Chapter Two

Red

Evermarie and Siarya joined their younger sister, Eriana, who was garbed in a green gown of emeralds and pearls that contrasted against her golden ringlets. They stood near a large glass door made inside a golden arch, with crystalline handles. Various women stood there with puffed out gowns and luxurious decorations, accompanied by tall and handsome men wearing just as proper attire.

Their mother stood next to Siarya. She was dressed in a magnificent, large ball gown entirely laced with sequins and jewels. Her pale blonde hair was pinned up tightly upon her elegant head, her giant crown shimmering in the torchlight. Leaning in slightly, she whispered gently but sternly into Siarya's ear. "You're late."

"There were some… preparation difficulties." Siarya struggled for a proper answer.

"Does it matter?"

"I'm sorry, mother." She whispered. The Queen's grip turned softer at Siarya's anxious expression. Her sharp gray eyes warmed, and she nodded at Siarya kindly.

"Go."

Siarya walked out onto the balcony where a crowd of glimmering gowns and glorious peoples clapped uproariously. Praises were called out and Siarya smiled and waved in greeting as if being late had just been graciously part of the plan.

Evermarie and Eriana soon followed after her, and then the King and Queen. The King wore his furs from his latest hunt proudly, his golden crown gleaming heavily upon his auburn-haired head. He gazed upon Siarya with a hint of genuine pride, which made her blush slightly.

Although he was her father, Siarya honestly didn't know the King that well. He was always away on business, or on hunts, or having some excuse to spend a few months elsewhere. He never smiled around mother, and he kept himself oddly distanced from Siarya. Her sisters he doted upon, but to Siarya, he kept away. Siarya once thought it was contempt and dislike that pulled him away from her, but there was never any cruelty in his eyes. It was just… blank.

And sometimes, in the glint of the light, she saw pity.

Her father was an odd man at his best. Siarya just taught herself to ignore it, despite the hurtful bite of it all. Love was not something that was needed so much in Royal life, Siarya figured. She'd gone well enough without it.

She dragged her eyes away from the King and gazed upon the people. They were staring up at her expectantly, and she cleared her throat for her practiced speech. She had rehearsed it various times in front of the mirror to perfectly mask her aversion to talking to so many people.

"Fine subjects of Sephoria, I must thank you for arriving here tonight. It is my greatest honor to be within a loyal kingdom. I hope you find the food and serving here in the Hollow to your taste, and that this ball shall be remembered for ages." Siarya complimented them with the usual flattery of loyalty and fake sincerity. As she took a breath of disdain, she glanced at the clock. Fifteen past seven.

Siarya swallowed dryly. "The Sephorians are strong, healthy, and omnipotent. We are the stars in the heavens that light up this world of darkness. I wish to rule with all of the kindness you deserve. Every year we should be grateful for surviving from the terrible Drovanians," Eriana handed Siarya a glass of wine. She was grinning wryly—she knew Siarya hated speeches. "Today, I would like to make a toast. This toast is specifically a thank you—a thank you for the Gods Airia and Gabriel and our good luck for making it past another year."

Everyone nodded and took a sip of the wine, as did Siarya. For her, it was bitter sweet as the crowd applauded.

Intending to avoid any contact with suitors looking for her hand, relatives, or friends wishing to congratulate her, she moved her way towards the Rose Garden. But Eriana caught her first by the arm.

"Where are you going?" She asked, eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Your birthday ball is going to be inside."

"I know that," Siarya replied sheepishly. "And I'll be in there in a little bit. I just… have some stuff to do."

Eriana's annoyed expression turned into one of realization. She let go of Siarya's arm with a huff of breath. "You're going to see him again, aren't you?"

Siarya frowned at the tone of her voice. "So what if I am?"

"Nothing," Eriana waved her hand in dismissal. "But he gives me the creeps, that's all."

"William is nothing but a gentlemen," Siarya said in his defense. "You should think better of him."

"I will when he stops being weird."

"He's not weird."

"I heard he likes to stroke the butts of the animals he hunts." Eriana said bluntly, her eyes focusing on her nails.

Siarya scoffed in disgust. "You're such a liar, Eri. That's so gross."

"Well, just think of that when you're snogging him."

"I doubt I will," she glared at Eriana before glancing at the clock again. "Look, I have to go. Cover for me?"

Eriana suddenly looked agitated. "What? I never agreed to that! How do you expect me to cover for you?"

Siarya turned away from her quickly. "Think of something."

