Chapter 1: In a kingdom far, far away…
Sitting back on her heels, Raven Roth wiped the back of her hand across her sweaty brow. She knew as she did it that a large black streak had been smudged on her pale skin, but she couldn't truthfully say that she cared.
She glared at the fireplace she had been trying to start. It would have been an easy enough task, but her loving slave drivers refused to give her a copper or two to by a flint with, so she had to make due with rapidly rubbing sticks together. She had finally got a few sparks, now she had to tease them into a flame. Gently blowing on it, and feeding it small wood shavings, Raven coaxed it to life. It was small, but it would suffice.
Usually she didn't let the embers cool, so all she had to do was stoke it every so often, but she had been scrubbing floors all night. She had been having so much fun that it had completely slipped her mind.
A grim smile flashed across her face, before disappearing without a trace. Feeling her legs cramp slightly from her crouching position, Raven stood up and walked across the small kitchen to a table with a book resting on it.
Wiping her soot-covered hands on her apron, she picked up the book and gently ran her fingers down the spine. It was the only thing she had left. It had belonged to her father, along with most of the other items in the house, but this was special. He had given it to her the day before he had died. If they knew she had it… she didn't want to think about it.
She was just opening the first page- despite only have the dim light from her fire to read by- when she heard the familiar click of heels coming down wooden stairs. Hastily, she closed the book and placed it under a clean rag sitting on the table. She turned around just as two sneering girls finished descending the stairs behind her.
"Well, don't you look lovely, Raven. What's the special occasion?" one asked mockingly. Raven's first reaction would have been to rub away the large smudge she knew was on her forehead, but she refused to give the jeering girls the satisfaction.
"I'm not doing anything important, Victoria." Raven replied. In her opinion, it wasn't a lie. Making small talk with idiots- who shouldn't even use embroidery needles without adult supervision- didn't count as a special occasion in Raven's books.
"What are you hiding?" Victoria continued.
"Yeah, what are you hiding?" the other girl, Tavia, repeated dumbly.
Raven automatically put a hand on the rag behind her as Victoria and Tavia strained to look around her.
"Nothing that concerns you," she replied, staring back defiantly.
"Everything that you do concerns us," Victoria snapped, throwing away her 'friendly' façade. "Now show us what you're hiding, or we'll tell mother that you stole from us."
"I stole nothing," Raven replied, fists balling in anger.
"Yeah, right." Victoria sneered. "You're nothing but a beggar, living in our cellar and eating our food. I wouldn't put it past you to steal from us."
"This was my home before you came, and the food you stuff yourselves with is bought with my father's money," Raven said icily. "Taking something from one place in my house, to another is not stealing."
"Shut your mouth," Tavia snapped.
"Make me," Raven dared. Before either could reply, Raven grabbed the book and pushed past the girls. She ran up the stairs quickly, while they scrambled after her, their angry screeches making her ears ring.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Raven sprinted across the main foyer and out the back door. Slamming it shut behind her, she ran through the garden, pushing her way through bushes and fallen branches in the long neglected yard.
Running through the overgrown garden, she received several small scrapes from thorns, and a few new holes appeared in her dress. After a while she slowed down. Victoria and Tavia wouldn't come looking for her out here.
Pushing past one last bush, Raven made her way into a small sitting area. It was fairly secluded, sitting in the far back corner of the walled garden, with various trees growing around it. Vines stretched across the pale stone wall, and a small fish pool sat in the centre. Strung from the largest branch of one of the trees was a swing with flowery vines creeping down its ropes.
Raven walked across the bricks that had been put down in the centre of the clearing and sat on the swing. She looked whimsically around the sitting area, remembering the many nights so long ago, when she and her parents had come out here. Her mother, Arella, had sat on the edge of the fountain, listening as Raven's father read her stories and sat on the swing with the little girl on his knee.
Looking down at the book, still clutched tightly against her chest, Raven noticed that the rag was still wrapped around it. She tossed the scrap of material onto the ground and looked at the book. The leather cover was beginning to crease in one corner, and the yellow parchment curled around the edges, but it was still beautiful. The golden script of the title, flashed in the fading light: My Raven.
