There was a time when kings and queens ruled distant lands, when knights fought for love and glory, and magic prevailed throughout it all. Good magic and their bearers gave guidance to lost heroes, bad magic and its bearers created obstacles to try and trap people. Magic was in everything, and many creatures were endowed with it when born. Humans did not have as much magic, but there was some that ran through the veins of pure humans. Magic was forgotten and the trace of it in humans diminished and was rarely discovered because no one looked for it after awhile.

It was in this time that the legend of the White Diamond was whispered of. No one knows how it was started, but it remained a legend carried on even in human traditions, though many did not believe in magic anymore. Legend had it that  a rare and now extinct creature called a phoenix had given a magical, powerful artifact to a human. They called it the White Diamond, for it was a crystal clear diamond, without impurity and without a mark. The human became a king with his power and was a wise and just king. He used this artifact for good and the human race prospered for many years under his rule. 

But then evil got a hold of it. The White Diamond was tainted by its touch and was used for it’s bad purposes. Men misused it, their greed for power overwhelming them until blood was spilled. Wars were started and men fought like no other, destroying other humans and along with them, anything else that got in their way. Creatures like the phoenix were caught in the aftermath of these wars and many were killed by man’s own hands.

The artifact disappeared during these frightful times and has been lost for hundreds of years. Some say that it will return when a virgin makes it pure once more, destroying the evil that hides within it. Though some believe the evil inside would only destroy its bearer and that the White Diamond does not have the power it used to because it lay dormant for so many years, but still, people hope for peace in the onslaught of wars and chaos that have always run free among the human race.

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Christiana Emory jumped up at the sound her dad’s booming voice as he came through the door of their home. “I’m back!” She ran over to him, straight into his outstretched arms. “Daddy, you’re home!” He smiled and grasped her hands, twirling her around the room until she begged him to stop, giggling breathlessly, mouth open in a continual grin. He set her down and then turned to embrace Adela, his wife, who stood nearby, unable to stop smiling as well, happy to see her husband.  Christopher was a big man, burly and strong after hiking and doing hard work. His hair was graying, but to Christiana and Adele he would always be the energetic young man she knew him as. He enveloped his wife’s tiny frame, her brown eyes shining with love.  Christiana was delighted that all three of them were together again. She couldn’t wait to show daddy what she’d made for him out of odds and ends she’d found in the forest and around town. 

At the dinner table, her parents discussed adult things while she played with her peas. Her father sat and ate hungrily, spooning some of her mother’s delicious stew into his mouth and trying to speak at the same time. He cleared his throat, wiping his mouth on a napkin and said, “Business went fairly well. We didn’t encounter any bandits if that’s what you’re asking. Sales have been down though, it was more difficult to sell, but I still made enough for us to live off of for this month at least. The queen is getting restless, it is said, for her son to look for prospects in marriage.” Her mother and father exchanged grim looks, but Christiana couldn’t tell why and soon their chatter was light again. She listened intently as her father told stories of them traveling across the mountains. She always loved it when he came back, bearing presents and new exciting things. Every few months her father would cross the mountains to trade with the big city of Chevall, where he could get good deals for his crops and sell some of the pottery her mother made occasionally. 

“Oh, Christiana! I just remembered I got something for you.” His eyes twinkled as she scrambled into his lap. He held something behind his back and laughed as she eagerly tried to reach the gift. Finally he surrendered it to her clutching fingers. She gasped, enchanted by the ring he had given her. It was a beautiful ring with a gem the color of a midnight sky embedded in the center of the twisting design of the ring. The gem, she guessed, was fake, but she didn’t care. She absolutely loved it. Her mother helped her adjust it so it would fit on her small fingers, and she watched its colors dance across the room in the small light of the fireplace.

Christiana always wore that ring from that day, and she would polish the band every few months, as it would start to become dull with use since she always had it on. The gem was always bright and cheery with its colors shimmering when she moved. As the years went on and Christiana grew older, she continued to wear the ring, adjusting it as she went.

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Fifteen year old Christiana ducked as an arm shot out. She avoided a blow that, if done forcefully enough, could make a person break a limb. She was practicing with the blacksmith’s son, Peter. Tall and gangly, his energy seemed too much for his awkward limbs, that grew at a different rate then the rest of his body. Still, he was fast and had been taught the basics of different defense and attack moves. Most boys learned these at young ages, for they had to learn how to defend themselves against bandits and others who could cause them or loved ones harm. 

Now Peter was teaching Christiana, who had begged him to teach her. “Girls have just as much need, maybe even more, to learn how to defend themselves,” she’d told him years ago, her dark brown eyes flashing. At first he had refused, thinking her a crazy little girl but she kept insisting and at last he had conceded, and their friendship had begun that very day. They met as often as they could once they finished their daily chores and tasks. 

Christiana twisted away as Peter jabbed viciously towards her throat, but was soon laying on the grass with him looking down at her. He had feinted, pretending to go for her throat, and she had not seen his leg shift forward to trip her shifting form over his bent knee. She sighed, holding up her hands in surrender. “Ugh, lets take a break. I am so tired of losing!” She pretended to groan in agony and flopped on the grass. “I’m still not very good at all of that.” Peter just grinned at her and sat down next to her, taking a big gulp of water. “You’re the one who wanted to learn. You just didn’t tell me it’d be like trying to teach a monkey how to dance.” Christiana hit him on the shoulder, rolling her eyes. “You are so mean. I’m trying, really. I can’t help it I’m clumsy and all that. And I’m not that bad!” 

Peter wiped perspiration off his brow and ran a hand through his brown hair. “You’re right, you are definitely getting better, although...” He paused, eyes mischievous, “No one could ever be better than me!” He jumped up and stuck out his chest, striding around importantly, exaggerating the movements until he almost looked like a rooster, clucking and strutting around. Christiana laughed, almost choking on her water at his silliness.

He sat back down and they talked about the latest news and laughed at the silly girls who sat at home, daydreaming about the prince who lived in Chevall. The girls would sit around, talking only about him, how rich he was, how handsome he was, how amazing he was. Christiana always wanted to retort that they hadn’t even met him, but if she did she was sure to get angry glares from the infatuated girls.

Peter was soon excitedly telling her a story about how the other local boys and him had gone hunting one day, but Christiana kept getting distracted. She realized she loved the way his tousled brown hair swept in his eyes in the breeze. To her, he would rival the prince, whoever that was. She stared at him. His light brown hair was tinged with blond that almost looked like gold, shining in the sun. He had wonderful eyes that were mesmerizing. A deep amber color, with flecks of dark brown and gold like his hair. They were serious eyes that seemed to see more deeply than the shallow world they lived in. His eyes held many secrets, but at the same time were open and trusting. 

He had a tanned complexion, showing how much time he spent outdoors. His skin was smooth and dark, his build rugged and sure. She traced the contours of his face with her eyes. He had a strong jawline, high cheekbones, and shadowed, strong facial features. He was strong, having always worked with his father, lifting heavy objects and hammering things in the heat of the forge fire. He was very strong, but his body was lean and thin. When had her gangly, too tall for his body, best friend turn into this man? This tall and handsome man who walked with a silent grace, as swift and silent as the animals he loved to stalk in the forest.

Her heart beat faster when he looked at her. Then she stared blankly as she realized he’d been staring at her for a few silent seconds. “Did you hear me?” Peter asked, confused at her blank expression. “I asked if you knew when your father would be coming back? He was going to get a new bellows and a few new tools for my father.” “Oh, sorry Peter, I was totally spaced out there. Anyways, I think he’s coming back tonight or tomorrow.” 

Christiana tried to keep herself focused and pay attention to what he was saying. She tried hard to think clearly as a rush of emotions swept over her. She was baffled at these feelings. This was the kind of stuff the lovesick girls in the village talked about. They would talk of how their hearts would beat faster at the mention of the prince, how they wished they could meet him so they could stare into his gorgeous eyes. She noticed for the first time how pretty Peter’s eyes were. 

She shook her head, trying to shake off that thought in horror. She could NOT be falling in love with Peter. Ugh, this was probably what her mother called hormones, she thought, annoyed with herself. Peter was speaking again and she realized she hadn’t listened to a word. “What’d you say?” “I asked if you would be help cook for my sisters wedding if she got married.” He grinned and rolled his eyes. “She’s been going on and on about marriage lately.” Christiana grinned too. It was well known that Peter’s sister Rebecca was madly in love with Thom, the carpenter’s son, and he was just as madly in love with her. “They’re only two years older then us, they’re really looking far ahead!” Peter suddenly had a funny look in his eyes. “Yeah, but this age is pretty common for marrying.” She didn’t like where this was going, but at the same time, her heart soared, to her great chastisement. Does he like me?! she thought desperately. 

Suddenly she felt like he was sitting very close to her. She could hear him breathing and their eyes were locked together until she felt like she’d melt, she’d never be able to move again. She lurched to her feet hurriedly, her face beet red. “Ah, I should--” she tried to speak as she stood up, but fell down as Peter had jumped up at the same time, and they knocked their heads together. They collapsed on the grass, laughing at their clumsiness and rubbing their sore foreheads. 

Christiana saw something at the corner of her eye and jumped up. Down below on the trail through the mountains, a series of carts and horses came into view. “Father’s back!” She saw her mother running out of the house and she started to run down the hill. Her face was still flushed, her thoughts all in a jumble in excitement and joy that her father was home, and still caught up in that strange moment with Peter who ran beside her. As she saw her father though, all thoughts of her awkward encounter with Peter had vanished. “Father!” She ran towards him and he turned towards her, smiling. The next few minutes went by in a blur, he held her close and made small talk with Peter, who then helped him unload his cart filled with things from the city. 

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The next few days went by in a blur. Something had changed in her friendship with Peter after that day on the hill. They were more than friends now. She enjoyed his company and was happy to have her father home again and her family whole. It was getting to be fall, Peter had noticed, as the leaves on the trees began to take on hues of brilliant scarlet and orange. The sun lingered over the horizon and the shadows grew long. The pale pinks and purples of the sunset played with the shadows, sending golden waves of sunlight through the darkening town. It was still warm, and Peter hoped that winter would hold off a while. Soon enough the cold would begin to whisper, and then snow would cover the bare trees.

Christiana and Peter were walking home one fall afternoon, happy and content just to be together. Suddenly Christiana thought she heard horse beats pounding down the trail and looked ahead quizzically. “Did some traders stay behind and only just get back or something?” Peter looked just as confused as her and shrugged, “Dunno, guess we’ll find out when we get back.” They picked up their pace, interested in seeing who the riders were.

Christiana saw some men on horses talking to her father and hurried over. “Well, its not anyone from this village,” she noted. “They don’t look like they’re just visiting either. Maybe they want something? They must be pretty important, just look at their rich clothes and their fancy horses.” Peter looked at them curiously. The men were arguing with her father but they stopped when the two came up to them. 

“Father, are you all right?” She laid a concerned hand on her father who looked angry, and then turned to the visitors. “Welcome to Tatira. May I offer you refreshments or something to eat?” It was courtesy to offer such things to guests. Her mother was just coming out with mugs of cool well water and Christiana took them and handed them to the men. She counted and saw that there were about ten men in all, a fierce looking force. Then she gasped, and Peter looked incredulous as he saw it too. The men all bore the crest of the king. “Christiana, these guys are probably soldiers or ambassadors for the king!” Her father nodded grimly. Christiana stared openly at the men, not caring if it was impolite, which it couldn’t be since they were staring straight back at her just as openly.

Her father stood taller, his face looking to have aged many years within a day. “They have come to take you, along with the other maiden’s in our village.  Apparently there is a need for servants. Every four years I’ve heard that they take maidens to serve in the king’s service. From one town they will take around ten to twelve young girls to serve in the castle for two years. Sometimes men too. Right now they need maidservants for the princess Aria. Our village is the closest and with lots of young maidens.” Peter looked outraged at the thought of these strangers taking Christiana and the other girls. He burst out, “They can’t just take whoever they want!” Christiana looked equally shocked. “Why us? We are just poor country girls. Most of us have never even been to Chevall. Are you okay father? You look ill.” Her father sighed, and looked at the ground. She had never seen him so uncomfortable. 

“Well, the queen also wants her son to marry. And her prince could marry a commoner of course, but she wants him to marry a noble. And, well, we, and you, are nobles and so you’d probably be called to Chevall eventually anyways.” Christiana shook her head at the absurdity. Her father, a noble? “Wh-what?” Her voice shook as she realized he was looking at her very seriously. “We are nobles? But you are a simple trader.” Her father dug in his pocket and pulled out a ring. He handed it to her. She looked at it, surprised, for it was made of gold and silver, a precious scarcity around here. She never knew he had something like this. 

Seeing a crest on it, she asked her father what it was. “This is our family’s crest. My father, your grandfather, was a knight in the service of the king. He was given a coat of arms in return for his valuable service.” He pointed to where a boar was engraved in one of the squares. “This is the symbol of courage and strength. You’re grandfather was a strong and brave man. He saved the king’s life once.” He murmured this sentence, pausing, as though lost in thought with memories of the past. 

Then he looked at her again and said, “I ran away and married your mother, who was a commoner. I was disowned from my noble family for doing that. But I only just found out that my brother, my only living relative, passed away and I had kept in touch with him. For he loved me much as a brother and I him, and in his will he restored my title, willing everything to me before he died. Now the queen has sent out a search of noble girls for her son, it is the fourth year in the reign of King Geoffrey and since you are both a noble’s daughter and a girl from this village of Tatira, you must go.” 

The men ate dinner with them that night, while Christiana sat in shock, unable to fathom what had happened. She could barely eat, and wondered what Peter thought. He had had to go home, and his face had been tense and unhappy. Her father did not seem happy either, but forced a cheery voice as he entertained the guests, pouring them the expensive wine they kept for reserved occasions.

One of the men who looked to be in charge, cleared his throat at the end of the meal, politely thanking them for their hospitality. “We will return in the morning for your daughter and the other girls. I know most of the village is not happy to have their daughters taken from them but as the decree has been set, this is the fourth year and this is the town that was picked at random. She will be allowed to return after two years in service and then she can choose to continue in the king’s service or go home. We will of course pay you well for her services, and she will continue to get wages throughout the two years.”

Christiana jerked up when he said how long she’d have to be there. She wouldn’t be able to see her family for two whole years? The leader reached into his cloak and brought out a bulging purse of gold coins. He counted out a small pile and pushed it towards her father. Christiana had never seen so much gold in one pile before! “The rest will be divvied up among the other families with maidens going.”

Her father would not look at the gold that gleamed on the table as the men left, their boots clanking as they went away for the night. He groaned, his face in his hands. Her mother had tear filled eyes as she sat next to him. Christiana felt her own heart sinking inside of her. “We won’t let them take you! They’re here to steal my daughter to serve some spoiled princess! It will be hard work, but you will eat well and you can return in two years,” he said tiredly, “So you need not fear of being forced to stay there forever. But I do not want to lose you, especially to a servants job for a princess who will work you until you die or she loses interest in having you play puppet.” He spat this out angrily, his voice cracking in his anger and sorrow.

Her mother burst into tears and Christiana could barely contain her own tears. How could she just leave her family? And Peter? But then she looked at the pile of gold. Her father was getting old, his graying hair spotted with white. How many more trips across the treacherous, bandit filled mountains could he make? If she continued to get wages, she could send them to them and they could live well off. She made a decision then and there. 

“Father. I am going.” He looked at her, his eyes darting towards her determined ones. “You don’t know what you are saying!” He cried out. “Yes, I do. You will have money so you don’t have to keep going over the mountains. I will write to you, send you my wages. In any case, I don’t think the king’s men would say no. I must go with them, at least let us make this a hopeful parting, one not filled with sadness and anger, but hope and promise.” 

Her mother dried her tears and nodded. “You are wise, my daughter. We must not wallow in our sorrow, but prepare you for the morning.” She got up and began to grab food and bundle them up in cloth. “You will need food, the mountain passes are long and it will be at least four or five days of traveling you will have to go through.” Her father just sat at their wooden table, looking defeated. “If only I had never been a noble...” he murmured hopelessly. Christiana walked over to her father and placed a hand on his arm. “It would not matter if you were not a noble. You will always be noble to me, as my father. Besides, they are taking the other maidens in the village who are not nobles. We are to be servants, not marriage prospects.”

Her father would not be moved, and he sat there all night, his eyes heavy and mournful. He fingered the ring with his family’s crest on it. His thumb rubbing the old ridges that were smooth with its age and wear and tear. He nodded off and woke when his wife nudged him. “Come, the men are here. We must get Christiana, the other girls are already gathered.” Christiana woke up, groggily, unable to understand why her mother was hurrying her to get dressed. Then it all came back to her and she sighed, her heart heavy in her chest. She mechanically put on clothes, as her mother gave her a pack with clothes and food in it. 

She hugged her mother, blinking back tears. Her father gruffly said, “I love you,” and she could barely whisper back, “I love you too.” He hugged her fiercely, and she felt comfort in his warmth. She walked outside, ready to brave whatever destiny had in store, and then she saw Peter. She almost burst into tears again and stood still when he came close to her. His eyes were full of dark sadness. “You don’t have to leave. We’d stop them, we would.” She shook her head, unable to speak, her throat choked up. “No,” she whispered, “I will go. I will come back, I promise. And then everything will be okay.” 

He hugged her, a quick, brief hug that brought color to her cheeks. He hesitated, her still in his arms, and then he kissed her quickly, before he could change his mind. She looked at him, shock and surprise in her face. She smiled at him, a small, sad smile and turned away. “I love you, and I’ll wait for you,” he called, his face red and flushed. “I love you too,” she replied, her lips burning where he had kissed her. Her first kiss, and now she was leaving. Life is full of surprises, both happy and sad, she thought. The thought of Peter and her family helped her keep her head high as she walked away from the home she had known all her life. She scanned the group of frightened girls and found there to be around ten girls, eleven including herself. Girls were crying, some having to be tearfully dragged away from their families. The town was all gathered today. They stood in the chilling wind and watched, tears in many eyes, as their daughters and friends left with the grim group of soldiers.

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They walked slowly so that the girls would keep up to the horses in the forest towards the mountains the soldiers had come over. Once they reached the mountain, the pace became even slower and Christiana wondered if they were going to be walking all the way there. It would be hard work, tough going in this steadily increasing cold and rocky mountain. She walked up to a soldier and tugged at the hem of his cloak. “Are we going to have to walk the whole way there? I’m not sure some of the girls can handle it. We need to take a rest or we won’t make it.” The soldier glanced behind him and saw that what she said was true. Some girls wore their best dresses, thin and summery, for they wanted to “wear their best” when going to see the prince. Christiana wanted to tell them they probably wouldn’t ever get to see the prince, except when serving him, but she had refrained and simply helped them up if they stumbled. 

The girls were not used to walking on the rough terrain, unlike Christiana, who’s feet were tough from running in the forests with Peter all day. They shivered in the cold and breathed heavily in the thin air and hard going. The soldier Christian walked next to looked kind, his face weathered and old, but calm, like a grandfather might be. He called out to the leader and told the girls to stop and rest a while. He went off and spoke to him while the girls gratefully sat down on rocks or on the dirty ground.

Christiana handed her warm jacket to a shivering girl next to her. She vaguely remembered her name was Elena, daughter to the tailor. “Th-Thank you,” the poor girl shivered as she spoke and clutched the cloak tightly around her. Just then the soldier came back and addressed the girls. “I know this is difficult and slow going, and very cold, but Sir William said you may ride with us if you wish.” He gestured towards his horse that stood calmly before him. 

Each soldier was willing to have a girl ride in front of them, but some girls were hesitant, unwilling to sit with a man because they had never done such a thing before. Christiana wanted to roll her eyes but again stopped herself. “Girls, you can either ride comfortably and semi warm or you can freeze and trip and get your gowns dirty.” At that thought the girls decided they would ride with the men. A soldier helped a girl onto his horse and the others did the same. They looked like nice men and Christiana was glad they were respectful and kind to the girls. Christiana looked around and found there was only her kind soldier left, and two girls still needing a ride.

She nudged Elena and said, “Come on, you need to get onto a horse. I’ll help you up.” The soldier took hold of Elena’s arms as Christiana propelled her up until she sat in the saddle. She wavered for a second, and Christiana was afraid that she would fall off the other side of the horse, but the soldier steadied her. He smiled at Christiana, assuring her the girl would be safe.

She was glad the horses had to move slowly and carefully, otherwise she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep up. As it was, it was an easy pace for her, and she was used to hard work and had climbed often so it was not as difficult for her as for others when the mountain air became harder to breathe. As they walked and rode along, she made conversation with the soldier. “My name is Sir James. Just James really. I find titles too pompous.” He smiled, inviting her to speak. “I am Christiana. Just Christiana.” She smiled and he grinned back at her. “You know, back in Chevall I have a girl around your age. I doubt she would like hiking up a mountain. You are a kind, strong girl.” Christiana ducked her head, embarrassed at the high praise he gave her. “I do only what I would hope someone would do for me if I needed help.”