"But you're the birthday girl—!"

"Think of something!" Siarya repeated loudly before purposely disappearing from Eriana's view.

After a minute or two, Siarya finally escaped the clutches of the crowd in the Dancing Nest as the dances finally begun. The instruments played in the background as Siarya walked through the garden, trying to find her love.

Because William was the Captain of her father's Army, he never had a lot of time. He was always busy with sword fighting and intense training, and Siarya understood that completely. It took a lot of energy to become a man like William—so full of devotion and strength. But when she could, she'd always try to meet up with him. He'd shed her with attention and adoration, and she'd feel warm and content for once. He was so kind, so sweet, and so very handsome.

She found that she yearned for his love. His whispered words of respect and encouragement. The warmth he gave her was addicting, and it felt like her own emotions had swept her away into the world that is him.

She jumped when she felt warm fingers on her waist, and she turned around abruptly. She was suddenly being kissed by a pair of plush, tender lips. Her mind went blank as she giggled against the kiss, holding him in her arms. He broke it hesitantly. "Hello, love."

"William." She let out breathlessly, opening her eyes widely.

Half of his face glowed in the firelight. He was clean-shaven, with tawny brown hair and handsome sharp features in his face and jaw. His eyes were a mossy green, bright and luminous in the dark. "Are you well tonight?"

"I am," Siarya smiled gently, unable to take her eyes off of his features. She cupped his neck with her hands, and already the warm fuzziness began to fill her from inside. "And you?"

"Busy."

"Oh?" She raised her eyebrow, her palms spreading apart upon his broad chest. "With whom?"

"A certain lady," He whispered in her ear. His voice was melodic. "I don't believe anyone has told her how truly beautiful she looks tonight."

"Mmm," Siarya replied softly, leaning into the tickling sensation of his mouth. Her heart skipped at the compliment. "I'm jealous."

"Are you now?"

She giggled as he pulled her into another kiss, but she spoke against his lips soon after. He looked at her with a frown as she pushed out, "Everyone won't stop talking about my future."

"And what do they say?" William asked with an arch on his eyebrow. A part of him looked a little impatient like he didn't want to talk to her.

"They say I am to be married; that I am to become Queen soon." Siarya studied his reaction as she spoke. She'd been hinting to this constantly with him.

"And a wonderful Queen you shall be…" He smiled, which disappointed her. She was hoping for something else. A proposal, maybe?

He pressed his lips against hers. She felt him pushing her softly against the stone garden wall. She grinned against his lips still as she let him caress her torso with his big hands, down to her waist…

The next half-hour was spent with pleasant kissing, which she didn't mind. They did this in secret, although many knew of their 'feelings' for each other. When he complimented her on her beauty, she always received a good feeling in her chest. He really loved her.

And love was an addictive feeling.

Siarya wondered how they would look together; two beautiful people in the moonlight, deeply in love. She belonged with him. He was the only man as handsome as she deserved. He could protect her from the ruffians and thugs beyond the Hollow walls; for that's really all they were out there. Every dirty villager and merchant that as a Royal, she never really cared for.

And there was no man, no soldier, or any handsome brute as admired as him in Sephoria. If there was, she would have known. Of course, it wasn't very hard to see why; he was like a God. As a specimen such as him, he is truly and incredibly extraordinary.

His flushed lips separated from hers, his green eyes glistening with gold flecks in the low lighting. His hands trailed from her waist to the course of her spine, stopping at the sensitive area between her shoulder blades. "May I touch them?"

She blinked. He wanted to touch her wings. To touch another's wings was extremely personal, like a virtue, or the literal sense of a soul's virginity. Only mates were allowed to do so, and it surprised her that he'd ask of such a thing. "I…"

Before she could answer, he opened up his own wings. They were gigantic and bright as if looking into a thousand stars attached perfectly on each feather, each a pure white with gentle hues of gold brushed on like a painting. His purity took her breath away. His voice was melodic and delicious, "I'll let you touch mine."

She lifted her hands so that her fingers were inches away from his glowing white wings; she could feel the energy and warmth radiating off of them like a holy fire. But he caught her wrist in his long fingers before she could touch them. She raised her brows questioningly.

"Not before I touch yours." He said softly.

She hesitated. Unfurling her wings would be against the rules. She never let anyone touch her wings before. Kissing was one thing, but letting another man place their hand upon an extension of her soul was something that was usually done during… well, mating. But then again, she was willing to touch his wings, wasn't she?

