Evanescent

Prologue

There was an earsplitting crash.

The skies were heavy and sad; the billows of each gray cloud reached down toward the grass as if they might stroke the blades. There was a damp chill to the night air that ruffled the red curtains of the princess's bedroom. A faint sharp flash of lightning bathed the cream walls in a harsh yellow and illuminated the curious face of the teenager as she leaned further out her window. The princess had heard the stories of how the Spiral came into existence through the clash of the titans. She'd heard the story from Bartleby himself, yet it only seemed to be fascinating and truly great when she compared it to the sound of a storm.

She loved the wind, the thunder, the electricity of a bolt of lightning. There was nothing about it that scared her. The clouds knew no territory borders; they knew no kingdoms, no monarchs, no rules. They only knew to float where the wind took them and asked no questions. The princess envied the freedom that the storms had.

The princess didn't just stay up to watch the storms, though. No, she stayed up to watch the hunters come crawling out, and to see the assassins step out of the shadows and bathe in the flashes of light. She leaned against her elbows as the wind gusted up once more, throwing both the tapestries and her hair back. She could see the nightly assassin—she didn't know his name, but he probably knew her's—just at the bottom of the hill that their castle set upon. A frown tugged at the corners of her lips. There would never come a day where she would be free to roam the lands as she pleased; she would never have the freedom of a regular person.

The hunter at the edge of the castle wall kicked his horse in the ribs as he speed towards the assassin. The princess watched this fight almost once a week. The hunters searched for assassins, assassins killed whoever they were paid to off, and the world went round like it always did. The princess often wondered how she would meet her death, but even that much wasn't left up to her. She could not ascend the throne for that was a prince and his wife's job. She had no right to leave the castle unless supervised by her father or her brothers. All she could hope for in life was to bear a son, since failure to do so was imminent death.

So, if life was so drab, why didn't she run away?

That was a question she pondered often. Her death was certain; the only uncertainty lied in when. But, running away would not only shame her, it would bring shame to her family and possibly have their bloodline excused from the monarchy. The princess refused to be the blame for that.

"You're up late, Alexandria." The voice might have startled her, but she made no sudden movements to show it. Instead, she simply glanced sideways at the man standing in her doorway and smiled.

"Sleep eludes me tonight." Alexandria turned back to the scene outside her window, frowning as she realized the men in the valley had now disappeared. Her brother, Jonas, pulled the fingers of his gloves off slowly before completely removing them. He'd always found gloves to be annoying and useless, but he wasn't normally given much choice in the matter.

"What's on your mind?" Jonas questioned with a smile. He was normally the more protective of her two brothers, and naturally more inquisitive than Lucan, the eldest of them. There were small wrinkles at the edge of his eyes from the amount of smiling he always seemed to do. It made him look older, Alexandria realized with a pang of sympathy. He was only twenty-one, old enough to lead an army across a desert of their enemies but too young to sit down with the diplomats of their kingdom. Only Lucan had been invited to those meetings, so far, and he was too reserved to speak of them with the two.

Alexandria rubbed her hand against her cheek in thought. "Father's leading the battle tomorrow," she whispered, shaking her head slightly. Jonas glanced at the ground as she spoke, chewing on his lip as he stuffed his gloves into his pocket and pondered what to say. It was considered bad luck to speak negatively of someone's department. Wishing bad luck on the king never ended very well.

Finally, Jonas collected his thoughts enough to speak. "It'll be fine. He's been through more wars than we've lived to see."

"I just… It makes me sick to think—"

"I know," Jonas nodded slowly. In Aerilon, death in battle was considered the most honorable of all deaths. The first and last battle of the season was always lead by the king. Jonas shuddered to think that his brother would have to lead the next battle if their father fell in the upcoming one.

Alexandria squared her shoulders back in an attempt to cast her emotions aside and turned around to look at her brother. "How did your training go?" She didn't need to wait for his reply as the dejectedness was already written boldly across his face. Lucan was considered a natural-born warrior; his magic had manifested itself when he was only five just as most of the Stonerose males did. The Stoneroses were considered the most elite fighters of all the eligible royalty in Aerilon.

Jonas, on the other hand, hadn't been so lucky. At his age, he hadn't managed to produce a single flicker of magic. The best apothecaries and theurgists in the kingdom had been called out to check the man, yet none had been able to provide the family with a single answer. He had excelled in his combat training but that still didn't earn him the right to ascend the throne or, more importantly, the approval of their father. "I don't understand why I can't make it work. I know it's there!"

The black-haired man leaned against the footboard of the bed, shaking his head slightly in annoyance. He fumed about the problem often; in fact, pretty much everyone knew about it. Still the matter seemed irrelevant to Alexandria, who was tapping her foot against the wooden floor in agitation. "I don't understand why you need magic to be king. That's absurd; it has nothing to do with ruling a kingdom," she muttered, crossing her arms across her nightgown.

"You have to be able to rule over all with authority. You can't have authority over the wizards if you're not one." He ran a hand through his hair, frowning in thought. "I forget that you didn't have to study all that. Lucky you."

"I would have taken the most boring class about politics and ascension laws any day over all of the cleaning and sewing I had to learn." Alexandria faked a little shudder at the mention of sewing. Her fingertips were still dotted with marks from the needle she used weeks ago. That was a princess's job, though, and she was expected to take it seriously and pride herself on being a good wife. She was nothing more than a bargaining tool to sold off when the time was right and she was supposed to accept that fact with honor and grace.

