I was shorter and curvier than most aristocratic women, but I didn’t spend much time fixating on appearances. I wasn’t above it, I just found looks to be the least interesting thing about a person. Maybe I’d change my tune when I went downstairs and was swept off my feet by a line of eligible bachelors. Maybe they’d all be so charming, their looks would be the only thing to distinguish them by. I laughed out loud to keep from crying, earning a worried look from Thea.
Having observed these events for years, I knew better. Everyone at court seemed to have the same interests. Men partook in hunting, drinking and fighting, while most women gravitated towards gossip and shopping for next season’s gowns. I’d tried to fit in for a while, but had finally accepted that I was simplydifferent.
I yearned for novelty, for adventure. I spent most of my spare time escaping into novels that took me to faraway lands filled with pirates and dragons. If I wasn’t reading, I was riding my horse, Najma. She made better company than most humans and riding was one of the few activities I was allowed to participate in.
When galloping through open fields, wind whipping my hair into knots, I could outrun the feelings that bit at my heels. I woke up most mornings with the weight of responsibility heavy on my chest. I spent most of my time learning how to fit into a role that I hadn’t been born for. No amount of etiquette lessons could tame my wild spirit.
I floated through most days feeling comfortably numb, tucked away from anything considered dangerous or too exciting for a lady’s delicate constitution. I could count on one hand the amount of people I cared for and who cared for me. Each gathering at the castle reminded me that sometimes the loneliest place to be was in a crowded room.
But then, I’d met Deric. It had been a slow burn of glances and accidental hand brushes until one day, as he was saddling up Najma, I'd kissed him in a moment of bravery.
I grimaced as I recalled how I'd recklessly thrown myself at him, only to break things off a short while later. It had been selfish…impulsive. I'd risked his job and my reputation.It was over, I reminded myself. We hadn’t been caught. Now it was time for me to grow up and accept my fate.
We all had to play the cards we were dealt. I knew my hand could’ve been much worse. Some people fantasized about living in a castle and playing dress up. They wouldn’t mind the mindless banter—the rules and restraints that came with being niece to the Queen. Unfortunately, I had an aversion to small talk, loathed stuffy traditions, andhatedparties. I was indisputably ill-suited to be the successor to the throne.
I descended the stairs to the formal ballroom, searching for any familiar faces in the steadily growing crowd below. The room was ornately decorated with tapestries of cerulean blue and silver—the royal colors. Centuries worth of ancient art hung from the walls, while handwoven rugsbrought warmth to the stone floors. It was always a beautiful space, but today it was breathtaking. Fresh flowers covered every surface. The smell of lilac and gardenia lingered, filling my nose with their sticky, sweet scent. The heat of the room hit me next. There were too many bodies cloistered together. I already needed fresh air.
Royal families hovered around each other like hummingbirds searching for nectar. I had no interest in pollinating, so I avoided eye contact and stuck to the shadows. I needed to find Cara. She’d act as a shield until my debut.
I made my way to the refreshments table in hopes of finding something stronger than lemonade. I was old enough to drink, but the chaperones buzzed around unmarried women like vultures scavenging for the latest scandal. Most people born into nobility considered any form of work below them; instead, they filled their time with gossip and superfluous societal rules. Ladies were allotted one glass of watered down wine at social gatherings. Men could drink as much as they wanted and be as vulgar and loud as they pleased.
Before I had the chance to find my friend, one of Queen Ophelia’s personal guards appeared at my side, wearing a crisp blue uniform. “Lady Ellesmere, Queen Ophelia has requested your presence.”
two
Istrode into the opulent throne room, trying my best to look like I belonged. Portraits of long dead Kings and Queens stared lifelessly down at me. It felt as if they were judging me, hissing, “imposter,” as I slinked by. And they were right, I didn’t belong here. I hadn’t been born in the castle, but instead had been abandoned here. My father had left the night of Mama’s death, never to return.
My throat tightened when I thought of him. I didn’t know if he’d ever remarried, if he had other children. If he thought of me, he’d never bothered to let me know.
