ARELLIA

The royal library of Illya's capital city, Orris, is vast and dusty. Filled with tomes and leather-bound bibles from a forgotten time. Floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto the city beyond make this place seem grander than it actually is. Situated in the public sector of the western wing, it is a long walk from my chambers to this old corner of the palace.

In this kingdom, it is the women who are scholars and the men, warriors. Though these days, more men are seeking academics as Illya becomes a centre of trade and learning, almost rivalling the infamous trading city-state of Angel's Path. The men here want to study history and the arts to woo women. There is a romance to those subjects, perhaps, not that I know anything about such matters. The men I know are the councillors in my father's court. Old and conniving, set in their ancient ways.

My handmaids tell me stories of first loves and tragic romances they have read. Unfortunately, these intriguing books are not available in the royal library. I listen as they gossip and swoon over handsome knights or princes from far-away lands, with their handsome faces and chivalrous nature.

I have yet to meet such a man.

Vasilis may be considered the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom but I find his beauty grotesque. There is darkness beneath. I try not to think of his likeness but I feel a shiver dance across my skin nonetheless. Fear washes over me as if mere passing thought of him, I have somehow conjured him out of thin air. The hairs on my arms stand suddenly.

I let out a loud breath and close a thick book on plant life with a loud slam. Dust flies into my eyes. I shake it off and cough.

"What is it you are looking for, your highness?" An elderly voice startles me.

Something to do, I almost say. "A book about the Era of Ash. If you have it." The old lady is the royal librarian, Mariam, with salt and pepper hair arranged in a neat tight bun. She strolls up to me gracefully, her brown robe dragging behind her. I wonder how she walks without falling.

"Ah! A classic." She nods at me to follow and takes me through rows of books with worn-out bindings. The smell of rotting paper hangs heavy in the air. I scrunch my nose.

"Apologies, your Highness. I do not have many girls working in the library these days. I am old and these ancient tomes are hard to replicate on my own." She smiles and her face wrinkles pleasantly.

"If you ever need a hand, I would be happy to help." I smile at her. Pleading. But, she only shakes her head.

"If His Highness catches you, he will have my head."

Of course, he would. Disappointed, I fidget with my shawl and look away. I am doomed to do nothing for the rest of my days until I am wed, it seems. And to a brute, no doubt. It is selfish but I pray and hope that Ghükar does not get caught.

"Here, your Highness." The old librarian grabs a leather-bound book from the bottom shelf and dusts it off with her sleeve. She hands it to me gently with a smile on her face before bowing and striding back to her little table in the corner.

I wrap the book in my shawl and hold it tightly to my chest before leaving. My handmaids bow and follow me as soon as I step away from the library. I know my history and religion, mostly from Enka and my tutors but my mind has been too preoccupied with the war of late. I must find something to pass the time.

I head towards the herb garden. It is on the third floor of the western wing, overlooking the royal garden below. It is situated high up for plant life to soak up the sun, as these plants are grown in a specific manner. I have yet to learn about these particular types of vegetation, perhaps I should've taken that book on plant life after all.

I step through billowing white curtains and I am greeted by the sweet smells of flowers and earthy herbs. The garden itself is a large balcony, fitted with a water fountain, soft grass imported from the west and several palm trees. There is a beautiful pavilion at the railing that looks down over the royal garden, adorned with lanterns and white silk drapes. As I make my way over, I notice a figure in the shade sitting with his legs crossed in a plain cotton robe.

"Father," I call. He glances up at me, his bronze skin sagged and heavy, his hair is white and combed back and hangs to his neck. His eyes are milky white. He smiles sweetly.

"My Angel," he reaches a trembling hand in my direction. I grasp it lightly and sit down across from him. "where have you been?"

"The library, father. I wanted to see if there was anything I could help with." I place the book down beside me.

He chuckles lightly. "Ah. And what did old Mariam say?" He drags his trembling fingers over a platter of fruit at the low table, brushing over a red grape before plucking it from the stem and bringing it to his mouth. I watch him chew slowly.

"She said no, of course." I sigh.

"You are the princess of this kingdom. Do not stoop to the levels of servants. Replicating books is beneath you." I clench my fists and look down. I do not reply.

"You should mind your health, father. Those stairs cannot be good for your legs." He senses worry in my tone and smiles lightly.

After a long moment, he says, "I would like to be here to see you wed, Arellia." The change in his tone takes me by surprise. His voice is like steel, cutting right through me. The voice of a king.

"I cannot marry someone I have not yet met." My voice falters.

"I know Vasilis has ideas about your future. But…" He squeezes my hand lightly.

"That boy is a mystery to me." He says finally and closes his eyes. I notice his lips tremble.

"What is the matter, father?"

"I wish there is more time." He opens his eyes and looks toward me. Sometimes I think he can see me. His milky grey pupil moves in my direction, I feel his stare, but I know he lives in darkness. I wait for him to continue, but he merely turns towards the garden below and the city beyond.

"Your Majesty," A servant calls from the hall. As if it is his queue to leave, father groans and stands shakily, clutching tightly to his cane. I hold his other hand to steady him.

"A letter has arrived from the..." The man is cut off as my father waves a hand to dismiss him and slowly, he makes his way out of the garden without uttering another word. I sigh quietly as I watch him go. He believes Vasilis to be the mystery, but it is he that I do not understand.

After my father is gone, I open the tome at last and begin to read. I read until my eyes sting and the sun sets. That is all I am allowed to do.

***

My kingdom is beautiful when the sun is low; hues of pinks and oranges streak the sky like bruises. When I look to my left, I see the southern seas on the horizon, distant, blue and deep. To my right; the sand dunes of Laccresh. In the distance, they glimmer in the low light, like mountains made of millions of stars.

I am alone in my chambers, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the night. I imagine that this world is a dream. I listen to the cicadas sing and the fluttering of my curtains as a light breeze passes through. The room is dark but the stars and moon cast shadows throughout my chamber. I see figures in these shadows. They are the faces of the men in my father's council and the ladies of the high court with their narrowing eyes and sly smiles behind a feathered fan. I see Vasilis, his vicious grin and painful strength.

I jump out of bed and storm to my door in a panic, throwing my shoulder against the wood and staring at the lock. I breathe out slowly, but I feel my eyes burn.

Every night is the same. No matter how many times I lock my door, it is never enough to ease my mind. I fall slowly against the wood and hold my head to my knees as I sob silently, nails digging into the skin of my calves. I imagine a world where I am free. Free to walk the streets of the city market, to eat grilled meat skewers from the stalls. To make friends, to taste the bitterness of ale and dance in a tavern where music is plucked from a banjo. I have never heard the sound, but I imagine it to be hypnotic.

I drag myself to bed and lie stiffly across my sheets. I imagine a world where I am not myself and I wish to fall asleep in hopes that when I wake, this palace would burn to ashes, taking me along with it.

I listen again for the cicadas, but they have stopped singing.