"To all the girls who no longer believe in fairy tales or happy endings: You are the writer of this story. Chin up and straighten your crown, you're the queen of this kingdom and only you know how to rule it." - B. Devine

"Queen Claira invited you for tea," Ria announces when she enters my room the next morning.

Upon my return yesterday I fell into a fitful sleep - filled with distorted memories of burning flesh chasing me.

"And you have received three gifts. One is a basket of apples and the other a poem. Knowing how you feel about apples, I took the liberty of taking the basket to the kitchen, and the poem is quite good."

"Who would send me apples?"

"Lord Dareios Picard."

Something clicks in my brain, but I am not aware of it.

"That means that the poem came from De Berchelai."

"Yes. Neither are too extravagant gifts, so you need not send a token of gratitude or schedule an audience, but I warmly thanked them on your behalf."

"Thank you."

Apples and a poem. Two gifts.

"And the third?"

She hands me a white pebble.

I smile: "Aelfraed?"

"Yes, he says that it is the most exquisite gemstone he has ever seen and that it matches your teeth."

I clutch my stomach and rumble. I place the pebble on my dressing table - in my jewellery box.

What should I send him in return?

"Would you be able to reacquire one of the apples?"

She grins. "Of course."

"But take a bite from it first and then tell him that it reminds me of his face."

She smiles: "As you command."

"Will I be meeting Claira for tea in the Queen's Courtyard or the Private Courtyard?"

"In her courtyard."

I make my way to the upper floor via the lesser restricted areas. No guards stop me this time. I pass through the Queen's Waiting Room before being announced as I enter the courtyard. The queen is seated on the grass with two small girls running in circles around her. Their infectious giggle causes me to smile.

"Queen Claira, may the sun rise brightly for you," I say as I make my way to her.

"Aebbé, I am just Claira to you," she says with a beautiful smile. "You don't mind sitting on the grass, do you?"

"Not at all," I say and fold my legs under me.

"Girls, there is someone I would like you to meet."

My nieces approach me. They look so much like Friduric and my father. They have the same wild red hair, but it has been done into adorable locks with golden ribbons.

"Aesce, Aenne, this is your Aunt, princess Aebbé."

The older one is the first to speak: "You are also a princess? We've never met another princess before. Father said we were the only ones who could be princesses."

"Pwetty!" my smaller niece says in awe and tugs at my hair.

"So are you," I tell her with a smile.

Aesce is barely five, and Aenne turned three not too long ago. Claira sent me a portrait after both of their births, but the toddlers in front of me are unrecognizable from the babies in the portraits.

"E-huh-be," Aesce pronounces my name much louder and forcefully than it is.

"Would you tell us a story?" She smiles and I see that she has inherited Claira's dimples.

"Aesce, how do you ask people for things?"

"Please?"

"Of course, little Aesce."

I quickly ravage my brain for a story. I decide to tell them one my father often told me:

"When the world was young

And the stars still had songs to be sung,

Our very deeds helped history to be made

And we believed that none would fade."

Aenne scrambles onto my lap looking at me in awe as I recite the first stanza of the poem of the Book of Origins. When properly recounting the Book of Origins, one should recite the poem on the first page of the book before moving on to a specific tale. I haven't memorized more than the first stanza yet, so I skip to the verse told at the beginning of The Fate of the Innocents:

"Let all who have ears listen

To our soft-spoken whispers

About the death of our sisters

That made our cheeks glisten."

I briefly tell my nieces about The Original Council so that the story makes sense: "A long, long time ago seven stars crashed into the earth. The first star was a man with hair as red as yours," I say as my fingers curl around one of Aenne's locks.

"His name is Wulfric Vulfgern, and he claimed sovereignty over humans. He is the lord of fire.

"The second star was a man with hair as gold as the sun."

Probably something like Lord Caith's hair. I smile. I need to tell him that.

"Khairrim Cadeyrn proved himself to the elves and became their lord and the lord of water.

"The third star was the twin of The Second One, and Zoe Pherenike, with her silver moonlight-hair and ferocity, won the hearts of the skado's, a savage race living in the marshes. She is the lady of dreams and forgotten whispers.

"The fourth star was named Zoticus Folki. His white eyes cannot see, but the perpetual darkness serves him well as he walks in the heart of the mountains with his dwarves. The earth obeys him.

