Once on Rhena, Viviana and the Glitches meet new allies...and enemies. Tension in the palace grows as the tyrannous Queen Saralee does everything in her power to prevent her daughter's marriage.
A three sided battle is coming, and it will shake t...
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, utterly and totally awed.
And not in a good way, either.
It had been eight years since I had worn anything but the old dress in which I had been imprisoned. The fact that it still fit me perfectly brought me to a grim realization.
I hadn't grown since I was twelve years old.
Of course, it would've been unreasonable to think that my body had experienced any significant development during my period of imprisonment. I was lucky to have been alive at all, with the level of nutrition I had been receiving.
However, the fact that I was still just over sixty two inches tall and weighed less than eighty pounds certainly did not help with the fit of my wedding dress. The dress itself was gorgeous, with several layers of fabric and flowery accents, and it matched my diamond tiara perfectly. However, it was made for a young woman- one that wasn't stunted, that is. It curved in places that I did not, resulting in an awkward, bunched-up look.
In short, I looked rather comic. My face was marred by a single, jagged scar that ran down my left cheek, from where it had split open several days ago. Although my hair had been washed, for the first time in more than three years, it still hung limply from my head and smelled of the dank, rotting recesses of the dungeons.
"Is the dress alright, Your Highness?" asked the Rhenan maid who stood behind me. "Do any alterations need to be made before next week?"
"It's alright," I muttered, although it was most certainly not. The last thing that I wanted to do was cause the already burdened palace staff any more trouble. Not to mention, it had been ages since my wishes had last been given any kind of importance.
The maid nodded. "The Queen requested me to bring the Prince to you," she said, revealing the small rat that had been behind her back. It had been dressed up quite smartly in black and white, with a red bowtie at its neck.
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The sight of it made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. At first sight, it was rather cute, with its little whiskers and pink ears. However, the moment this thought crossed my mind, I remembered that I was to be married to it, and the only feeling I had for it was total revulsion.
"What am I to...do with him?" I asked, taking the rat in my hands. It squealed loudly in protest, but I held it tightly to prevent it from escaping. The last thing I wanted was to be publicly punished for losing the "prince." The humiliation I was already facing was more than enough for me.
"The Queen wants you to get to know each other before your wedding," the maid explained. "She expects you to speak to each other for at least an hour every day up until the Festival."
"It's a rat!" I exclaimed in frustration. "My mother wants me to talk to a rat!?"
"I am only relaying the Queen's instructions to you, Princess," the maid said softly, not losing her composure. With that, she walked toward the door. I did not look back at her, but heard the sound of the door opening and then closing moments later, telling me that she had left the small room.
As soon as she was out of sight, I gripped the squirming rat in my left hand while frantically searching the wooden dresser before me for something to restrain it with using my right. Unfortunately, the small table was rather empty, and the only usable item I found was a bright yellow hair ribbon.
"I'm sorry," I muttered softly to the little creature as I pinned the rat down on the corner of the table, using the ribbon to tie it tightly to the wood. I used my Aura to secure the knot so that my future husband could not move.
As soon as this task was complete, I proceeded to remove my tiara and unzip my wedding dress, stepping out of it in a matter of seconds. The very thought of the dress and its intended purpose disgusted me. At first, I had consoled myself by making internal promises to my racing heart that even the Ice Queen wasn't crazy enough to force her own daughter to marry a jungle rat.
However, wearing the dress made my predicament feel far too real. Waves of emotions flooded through me as I changed back into my soiled dress, brown with the stains of old blood and filth, and all I wanted to do was sit down in the little, dressing room chair and cry my heart out. Yet, the tears did not come. It was as if all the sorrows I had endured over the years had rendered my tear ducts dry.
"Princess Tara?"
I jumped at the sound of the small voice at the door.
It was the maid. She had returned.
"Yes?"
She approached me slowly, scanning the room apprehensively as if searching for hidden cameras or Aural projections. When she was certain that the small, barely-used dressing room had escaped the Icehearts' notice, she lowered her voice to a whisper and began to speak.
"They're coming," she said softly. "Hold your head high and look straight at the moons, because they're coming to save you on the third day of the Festival."
"Who is?" I frowned, confused. The Flame had been decimated less than a month ago, and the Radicals' Flameheart Serum machine had been destroyed. There was absolutely no one with the power to stop the Icehearts now, if there ever had been.
"Aron Faerlen," the maid whispered. "They call him the Warrior of the Southwest. He has regrouped the White Hot Flame, and they're set to charge Glaisse sometime soon. Do not doubt in his success, because every servant in the palace has been made aware of his plans. We will stand behind him without fail, as will countless others."
A small smile crept across my face at the sound of this. A Faerlen. Descended from one of the most powerful warrior lines of Rhena. He was bound to be well versed in the art of warfare.
Yet, due to the timing of everything, he would only have one shot at saving the Empire.
