Fate Without Glory

Chapter 1

                                                                                    The third of February, 1472

 

        Today I received an invitation to a masquerade ball down in the county of Dosia. The initials A.F. at the bottom of the invitation intrigued me. When my mother heard about the invitation, she forbade me to go there. I say I don’t care, and that I am going to Dosia if it kills me.

         I leave my scroll and blow out my candle quickly. I sigh as I hear the yelling of my mother and father from across the hall. Everybody in the kingdom knows they fight but I’m the only one, besides the guards and servants, who can actually hear them.  I walk silently over to my bed and crawl in shaking my head.

         I toss and turn all night, wishing my nightmares would end. I need my sister here with me. Meredith always comforts me when I need it. She’s 28 now, almost middle-aged. Luckily for me I’m 18, becoming 19 in a fortnight. Meredith has always been there for me, but she moved to Pogro. Every day I want her back. I wonder if she’s going to the ball. Oh, the ball! In two days I will be gliding across the beautiful floors of Dosia castle. I will have to go to Greta, my secret gown maker in the village. For a peasant, she makes beautiful gowns.

        “Good morning Cynthia.” My mother says almost as if trying not to cry.

        “Good morning mother.” I glance at her and purse my lips.

           I walk past her hoping that she doesn’t see my hair up. She says I have “one of a kind hair” and that I should take care of it. It goes past my shoulders and is a soft auburn. That’s very common in Muster, which belongs to my father entirely. Since it’s very common, I really don’t see why it’s one of a kind. But, I don’t mind.

           I hear my mother sigh and I turn around.

        “Cynthia, you’re hair is too beautiful to be kept up. And look, it’s falling out from its bun! Cynthia, really do try to take care of your hair. For your mother?”

           I roll my eyes and sit at the grand table.

        “Mother, I’m eighteen now. I think I’m very well capable of taking care of myself, and that includes my hair.”

           My mother turns away and walks out onto the balcony.

           Sometimes I wish my mother would actually understand me without thinking that I can’t take care of myself unless she’s right there next to me.

          I finally finish my breakfast and return to my room where I put on a gold lace dress and golden shoes, trying to get ready for a very important meeting.

         My mother guides me into the grand room, which is not all grand. Here, most hangings are approved.

        “Now presenting, King Maltier, Queen Christina, and Princess Cynthia!”

        We walk up to our chairs and sit. My father motions for the guards to open the doors. A peasant comes flying toward us as a guard pushes him from behind. I flinch at the sound of him hitting the marble floor. He gets pulled up and my eyes go wide at the sight of him. He’s actually quite cute for a dirty peasant.

        “What business do you have touching the royal horses peasant?” My father says spitting out each word like venom.

        “S-sir, I’m the r-royal horse groomer!” The peasant says frightened.