"The fifth star, Himé Gaianne, became the wife of the First One. Plants do her will, and flowers spring from her footprints.

"We do not speak the name of the sixth star, but this is the tale of his betrayal. Before he betrayed his family and darkness twisted those loyal to him, he was the lord of thunder, lightning and fear."

"The seventh star was as pure as light and her hair as white as snow. Aydiss Astarr was the lady of love, life and sorrows. She lived with the Seventh Race of Ligtland - the fairies, the ones we now refer to as The Innocents."

Every Council Member has a chapter devoted to their titles and domains in The Book of Origins, but these are just their most important attributes. Sometimes the demarcation between their qualities isn't clear at all.

"Fairies were the most magical of all the races. Their wings were as delicate as spider webs and as colourful as rainbows. They were always happy and good and ensured the joy of Ligtland. They were smaller than my hands - probably as big as yours."

Aesce and Aenne study their hands.

I continue with the story: "For many years the Family of the Council provided guidance and Ligtland prospered. It was a time of great innovation, growth, and happiness. We now call that time the Golden Age."

"But darkness came and occupied the twisted heart of the Sixth One. He chose whispers of power over loving his family. He chose selfishness over his duty to everyone in Ligtland.

"He could not stand to be in the pure presence of the Seventh One.

"We know not what pushed him into the abyss from where there is no return, but, in a fit of rage, he slaughtered the fairies and their lady."

Aesce and Aenne stare at me in horror.

"After a heavy and long war, Ligtland banished him to a place far across the mountains that we now know as Darkeland. His race of monsters followed him there.

"They still live there in the dark shadows to this day."

Not all stories have happy endings, but history is history.

"That banishment signalled the end of the War."

"That is not a good story," Aesce says with a frown.

"Not all stories are happy, Aesce," her mother answers.

I didn't initially know why I chose to tell them this story, but now I think it might be to offer them - and myself - some hope for the outcome of this war.

I smile: "But this is a good story - because it tells how goodness and light conquered evil and darkness. Do you understand how that is more important?"

Aenne answers instead: "Good beat bad!"

That causes all of us to smile.

After catching up with Claira, I run into a lord I'd rather avoid when I'm on my way out of the castle.

His olive toned skin is healthy and soft. His moustache is trimmed neatly. He is not unattractive, but his dark eyes are sly. You can see him scheming through them. He takes my hand while bowing and brushes his lips against it.

"Princess Aebbé of Ardam, you are even more exquisite than I remember."

"I am sorry but I don't seem to recall your name," I say knowing exactly whom I'm speaking to.

"Count Renard de Berchelai, Count of Berch, lord of New Berch, and close friend to the King and the King's hand."

Lord de Berchelai is the Lord of the province of Berch in the east. The province has at least five very big, wealthy and thriving cities and a lot of other small towns. I've never been to Berch, but I have read and heard that it is blessed with lovely weather. His grandfather and father were also some of my father's greatest supporters in his wars. He rewarded them with the province of Qurke - the land that was Ria's family's. Qurke is now called New Berch, which neighbours Old Berch. I've never liked him, and I still don't. I like the fact that he has set his sights on me even less.

"Lord de Berchelai -," I start saying but am interrupted.

"Please, Renard."

He says the second syllable of his name through his nose, and it sounds as if the sound gets stuck at the back of his throat.

My brother's words reverberate in my memory. I also don't want to be in disfavour with Renard.

A few years ago, a minor lord spread a very believable rumour about a maid pregnant with De Berchelai's child. There was another rumour that De Berchelai had a brief affair with the lord's lady, but nothing was ever proven. De Berchelai denied both rumours and demanded that the lord be punished for tainting the De Berchelai name. After losing half of his property and more than half of his wealth and his lady's favour, the lord committed suicide and thus disgracing his family name even more.

"Renard, it is a pleasure."

There is no way that I'm asking him to just call me Aebbé. It might give him the wrong idea.

"Can I offer my arm to escort you?"

"I am unfortunately in a hurry, Renard. Perhaps another time?"

He smiles graciously: "Most definitely, Princess Aebbé of Ardam."

I give him the most insincere smile of my life. I wonder how he and his lovers keep their affairs from the involved husbands. Sleeping draughts? Another reason to be cautious. I nod my head slightly and go before he gets an opportunity to leech onto me.