Mariella Hunt's Blog, page 45

“I live alone in this…this tomb…I feel dead.”

“You should have seen Samantha Baker’s face when you two were dancing,” Emily said gleefully hours later, as they drove away from the ball. “I think she wanted to cry! Her expensive dress had nothing on yours!”

The Prince did not speak, gazing forlornly out the window. With the commotion in the party, he and Kelsea had not talked like she promised they would. He preferred it this way, anyhow; there was nothing to say to her, nothing that would change her mind.

Emily was driving him back to the forest, where he would walk back to his empty palace with a shattered heart and injured pride. He would continue his life alone as ever, because the Barn Owl hadn’t returned yet.

His life would never change.

Kelsea sat beside him, and she didn’t speak either. She was leaning away from him; her face reflected the same sadness he felt, but he did not understand why, for she was the one who wanted to reject everything he had to offer her.

“Why so quiet, you two?” Emily asked—then yawned. “Oh, maybe you just danced too much.”

The Prince clasped his hands. Yes, they had danced, but not done much else. It had been bittersweet to steal the attention at a ball, dancing with a beautiful lady who did not really want him. He could not send her away, nor did he want to, but had spent the entire night going through the motions and wishing it would end.

A few minutes later they pulled up at the side of the road—the Prince’s stop. Before he could leave, Kelsea grabbed his arm.

She took a deep breath and began, “So, about the dress—”

He stiffened, feeling anger for the first time in many years. “Keep it.”

Emily twisted around in her seat to gape at him, but didn’t say a word.

“What?” gasped Kelsea. “No, I couldn’t keep it!”

“Keep it,” he repeated, pulling away.

“But Caspar,” she began, voice breaking.

The words slipped from his mouth like a torn heart bleeding: “No one else is ever going to wear it.”

He opened the door and slipped out, ignoring when Kelsea called after him. He broke into a run, crashing into the forest and taking the path so familiar to him that he could walk it in the dark. As usual, he walked the path alone.

Because he would always be alone.

The Barn Owl waited up in his bedchamber, perched at the window, yellow eyes glowing in the moonlight. He watched the Prince shrug off his jacket and fling it into the corner with an angry grunt.

“Perhaps you were a bit hasty,” said the owl at last, “in going after the young lady’s heart.”

“Even if I was,” retorted the Prince, “where were you to tell me?”

He kicked off his boots and dropped onto the bed, staring into a shadowy corner but refusing to cry. Instead he allowed the dreadful emptiness to envelop him again, and wondered why he ever risked climbing out of it. Here it was painful, but at least he knew what to expect; at least he wouldn’t get his hopes up, only to be hurt in the end.

“You want to be in love,” continued the Barn Owl, “but you know nothing about it.”

“If you want to see me alone forever, you’re going to be well pleased.”

“No, boy,” said the owl, “that is not what I want. I know it is possible for you to be happy someday.”

“Someday,” croaked the Prince. “But when? I live alone in this…this tomb…I feel dead.” He flung himself onto his back and stared at the beams on the ceiling, a hot, unwanted tear sliding down his face.

Hoping to never see that dress again…hoping to never feel hope.

Hello! I hope you had a fantastic weekend! We have a few more chapters left of The Autumn Prince, and he’s really having a rough time now. If you’ve made it this far with me, I am so glad you like the story; if not, you can find all the chapters on the menu by mousing over Novels and then The Autumn Prince!

If you like my writing, do consider giving my novel a try! Dissonance is available on nook and Kindle, as well as paperback; support an author, get me a cup of coffee, and that way I can write more!

-Mariella Hunt

Filed under: The Autumn Prince Tagged: emily, kelsea, serial, the autumn prince, the barn owl

Turmoil at the Halloween Ball

It was a ball unlike any the Prince had ever attended. However, it wasn’t the first Halloween celebration he’d witnessed; he expected bizarre costumes and morbid decorations. This one outdid the others because of its extravagance.

Lady Samantha’s palace was enormous, nearly outshining the Prince’s own home. Unlike the Autumn Palace, it was perched on the top of a hill for the whole town to see it, not hidden by the trees.

Emily vanished into the crowd not long after they slipped through the entrance. The Prince was not blind to the glances other gentleman gave to Lady Kelsea; her beauty glowed far brighter than the strings of lights hanging from the ceiling.

Something about her was different, though: For the first time since he met her, she looked shy and unsure of what to do.

They stopped in the middle of the dance floor, where light from the chandelier overhead caused Kelsea’s dress to shimmer every shade of red and orange, like the sun shining over a cluster of autumnal trees.

She turned and looked into his eyes; he felt the impact of her beauty take his breath away. “You really are a Prince,” Kelsea said, as if the truth of all she’d seen these past three days had finally dawned on her. “Aren’t you?”

He nodded, taking both her hands in his, and kissed them softly. The world around them slowed; he could no longer hear the music or the voices of other people. He could not even think, letting his heart act on its own, gently caressing her cheek and thinking this moment had enough magic in it to make up for his lost kingdom.