The walk seemed less daunting and saddening as she continued to talk to Sir James. He told her of how he had fought in the Battle of Jilan. They had been fighting King Lucander from the South for the land around the city Jilan. It was a city of great wealth because of its rich and fertile farming lands. He had received a severe wound in his chest while saving a fellow soldier and was commended; given a title of land when they had won for his bravery and comradeship during the battle. He ruefully showed her a long scar on his arm where he had been sliced by a sword because he had been new and fresh in the force at the time, and had run full tilt into the sword. It was his own fault he said, being so excited to fight the enemy and running recklessly, and he never ran into his fights like that thereafter. 

His comical expressions as he described his mishaps had Christiana laughing, her voice filling some of the empty silence of the mountains. Soon other soldiers joined in the conversations, voices merrily describing fights and battle scars and joking around. The mood was less tense after that, and Sir James duly noted that it was because of the girl Christiana, who was both magnanimous and smart for her young age. 

As the sun went down Christiana stared at it longingly behind her. It reminded her of her walks with Peter where they would walk hand in hand, their shadows drifting behind them as the sun’s fiery colors turned pink and orange and faded into the horizon. She already missed her mother and father and wondered if they were eating supper or if they were already getting ready for the night. She stared at the fire, looking distantly into the flames. The fire crackled and the girls were happily helped off the horses. They scurried around the fire, trying to soak in the warmth into their chilled fingers and toes and rub their aching thighs from the tiresome ride. 

The men handed out a few pieces of jerky and water to the girls but Christiana was happy to find that her mother had packed her an entire loaf of her homemade bread. She inhaled the warm homey scent and relaxed. She looked up to see that everyone was eyeing her bread hungrily. She sighed and smiled, and taking a small chunk, she passed it around the fire. They all looked at her gratefully, the soldiers especially, who had been eating nothing but jerky and hard tack for the past few weeks since they’d left on their mission.

Sir William came and sat next to her on the rocky ground. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes and Christiana sat there silently, staring out into the night. “So you are the granddaughter of Lord Walter.” He stated it as a fact, and she nodded, then spoke, realizing he might not be able to see her nod in the dark. “Yes, I guess I am. Did you know my grandfather? He died before I was born, or so I was told.” He nodded, his lined and scarred face seemingly stern, softened as he remembered the good man. “Ah, we were buds for a long time. He was older than me, maybe five or six years, though age didn’t really make a difference in terms of our friendship.

“I’m normally a knight, you see, but the princess was so picky and fiesty about getting her maidservants and other workers were busy preparing for the Queen’s birthday while soldiers went out and collected the money taxes due. So the king left it up to us to find these new servants.” He shook his head, obviously annoyed by the spoiled princess. “Anyways, I met your grandfather when we were both still young.” He chuckled at the thought and continued, Christiana listening intently. “He was a page at the time, the son of a high up nobleman. When I saw him, he was fighting with some of the older pages, not thinking about whether he could win, he just wanted to fight. He was always so rowdy back then. 

“The two biggest pages were just about to slug him while one held him down, when I threw my dagger, which was actually just a little wooden stick with a handle at that point, at the biggest one and he had just turned around, so it hit him in the eye. He let out a roar so loud I would have sworn the whole kingdom could hear it. As it was, Walter did and he turned around and his eyes grew wide as the page’s eye gushed blood and he roared, big and angry, his hands slippery with blood. We turned and ran then, this big page thundering after us like an angry bull. Once we finally lost him, we’d collapsed, laughing our heads off.

“After that we were fast friends. When he became a knight, I was so envious of him. I was too young to become a knight and was still a page, even though I was a little old for page duties. Oh I wanted to be him so badly. He always let me visit him though, and never forgot me. He actually took me on as his page and I was happy to serve him, cleaning his armor and helping him. He taught me many things. Things were good for many years.

But then a war came, the War of the Ages, as you’ve probably learned in history lessons.” She nodded, not sure but it sounded vaguely familiar and she didn’t want to pester him with a question. He continued, sighing heavily. “After a particularly horrendous battle, he came to me, his eyes feverish and filled with tears. He said he couldn’t forget the sight of all the blood. He truly looked deranged and crazy. He was feeling pangs of guilt for killing the enemy. I had never experienced that and I thought war was all glory having never actually fought myself, so I laughed at him.”

He sighed, “When I laughed at him, it was like he shut down. He didn’t talk to me much after that, and it was always weird between  the two of us. He got seriously ill and began to rant in his disillusioned state. He spoke of a girl, a new generation, who would bring peace, and other random things about that legend of the White Diamond. I didn’t think much of it until I met you.” Christiana looked at him skeptically. “As great as Lord Walter was, shouldn’t you just brush aside a crazy man’s raving?”

He nodded, seeing her logic and replied, “Yes, I understand how you feel, I felt the same. But the thing is, he said your name, Christiana. I remember this phrase very clearly, it is burned in my memory. He grabbed my arm, his eyes focusing on me. His voice was weak and dry, but I heard him. ‘The magic beckons Christiana. Christiana. She will find the White Diamond. She must, before evil does.’That was the one time he actually made sense. His eyes were clear, not milky, and his eyes did not burn with the fever. After he spoke that though, his eyes grew filmy and deranged again and it was soon after that he went completely mad, making no more sense, and then he died. It was a very sad day for me. I had just become a knight, and now I watched my friend die.”

His eyes grew distant and she thought she detected a shine of tears in them before he quickly blinked and returned to the present. “I don’t know what it all means, but I have learned not to ignore magic when I see it. Whether good or evil, this White Diamond must be important somehow. Remember it.” Christiana had listened to all of this skeptically. But now her mind was racing, trying to recall ever hearing of a White Diamond. She came up blank, but was determined to find at least some trace of this artifact, whatever it was, if only to ease her grandfather’s memory.

They chatted a little more of palace life and life in Tatira, and then Sir William bid her goodnight and retreated to his tent. The girls all huddled together next to the dying fire, wrapped up in bedrolls. Christiana was again thankful to her mother, who had given her two jackets and her own bedroll so she didn’t have to share with the other girls. Grasping her ring closely in her hands, she kissed it, and with it, her thoughts went to her family and love that she swore not to forget. The ring would remind her when she felt lonely and bring her joy in her sorrow. She fell asleep that night, her mind whirling with thoughts of what she had left behind her, what she was doing right now, and what the future in Chevall, held for her.

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They traveled for what seemed like days, heading down the side of the mountain, and then they caught sight of the great city Chevall ahead of them. They could see the stone walls so distantly ahead of them, bright banners and lines of people going towards the city as well. The weary group caught their breath and a surge of energy seemed to overtake the girls. They were almost there! Soon they were all chattering loudly, full of renewed energy. They reached it by nightfall, their entrance marked by the torches that stood in brackets on the wall. Soldiers patrolled the top of the wall surrounding the large city of Chevall. 

Sir William called up to one and he disappeared, telling the gatekeepers to open the big gate. The gate was huge, made of thick wood and steel was nailed in, forming an effective barrier. It was around four tons, and took approximately five to six strong men to open and close it. The gate rumbled open and the group made its way in. The city was so big that Christiana and the rest of the girls stared in awe at the city before them. Even at night it was amazing. Christiana wondered what it would be like in the morning. 

She yawned, suddenly feeling tired. She had been walking after all for many days. At first, she had been sore when she would wake up on the hard mountain trail, but now she was used to it, getting stronger and more sure footed from all of the walking she had done. Sir William decided they might as well stop at an inn for now. It would take a while to get to the castle and he could see that everyone was tired and ready to sleep. He got them all into an inn, and the girls all shared one room, who, by the time Christiana got in, most had gotten into their bedrolls and gone to sleep, their gowns still on. By now, the girls had gotten more used to the dirt and the grime and didn’t complain about messing up their gowns. They slept in the bedrolls because it was all they had to keep warm, and soon were fast asleep.

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The next morning Sir William knocked on their door. “Girls, time to go. Today is officially your first day in service to the king.” The girls tittered and chattered, excited for what the day would bring. Were they really so excited to become maids and servants? Christiana wondered and shook her head. She would work hard, but she wasn’t exactly thrilled at the thought of forced labor.

“Stay together everyone! Don’t get lost and don’t let any little kids come up to you, they’re all thieves and pickpockets,” he warned, shouting to be heard over the noise of the awakened city. The group set out vigorously, walking through the streets following closely behind each other. Christiana stared, her mouth agape, amazed at the bustling city. Vendors had set up stalls everywhere, crying out their wares to who ever would hear. The streets were wide but still crowded, hundreds of people pushing around to get to places. Colorful banners hung off windows, bright fruits and vegetables lay in carts, ready to be bought. She had never seen so many different things and so many people!

She was jostled as people shoved her, trying to hurry to their own destinations. She tripped on the uneven pavement and fell, letting out a small cry as she scraped her knee. Standing up and wincing, she realized she had lost the group. Confused and lost, she tried to find them, but could not see them anywhere. Despairingly, she stood in a corner, trying to stay out of people’s way, while craning her neck to see if she could spot the soldiers dark coats or the girl’s bright dresses. It was hopeless, she thought, there were too many people swarming everywhere. 

How was she supposed to find the castle now? She bit back a sob at the hopelessness of her situation and straightened, determined to make the best of her situation. “Well then,” she said out loud, “I will just have to ask for help, and surely I’ll be able to walk in the direction towards the castle.” Spotting a merchant close to her she moved towards him. “Sir, could you tell me--” He looked at her, his gaze glancing over her when he saw that she wasn’t a potential customer. “Sorry, I’m busy.” He turned his back, shouting to a passerby, telling him what good deals he had on meat. Christiana walked away, feeling very alone. Not many people were friendly here, she noted. Everyone walked quickly, their heads down , minding their own business. Some people were yelling back and forth, haggling prices and getting deals. 

Ahead of her, she saw a boy who looked to be around her age weaving in and out of the stalls and carts. He was being chased by a big burly man. “Stop! You little rascal!” He cursed, his breathing labored as he lumbered after the lithe boy. The boy seemed to look at her and ran right towards her. Christiana could only stare as he barreled towards her, wondering if he was going to hit her. Then he ran right past her and jumped behind some barrels. 

The man skidded to a halt a few seconds after him, looking around frantically and huffing, out of breath. “Where’d that rapscallion go?! HEY YOU, girl, did you see him run some way?” He bellowed at Christiana who stared at him, frightened by this rude man. She almost felt sorry for whoever the boy was, as the man let out a string of profanity, telling the world what he would do once he caught the boy. She pointed towards a random street, eager to see him leave, and he ran off that way, not even bothering to thank her. She watched as the potbellied man ran away.

Then she turned to the barrels where the boy had hidden. He popped his head out from behind and asked, “Is that guy gone?” He looked around suspiciously, as though the man would suddenly appear and grab him. Christiana nodded. “Why was he chasing you?” The boy said easily, offhandedly, “Eh, I stole his purse and he got way more mad than he should have.” He shook out a purse in his hand and eyed its meager contents mournfully. “He didn’t even have that much,” he sighed, tipping the clinking coins back into the purse which vanished somewhere into his clothes. “You stole from him? You shouldn’t steal!” 

Christiana was aghast at the thought of someone stealing. She knew there were always bandits everywhere, but why steal from a poor merchant who was just trying to live and support himself and maybe even a family? Her father wouldn’t have been able to support them if someone had stolen his profits every time. She burst out the words and glared at the boy. “I would never have told him a falsehood if I’d known you had stolen from him! Even if he was a mean man.” The boy looked at her appraisingly, staring at her and her outburst.

“Come on, lets get out of here,” the boy said, pulling on her arm. She jerked back, appalled that he’d touched her. “What the heck are you doing?” He rolled his eyes and pulled her arm so she stumbled after him. “We’re getting weird looks and I really don’t want some soldier to question me. Christiana realized he was right, some of the shopkeepers around them were beginning to murmur and stare at them strangely.

He led her to a less crowded street and she followed, not knowing what else to do. Maybe he could lead her to the castle. She brightened at that prospect. He slouched against the wall and looked her over. “So are you new to the city? You obviously don’t know how things work around here, and your clothes say you’re a poor girl from a small town.” 

She blushed, embarrassed and annoyed at this rude boy. “Are you going to steal from me too? Cause I don’t have much.” She waved her empty hands in his face. “I don’t even know your name.” He shrugged carelessly. “I don’t know yours either. But if you insist,” he pretended to doff an invisible hat and bow. “My name is Gregory. Pleased to be at your service ma’am.” He said airily. Now he was just mocking her! She glared daggers at him and then replied just as airily, “What a pleasure to meet you Sir Gregory. I am called Christiana.” She imitated his bow stiffly and matched him eye for eye.

He smiled, amused at her spunk. “So are you from beyond the city?” She nodded. “Yeah, long story. But see, I really need to get to the castle.” He looked at her strangely, “What are you, some high and fancy noble?” She shook her head furiously. “No. I’m just a servant. I was going to the castle to serve when I got lost and I can’t find my group. I was hoping to just meet up with them but I couldn’t figure out how to get to the castle.” He grinned, “Well, I can certainly get you there. For a fee of course,” he added, a smile growing on his face. He looked at the glint of the ring on her hand. “That’s a nice ring you got there,” he said pointedly while staring at it greedily. She stared at him furiously. What an impossible boy! “Look, I don’t have any money and that ring was a precious gift! Besides, its a fake, and anyways, I’m going to be a servant, why would I have anything expensive or something worth something besides memories?” He frowned, seeming to consider the logic of this.

Then he shrugged, “well, I kinda like you so I might just waiver the fee this time.” She smiled, feeling hope return. He led her down a few less crowded alleys, “Shortcuts,” he said smoothly, as if he took these shortcuts a lot escaping from the angry people he stole from. She watched Gregory out of the corner of her eye as they walked. He looked to be her age, what was he doing stealing?

“Why don’t you become an apprentice or hire yourself out to some merchant? Then you wouldn’t have to steal,” she blurted out. He looked at her, his face suddenly turning to stone. “Nobody wants to apprentice a beggar. You have to be able to pay for apprenticeships. Who would hire a penniless street rat?” He spat the last two words out in contempt, saying the mean words that people called orphans and beggars like him. 

Christiana looked at the dirty ground, ashamed at having brought up something like that. “I’m sorry. Do you know of your birth parents or anything?” She hesitated to ask, but thought that maybe she could help him find his parents. Then she shook her head, she was so silly, she thought. She was to be a maid at the castle, she doubted she’d get time to do anything but tasks.

“No, I have no idea who my parents are. I don’t even want to know. Whoever they were left me at an orphanage to fend for myself. So I did, and if stealing is how I can survive, then thats what I’ll do.” He looked stonily ahead, refusing to look at her, and she felt bad. He didn’t have much of a hopeful future, it seemed. “I’m sorry. Maybe when I become a maid I could help you out or something. I could give you some of my wages, but I don’t really know how much I’ll make or anything.” 

He looked at her hopefully, but suspiciously. “Why would you do that? You just met me and I’m a terrible thieving liar right?” She blushed, “Well, I guess it must be hard for you to be all alone.” He glowered at her. “I’m not alone! I just like going solo.” He harrumphed and walked faster, and Christiana almost had to trot to keep pace with his long legs. She could tell he wanted to look tough and dignified so she bit back the numerous questions that waited at the tip of her tongue and they both lapsed into silence. All she could hear was the sound of their breathing and the slapping of their feet on the ground.

When the two turned another corner she was surprised to see the castle looming ahead of her, she paused. “Wow, that was fast!” She looked at Gregory with a grudging respect, seeing how fast he had gotten her to the castle. She’d lost count of the different alleys and streets they’d gone through. She was glad she’d met him. She would have gotten hopelessly lost without him and he really wasn’t that bad of a guy besides the whole thief thing. 

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“I’m guessing you’ll be wanting to go through the kitchen door right?” He led her past the large gate manned by soldiers farther along the castle walls to a smaller door hardly visible because it was overgrown with weeds and hidden by the forest behind it. He knocked on it, obviously familiar with it and it opened up. An older girl with an apron on opened it and smiled, opening it wider when she saw who it was. “Gregory! So nice to see you again. I saved a meat bun for you.” She winked and Gregory felt his mouth water. He loved meat buns. Maybe it was a good thing he’d brought that girl.

He looked at the Christiana girl while she spoke to the kitchen helper, explaining her plight. She was very different from the street girls he knew and the snobbish nobility he stole from. Though a little naive, he found her spit fire amusing and funny. She would be one to keep an eye out for, he could get some good money from her, he thought, maybe even a few treats like the cooks gave him. Gregory was well known by the servants in the castle and around there. With his humor and puppy dog eyes he never lacked for food when he visited, little treats slipped into his pockets mysteriously and he would gobble them up when he left.

Christiana told the girl about how she’d lost her group and the girl’s eyes lit up. “Oh yeah, I saw that Sir William had just arrived.” She lowered her voice and whispered conspiratorially, “I know cause I had to make tons of food. Want some?” She winked again at Gregory who didn’t need a second invitation. He skipped happily into the large warm room. A quail roasted on a spit and he hungrily looked at it. The girl shook her head and pointed at some other dishes. “You can eat those, but that quail is for the princess and if she doesn’t get it someone’s head is going to be rolling and it won’t be mine.” She raised an eyebrow as he snuck another glance and whiff of the crispy bird. He ducked his head and began shoveling food on a table into his mouth. 

The girl turned to Christiana, who stood uncomfortably in the corner, unsure of what to do. “My name is Mirabelle, but everyone just calls me Belle.” She smiled and offered her a seat. “I’ve been working at the castle for at least five years now. I’m guessing you’re here to work, right? I used to live in Silana village. Soldiers came for us and the towns taxes in the same day. It was sad, but you know, I kinda got used to working here and I send my wages every month to my family. At first you’ll only get two coppers a week,” and she shook her head in empathy as Christiana stared at her. Only two coppers? That was barely enough to send a letter! “But once I chose to stay they gave me more, since most people just serve their terms and return. Now I get paid two silver coins and one copper coin a week. It’ll be hard at first, but being a servant isn’t so bad,” she said. Christiana nodded and looked at the food in front of her hungrily. She realized she hadn’t eaten anything since the small bite of breakfast she’d nibbled at the inn that morning.

Belle handed her a plate and some well worn silverware. She dug in, mumbling her gratitude and high praise for the delicious meal between bites. She had never eaten meat this good before! Seasoned and spruced up with sprigs of some green, good smelling herb the duck was amazing. She bit into the succulent delicacy, savoring every bite. Gregory was enjoying it just as much as she was. “Are we really allowed to eat this food? It seems like something you’d serve to the king!” 

Belle nodded. “We do serve it to the king, but most of the time the plates are untouched, because people are falling over themselves to please the king, they pay attention to every little thing he says and forget to eat, or don’t want to look like a pig, eating in front of their king. I don’t know why they put out so much when nobody does anything but drink, and honestly, it’s a waste of food.” She sighed, looking at the many plates of food still left, wasted. “Well, us servants get enough to eat, that’s for sure!” Gregory continued to stuff his face, but Christiana pushed her plate back, full and warm. 

“I should probably find Sir William. I bet he’s furious.” Belle nodded gravely, “I’ll take you to his quarters, though I’m not really supposed to really be near the rooms of the castle’s residents. She hesitated, unsure, but then shrugged and took Christiana down the hall, leaving Gregory still eating. “I might as well take you, not like I’m doing much else except “guarding” the kitchen. I might even be commended for finding you.” She smiled at the thought of a reward and led her down a long corridor. It was spectacular, ornate gold vines wrapped around columns that lined the corridor. Portraits of past kings were hung on the walls, each a vibrant and colorful picture with the serious faces of the young kings and their queens at their sides. 

Christiana stopped and looked at a picture of King Geoffrey, the current king. He looked stern, his mouth turned down in a frown that looked permanent. With his jet black hair and dark eyes, he looked very stately and imposing. His face was half in shadows, an expression in his eyes that was unreadable. She shivered. He certainly wasn’t a loving father figure.

Belle tapped a fancy brass knocker on what Christiana assumed was Sir William’s quarters. He opened the door and his face grew almost stormy as he saw her. “Where have you been? I thought you’d run away!” He pulled her in and she almost fell into a chair. “I-I’m sorry. I got lost, and I couldn’t find you and so this boy helped me and I came to the castle as fast as I could, and--” She babble loudly, scared by his unexpected anger. “It’s okay. I was just worried about you,” he said heavily.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He seemed to remember Belle was standing outside and pulled the door open. She stood outside nervously, looking uncertain of what to do. He pulled a silver coin out of his pocket and flipped it to her. She caught it neatly, looking in amazement at the worth of the coin he’d given her. “Thank you for finding her. Please let King Geoffrey know that we have found the missing girl.” She scampered off, clutching the coin.

Sir William turned back to Christiana and said softly, “Do you know what trying to leave when you are promised to the kings service means? If they had found evidence of you trying to escape the country, they would have imprisoned you for treason, just for being against working for the king.” She gasped, “I would never do something like that! I just got lost.” She looked terrified and he spoke to her soothingly. “It’s okay now. You’ll be fine. Have you eaten?” She nodded and he stood up, extending his hand to her.

“Lets go find your new boss. The other girls have already been sorted and sent off to do different jobs.” He took her through a confusing maze of corridors. She didn’t know the castle was so big. A thin, cranky looking old woman waited for them. “So this is the girl who tried to escape?” Sir William shook his head firmly. “She didn’t try to escape. So you can go tell that to your little gossiping club. Meanwhile, this girl needs to know her duties and needs to learn how to do things around her.”