Yet the thought of him laying his hands upon her wings invoked a sort of panic that she didn't quite understand. She loved him. She loved the way he loved her.

She shouldn't feel scared.

She took a step away from him when she noticed a light appear. A light from a lantern. "Who is that?"

William turned around. She felt him stiffen and his beautiful wings disappeared, and he grabbed her instantly. She found that she missed the sight of his beautiful light the moment it disappeared. "It's a person. You should go."

An emotion flooded through her. One that she didn't recognize. "Why?"

"It's your birthday— it would be utterly immature of you to be caught with a man—"

"A man who I love—"

"—before marriage." He finished abruptly.

"Must it be so hard?" Siarya whimpered as she gazed into his brilliant green eyes. "Just to be able to kiss you in public..?"

William grabbed her hands. "It shall change soon, Princess."

"How soon?"

He gave her one more kiss, but it was upon the soft skin of her dainty knuckles. "You'll see."

The lantern's light grew nearer and she could see a flash of red hair. Before she could respond, his eyes widened and he spoke again much too quickly. "Go. We will meet again."

If she wasn't taught to be so obedient, she may have wondered why he wanted her to leave so bad. But instead she left, disappearing into the rose bushes without a trace of thought.

~.~

Siarya moved gracefully back into the Dancing Nest. The Dancing Nest was made of golden branches; the curtains were of satin, the glittering floors of amber, and the radiating chandelier of bronze. It smelled of candles and perfumes, and delicately patterned masonry decorated every surface. Not many had noticed her absence, although they did acknowledge her entrance. Soon wealthy gentlemen and ladies bustled around her, congratulating her on her achievements and heart-warming speech.

Eriana was dancing with a young gentleman; he looked the age of seventeen. Eriana, whose soft features denied any secrecy of her emotions, seemed bored. She was a tiny thing, really, for girl of ten years.

"You look extravagant tonight, my dear." A woman complimented her from behind as she turned around.

Siarya recognized her as her aunt on her mother's side, the Duchess of Cyrania, a Kingdom of the upmost civility. One couldn't even walk into the streets of the Kingdom without clean shoes, or they'd be thrown out. "Oh, Aunt Helena. You surprised me. I'm glad that you made it here tonight."

"The same for you, child." The Duchess smiled joyously, her carefully powdered cheeks blushing slightly. She was a lot like Siarya's mother in a way that was cold and intimidating, with her pale blonde hair and calculating gray eyes. There was a certain lack of natural confidence, however, that her Aunt couldn't ever cover up no matter how much she tried.

"It's nice to see you again."

"Yes, well, a woman like me needs to get out every once in a while," she swung her golden-patterned fan towards her face and laughed heartily as Siarya masked her dislike with a practiced chuckle. "I haven't been her since the last Winter Solstice. How are your parents, dear?"

"They are well." Siarya answered flatly.

Siarya never liked the Duchess, and she had a large reason for it. Aunt Helena was determined to achieve more than her sister ever could—when Siarya's mother had married a King, Aunt Helena would not stop until she had married a King herself, which she failed. When Evermarie was born, Aunt Helena gave birth to a daughter named Sabeline, who she claimed to be so talented that she had started walking at just six months. When it came to comparing children, Sabeline was always better than Evermarie, Eriana, and Siarya combined; all responsibility, sweetness, and beauty. Aunt Helena often bragged of her other son, Michael, and of how he was already married to some beautiful Marquess with two male children.

"I suppose they are…" Aunt Helena huffed as she turned her head, her face glowing from the heat of the Dancing Nest. "Here comes my daughter. Do you recall Sabeline? She's about your age now, isn't she? Her father is around here somewhere—with the grandchildren, I expect. Did I tell you that Michael has two boys, now?"

"Perhaps another time." Siarya smiled assuredly, and she tried to move away from her, but Aunt Helena hooked her arm around Siarya's elbow like a steel trap.

"My dear," her Aunt spoke like a vice. "It's just been so long since we've spoken to each other. Tell me, have you any new skills?"

"Skills? Indeed. I love to sew." Siarya lied, masking her surprise.

"How lovely," She smiled, baring perfect teeth. "Do you paint or draw?"

"No, I am afraid not."

"Oh my, that's too bad." Aunt Helena lifted her glass of wine to her lips somberly, yet there was a ghost of a crimson smile on her face.

