Weaving Moonlight

Mother Dearest

Her grey eyes glittered with sorrow as she looked down at the prince. Her face became his world in that moment. Prince Stefan had had this dream before but he was no closer to understanding who this woman was. Her dark chestnut hair framed her porcelain skin as she cooed at him happily. Yet all the while, her eyes revealed everything. Something was wrong, and Stefan already knew what would follow. He watched her as she then stepped back, saying. “I love you. I have to go but I hope we will one day be reunited.” Then she faded into the shadows, gone.

Stefan woke with a start, and saw that the time was three in the afternoon. He had never been one for normal bedtimes, and as he had grown, he had begun to find it increasingly difficult. His servant and dear friend, Taravati, had called him a bat, and whilst he was nocturnal, he refrained from sleeping upside down, as she had joked. He wanted to know who the woman was, but there was no one to turn to. Refusing to let the dream shake him, he pulled the cover back towards him, and reattempted to catch up on his sleep. Unfortunately, an intruder who banged the door open disturbed him.

“Who dares?” He yelled, throwing his covers once more. Taravati stood before him, in a simple green tunic. Her sleek black hair was fashioned in a high ponytail and her caramel eyes were wide. She seemed to blush and quickly turned her face, smiling.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but-”

“Look at me when you address me.” Stefan demanded. She raised her brows but did as she was told. Then Stefan understood. He was shirtless, and they were alone in his private chambers. The thought was enough to make him turn away as well.

“Please explain to me your reason for barging into my personal chambers.” Though his words were polite, his tone was near venomous. Some people were not morning people; Stefan was not an afternoon person, at times.

“I thought you would be sleeping and you would not notice. I did not wish to waste time and to be honest, you don’t sleep for long but when you do, you are like the dead.” She explained, biting her bottom lip in nervousness. She was being completely insubordinate of course but Stefan overlooked it when she spoke her last sentence. “And you mother is here.”  Stefan’s heart practically skipped a beat.

“What? Why is she here?”

“She says she has news to share.”

“She could have contacted in advance.” Sleep was now at the back of the prince’s mind. It could wait, but his mother could not. He got out of bed and headed towards his bathroom. “Please tell her I will be with her as soon as possible. Meanwhile, try and entertain her.”

“Entertain her? How?” Taravati’s eyes showed the fear she dared not begin to voice, but her outrage resonated clearly in her voice.

“I do not know. You were once a part of the Nisyrai nobility. Think of something, and quickly.”

“Thank you for the reminder.” Stefan called her his servant, but that word implied that she had her freedom. She was by law his slave, and it was something that he often tried to make her forget. She was his friend and as long as she was in his care, she would be treated well. With his mother here, however, he was to remind her of her true place, lest she forget herself.

When Stefan was ready, he arrived in the living room area reserved only for his mother’s visits. The ceiling was decorated with spectacular frescos of cherubs and musicians. The floor was carpeted with exquisite rugs on top of the marble floor. The room was furnished with grandly dressed chairs, and grandfather clock that opposed a fireplace. The queen was draped in a casual manner on one of the long sofas, showing of her marvellous flowing red dress. It hugged every curve quite nicely, and the length of it gave the illusion of the sofa being consumed by fire.