Of Spinning Gold and Song

| Nineteen | The Prince

I gave a small start upon seeing him; then, remembering the queen's malicious actions when I failed to show the utmost level of respect, I sank into a deep, deep curtsey. My cheek was still throbbing from earlier, a constant, pulsating reminder, motivating me to not rise up, or even look up, or even raise my gaze.

Instead I started at the intricate pattern adorning the woven rug I stood on. It was rich in colors, with golds and blues being a recurrent theme, just like in the capital city itself. Golden thread danced around, twinking in the pale light, reminding me just how much was at stake with my forced lies.

"You may rise," said the prince, sounding slightly amused. Shaking, I followed his directions and stared at another replica of my sister and myself.

It wasn't like he was a replica, per say, in a familial way. The differences were there, accented by his slightly deeper set eyes, slightly sharper nose, and slightly higher cheekbones. It was the overall picture that was so similar.

After all, he was the only other half-Ayraliean, half-Lyvensian child besides Rosie and myself whom I had ever seen. Who perhaps even existed in the entire world.

Perhaps.

I recalled that he was nineteen years of age; he was one year older than I was, just like Bradyn. I thought he looked older, probably even older than Augustin, who was one and twenty. Being prince, being the son of someone as cruel and harsh as the queen, couldn't be easy. It was sure to age you.

Then again, I reminded myself, I didn't know this man. He could be just as cruel as his mam, or even worse.

He had auburn hair, like Rosie and everyone else in Lyvens, instead of my platinum blonde locks. But his pale complexion and startlingly gray eyes, eyes that felt as though they were piercing right through me—not in a good way—were unmistakably those of the queen. Of Ayraliea.

And one last thing: he was short.

He was not quite so short as I was. Nobody was as short as I, save for the queen and, of course, Rosie, who was also six years younger than I. But he was certainly shorter than everyone else I knew, everyone from Lyvens. Standing only a couple of inches taller than I, I figured his whole life he must have been the short one of any bunch like myself.

That couldn't be easy for a heir apparent.

"You must be Miss Sparrow," he said in a rich voice, hearty and full of life and the way I had always imagined any prince or king must sound. It was completely unlike the harsh cry of his mam.

"Um, yes. Your Highness," I stammered. I was even more shocked when he opened the door wider and motioned for me to enter.

I was relieved to see it was just a sitting room. One of the many parlours they had, I supposed. Exhausted from my stressful night and little sleep, I sank down on the armchair nearest me, relishing the pillowy fabric that came up to engulf my petite figure. I wasn't sure I would have been able to handle a sterile throne room like that which the queen had greeted me in yesterday.

"My mam told me to expect you," he said, his voice courteous and polite as he took the seat opposite me. "I hear you can turn straw into gold."

"Yeah," I said, exhausted. There was really nothing to lose from one more lie at this point. "Highness." I tacked the last part on, remembering Queen Isolde's violent reaction. He was far from me, but I didn't want to press my luck lest he run over here to put me in my place. Time had passed but my check was still complaining.

He nodded seriously. "It's interesting. I've never met another outside of my family that has powers."

"Well, I guess I'm not supposed to," I said bitterly, forgetting myself for a moment. "I just figured out a few days ago and I am completely terrified. I suppose that means I came from some affair or something. I don't know." Even though I couldn't actually spin straw into gold, I did still have powers and the words I spoke rang true. They were the words that had been plaguing me since that first flight on the wind, and it was a relief to get them out, even if it wasn't to anyone I should be confiding in.