My eyes could faintly discern the delicate lines of a chandelier hanging over my head through the glimpses of light piercing through the curtains. Without second thought, the eiderdown flees against the headboard and my feet shift from the feathered mattress into the slippers resting on the side. My fingers trace the velvet cloth shielding the chamber from the light before sweeping the floor with them and take in the sight unveiled.
From a steep hill, water streamed East of the palace like a remorseless river. The pallid rays warm each drop from the sky as they fall into a linn. Bellow the window, sparrow chanting echoed through the quietness of the grounds from where nothing but a squirrel, leaping to a nearby tree, breathed. It seemed too early even for the early risers of the Aurelian Palace. Even so, I could not bring myself to keep my eyes closed for a moment more. Perhaps the anticipation for what was yet to come, or perhaps the desire for the week to pass faster and my life to return to the usual routine. At least I tried to convince myself, even knowing it would be anything but the same. Somewhere within these walls slept the future King of Aurelia and somewhere within these walls laid the most haughty people from all the nine corners of the world.
A sharp clash of steel severs my thoughts in half. Swiftly descending toward the sound, my eyes descry two figures shrouded by leaden cloaks. One was almost as massive as the trees circling them, his chest was broad, his arms strong, the whole man appeared to be forged of iron. The other leveled his chin, yet his posture was regal, trusting, and if he feared the slash of his opponent's sword toward him, he showed no sign.
At first, I thought it to be Lawrence but while the mighty Captain of the Guard placidly awaited for the attacks, parrying them with precision as if his enemy's blade was nothing but a bug, the fighter before me was ever the first to strike the sword, yet it glided with such grace that even against a mountain the battle barely seemed fair.
The blaring chimes of the bell travel through the skies of Aurelia and, as if on tune, the monstrous man falls disarmed on his knee with a blade fighting against the bare skin of his throat, so close that my heart tightened on my chest, unsure of what was to follow.
At the seventh and last chime, the click of a knob sounds behind my back. I fling my eyes over my shoulder as the door is drawn open to reveal a cherish Claire.
"Good- Oh!"
My head flips toward the window to find the grass as green as it ever was, no crimson stains or corpses, either dead or alive, which proved itself to be quite the relief.
"Aurelian punctuality." My attention returns to the girl that stands glaring at my ivory sleepwear.
"For the grace of Gods, what came into you this morning?" She sounds amazed.
"What do you mean?" I question genuinely clueless.
"Do you remember the last time you were out of bed before the waking call?"
"Well... I can't say I do."
"Precisely."
My fingers slide down along the shining bannister of the Great Staircase while meeting both familiar and unfamiliar faces sauntering up and down the crimson carpeting the steps. As the first official convene of the week, a horse ride would take place up the Aurelian Hills still in the rise of the day.
I glare at the stirring cloak entering through the front doors from the shoulders of the Obsidian Prince himself.
"Princess." He nods.
I return the solemnity with a bow, taking the time to inspect the spotless clothes he wore, as if he had just walked out of a bath instead of a sword fight on the grounds. My eyes come to a halt at the sight of the obsidian hilt of a sword resting at the top of an ornate scabbard.
"Will you ever be detached from that blade of yours?" I could not cease to be amazed.
"I find its company quite invigorating."
I lift my eyes to meet his. The cognizance that the Prince was not, by all means, a short man, left my thoughts to wander how tall must his opponent be.
"A fair fight," I recall. His head is tilted to the side, his eyes felt like the fire of Dragons on mine. "Shall I be concerned that I am being spied on?"
"Oh-" I could not tell if it was his look or his words that made my cheeks flush in red. "I- I did not mean, by any means-" The words stumble through my lips. "What occurs is that I happen to have quite a glorious view from my window." I fixed him in absolute terror before saying in quick pace, "For the falls! I was admiring its beauty," I attempt to escape from his engaging stare, "of the falls."
The willing of becoming an ostrich and bury my head on the dirt grew stronger to the glimpse of a conceited smile on his lips when he nods befittingly and carries on his way up the stairs.
Once my heart finds itself beating back against my chest, I move my previous petrified body toward the breakfast room, sensing it would be quite a long day.
Later that morning, I observed from the patio the horses that were led away from the stables as our guests settled on top of their companions. Some mounted with ease, others with the help of servants, but it was clear that not all had been fitted in the saddle of a horse before.
From amidst them, a light-colored mare was pulled by the reins. Her trot was graceful through the crowd, and her eyes, as big as the depths of the ocean, looked over the woman that led her to me. Her hair strands were of a dark cast of ginger, tangled in a braid that fell over her shoulder. Her brows, two straight lines above fearless auburn eyes, and the delicate features of what was still a youthful woman were covered in specks of dust. As she strode closer, the sprout on her belly became evident beneath tweedy tailored pants.