“And you are Princess,” he breathed, watching the flicker of a smile cross her face…but he did not expect to see uncertainty in her smile.

“Yes,” she mumbled, nodding slowly. “At least, for tonight.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Not only tonight,” he insisted. “You always will be. Always!”

“Caspar,” she said, her eyes softening, “I can’t be a princess. I don’t—have never felt like one.”

“You look like one,” he told her. “Ask anyone in the chamber now. You are brave, and strong, like a princess should be. You belong in a palace!”

She touched his arm, sending electricity surging through his veins. “Caspar, you are so honest, but your views are…distorted. I don’t belong in a palace.”

Her words were like a dagger to his heart. He felt his hope begin to crumble once more, reawakening that ache he’d wrestled with for years, the emptiness he thought for a while had finally ceased to haunt him.

Lady Kelsea did not want to stay.

“Please,” she whispered, smiling sadly, “can we talk about this later? I want to have fun with you tonight.”

“Fun,” repeated the Prince. He swallowed and straightened his posture, offering her a trembling hand. “Shall we dance?”

His voice broke as he asked the question, for he couldn’t repress his agony.

Kelsea heaved a sigh. She took his hand and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

“Let’s talk later,” she whispered. “Please.”

He nodded halfheartedly, pulling her into a simple waltz. It surprised him how easily she followed his moves as they danced to music only they could hear, a rhythm completely different from what blasted in the chamber. She even danced like a princess, not missing a step or tripping once.

She looked like a princess and acted like a princess. She had the strength to assume the role, doing the Autumn Court justice.

But she didn’t want to be one.

Things are starting to look bleak. Hopefully Kelsea is just confused…after all, it’s a big title to spring on her!

I put all the chapters on the menu above if you want to catch up and read them! Here’s an awesome screenie I made of it last night before updating!

If you like this story, please tell your friends and share on social media! Thank you for reading these ten chapters and sticking with me for the Prince’s adventure! This wraps up the second week, so come back on Monday for the next chapter!

-Mariella Hunt

Filed under: The Autumn Prince Tagged: emily, halloween, kelsea, serial, the autumn prince, the barn owl

The Magic of the (Possible) Princess

On the day of the ball—which Kelsea insisted he call a Halloween party—she returned to the palace with Emily.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” her companion cried, looking at the marble floors and spiral staircase. “He wasn’t a freak, after all.”

“Don’t call him a freak,” Kelsea snapped. She then turned to the Prince, who was slightly off-guard at having been defended by her.

Emily rounded on him and said hotly, “If you’re a good prince, you’ll stay down here while she gets dressed. Understand?”

Kelsea heaved an apologetic sigh. “I brought Em because that dress is fancy as hell and I am going to need help slipping it on. I hope you don’t mind.”

He shook his head, inching away.

“Emily,” said Kelsea under her breath, “be nice. I’ll show you where it is.”

The Prince watched both of them head upstairs. It felt strange to have them wandering his halls when for years he’d lived alone.

He sat in one of the armchairs and clasped his shaky hands, wondering what had become of the Barn Owl; he hadn’t made an appearance the Prince sent him to speak with Kelsea. For years he had scorned the creature’s presence as nothing but a nuisance, but now he missed his comments and wisdom.

He was lost in this thought when Emily’s voice traveled down the stairs—“We’re ready to go!”

Swallowing hard, he rose—and stiffened. The first thing he saw was Emily, dressed like some sort of demented cat with too much makeup caked onto her face. Behind her, though, waited the Autumn Princess he’d pictured in his dreams.

The color spilled off her in a beautiful cascade, her hair was woven in an elegant knot. She wore the amber pendant he’d given her; it gleamed in the sun spilling through the window like fire rising from her chest. He thought of how the Autumn Court would react if they could see her; they would be floored by her beauty like him, they would bow to her and crown her at once, for she represented all that was good about the most glorious time of the year.

Remembering his manners, he hurried up the stairs to take her hand. Unlike her best friend, she wasn’t wearing makeup, but her cheeks were still pink; their gazes locked, and he wondered if this could be the beginning of forever.

Perhaps it was just one day of magic to break the monotony of his life. He couldn’t bear the thought of having to let her go.

He gently kissed her hand again, watched her take a shallow breath of surprise, and whispered, “Lady Kelsea.”

For the first time she didn’t correct his usage of the title; she seemed unable to speak at all. She lifted the hem of her dress and let him guide her down the stairs.

“Look at you two, being all sappy,” called Emily behind him. “Some of us are dateless, you know.”

Kelsea scoffed, some of her old attitude returning. “Em!” But she smirked and shook her head, then turned to the Prince and smiled. “But it is nice to have a date for once.”

“I guess I’m driving,” Emily said, striding right past them. “Seeing as one of you doesn’t have a license, and the other is wearing six rows of skirts.”

The Prince didn’t want to look away. She was warm and perfect, she was all he ever wanted, but he didn’t know if he could keep her. He tried not to be melancholy; the ball hadn’t even begun.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered instead, for no other words came.

