Letters To The Heart

Entry 3: Rosetta Silvare

Dear Stranger,

I must begin by expressing how little I care for royal balls. And no, I do not refer to the kind that come hurtling toward you on a field, only to be struck with a bat—though that would likely be more entertaining. I am talking about the grand, overly formal affairs where one must be dressed to perfection, standing amidst dukes, duchesses, nobles, and other members of high society. They come to mingle, speak of wealth, and perhaps, if fortune smiles upon them, secure a match for their sons.

Once, I found these events enchanting, but after Mama passed... I confess, I now feel a sense of guilt in enjoying them. The only thing that brings any measure of excitement this year is the chance to see Christian. He has long been one of my dearest friends, the prince of the Rosetta bloodline, and heir to the nation of Tresleet Silvare.

Let me tell you how it all began...

In honor of the New Year, my father hosted one of the grandest balls Cair Paravel had ever seen. It was an evening full of splendor, from the glittering chandeliers to the sound of orchestral music that floated through the grand hall.

It all sounds magical, doesn't it? Yet the moment the guests arrived, it became dreadfully dull. Countless dukes and duchesses seemed determined to push their sons in my direction, as if I was to choose my future husband that very night. I understood well enough that, as a princess, one day I would marry to secure alliances and strengthen the crown. But I was seven! It felt as though the entire court was conspiring to trap me in the most boring of fates.

After my fifth introduction to a particularly slobbering boy who had no concept of personal space, I excused myself under the pretense of needing the restroom. In truth, I did need to go, but afterward, I saw a window of opportunity—quite literally. Growing up in this palace, one learns a thing or two about sneaking out, especially in ball gowns. Climbing down the vines outside a bathroom window in the middle of a royal event? Child's play.

Once I reached the ground, I darted into the bushes near the palace walls. Of course, Father had posted guards everywhere; it seemed there were always those who sought to sneak into such grand events. Yet, for all their diligence, they did not expect the princess to be sneaking out.

Just as I was catching my breath, I felt someone's eyes on me. Before I could react, a hand clamped over my mouth, silencing me. Instinctively, I kicked and struggled against my captor, to no avail.

"Would you stop moving, you fool? You're going to alert the guards!" a young voice hissed.

I spun around to find myself face-to-face with a boy about my age, with messy blond hair and striking sapphire eyes.

"How dare you touch the princess!" I spat, trying to summon all the authority my seven-year-old self could muster. "I will have you arrested for treason!"

The boy arched a brow, completely unimpressed.

"Well, how dare you kick the prince. And I hate to disappoint you, but you can't arrest me for treason just because I told you to stop acting like a wildcat."

"Excuse me?" I snapped. "And exactly what prince might you be?"

"If you must know," he replied coolly, "I am Prince Christian, heir to the throne of Tresleet Silvare."

I crossed my arms, refusing to let him get the better of me. "And what, pray tell, are you doing out here? The ball is inside, if you hadn't noticed."

We stared at each other, locked in a battle of stubborn wills. Looking back, I admit it was rather amusing—two royal children hiding in the palace shrubs, both too proud to admit we had no interest in the festivities.

"Pssh," he scoffed, "you're the last person who should be asking me that. If I cared about these ridiculous affairs, do you think I'd be hiding out here with you?"

"Well, aren't we clever?" I said, suppressing a smile. To my surprise, a small grin began to form on his lips as well.

And that, dear Stranger, is how Prince Christian West-Lee Fournier Rosetta of Tresleet Silvare and I, Princess Elise Ever-Loreigh-Baya Forjayn of Cair Paravel, became friends. Who would have thought?

Ah, but I must end this entry here. The maids are here to prepare me for tonight's ball. Wish me luck—I'll need it.

*~ Princess Elise*

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