Her father had written it, before her mother had died from influenza. He had told her all those years ago, that the stories in it were about her, and the wonderful adventures she'd have when she grew up. He had told her of how she'd meet magical people, travel to places others only dreamed about, and that she would fall in love with a handsome prince. She knew now that none of that would happen, especially with Melinda and her oh-so-charming daughters around.
Melinda had entered the picture two years after Arella's death. She had swooped down, taking advantage of her father's loneliness. They married after only a month, and she had moved in with her two daughters. Victoria was a year older than Raven, Tavia a year younger. Her father had told her they would be the best of friends. The part that angered Raven was that she had believed him.
A year after the wedding, her father fell ill. Numerous doctors had examined him, but none could figure out what was wrong with him. Rumours of poison were whispered, but none could be proven. Besides, who would poison him? Who, indeed.
Melinda had spent much time with him during his dying days. She had spoken to him, but the door had always been closed, so no one was sure what about. Although she had never voiced her opinion, Raven had noticed that Melinda hadn't shed a single tear at the funeral ceremony, despite the handkerchief she had held firmly over her nose and mouth.
Raven had only been allowed to see her father a few times in his dying days. Most of those times he had been asleep or delusional. The last time she had seen him had been the day before her tenth birthday. It had also been the day before he died.
"Raven, my Raven," he had whispered, gazing at her with half-open eyes. "You're growing up so quickly. You look just like your mother."
"Thank you father," she remembered replying, taking his hand in her own.
"Tomorrow you'll turn ten. Do you know what that means?" he had asked her. His voice sounded weak, but he had tried to hide that fact. She shook her head no.
"It means there are seven years until you are a woman. And as you know, seven is a magical number."
She nodded; he had always told her that seven was lucky.
"That is why I want to give you this," he had paused, gathering his breath and pulling a wrapped gift from under his pillow. She had looked at the purple silk ribbon, and wondered of he wanted her to open it then, or wait until her birthday the next day. She had looked at him and he had gestured for her to open it.
She pulled the ribbon off, tucking it into her pocket for later. Then she carefully removed the decorated paper that covered the gift. Underneath had been her book.
"Father," she had breathed, looking at the beautiful book.
"It is the book I wrote for you, my Raven. I have read every story to you, except one. You must wait until you are seventeen to read it though. Do you know which one it is?"
"The one with the prince?" she had known before he nodded that she was right. It was the story he had only mentioned vaguely: the one where she met a handsome prince and fell deeply in love. She had always wanted to hear it. "Must I wait?"
"Yes," he had chuckled. His chuckles had turned to a weak cough that shook his chest and made Raven want to cringe. "You must promise me that you will wait until your seventeenth birthday to read the last story. And remember, my darling, that a dream is a wish your heart makes."
Raven had known by that last part that he was back to being delusional, but she had promised and they spent the rest of the night rereading the other stories. The next day, Raven had woken up to find nursemaids and doctors running around. Her father was gone.
Now, sitting on their swing, Raven felt tempted to read the last story. But she had to wait. She would be turning seventeen in five days. That wasn't too far away.
She read the old stories from the light of the sunset until she could no longer see the words. Finally, Raven closed the book and watched fireflies dance in the dark of the night. She didn't want to go back yet. She wasn't afraid of Victoria or Tavia; they'd have become distracted by something shiny by now and forgotten all about harassing her. Still, she'd rather stay out here, but it was getting cold out.
Sighing lightly, she stood up and walked back to the house.
Quietly she opened the door and slipped into the kitchen. Light flickered across the walls, greeting her as she entered the empty room. At least, she thought it was empty.
"Raven, where have you been?" asked a stern voice. Raven looked over at the table to see Melinda sitting at the wooden table. Her daughters stood behind her with cheeky smiles plastered on their faces.
"I was just out in the garden," she replied, holding the book behind her back in what she hoped would look like a natural position.
"I'm sure you were," Melinda agreed, looking with distaste at the dirt on Raven's clothes and the leaves in her hair. "Well, hand it over."
"What?" Raven was shocked at the way Melinda had gone straight to it. Usually she liked to toy with Raven, much like a cat plays with a mouse before dinner.
"Hand me whatever it is that you've stolen," she clarified, holding out a regal hand.
"I've stolen nothing," Raven told her. Her grip tightened on the book behind her back.
"Give it to me, or you'll have no dinner for a month."
