Bars of Blood

Chapter 3: Gilded Doors

"You look gorgeous."

Those were the first words that I heard when I lurched into the ballroom, struggling to handle the masses of cloth that hung over my hips.

"A little too goth-y though." Cecilia scrunched up her nose - she seemed to like to do that often.

"It's fine!" Ariadne beamed, her beautiful face ever so charming. She wore a lovely yet plain nightdress, which was weird for a ball, but no one complained since she looked stunning anyway. "Come on, you don't want to be late for your own welcoming ceremony!"

"Will there be food?" I asked.

"Duh! Now come on!"

We scurried to the ballroom. That was it. No grand entrance. We simply opened a door and walked in. That's it? I was expecting something-

"The queen has arrived!" an unfamiliar man hollered out. I didn't know anyone BUT my prison-mates and my siblings, so I didn't expect to know anyone, anyway.

"Hello." I lowered my head ever so slightly to show respect.

"Hats, ready?"

What?

My siblings hurried to their seats, sat down, and raised their hats — those who didn't have a hat lifted their arm in the position of holding their hats above their head. "Downwards!"

I gawked at the man who was shouting the orders, pulling his hat back onto his head. I guessed that this was some kind of Eastland tradition.

The chandelier hung high above us as I walked towards where my siblings were sitting before plopping down on a seat next to Ivan, feeling the many eyes that were glancing at me. Everyone probably wanted to get a glimpse at their queen, the girl they hardly knew because they imprisoned me for years, with no press to share my experiences or appearance or personality. Even if they were trying not to look, I knew that they yearned to. I couldn't blame them.

"The highest-ranking person in the room has to eat first. No one can eat before them, and no one can finish their food before they finish. It's only for royals, though. Imagine a life where everyone has to do that!"

I tuned out Fred's reverberating voice, biting into a chunk of warm broccoli. I didn't want to keep them waiting! Broccoli wasn't in my memory, but it was just as I imagined — warm, crunchy, and with a penchant to stick between your teeth.

Immediately, the nobles dug into their meals, proving my suspicions. I shifted my focus on the meal, ignoring everyone's glances and whispers as I dug in dish after dish of delicious food; beef bouillon, roast duck, raw salmon with wasabi (I don't think my stomach liked that sudden change of diet because I had a terrible stomachache afterward), and plenty more delicacies that I couldn't even list. I liked lunch — you didn't need to talk to anybody. Just eat. I dreaded when I finished, where I would have to most likely talk to others. I guess I had some social anxiety.

"Hello, your majesty!"

Ugh.

I spun around. I had just finished my 4-course meal and was ready to sprint out of the room, hopefully avoiding all conversation, when a dark-skinned boy around my age approached me.

Oh well.

"Hello, sir. What should I call you?" I chose my words carefully in case he was recording me.

"Prince Matthew of Northland, your majesty. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Why did royals have to talk in that formal, monotone voice? "Okay! Um... I'm not sure how to start a conversation..."