CHAPTER 2

Melody tapped her pencil on her desk and stared absently out of the window, trying—and succeeding—to block out the obnoxious droning of the elderly man her parents had hired to teach her her lessons. They were on the fifth floor of the palace, high enough to see over the blasted wall to the flat expanse of the sea beyond it. She was hypnotized as a wave began to swell, growing and growing, white foam flying from its crest, until it crashed into the wall, causing the small pool inside of it to swell and lap against the garden it bordered. Then the wave retreated, its white foam slipping back under the blue-green waters.

She shook herself as she noticed that she was once again thinking about the startling similarity between the color of the sea and the servant boy's eyes. Stop it, she told herself, Why do you keep thinking of that? She told herself that it was just a longing for the sea, but then why was she thinking of him when she was looking at the sea itself?

"Melody?" She snapped her attention back to Mr. Gil. "Are you paying any attention to me at all?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gil. I'm just really distracted today for some reason," she said, rubbing a hand over her face. The old man smiled at her kindly.

"Well, you're still going to have to complete your assignment," he said apologetically. "You need to write a sonnet about a subject of your choosing by this time next week. Our time is up for today. Maybe you'll be more focused tomorrow." He patted her fondly on the arm, and she nodded respectfully to him.

Melody exited the classroom and walked slowly back down two floors to her room, not bothering to undress before flopping down on the bed. Even though she had barely gotten fifteen minutes to swim, she was more tired than she usually was. She sighed into one of the numerous pillows on her queen-sized bed. She wished she had that brooch she had found, the one with the hidden inscription on the ruby, but that boy had picked it up when she left it on the rock. She wondered if he kept it, or if he had left it where she had. She would look for it tomorrow. If it wasn't there, there was really nothing she could do to get it back without telling him that it had been she he had seen swimming outside the wall.

She got up and rummaged around in the bottom drawer of her bureau until she pulled out a golden box that she had found on one of her foraging trips in the grotto. It was made of intricately interlocked drawers and hidden segments, and it never ceased to fascinate her. In it, she often kept some of the other, smaller pieces she had salvaged. She found herself speculating, once again, how it had all gotten there? A shipwreck? A broken treasure chest from a pirate? Maybe it was all just riffraff from all across the ocean that had just happened to settle there over time, although that one seemed less likely.

She sat back on her bed, the box in her lap, and began to take it apart, removing piece after piece until she had a row of smaller boxes and drawers laid out on her bed, each with another one of her treasures in it. She knew exactly how to put it back together again, and took great pleasure in doing so. She went to the smallest drawer and took out a delicate golden ring. It was plain and simple, except for a small diamond in the center, set into a circle of tiny golden vines. It was one of her favorite things. Too bad she couldn't show it to anyone. If she did, they would ask where she had gotten it, and she would have to make up another lie. She didn't like lying, no matter how good at it she was. She put the ring back in its little compartment.

Melody jumped as someone knocked on the door. Cursing under her breath, she struggled to put the box back together as quickly as possible. Whoever it was knocked again. "Just a minute!" she called, panicking. Slipping the top onto the reassembled box, she tossed it unceremoniously into the drawer and kicked it closed. She hurried to the door, smoothing her hair into place and fixing a welcoming expression on her face. It was the boy. Again!

"Yes?" she asked politely.

"I-I'm sorry to bother you, again, Princess Melody," he said. "I had just had to tell you that I-I could've sworn I saw you swimming outside of the wall today." He waited for her to respond, looking borderline scared. "But it could've been someone else!" he inserted quickly when she opened her mouth to respond. "She just, well, looked a lot like you."

"I'm sorry, Mr. …?" she trailed off, looking at him curiously.

"Oh! Uh, my name is Aiden, ma'am," he told her.

"Aiden," she said. "I think you have me confused with someone else. Or rather, that you have someone else confused with me. I have never been outside of the castle wall except for special occasions, and I have definitely never been in the sea."