The lady grumbled and took the girl by the arm. She opened a door and pointed in, handing her a bedroll. “You get to sleep here unless you get assigned a job requiring you to stay there. Take any spot on the floor without a bedroll.” She cackled as Christiana stared at the nearly covered floor. She found a tiny bit of space and dropped her bedroll there. “Don’t just stand there lazy girl. Now we get you you’re tasks.” She fumbled with some papers and Christiana picked some up that had fallen from the pile. The lady snatched them away and continued to look at them, thinking aloud. “Well John needed an assistant with his workforce...” She looked her over with a critical eye and shook her head at the thin girl. “Not strong enough to do any of that...” 

“I am strong enough to do work,” Christiana said indignantly. Sir William sighed impatiently and spoke up. “Wasn’t she supposed to serve the princess? A few of the other girls were assigned to attend to her as well.” The old woman continued to mutter to herself and flip through papers, ignoring the two people behind her. Then she brightened, as though she’d come up with a brilliant idea. “Ah, I’ve got it! You can serve the princess.” She stabbed a bony finger in her direction and shuffled slowly away, expecting her company to go with her. Christiana followed her, not knowing what else to do. the woman grunted and thrust a simple shift at her. “Take a bath and then change into this. The princess likes her attendents clean but simple.” She sniffed and Christiana blushed, knowing she must be appallingly dirty by now after stumbling around the streets of Chevall. 

She was grateful to see a small bathtub in the corner of the room the woman had led her to. When she shut the door she stripped down quickly. She lay her clothes on a rickety old chair and then stepped into the water. She gasped at how cold it was and quickly washed up, eager to get out of the chilly water. Her teeth chattered in the cold as she dried herself and put on the thin dress the lady had given her. It did nothing to help her keep warm and she rubbed her arms together to stay warm. The woman did not come back and after awhile she wondered what she was supposed to do. Finally the door opened and a girl stepped in cautiously, peeking in to make sure she was dressed and ready. “Elena!” Christiana shouted joyfully. “I’m so glad to see you! Do you serve the princess too?” Elena nodded, smiling at Christiana’s excitement. “I’m here to take you to the First Attendant and then to the princess.” 

As they walked, Elena chatted happily, telling her how they had arrived and how she’d been allowed to bathe for the first time in the past week. She’d been given a dress too, and Christiana remarked at how cold it was. Elena smiled and shrugged, “Once you start working, and get inside the princess’s rooms, you’ll be warm.” She knocked quietly on a small door, plain and ordinary, unlike most of the elaborately decorated rooms around them. A girl opened it, wearing a plain dress like the two were wearing, and she guessed every one of the attendants had to wear them. 

They stepped inside and a group of girls milled around them, chattering and introducing themselves. “Girls. Quiet.” A sharp reprimand quieted the girls instantly. Christiana looked for the source and saw a girl walking towards them. She wore a simple shift like the other girls, but gold bracelets she could only assume were real, were wrapped around her delicate wrists. Her eyes flashed with importance. Christiana guessed this was the First Attendent. 

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“I am Delia. The First Attendant to her Highness, Princess Aria.” She told Christiana exactly how low her position was as an attendant. She would be working for the princess indirectly. “I am her favored attendant, and she only listens to me. So you will do whatever I tell you, exactly when I tell you to.” Christiana felt an instant dislike at the girls superior and arrogant tone, but pushed down her flaring dislike. Delia continued to speak, the girls all standing silently around them. She told her she would now introduce her to the princess, who liked to at least know who her servants were so she could decide for herself if they were worth keeping.

“You better behave. Bow so you are looking at the ground, and when you stand, keep one hand behind your back, which is the proper humble position for a servant, unless you are told to do something. NEVER look the princess or the other royal family members in the eyes. Look past them or on the ground. It is impolite. The last girl who looked straight at the princess was beheaded within the hour because Princess Aria been in a foul mood.” Delia’s eyes flashed again, showing the severity of breaking the rules. Christiana gulped. She hadn’t known serving someone would be so perilous and dangerous...

She fiddled with her hands nervously as Delia marched towards the princess’s quarters. She would need to memorize how to get around the castle, she thought to herself distractedly. She hoped she wouldn’t mess something. It would be a pity to die her first day on the job, she laughed nervously, then quickly shut up as Delia glared at her. Delia knocked on the princess’s gold handled door and a voice barely audible admitted her. 

Immediately, her superior tone went away and she was the picture of a perfect humble servant, bowing as she entered. She soon returned and gestured for Christiana to enter. “Princess Aria, this is attendant Christiana. She has been given the honor of serving among your attendants from this day forth.” Christiana tried to hide her awe but she couldn’t help but stare amazed at the large quarters. Covered with gold and silver and decorative pieces, the room simply dazzled. Then she looked at the large pure white bed and saw the princess for the first time. 

She was an exquisite being. Pale as porcelain, the young girl had golden curls that fell down past her shoulders and pooled into the blankets. With almond shaped green eyes, she studied her new subject. Christiana ducked her head and bowed when Delia nudged her painfully in the side with her elbow. She tried not to stare directly at the princess and instead stared at her reflection in the shiny marble floor. 

“Come closer, Christiana is it? You don’t really need a name you know unless I make you my favorite.” Princess Aria was only around thirteen years of age but was haughtier than Delia and suddenly Christiana felt that serving Delia might be a lot easier than serving Princess Aria. She shuffled forward, her feet feeling warm and comfortable as she stood on a soft, white rug beside the bed. “Look at me.” Christiana wouldn’t look at her and the princess laughed, her laughter tinkling like a bell in a slight breeze. 

“It seems as though everyone has heard of my last unfortunate attendant. It is all right. I give you permission. No, I command you, to look at me.” Christiana looked at this princess, with her perfect face and tiny, soft voice that contradicted her superior tones and authoritative stances. “You have very dark eyes and skin...” the princess stated matter of factly, staring at her intently and inquisitively. “You have more beautiful eyes than on any I have ever seen Princess, my eyes are nothing in comparison,” Christiana said demurely, hoping to gain favor in the princess’s eyes. She wanted to be liked by the princess, not hated by the person who held control over her life. She pushed the thought of Peter’s dark eyes filled with love away and clasped her hands together behind her back, bowing. 

There was silence in the room and she feared that she had said something wrong. Then Princess Aria smiled, her baby face like an innocent angel. “I have decided,” she announced, happily clapping her hands together. “You are my new favorite. Delia, give her your gold bracelets that will signify your new rank.” 

Delia stammered and stepped back. Her mouth dropped open, shocked at the turn of events. When she didn’t hasten to unfasten the bracelets, the princess’s child like face screwed up, angry at not getting her way quickly enough and her voice sounded like thunder. “I said, give her the bracelets. NOW.” Delia hurriedly thrust the bracelets at Christiana, who wanted to run away. “Leave me, I do not wish you to serve me today.” The princess’s eyes flashed in irritation and childish anger. Both Delia and Christiana began to back up, bowing all the way towards to the door. “Not you,” the princess’s severe expression changed instantly as she smiled tenderly at her, then glared at Delia, who had hesitated at the princess’s words. Christiana stopped instantly, and Delia practically ran out the door. 

The princess turned back to Christiana, who stood, her hands fumbling with the clasps on the bracelets. She finally got them on and they clinked, sliding down on her small wrists. “You are new here I am assuming? From the next village, what was that again?” She seemed to be musing to herself and Christiana wondered if she should reply. She nodded, and then the Princess Aria spoke again. “Ah yes, Tatira right? I knew the T’s were next on the list. Now tell me of this village. I am eager to hear of it. Delia was from Chevall and never had anything interesting to say, and she never told me about how nice my eyes were. So are there many girls in Tatira? Do you have to work outside? Do you really eat dogs?” 

Christiana looked up, surprised at her interest in the small town and feeling slightly overwhelmed by the amount of questions. “May I have permission to sit, your highness?” The princess nodded and she sank gratefully into the plush carpet. Then she took a breath and told her all about the village of Tatira. “Well, its pretty small. There are only a few girls in the town that are around your age. Um, I do work outside. Sometimes I help my mother weed the garden or run errands around town. And no, we don’t eat dogs.” She then told stories of her family and the other villagers, including Peter, though she didn’t tell her about how she was madly in love with him, and that the princess had taken her away from him.

The princess listened intently and when Christiana lapsed into silence, unsure of what else to tell her, she smiled brightly. “Thank you for telling me.” She looked wistfully out of the large window. “I would like to visit this village. You have made it seem so real to me. I’d love to learn to do the things you have learned to do. All I do is go to lessons on reading and writing, history, and all of that boring stuff” She pouted silently at the thought of lessons, and then pondered the stories she’d just listened to, and she sat there in silence too, amazed by the thought that the princess could be taught reading and writing. Not many back home knew how to read and write. It just wasn’t something one was taught in small villages. She supposed that as a diplomat and a future queen, she needed to know all of that. 

A loud knock on the door made her jump, distracted from her thoughts. The princess, used to it, called out, “Enter.” An attendant came in, her eyes focused on the floor. “Princess Aria, Delia told me to bring you your meal.” The princess’s eyes flashed again in annoyance. “Who said I wanted dinner? Christiana will get it for me when I want it,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. The poor girl stammered an apology and left quickly and quietly. Princess Aria smiled again, as calm as ever. “Now tell me about your family and how you travel. By horse and cart right? That sounds fascinating!” Christiana inwardly sighed. This was going to be a very long day, she thought.

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She didn’t end up doing many menial or hard tasks, which she had expected to be doing. She mostly spent the time with the princess, being her “playmate” and getting her things and with and entertaining her with stories. It was strange, being commanded by this younger girl, knowing that being her peer in age meant nothing, that the princess was higher than her by birth and had power over many people’s lives.

Christiana did learn a lot of the do’s and dont’s that came with being a servant. She had never known there were so many rules. Her head reeled when one of her fellow servants kindly taught her most of the basic things. First, she was not allowed to look at a member of the royal family in the eye. Many nobles visited and some lived there permanently, staying in one of the many rooms and chambers in the large castle. When going with a noble somewhere, like if she were to carry some item or message with someone, she had to stay at least two paces behind them. “Fold your hands neatly behind your back or in your lap,” the girl, Carina, had whispered to her that night. 

“Keep your expression smooth and don’t ever speak unless spoken to directly, nobles like to have invisible servers, so they can pretend we don’t exist.” Christiana sighed, it would take her a long time to learn all of these things. Carina gave her a sympathetic look. “It’s confusing now, but it’ll get easier. Besides, if you don’t do things right, you’ll soon learn for some nobles will literally beat you if you displease them.” She held up a bruised arm where some angry noble must have grabbed her arm too tightly. Christiana winced at the sight, hoping the nobles she served would be nice. Then she realized she might not even have to serve them if she was to serve the princess all day.

As she lay on her bedroll that night, her mind was filled with all of the lessons of the day, of her home, and of Peter. She gave a longing sigh. She missed him so much, but there was nothing she could do. She resolved to write him a letter, then remembered he couldn’t read. Her mother could though, so she decided she’d write one anyway, he’d get her to read it for him. She went to sleep, comforted by that thought.

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Christiana soon became used to her duties as First Attendant to Princess Aria. She could have become very comfortable in her high position among the servants, except for the fact that the princess could replace her just as easily as she’d replaced Delia with her constant mood swings. She felt slightly guilty when she saw Delia’s tear stained face one morning after the princess had berated her nastily. But the girl’s sad features had instantly turned to hate, so suddenly and so forcefully Christiana almost backed away. The angry girl had stormed away then, leaving her with her apology still on her tongue.

Delia hadn’t been very happy at her demotion, though the other girls were happy. They hated Delia’s superior tones with them, whereas Christiana always had a kind word to say. Delia took great joy in giving her a sharp prod in the side or a pinch to her bare skin whenever she could. The other girls never noticed, and Christiana never spoke up. She was tired of her petty anger though.

After a particularly painful “fall”, Delia of course had helped her down to the ground, she grew angry at the girl who now stood over her, smirking. “Delia, what is your problem? I’m sorry Princess Aria doesn’t like you anymore. Why take it out on me?” She was about done with this vengeful girl determined to ruin her life, her temper rising. Delia hissed angrily, looking like a cat with its claws out and ready to fight. “I worked hard for that position. I was the First Attendant for three years, serving her dutifully.” Christiana raised her hands imploring. “What can I do? I would happily give it back to you, but if I tried I’m sure both of our heads would be rolling by morning.” 

Delia just glared at her so Christiana got up and brushed off her dress. She wore a light blue gown made of expensive silk, but it was pretty dirty because it was the only thing, besides her shift, that she had to wear. It looked strange on a servant, because it was one of the princess’s dresses. The princess had grown tired of it and thrown it to Christiana, telling her it was pointless for her to keep it, and she wanted her servant to look decent and worthy of serving her. She felt like a stranger in the dress, but Delia obviously envied the cast away dress. She harrumphed, angry and bitter at her turn of events. Delia watched her walk away, and Christiana was sure she could feel the lightning bolts crackling from the other girl’s eyes.

She hurried around the corner to get out of range of Delia’s hate and then slowed down. She hesitated, not wanting to go back to her mistress’s rooms. She sighed aloud. Serving the princess was far easier than the other girls’ jobs. All she ever did was keep the princess company and hand her cups of imported tea someone else had prepared. 

The one thing she did do that could be considered dangerous would be to taste the food before the princess ate, just to make sure it wasn’t poisoned. She enjoyed that though, as the princess always had delicious food. Besides, she doubted anyone would care to poison the princess. Princess Aria was such a stubborn girl anyways that the acid inside of her would probably cancel out the poison and she would just thrive upon it.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, chuckling, that she didn’t see the man in front of her until she ran into him. Hitting what felt like a stone statue, she fell ungracefully onto the ground in a flurry of skirts while the stranger just stood there, more shocked than hurt. “Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there,” the stranger said. Christiana looked up into the greenest eyes she had ever seen, greener than the princess’s even. He had a rich, sophisticated voice when he asked her if she was okay. She nodded quickly, picking herself off of the ground. 

He helped her up with a firm grip on her hand he propelled her to her feet. She looked at her kind helper and gasped. It was the Prince Alan she had carelessly run into. “You’re Highness! I am so sorry for running into. It was all my fault. it won’t happen again, I promise.” She babbled and bowed and tried to maintain her balance at the same time, hoping no one was around to get angry at her for her foolishness and clumsiness. He looked at her calmly, and she stared at his shiny black shoes, searching for some sign that he wasn’t angry in the reflection of the polished black.

She felt his cool fingers lift up her chin and she jerked away in surprise. He stepped back. “Ah, I’m sorry. I was just going to say that you don’t have to look at the ground. I like looking at the people I’m talking to.” She forced herself to look up, she was really getting into the habit of looking at the ground. He must not know of the consequences, or maybe he could change the rules when he wanted to because he was the prince. She formed her words carefully, “I am sorry, but it could be seen negatively by others for a servant to be looking and speaking to the Prince of the kingdom so boldly. 

He looked surprised at that. “Oh, you’re a servant? I thought...” His voice trailed off as he looked at her. Christiana shifted under his stare. “Well then, come with me. I needed a servant to help me anyways. I’ll have a message that I need sent soon. You know how to send messages right?” he looked at her expectantly and she nodded vigorously. He strode off, his walk paced, yet quick, for he had long legs that took bigger steps than her. She followed him a couple of paces behind him, eyes downcast, hands clasped demurely in front of her in the proper position, or rather, what she hoped was the proper position. She knew if someone caught her walking next to the prince familiarly, she would be in a lot of trouble later. 

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The prince talked about shallow things as they walked. He asked what she thought of the tournaments he fought in, and wondered if she thought he did well and if he looked valiant in his shining armor that he had had tailored to fit him perfectly. Christiana was slightly irked by his questions and comments. She had never been to one of the tournaments, for Princess Aria was too young to go apparently, and she was forced to stay with her, to always be there to serve if she was needed. His questions were mostly about his looks and she spewed out flattery when he would pause, waiting for a reply to something.

He continued to speak, complaining about the poor swords he was using at the moment, and how dull they were. He could do with so much better with something like a jeweled handled sword. He’d seen something like that in a painting once, he said. Christiana wasn’t really paying attention, but he didn’t seem to notice. He’s nice enough, she thought as she fixed her eyes on his back. She had to admit though, that she found his petty worries and shallow thoughts slightly discombobulating and annoying, since she’d had no idea what he was talking about most of the conversation and he just never stopped talking.

He turned and she dropped her eyes to the floor. “Hey, so what do you think?” He looked at her expectantly, and she was confused. “What?” “I asked if you thought it’d be possible for me to find a jeweled sword. Like, if I could have one that was all silver or pure gold maybe! Then on the hilt there could be gems like diamonds or rubies cause those look nice. I would have to send for the best blacksmiths and jewelers to create such a magnificent piece.” His voice rose in volume as he got more excited by his own idea. “So, what do you think?” She looked at him for a second, completely zoned out, confused on why he would want such a thing. He had an armory filled with good swords and knives and daggers and who knows what else.

She carefully thought before she spoke, and said some truth, but sugarcoated her real thoughts. “Your Highness, while a sword like that would most likely be very beautiful, I don’t believe it would be practical. A sword made of pure gold would most likely not be very strong and would easily break against a sword of iron or some other weapon. Also, with many gems, the sword would be very heavy I would think, and hard to wield in battle. It would be far better for you to win a battle with only your strong presence and an ordinary sword that will do the job, than to lose with a beautiful sword at your side.”

He looked at her for a second, and completely stopped walking. She almost ran into him he stopped so suddenly. “You don’t like my idea?” To her, his voice sounded whiny. She hastened to reassure him and smother on compliments. “Of course not Highness! I only meant that with your handsome features, you need not have a sword to take away from the extravagant features of your own self.” She almost gagged at her sickly sweet and fake words, but he didn’t seem to notice that. He was a little confused and wondered what the word extravagant meant, but then shrugged and smiled that same endearing smile as his sister Aria. “I think I like you, you make me feel good about myself.” Christiana almost groaned, Aria had pretty much said the same thing, and now look where she was. She almost walked away right there and then, but she didn’t. She stood still, her eyes cast downward as she humbly mumbled, “Thank you your Highness, you are too kind to a poor servant like myself.” He smiled again, pleased with her response and her flatter and they continued walking.

The reached a very large door intricately decorated with sheets of gold tapered over designs of leaves and other amazing things that Christiana could only imagine the talent used to create the tapestry like door. Two guards stood on either side, spears in their hands and short swords in their belts. They saw the prince and bowed, hands over their chests in respect, and opened the door. The prince walked through and Christiana hesitated, unsure of whether she should follow, or if the guards would even let her if she tried. The prince turned back to her, exasperated. “Come on, what are you dawdling for?” She hurried past the guards who grudgingly let her by since the prince had obviously meant that she could enter the room.

She stopped as the doors closed behind her with a bang. Amazed, she stared at the place she had just entered. She was in a large study, huge and fancy. Bookshelves stood against every wall. A fireplace with a gold doors shielding the thick and luscious carpet in front of it from sparks. Flames danced merrily on the crackling wood that spit its bright sparks of light out.

The prince walked forward, relaxed, and addressed a figure lounging in a high backed chair. “Father, when are we going to have the ball? Mother is getting anxious preparing for something that’s date hasn’t even been decided yet.” Christiana almost yelped in surprise. She was standing in the presence of King Geoffrey! This was certainly a surprising day, she thought. Meeting both the prince and king in the same day was very frightening and exciting at the same time. The king was tall, she could tell even as he slouched in the chair. His face was strong with a few battle scars, showing his wisdom and age from war. but his expression was more kind than she had expected. 

“Who is the girl?” He asked, his voice low and full of authority and command. Christiana bowed, feeling out of place in her ragged dress, soiled with dirt and other unidentifiable stains from her many mishaps of the week. The prince waved his hand lazily in her direction. “I was going to send this servant with a message for mother once we finished talking. I ran into her on my way here and remembered I was supposed to ask you about the ball.” 

King Geoffrey sighed. He loved his son, but sometimes Prince Alan was just a little too oblivious to the world around him. “So where were your guards when you ran into the girl?” He raised an eyebrow, staring down his son who squirmed under his unflinching gaze. “I, uh, seemed to have lost them some way back.” He smiled winningly, “I’m sure they’ll be back soon! They’re okay.” He said cheerfully, as though they had simply stopped for a break. Christiana was guessing he’d ditched them somehow and wondered how a prince known by everyone managed to escape a platoon of guards dedicated to his well being and survival.

“You know you’re supposed to keep them with you at all times. What if someone tries to kill you? We cannot have the heir to the kingdom wandering around unprotected,” the king said, chastising his son. The prince protested, declaring that he could take care of himself very well, and then immediately apologized and promised and wheedled his way out of trouble at the king’s glare. Soon they began to talk of other things and Christian began to get tired of standing behind the two talkative people. Was she even supposed to be listening to a ruler’s strategies for war and such personal things? Servants were to not be seen or heard, and she supposed she’d been forgotten as part of the wall. 

She discreetly glanced around, taking in the sight of the room again with fresh awe. There were so many books. The only book they’d had back at home was an old, dusty Bible her father and mother would read out loud from time to time. She could read, but most commoners couldn’t. How people like her parents would have been amazed if they too saw this large library. She thought about the cost of a single book back at home. For a hardcover, fancy and thick gold lettered book like one she saw laying open on the floor, for someone with a steady job it would probably be at least four to five gold coins, half a years wages! The king must have had over a hundred different novels on his shelves. 

