he uttered a gruff "Princess" and dipped his chin in respect. "Do you require something, Milady?" he asked, taking a step out of his post.

"No; thank you, lieutenant," she said quietly, and continued on her way.

Her stroll took her through the high canopy of the castle, winding up flights of stairs, until she came to a monstrous room. Its walls were lined from floor to ceiling with shelves and shelves of books as far as the eye could see, with more of the same filling the interior of the room. Erielle tenderly stretched out a hand and ran her fingers over the spines of a few titles, then drew one out and cracked the cover; her eyes softened slightly. Legends of Donica was one of her favorites.

Climbing the stairs to the balcony, she settled herself beside a window overlooking the courtyard, gazed at the greenery below for a few moments, and then opened the book to read. Though she had read Legends of Donica a hundred times over, and though it was not a title that the king or queen would encourage a princess to read, she never tired of it.

Soon she was deep in the story of a young prince who gave up the chance at the throne for a life of piracy, giving all his earnings to the poor. The world melted around her, and she wasn't in a library, or a castle, or the kingdom, but instead on a pirate ship, hauling lines alongside men of brute and brawn. As she read, she imagined herself falling in love with the prince-pirate, living a life free from fear, learning how to sword fight and gamble and doing all things a princess shouldn't do.

The night passed slowly—though less so from the story's distraction—and dawn peeked over the horizon and fanned over Erielle's slumped form. Her eyelids fluttered in her half-conscious state; she closed the finished book and laid it in her lap. The morning rays drew her face like a flower; her head tilted toward the warmth.

If only I could feel as fresh as a new day.

As it was, she would hardly make it through her duties for the day. She, her sisters, and her parents were to take a ride through the country along the West Road toward Anoleda, as a token of goodwill toward the people. Inwardly, though she valued the gesture, Erielle had scoffed at the irony of it; Pontius had never been one who strived for good relations with the people. Throughout his rule, in every instance involving the common folk, Erielle knew it was his wife that turned the tide in favor of the people. Perhaps Pontius IX was King, but Hera was Queen of the Eastern Kingdom.

Eventually, Erielle forced herself to move, willing her body to maneuver down the steps to the lower part of the castle and to her chamber to dress.