She hesitated, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Before he could say a word, she followed her friend out of the palace, leaving him in shocked silence.

And determined not to lose her, no matter what.

She was perfect, absolutely perfect.

Perhaps love is responsible for everything, after all. And maybe there’ll be a happy ending. All I can tell you now is, this won’t be your regular Halloween party!

Start from the beginning and join the fun!

Also, this may become a series (my Muse is badgering me to write it as a real book.) Stay tuned!

-Mariella Hunt

Filed under: The Autumn Prince Tagged: emily, halloween, kelsea, novella, serial, the autumn prince, writing

Kelsea Holds the Enchanted Ballgown

The stained-glass windows reflected like magic on Kelsea’s face as she peered at the vaulted ceiling. Her breath stiffened as she beheld the Autumn Palace for the first time; perhaps she thought it an elaborate dream she’d wake from any moment.

She traced a hand over the maroon wall, closing her eyes and whispering something he couldn’t make out. Then she swallowed and said, more to herself, “It’s real. The palace is real.”

The Prince held his breath, waiting to answer any questions but also unsure of how.

“Why doesn’t anyone know about this? I don’t understand,” Kelsea whispered. “Why don’t you tell people? You could become a legend…you don’t have to be so alone!”

“This place is hallowed,” he replied sadly. “Many people died here. I trust you will keep it a secret, Lady Kelsea.”

“Why?”

“Because I see your honesty,” he replied, as she turned to him with wide eyes. The palace was beautiful, and he’d become immune to it; however, it made her speechless. For a moment he envied the ability to be in love with where he lived. “And—and you want to be princess, don’t you?”

Kelsea didn’t answer, rubbing her hands together nervously. She looked up at a bronze chandelier resembling twigs, a mysterious glow emanating from within. Everything in the palace had a woodsy feel; her amber eyes, he noted, seemed designed for it. Her auburn hair was warm like a bonfire on a chilly day.

Instead of answering his question, she asked another one. “Where’s the dress?”

“Upstairs. Follow me.”

It was strange to hear a second pair of footsteps following him up the winding stairs. He managed to keep a surprising calm as they made it deeper into the Autumn Palace, though still could not look at Kelsea for her reaction.

She couldn’t run away, not until she’d seen the ball gown. The Prince felt a sudden urge to see her hold it, watch the warm colors shift to complement her hair. The gown was designed for its wearer to look flawless.

But she didn’t need it all that much, he thought, risking a look at her from the corner of his eye.

Kelsea followed him into the chamber where the clothing was stored. She paused at the entrance, giving him time to gather his bearings. It was difficult to think coherently with her around; she made him hope for happier times, a life not lived in such numbing loneliness.

“When everyone died,” he said, voice hoarse, “my nanny and I gathered the relics from our people and stored them in these chambers. That way the weather could not damage them.” He nodded to the golden-hinged trunk in the corner. “Inside is the ball gown. It was woven for the Autumn Princess alone.”

Kelsea nodded, her face pale. “But if there was no Autumn Princess, then why make it?”

He hesitated. What he was about to say could frighten her off for sure, but she deserved the truth. “Lady Kelsea, it is an ancient tradition long dead with our people. This gown was made for the lady who would marry the Autumn Prince.”

The Prince held his breath, waiting for her to break into a run back downstairs and vanish from his life forever. Her face was expressionless for several agonizing seconds; he began rehearsing in his mind dozens of ways he would beg her to stay if all this amounted to too much. He knew he could not face a life with her suddenly gone.

Finally Kelsea nodded, swallowing. She threw her shoulders back and looked him in the eye. “I am going to open the trunk now,” she said—a statement, not a question.

He nodded, disconcerted. A stranger magic was going on than he’d ever felt in his life, going on right in his heart. He took a step back and let Kelsea approach the trunk, her gait confident and her hands steady as she lifted the lid.

The red of the gown shifted as if with a life of its own, as if it were waking up to the sun that shone on it through the window. Unmoved by this supernatural sight, Kelsea reached in and caressed the fabric, eyebrows knit in a solemn frown.

At last she took a deep breath and lifted the gown from the trunk, holding it to the light. The Prince held his breath, picturing her wearing it; her curtain of auburn hair would match the the autumnal red of the fabric. Its golden embroidery gleamed in the sun, its airy skirt spilled like water from her fingers.

He was made breathless by the certainty in her eyes when she whispered, “It’s real.” She paused, hugging the dress to her chest as if scared it would vanish when she let go.

Then she turned to the Prince and whispered, “I would like to wear this.”

What magic could take the breath from the Autumn Prince? Why isn’t Kelsea caught off-guard by the purpose of this gown? Maybe she’s an open-minded dreamer, maybe she’s not sure it is real, and that’s why she keeps repeating that it is. But she feels right at home in the Autumn Palace–for now.

Here, our plot thickens like the blanket of autumn leaves scattered on the ground each October. Thank you, thank you for joining me so far! Here is the first chapter, if you’re a newcomer.