The study itself was just as elegant as the clean and well taken care of books were. Chrystal glasses were on a maple wood table animals carved into it. A lion seemed to prowl up the table’s legs and a mighty boar was running across the top. God rings flashed on the king’s hands, most likely precious gems she’d never even heard of, worth hundreds of gold coins each. 

Christiana wondered at the numerous things one could have when one was a king. The immensity of everything was almost overwhelming. Her family could probably live fairly well off for the rest of her parent’s lives with even one of the golden plates that sat unused in decorative cabinets against walls throughout the castle. She focused back on the conversation, listening as the king spoke of the plans for the ball he was going to throw for his son. 

“I’ve already invited all eligible girls from the neighboring kingdoms.” Christiana hoped she hadn’t sighed aloud, but she knew that meant she’d be busy preparing suitable rooms for snobby princesses and nobles. Every hand available in the castle would be busy with tasks. Belle was already complaining of how they had already begun getting cartloads of food all to be cooked and kept ready for the big feast that would come. 

The king seemed to be looking at her sternly and Christiana hoped it wasn’t because she’d actually sighed out loud. “Um, your Majesty, would you have me send a message to her Highness, Queen Alexia?” She wished he’d stop staring at her so intently. “What is your name,” he asked. “Christiana Emory,” she said, then added quickly, “sir.” King Geoffrey stared at the girl. Something was familiar about her, he thought. But he couldn’t place what was so familiar and of course he didn’t usually look so closely at the servants and hired hands. He thought he recognized the last name of the girl, but figured he’d ask his wife later. 

He nodded in response to her question and said, “Yes, tell her the ball will be in three months hence. The Princess of Aritam will be the first to arrive, or so the messenger said, and she should be arriving tomorrow morning. So she will need rooms ready, and I expect that she will take care of dealing with the servants and preparing the rooms. Also, tell her I wish to meet with her tonight in my chambers directly after supper, for I have much to discuss with her about our daughter and other matters.” 

Christiana struggled to remember it all and stumbled on her words when she tried to repeat it word for word. Finally she was able to say it correctly and he sent her off with a copper coin for her trouble. She was happy to feel the cool coin in her hand, having a piece of spending money would serve to get her a nice treat for herself or help her save for a small token to send home.

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She set off eagerly, then realized she had absolutely no idea where the Queen’s rooms could be found, and she couldn’t find her way back to the study. She’d never gotten a tour of the castle even though she’d been working there for almost a week now. She had only ever gone to and from Princess Aria’s chambers and the kitchen. She ran to and fro, trying to find a familiar corridor or a person to ask, but the corridors were all strange and no one was in sight. The walls all looked the same to her, decorative and expensive, and that was all she knew. 

Groaning, she knew she’d be reprimanded if the queen never got the message. A tear escaped from her brimming eyes and fell to the smooth ground. “Why are you crying?” A voice made her jump and she looked up to see Gregory staring at her quizzically, head cocked to the side curiously. She angrily rubbed her eyes with her hand, mad that he’d seen her cry. “I can’t find the queen’s quarters and I’m supposed to give her a message.” “Wow, you get to see the queen?” His eyes grew big in amazement. “Not if I can’t find her rooms,” she replied miserably. Gregory brightened, cheerful as always. “I know how to get there, and I can take you if you let me come with.” Christiana looked at him skeptically. “You don’t even work in the castle do you? How are you even able to walk around here so freely?” He grinned impishly and replied pertly, “Oh, I have a way of getting around. I find work where it comes, though the castle never have any jobs for me I still wander around.” He skipped forward and she followed him. She realized she’d been doing a lot of following lately and she needed to learn how to get to places. “Hey, Gregory, would you teach me how to get around the castle? I need to learn so I don’t always have to ask you.” He grinned and nodded, then raced ahead.

Christiana realized he wasn’t wearing worn clothes anymore but was dressed like a scullery boy. “Where’d you get those clothes?” She asked him suspiciously. “Why, Belle lent them to me, I can’t exactly run around the castle without a pretend purpose can I?” He glanced at her reproachfully, his lower lip pouting. “You thought I stole them didn’t you?” She nodded guiltily. “Ah well, I forgive you. Don’t worry. I’ve only borrowed these for a short time.” He winked, his pout instantly gone and patted her shoulder, bouncing along beside her as excitedly as he ever was. 

“The queen! The queen! Just think of what Johnny the tailor’s apprentice will say when I tell him I met the queen!” He crowed triumphantly and Christiana swatted his head in annoyance. “Shush, I don’t even know if they’ll let you in at all.” He rubbed his head and then gave her puppy eyes until her down turned mouth turned into a smile and she sighed. “All right, I’ll try. But I don’t know how it’s gonna work cause there are guards, and a random kid probably won’t be gaining admittance into the queen’s personal rooms.” “I know!” he said, “I’ll be right back.” He ran off before she could stop him, so she just stood there, not knowing where else to go. 

He returned a few minutes later with a silver platter lined with a few pastries. His mouth was full and she had not doubt he had eaten more than one on the way back, though she had to admit he had a good idea once she heard it. “If I bring pastries for her Majesty, they’ll have to let me in, and besides, I’ve already made sure they’re not poisoned.” 

He grinned, still chewing, and Christiana couldn’t help but smile and laugh with him. She hadn’t laughed for a long time, she noticed. Her own laughter seemed foreign to her, but was also refreshing and relaxing, a nice change from the tense fear of displeasing someone or doing something wrong. They walked down the corridor, talking and laughing. 

As they went he taught her some little tips on how to figure out which corridors where which. “See that?” He pointed to a lion carved into an archway above them, leading to a set of rooms down another hall. “The lion is like a symbol for the king, so if you went down that way, you’d start seeing a lot of gold doors, and those would be the king’s doors.” She wondered if that was where the prince had taken her when they’d gone into the study. She couldn’t recall for sure, but at least she knew now where to look. “But servants aren’t allowed in unless the king gives permission for them to enter. There are guards stationed at his bedchamber doors and they can be vicious to poor, innocent kids.” He was talking from personal experience, and she snorted at the thought of him being a poor, innocent kid. 

“Next are the queen’s rooms.” Above them now was an archway with a lioness prowling across a gold sea of grass. “The lioness is for the queen, if you couldn’t tell. They like to use lions and lionesses cause they’re all fierce and king of the animals and all that.” Christiana stared at the picture, putting it into her mind so she would hopefully remember it for future use. 

“We should just go to her room now that we’re here, but let me tell you about the prince and princess’s rooms. They aren’t symbolized as animals and they don’t have guards posted at the doors, though they do have an entourage of body guards. On each door is a precious gem of some sort. Thankfully for you guys there are only two children. The prince has a blue sapphire, and the princess has a green emerald. I heard some neighboring king had like ten or eleven children! Man that would be so confusing.”

Christiana nodded in agreement and tried to remember all of what he’d just told her. Now that she thought about it, there was a green gem on the princess’s door. “I swear they must glue them on,” Gregory said wistfully. “I tried to pry one off a few years ago and it wouldn’t budge.” Christiana rolled her eyes at his “dilemma”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They walked down to the queen’s room where two very large guards stood at attention. They looked uninterestedly at the two, until they stopped in front of the door. Then they looked at them, wondering what two children like them wanted at the queen’s rooms. “I have a message from His Majesty for his wife, and she asked for a refreshment,” Christiana said grandly.

The guard reached for the platter and extended a hand to the girl expecting a letter or message, but Gregory indignantly pulled the platter back. “These are specially for the queen!” His playful smile and voice were gone, now he was a servant on a mission to serve the queen pastries. He puffed up importantly and said, “The cook told me to take these to her Majesty directly! She promised me a whipping if I didn’t give them to her straight up.” 

Christiana also ignored the extended hand and said coldly, following Gregory’s lead, “The king entrusted me with a verbal message, would you risk his anger?” She tried to stand confident and sure and the guards seemed to hesitate. They exchanged looks then opened the doors slightly. One of them called into the room. “Is your highness presentable for a messenger and servant boy?” A thin voice came from within, “Of course you fool, I am always presentable as long as it isn’t an assassin of some sort here to kill me, then you’d be supposed to kill them. Do they look like assassins?” The sarcasm seemed to go over the head of the guard, who looked the two over, deciding they couldn’t have hidden any weapons in their thin clothes. He nodded to the two and opened the door wide enough for them to slip through. 

They stepped in and Gregory’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. Christiana was amazed by the queen’s rooms as well, but she was almost getting used to the finery and expensive things. Queen Alexia was lounging on a long plush couch. Cushions and pillows with all sorts of tassels and embroidering sewn on surrounded her. She propped herself up onto a slender elbow and looked at her visitors. Everything about her looked important and dignified. The light greenish browns of her eyes were brought out by the gold encircled emerald that lay around her delicate neck. Gold earrings hung from her ears, almost blending in with the golden hair that curled lightly around her small frame. She oozed confidence and power, as small as she was, and Christiana could see the resemblance between the queen and her daughter. 

She must have stood there dumbly staring at the queen, for she cleared her throat impatiently and asked, “So what is the message silly girl?” Christiana gulped and repeated the message slowly, word for word. She was pleased that she’d managed to remember it all. The queen smiled happily at the news of the upcoming ball and jumped up. She clapped her hands together and a maid Christiana hadn’t noticed before stepped out of the shadows. “Go gather the servants and tell them we must start preparing the chambers for our coming guests immediately!” The servant scurried off and soon the queen was fretting about the chambers, planning for the ball out loud. 

She almost forgot the two who had delivered the message. Then she turned back to them distractedly, her mind already moving towards other preparations. “No return message. Please go, as you can see, I am quite busy.” Christiana bowed and smiled sweetly, then glanced up at Gregory who wasn’t even paying attention and didn’t bow or say anything at all. Thankfully the queen was too busy and distracted that she didn’t notice. Christiana forcefully rapped Gregory’s knuckles and he dropped the ruby ring he’d just palmed and it landed on the carpet without a sound. Then she hurried Gregory out and the door closed on the queen’s loud, shrill commands. They walked away and Christiana let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“Wow, I’ve met the king, queen, and prince today. What a day.” She was amazed at the thought, when some servants never met them, not even when serving the High Table food. Usually the royal family would have specific food already tasted set before them, and servants only watched enviously at the honored servants. Gregory looked amazed too and said, “Woah you know the whole royal family? I am so gonna stick with you!” He did a little jig at his good fortune and she saw something glint in his sleeve. She snatched it and held it up accusingly. “You stole from the queen? After I let you tag along! When you get hanged I’ll stand there and watch you smugly cause I’ll be able to say I told you so!” 

He tried to grab the gold bracelet but she held it out of his reach. “Ah come on, like she doesn’t have enough gold! She had bout fifty other bracelets. She’s not going to miss one little bracelet. I didn’t even take one of the fancy ones with gems all over it.” She glared at him. “No more stealing in the castle. You get plenty of food from the cooks who spoil you rotten.” He grabbed the bracelet from her hand when she was distracted in her lecture and scampered off, waving happily. “See ya later Christiana!” he said with a grin as he spirited away. 

She shook her head in mock frustration, too tired and amused to chase after him. She could never stay mad the fiesty little street kid. He had helped her find her way twice now, and she owed him big time. She enjoyed his company too, cause it made her feel less lonely in the big new world she now lived in. Sometimes she felt like she would not be able to have a place in the castle and that the two years would be a very long time. 

She didn’t belong among the nobles, and Delia made sure she knew she was not welcomed among the servants. Her heart throbbed as she thought of home. A pang went through her. Her small town was where she belonged, with Peter and her family, not here in this place where riches were squandered and wasted and going outdoors was unheard of unless one was on an errand in the busy and crowded streets of Chevall. She felt so trapped here, with no way out and no friends to tell her it would be all right.

Christiana sighed and made her way back to the Princess Aria’s chambers, determined not to get sad and completely lose it. Still a little confused, she had to back track a few times and continually look for the little hints Gregory had taught her, but she was able to get back. After a few times she would soon know her way around easily, it just took a while to get used to. She went to bed that night with happier thoughts, feeling more prepared for the days ahead. Grinning, she thought, she just met the whole royal family! What servant can brag of that?! She smiled, and closed her eyes, happy for the first time since she’d arrived.

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The next few months were in a tizzy, everyone trying to prepare for the ball. Princess Aria went through random fits, more angry than anything else, and she would randomly burst into tears. Her attendents were hurried about trying to please her. Christiana was tired of the outbursts and one morning she woke up to the ringing of the bell and heard Princess Aria ringing it saying she wanted her, yelling loudly. She knocked and entered when the princess gave her permission. Christiana was hesitant to say anything, knowing that the princess was definitely in a bad mood. She was looking at her oddly today as she sat, her arms crossed, in her bed. Was it because she’d been gone all yesterday? She had distinctly recalled the princess saying she could have a break since she would be having visitors all afternoon. She bowed and then looked up. “Have I offended you, your Highness?” The princess sighed and shook her head. “Call me Aria,” she said tiredly, “I am sick of being a princess.” 

Christiana was confused. Why would anyone not want to be a princess? “Your Highness, I mean, Aria, why do you not want to be a princess?” She then added hastily, “If you don’t mind me asking, I am a good listener.” She then recalled that the king had wanted to talk to her last night. When Aria didn’t answer right away she asked hesitantly, “Was it to do something with what your father spoke to you about last night?” The princess’s eyes flashed and she exclaimed, “NO,” But her tear filled eyes said otherwise. “Leave us,” she shouted peevishly at the other servants and maids who surrounded her, flocking around her nervously. They scattered instantly and left, leaving the two alone.

She gestured for Christiana to join her on her thick coverlet covering her bed and Christiana sat on its edge delicately, as though afraid she might stain it by sitting on it. “You must never tell a soul anything I speak to you of privately,” she warned, then she almost burst into tears when she tried to speak. “Th-They told me I am to be betrothed to the King of Kaleven!” she wailed and Christiana awkwardly patted her on the back, unsure of whether touching a princess was allowed. “Mother and father ignore my protests, they say its official, and they’ve already sent a messenger to the king telling him we accept his proposal. I heard he’s old and bald and fat and all he really wants is my dowry! But as long as it’s “good” and “beneficial” for our two kingdoms, they say it is more important than my  childish feelings. They just want to marry me off!” 

She sobbed, unable to stop blubbering now. “They’re so wrapped up in finding the heir to the throne a bride that they’ve completely forgotten about their daughter now!” Christiana sat there, holding the crying princess of Chevall in her arms. “You know,” she tried to soothe the princess, running her hands through the princess’s golden locks, and stroking her shuddering form. “It won’t be so bad. I doubt he’s old and bald and fat. I heard he was a little older than you because he’s a king, but not a lot, maybe he’s a sweet old man, like a father. You can’t trust rumors anyways. And just think, he must have instantly fallen in love with your beauty, thats why he’s asked for your hand in marriage so quickly, not because he was greedy. Since he’s a king he’d be rich already. He will shower you with presents and gowns and gold because he loves you so much.” The princess lifted her dewy eyes hopefully. “You really think so?” She loved getting presents. “Yes I do. Just think, you’ll get to be a queen! Not many other girls get an opportunity like that.” 

She smiled and Aria smiled back. There was a moment of tender connection between servant and soon to be queen. The princess smiled even more brightly. “I love you, you’re my favorite maid ever! And if you marry my brother, you’d get to be a queen too and we’d be related!” She clasped her hands in her pale ones eagerly. Christiana sat shocked. “Marry your brother? I can’t!” “Oh yes you can,” the princess said gleefully.

“I forgot to tell you another thing. My mother recognized your last name, and you are the daughter of a noble apparently. Which means that you’ll be required to attend the Royal Ball, which is to determine my brother’s bride.” Christiana looked at her uncomprehendingly. “Uh yeah, I guess I’ll be serving there.” “No,” Aria said, shaking her head. “You’ll be going as a nobleman’s daughter, a guest.” 

Christiana held her hands out, unable to think of such a thing. “I don’t want to go to the ball! I don’t even have a gown to wear but this!” She held up the limp gown she was wearing and the princess looked at it, nose wrinkled. “You’re right. You can wear one of mine! I have plenty!” She said brightly, all the while scrutinizing Christiana. “I’m going to make you look so beautiful, Alan won’t be able to look at any other girl in the room,” she said determinedly. 

Christiana stumbled out of Aria’s room that night, horrified and dazed by her new dilemma, the over eager princess was excitedly determined now that she must win the prince’s heart. She didn’t want to win the prince. Her love was for Peter only! She wondered if he got the letters she wrote weekly, if he thought of her as much as she thought of him. If he waited for her, she would choose him over the shallow prince she didn’t even know. 

But she knew if she told Aria, the girl would become angry or distressed with her many emotional tantrums. She would just have to play along, she sighed. She knew she didn’t have much a chance anyways as she didn’t have any of the training of the foreign princess or any of the elegance of noble born ladies, so she might as well enjoy the break she’d get while she could. She’d never been to a Royal Ball before and she was sure the food would be delicious. She almost felt a little excited at the thought of going to a ball. It would be a fun night, she thought, of just being able to relax, no having to scrub floors or serve at it while looking longingly at the delicacies she would have had to carry around for guests.

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The next few days went by slowly, yet quickly, for Christiana. All of the other servants were bustling around, preparing for the ball. Princess Aria insisted she stay with her, and also that she refer to her as simply Aria, though she kept forgetting. “We can’t have you bruising your arms or doing hard work when you’re an esteemed guest!” She had gasped when she saw the old gown she wore, dirty and torn with use. Handing her a costly dress to try on, she babbled happily about the ball. Now that Aria was more satisfied with the prospect of marriage, she was throwing all of her energy into helping Christiana. She, on the other hand, was less than thrilled, but allowed Aria to send maids in to fuss with her hair and clothes. She felt like she had to be extra careful with the dresses Aria made her try on. How was she supposed to feel comfortable in a dress that must have cost a lot? She felt like she’d rip it or ruin it somehow every time she tried to walk around in one. Nevertheless, the princess helped her find a nice dress and had her personal seamstress sow it to fit her form.

Princesses began to arrive in the castle, and there was much bustle and clamor all around the city. Nobles from the inner city flocked to the palace, and too soon, Christiana thought, the Royal Ball began. Servants scurried to and fro, trying to get everything in order. Flustered cooks set out heaping platters of rich delicacies, and the many girls in the castle primped and prepared to meet the prince. The Ball Room was cleared and dusted, tables set out for the refreshments, the floor scrubbed for dancing, and musicians tuned their instruments for the long night of dancing that would come in only a few short hours.

Christiana sat idly by Aria’s side, almost wishing she had something to do in the frenzied chaos that was ensuing in the rush to prepare things, while she just sat around doing nothing purposeful. The night drew near and Princess Aria donned a resplendent emerald silk gown that perfectly matched her eyes. She looked stunning, the dress was well sewn, looking like it was seamless. It wrapped tightly around her bust and stomach, then flowed into a long train that pooled around her ankles. The fabric glittering, falling smoothly around her slender form. When she walked, the silk moved effortlessly with her like she was wearing a gown of water that flowed and rippled, brilliant and fantastically chosen. Her pale skin seemed to glow as Christiana looked at her.

She spun around, showing off the dress’s swoosh that followed her, and smiled her dazzling white smile at Christiana happily. “Look, King Warren, my betrothed,” she said blushing slightly, “gave me this wonderful necklace to wear. Isn’t it just gorgeous?” She gushed proudly about her husband to be as she stroked a beautiful gold heart engraved on the back with the words, For Aria, my love. The gold was hammered into an artful design with diamonds inlaid around its edges. The expensive gift was his token to her, a token to show their betrothal and she had sent him a kerchief she had made herself, she’d told her proudly.  Now she wanted to wear it to the ball and she hoped that he would keep her kerchief with him always. Christiana thought the rich necklace looked lovely and fastened it around her neck gently. 

“Now it’s your turn!” The princess said once she was satisfied with how she looked. Christiana reluctantly slipped into a dress a servant held for her. The servant fastened the ties on the back and it fit snugly, giving her a slim waist. The silk felt cool against her skin and she was surprisingly comfortable. The princess had gotten her personal seamstress to fit it to her size perfectly and she was impressed at the seamstress’s work.

Next, the servants led her to a chair in front of the table where Aria usually had her makeup done. “Hold still,” Aria said unnecessarily, as they began to pull at Christiana’s unruly and tangle hair. They spun the chair around so she couldn’t see what they were doing. She blinked several times, and almost choked as they dabbed stuff on her face and rubbed things in her hair, powder flying everywhere.

Aria reached for the ring on her hand and pulled at it, saying, “Come on.  You can’t wear that old thing with that brand new dress and everything. I’ll give you a ruby ring that will match your dress and compliment your dark eyes,” she said, trying to convince her, but Christiana refused politely, yet firmly at this. “That was a gift from my father, and I am going to keep it. You may do whatever you wish, but let me keep this.” Aria stared into Christiana’s suddenly firm gaze and then said, “Okay, close your eyes.” She did and the girl placed something cool around her neck. Then she grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the full length mirror. “Open your eyes.” she said excitedly.