Alexandria refused to take her life so lightly.

"You are going to be the worst wife," Jonas teased with a grin, and continued with a higher pitched, mocking voice: "Go sew up your own trousers; I hate sewing. Cook for you? You mean you need to eat? I'm sure you can figure out something."

The red-head scowled and pushed his shoulder lightly. "I don't talk like that."

"Yes, you do." The man laughed slightly, shaking his head as he did so often. "You're like a smart-ass version of Evangelina." Alexandria broke out into a muffled fit of laughter at his comparison to her friend. Evangelina was probably the kindest servant in the entire castle, yet she was also horrible at doing any of her duties. Alexandria had heard her father say once that he'd thought about firing her, but she was such a happy soul that he couldn't bear the thought of it.

As Alexandria's laughter died down, Jonas's expression turned gravely serious. "Father mentioned something about your wedding recently."

The princess's eyes lit ablaze in an instance, fingers tightening on the windowpane until her knuckles turned white. She was to be married off to one of the three princes of the other kingdoms, yet the arrangements were not solidified enough for any announcements to be made. "Who is it?"

"Either Dragonsword or Windstrider. Dragonsword offered a better deal but Windstrider could be a more valuable ally."

"Marriage doesn't guarantee they'll become our allies."

"It's a written agreement." Jonas shrugged. "Breaking it would just end in another battle."

"What's one more?" Red hair swished sideways as she shook her head. "I do not wish to marry either of them."

"Wishing is for children, Xan, you know that." Jonas gave her sympathetic look, but she disregarded it. It didn't matter to her if he felt bad; the only thing that mattered was that she'd spend the rest of her days with someone she'd never met and potentially hated. The dark-haired man patted her shoulder. "Everyone has to make sacrifices for the kingdom. Our choices affect everyone here."

"You're worried I'll leave, aren't you?" She knew that tone in his voice; she'd heard it every time she talked about the adventures in the books she read and when she spoke of her dreams and the life she wished she had. Brown eyes met eyes just shades darker as he nodded slowly. They both knew the penalty for her doing something so reckless and neither liked the look of it. "I won't. I know my duty to the crown; I was at least taught that." It was probably the only thing 'useful' she was taught. Her brothers got tutors for their studies, trainers for their magic, and knights for their fighting. She was taught how to be a lady. Taught to wear the most fashionable clothes, taught to read and write, taught to speak properly, and taught to care for a household. That was her duty in life.

Jonas stood up straighter, placing a hand on his sister's shoulder. "I wish you could have everything you wish for, Xan. If only the war ended—"

"That wouldn't matter." She cut in, voice sharper than the blade at her brother's side. If there was one discussion that she was passionate about, it was this one. "The disregard for my dreams has nothing to do with this war, even someone as uneducated as myself can see that. If we were in a time of peace, nothing would be different for me. The only way to escape that is to leave."

"Shush," Jonas muttered quickly as she started to raise her voice. "It's people like you that give the executioners job security. What do you expect to happen? You can't ascend the throne any more than I can. You surely can't make it out there on your own with no skills but arguing. The best life you can wish for is exactly what Father is trying to give you."

Alexandria blinked, taken aback. She could feel that annoying, dark little voice in the back of her head trying to push its way to the front of her mind. 'You see that sword. Don't you wonder what it feel like to drive it through his chest?' Alexandria was terrified of that voice; it always pushed her, said things that she would never say. It had been there for as long as she could remember, twisting what she heard and pushing words out of her mouth before she could stop it. During the worst of it, her parents had called upon theurgists to look her over in their obvious fear of mental decay. They'd found nothing wrong with her and chalked it up to an overactive imagination. Alexandria had at least developed enough control over it to keep herself from looking completely crazy.

"W-what did you say?" She asked, blinking furiously as she tried to hide the anger welling up inside her.

Jonas blinked at her in confusion. "I said 'you're going to get yourself killed with your arguing one day. Father won't always be around to excuse it." She sighed in relief. The times that the voice twisted her hearing were some of the worse. It was like a very vivid dream where she couldn't sort out what was real and what was imagined. Still, her eyes couldn't help but wonder to the hilt of the sword in his belt. Jonas continued to blink at her, now looking worried. "Are you feeling ill?"

She waved his question away, faking a small smile. Alexandria could still feel the voice pressing against her mind, hissing into her ears as the smile faded from her face. "The moon is high. I should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be an exciting day."

Jonas didn't look convinced, but he nodded and pushed himself away from the foot of her bed and towards the door. "If you need anything—"

"I'm fine. Get some sleep." The red-head ushered him out of the room and closed the door, flicking the familiar lock into the safe position before letting out a sigh of relief. The voice had been gone for months, so long that she'd begun to think she'd been cured of the ailment. Yet, here it was, making itself at home in her head and invading her thoughts. Alexandria slowly slunk to her bed, pulling the covers back mechanically and sliding between the sheets as she watched the clouds in the sky drift by.

'You could jump out that window.'

Alexandria froze, fingers gripping the top edge of her blanket as she pulled it up to her mouth. She hated those thoughts; she could feel the darkness in her mind like a tumor. 'That's what you want: freedom. Go take it.' She shook her head in answer, brown eyes wide with worry and fear. There was no hiding from it, no escaping. She had no freedom, not even in her own thoughts.

'You could do it. Rules are for breaking.'