Author's Note: Edmund does not yet appear in this chapter. He does not come until the fourth chapter, because I want to create a steady storyline understanding before we jump into the lovey-dovey thing, alright? I wish we could post up banners, because i made such lovely banners for this story, but I guess not. If anyone knows how to, please tell me. I'm new to this site.

A strange, almost timid girl sat on the sad low branches of a Weeping Willow. She was the only one around in the open space of grass and small flowers. She was a thin girl with chestnut ringlets and strange, bright violet eyes. She was not overly beautiful. She had a thin, delicate nose, slight freckles, and carefully arched eyebrows. She wore a dark blue dress, as was a custom to her people to wear darker colors. It had almost no embroidery on it, despite her high role. The only thing that was close to fancy on her was a thin silver necklace. The pendant was that of a nine-petaled flower with beads dangling from it. It was beautiful…the one thing the girl treasured most.

She was right there, just sitting so delicately. She watched the grass grow and felt at ease with the long branches of the Willow flowing around her. They were like a dark green canopy that isolated her in her own world. They separated her from the world of war and political embarrassment that she was so used to. This was her sanctuary.

"Risika?" a voice called quietly. The girl turned to face a boy about three years older than her. He had long dark hair the color of perfectly sweet coffee and his eyes were as black as the night. He had a long face, paired with a fitting nose and mouth. Risika turned back to peering through the canopy, not caring whether the boy stayed to join her or not.

"Risika," the boy said again, still quiet. He was not a loud person. Risika did not turn to him this time. Instead, she simply replied.

"What is it, Caspian?" she said, masking her annoyance perfectly. Her voice rang of a Spanish accent, though she hardly looked the lot. Still, her voice was one that belonged to a fine gentlewoman who knew her manners and her place.

"Your father summons your presence," Caspian answered. Risika sighed. She was in sanctuary, could no one leave her be? It was not as if anyone cared anyway. Miraz was her father, making Caspian her cousin. Of course, she was not Prunaprisma's daughter. No. She looked nothing like Prunaprisma. Prunaprisma was her stepmother; Miraz's second wife. His first wife had been Rachelle, Risika's mother. Risika did not look like a Telmarine. Her hair was not black or dark brown, it was a light chestnut. Her eyes were not dark, but a light violet, like her mother. The only thing she had acquired from her father was his darker skin and his cold glare.

Risika stood and quietly followed her cousin back towards the castle. Miraz paid little attention to his daughter. Risika was no fool. She could sense her father's envy for the throne his brother held. She knew that her father had only kept his mouth shut for the fact that he had no heir. Risika was his daughter, but as a girl, she was unfit to rule the country and had no face in the political areas of the Telmarine government. Risika was not good enough; she had no use, so her father let her be as long as she did nothing to ruin his name. So it was strange if he ever spoke to her at all.

She curtsied to her father as she entered the throne room. Caspian shut the door loudly behind her. Miraz had his back to his fair daughter, only turning to her after the sound of Caspian's footsteps had disappeared down the hall. Even turning to her, he did not meet her purple eyes.

"Father," Risika said softly. "You requested my presence." He nodded in return.

"Yes," he said. He waved her closer. "Come." She did as she was told. She came closer, step by step. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her. Miraz held a hand out to stop her once she was close enough. Then, he spoke again. "As you know, your mother-"

"Stepmother."

Risika didn't mean to be rude and she knew it wasn't her place to interrupt her father, but she couldn't control that part of her. She glanced at her father and saw his brows furrow only slightly.

"Yes, your stepmother, as you know, is pregnant and due any day now. You may be having a younger brother soon," he gave her a knowing smile. It could hardly be considered that. It was like a crocodile grinning at you. Pulling its thick leather lips back and baring its dangerously sharp teeth; its eyes as piercing as death itself.

"What's your point?" Risika said, almost spitting the words into her father's face. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Don't use that tone with me!" he scolded her. Risika snapped. No one dare tell her what to do. Especially not a man who had ignored her existence since her mother died. Especially not a man who couldn't even look at his daughter because her face reminded him of his dead wife.

"I'll use any tone I'd like! What you suggest is treason!" Risika almost screamed, but instead she lowered her voice into a cold murmur between clenched teeth. Miraz turned and glared at his daughter and raised a hand to slap her. Risika glared at her father, daring him to strike her. He didn't. He dropped his hand and turned away from her. She knew why he couldn't do it. Some may have thought it was because she was his daughter, but Risika knew. It was because she looked like her mother.

"Get out," Miraz murmured. "I no longer have any need of you."

"It is not your place to take the throne when it is not rightfully yours," Risika said, taking a step towards her father.

"A young boy of eighteen has no place to rule a country either."

"So what do you plan to do with him?"

"Dispose of him."

Risika narrowed her eyes. Caspian was the only person that was close to a friend to Risika. She may not show it, but she cared about him. She turned to leave the throne room. She would warn him. She would help him escape.

"Risika."

She stopped where she stood as her father called her name. She didn't turn, however. She reached for the door, but did not pull it open.

"If you get involved, know that being my daughter will not spare you."

Risika could not help but shudder at her father's warning. Still, she only scoffed and yanked the door open. She slammed it shut behind her, letting the loud echo roar through the walls of the castle. Damn him.