Maybe the Prince will have a happy ending.

If you liked this chapter or the others, share them on social media please! Thank you so much!

-Mariella Hunt

Filed under: The Autumn Prince Tagged: fantasy, kelsea, reading, serial, the autumn prince

The Forest Reveals her Palace + Bonus Artwork of the Barn Owl!

Lady Kelsea’s breathing steadied as they neared the palace. The Prince wondered briefly what his nanny would say if she learned he was bringing outsiders to the hallowed Autumn Court.

Nature had reclaimed much of what was once his kingdom. They passed the occasional shell of a cottage, roofs rotting away to reveal lifeless skeletons. He gazed at them, imagining with a heavy heart what could have been his.

Kelsea took it in with surprise but didn’t say a thing, hugging herself against the cold. Leaves fell on them from above; their footsteps made loud crunching sounds as they trudged through the forest.

The Barn Owl did not show up. He was probably angry with the Prince for yelling at him; the owl would be no comfort tonight.

“These ruins have been here all along?” Kelsea asked, breaking the silence. “I can’t believe nobody saw them. Hunters come here all the time.”

“Like I said,” the Prince replied, glad that she was asking questions instead of disbelieving, “it’s only found if sought by someone who knows it exists. I know it exists—I am the Prince—and so you see it as well.”

“The Prince?” she breathed, turning to look at him again. He couldn’t tell if her words were spoken with awe or mockery. “But where’s the King? Where are all the other people?”

“There is no Autumn King,” he said. “We inherit the throne from something greater than us which deigns to give us our power. As for my subjects…” His voice caught in his throat. “They died in the plague. Everything you see here, it’s all that remains, Lady Kelsea. When mortals stopped believing in the Fae, it created a plague that killed everyone.”

“So there are faeries?”

“At some point there were,” he said sadly, “but in this part of the world, you aren’t going to find one. They perished when I was very young. I came back to inherit a ghost town and an empty palace full of memories.” With that, he nodded for her to look over her shoulder. “If you really want to, you’ll see it—the Autumn Palace.”

Kelsea turned slowly, her eyes focusing. He realized she was more open-minded than he’d feared, because her breathing stopped; no doubt she was seeing the tall trees blend together to become solid walls, creating a palace which glowed the colors of nature. She was seeing the towers sprout into the air with glorious pride, a shadow was stretching to her feet; she would be the first mortal in many years to see the palace grow like it was designed to.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but seemed to think better of it, instead taking a hesitant step to the palace. “It’s like—camouflaged,” she stuttered. “It emerged from the underbrush like a ghost springing from the shadows. Caspar, what is this? How can it be real?”

“It’s real,” said the Prince, still unaccustomed to being addressed as Caspar. “And it’s mine. But it’s empty, and my only company is a talking barn owl.”

“The talking owl,” she said, rounding on him with anger in her eyes. “You sent a talking owl to tell me not to run away? Where’s the logic in that?”

He stiffened. “I had no other way to get to you on time before you gave up and left. I want you to borrow the ball gown, Lady Kelsea. It is made for the Autumn Princess.”

“No pressure or anything,” she mumbled, looking away.

“Come with me inside.”

“It won’t dissolve under my feet?”

The Prince smiled and shook his head. “No, Lady Kelsea, it won’t. If you wish, take my hand; I know it can be overwhelming.”

She hesitated, wiping her palms on her sleeves with her gaze fixed on the palace. It had been years since this place managed to take his breath away, but watching her gaze at it–the emotion dancing in her eyes–he could almost believe in magic again.

For the first time in years, he was breathless.

Finally she nodded and took his hand, her fingers trembling in his. He realized as they made their way to the arched entrance that he was frightened like her.

What if this is it? he thought. What if she’ll be my princess?

Beautiful artwork of the Barn Owl from artist Cindy Aime!

The Autumn Palace is a part of the forest, the crown of a monarch, the shiniest of jewels. It grows from the trees and foliage on the ground. Perhaps the Barn Owl was a bit paranoid in thinking Kelsea could stumble on it herself…but she’s more open-minded than we thought, so who knows?

If you love the Barn Owl as much as I do, here’s a special treat! My friend Cindy made some art of the Barn Owl, which I thought a perfect finishing touch to this revealing post!

As usual, if you missed the first chapter, start from the beginning here. Thank you for reading, and if you liked this chapter, please share it on social media!

-Mariella Hunt

Filed under: Stray Thoughts Tagged: art, drawing, kelsea, reading, serial, the autumn prince, the barn owl

What Power Could Name the Autumn Prince?

The Autumn Prince had spent years wandering this path to the palace alone; in that time it became loaded with sad, painful memories. Now that he walked it with company, the poor young man almost wished she’d leave.

This strange lady frightened him in ways he’d never thought possible.

Kelsea had fixed her eyes on some point straight ahead, and her arms trembled. Whatever the Barn Owl said to her had clearly caught her off-guard.

But she was braver than the Prince, for she was the one who broke the silence. “What are you, Caspar? How do you have a talking owl?”