Christiana stared at herself in the mirror, amazed at the transformation. It was her, but more beautiful, and rich looking. She really looked like a noble, she thought. Her dark hair had been coaxed into smooth, soft waves that fell to her shoulders. Her usually deeply tanned face was scrubbed to perfection, and her skin seemed to glow in a soft and pretty way in the light. Bright red stained her lips, and a little light makeup made her skin and face look fresh and forever youthful. 

Her dress amazed her as well. Twisted around her neck, the straps created an elegant V, showing off her long neck and bronzed skin. A black jewel sat at the bottom of the V and the tight corset tapered into long tresses and folds of the full dress. The red silk accented her small torso and hid what she had always thought were wide hips in the ever moving skirts that flowed around her. The silk shifted and shone as it fell gracefully in unwrinkled movements. It rustled quietly as she walked and she felt graceful for the first time. She gasped when she took in the necklace that Aria had placed on her neck. A large ruby shone out against her skin, etched carefully until it looked like a beautiful rose in full bloom, which was framed by curling gold leaves that curled around it. It sat on her throat, its twisted gold chain lying smoothly against her bare skin. 

“I can’t borrow this!” she gasped, “I’ll lose it or break it and I’m not worthy of such finery, especially something of a princess’s.” She tried to take it off but Aria calmly pulled her hands away. “It is my gift to you. I had it made specially for you. Would you spurn the gift of a royal?” She asked delicately, knowing Christiana couldn’t say no then. Christiana smiled faintly, amazed at the generosity of her friend and mistress, and thanked her profusely. They would have hugged, but that would have ruined their carefully done makeup and hair. “You are beautiful, you will catch many eyes tonight, more specifically, you will be the girl Prince Alan looks at all night,” Aria said gracefully. “As will you, your Highness. For none can match your grace and beauty,” Christiana replied demurely. Then they turned and walked out of the rooms hand in hand to the ball.

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When they had walked the long corridors and reached the entrance to the Royal Ball, the princess went to the front, while Christiana drifted to the back of the line for introductions. All of the potential wives for the prince stood in line, and many of them talked nervously, while others stood confidently, prepared to get the prince to fall in love with them with a single bat of their long lashes. The man in the suit, Aria had told her, would ask for her name and place she was representing, and then he would announce it to the room. That was her cue to enter, walking down a long staircase to where King Geoffrey, Queen Alexia, Prince Alan, and soon Princess Aria, would be standing there regally to welcome her to the ball.  She hoped she wouldn’t trip and make a fool out of herself in front of everyone. She vaguely wondered if the prince would recognize her as the servant he’d sent a message with. She doubted it and became nervous, distractedly brushing her dress for invisible wrinkles.

Then the announcer called out, “The Princess Aria, the beautiful and majestic Princess of Chevall.” There was thunderous applause as the princess elegantly floated down the staircase. She embraced her parents and brother and then stood beside them as the girls were introduced one at a time. Prince Alan formally greeted each girl as she descended. Polite but brief, he would thank them for coming to the Royal Ball, and how he looked forward to the night. The girls all blushed crimson when he spoke to them, and curtsied before walking on as the next girl was called.

Christiana peaked out of the sheer curtain she stood behind, suddenly feeling nervous. The line in front of her grew increasingly shorter and soon it would be her turn. “Princess Calyssa of Erith Isles,” the announcer said loudly and the girl right in front of her strode forward confidently to loud applause, her pale blue dress shimmering. Christiana realized she didn’t know what to tell the announcer. There was no way she could announce that she was a commonor from a small obscure town that no one would actually know about, and besides, she didn’t own the town like some nobles did and she wasn’t exactly a princess or anything. 

When the announcer looked at her and asked for her name and title, she hesitated, then said boldly, “My name is Christiana Emory of Tatira.” She hoped she would do her village proud as the announcer went back out and said loudly, “Lastly, we have Lady Christiana Emory hailing from Tatira.” Everyone clapped politely, though most muttered among themselves, wondering where Tatira was. No doubt they’d never heard of the small town. She tread slowly and carefully down the endless staircase with its red carpet. She held her dress up, looking down so she wouldn’t trip and so she didn’t have to see all of the eyes staring at her. She reached the bottom and looked up into the prince’s green eyes. The expression she saw in those cool eyes was polite, but was also searching, with a funny look. 

“My lady, welcome to the Royal Ball. I hope you enjoy it.” He bent down and kissed her gloved hand and Christiana nodded and murmured smoothly, proud that her voice wasn’t shaking, “Thank you Your Highness. It is an honor.” She started to bow, then remembered she was a lady and a guest here. She curtsied and started to walk away, eyeing the platters of delicious looking exotic chocolate treats, when Prince Alan touched her shoulder gently, turning her back to face him. The prince nodded at the musicians, who began to play a slow song. “May I have this first dance?” He asked, his voice entreating her to say yes, as though the honor of dancing with this partner would be his. She nodded dumbly and followed him to the center of the dance floor. People parted when they saw the prince, and many girls stared at the two. The musicians played, fiddles resonating sweet, slow melodies that drew her into the magic of the wonderful night. He moved her hand to his shoulder and held her other hand loose but sure in his own. Christiana blushed. They were very close together and she felt warm, her heart pounding at the realization she had. She was dancing with the prince! Who would believe a commoner and a servant would be dancing with the prince? 

He leaned down close to her ear and whispered, “You are very beautiful tonight, Lady Christiana.  You are far more suited to dresses than to a servants attire.” She blushed fiercely. So he had recognized her. Now she felt embarrassed and doubtful. What was she doing? She didn’t belong here. She and the prince were standing still, his body still bent to her height as he whispered in her ear. She realized the song had ended a new one had begun, but they simply stood there. “Shouldn’t you be a good host and entertain more than one guest, your Highness?” she said lightly, but he just looked at her seriously. “I am the prince. I can do what I want. And I wish to dance with you, for you are charming.” 

She was just wondering how she could politely decline the invitation, or maybe it was a command, of a prince, when the king and queen gestured for him to go to them. “Excuse me,” he said, walking over to his parents. Christiana watched them while standing at the edge of the dance floor. Princess Aria sidled up and asked her, eyes flashing coyly, “So, did he asked yet?You look so beautiful. My brother is completely smitten, I just know it!” She said happily and confidently, sure of her success in having Christiana gain the prince’s attention. 

Her cheeks were flushed with her excitement and they both looked at the subject of their conversation. He had just finished talking and was walking back over to her. She turned to comment to Aria but she had mysteriously disappeared the moment she had locked eyes with Prince Alan.

“Come with me,” he said, pulling her out onto the nearby balcony. The evening air was cool, the sky dark with its tiny spots of light twinkling in the black folds of night. Candles sat on the railing around them, and Christiana had a feeling this had been set up specifically in case the prince wanted some quiet time. Two guards stood inside the room, blocking the door from anyone else. Red and white rose petals were scattered on the smooth marble floor and Christiana didn’t like where this “romantic mood” was going. 

Her stomach flopped when he got down on one knee. “No no no!” She tried to speak, but the words seemed to be caught in her choked up throat. He looked into her eyes, his own green ones shining splendidly, looking like one of the stars she looked up at desperately. “Will you marry me?” 

He must have expected a tearful gasp of joy and a definite yes, for when she looked at him in horror, he stared uncomprehendingly, confused. “No! I-I can’t!” She said the words feverishly, wrenched her hands from his and turned away, feeling guilty at her loud refusal. The Prince of Chevall had just asked her to marry him. Any other girl would have said yes, but she just didn’t love him. He was handsome enough, but her heart was with Peter, who’s promise still tingled on her lips at the thought. Why would a prince want to marry her anyways? “Christiana. What did you say?” He looked puzzled, his face scrunched up in a confused expression that did not to detract from his handsome features. She guessed he’d never been turned down or told no before.

Then his expression cleared, as he stood up, sure of himself once again. “Well, you have to marry me. Both of my parents have agreed that you are the most beautiful girl tonight, besides my sister of course.” Christiana should have felt honored, but all she felt was sick to her stomach. “We must carry on a beautiful line. Just think of what our sons will look like! We will have many sons, many heirs to continue down our generations! You and I make a perfect, beautiful couple.”  His gaze was adoring and innocent. He wanted to marry her so that they could have pretty kids? That was it? She felt irritation rise in her at his shallow reason. Peter had loved her for her heart, regardless of her beauty or anything else. She didn’t need a handsome prince. Any man could be handsome to her if he loved her for who she was, not just because of her outward appearance. Prince Alan didn’t actually love her, she knew, he was simply fulfilling his duty as the soon to be king in need of pretty heirs, she thought bitterly. Her decision to not marry him was strengthened and she shook her head. “No, you don’t understand, I won’t marry you,” she tried to say, but just then Aria bounded up at that moment, interrupting her refusal. “Yes! You finally asked her Alan! Now we’ll be related!” She squealed happily and bounced around, her dress moving around in her excitement. 

They dragged Christiana back in, dazed and confused, so that the prince could announce their betrothal to the room. Many girls looked crestfallen, and Christiana tried to protest, but he pulled her aside. “I realize this is a shock, you don’t get asked for your hand in marriage from a prince everyday, but hey, you’ll get used to it in a bit.” He gave her a condescending, understanding and patient smile, to her growing annoyance. 

He went on speaking, even when she mutely shook her head and tried to remove herself from his strong embrace. “We shall have to move you to chambers befitting my bride, the future queen of Chevall,” he said thinking out loud. He smiled broadly. “Aria told me that you’ve been previously quartered with the servants,” he said with distaste. “I apologize for that inconvenience. She sends her apologies and is getting your real rooms ready. Ah, and so they are,” he said as he caught the eye of a servant waving to him from outside of the ball room. 

He led her out of the Royal Ball, ignoring her struggles, as though he couldn’t feel them, for he was a very strong prince. Disappointed girls now began eying nearby couriers and noblemen, giggling as they would make eye contact. Soon the dance floor was filled with couples, and Christiana looked back despairingly at the gaiety that left her feeling only miserable.

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He showed her to her new quarters and Christiana made sure to memorize how to get there. She noticed that the door had a ruby on it, and knew that Aria had probably gotten servants and craftsmen to place it in ahead of time, so confident was she that she knew he would ask for her hand in marriage. Christiana walked into the huge room, her eyes wide in astonishment. It was covered in silver and gold. A large bed with sheer pale curtains hung from the ceiling around it was covered in rose petals. A fountain in one corner bubbled with water and she gasped when she saw that real red rubies were gleaming from the bottom of the basin of water, creating a shimmery, red aura in the water. 

“This is my room?” she asked in complete surprise. The prince mistook her amazed look and thought she was displeased. “There is also a private room for bathing and I could send for some refreshments if you are hungry,” he said anxiously. “Ah, no I am all right,” she replied hurriedly. “Actually, I’d almost rather stay in the servants quarters for now. I’m not sure--” The prince looked horrified at that thought and said quickly, “No way. I won’t allow my fiancee to stay in such a demeaning and humbly dirty abode! What will the people think? We’ll be married soon enough anyways,” he said brightly. 

He left her to get comfortable in her new surroundings and she wondered if he was always so dense. Prince Alan always looked so regal and confidently wise in paintings, how sad to know he wasn’t really that wise and good. Then again, she thought, the family wouldn’t be pleased if a painter portrayed the Royal family negatively. She sank wearily onto the plush bed that sank slightly under her weight. The room was so big and filled with pretty glass things, and she didn’t want to walk around, afraid she might break something. She found an oak wardrobe and opened it to find an array of costly and rich looking gowns. Christiana had no doubt Aria had ordered them specially fit for her ahead of time from her seamstress.

It was lonely, she thought, and the big room seemed empty to her. Even with all of the expensive and decorative elements put into it, it was cold and distant and delicately fragile, not at all like her humble home back in Tatira. Thinking of it made her heart ache with homesickness. She couldn’t bring herself to eat any of the sugary foods a servant had carried in for her. Her stomach was tossing and turning with all of the turmoil in her mind. It felt like she was a prisoner, doomed to marry this unloving prince, and unable to escape. She longed to be an invisible servant again, or better yet, an innocent, naive young girl in a village where their world was untainted by the fears and commands of the cities and their kings and queens.

“I’ll tell the king and queen tomorrow that I can’t marry their son,” she said aloud, her voice echoing and bouncing off the mirrors on her ceiling. She slipped out of the silk dress, regretting ever putting it on. Now she was furious with herself and sad at the same time. She should have known Princess Aria would sway her family in favor of her. Of course she hadn’t thought of what to do if the prince proposed. She slept restlessly that night, only a small ray of hope in her thoughts that the king would realize they’d make a mistake. There was still time to choose another girl, the guests in the castle would stay at least a week to pay their respects to the king.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As it turned out, the queen and king were pulled into busy court orders and such, that they had no time to talk to her. She moped about her quarters and wondered what to do. Belle visited her every day, bringing her food and making her feel better. She fell asleep, hoping that soon she’d be able to right the mistake that had been made before, and she hoped that they hadn’t forgotten about her, shut up in her rooms.

She woke the next morning to a servant pulling open thick curtains and revealing the bright sun. Christiana waved her hand sluggishly, mumbling protestingly. “Let me sleep a little more,” she scrambled to remember where she was, unused to the comfortable pillows and cushy bed. She groaned from under her thick and warm coverlet, her eyes squeezed shut in the blinding light that invaded her warm nest of sleep. “Miss Christiana, you must get up. You are expected in the Throne Room in thirty minutes time.” Christiana jumped up at that. “Oh no, really? What will I wear? She looked for the red dress she’d carelessly left on the floor, but the maid had already put it away. “Oh you didn’t have to do that,” she said, as she surveyed the spotless room and the neatly put away clothes. “It’s my job, miss,” the servant said simply 

She held out a gown for Christiana to put on and helped her step into it. It was a fancy dress, she thought. Only slightly less fancy than the one she’d worn last night. She didn’t want to wear it, and felt ridiculous in the rich dress that didn’t suit her poor background, but she also didn’t want to show disrespect by appearing underdressed, “You are a darling, for helping me,” she said appreciatively, as the girl quickly and quietly made her look presentable. The girl touched up her makeup that had smeared in the night and made her slightly wavy hair nice. Christiana nibbled on a sweet, ripe pear and asked her, “What is your name?” “I am Sara. I am happy to serve you, and I have been assigned to care for you and your quarters as long as you stay here,” she said, her voice polite but distant. Christiana felt awkward, not knowing what else to say to the silent maid. 

Thankfully, the awkward silence was interrupted by a knocking on the door. Princess Aria stood outside, a huge smile on her face. “Your Highness,” Christiana said, trying to bow and curtsy while standing up all at the same time, dropping her pear which the maid picked up carefully. It ended with her clumsily staggering up while Aria laughed her tinkling laugh and grabbed her hands joyfully. “You need not curtsy anymore for we are almost equals, or we will be once we both become queens!” Then the two were off and she took the reluctant Christiana to the Throne room, Aria chatting all the way. 

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Guards were posted around the quiet room and Christiana gulped as they opened the doors to the Throne Room, where petitioners could have their pleas heard. Could she really tell the fierce looking king and queen that she didn’t want to marry their son? She took a deep breath and stepped forward, thinking determinedly to herself, its for Peter, its for me. After brief formalities were exchanged, the king smiled broadly and welcomed her warmly, saying, “Come closer, my daughter. You seem to have much on your mind. Say what you will, you are among family.” 

She laughed nervously as she stood before the golden thrones. “I, um. I don’t think I’m really ready to marry. My family has no idea what’s happened and I don’t even really know the prince. I only just met him yesterday you see, and there are so many more girls that are far more eligible and worthy of being his queen,” she babbled hurriedly until the queen held up her hand, laughing kindly at Christiana’s nervous words. “Woah there. I realize you are quite nervous, but my husband and I strongly believe that you are a perfect match for our son. I am going to send messengers to your father and mother with the news and plenty of gifts to satisfy their questions and show our intentions. They will be happy to know they need no dowry, for King Geoffrey has titled land to you and Alan once you are married,” she said smiling proudly. 

Christiana tried to speak, but then stopped, knowing better than interrupting the queen when she began to speak again. “Yes, this proposal was very fast and unexpected, so for the next few weeks you and the prince can spend lots of time together to get to know each other. Then we’ve decided to schedule the official marriage in time for the Fall Festival at the end of summer. I’m sure we will all have a lovely rest of the summer. Oh look, here’s my lovely son as we speak!”

She looked miserably to where Prince Alan entered. Before she could speak up, the queen pushed her towards him, smiling. “Go on you too, have a lovely afternoon together. The cook has prepared a meal for you while you’re out. And then we will have a banquet tonight in honor your betrothal.” 

Christiana stumbled and tripped in her long dress and the prince caught her and set her upright. Belle suddenly appeared at her side with a basket and told her, “This is for your afternoon meal if you get hungry,” she said formally and distantly, her eyes downcast. Then she whispered to her a quick, her voice empathetic, “I’m sorry.” She knew of Christiana’s love Peter and her eyes showed such deep sympathy that Christiana almost started crying, but she remembered she was in the Throne Room in the presence of the entire Royal Family, and held it in. Belle drifted into the background as a servant took them out to where a coach waited for them. 

White horses in gold bridles and golden reins were attached to the brightly golden carriage. A coachman in a fine suit sat above, holding the reins. When he saw the two coming up, he jumped out and opened the door for them. The prince helped her in and then got in beside her. She hoped he would sit opposite of her, but he slid in right next to her, his arm going around her shoulders in an uncomfortably familiar way. She fought the urge to push his arm and tried to relax, which was impossible with her tense body.

They rode in silence, the carriage only bumping a few times, until she felt the coach stop. The coachman stood beside their door again and helped her out. Christiana saw that she stood in a beatuiful garden. Flowers lined a stepping stone path and she smiled, taking in the wonderful scent of a lilac, recalling how aromatic and soothing being outdoors was. “I heard you liked flowers, so I thought I’d bring you to the Royal Gardens.” She frowned, annoyed that she’d showed she was pleased to be outdoors, knowing he would take it the wrong way. 

They sat in a small patch of grass outside of the flower beds after he showed her around the gardens. She opened the basket and was surprised to find that she was hungry. She tore in to a sandwich, deliciously fresh and tasty. The prince delicately tore his sandwich into small pieces, eating them one by one, and she felt a slight annoyance at his need for etiquette. Did he have to be so serious and formal all the time when it came to manners and everything? He handed her a wrapped gift and she looked at it stupidly. He opened it for her, and Christiana gasped as she saw the diamond pendant in it, a tear drop shaped diamond that gleamed in the sun. He placed it around her throat, his cool fingers brushing her neck. “This was handcrafted by the best jeweler in the city specially for you.” She sat there, feeling the weight of it on her throat. At least he hadn’t given her a ring, she though dismally.

Neither of them spoke after she mumbled a small thank you and they looked around in silence. She didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t seem to be offering any random shallow thoughts. A glint caught her eye as they sat there and she saw a crystal suddenly in front of her. “Well that’s weird, when did that get there?” She blinked at its appearance and looked curiously at the clear diamond. It must be worth a lot, she thought, as she detected no blemish or impurity. She handed it to the prince, who looked intrigued by it. “Hmm, that’s pretty. Hey, what’s that speck in it?” He pointed to the center of it, where he said he saw a red dot right in the center of it. She was confused, she didn’t see any spot. She said so and he looked at her, frustrated. “It’s right there! See? It’s getting bigger. Holy buckets, its completely turned the diamond purple, a swirling dark purple that--” he seemed to become distant and his voice trailed off as he stared at the white diamond that Christiana looked at confusedly.

She couldn’t see any purple at all, and she tapped him on the shoulder when he wouldn’t stop looking at it, mesmerized. He looked at her blankly, his eyes suddenly flashing purple, and then his eyes were normal. She blinked, not sure of what she had just seen. Then his expression relaxed and he laughed, a loud laugh that seemed too loud to her. “Ah you’re right, it’s just a clear diamond. I think I’m going to keep it though,” he said, his voice oddly loud and cheery. He tucked it into his pocket and then spent the rest of the time talking of boring castle news. 

Her eyes drifted to the pocket that held the diamond, an urge, something attracted it to her. She wanted it for some reason. Strange, she thought. Then the thoughts were gone as they looked up to see the coachman waving at them, telling them it was time to head back to the castle. 

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Servants were preparing for the banquet when they got back and Christiana paled. She’d almost forgotten about that, where they’d officially seal the betrothal with an engagement ring and the silken cords that would be tied on both of their hands, showing their promises. She had to tell him she couldn’t marry him now before it became official

She saw him and pulled him aside right before the banquet. She wore yet another costly gown along with his gift, and he looked handsome in his suit, but she ignored both the dress that got tangled around her feet and his handsome features in her frenzied need to tell him the truth. “Your Highness, I can’t do this.” He just smiled at her calmly. “It’s all right. All you have to do is say, “And to you I betroth myself,” it’s easy. We rehearsed these lines earlier.” She shook her head firmly. She had to say it now, she wouldn’t let them talk over her anymore. “No. I’m saying, I will not marry you. Ever. I love another!” She almost shouted her words in her desperation to get them out. He looked at her stunned. “You. Love someone else? How could you love anyone but me?” His voice was hushed, an almost dangerous whisper. His eyes grew hard. “You must marry me. It’s already been decided,” he said confidently. “No, I won’t. I said I won’t marry you, I just said that,” she said. One hand tore off the diamond pendant he had given her that morning and she threw it at him. “I’ve already told you I WON’T MARRY YOU! I love someone else and I’m tired of getting pushed around like a pretty toy to be bought for gold, living in fear for my life and knowing that I’m only here so you can have a beautiful line of children! I’m leaving and going home where I belong.” He looked shocked at her outburst, and people began looking at them strangely. He suddenly grew furious and she shrank back, then remembered she wasn’t going to do that anymore. He grabbed her arm, his nails digging into her arm painfully. “Ow, Prince Alan, let go of me,” “No,” he said. “See? I can say no too. And I say no, you won’t be leaving. You will marry me. Tomorrow,” he said decidedly. 

