thanks for reviewing...sos, sorry theres so much "happy" things, dont worry Pertia the bi7ch will always be there to be herself. especially when it gets gooey etc. :) shes my evil one.
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The footman heaved the last trunk onto the carriage as the Princess Ryth walked sedately with her baby, her quiet husband trotting at her heels.
Unlike the other servants, Selene watched the procession from the kitchen window. The king and queen waited by the steps of the gate, conversing with Pertia, Elenia, and Elesia. The latter daughter wrung her hands under her skirt, dreadfully nervous at the close proximity of the royal family.
Selene sighed. The month had ended too quickly, though Ryth was not fully healed. She would miss Corren, and his friendship, dearly.
"Selene?" a quiet voice said behind her. She turned hastily, upsetting the stool she sat upon. Corren grinned as she blushed, picking up the offending seat from the ground. "I have to leave now," he said slowly, as if wishing to prolong his stay.
"I know," she replied, wondering what to say. Would the Prince, returning to his exquisite palace and worldly position, remember a passing servant girl? Her eyes threatened to spill over, yet she stubbornly held back her tears behind her calm emerald gaze.
He stood there, the strangest look in his golden brown eyes. "I...am so glad to have met you," he stumbled over his words, "When I can, I will visit...that is, if it's all right..." he added hastily.
Selene grinned, her turn to find humor in the other's dismay. "Of course! That is, if you can survive Pertia throwing her younger daughter at you whenever you come."
Groaning, Corren fended off the imaginary girl with protesting hands. "Ahhh! Too scary!" he joked. "She's almost like a predator, they both seem to know where I am, and how to 'attack' me while i'm least expecting it..." He knew he was babbling, but didn't care.
"Corren?" The queen's voice broke through their indivisual reveries, and startling them both into movement. "We're going to leave, and without you!"
"Coming!" he hollered back. Turning back to Selene, the young man took her hand in both of his awkwardly. "Thank you, for everything." He kissed her hand, blushing, then turned and fled through the kitchen door, leaving a thoroughly shocked girl with her hand still poised in the air.
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One week later, Elesia walked timidly into the small herbal workroom. "Selene?" she said quietly, carrying a box of pink silk pieces and ribbons. "Mother wants us- well, you- to make sachets for her party in two days, rose and lilac. But it shall be we who make these." Offering the box, the painfully slender girl sat across from Selene and began to thread a needle.
They chattered about the upcoming banquet, the guests, who was seeing who and who married who for half an hour. Quietly and neatly, they sewed the tiny bags to be filled with dried petals.
"Elesia?" Selene began, almost as timidly as her step-sister usually spoke.
"Yes?"
She flushed. "Why does your mother hate me so?" she asked, for the first time in the two years she had known Pertia. "And your sister?"
Elesia put down her sewing, smoothing the pale, silky cloth. "Well," she said slowly, deliberately, "I know my mother dislikes you because she...disliked...your father," the girl said tactfully. "She wants to keep you quiet so you cannot claim a portion of the fortune she acquired through her unloved marriage. Also, she is hateful because you are everything she wishes her Elenia to be, so she continuously grinds you into the common soil as a servant."
The brunette paused for a long while, hand poised over the rose-silk sachet. "Elenia is spiteful because Mother wishes her to be beautiful, accomplished, and popular, let alone make a good match. Though she meets these requirements, she is forced to struggle to maintain it. She loathes you because, dear sister, you can obviously do all four without any effort." The gentle girl sighed, ending her uncharacteristically sentimental explaination, and sat silently once again.
Selene drank in the information. "Thank you," she said softly. "I have been wondering for so long...But," she added, "why do you not hate me also? I know Pertia pressures you also."
Elesia smiled, her blue eyes candid. "Mother doesn't pressure me half as much as she does to my sister," she laughed, her pretty face alight with mischief, "and besides, I like you. It seems sometimes that you are my true sibling and the other some faerie's changeling."
They giggled together for a second or two, imagining Elenia with wings, forever nagging at the flower petals and soft moss. Elesia shook her chestnut curls, dispelling all bad thoughts. "By the way, have you heard who the latest Elenia Courter is?" Selene looked up inquiringly, and her step-sister proceeded to tell the latest gossip.
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Corren sat at his window, staring into the dark blue sky. "Catch one in your hand," he whispered to himself, curbing the urge to reach out as Selene did. Barely managing to do this, he reminded himself that the girl probably didn't even care about him, or even remember.
"What a fool I am," Corren muttered. He missed her so much...his only true friend, unconditionally accepting him for who he was, not just his crown or title. Like those court girls, who chirped brainlessly for attention. He was not a naturally suave or flirtatious person, to their dismay, so they felt the hideous need to crowd around him more, until he felt like screaming in frustration.
He sighed, going over the list in his mind. Three months before he needed to make a choice. Who was he to break three hundred years of tradition? The prince had to be betrothed before his eighteenth birthday. Parades of endless girls, all suitable matches, flashed before his eyes, all demure with eyes downcast in mock shyness.
And yet, he knew which girl he loved already, one who stood in the corner, whose green eyes met his gaze firmly, without fear or reserve.
Utterly miserable, he gave in and extended one hand to the silver-spotted sky, cupping one sparkling star in his palm. Little did he know that Selene, on the other side of the river, was holding the same star in her own hand, her heart aching for the loss of her Prince.
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