He held his breath. For the first time, he wished the owl could be here to speak for him—but she deserved to know the truth before she reached the palace.

Kelsea turned to him, her amber eyes wide with—was that anger? Alarm? The Prince could not decide. “Is this some kind of play?” she whispered. “Or a cult? I don’t know how to look at you anymore!” Turning away, she then mumbled, “Maybe Em was right.”

The Prince realized quickly that he was losing her, especially since she was starting to agree with her paranoid friend. “There is much I have to tell you,” he blurted out in a broken voice, “if you want the ball gown. But—Lady Kelsea—”

“You don’t have to call me that!” she insisted. “Drop the act, Caspar. There’s nothing royal about me!”

He swallowed. “But you are different,” the Prince said, remembering when she asked to be his princess. “I don’t understand you, but I feel that—that I should trust you. I want to trust you.” I want to trust someone.

“You don’t understand me?” she repeated in a whisper. “How do you think I feel? It’s like I walked into some ridiculous…medieval movie…”

Lady Kelsea looked down at the pendant he had given her, perhaps trying to draw from it some meaning.

“I don’t interact with people except on Halloween,” he explained, staring at his feet. “Because people react like this. I am not like you, Lady Kelsea. I don’t have a phone. I know little about your community except what I observe when I venture from my palace.”

“Palace,” repeated Kelsea in a whisper. “Caspar, there are no palaces here. I would know, for goodness’ sake! It’s where I grew up. I know every inch of Bennett—”

“No,” he whispered. “You wouldn’t know. The palace is hidden in the heart of the forest. It cannot be found except by one who already knows where it is. I want to show you the palace, and the ballgown, and then I would like to tell you who I am.”

Kelsea gaped at him. She looked so different on her own, without Emily whispering in her ear. She looked like a warrior, especially in the fearless manner with which she heard his speech.

“The fact I’m here with a stranger is insane,” said Kelsea bluntly at last. She paused, her hand closing around the amber pendant.

Something in her eyes softened; he let out an unexpected sigh of relief.

“But I trust you,” she whispered. “Even though you’re strange. I’m going to give you a chance, Caspar—if that’s really your name.”

He hesitated, wondering if he should admit that he didn’t have a name, but she spoke before he could make a decision.

“Show me,” Kelsea said. It sounded like a command; no one had ever spoken to him with such an attitude before. “I want to see this palace.”

He remembered her warrior-like stance moments before. The Prince could not refuse her, even if he wanted to—he brought her this far, and at some point during their stroll, all authority had been passed to her.

Nodding, he whispered, “This way.”

As he listened to her determined footsteps behind him, the Prince realized that as long as she kept calling him Caspar, he did have a name.

Somehow, in her authority, she’d named him.

What power could name the Autumn Prince? I’ll give you one guess.

With this we kick off the second week of The Autumn Prince. He’s warmed up so much to the idea of belonging that he’ll take the name given him; he’s throwing his tradition out the window for the sake of a girl who scares him very much. I wonder, does he want to find a princess, or does he just want to stop being Prince?

If you missed the first week, start at the beginning of our tale by clicking here. In the last five episodes, the lonely Autumn Prince has found a lady who asked to be princess–but I think he misunderstood her context.

If you like my writing and would like to follow the story, subscribe to the blog.

Also, please do share the chapters on social media if you like them; that way more people can join us in the tale. Word of mouth is a storyteller’s best friend, and even one new visitor is a possible reader!

-Mariella Hunt

Filed under: The Autumn Prince Tagged: fantasy, kelsea, literature, novella, reading, serial, the autumn prince

A Barn Owl Yells at Kelsea

The Prince was roused from his fitful sleep by a pair of wings slapping his face.

“Wake up!” said the Barn Owl. “Wake—up! There is an intruder!”

“Intruder?” repeated the Prince drowsily.

No one had ventured into their territory for years, meaning the owl hadn’t been able to do his job as watchman. There was no one left to protect, nothing to protect them from. It was no wonder he saw this opportunity and went about it with vigor.

“Someone has parked a red car at the end of the road,” said the Barn Owl. “They’re waiting on the outskirts of the forest! They need only wander in and they could easily find the palace!”

The Prince sat up, his heart racing. “Lady Kelsea,” he breathed. “I did not think she would come!”

“Who the blazes is Lady Kelsea?” the Barn Owl demanded, watching the Prince scramble into his day clothes and snatch his coat from the ground.

“It’s no business of yours,” he snapped, knowing well that explaining it would trigger another lecture.

“I’m keeping watch, it bloody well is my business!”

The Prince shook his head. “Tell Lady Kelsea not to go anywhere!”

The owl’s yellow eyes widened with shock. “You want me to speak to a commoner?” he cried. “It will end in disaster!”

“Whatever it takes, I cannot have her walk away! I made a promise. Tell her to wait, and I’ll follow you shortly.”

“How could you make a promise to a commoner?”

