Of Roses and Thorns

Chapter 1

    In the grand region of Kahn, there was but one kingdom that stood above all others. Far past the mysterious Valley of the Gaille and to the north of the restless harbors of Kyalla lay the bustling kingdom of Castille. Surrounded by plush hills, plentiful farmland, and prosperous mines, Castille was the heart of Kahn at the cusp of its glory. At its center, merchants could be heard for miles in each direction, advertising their latest wares from across the region. The scent of spiced meat and hearty ale was so perforating that it clung to the skin of commoners as they passed through the square. Its grassy woodlands were so amply filled with game and wildlife that the butchers all had rotund stomachs from never having missed a meal. The chosen nobility lived in their splendid stone houses on grassy hilltops and wore expensive finery. Atop the largest hill lay a sprawling palace so magnificent that one would assume that only a great ruler could possibly abide there. And that assumption would be entirely correct, for it was said that the man who ruled Castille looked down on the rest of the world.

     Just to the right of the castle and a few acres down lay an impressive gray stone house perching neatly atop its chosen hill. It was there that a young noble lady slumbered on the morn of her ascent into womanhood. She was sprawled across her bed, thin cotton sheets long since discarded onto the deerskin rug. She flinched every so often as she descended further into the grips of her nightmare, unaware of the sun's slow trek up the misty morning sky. It was there that Nii, her handmaiden of five years, found her.

"Lady Dealus, you must wake up this very moment! Your lord father expects a meeting with you not a moment after the sun has climbed halfway towards its peak. Today is certainly not the day to be laying about like a common urchin, the moon of your birth will be in the sky tonight!"

     Dealus' eyes shot open the moment Nii's hurried footsteps echoed throughout her chambers, for she had long since trained herself to awaken the moment she heard the slightest noise. Then again, she also thought she'd disciplined herself well enough to rise before the sun began its ascent, yet here she lay, bathed in yellow light. She could scarcely remember a time where she had not woken with the moon as her companion. For some reason it bothered her, to be reminded of her own susceptibility to error.

    Dealus watched through a haze of exhaustion as Nii began her work, bustling around the room, emptying the chamber pot and collecting the sweat-damp sheets for wash. She was a fresh faced girl, for the nineteenth moon of her birth had only passed through the sky last trade season and she possessed the trademark brown hair and tanned skin of the common people. However, her clear blue eyes betrayed the truth of her birth. The iconic cornflower color that was a symbol of prestige within Castille's borders. She was a nobleman's bastard, abandoned and disowned by her true father. She had never known his identity, for her mother refused to tell her before sickness choked her lungs. When Dealus discovered her, she was filthy and isolated, selling her company for a ration of grain. Passerbys spat at her feet as they walked on, able to discern at a single glance the source of her shame. Even now, she still felt her stomach roll as she thought of the cold nights and endless days of  hunger, the only respite from her suffering being foul beasts that visited her in the night smelling of stale ale and horse dung. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt their suffocating heat upon her and heard the telltale jingle of coins in her pocket that whispered to her exactly how much her virtue was worth. The young noble lady saved her from that fate, taking her hands and looking into her blasphemous eyes, unabashed, with an expression that seemed to say I understand your ignominy. From that day forward, she had been Dealus' dutiful handmaiden, grateful to be in her service, but always curious as to why she was saved while so many other young girls still lurked in that same street corner, mewling for even the smallest scraps from the baker. However, she never asked and she had yet to disappoint her young mistress, always a faithful servant and loyal to the house of Narron.

     She dutifully filled Dealus' washbasin and began to scrub the dirt off the girl's porcelain skin. She had gone to sleep with the filth of the day before still clinging to her satin flesh, a rare occurrence, for her ladyship worked diligently to maintain a noble's facade. However, after five years of service, Nii was all too aware of Dealus' wild ways. She smirked, pondering how the stuffy, pretentious noblewomen of Castille would react if they knew half of what she knew about her mistress. Then again, rumors haven't exactly been kind, as of late. 

      When the girl's skin was smoother than the luxurious silk of Necker and her skin smelled sweeter than any lotus blossom in the Greenwoods, she clothed Dealus in a thin cotton dress to match the scorching heat and began to tug at her hair with an ornate brush of whalebone. Her mistress' hair was dark, blacker than a raven's plumage. It ran down her back in a dark, silken waterfall, catching the light as it swayed. Nii would've gladly traded her coarse brown locks for such sleek manageability, however it often vexed her ladyship, because it marked her as an outsider. Her long midnight locks, cocoa eyes, and marble skin greatly contrasted with the Castillian nobility's golden waves, bright blue orbs, and peachy complexion. Although she had lived in Castille for all fifteen, no, now sixteen, moons of her birth, her appearance betrayed her lineage of Gaillic nobility. Nii couldn't help but snicker as she thought of the sight they both made as they walked through the village square, attracting curious looks and sneers from commoners and nobles alike. The abomination and the interloper, what a pair they made. It was a pity too, because she was such a pretty girl, but few nobles would be willing to mar their bloodline with that of the Gaille.

      "Just a braid will suffice, Nii. I'm certain you'll  have to style it again before the ceremony begins. It's an important occasion, after all, and I'm sure you'll have to do something intricate for it, so it wouldn't do if I got my hair all in tangles before I met my guests."

    The handmaiden quickly snapped out of her reverie, realizing that she had long since brushed the tangles out of the girl's hair.

     "Yes my lady." She always used that same response after each and every command her mistress gave, for she was a dutiful servant who hadn't yet failed to carry out a single one of Dealus' orders. Not one. She doubted that any other servant in Castille could claim such a feat. Then again, the extent of her orders were to style hair and hem dresses. It would take a special kind of imbecile to muck those things up.

     At last, the morning preparations were finished, Dealus' hair braided neatly down her back and tucked behind pointed ears. She then turned to face Nii, who stood but a few inches closer to the ground and smiled.

"Thank you for your service to my household, Nii. And if I should not return, know that I hold you in the highest regards, my friend."

    The same ominous, formal farewell that she had uttered every day for the past five years.