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Shattered Throne - Edited > chapter 1 - edited

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message 1: by [deleted user] (last edited Jun 05, 2020 12:02PM) (new)

Read on Wattpad here!

I look into my mirror, its glass kept clean for the vain princess I should be. My face is all angles, my smile doesn’t meet my eyes. My beauty is like winter, its smooth perfection, heartless to the poor, with jagged teeth of ice waiting to crush the life from a weary traveler. My greatest blessing. My greatest curse.
Tonight is the annual Palentia gala, and I dread the moment when I walk in and see the reverential stares of the nobles, who think that I will continue the destruction of my parents. Palentia celebrates the reign of the Stormer dynasty and all that is has ruined.
Our kingdom is cruel, our reign marked by the bloodshed of innocents. But outside the gates, everything is unknown. My parents say that there are only farmers and their families.
I’ve heard rumors, however. Rumors of rebels and dissenters. No one knows for sure, and I doubt that my parents care enough to find out. But I will soon enough. I've convinced my father to send me outside the kingdom's gates. To visit the farmers and evaluate their work. A lie.
I am the heir. And when I inherit the throne, the world will be at my fingertips. I could change our country forever if I wished to do so. And I wish to do so, no matter the cost.
+++
Down the hall, I hear the clicks of metal against marble. My mother. Her favorite shoes are glass stilettos, with pointed daggers as heels. Beautiful, until you have one piercing your heart. How fitting.
She walks into my room, smiling. That's never a good sign. Behind her are two maids, carrying a large grey box.
"I thought you'd like to wear these tonight. I picked out the styles myself," she says, her mouth smiling but her eyes frowning. She has sensed that I'm not too happy about Palentia. I never have been, but she can't know that. No one can. If anyone finds out, I may face doubt about my qualifications as a Queen. That can not happen. Ever.
"Eira, are you all right? I thought you'd like something made especially for this evening."
"I'm just tired," I say quickly. My mother’s eyes linger on me for a moment, before she orders the maids to set the box on my bed.
"Well, you should rest before the Gala then. Tonight is going to be a long night." She turns and stalks through the door. As the maids follow her out, one winks at me. Huh?
After I check to make sure that I’m alone, I open the box. Wrapped in a thin sheet of black paper is the dress. It’s beautiful, a floor length gown of black silk, flowing like an ocean of ink. The neckline is high, and the fabric adorned with pieces of obsidian. It’s something my mother would love, something I should love, but I hate it.
Other than the dress, there are two boxes, and wedged in between, an envelope. One holds my jewelry: necklaces, bracelets, hair pins, all decorated with obsidian, all sharp enough to be a weapon. The other holds my shoes, made of black glass, an obvious homage to my mother’s style.
Every piece of the outfit is stunning, but I despise it all. I hate the dress and this place and everything it stands for. Tyranny and Destruction. Oppression and Cruelty. One day I'm going to let it all burn.
Nevertheless, tonight is crucial. I cannot afford to mess anything up. I have contacted the rebels, and I’m meeting with one at the Gala. I take the envelope, its rough parchment a stark contrast to the silky smooth paper we have at the palace. I break the seal and read.

A woman named Elizabeth will be waiting by the door, dressed in blue. She is the one you are looking for.
Good luck,
Lilliana


That's why she winked. Lilliana. Pretty, I think. Just like her.
I set aside the dress, stowing the note safely in the lit fireplace, and do as my mother suggested. I rest. And I worry.
If I failed, I could, no, would, die. My head would end up on the ground, my name disgraced, all of my plans for nothing. The staff would be massacred, and any chance of freedom would be lost to my parents’ wrath. Everything is at stake. And I've never been a good gambler.
I eventually drift off into an uneasy sleep, my dreams plagued by my fears. I am woken up by my lady’s maid, Anne, whom I normally order to stay away since I’ve gotten involved with the rebellion. Just in case. “Your Highness. Your Highness!” she whispers urgently, shaking me out of my slumber.
“Hmm—what is it?” I say, still groggy.
She drags me out of bed. “Your Highness, it’s five-thirty. You’re going to be late!”
That wakes me up. I swear under my breath, and start getting ready. She helps me into my dress, and we rush through a process that would take hours on a quick day. When we’re done, I take a look in the mirror.
Despite us having only half the time we would normally spend, Anne has made me look as gorgeous as ever. I look perfect. Too perfect.
I look at the clock again, and I am, indeed, late. Anne hurries me out the door, handing me my gloves. “Go! Go, your Highness!”
I almost run to the ballroom, nearly twisting my ankle on my godforsaken heels. When I am just outside, I slow, checking to make sure that everything is still perfect, and go to the doorway. The Master of Ceremonies is there, and he announces me to the room. “Her Imperial Highness, the Crown Princess Eira Stormer of Oriande.”
I walk as gracefully as I can, plastering a pleasant look on my face, and ignoring the stares that come my way. I walk to the line of thrones, where my parents are already seated. I take my seat next to my mother, who is furious. She looks as calm and graceful as ever, but fury is alight in her eyes.
"Where were you?" I can hear the anger in her soft voice, too.
"I…did as you suggested. I rested for a while, and I'm afraid that I may have let time get away from me."
"May have?" She sneers at my words. "You also may have been twenty minutes late to the biggest holiday of the year! Can you imagine our embarrassment that the princess, our heir, has shown up late to a holiday celebrating our glorious dynasty?”
"I'm truly sorry, Mother," I say. And I am. But my mother does not believe that is enough. She opens her mouth to say so, but is interrupted by my father standing up.
The Gala always starts with a speech from my father. He goes on and on about duty, our dynasty, our kingdom. Lies, just like mine. They toast to the future of the Stormers, and the dancing begins.
My mother and father open, and I continue with some Duke or another, until most of the room has joined us. As soon as the song ends, I join my mother. She looks as if she wants to continue chastising me, but seeing her ladies eagerly looking for gossip, thinks better of it.
“Eira, dear. Go thank the lady over there by the door. She is of noble blood, but harbors dressmaking as a passion, and is the one who made your dress. I believe her name is Elizabeth.”
My eyes dart to the woman by the door. She has beautiful red hair and is wearing a dark blue dress, the same style as mine.
“Of course, Mother.”
I waste no time.


message 2: by Juuso (new)

Juuso WOW! WOW!


message 3: by [deleted user] (new)

<3


Amanda Artist Cat (amandawholovesbooks) This is goooood! Lovely start!


message 5: by Simone, editor (new)

Simone (countbywords) | 6 comments Mod
Amanda (Artist Cat) wrote: "This is goooood! Lovely start!"

From the editor - thank you so much <3


message 6: by [deleted user] (new)

Thank you!!


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