Something inside of him snapped for the first time in years, and he found he could no longer handle the Barn Owl’s selfish reprimands. “Just go!” he shouted. “Tell her Caspar is coming!”

Bound by duty, the owl gave an angry screech as he vanished out the window.

Hesitating, the Prince crossed the hall to a room where the jewels were stored. He didn’t know how to find a princess, much less keep her around—but the tales his nanny told him implied that jewelry always helped.

The Prince opened a box, selecting an amber pendant that reminded him of Lady Kelsea’s hair. It hung daintily from a fine silver chain. He put it in his pocket and took a breath, then turned on his heel and ran.

He bolted down the spiral stairs two steps at a time, hoping the owl had reached Lady Kelsea before she could leave.

The Prince crashed through the forest, his feet pounding on damp autumn dirt, retracing a path familiar to him. He knew it by heart after all his ventures into town. This time he followed it with a different purpose, not stopping until he found the red car mentioned by the Barn Owl.

Beside it paced a flustered Kelsea, her hair tied back in a messy knot. Hearing him approach, she whirled around to face him.

“An owl just yelled at me to stay put,” she cried, advancing several steps towards him. “What the hell—”

The Prince dug the amber pendant from his pocket and held it out, gasping for breath. “I—I’m sorry—for the delay,” he panted, “Lady Kelsea…”

Her eyes were fixed on the jewel now, alarm mixed with confusion. “What’s going on, Caspar?”

“I’m late,” he lamented, “but the ballgown is in the palace and I am eager to show it to you. Forgive my tardiness.”

“Caspar, what are you?”

He swallowed hard, not sure how to answer the question. “Will you just come with me,” he asked at last, “please?”

He now saw that Kelsea was trembling, though from anger or fear he could not tell. Perhaps sending her a talking owl had not been the most prudent choice, but what other option did he have?

Finally she nodded, swallowing hard, balling her fists. “Show me,” Kelsea said, her voice trembling. “Show me the dress…and the palace.”

Does she believe him? I think it’s hard to doubt a peculiar fellow’s story when a barn owl is yelling at your face. The question now is whether Kelsea will keep him around or run away.

What would you do in her position?

Here we conclude the first week! Thank you for reading the first week of The Autumn Prince; it has been an honor to share it with you so far, and especially know you’ve enjoyed it! Come back Monday to see Kelsea’s reaction. Maybe the Prince has found his princess after all!

Here are the links to the other chapters, in case you’ve missed out! Also, follow my blog if you’ve enjoyed the story so far–it’s going to be updated every weekday this month!

A Lonely Prince and a Wise Barn Owl

The Prince Lies to Some Maidens

A Lie, a Ballgown, and a Proposal

Does Kelsea Want to be his Princess?

Filed under: The Autumn Prince Tagged: Autumn, books, kelsea, reading, serial, the autumn prince, the barn owl

Does Kelsea Want to be his Princess?

For several heartbeats, Kelsea’s exclamation echoed in his mind.

We can go as prince and princess!

The Prince felt something inside of him flutter with unease and confusion. All these years he’d longed for a companion—and now, completely out of the blue, Lady Kelsea was offering to fill in that spot. She wanted to be princess!

“Of course,” said the Prince, his voice tight. “Of course I will attend the ball with you.”

He ignored his conscience, which sounded irritatingly like the Barn Owl, whispering in his mind that it was too good to be true.

“Fantastic. What’s your phone number?” asked Kelsea.

He made a pained noise. How to explain that he did not have a phone?

“I would prefer if you came to the palace and saw the gown there,” he blurted out. “You see, it’s old…I don’t like exposing it to the weather.”

“Oh.” Kelsea smiled. “I won’t go trick-or-treating, then. What’s your address?”

“Kelsea,” Emily hissed, “are you insane?”

“I’ll drive up tomorrow and have a look,” Kelsea said, ignoring her. “Just tell me where to go.”

“It’s difficult to find the palace on your own,” said the Prince. “I’ll wait for you up this street and guide you.”

“Excellent. Thanks, Caspar. You’re a lifesaver.”

She offered a hand, which he took and gallantly pressed to his lips.

The color drained from Emily’s face; Kelsea dissolved into a fit of giggles at his look of confusion. “All I needed was a handshake,” she explained, blushing, “but that works, too. See you tomorrow.”

The Prince opened his mouth to say farewell, but Emily grabbed her friend’s hand and pulled her up the sidewalk. He listened to her ramble on about how strangers shouldn’t be trusted, but hadn’t the mind to eavesdrop more.

Kelsea wanted to be his princess. This wasn’t the sensation he’d expected—instead of joyful and accepted, he only felt bargained with.

But what did he know of life?

Later in the palace, he wandered into a chamber full of dresses the court had left behind. In the far corner was a wooden trunk with fine carvings on the lid; he opened it and waved away dust, lifting out the gown.

Time hadn’t changed the rich hues of red, orange, and brown; the skirts shimmered, light and fluid as water. It was designed to attract attention: Everyone was to recognize the Autumn Princess by how she let the music carry her, not missing a step, putting the other dancers to shame.

