In Dreams I Lie

Chapter One: Where Darkness Falls

The people of our kingdom say that there is a rigid line between good and evil, just like there is between light and dark. The Southern Kingdom embodies good, the Northern evil. My family insist that we can choose to be either, good or evil, but not both. They preach that our fate lies in our own hands and only our own. We are the ones who choose our destiny, we are the ones who forge our own paths. There are only ever two types of choices, the right ones and the wrong ones. You fall on one side of the line or the other. For as long as I can remember, I have tried to believe them. But I never seem to be able to. Maybe it is becuase I can feel both magics within me. I have looked for an answer as long as I can remember my mind being able to grasp such a problem, but still, I have not found it. I continue to make blind choices, not knowing their rightenss or their wrongness.

I could have chosen to sleep tonight. I could have done so many things, but instead I chose to curl at the window like a pathetic spring flower. The sun is starting to creep it's fingers over the hill, so morning must be on it's way. I must have been sitting here for hours then, hours that have blurred into each other like the line that does not exist. Hours that I cannot remember. Only the sky still sits in my head, gradually shifting from abyss to tiny robin egg. What was once flecked and peppered with stars is now smooth. The glass of my window distorts the view slightly, bringing cold to my touch as I lay my palm against it. Come to think of it, I am slightly chilly. My room is never the warmest of chambers in the palace. I rarely keep the fireplace running.

People are starting to file out and into the castle grounds. Servants rush, carrying baskets of clothing, food, or flowers on their heads, soldiers begin their training regimens with more haste. Today, they will all be on duty. Even the spies will be returning, or so I hope, to ensure the saftey of my sister and I. Each person looks like a little drop of blood against the uniform green lawns and budding rose gardens. My mother enjoys the strict sameness of their garb, scarlet on brilliant, spotless white. She dresses the same way, even her crown is gold with rubies.

A knock sounds at my door. "Arcadiel, have you risen?"

The voice in question belongs to my nurse and handmaiden, Jerlla. It is rusted and choked with age, but the song in it has not faded throughout the years. She used to sing so beautifully, the melody of a captured songbird forced into a human throat. She would sing as much as she could, while rocking my sister and I, while cleaning, while cooking. I do not know if she will stay after today, or be shifted to another job, one where we will not see each other as often.

I shift from my ball and step from the window seat to the frigid, wooden floor. The hairs on the back of my arms stand, but from the cold of the early spring morning, or the nerves wrecking havoc on my insides I do not know. I pull the sunrise colored tube of my robe closer to me. It drags on the floor, along with the delicately stitched white lace of my dressing gown.

"I have." I pull the door open, letting warm candlelight flood the room. Almost instantaneously, Jerlla pulls me into her bony arms made strong from years of work.

"Oh darling, it looks like you hardly slept! Were you sitting at the window all night?" She frets.

I give her a wry smile despite the wearyness clawing at my eyelids. "Is my face that hideous?"

"You just seem a bit tired is all. Not to mention slightly blue. I don't have the faintest idea why you keep your room below freezing all the time!" She exclaims while sitting me down on the bed and lighting the fire. I examine my hands. They are tinged periwinkle.

"Are you exited? It's not every day you and your sister get to sift through all the eligible men in the kingdom." Jerlla's always warm, and yet somehow, manages to convey just enough sarcasm to allow me to say the truth without guilt rising to my throat.

"No." She knows this.

Jerlla plops herself down next to me and pats my hand. "Your sister told me you'd feel that way."

I let out a harsh laugh, if it can even be called that. "I bet she told you a lot more than that."

Now she's laughing too, but with more cheer than I. "You certainly know her well."

"We are twins," I chime in. "Is she as exited as she was last night?" I know the answer to my own questions. Sometimes it is simply easier to steer the conversation towards Sansori and away from my own misery.

Jerlla nods, still clutching my hands. "She looks on the bright side." She stands and adjust the nonexistent wrinkles in her skirt. "After all it is tradition that a princess chooses a husband before their eighteenth birthday."

I flop back and glare at the ceiling. "No thank you."

She tuts again. "I'll go arrange a bath for you. The whole grand affair starts in an hour and I'm assuming you'd like to eat and possibly see your spy, Koen before it begins."

I begin to protests that Koen is not my anying, but Jerlla just laughs (can she not stop?) and leaves the room. I feel like curling up again and never moving. I need to go find my sister, but for now, all I can do is wait.