Aiden nodded, looking angry with himself. "Thank you, Princess, for your time. I'm sorry for the inconvenience." Then he hurried off before she could say anything in return.

"No problem," she said to the empty hallway. "No problem at all."

Aiden slowed when he was a floor down from the Princess's room. He looked back the way he had come, feeling incredibly stupid. Way to go, Aiden, he thought sarcastically, That's exactly how you should act around a princess! Didn't your mother always warn you not to act stupid? Jeez! He continued down another two floors, head down and hands deep in his pockets, then out onto the grounds toward the servants' quarters on the other side of the castle.

They were several low, one-story, wooden buildings, each with a candle in the window of the front room. He wove between them until he found the one he shared with his mother and 10-year-old sister, Alana. He entered to the smell of hot soup and freshly baked bread, and the sound of Alana laughing in the kitchen. He smiled in spite of his foul mood; home always made him happier. Despite the fact that he was a lowly kitchen boy to a wealthy family, his life was very good.

"I'm home, Mom," he called. His mother, a plump little woman with a caring, yet stern, demeanor came bustling into the room.

"Just in time for dinner, dear," she said. "Come, sit down. You look tired. Long day?" she asked sympathetically as he followed her through to the small kitchen. It contained only a stove, a few cabinets, a worktable, and a dining table set in the middle, which currently held an array of humble and mouthwatering dishes. Aiden took off his coat and hung it on the back of one of the three chairs around the table and sighed.

"Yeah, sort of." He sat down heavily, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. When he didn't elaborate, his mother began ladling stew onto his plate. "So, what did you do today, Alana?" he asked. She looked up at him with her big blue eyes and smiled happily.

"I had another lesson with one of the maids about how to sew clothes," she said brightly. It made him smile again; she was always so enthusiastic about everything. "It was so cool! She showed me how to cut the fabric to the right shape, and how to measure a person so that their clothes fit right when they put them on, and how to fix them if they rip. I think I want to be a tailor when I grow up! What about you, what did you do today?" She said all of this very quickly. The question caught him off guard, and it took him a moment to formulate his answer.

"It was fairly normal," he said, focusing on his plate. He wasn't sure why, but he was very reluctant to share the details of his day. "I poured the drinks for their breakfast. I went to the market afterward. I—" He hesitate. He wanted to show them the brooch, but it was so valuable that they would probably want to sell it, and he felt a strange attachment to the trinket. "I, uh, poured the drinks for lunch. That's my job, I do it everyday." He shrugged, trying to cover up his unease. His family seemed to take him at his word, though, and he soon relaxed as the conversation progressed to random castle gossip.

By the end of dinner he was in good humor again. When the sun had gone down, he kissed his mother on the cheek, patted his little sister on the head, and headed to his room. He used to share it with his sister, but when he turned twelve, she moved into their mother's room to give him his privacy as man of the house. It consisted of a bed in one corner with a small table next to it, a desk in another, a small chest of drawers, and a window. He pulled off his boots and put them, toe first, under the bed. He changed out of his uniform and into his blue cotton pajamas and laid in bed, holding the brooch carefully in his hands.

It was silver and delicate, covered with precious stones. There was an intricate rose wrapped around a large ruby in the center. It was by far the most expensive thing he had ever held. It was covered by a light film of dirt, and had presumably been underwater for some time. He wondered again if it was really Princess Melody he had seen fish it out of the sea. He ran his fingers over the details of the rose, the metal cold under his fingers. He squinted at the ruby in the light of the candle on his bedside table and thought he could detect something on its surface. He sat up and began to scratch at the dirt that crusted its glistening surface.

In the time before his candle flickered out, he managed to uncover two words written in a curling, elegant script: "To my." He sighed and put the brooch in the drawer of his bedside table, then crawled under the blanket and stared up at his ceiling until he fell asleep, still thinking about his day.