Raven winced. She knew that Melinda's threats were always carried out. Still, she didn't need food that badly, did she? Raven couldn't say that she wasn't tempted to take her punishment and keep her book, but in the end reason made up her mind.
Even if she refused to give it to her, Melinda would take it eventually and Raven would be left to starve for a month. Besides, she could always smuggle it out of Melinda's room when she did the dusting.
Reluctantly, she handed Melinda the book, feeling her stomach turn when Melinda's smooth hands closed around the side.
"My Raven," Melinda read, sneering. "What is this rubbish?"
"It's not rubbish. Father wrote it for me," she replied. Her voice stayed a careful monotone, while anger flashed in her eyes.
"I see," she replied. Silently, Melinda's free hand closed around her cane, which had been resting on the side of the table. Slowly she got up and turned. "Come along girls."
Disappointment crossed their homely features, upset that there hadn't been more drama, but they followed their mother obediently.
Raven watched Melinda saunter across the cellar, a malicious smirk on her beautiful face. Raven didn't trust it.
As Melinda neared the fireplace, she made a show of placing too much weight on her cane and stumbling. As she lost her footing, the book slipped from her hands and fell into the fire.
With a small shout, Raven rushed forward as the flames quickly engulfed the dry paper. She reached into the blaze, but hastily pulled her hand back when the flames licked at it painfully.
Blowing on her lightly burnt hand, Raven looked up at her stepmother with a blank face. Melinda stared back coolly, not a single hint of remorse in her eyes, while Victoria and Tavia cackled behind her.
Without another word, they left the cellar, leaving Raven to watch her story go up in flames.
-
"WHAT?"
The sound of glass breaking echoed around King Marcus's chamber as an expensive vase was thrown against a stone wall.
"What do you mean he won't do it?" the king yelled angrily. Victor- the king's personal advisor- winced, mentally calculating the vase's worth.
"He said that he refuses to marry the Princess Torra, of our neighbouring kingdom, because she is 'a snotty, stuck-up girl, who needs a reality check'. His words, not mine," Victor replied, looking back at the fuming monarch.
"That boy is impossible," Marcus growled, slamming his fist down on his writing table. "Why can't he just choose a wife? He needs to eventually!"
"Sire, if I might be so bold, I would like to point out that love takes time," Victor said carefully, "You can't force him to marry someone he doesn't love."
Taking a deep breath, Marcus forced himself to lower his voice.
"This shouldn't be a matter of love," he told his advisor. "It should be a matter of state. I'm getting older. I won't be around forever, and I'd like to know that he'll have his own heirs ready for once his time is up."
"Sire," Victor said, chuckling lightly. "Garfield is young and healthy. And he is strangely lucky with the ladies."
"I suppose," King Marcus relented, slumping into his chair.
"Yes," continued Victor. "They always surround him during balls, and other social gatherings. Of course, I taught everything he knows-"
"That's it!" Marcus exclaimed, inspiration striking. "A ball!"
"A-a ball?" Victor parroted, unsure what his king was implying.
"Yes, a ball. We'll invite- no, we'll decree that every eligible maiden is to attend," Marcus said, growing excited with his plans.
"W-what?" Victor stammered. "But why?"
"So that the boy can fall in love, of course. If he won't fall in love with one of the neighbouring princesses, we'll show him all the young noble women in this kingdom. He's bound to fall in love with one of them," the king explained.
"Are you sure this is a good idea? You know he won't like being set up like that," Victor reasoned.
"Well, that's just too bad for him, isn't it?" King Marcus replied hotly. "The ball will be in three days."
"Three days?" the advisor repeated, jaw dropping. "That's hardly enough time to plan a royal ball!"
"Do you dare oppose my royal inclination?" Marcus roared, standing up.
"No sire," Victor replied hastily. Quickly, he scurried out of the room to begin the preparations, and warn his friend what had been plotted while he was out of the room.
-
Raven rubbed her eyes, groaning as she slowly woke up. Her throat hurt from the tears she had forced herself not to shed over her book the night before, even after her stepfamily had left. She blinked her eyes, adjusting them to the darkness of the kitchen before sitting up and looking around. Nothing had changed since the night before. She could still see the charred remains of her book sitting in the embers.
