A Dream of Shadow

1 - The Midnight Meeting

I wake, and it takes a moment to orientate myself. The bright light from the dream has left small fragments of illusionary gold dancing in the air, making it hard to bring myself back to reality.

The night is cold, but then again, the North is always frigid. Trading the thick bedding for a sleek cloak, I leave my chamber - knowing from past experience that the best cure for an overactive imagination is always some decent fresh air.

During the day, the Palace is a glittering, fey structure – but during the night, the marble holds as much light and life as a tombstone. Still, the cold, eerie halls provide the desired reprieve. Shivering slightly, I pull my cloak tighter around me and amble barefoot down one of the many grand staircases. Around me, I can feel the unseen eyes of the detailed paintings of my ancestors, cast invisible by the darkness of the late hour.

I turn a corner, rounding into the most eastern side of the Palace. There's hardly anything down here – save the entrance to the Gaol, and the Warrior quarters – and I'm not expecting to meet anyone; which is why it startles me when I suddenly sense a presence. I don't know who, or what, but something is watching me. Although the darkness hangs between us, I can feel it. Feel them.

"Sala?"

My greeting echoes in the air around us. Through the blackness, I can just barely make out movement, but the figure remains identifiably shadowed. For a second, I wonder if I've stumbled across a Warrior out on patrol. Then the nightwalker reveals himself. Through the dim light, I make out the strong, burly figure of Rolart Calinto – a fellow Royal Council member hailing from the South.

"Rolart. What are you doing here?"

We can't quite see each other, and it's unnerving. "I could say the same to you, young one. What draws you out of bed so late?" His voice is that of an older man, rich with experience, and still retaining some of the accented drawl from his childhood in the South.

"I... couldn't sleep." I don't know why admitting this feels akin to weakness, but it does.

He looks at me, and something about this whole meeting feels off. Is walking at night a habit we share? Does he feel it, too – the weight of bad dreams? Or is there something else going on here, something I shouldn't have discovered? He is wearing formal robes despite the late hour, and gives me a certain untrustworthy appraisal, leading me to think the latter.

"Ah, well. I should tell you to be careful, Princess. Walking around the Palace so late, especially on your own... someone might assume the worst, you know."

The statement is unexpected, and I consider breaking proper etiquette to question him, but the chance never arrives. We are interrupted by a familiar voice from nearby.

"Is everything alright here?"

A Warrior. A new recruit, seeing as I don't recall meeting him before? He appears out of the blackness surrounding us, clad in dark robes that make him almost invisible. Features I can just barely see – a thin nose, gazing eyes – seek us out.

Rolart is the first to speak. "Yes, yes. We just ran into each other here, and were merely exchanging a few words before moving on. You can stand down, Warrior."

Something about the way the nameless figure looks at him now gives me the feeling that he doesn't trust the older Mage, either. For a second, tension hangs between them, thick and heavy. Then it fades, and both start to move away.

"I should find my bed. The same could probably be recommended to you, Princess. A busy Royal Council meeting will soon be upon us."

Recognition flashes across what little I can see of the Warrior's face. Now, he knows who I am. Princess Abria. The King's daughter, and the future Queen. But not only that, a Diviage. All at once, my reputation precedes me, and the same fear that plagues everyone else washes over him. With a deep bow, and a respectful nod, the Warrior withdraws. When he speaks, it is a rich, deep drawl – with a slight lilt that marks it as an Eastern accent.

"Sorry for the disturbance, Your Highness. Would you like me to guide you to your chambers?"

A shake of the head, and the Warrior nods again, disappearing into the maze of dark halls that surround us. As he leaves, it occurs to me that I never even learned his name.

Behind me, the feeling of presence is gone; Rolart has also gone, leaving me alone and conflicted in the darkness.