A chilling gleam came in his eyes, that dark purple she’d seen that afternoon completely taking over his usual innocent green ones. His grip on her arm would not relent and she felt like her hand was burning.  She cried out in pain. Where his hand touched hers seemed to be on fire, her flesh wrapped in purple fire from his hand. The commotion brought the attention of others and suddenly the purple fire disappeared, though his hand still painfully held onto her arm. The queen came over, looking worriedly at her son. “Come now Alan, you’re getting too upset. Let’s talk. What happened?” She placed her hand gently on his shoulder, but that only made him more angry. He pushed Christiana away as he turned on his mother. Christiana stumbled back and was forgotten as he began to yell at his mother, who stared at her strangely angry son. “You, all you want is riches and comfort. You never cared for me or Aria.”

He laughed, a high pitched, crazed laugh that made Christiana shudder. “You never even loved father either did you? You won his heart just because he was rich and a soon to be heir to the throne of a prosperous land. There you would have all the comforts you wanted. And all you had to do was produce an heir.” Suddenly his insane laughter stopped and he spoke again, his voice bitter and full of agony she had never heard before. “But you couldn’t even do that, could you?” The queen looked shocked, her face contorted in a grimace. “No! what, what are you talking about? Stop saying such things to your mother!”

He continued, worked into a frenzy. “You were barren. So you stole the baby of a servant, passed him off as your own, because you were afraid the king would be desperate enough to get a mistress to bear him a son. Of course, he actually did love you, whereas you just used him, but did that matter? No. Your plan brilliant, really.” He turned to his audience, bitterness in every word he spat out, then turned back to the ashen faced queen. “While the king was off fighting in a battle you knew could last for many months, you sent him word that you were pregnant, carrying his baby. But that was a lie, wasn’t it? You simply pretended, and only a few knew the truth. You kept up this lie, remaining in your rooms until your maidservant gave birth, and then you killed her and took her baby.

“I’m amazed the guilt didn’t eat your heart every time you looked at me! Of course, you’d have to have a conscience to do that.” Christiana gaped. He wasn’t a legitimate son? The story seemed too horrendous to be true. Would the queen really kill for an heir, a son to keep her position? It seemed it would be so, when the queen fell to her knees on the cold floor. She whispered in the completely silent room, “How-How did you know? I got rid of everyone who knew. I even made myself forget for the longest time.” The prince smiled slowly, enjoying her shock and pain at the memory. “Don’t ask me how I know, mother. I just do. I know all of your secrets, want me to tell more?” he whispered coyly, a broad smile on his face.

Princess Aria knelt by her mother, tears running down her face. “Is it true? Alan is not my brother? Am I a servant’s child as well?” Her mother shook her head, then nodded. “Well no, you were an orphan I found when you were a baby. Your eyes were as green as the baby boy I’d taken, and I thought the king would be thrilled to have a daughter as well.” She shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know who your parent’s are. Haven’t I been a good mother to you?” She pleaded with her daughter, who backed away slowly, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t know you,” she whispered before she fled. 

The queen sobbed as the prince watched his sister go, amusement in his eyes. “Do you enjoy my pain?” The queen asked icily and sarcastically. “Yes, actually, I do. It almost makes up for the lies of my entire life. Oh wait, no it doesn’t. The scars will always last, and the deaths of everyone you killed, covering up your lies for the sake of your security, their deaths are on your head.” The prince grinned sardonically, and the large crowd who watched the scene were wide eyed. They’d never seen the prince anything but calm and courteous and they’d never heard such a horrible story that could only be true it was so horrendous and affective it had made the queen break down and fall apart. 

Prince Alan was not himself. He was insane, his very features twisted and contorted, seeming like a demon of some sort, and Christiana wondered if she’d only imagined a forked tongue flicking between his bared lips and if his dilated eyes hadn’t really been slitted like a serpents. His eyes were feverish purple, darting around as he turned back to the frightened girl, who had hoped he had forgotten about her. He ignored the queen sobbing uncontrollably on the ground behind him as he yelled at Christiana.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She jumped back, scared of this prince. He advanced towards her and she cursed her dress that hindered her as she stumbled back. She fled when he came closer, trying to push through the frozen crowd that watched her slow progress. “Guards, seize her,” he said dramatically and calmly, as though he knew she wouldn’t get far. The soldiers and nearby men didn’t know what to do with this new man they were supposed to serve. Some of his quickly loyal men grabbed the running girl. She fought them, biting at any hands that got too close to her, but they soon overpowered her. 

The prince stepped forward confidently to her. He delicately touched her cheek, an act contradicting his feverish, angry and hyper state. He smiled darkly as she shuddered at his hands that were so cold, it seemed like he had frozen instantly. She searched his unblinkingly scary eyes that glared for some sign of sanity, but found nothing but anger and hatred. “You will marry me. Tomorrow. Do you understand? But now that I know you love another...I will have to take care of that.” He muttered thoughtfully, and Christiana gasped and then spat in his face. He merely smiled, slow and menacing, undaunted by her anger as he wiped the spittle from his face with one gloved hand. “Guards, we have to keep the future queen safe. Put her in her rooms and lock the doors. For her own safety of course, we have to take precautions,” he purred. 

He began to turn away but she stuck out her foot and tripped him. She felt some sick satisfaction as he stumbled and landed on the floor. Then she saw it, that diamond again. She somehow knew it was important as it shimmered on the floor. It rolled from his pocket and gently stopped next to her foot. She glanced around, then grabbed it, hiding it in the folds of her dress when the men holding her raced to help their prince up. He shook off their helping hands in rage and growled at them. “Leave me, I’m fine. Just take her away you stupid boys. Did you forget your job already? If you lose sight of her once,” he glared at them hard to get his point across, as he pointed at them menacingly, “I will have your heads on platters the instant I hear. So you better take good care of our princess here.” 

They hurriedly ran back to Christiana, as though she might have tried to run in the two seconds they’d left her side. She saw the king entering the large room and tried to cry out to him, but one of the men stuck his big hand over her mouth, and her muffled shouts were unheard. All the king saw was his weeping wife and arrogant son standing over her. He confronted the insane, unreasonable son who now shouted at him, his next victim. He was yelling at anyone within his reach, and she saw the king visibly shake when the prince said something about taxing too much. He must have told one of his secrets out loud to the world, and the father and son began to argue. Everyone around them skittered off, tiring of the amusement of watching this crazed prince, and hoping they wouldn’t be the next in the line of fire. They scurried out of the room, trying not to be seen or heard by the angry and broken family. Queen Alexia had joined in the argument and now the king, queen, and son all yelled at each other, and Christiana thought she saw tongues of purple fire sparking in the center of them. Then her guards pulled her away into an empty corridor, practically dragging her along.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They brought her back to her big rooms and dumped her unceremoniously onto the hard floor of her fancy quarters. She heard them lock the door, a loud click as it shut, and then the clank of boots. She heard whispers as she pressed her ear against the door. The soldiers, frightened of her escaping and of having their heads rolling, had stationed themselves outside of her door. 

Christiana paced, angrily distressed. She did have to escape, but how? She tiptoed eagerly to the balcony in one of her adjoining rooms. But to her dismay, she realized she was at least three or four stories above the ground. She leaned over the railing, craning her head to look down. There were a few vines, but she doubted they would hold her weight, and she wasn’t very agile. She would break her neck if she tried to jump. Then again, if there was no option, could she do it? Jump so she wouldn’t have to marry the prince? She doubted she’d have the courage to take her own life and sighed. Shivering, she went back into the warmer rooms. 

She hadn’t realized it had gotten so late. They had missed supper, and her stomach grumbled. She sat there and thought for hours, trying to figure out what to do. A knock made her jump and she looked surprisedly at the door. The guards would let her have visitors? She moved towards it until she realized it hadn’t come from the door. She turned back to the balcony and saw a head pop up over the railing. It was Gregory, she smiled joyfully. He’d know what to do. He hoisted himself over the railing, panting after his long climb, and jumped gracefully into her rooms. His face was unusually serious, his expression tense and fearful. “What’s happened?” Christiana asked anxious to know what the prince would do now. She handed him a glass of cool water that he gulped down. “The prince went on a rampage. He was angry that you loved someone else besides him. He thought maybe it was one of the mall attendants. So he gathered all the male attendants in the castle, and...” he hesitated. Christiana looked at him and whispered, her voice rising in pitch. “He killed them?!” Gregory shook his head, and she sank back, relieved. “Don’t be so relaxed. He hasn’t killed them, yet. When I snuck a look, he was interrogating them one by one, trying to figure out who your lover was.” 

He looked grim, and Christiana bit back her tears. “I have to tell him to stop!” Gregory grabbed her arm as she tried to run to the door. Her expression was panicked and confused and disoriented as he pulled her back down. “I have to alert the guards. If they take me to the prince, surely he’ll stop hurting all of those innocent servants!” Gregory shook his head fiercely. “No, you can’t. Right now we have to get you out. And he hasn’t actually killed them yet. Talking to him will not help at all. He’s completely unreasonable now and quick to anger. The Grand Vizier tried to talk some sense into him and he cut off his head in that instant with his sword.” He looked grimly at the ground. “There has been blood shed, and there will be more, whether or not your love is found,” he said sensibly.

She looked dismally at the ground. “What can we do?” Gregory began grabbing fruit out of a bowl in the center of the room and putting them into his pocket. He handed an apple to her and said calmly. “Eat and wait.” She protested and threw away the fruit and it rolled on the ground. “How could I eat at a time like this? This is serious! A man has died because of the prince and my folly!” 

He picked it up and brushed it off, inspecting a small bruise on the apple from its fall. “I know. But if you go fainting on me cause you didn’t eat anything, that won’t really help you in escaping will it? And it wasn’t your fault. From what I’ve heard he was easily aggravated all night before you talked to him.” She grudgingly saw his point as her stomach roared loudly and she bit into the sweet apple, unable to savor its sweet taste in her anxiousness. “What are we waiting for?” Gregory went to the door and listened, then waved her over, putting a finger to his lips to make sure she would keep quiet. She nodded and pressed her ear against the cool wood, listening as the guards chatted nonchalantly. They were more relaxed now that they were not in the line of fire from the prince, sure that the girl couldn’t escape. 

Belle walked up to them, carrying a wine cask. “I have wine for the lady. The queen told me to take it to her, its the best aged wine she could find, and she wanted to soothe her with some nice wine,” she said importantly. The guards looked at each other and then back at her warily. “I don’t know if the prince would want us to let you in.” Belle rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, like a little wine would hurt her. Maybe it’d even loosen her up and make her more accepting about the whole marriage thing.” 

The guards hadn’t eaten before the prince had blown up and now looked hungrily at the wine cask in her arms, licking their lips at the thought of wine. “What kind of wine did you say that was?” “Oh its mulled wine, imported from Litacia, the famous winery way down south, it’s really expensive and rich,” she said sweetly. “Hmm, you know, we should taste test it, make sure it’s not poisoned.” He pretended to look gravely concerned as he took it from the protesting girl’s arms. Opening it, he took a big swig and sighed. “That is the best wine I have ever had!” “Lemme try,” the other guard begged. They passed it between the two of them, taking turns guzzling the rich and spicy wine. Ignoring Belle’s protests, they drank every drop, laughing between drinks. “You’re right, this is very good wine!” 

Belle stormed off angrily and the men finished off the cask, wiping their hands across their mouths and laughing ebulliently. Christiana sighed on the other side of the door, slumping against it tiredly. “Well, she tried. Those men were mean, but maybe she’ll find another excuse to get in. I don’t even like wine anyways,” she said hopelessly. Gregory winked mischievously and grinned. “It’s all part of the plan,” he said mysteriously. 

Sure enough, a little bit later, the door opened quietly, and Belle peeked her head in. She waltzed in smiling and Christiana looked at her confusedly. “How did you get in? What about the guards?” She looked over Belle’s shoulder at the guards, who were now both flopped on the ground, sound asleep and snoring. “I might have doctored up that wine a little bit. I got some sleeping medicine from the castle physician and put it in. I knew they’d drink it, they just couldn’t resist,” she said nonchalantly, very knowledgeable in this area of expertise it would seem.

She smugly looked at the men behind her, snorting in their sleep. “Pleasant dreams,” she said snidely as she pushed the door closed on them. Then she turned serious, remembering why they were there. “You have to get out of here. You must return to your village, Tatira. The prince and his men are just about to leave themselves to go.” Christiana was puzzled. “Why is he gong there? He’s got me here. Is he going to get my family since we’re to be married tomorrow?” 

Belle looked at her sorrowfully. “Elena, that girl who came with you and the other girls here, told him about Peter. The prince was beating the servants, trying to pry information out of them and she confessed that she knew the man you loved and how he was back at home. She was just trying to save her life, but in the end, it was fruitless. He beheaded her the instant she told him, angry for being fooled for so long, having searched for your love here for hours, and then went into a mad flurry of activity, rushing his men about, preparing them for the few days ride to Tatira. 

They looked at each other, horrified. Christiana did not hesitate after that. She practically ran from the room, and probably would have pounded down the corridors if Belle and Gregory hadn’t warned her to be quiet and pulled her back from running out the front doors. There were still guards posted in the halls and so they had to tiptoe around, looking carefully around each corner. They almost ran straight into a pair of soldiers patrolling, when Christiana saw the kitchen door and sprinted for it. Gregory had to tackle her and hold her back, and they dived behind a half open door when they saw the soldiers. They walked, talking, right by the three scared fugitives. She was sure her heart was beating so loudly that they could hear her, and she was sure she would hear them yelling at them to stop, but they didn’t. They walked by and all three people sighed with relief. 

Belle then directed them through the kitchen in the servant’s entrances. They snuck out onto the palace grounds and into the dimly lit stable. They huddled behind bales of hay and whispered to each other in hushed tones. “I have got two horses here all saddled and ready to go. Just ride straight through the forest once you get out of the gate I’ll show you. It should lead straight to the mountains, and hopefully the prince will take all of the main roads and trails so you won’t run into him.” 

“Two?” Christiana asked as they crouched in the stable. “Yes. I’m coming with you,” Gregory said. “I’ve been craving an adventure, I’ve always wanted to die a hero,” he said, the attempted joke inn his voice light, but the joke was feeble and no one laughed because of how close his was to close to reality, and the seriousness of the situation. “Besides,” he said serious again, “You will need help fighting a full battalion of the Prince’s trained guards.”

She hadn’t thought of what she’d do once she got there, and she didn’t have time to argue, so she nodded quickly. It would be better to have someone by her side when she faced the prince. Maybe she could sneak Peter away before he got there. But then she realized the prince would probably just kill her parents in revenge as well, she wondered how they would beat them but she had the whole ride there to figure it out. They didn’t get on the horses at first, for fear they would be seen, and just led them silently out into the city. It was quiet, being night, and they took back alleys and deserted streets to the edge of the walled city. They walked along it’s edge, carefully keeping an eye out for any patrol, but there were none because the prince had enlisted most of those men to go with him. 

They made it to an old, rusted gate embedded in the big stones of the city wall and Belle unlocked the ancient, warped wood gate. “it hasn’t been used in years. No one should notice.” She pushed it open as the two got on their horses. The creaky gate swung open and they looked gratefully at Belle, who stood beside their horses. “Thank you so much Belle. If I get out of this alive, I’ll owe you so much.” “Anything for a friend. Now hurry! I wish you the best of luck,” she spoke quietly and then turned to Gregory. “Come back safely and swiftly,” she whispered softly, blushing in the pale moonlight. Gregory nodded at her, his face a calm mask, a face that had grown up years before its time. He looked down at her and touched her head, a gentle gesture of comfort to the anxious girl. “I will. Stay out of sight and safe. Don’t let anyone find out you helped us. I’ll come back when it is over. Don’t you worry.”

Belle watched as the two galloped away. Christiana turned and waved, looking back at the figure disappearing into the night, then turned to face forrward. She put her head down, shielding herself from the night cold in the horses warm mane. They went as fast as they could push their horses to go, the hoofbeats evenly hitting the ground, pounding up a beaten trail, barely distinguishable in the dark night. The path led into the forest, and she was grateful to not be in the open anymore, afraid that at any minute the prince would suddenly show up and drag her away. The horsse weaved between the trees, always finding the path again. 

It was good to be outdoors again, she thought, to be freed from the confines of the castle was nice. But she was too anxious to care very much at that moment. The prince wouldn’t just kill a man in cold blood would he? Was that even legal? Her heart almost stopped in fear. “Please, please, please,” she begged the night sky, “Let him be safe. Let me reach him in time.” She spurred her horse faster and almost cried in relief when she saw the familiar mountain. They had made good time, the route home much faster with only two adults on horseback, whereas the trip there had been slow and difficult with the doubled up horses and children, but she felt like they were going too slow, that the prince would make it there before she could warn them, though she knew it would take longer with a lot of men.

She tried to press her lathered horse faster, even as it began climbing the steep mountain. The well worn trails were slippery in the cold, but she still tried to make her horse go faster. Gregory came up beside her and pulled the reins back on both of their horses. “We have to slow down. If we go too fast, the horses will tire out. And its slippery up here, it’d be bad if they fell and broke a leg, or worse, kill us all. This trail hasn’t been used recently, and it’s the only mountain pass accessible a lot of the time, right?” She nodded, and he continued, “So it looks like the prince hasn’t gotten here yet, there aren’t any tracks. We have time for our own safety.” She shuddered and knew she had better heed his words if she wanted to make it back at all. They led their horses up the steepest parts of the mountain, climbing over large rocks that jutted out, and avoiding the small shrubs that stood trying to trip them. 

Finally they made it up to the top. The sun was just starting to rise by the time they got there, a lazy ball of light slowly creeping up the horizon, but they had no chance to revel in the morning’s beautiful glory. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They made it down more quickly than they’d gone up, going carefully and safely and then got back on their horses, riding full tilt into the surprised, wakening village. The tailor, the first one to peek out of his doorway at the sound of their horses galloping in. He smiled when he saw Christiana waving madly. 

She pulled the reins, and jumped off in front of her home. It was so good to be home. She felt that familiar ache of home sickness disappear in her joy. Her mother was the first to come out, she came out squinting, looking curiously outside for the disturbance in the quiet morning. Then she saw Christiana and she couldn’t believe it at first. “My baby? Christiana?” “Yes its me mother!” The two ran into each others arms, hugging and crying. Her father stepped out and looked at her, love in his dark eyes. He seemed to have aged so much since she had seen him, though it had barely been a year. He crushed her in a fierce embrace, tears pricking his old eyes.

She introduced them to Gregory, and was babbling excitedly when Gregory put a hand on her shoulder. He looked at her grimly, reminding her why she came with that one glance. Her face fell instantly. “Where’s Peter?” She looked around frantically, then stopped when she saw him. The man who invaded her dreams, the golden brown hair and the serious amber eyes stared at her with shock. They smoldered with bursting emotions as the wood he’d been holding dropped from his hands with a clatter. It fell to the ground, forgotten as he stared at her. 

She was as beautiful as ever to him. She was the same girl he’d fallen in love with a year ago, and yet she was different, older. Her dark eyes were almost the color of obsidian, and joy emanated from them, those sparkling eyes that stared back into his own. There was a hint of blue to her black eyes, a dark blue like a night sky, a luminescent array of mystery, that shimmered like the deep blue crevasses of an ocean. Her lips were red like a rose in full bloom and her cheeks had a tinge of pink from the cold that sent little clouds puffing around her mouth and nose. 

Her skin was not as dark as it used to be, paler from her time indoors, he noted, but she remained as strong as ever, a gentle contrast against the smooth lines of her face. An aura of love shone out from her and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. They say that distance makes the heart grows fonder. This must certainly be true, for he felt feelings of love overwhelming him.  They embraced, their parents looking on knowingly. “Oh I have so much to tell you! I had no idea that you would be back so soon. The king let you come back?” Christiana paused in her adoration of seeing her Peter again and then looked stricken. “Oh that’s just it, Peter, you have to get out of here!” She pushed him away frantically and he stumbled back, looking confused. 

He was about to reply when another person spoke first. “Ah Christiana Emory. Thank you so much for meeting me here.” She whirled around to see Prince Alan skulking in the shadows. He stepped into the light, looking as sinister as ever, if not more evil and dark looking. “You’ve made my job so much easier, leading me straight to Peter and all,” he continued, his voice oily and deep. He looked disdainfully at the boy in his threadbare vest and grungy shirt and pants. Peter bristled at his condescending look and stood protectively in front of Christiana, who cowered, frightened of this monster.