Siarya felt a soft hand placed on her shoulder, warm and reassuring. Lifting her head, she peered up to see the face of the Queen. "My dear Helena, it's been a while. So long, in fact, I don't believe you've seen just how much Siarya was improved. She's coming along quite nicely for her age—she is very talented and is proudly adored by many."

"Oh yes, I'm sure," Sabeline appeared from behind the Duchess, amber-like eyes sparkling with glee and challenging wit. She shared a pink, stunning smile as she eyed the three of them; her heart-shaped face all powder, lipstick, and blush. Her silvery blonde hair was in ringlets that fell to her shoulders in a carefully woven bun. She was a rather flat-chested girl, but one could hardly notice when she was covered in sequined gold. She met Siarya's sharp blue eyes with her own. "Siarya! It's been months, hasn't it?"

Siarya's eyebrows rose and she fought to restrain her scowl. She hated her cousin. One time, she remembered that Sabeline had spilled wine all over Siarya's new white dress when she had visited for the summer two years ago. Sabeline had simply apologized and laughed about it, claiming she was clumsy and blushing wildly in front of the men that were there. "I hadn't kept track."

"Certainly. I was beginning to miss my favorite cousin." Sabeline laughed and bumped shoulders with Siarya, who stood rigidly.

"Sabeline has been quite busy lately," Aunt Helena spoke imperiously, smiling widely. "With Michael's wife having her second son, it's just been hectic for our side of the family. You remember your other cousin, Siarya? Well, his wife Juliette is a very sweet girl. Sabeline has been befriending her and since Juliette's mother was taught by a famous musician, Juliette is very experienced and has been tutoring Sabeline in violin and piano."

"Have you any talent in the musical arts?" Sabeline questioned in a light, chiming voice alongside her mother. "It's quite a favorable skill."

"Siarya is not taught the arts, dear child," The Queen smiled charismatically as she answered for Siarya, her hard eyes fixated on her niece. Siarya swore she could see Sabeline flush slightly at her Aunt's gaze. "She is taught the laws of propriety and etiquette required for Sephoria. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Not surprising." Aunt Helena responded with a soft cough.

"I write quite well." Siarya added hopelessly, her eyes glancing between them.

Her Aunt nodded in acknowledgement, but it was short and meaningless. "That's nice, dear."

Siarya was then silently pushed into an absence of sound by her mother for the rest of the time spent with the couple, for unmentioned reasons of the chance of being asked any questions that could harm Siarya's reputation of great ladylike knowledge.

Her mother had a way of doing this; always speaking in such a way that every eye could turn upon her and forget that any other individual of importance was near. Perhaps that was why Aunt Helena was always so jealous.

Aunt Helena was not the only family member she knew, either; Queen Genevieve had a brother as well, a Duke by the name of Beckett. He lived near Aunt Helena's estate and he doted on Evermarie and Eriana, but refused to believe that Siarya was a good niece. He never mistreated Siarya directly, although he was an expert in passive-aggression and hardly ever spoke as kindly of her as her sisters.

Perhaps she had spit up on him as a child and that had just scarred him forever or something. She didn't really know what his problem was, and she never felt like asking. His wife, however, seemed nice enough considering she always sent her lace garments and random perfumes as if to make up for her husband's attitude.

Siarya also had two Uncles and an Aunt on her father's side. The Duke and Duchess of Parvicum, a Kingdom very far away from Sephoria, where her cousins lived—Annamarie and Madeline. They were around her age and were apparently quiet pleasant, but they never visited during the holidays.

Her second Aunt, Lady Carina, was married to a Lord Phillip, who apparently had been married four times. She had one son; Siarya's cousin, Eugene, who was just under two years old. She was a nice woman who occasionally sent letters, but remained basically isolated from the family.

And then there was Uncle Gabriel. As far as Siarya knew, he never left his castle and he refused all offers of marriage from fathers who wished to marry off their daughters. He seemed to favor Siarya more than anybody else in the family, however, as he always sends her gifts, but he never dared to visit. The family hardly spoke of him.

She left her family's conversation and danced with a few more partners, conversing with others delightfully. She felt happy, as usual, while surrounded by graceful dancing figures and tall, golden walls. The sky outside was speckled with glittering stars that decorated the ceiling-tall windows.

If she asked for wine, there was always a server to help her. If she asked for a dance, nobody would ever decline. Everyone was here because of her. Everyone admired, loved, and respected her—they gave her gifts, compliments, and their loyalty. Because of this, she knew she was incredible; how could others resist her?

