Shadowstone

Chapter 1

"Goodbye, Sebastian," Ariana whispered. He looked back at her, worry creased in his brow. The two of them stood in the dark corridors of the castle, illuminated only by moonlight.
"Are you sure you have everything you need?" he replied. Ariana nodded. She had to crane her neck up to look at him. Almost a foot taller, with blonde hair and blue eyes, he looked nothing like her. He resembled their father, while Ariana resembled the mother she never knew, long dead from childbirth, who had dark brown hair and even darker brown eyes.
On her eighteenth birthday, she and Sebastian were to be married. The thought terrified her, partly in fear of ruining their friendship, and partly because she couldn't bear the thought of  being wed to someone who shared the same blood that came from her father.
Ariana clutched her satchel nervously. She rubbed at the wrinkled leather folds. Sebastian had given it to her to pack as much as she could-neither knew how long she would be traveling. Inside lay food, coins, and several dresses. Everything else must be left behind.
"Thank you for everything," she said to him, avoiding eye contact. "I'll miss you." Ariana knew this was an understatement, that she was leaving part of her life behind, but she wouldn't show any unnecessary emotion. This was a brief goodbye, and she didn't want her brother's feelings seeping out from its carefully sealed chasm; nothing good would come from sorrow over what could not be undone. His face twisted into doubtful consideration. She opened her mouth to reassure him, but was silenced by a creak in the distance. Footsteps echoed into the corridor.
"Hide," she hissed, pushing him into the shadows of a corner. Her pulse spiked. She grimaced as the wall dug into her spine, and drew a sharp breath before the footsteps entered the hall. Sebastian stood rigid beside her. They waited as the echoes passed, the silhouette revealing a maid turning into the main chamber. A strangled noise escaped his throat. After the footfalls faded, they let out their breaths. Relief flooded over Ariana.
"Quickly," Sebastian hissed, waving to the courtyard door. "Before someone else comes." Ariana turned to leave, then paused. She was not sad. Really. Before her emotions crept out, she hugged and kissed him on the cheek before tiptoeing through the door, without stealing a glance behind.
The night air was warm and stuffy. The lush grass shone silver beneath the moon, lighting her way to the overpass bridge. A cricket chirped nearby. Her breath quickened with her heartbeat. It was finally happening. Freedom. Life. The bridge was closer-shortening the distance to the rest of the world that had always been kept from her reach. Her foot crunched on the stone gravel on the overpass. The cricket silenced. Another crunch, this time behind her. Ariana froze. The sound of grass rusting. Getting louder, nearer. She braced herself for thieves. Worse, wolves or bears. As she glanced behind, her vision was obstructed by a dark mass. A strong hand gripped her shoulder. She leaned back to look up. The king towered above her, his face stern.
"Father-" she gasped. "I mean, Sir-"
"Not another word," he bellowed. "I will not tolerate such an informal acknowledgment. Inside, Now." He latched his hand around her wrist then turned on his heels.
             "Let me go!" Ariana shrieked. His grasp tightened as he dragged her through the grassy courtyard. "You can't take me for your prisoner!" She spat. He stopped. Her stomach dropped at the realization of her mistake.
"Oh, can't I?" He cooed. His expression was unreadable, eerily serene. She stared, dumbfounded. "I've given you all you could need, Ariana. Provided you with food, clothing, a proper education, and a suitable companion to be the future heir." He resumed mostly dragging her back toward the looming castle. She bristled, opening her mouth to protest. He spoke without looking back, his voice rising. "You are unappreciative. I will not let you spoil the Royal family's reputation!" They were inside the castle now.
            Anger surged through her veins. Then guilt, for betraying her father. He was right; how could she be so selfish?
            "I want to decide my own life. I can't live like this," Ariana pleaded. Her vision began to blur. They turned through the corridor.
             "Then I'll give you another option," he sneered.
She fought back angry tears and struggled against his lead. They took a staircase down to the maids' quarters. She lost count of the twists and turns they took, lost in her numb obedience. They passed doors she never knew existed. She was afraid of what was in these parts of the castle. Her maid, Sala, had told her stories at night when she was younger about the ghosts that roamed the halls.
            Her lungs heaved as they approached the far east wing. The air was stuffy and raw. There was no evidence of life-wherever they were. The king was silent, intent of getting her to their destination. A last turn was made into a small corridor with a dead end. Her heart jumped. What was going to happen to her?
             She was being ridiculous. He was her father. He only wants what is best. But the king was unpredictable, and part of her mind whispered this as they approached the end of the dark hallway. Ariana made out a small door in the wall. A small wing, engraved into the wood and pointing to the right, indicated the east tower. They paused, the king's hold never slackening while reaching for a set of keys in his robe. She took a breath. She knew better than to speak when he was angry. Her free hand rubbed the permanent welt on the side of her neck. He unlatched the door and shoved her through the narrow doorway.
   Her mouth opened to say something-or scream. She shut it to prevent either. His eyes held a raging flame.
"This is where you'll stay until you learn where you belong," he grumbled, then locked the door behind her.
"Wait!" Ariana screamed. "Let me out!" She banged her fists on the splintered wood. "Just tell me what you want!" He would forget about her. He would for days, sometimes weeks, just like when she was a child. As she grew older, months. She would starve, or go insane, whichever came first. She choked on her panic and turned around frantically. There might be a way out. There is always a way out. Sala has always said so. She trusted her.
She took the short set of stairs up the tower room she was banned to. This was the castle's main tower, yet it was unused for an unknown reason. It was dusty and bare. Only a sliver of light came through the puny window in the wall, shining on a solitary piece of cloth-draped furniture. She got to her hands and knees and inspected the floor, for loose boards or passages that were strewn throughout the castle. There is a way out. She searched the corners. There must be a way out. In the wall, above her where the high domed ceiling closed her in. Nothing. She didn't know what to do. Her plan had failed. This wasn't where she belonged. She sank to her knees and let her emotions flow out in her tears.