Ophelia had always treated me like a daughter. The only thing that came before me was her Kingdom. She’d taken the throne when King Hadrian died of a heart attack, years before I’d been born. While the council had strongly encouraged her to remarry and take a consort, she never had.
She might’ve been the only woman in Aurelius with any real power, and yet she was still bound to the rules of society. Like a hobbled horse, her freedom was an illusion. She believed that all people were born equal under the gods, but the mostly male council disagreed. They believed that certain people were inherently better than others—that greatness was passed down through blood. And I believedthat they’d say and do anything to justify their greed.
I glanced around the room, noting the golden bronze statues of mythical creatures that lined the walls. They always caught my eye. As a child I would hide in here, staring at them for hours, pretending I was one of them.
A Sphinx, Unicorn, Dragon, Pooka, Phoenix, and Hydra all stood frozen in place, ferocious expressions on their face, as they protected the Queen. The stewards of the gods—the Chosen Six. They kept harmony between all beings. People occasionally prayed to them, but they were mostly just legend now, much like the gods. I bowed to the statue closest to Ophelia—a Sphinx, known for its wisdom—then towards her. I’d been performing this ritual for as long as I could remember.
“You lookangelic, Marigold. Although, I must say, seeing you in white gives me heart palpitations after years of watching you muddy your dresses.” She smiled with a twinkle in her eye.
“I haven’t done that in years!” I laughed. “But you’re right. White is a bold choice where I’m concerned.”
“And how the years have flown by. It has been my greatest joy, watching you bloom. I’ll get emotional if I think on it for too long.” She, indeed, looked close to tears—an incredibly rare event. She made a point of never looking weak. I was tempted to remind her that I was the one who should be crying—that I had to go mingle with tedious twits for the rest of the evening. But I bit my tongue, because I knew she was missing my mother… as was I.
Mama had died on my tenth birthday; today was the anniversary of her death. Whenever I turned a year older, I was reminded how many years it had been since I became motherless.Eleven.
“I wanted to wish you a happy birthday before the festivities begin and obligation sweeps me away. I know this day, in particular, is hard for you." My aunt stepped off her throne and approached me, her cobalt velvet gown trailing behind her like a snaking river. Salt and pepper hair blended with the silver of her crown, making the sapphire gems embedded in the head-piece glow like a halo.
Rays of sunshine spilled in from large windows, highlighting her olive skin. She looked so much like Mama in this light. The same slanted brown eyes, wide smile, and oval face. She brought me in for a deep hug and whispered, “I’m so proud of you for facing your fears today.”
I leaned into the embrace, soaking it in. Ophelia loved me; she’d shown it in a million tiny ways—providing for me, giving me the best education, spending quality time with me, even when she was busy. But this form of affection—hugging—I could count on one hand how many times this had happened. She was cerebral, often stuck in her own head.It had been an adjustment at first, compared to my overly-affectionate, excitable mother.
Gods, I missed her warmth. Her hugs.Her passion.
Ophelia pulled back and took a small trinket from her pocket. “A birthday gift. This was your mother’s. It’s an important piece of jewelry. I’ve been keeping it safe until you came of age.” She held up a thin gold chain. There was a single square charm that hung from it, displaying the sigil of the gods, a six-pointed star.
Six was sacred to all: we had six royal advisors, six continents, six kingdoms, and six gods. The number was believed to be lucky—blessed by the once mighty gods. Despite the crumbling temples that sat abandoned across Erador—decaying proof of dwindling faith—some customs remained.
Like most people, I rarely turned to the gods in times of need. In fact, I had a bad habit of using their names in vain. According to Thea, I’d onlyhave myself to blame, when I was inevitably struck by lightning. Ophelia and her most faithful followers still honored them as if they were real; therefore, I could recite their names in my sleep: Sivo, God of Water. Aku, God of Shadow. Cyro, God of Fire. Beira, Goddess of Ice. Terra, Goddess of Earth. Alya, Goddess of Wind. Together, the gods ruled and protected Erador.