But there was a particular sensation that Siarya couldn't shake; a feeling that she was being watched. Usually it was normal for others to watch her, for she thought of herself as fascinating. But it was a different kind of feeling; she wasn't sure how it was different.

Feeling fatigued from the dancing, she exited the Dancing Nest with a glass of wine. In the large corridor that separated the courtyard from the Dancing Nest, Julietta and Shantaina were conversing with one of the many wealthy elders. Seeing Siarya, they excused themselves to complain about the quickness of the music and the lack of young men.

After agreeing with them whole-heartedly, they moved into the courtyard which lay directly under the large balcony that sprouted from the Dancing Nest. The sound of metal against metal caught her attention as a man with a sword fought a knight in armor.

"Why in the world are they dueling tonight?" Julietta asked, shocked. "Prancing around like wild animals."

Siarya noticed a man's laugh, for which she recognized easily. In the corner, surrounded by many men, stood William. His hair was ruffled and his cheeks tinted from the wine and laughter. He looked slightly dazed.

Siarya barely noticed as one of the knights fell to his opponents knees, clearly beaten. She was too consumed wondering why William was stumbling around like he was-she had never seen him drunk.

Somebody shook her shoulder. "Sia, look!"

I heard Shantaina gasp. "Oh my, it's a woman!"

Siarya reluctantly moved her gaze from William to the knight who had gained victory. To her surprise, it was indeed a woman. The silvery long hair that was revealed after taking off her helmet showed proof of a female. She was slim and well-built for a woman, although she could not possibly be a knight.

"Who is she?" Siarya whispered to one of the knights who stood watching.

"A Templar," He replied back after a small bow for respect. "A rank under Gladiator, such as the Captain William."

Siarya's eyes widened. "But she's a—"

"Woman, we know," he interrupted gruffly. After noticing Siarya's expression, he corrected himself quickly. "Pardon me, your highness. I hadn't meant to interrupt."

"How inappropriate," Siarya sniffled haughtily, referring to the woman dressed in armor. "She is no lady."

But the knight had already moved on to another crowd as Siarya stood watching the woman. She wondered what thoughts went through the woman's mind; did she have any sanity left?

Julietta and Shantaina conversed with low voices on their disgust over a woman acting like she belonged in something such as an army. It was manhood that belonged in wars, not fragile and lovely beings such as women. This lady was no lady, but an embarrassment to womanhood.

They distracted Siarya long enough for the mysterious woman to walk over to the Princess. Siarya felt dumbfounded as the woman bowed respectfully. Siarya felt sick looking at her.

"Greetings, your highness. Are you well this evening?" Her voice was smooth and it had an accent to it that Siarya couldn't name.

"I'm decent." She replied swiftly.

The woman smirked, which confused Siarya. Shouldn't she be intimidated? "My name is Niera."

"I did not ask for your name."

"Well, I suppose I made it easier. Now you know." Niera said blatantly. She began to clean the silver blade of her sword with a thin stained cloth in front of the Princess as if Siarya's company was as important as the arrival of a Royal dog.

Shantaina coughed at Niera's directness.

Siarya tilted her head. She disliked this woman. "Forgive me if you find this offensive, but you fight like a man. Why do you do so? I speak on behalf for your reputation, darling, but you won't find a husband if you keep acting like a barbarian."

Niera looked up with an expression of shock, but then merely shook her head and chuckled loudly which made Siarya uncomfortable. "The average lady would rather have beauty than brains because the average gentlemen can see better than he can think. What makes you think I desire a husband?"

"What makes you think you shall not be punished for your disrespect to the Princess of Sephoria?" Julietta retorted sharply. "You are to regain yourself, Templar."

Niera pursed her lips. "I do not imply to give any disrespect to the lovely Princess of Sephoria, ladies. I am merely giving her advice."

Siarya raised her eyebrow. "Advice is the last thing I require from a barbarian such as you."

"Are you sure?" Niera peered up at the balcony above. "You are being watched. Be careful for who you think you love, Princess. You might wish to know how to protect yourself from what you call real men and women."

She then left with a swift courtesy. Siarya looked up reluctantly to see a lovely woman with fiery red hair garbed in bright emerald green tresses and glittering jewelry. She watched her with sharp blue eyes as Siarya stared in awe. The red hair from the Rose Garden?

But the moment they made eye contact, the woman disappeared. Julietta and Shantaina were slow; they claimed they saw no lady or gentleman. But Siarya did.