“So you are the one Christiana loves hmm?” He continued his look over Peter. “Not much to look at. What did she see in this village idiot? She could have had me all to herself, rich and powerful, but no, she clung to this guy.” He was completely ignoring the boy now, pretending to talk to himself. He turned back to Peter, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Did you know that you’re love is actually marrying me tomorrow?” He glanced up and then said, “Oh wait, it’s already tomorrow,” he laughed. 

Christiana shook her head, trying to reassure Peter, who looked at her, shock and pain clearly portrayed in his eyes. Then his eyes cleared, because he trusted her, knew she was telling the truth. Was he so easily doubting her? He had been a fool, thinking that she might have cheated, that she might have fell in love with the prince of Chevall, and who was this prince anyways? This rich looking man was evil and creepy. He looked at the prince and yelled, “You’re lying. She’d never marry you.” The prince only smiled and said pityingly, “Ah yes, because you’re both in love,” he cooed tauntingly. “Don’t worry, thats my next order of business. It’s a shame, really, to have to kill you. But it’s for the best. My best, that is.”

He toyed with a silver dagger by his side and Christiana gasped, “Peter, run! He’s going to kill you!” She ran forward, but he anticipated her sacrificial thought and at a nod, two soldiers suddenly appeared out of the forest behind him. They held her back from Peter. At that, her mother and father were indignant and Christiana realized that the townspeople had silently materialized around them, some carrying rifles, others butcher knives, and all carried the same meaning and warning. “Please leave, your Highness. You are not wanted here and Christiana isn’t marrying you, as she said so herself,” the towns burly blacksmith said, gripping an axe in his big hands firmly. 

The prince seemed undaunted and rightly so, for at his command, the townspeople found themselves surrounded by at least fifty soldiers with their guns pointed at them. They all shuffled inward as the circle closed in on them. “Drop those things you would like to call weapons, or I’ll have to hurt you all, and that is not what I want. All I want is the return of my bride and the death of her love.” An emotionless smile played across his lips as they dropped everything with a clatter. Christiana saw a flash of silver as he threw the dagger, and she screamed, still held by the two soldiers. Then the soldiers dropped her in astonishment. She was surprised as well when she glanced down and saw the dagger sticking out of her own chest. Blood poured out of the wound and she fell to her knees on the ground. 

Peter and her parents rushed over to her and laid her gently on the ground. When Peter pulled the silver dagger out, a thin stream of silver mixed in her wound. “Poison. The most efficient kind, formed by the Magics,” the prince said calmly, unfazed. “I thought you wanted to kill me? Why did you kill her?” “Whoops, guess I changed my mind. You don’t seem to understand. I had every intention of killing you, until I smelled magic on her. Then I realized that your little lady here had stolen my Diamond and I grew quite angry.” He glared balefully at Christiana who was choking on blood. It bubbled up in her throat and she coughed, sending streams of blood and silver onto the ground. Peter wiped it off of her face and looked at the prince in confusion and complete hatred. “What diamond? If I give it to you will you heal her? If you know Magic, you can heal her right?”

He laughed at the boy’s meager pleas. “We’ll see. You can’t give it to me. Only she can. And she has to give it out of her free will or its useless to me.” He muttered and spat angrily. “Give it to me or I will kill Peter,” he barked at her. “Oh come on, you’re not dead yet. Tell me where it is. I can smell it’s magic from here! Is it on your person? Or perhaps in your saddlebags?” Christiana coughed up more blood and almost choked, unable to speak. She gestured helplessly to her hidden pocket in the now stained dress. 

She expected the prince to grab it and run away, but he didn’t. He opened the pocket, carefully ripping the seams so he could see it with his still bloody dagger. The look in his eyes was greedy, the purple swirling like a nauseating black hole. “Ah, the White Diamond. How I’ve searched for you. So long...” he crooned, staring at the diamond like it was his favorite pet. He reached in and touched it, so greedy was he that he forgot his own warning. He jerked his hand back with a yell. “It burned me!” Christiana suddenly felt like she had been burnt as well and she convulsed, screaming. Purple fire was lacing its way around her body, choking off her air, burning her alive. 

Pain shot through every cell in her body, something was eating away at her. “It hurts, it hurts,” she moaned and shrieked in turns, rolling around, trying to stop it. Hot tears streaked down her dirty cheeks as her vision grew darker. She could barely see through hazy eyes and vainly pulled at the flickering purple shapes around her, trying to pull them off. But she couldn’t grasp them and they grew tighter and tighter. She thought she would surely perish then, and wished death to come quickly, when it suddenly stopped. 

Christiana lay, still in agony, but the flames had disappeared. Her vision began to clear and she looked up to see Peter standing above her, the purple fire in his palms, as though he had caught it and wrapped it in a ball. “Magic?” she gasped between ragged breaths. “I never got to tell you.” He looked so sad, and tears dripped down his cheeks. “Stay still. This will hurt a little.” He closed his eyes and began chanting something she didn’t understand. She lay there and it felt as though her body was being drawn out of itself with his words. His words were smooth and inviting, like an invisible force was pulling her out of her physical skin. 

She watched, detached, and oddly painless now, as her body lay unmoving on the ground. As she looked on, Peter muttered more words and she watched, mesmerized, as a blue green fire seemed to come from his chest, snaking around the purple fire. It was like the two fires fought each other, the blue trying to circle it and push the purple into a small ball, while the purple tried to fight it and expand. Finally the blue completely covered the purple and all she could see was the flickering blue green flames.

Then Peter seemed to pull something from within himself, and from his chest he brought out a crystal heart, like a pretty trinket one would find in the market. It was covered in the blue fire, that seemed to radiate from the core of the heart. She realized this must be the magic in him. She had heard stories about how magic was found in people, how it came from the deepest emotions in a person and his was in his heart. As she watched, he held the blue heart in his hand, while the ball of blue fire hovered in the air. She vaguely wondered where the townspeople and soldiers and prince had gone, but then forgot it as she watched Peter reach towards her still form. 

He concentrated, sweat trickling down his brow as he focused. He hovered his hand over her chest where her heart was and from it she watched as a red crystal came from her unmoving chest and floated gently into his hand. It was a crystal heart like his, but with purple flames dancing around it. The purple flames were trying to consume everything and she almost cried out a warning, but she couldn’t, and she saw that he had control. He touched the hearts together and hers flared up in a brilliant light so bright she couldn’t see for a few seconds. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she opened her eyes, she found herself staring at the morning sky, back in her body. What had just happened? She rolled over and stood up, surprised to feel no pain. She touched her hand to her chest, to her heart, and it felt normal, but what did she know about magic? She was trying to gather her thoughts when she realized Peter was laying at her feet and she fell to her knees by his side as he lay still on the ground, seeming to be barely alive. “Oh Peter, what happened? Are you okay?” “I’m dying Christiana. Your heart was tainted by the prince’s evil. I used most of my magic to transport him far away so he couldn’t hurt you, but his evil was slowly eating your heart and destroying it. I gave you my heart, because I love you. You are my everything, and I would not bear to see you die. Magic came to me for this, so that I could save you, of that I am sure. They say that magic comes at the time you need it most, and so it has.”

His voice was growing fainter, though he tried to smile, and his face grew paler with every moment. She knelt over him, crying. “Can’t you do what you did for me and live?” “No, the heart with evil had to be destroyed. I dissolved it, because there was no other way. Live for me. For I will live with you, in your heart.” He tried to touch her heart, but his hand only twitched weakly. “But, but your magic! Surely you can do something!” She was so desperate. Why did he have to save her and lose his own life in the process? He shook his head. “I can’t. The magic is trying to keep me alive, but without a heart that won’t happen, and even the magic cannot create another heart. The magic is already fading from me.” 

She wailed, “But I can’t live without you! Why would you do this to me? Give me back life in trade for my own when YOU are my life and I’ll die beside you rather than let you die alone?” He shook his head, trying to speak loudly, “NO, don’t you dare. Would you make my sacrifice for you in vain?” Tears came into his own eyes, and she could see fear in them, but also love. “Are you afraid?” She held his hand, and he nodded. “I think that everyone fears death. We try to cheat death, and it works, sometimes, for a little while. But there is a balance. One must return to the dust so that another can rise from it. I would gladly die so you can live. This is for you, so I am not afraid. You are by me.” His voice was barely a whisper now and she couldn’t stop sobbing over him.

The life was fading out of him, his breaths were coming slowly and weakly, as he strained for another ragged breath. She held his hand and he squeezed it as tightly as he could with his remaining strength. Then she leaned down and took his last breath. Her lips lifted from his cold ones, and she watched as a few faint sparks of blue fire floated up from his lips and touched her own with a tingle, disappearing into her. She sat there, unable to believe what had happened. Tears poured down on her cold cheeks as she thought dimly, He’s dead. Peter is dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She curled herself around his still body, still slightly warm, and lay there, crying until she cried herself asleep, exhausted and spent. When she woke a few hours later she sat up and looked at Peter. He lay, cold and blue and dead. She burst into tears again. After controlling her tears, she looked around. All around her lay townspeople. At first, she thought they were dead, but when she checked, she realized that they were all sleeping.

The soldiers and the prince were nowhere to be seen, and she was glad for it. She didn’t know what she’d have done if she’d seen them. She shrieked with anger and sadness and pain. She fell to her knees, sobbing again. Beside her, a man groaned and started to wake. All around her, the sleeping bodies slowly began waking up. Her mother and father woke to see their daughter crying over Peter’s body. 

Gregory stood silently next to her, offering her support that she ignored. The townspeople gathered, somber, as she told them her tale about how he’d saved her life. She walked over to the blacksmith, who was his father, and hugged him. His shoulders heaved as he spoke, his voice shaking with tears. “He was a good boy. He--” He broke off, unable to speak. Everyone gathered around the body and respectively wrapped it up in a blanket. They carried it to his home, leaving behind them the clearing where blood still soaked into the ground. Christiana realized she was wearing blood stained clothes, though there was no wound anymore, when her mother fussed over her, handing her clean clothes. She changed automatically, feeling lost and confused. 

Having to be led by her mother, the family walked silently down the quiet streets. The townspeople had all gathered to say goodbye to Peter, even Gregory, who had only met him during those unfortunate circumstances. It was a tradition in the town, to have a sort of service for the dead. Person after person spoke of Peter highly, everyone remembering when he’d done this or that, or had helped them somehow. She was hit by a wave of loneliness with every new memory of him. He was her best friend, and he was gone. She couldn’t fathom it. So she ran. She ran and ran and never looked back.

She ran into the forest, not to the clearing, but deep into the forest. She ran until she was breathless and her chest ached with the hard running she’d done. She collapsed into the crook of a tree, huddling beneath the roots of a large tree. Curling in a ball she cried loudly, where no one could hear her and bother her. 

Thinking of him made her heart ache with longing and loneliness, but she made herself remember everything. She didn’t want to forget him. When one is dead, people will remember for awhile, but soon, everyone forgets, because as time passes, so do people, no matter how many promises are made and spoken. She thought of his voice, the feel of his hands on top of hers. She wished she could held him longer. He’d embraced her that day when she’d left. She should have known it was a goodbye. She hadn’t known how final it would be, but it was. And now she yearned for his embrace again.

She felt her heart pound, no, his heart. She held his heart in her chest, and though the pain was immense, she knew she couldn’t die, not by her own hand, for she was living proof of his sacrifice. No one would forget him, not if she could help it, for his heart was her own now. Sobs continued to wrack her body. How could she keep living though when he was gone?

Pain bit deeply, stung her hard and long. Christiana felt like her head had been stomped on mercilessly. She cried bitter tears, feeling like she couldn’t breathe in the immensity of her pain. She loved Peter so much, why did he have to leave? It was all her fault. 

Everything that was him was her everything. When she closed her tear filled eyes she saw him again, his hair like gold in the sun, his tanned skin and eyelashes that cast soft shadows on his cheeks when he closed his eyes, his resonating voice. She needed him so much. He gave her attention, made her feel special. He had loved her so much it had filled her and now she felt empty. 

A sharp prod in her side made her realize her mother must have put that diamond in her pocket before they’d let. It was all that diamond’s fault, she thought angrily. She was about to throw it as far as she could in the forest, but realized that might not be a good idea. So she dug a hole with her hands, not caring that her fingers were becoming stained with dirt and grime as she scratched at the cold hard ground. She placed the diamond in the ground, and with it, she buried a part of herself, and she felt so cold and emotionless, she wondered what she was even doing alive. She covered the diamond up with dirt and stepped on it, hiding the gleam, pounding it out so that it looked like of the other ground in the forest.

When she finally walked slowly home, her parents were frantically worried about her. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything but, “I’m tired.” She washed her dirty hands off and then went to her room and collapsed on her bed, tired and weary of crying and of life. She slept for two days before her parents made her get up. 

Gregory had stayed with them for a few days, and he tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t even look him in the eye. Eventually he rode away. Back to his sweetheart Belle, she thought angrily. It wasn’t his love that had died. Everyone was just going on with their lives, how could they? Peter was gone! 

Light streamed through the window and illuminated her darkened and shuttered room. It was a new day. Christiana slowly opened her eyes, hoping the sunlight would fill her empty heart, but it didn't. How could the sun shine when her love had died? It should be stormy, the sky should be crying with her. She didn't wish for a new day, all she wanted was to go back, back before all of the horrors had happened. Back to the days when life was simple and love easy and free.

She was tired of the pain, sorrow, the darkness that governed her life. Her life was a black hole, creating a miserable existence. What hurt more though, were the words that were never said, the ones she so desperately had wanted to say, before it was too late. She wondered, after all the years the town had been together and grown closer, how everyone could simply forget him once he was dead, and that was the final blow to her. She looked out the window and saw the morning rays creeping up past the horizon, but she knew it would be a long time before light would fill her heart again.

Her family was worried about her, but she was soon beyond caring. For the first few weeks she was angry and desolate and distracted, prone to fits of anger where she felt the need to hit something. She would run when she felt trapped and she would punch a tree, scraping her knuckles angrily and forcefully against the tough bark until her skin was broken and raw like her heart. The next few months went by too slowly for her. Empty and lonely, she was tired of anger and went through her days indifferently, apathetically, unable to do anything but what she was ordered to do and eat mechanically. 

One night, Christiana went out after dark, climbing out her window and trotting into the forest. She sat down as the panic and memories overwhelmed her usual calm and mechanical self. Darkness was all around her and she felt nausea building at her loneliness. She fought hysteria, fought the urge to howl like a wolf into the night and scream her pain out loud. She was going to shatter soon. She spoke out loud, whispering a broken plea, pleading for Peter with something less than hope, resigned to her fate without him.

That was the first night of many. After that she snuck out every night. She ran like the wind, running with her shadow, merging with the pulse of her own heartbeat. When she ran, she felt a little more free, a little less empty. Then she would remember her home, that she had to go back. And she would slow down, and stop walking. Then she would think of Peter and her promise to live, and would slowly walk home.

He was so kind and sensitive. She had never known of any man with greater love. He had always been such a happy person. Even after going through a lot of pain and hardship, he had continued to be joyous. He lost his mother to a plague that had struck the land when he was three, and his father had been a crazed and heartbroken mess after her death for a very long time. Peter had always been patient and kind, nursing his father back from the dark abyss he’d fell into after her death, and helped him rebuild his broken life. After all of those struggles, her problems had seemed small and insignificant, and yet he still smiled, always smiling, always happy.

She closed her eyes and again remembered his blinding smile, the eyes that shone like stars. They never reflected any sorrow, just love. The past was forever captured in her mind with all of the memories of him. She was flooded with pain and sadness and she cried, her tears streaking sideways down her cheeks as the wind touched her hair and skin. Lifting her eyes to the night sky, she wondered if he was up there somewhere, some brilliant star, watching over her. The thought calmed her and she went home feeling more alive. She couldn’t remember the past few months, and wondered where they had gone. She still felt like a robot, doing what her parents asked and living as she normally would, but she wasn’t as distant.

It was after that night that she began to dream. He haunted her, taunted her with a glimpse of his face in her dreams. Voices clamored in her head at night, saying his name, a faint echo in her mind, fleeting glimpses into the past. She wished he was here all the more and she felt the pain still too clearly. 

They say that time is the ultimate healer of all wounds, but she did not feel like the pain was healing. It was getting more tolerable, and she was getting used to the excruciating horror that would wrench her to the floor in an attack where she would lay in pain, until it was over. It seemed like just yesterday that he’d looked at her one last time before she’d stolen his breath, but she knew, she’d counted, the one thing her mind had kept track of. She felt the pain of knowing how long it really had been since he had left. She never cried though. After that fateful day, she had not cried, though the pain in her welled up until she felt she would burst.

The feelings would stir her from within, remembering a time, a place, a person who had stolen her heart, and given her his in return. She remembered a time when she laughed, when she had joy and a light heart. Then also the pain of his goodbye, his sacrifice, and she would gaze longingly into the distance and sigh, knowing that memories were only memories. And he would never come back. 

Christiana dreamed of him, sleeping restlessly one night. She dreamed that he had come back to her. Her joy was intense, enormous, the feelings of love effortless and full. There was no awkward pause, she ran to him and hugged him. She clung to him, and he hugged her back fiercely, whispering, “I love you, I love you so much,” into her ear. It felt so real, and when she woke her heart ached with fresh pain. Tears had soaked into her pillow, as she recalled his embrace in her dream. She could almost feel his strong shoulders and back again, as though he was really with her. Seeing him again, even in a dream, had opened up the still sore wound and she bled anew from the inside. Drops of blood like drops of tears.

She missed him so much. He was all she thought of when she did her daily chores monotonously. She missed his eyes and the love she’d seen in them. She missed his arms around her, his voice, the sweet things he’d whispered in her ears. She missed how safe she’d felt with him. 

Christiana lay in bed, tears dripping down the sides of her face and onto the pillow. She always knew that if she started to cry again, she’d never be able to stop. There was so much sadness and misery in her, that when she tried to regain some energy, it leaked through her like she was a sieve and left her feeling emptier than ever. The tears she cried now were not from her eyes anymore, but from her soul, pouring out from the deepest grief she had left buried deep down inside. Christiana wondered how she could live and feel like this, but the misery stayed and she still lived. A wretched keening tore from her lips and for a second she didn’t realize she was making the miserably and pain filled noise she heard. 

Her parents had long stopped rushing to her bedside when she screamed from nightmares or from sorrow itself. So she sat in the silence, keening and rocking back and forth, on the verge of breaking down. When she finally calmed herself, she lay for awhile, simply staring at the ceiling, wondering how she had gotten to such a sorry state.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Christiana couldn’t get back to sleep, so she unlatched her window quietly and walked away. She ran far into the forest, and ended up sleeping on the cool grass beneath a sheltering tree. When she woke, she realized she’d made it all the way to the bottom of the mountain. She was just deciding whether to turn back, when she heard a cry and looked up. She saw something that made her stop and stand shocked. Before her, flying over the mountain peaks was a phoenix. She was sure this was the mythical creature talked of in books. 

The strange bird like creature floated down, landing in front of her. It was massive, larger than a horse, and its wings must have been at least two of her body’s lengths long! Its’ feathers were reds and oranges and golds, all mixed together that it seemed to be on fire. A living, burning flame in the feathers that shimmered and flowed in the slight wind. The feathers shimmered and glimmered as though they were a burning flame. Reds, oranges, golds, all of it created a very fiery and fierce effect. It looked at her, seeming to see through her soul, and she saw that its’ eyes were very large, golden, and wise. Its’ eyes seemed to contain so much wisdom and she wondered how old it was. This was for sure, a very ancient bird, if one could call it that, and she had no doubt it could live for many many years. The bird’s eyes were very intelligent, marked with power. She eyed its sharp talons and beak carefully. It could hurt her, but would it? She glanced at the phoenix’s taloned feet and gasped at the size of its feet. They were large and sharp, looking like they could tear big things apart. But the bird itself did not look dangerous, it looked serene, but Amena knew it had great power, both physically and magically. 

For now it just seemed to be looking her over as she did the same. Then it spoke and she almost stumbled back in her surprise. It spoke to her, but not aloud, instead, it seemed to be in her mind, a clear, high voice that was coming from the phoenix. Hello Christiana. Do not be afraid of me. I am peaceful. I have come to you because you are the only one who can help me. Christiana was confused. How could she help anything, especially a magical creature, which could do so much more than she could? Its voice was soft and yet strong, sweet, but filled with an ancient and rich elegance. I am Estele, the First of my Kind, the Phoenixes. I am a creature from Magic and I have a mission for you, with the fate of the world at your hand. It hesitated, then went on. It is dangerous, but is vital.

I’m sorry, I’m confusing you, aren’t I? The phoenix noticed Christiana’s very puzzled look and seemed to sigh as only phoenixes can sigh. Let me tell you a story. First, of how Magic works. The Magics were discovered when the Firsts were created by the Unseen One. We each had magic we were made with and as the Firsts, we created a High Council. We experimented with our powers and learned about ourselves. We found that we had powers beyond our imagination, if used in certain ways and amplified through artifacts. Then we learned of the humans and we were surprised when they did not have a First of their kind, and it seemed as though there were suddenly many of them, but then, we had not looked into the affairs of the lesser animals around us for a long time. They used to all have magic, but not as much as we did. They were strange, ignorant creatures to us ancient beings.