No one ever told him what to do when he met his Autumn Princess. Should he pamper her with jewels and flowers? Ought he let her live in the castle at once?

He let the gown fall into the trunk with a sad sigh. It was clear that he didn’t know how to fall in love, how to be in love, how to know if someone loved him. His nanny died when he was a boy, before she could explain how the world worked outside these palace walls.

All he knew was that Lady Kelsea requested to be his princess at a ball. Halloween was not for two days, which left him time to work out how to handle this strange turn of events.

The Prince had two days to figure out how to fall in love while completely, miserably alone.

He almost wished he didn’t have the gown and jewels to offer her. Life at the empty Autumn Court was not entertaining at all, not since the faeries’ laughter faded from the air. Not since witches stopped brewing their healing potions, or centaurs stopped their star-gazing.

Shutting the trunk, the Prince wished a centaur could give him advice now—any form of guidance. He had no one in the world to go to, except an owl who wouldn’t understand anyway.

He only hoped that next time he saw Lady Kelsea, she hadn’t changed her mind. The Prince couldn’t bear to have this spark of hope extinguish, the one thing he’d wanted all his life.

As you can see, loneliness and isolation have made the Autumn Prince very naive. He feels hope because of something Kelsea said, but instead of bringing him relief, this hope has caused him suffering. Will he get a happy ending?

Start our tale from the beginning here, and if you like what you’re reading so far, subscribe to the blog–there’ll be more updates all month!

Thank you for joining me on the Prince’s journey these last four days; we’ll see if his is a happily ever after!

-Mariella

Filed under: The Autumn Prince Tagged: emily, fantasy, kelsea, reading, serial, the autumn prince, the barn owl, the fae, writing

A Lie, a Ballgown, and a Proposal

He worked in theater.

Those four words, shamefully uttered, fell to the ground at the Autumn Prince’s feet. He should have boasted of the blood that ran through his veins, blood of autumnal gold. He should have shouted to the heavens that he once ruled over a vibrant kingdom of Fae.

Instead he put on the mask of an actor, waving away his peoples’ memory for the sake of conversation.

“Oh! I suppose that makes sense.” The maiden who’d asked for his heritage paused, oblivious to his turmoil. She hesitated before inquiring, “You don’t happen to have other costumes I can rent? I promise to get it back without a stain.”

“Erm,” he began uncertainly, then paused.

Yes, there was another ’costume’ he could let her borrow. At the palace was a chamber full of gowns no one ever used.

There was one in particular the Prince was certain would outshine the most costly frock; made from the colors of autumn foliage, it was the gown of the Autumn Princess–if he ever was to find one.

“There is,” he said hoarsely.

Her eyes widened, gleaming with excitement. “Name your price and I’ll make payments. I’ll work overtime to look like something out of a faery tale for one night!”

The Prince allowed himself a good look at the maiden. Her skin was the color of porcelain; auburn hair cascaded down her back. Her cheeks had a subtle rosy hue, so it seemed like the sun was caressing her.

He thought discreetly that she didn’t need much to look like a faery tale.

“Might I ask for your name?” He didn’t like to call her nameless.

“Of course!” She laughed in apology; her eyes, the color of dark amber, gleamed in the sun. “I’m Kelsea.”

“Lady Kelsea,” he said, liking how her name formed in his mouth, “I do have a ballgown I reckon would fit you.”

“A gown?” Kelsea breathed. “A legit gown from—I don’t know—Romeo and Juliet?”

“Erm, no, the gown is in one of the palace chambers.”

“Who even says chamber anymore?” Emily asked, crossing her arms.

“Oh, hush,” said Kelsea, nudging her companion. “Let him roleplay. Halloween is once a year.” She then turned to the Prince and inquired, “What about you? What’s your name?”

He’d never been given a name, as it was custom to address royalty by their title alone; however, he blurted out the first that came to his mind. “Caspar.”

“Caspar,” Kelsea began, “I’d be so grateful if you let me borrow that gown. I want to go to the party looking my best—and if the quality’s anything like what you’re wearing, I’ll even outdress Samantha!”

“The quality is very fine,” said the Prince. “It was made by the best seamstress in the kingdom, colored with the finest dye and embroidered with expert hands.”

Both ladies gaped at him, hearing this description. A stray wind blew past, filling the silence that settled between them.

“Right,” Emily huffed. “But you forgot to tell us what color it is.”

“The gown is vivid crimson.”

“Who says crimson?”

“Shh,” Kelsea snapped. She turned once more to the Prince and asked, “By vivid, do you mean bright?”

“It changes tones depending on the light,” replied the Prince, deciding it was easier to look at her than her skeptical companion.

Kelsea exchanged a look with Emily, who scowled but kept silent. “I’d sell my soul to wear something like that for one night. How much are you charging to rent it?”

The Prince frowned. He had no need for money, but there was one thing which had caught his interest since he heard their conversation. “You needn’t give me gold or silver, but I would like to attend the ball hosted by Lady Samantha. I do not know where her palace is.”