"Here she is." The woman pats the loin of the mare before I could protest.
"Mrs. Reidford, it is absolutely unacceptable that you are working in the stables today! If your husband gets a glimpse of you outside of bed, or even my parents, you oath to be in deep trouble."
"And for what would I prove to be of good use lying all day in a bed while the animals need me here? No, it is not for me." She shakes her head in denial. "Not until the day my legs brake, at least."
In the meantime, Lianne's muzzle finds its way up and down my hand, vibrating with a loud purr.
"I am well aware, Mrs. Reidford." I offer her an affectionate smile. "But it is of no excuse to take on arduous labour." From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of a knowing smile treading nearer. "As Claire will ensure of it."
"Come along, Mrs. Reidford." The girl entangles her her arm on the strong one of Mrs. Reidford. "I will make you some tea in the Kitchens."
The woman heaves a defeated sigh. "You all treat me as if I have some illness. I am perfectly able to stand on my feet!" She tries to objects as she's pulled toward the house.
"Hop on the horse."
My eyes immediately leave them toward a regal figure mounted on a horse. Not a horse - a black destrier - held firmly by a gloved hand on its reins.
Torment, was the name of the one who carried the Captain of the Guard himself, easily distinguished by the Aurelian crest proudly stamped on both edges of the gilded band that crossed the forehead. Its head held high in superiority, as if mirroring its rider's.
I nod my head and set my foot on the stirrup. The leathered boot hardly fitted the delicate pearl color of the top, or the deep ocean blue of the skirts, but I have heard all my life that what can not be seen, can not hurt. Therefore, I swing my right leg over Lianne's rump and give the mare a gentle squeeze to follow after Torment.
My parents watched the last of the nobles settling on their horses from their own. As this being one of my Father's favorite traditions, I knew he could not spare a second more on a still horse.
"You look lovely today, my dear," The King compliments as I turn to the crowd by his side and nod in appreciation.
"You look youthful today," I return. "Wander why that might be." We share a smile.
There is one day of the year, and one day only, in which The King settles the Crown's businesses aside and disappears from the palace before the sun rises. No one finds any sign of him until the next morning when he descends the stairs for breakfast as if nothing had happened. I assumed, of course, that he had simply gone into a magical dimension through a mirror or some other artifact of sorcery. It was until the age of five, when I rubbed my sleepy eyes to the sight of his handsome face over my bed still under the moonlight.
"How would you like to fly, little bird?" He smiled at me.
As soon as I can remember, my hands were on the reins of the fastest horse of the kingdom that took us fearlessly against the wind. My Father's hands over mine sent a comforting warmth against the quick beating of my heart for the strange sensation that ran in my veins for the first time.
The horse slowed down the pace after what seemed to me about four miles from the palace. I looked up, and then down. In the level of our eyes there was nothing but casts of orange and pink from the sky piercing through the dissipating clouds. But below, way down below our feet, settled the rest of the world.
I hold onto the horse's crest to help me stand up. The waves of the sea embraced the sand on its midst, swaying the couple of boats on the coast as if they danced to the blithe song of the valorous sailors while the village began to bustle with people that, from here, merely resembled a colony of ants treading through the streets. West from the Hills, the woods deepen through miles of land to the borders of Garte and I realized then, that the palace that has always looked so mighty through my eyes, seemed like a rabbit hole compared to the immensity of the world outside.
I raise my arms, I felt as if I could touch the sky. "I'm flying!" The King's laughter echoed down the Hills in a delighted tune as the solace to all my fears.
He holds his right hand in the air before the people. Conversations cease mid-sentence and a longing silence prevails when, one by one, their eyes follow The King's words.
"For many years, we welcome you in our home, some for the first time, others for so many other times that they might be considered part of our house." He stares directly at them, valiantly and collected. All I could imagine was how I would not be any of these things if I was ever to give a speech. "Today, we honor the tradition by, once more, guiding you through the wonders of the Aurelian Hills." They respond with nods of satisfaction and wide grins on their faces. "Although I must advise you before we take leave, that you might encounter an eagle or two. Majestic creatures they are, but I envision that Lord Bamford might have a different opinion on the subject."
Laughter echoes through the crowd as all eyes fall on a noble man mounting a grey horse in the centre, receiving pats on the back from his companions. Everyone remembered how, twenty years ago, an eagle saw good fit to settle on his bald head, and whoever was not born yet at the time, such as myself, was sentenced to hear the narrative of the episode over and over again as it became legendary among the Aurelian tales. Fortunately, I don't think anyone could ever grow weary of that story.
His face expresses annoyance but his laugh says otherwise. "Alright, alright..." His hands raise in defeat.
"Now that everyone is warned about the terrible dangers of the Hills, I pronounce the beginning of the season."
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