“I wouldn't know. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting him yet.”
“Hmm.” Cynthia hummed thoughtfully. “I know Vincent isn’t happy about being replaced, especially by someone so young.” She snorted. “I hear he is our age.”
My brows furrowed at that. Why would my father replace Vincent with someone so inexperienced? “And what about you?” I countered, raising my eyebrows back at her. “Do you have a date for the ball?”
She gave me a sidelong glance, her expression deadpan. “What do you think?” she quipped.
We paused outside the kitchen doors, unlinking our arms and turning to each other with smiles. Cynthia had been my best friend since childhood. Though it was frowned upon at first, I was relentless in my efforts to be with her. My persistent attempts and the trouble I caused by sneaking around eventually led my parents to relent and accept our friendship. Cynthia, however, was the only exception. My mother had made that clear.
“Will I see you at dinner tonight?” I inquired hopefully, and Cynthia let out a sarcastic laugh.
“Have you met my father?” She snorted. “I probably won't have a normal schedule until well after this ball, but I'll be there tomorrow for this elusive surprise.” She grinned at me again but winced as a crash echoed in the kitchens and Bubba’s angry voice boomed through the door.
“I better get back in there before he kills someone.” She laughed, hugging me once more before disappearing into the kitchen.
I set off toward the grounds, unwilling to return to my room just yet. My feet moved on their own, each step carrying meforward as my mind replayed the events of last night over and over. With a frustrated sigh, I ran a hand over my face, turning onto the familiar path that would lead me back toward the gardens. The cool spring breeze tousled my hair, but it did little to calm the storm inside my head.
That camp. The swirling, unnatural darkness.
The red clay staining my carpet was the only thing that prevented me from dismissing it as just another dream, like so many others. I’d managed to clean most of it last night, but a stubborn spot remained.
To avoid the maids finding it, I had discreetly hidden my nightgown in the kitchen trash before my tea with my mother.
Last night had been the first time I had been fully awake through the entire ordeal, and it had shaken me to my core. It made me question everything. My dreams—had they all been real?
The week before, I had dreamt—or thought I had—of standing on a riverbank. Laughter and conversation echoed in the distance, yet I saw no one. The darkness had been thick, the only light coming from the dim reflection of the water. When I woke, I was covered in dried grass. I had chalked it up to my mind playing tricks on me, but now… now I wasn’t so sure.
There had been another time. I had found myself in a lush green forest, standing along a dirt road. I saw men on horseback in the distance, riding off down the road in front of me, and I ducked behind a fallen tree to avoid being seen. One of the riders had turned, and for a moment, I was certain he looked right at the spot I had appeared, as though he knew. I had closed my eyes, and waited, but when I finally opened them again, I was back in my bed.
A choked laugh escaped me as I sifted through my memories, struggling to piece together the fragments. After last night, Iwasn’t sure what to believe anymore. But one thing was certain: these weren’t just dreams.
Chapter 2
Zara
“Rise!” The guard at the dining hall door bellowed as the heavy walnut doors creaked open, revealing the King of Velra, Helion Davinshire. Though of average height, his presence dominated the room. Hard, weathered lines carved his face, a perpetual scowl settling into his expression. His close-shaven raven hair barely hid the jagged pink scar, running from the center of his scalp down to his neck. Tanned skin stood out starkly against the crisp white of his regal uniform, the fabric adorned with gleaming war medals that clinked softly with his every step, catching the warm flicker of candlelight.
He strode toward the long table where his inner court gathered, taking his seat at the head. I sat to his left, with Winnie positioned on his right. With a playful wink in my direction, he gestured for everyone to be seated.
The moment everyone sat down, the room erupted into conversation.
There was no real order to the table seating—my father didn’t care. It was generally whoever showed up first, with the spots at the head of the table reserved for the royal family.
Unfortunately for me, the seat beside mine had been claimed by none other than Patricia, Duke Wellington’s wife. She always reeked of lavender and mothballs, a scent as overpowering as the outrageously puffy-shouldered dresses she favored. Tonight’s dress was no exception: ruffled, blindingly pink, and so voluminous that her puffed shoulders nearly brushed my chair.
I briefly considered having her moved, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Not yet, anyway.
On her other side sat her husband, Duke Wellington. His wiry mustache was the only feature I could make out through the curtain of Patricia’s absurd sleeves. Together, they oversaw the castle village, which also gave them the honor of living at the castle full time.
The other dukes and duchesses occupied the rest of the table from neighboring villages: Duke Thadeous and his wife Theresa, Duchess Katerina and her husband Bernard, Duchess Evangeline, and Duke Atticus.
They each managed their respective villages throughout the kingdom and had traveled here for the upcoming ball. They’d stay at the castle until the ball, now less than two weeks away, and leave once the festivities were over.
A flash of blonde at the far end of the table caught my eye. That must be the new captain of the royal guard. The one my father, for some unknown reason, replaced Vincent with.
I leaned forward, trying to get a better look, but Patricia’s ridiculous sleeves made it impossible. With a sigh of defeat, I gave up and turned my attention back to my father.
Leaning over, my father placed a light kiss on Winnie’s cheek, causing her to blush. Her full, rosy lips parted slightly as she gazed at him. Elegant swirls of her long, blonde hair, pinned atop her head, highlighted the graceful curve of her slender face. She wore a corseted dress the color of molten gold, perfectly complementing her striking yellow eyes. My dress mirrored hersin style, though its deep, rich blue was chosen to match the hue of my own eyes.