Kelsea shrugged. “I can bring you to the party. But what if you came as my partner?” she added, eyes flashing with excitement again.

“Of course I could—”

Then she blurted out with girlish glee, “We could go as Prince and Princess!”

Does Kelsea know what she’s getting into, volunteering to be a princess? One thing’s for sure–the nameless Prince has denied his heritage, now calling himself Caspar, and he’s gotten himself into a party.

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Filed under: The Autumn Prince Tagged: Autumn, emily, kelsea, reading, the autumn prince

The Prince Lies to Some Maidens

For years the forest behind Bennett, Pennsylvania went uninhabited. So remote was this corner of nature that the Fae chose it for their kingdom, building a palace of living wood; their community thrived in harmonious joy.

That was before the plague.

The Prince remembered tales his nanny told him before the plague took everything. These were stories full of hope and happy endings.

He remembered the first time the plague killed a faery. Having no resistance to the illness of disbelief, they vanished like clouds dissolved in the sky. It had been the beginning of the end for his kingdom; his nanny hid him in the forest, and when they came back, the Autumn Court had become a ghost town.

If only, he lamented, continuing his stroll into town, if only I could have a real ghost to speak with. All he had was that judgmental barn owl.

For a few seasons he lived alone, with only the owl keeping him company. Soon after the demise of the Autumn Court, a few wandering humans discovered the beautiful forest. Almost in the blink of an eye, houses were being built–what would soon become the town of Bennett.

After that his outlook had never been the same. He refused to waste time waiting for Halloween’s once-a-year appearance. Why was he doomed to walk among the humans only once a year? What good did his title do if he lived as a prisoner?

This rebellion damaged his relationship with the Barn Owl. Once his closest friend, now the Barn Owl scolded him any chance he could.

The Prince didn’t consider it a mistake to dream of having friends, of leaving his trap, the Autumn Palace. Sometimes he harbored that hope; other times, he wished the plague could have taken him too.

Since autumn came by every year, humans believed in it; that was why he survived to inherit a life of loneliness. When his nanny died, he had nobody left but an owl, giving him plenty of room to come up with a dream.

The Prince kicked up leaves on the sidewalk, whispering to himself that this year it would change.

Throughout October, people put out decorations—pumpkins, spiderwebs, tombstones. He counted the pumpkins on doorsteps he passed, waiting for the big night with anticipation, only to have his thoughts interrupted by two maidens talking behind him.

The Prince thought he’d learned which paths to take when he wanted to avoid people; clearly, these two were unafraid to venture into a desolate part of town.

“Samantha is planning this huge Halloween party,” said one of them. “But—surprise!—I’m not invited.”

The Prince wondered if he should quicken his pace or stop and hope they would overlook him.

“Maybe she hasn’t sent invites yet,” offered her companion skeptically.

“Emily, you know better. I’m the last person Samantha Baker would let into her house.”

They were getting closer now. The Prince decided to continue nonchalantly in his set direction, even with a racing heart; he hadn’t prepared himself for interaction today.

“You know,” said Emily, “we could crash her party. If we have the best costumes, she wouldn’t be able to throw us out without embarrassing herself.”

“I doubt I’ll ever outdo her in a costume. Not like that guy, anyway. Hey, you know Halloween isn’t till Saturday?”

It took the Prince a nervous moment to realize she was talking to him. He stiffened, waiting to wake up alone in his tower bedroom. It did not happen; he decided to seize the chance, turning slowly to reply.

“I am aware of that.”

The girl whose name he did not know stared, her eyebrows knit together in a frown, as if the mere sight of him gave her an idea.

“Are you roleplaying?” asked Emily.

Before he could ask what roleplaying was, the nameless girl asked, “Where in Bennett do you go to buy such a fantastic costume?”

“It was passed on to me,” he said proudly.

“A hand-me-down?”

“Well, it is historically accurate,” Emily chimed in. “We’re studying Shakespeare in class.”

“Was your great great grandpa royal or something?” the nameless girl demanded.

“Erm…”

He hesitated. The last time he admitted to being Prince had ended somewhat awkwardly. People never believed him, instead walking away as if he’d lost his mind. It made him afraid to boast of his title, something else of which the Barn Owl disapproved.

If only he knew what it was like.

The Prince gave up, deciding to utter five words which would disappoint the Barn Owl terribly—thank heavens he wasn’t around. Never before had he denied his heritage, but today—for the sake of conversation—he did not care.

“No,” the Prince said, in a tight, hoarse voice. “He worked in a theater.”

For the sake of friends, our Autumn Prince has denied his heritage–and it’s about to open a can of worms. If you enjoyed this reading, come back tomorrow for more; if you missed the first part, click here to start our tale from the beginning!

Don’t forget to subscribe to my blog for more updates this month! Also, I do have a book out; support an author, buy an eBook!

-Mariella Hunt

Filed under: The Autumn Prince Tagged: Autumn, emily, faeries, fantasy, kelsea, reading, serial, the autumn prince, the barn owl