Gently, she picked up what was left of her book. The leather cover was completely blackened. Very few of the pages had survived the flames, and the ones that had were almost completely made of ash, and crumbled when Raven touched them.
Sighing, she dropped the scorched book back into the fireplace, tossing up sparks as she did so.
Prying her eyes away from the sight, Raven stood up and climbed out of the kitchen, into the foyer. She walked across the floor, stretching as she did so. A quick look at the large grandfather clock in the corner confirmed that she was already behind schedule.
She walked over to a small closet, filled with brooms, rags, and numerous other cleaning items. Pulling out a rag used for dusting, Raven walked up the large staircase that lead to the upper levels of the house.
She quickly dusted the first level of the house, before slowly creeping up the stairs that lead to the level with bedrooms. It wasn't that she cared whether her stepfamily woke up before noon or not that she went quietly, she just didn't want to talk to any of them.
She had just finished wiping the last railing on the second level, when there was a loud, echoing knock on the door.
"Raven, get the door…" a drowsy voice moaned through one of the doors. Rolling her eyes, Raven walked downstairs and opened the large front doors.
A man about her age stood outside the door. He was dressed in the Kingdom's colours of red, green and gold. She recognised, by the metals and uniform he wore that he was the captain of the royal guard, Sir Robin.
Robin had quite the reputation, being the youngest captain in the history of the kingdom as well as having a prestigious knighthood to his name, and Raven couldn't help but wonder what he was doing here. Perhaps he had come to slay the beasts that were currently sleeping on the second level?
"Can I help you?" Raven asked, her voice staying in its usual monotone.
"Yes, I am here to make a royal decree," he replied. Raven noticed that he looked tired, like he had been travelling all night. There was an awkward silence, as he glanced around uncertainly.
"Well?" Raven prodded, raising an eyebrow. "Decree away…"
"Oh, right," Robin stammered, faltering under her impatient gaze. "By Royal Decree of King Marcus, ruler of the Kingdom Tamborinia, there is to be a ball three days henceforth. Every eligible maiden is to attend."
"A royal ball in three days? Isn't that a bit soon?" Raven asked, leaning against the doorframe.
"No kidding," Robin laughed. "It's been a mad house around the palace, ever since the King decided last night that his son needs a ball to find a wife."
Raven flashed one of her rare, genuine smiles. Suddenly Robin's face became blank again and he stood up straight, as if remembering his position in palace hierarchy.
Quickly, he turned around and walked professionally back to his horse, and his waiting ranks of guards, and they left to inform the next house they saw of the decree.
Raven closed the door and turned around to see two sets of feet quickly rushing down the stair, followed by a slower set with a cane.
"Where is he? I know he's here!" Victoria exclaimed, shoving past Raven.
"Where's who?" Raven asked, knowing very well whom they were talking about.
"You know very well whom we're talking about," Tavia snapped, causing Raven to hide a secret smirk behind her dusting rag.
"Robin and his guard just left," Raven answered, casually walking over to dust a picture on the wall.
"Well, what did he say?" Victoria demanded. "And you didn't answer the door in that, did you?"
"Yes, in fact I did answer the door wearing this. Would you prefer I answered it naked?" Raven replied, sarcasm dripping from her words. Victoria rolled her eyes, huffing, and Raven continued. "He came to decree that, by order of the king, there's going to be a ball in three days. Every eligible maiden is to attend."
"A ball!" Tavia exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement.
"We must get ready at once," Melinda spoke up. "Raven go fetch our things. We must go to town right now to buy the best dresses they have for Victoria and Tavia."
"And what about me?" Raven asked, folding her arms defensively. "They said every eligible maiden is to attend. The last time I checked I was single and born into a good, wealthy family. Therefore, I am eligible."
"You will not be attending," Melinda replied simply. "Now go get what we need."
Without another word, Raven turned and walked upstairs to gather the things they needed to go into town. As she walked up the stairs, Melinda's words rang in her head: 'You will not be attending.'
'We'll see about that,' Raven though determinedly. 'We shall see."
Okay, so that's the end of the first chapter. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, since this chapter was mostly just to get the ball rolling. Just a quick note about Victor and Victoria. To tell the truth, I didn't really notice how close their names are until a while ago, but I really don't want to change either of them. Victoria is based on a a real girl I know, and changing her name now would totally throw me off.
Tammy Tamborine