Estele dipped her long neck as Christiana looked at her with an eyebrow raised indignantly. I do not mean all of you, but to us, who had lived for many, many centuries before your kind roamed the earth, you were naive and unable to handle things as we, more experienced, were able to. As I was saying, your kind used to have some magic, but as the generations came and went, the magic diminished, and soon only special, certain people would discover they had magic. People stopped believing that magic even existed, and those with magic were feared and ridiculed and hated. Magic grew faint and forgettable. But it still lingered in the human race in the strong of heart, and fire around the heart is proof of that. I am sorry for your loss of your friend, I would like to compliment him. He had very strong magic, the fire burned strongly in his veins and when he brought out his heart as it can be seen crystallized, I could tell instantly that his magic was very strong.

Christiana stepped back at the phoenix’s words. “You were there?” The phoenix shook its head, its golden feathers ruffling. No, I saw it in your mind. She glared at Estele. How dare this creature take her memories as she pleased. I did not take your memories, they practically screamed out to me, your pain brought them to the front of your mind and it drew me in so I could not help but watch it unfold. Let me continue my story please. Christiana quieted and listened.

I once met a man, a human. He was a young man, strong of mind and he did not lack physical strength. He had powerful veins of magic in his heart. He talked to me like most magical creatures like me do, in the mind. It was calming to talk to this man. I had never talked to man before, and he intrigued me. The High Council warned me to stay away from humans, for they were dangerous, but I thought myself indestructible as the First of my kind, and wise enough to distinguish what was dangerous for myself.

I continued to meet him, learning of humans and their habits. He in turn, learned of my kind, the phoenixes. He wrote many stories of us, mostly true, and though I was hesitant to be known of, I was pleased he was spreading our names as legendary honorable creatures across the lands. But few believed him and some ridiculed him. I found him one day, his body ripped and torn, his heart burned, an act that was done because of his magic. They had burned his heart for they knew that the core of magic power is in the heart. I was shocked, terrified, for I had never seen such brutality, cruelty, in my life. I wanted revenge, for never had I cared for a small human as I had this one. 

I discovered a powerful spell, and with all the magic endowed to me, I used it. I created an artifact called the White Diamond. I gave it to the man and he stood instantly, his wounds healing instantly, but the only thing he lacked was a true heart, for his had been burned, and I could not find a way to restore it, so I had given him an animal’s heart without his knowing. He thanked me profusely, vowing always to serve me. I was happy, but men easily forget their foolish promises that come with no real claims. As time went on, we met less and less. 

He found a human woman, and they married, but he did not love her. For a man without his heart was nothing. It was only the White Diamond that kept him alive. Something changed in him. I didn’t see it at first, but then I met with him one day, to discover that his eyes were purple. He was quite angry at me for something, which I believe was the barrenness of his wife. He yelled at me, shouting profanity and I could tell something was very strange, very wrong with this stranger I did not know.

I had felt a spark of something inside of me. It was my connection to the White Diamond and it hurt like no other. The White Diamond was paining me because it had been tainted and I had to cut my connection before Evil used it to get to me. The man had been taken over by the Evil, and he ran from me with the White Diamond. I chased after him, but he had somehow learned to use it and and quickly escaped me. He hid, and his evil grew and festered like an infection, spreading to the humans and animals alike.

He became known as the terrible Magician Rothyr. My gift to the human Rothyr had become the plaything of evil, and I felt it in my chest, eating me inside out, as it was turning the White Diamond black as well, even though my connection was severed with it. The High Council discussed this evil magician that was turning what was safe into a terrible world of secrets and lies and sin. We had to do something. Together, we had more power than ever, and we banished him, placing a magical border around him like a cage, so he could not escape. But he had been smart. Rothyr knew we would soon intervene, and he had released his evil being into several creatures of our own kinds and they destroyed us. Most of the High Council was killed. I am the First, and now Last, of my kind.

The phoenix gave out a mournful cry that seemed to pierce Christiana’s soul and she felt the bird’s pain as though it were her own. It took a few moments for them both to stop thinking mournfully of their lost ones and then Estele continued. We struggled to keep the force holding Rothyr back, and it worked, for awhile. But it was my fault, for giving him the White Diamond. For he matched us almost power for power for a long time and his evil minions kept escaping and killing us off. We held him back for many centuries, but now again the seal is breaking. The High Council has been reduce into almost nothing, our magic not strong enough to beat something like the White Diamond. 

But we did not realize that he had lost it. When we pushed him back one time when we were still standing strong, the Diamond fell out of his clutches and to the earth, where it lay hidden for many years, and that is why we were able to hold him back so long. It revealed itself to one pure of heart, as it has always done, so that it could be used that way, but because it was tainted, all it did was stir up the darkness in the prince’s heart. It used him and now I believe that Prince Alan is no more, and only Rothyr exists, for he took his body and he even now searches for the Diamond. Christiana paused, confused. “I thought Peter told me he’d destroyed him or something?” 

He did not destroy him, but threw him far from you, across the other side of the earth, but that is not enough to stop Rothyr from coming here. He has been traveling for many months since Peter’s brave attempt. I feel it beating in my chest. He is searching, he is seeking the White Diamond vigorously. You must make it pure and use it against him before he can lay hold of it. You cannot use it when it is dark and absorbed with evil, for it will only destroy you slowly. The phoenix shivered, suddenly feeling chilled, as though the air had suddenly grown quite cold, though Christiana wondered how a mythical creature like that could get cold if it was like a living fire. She sat, absorbing the story. It was interesting, but what was she supposed to do?

It seemed to read her thoughts and replied, You must go to Horuk Mountain, where what is left of the High Council resides. They will test you, see if you are strong enough to press on through the magical tests they throw at you, but if you stay strong and remember, they will find to their satisfaction that you are truly pure at heart. Then they will help you make the Diamond pure again. You must do this, you are the only one that can save the world from destruction. If Rothyr gets his hands on the White Diamond’s dormant power, evil will completely take over the world and even he will be consumed in its wake, so it will run free and reckless. 

“Um, I have to ask. Why me? I am a broken girl, lost and empty and I am not brave or pure at heart or anything, all I loved has been lost and frankly, I don’t even know if I care about anything else,” The phoenix extended its beak, big and menacing looking. Christiana kept herself still as the giant bird touched her shoulder gently, softly. I can feel your heartbeat. I have observed you for many days now. I have seen your sorrow, your pain, and I am sorry. I cannot change that, but think of your family.

The phoenix concentrated, and its eyes dilated into green rays that drew her in. She found herself in her own memories, memories of days she hadn’t known she’d gone through. She saw herself, tired, eyes red from crying. Then she saw her parents, late at night after she’d gone to sleep, talking about her. Their eyes were red from crying as well, and they all sat in silence everyday. The blacksmith too was grieving over his son, and he kept himself busy at his fire and forge, the tears he wiped from his eyes he blamed on the smoke and soot.

Christiana felt tears sliding down as she watched her memories. All this time she had been feeling so sorry for herself, when everyone else suffered just as much as her. Her parents must have worried so much for her. She watched herself mope around, looking pale, so brittle she would fall apart at a single touch.

Now she felt such remorse and regret and guilt for ignoring everyone around her for all of the months she’d spent mourning. They could have rallied together, cried together and helped each other, but she had run and hid herself deep within the only place she could control, her mind. The scenes faded and Christiana cried out, “You see? I am far from perfect. I cannot do this when I have failed at everything else, including life.”  You are only human,but you are pure of heart and your motives clear of evil. You must do this, for your family, for the world, for the memory of Peter. I dug up the Diamond where you hid it that day. 

Estele opened her beak and in it lay the White Diamond, which looked as pure as ever to Christiana. She took it and put it in her jacket pocket. You were lost, but now you realize there is so much more to this and your heart, whether tortured by the pain of loss, or joyous with love, it is pure and filled with Peter’s magic. I know that the evil of man will taint the Diamond more if they get it and evil is hungry, hungry for power. Do not let it fall into wrong hands, because you can do the right things with it. Use it for good. 

Christiana nodded hesitantly, scared and unsure, but knew she had to do this. She straightened and stood, looking into Estele’s big eyes and said, “I will do all I can to make things right. How am I going to find this Horuk mountain? I’ve never even heard of it before.” The phoenix spread its wings slightly and replied, I can carry you to the foot of the mountain. It is well hidden, but I know where it is. From there you will be on your own. 

She considered running home quick and telling her family, but knew they would never believe her, but should she tell them anyways? The phoenix shook its head impatiently, its feathers ruffling. There is no time to go home. Darkness is coming. You must hurry. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phoenix led her to a clearing where it could spread its wings freely and then hovered in the air, its wings flapping silently, but creating big gusts of wind around them. Trees were blown back as it hung in midair. Take hold of my talons, I will do the rest. 

Christiana wondered how she’d be able to hold on for however long the flight would be, but took a hold of the large talons hanging in front of her. She gasped as a tingling went through her hands as though they were on fire. Burning and searing pain shot through her, then disappeared as quickly as it came. It was a quick moment of pain, and she gasped, not expecting it, more surprised than hurt. I’m sorry that hurt, it was necessary for the magic to keep you connected to me, or else you would have fallen off the instant I took off. Now we will go.

Christiana gasped as the phoenix lifted off, its’ reverberating cry ringing in her ears. She would have clasped her hands over her ears but they were stuck fast around its talons. Surprisingly, she was comfortable, considering she was really hanging onto a phoenix flying faster than any horse she had ever ridden in. It was strange, whatever magic the phoenix had connected her with, but it worked. It felt like she was flying through the air. She looked around and gaped in amazement. She tried to say that, but the rushing wind was too noisy as it whistled in her ears. They were flying over a desert, vast empty dunes of sand. 

They flew faster and faster it seemed. The land vanishing before them as they sped through the morning light. Christiana realized she wasn’t cold, and was glad for this magical protection she had. She watched as they flew over a town, a small blur of homes and the dark shadows of moving people. A rush of exhilaration poured through her veins. She felt so free, a wonderful change from everything she’d been feeling before.

She was surprised to realize that they were slowing down, and that she could see the sun already high in the sky, showing that it was almost noon hour. The phoenix was drifting now, slowing the descent. Christiana looked down and forward and saw the mountain before her. It looked like magic was surrounding it, giving it a shimmery hazy look. Banking, the phoenix landed gracefully at the foot of the mountain, where the shimmery border began. 

She stood, her hands still tingling as they released from the bird’s talons, and stared. “Now I just go up the mountain? Am I supposed to look for something specific? A cave or something?” The phoenix shook its head. The magic and the High Council will find you. Keep your courage young maiden. My hope is in you. Be careful, beware most of evil. I fear that Rothyr is already lurking around here. I smell evil, but it could be the Diamond. Do not trust in what you see on this magic place, only what is in your heart. 

The phoenix bowed low to the ground in what looked like reverence.  Christiana felt embarrassed that this magical creature was bowing to her, and she bowed in return. Then she straightened and looked the phoenix in the eye. “I will try not to disappoint you.” The phoenix turned and began to leave when Christiana shouted, “Wait! How will I find you if I make it pure and stuff?” I will find you, for I will know the instant the White Diamond is pure or evil because my connection still lingers. She didn’t quite understand, but figured it was more of the amazing magic. The ways of the Firsts and the High Council must be very confusing. She shrugged and watched the fiery creature disappear into the air. 

Then she turned, taking a deep breath, and faced the shimmery barrier. Would it hurt if she touched it? Her hand outstretched, she stood in front of it cautiously. She touched it, flinching as she expected it to sting or burn or hurt, but her hand simply went through it. the shimmery wall rippled like water. She waved her hand through it, watching as it disappeared into the wall and back again. Then she stepped through. She felt a tingle, but nothing else. When she looked back though, she gasped. The shimmery wall had disappeared, but a stone wall stood behind her, blocking her way back. She couldn’t see the place she’d come from. She sure hoped there was a way out. 

Ahead of her lay a spread out forest, rocks and branches barring her from a  path almost undiscoverable under all of the tangled messes. She struggled upwards, her feet were soft, unused to the rough ground, and they hurt, but she kept going. She grumbled a little, “Why am I doing this again? For some gem that I don’t even know will do anything. Maybe I could just take it and sell it and bring my family the riches.” She imagined going home with a horse laden with gold, her family cheering as they took in the sight. That’d be nice. Of course, she would have to find it first. Just then she heard a noise in some bushes up ahead. She stopped warily. She should have gotten a weapon or something. What if it was some evil creature come to kill her? Real fear gave her adrenaline, she was ready to run. 

Suddenly out of the bushes jumped a small white rabbit. Christiana laughed almost hysterically, trying to calm her racing heart. “its just a rabbit. Well, I am hungry...” She held a sharpened stick and thought maybe she could spear it. It looked at her while she stepped closer to it. She crowed triumphantly, surprised at her luck as her makeshift spear hit its mark and the rabbit flopped on the ground. She pulled the spear out and then shrieked as the rabbit suddenly stood up, blood still dripping from its wound. It roared and she stared in shock.

“Rabbits roar?” She squeaked in fear as the small rabbit suddenly transformed, growing bigger and bigger, until it towered over her. It was no longer a cute little bunny rabbit but a monster with fangs and razor sharp teeth and hungry eyes, its floppy ears ragged and large, its tail a prickly large burr that looked like it had been dipped in tar. “So much for dinner, now I’m the dinner,” she said aloud as she turned and ran for her life as it thundered after her.

She jumped behind a tree and then ran out as it charged past the tree. Praying her aim was okay, she threw her makeshift spear. It fell against the creature’s body and broke in two. It turned towards her, stalking its prey until it had it cornered her back to where she’d first come through the barrier and she hugged the wall, her back pressed against it. She wished it would suddenly turn all shimmery again for her, but it remained hard against her back. “Uh, I, um, I really don’t want to get eaten. Please please please, I promise I wasn’t going to eat you!” The beast didn’t seem to hear or understand or even care.

It charged towards her and she screamed, trying to move out of the way. She jumped to the side, and tripped on a stone as she did, landing flat on her face. Beside her, the monster ran full tilt into the wall, its head cracking against the unmoving wall. She swore she heard it’s neck crack as it fell next to her.

She jumped up and skittered away, hiding behind a tree to see if it was still alive. When it didn’t move for many minutes, she cautiously snuck up to it. It’s neck had broken instantly it looked like, when it hit the brick wall. She was still starving, and wondered if she could eat it. She’d certainly have enough meat. She felt revolted at the thought though and when she moved it just to see, purple smoke oozed out and Christiana stepped away. Purple smoke was not good. This must have been a creature taken over by evil, there was always some sort of sign that would give away its evilness, usually purple that oozed from wounds and the purple fire that would eat and destroy anything it could.

She decided that she probably shouldn’t eat something that was evil, and so she dragged it away from the wall and into a more denser part of the forest, covering it with leaves and really hoping it wouldn’t regenerate or heal or anything. She thought of having to face it again. Did killer bunnies have relatives? She sure hoped not. Her stomach protested as she began to walk back to where she knew the path was, the need for food causing her discomfort. 

She discovered a bush filled with what looked like raspberries. Though she was leery of eating anything on a magic filled mountain, she was starving. She pulled one open, and having inspected it for any sign of purple evilness, she popped it in her mouth and sighed as the sweetly tart juice ran in her mouth. Spreading out her jacket, she greedily picked a bunch from the full bushes, hungrily shoving them in her mouth. “At least if I die now of poison, I’ll die with a full stomach,” she said out loud, then laughed, her voice strange in the eerie silence of the mountain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After she had carried some berries carefully back to the path, she realized that it was getting to get colder so she picked up some wood and wondered how to make a fire. She had seen people make fires back at home by rubbing something together. The sticks clattered between her hands as she tried, and all she got was blisters and disappointment. Sighing, she was going to give up, but then decided to give it one more try. She put the two sticks together and rubbed them against each other forcefully and was finally rewarded with a small tendril of smoke. She rubbed them together faster, encouraged by her small success and soon had a small spark on one of the branches.

She coaxed the small flame that caught the pile of wood she’d laid down, and blew it onto them, and soon the fire was burning merrily. Small as it was, Christiana was happy for the slight warmth and held her hands over the flames. She sat there, wondering what to do. What kind of tests would she have to do? The magic would find her, but how? How could she finish a life threatening test if she could barely fend off a monstrous rabbit? 

She felt restless, unable to sleep because she was so wary, constantly looking for some creature to attack her or a mythical creature to step out and tell her she was being tested. She was about to kick dirt over her fire when it suddenly went out without her trying to. A panicky feeling went through Christiana as she found herself plunged in utter darkness, a heavy sort of black that weighed upon her. She groped in the dark, trying to see her hand before her face. 

She squinted to see through the oppressing darkness and wished she had a torch or her fire back. Standing completely still, she was sure she had heard something like the clicking of hooves on a hard surface. One hand went to her waist, where she had her sharpened stick, but when she went for it, she found it had disappeared. So she was blind and weaponless, unable to defend herself from whatever was happening. 

Somehow she knew this pressing fog and black was of magic and it made her nose tingle. Should she fight magic with magic? Estele had told her she had Peter’s magic, but she didn’t know how to use it. Feeling helpless, she simply stood there, hoping something would either tell her what to do or the darkness would somehow mysteriously disappear. Then a booming voice suddenly echoed around her. She turned in a circle, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound, but it somehow managed to be echoing everywhere in the darkness around her. “Child from the dust, here to restore the Diamond? You have it on you. I can feel it burning its light.” 

She nodded at the strange unseen voice, and knew that this must be the High Council, or some magical figure with them for it did not sound evil, but then, what did she know of evil? She had to trust something, she decided, and so she nodded and said, “Um, yes, I have it here.” She shouted these, unsure of how far or close the speaker was. The voice laughed, shaking the ground under her feet. “I can hear you plainly girl, you need not shout.” She blushed, embarrassed, and then hurriedly pulled the White Diamond out of her pocket and held it up. It seemed to bear light of its own and it chased the darkness away from her, creating a small, comforting halo of light around her.

Then the Diamond in her hand vanished and sparkles shimmered around her hand. Then darkness engulfed her again and she cried out in panicked hysteria. “Hey, where’d it go?! I need that!” She was frantically searching for it on her knees, wondering if she had dropped it, though the sparkles said that magic had taken it from her. The voice spoke again, reassuring her, “I know it is important, it is the only way to save the world isn’t it. I have taken it for safe keeping. It will only hinder you during your time here.

If we determine you are pure, and my decision will be final and irreversible, then I will give it back and lead you through a ritual that I hope will make it pure.” Christiana wanted to protest, but remained in her sulky silence, mad that it’d taken the one chance she had to destroy the evil. She hoped the voice would keep its promise, and she said, “So who are you? And why do you have to test me?” She paused, catching her breath. “If you’re so magical and everything, why can’t you just tell whether I’m pure or not?” She asked boldly. To her utter frustration, he, at least she thought it was a he, didn’t reply. 

“Hello?” She spoke, then stopped before she asked where he’d gone, when she realized she could start to see now. The darkness was receding, lifting from the ground, and she looked around to find herself in a pleasant meadow.

Bright green grass and dainty flowers swayed in a gentle breeze. This must be my test, she thought to herself. Would she have to fight another rabid rabbit monster? She looked around cautiously, but saw only the vast meadow and then she saw a large garden in the distance. Christiana felt a slight pull, like someone was tugging her towards it. She surrendered to it and walked down the hill towards it. There didn’t seem to be a house anywhere nearby and she wondered who would keep a pretty garden like that in the middle of nowhere. 

It was beautiful. Rosebushes dominated the garden, bright red and white roses lined a stone pathway to the center of the garden. She followed it, stepping lightly on the stones. Feeling a little dizzy, she thought that she would pass out as the world spun around crazily. She staggered forward, landing on her knees. “Why’s the world upside down?” she asked faintly before collapsing in the center of the garden.

Christiana woke, her head pounding with a headache. “Ugh, what happened?” She rubbed her throbbing head, surprised to find herself in a small cottage. “Hello young lady,” a portly, middle aged woman smiled a bright smile at her. “I found you passed out in my garden, felt sorry for you, pretty little thing.” Her eyes were welcoming and she gestured to a table where hot food sat. She’d never felt so hungry before. “I baked some food. Help yourself.” Christiana felt her stomach rumble, but hesitated. “I couldn’t eat your food, and my stomach’s kinda upset right now and if I stuff myself with food it will probably make me feel worse.

The woman frowned prettily, “Ah, but I made it all for you! I have plenty to share.” She waved an apple tart in front of her nose and Christiana moved forward, her nose following the sweet scent. “Mmm, that smells delicious!” She reached for it, but something held her back again and she pulled her hand back, her mind still disoriented from her headache. “May I just rest?” She nodded understandingly and then said, “But here, drink some apple cider before you do.” She handed her a hot mug of steaming cider, with cinnamon sprinkled on it. “I added some honey to it as well,” she said with a warming smile. Christiana wondered how she knew that was her favorite way to drink it. Honey wasn’t a very common thing to put in cider. 

The smell was inviting and she hesitated, leaning towards it and taking in the wonderful aroma of the spiced apple cider. She realized that it smelled good, too good. That didn’t make sense, how could anything smell too good? As she focused, her senses cleared and her headache pounded less. Another whiff of the cider reached her nostrils and she almost jerked back in surprise. Suddenly, the sweet smell seemed cloying and heavy. The strange woman was offering her other treats and almost begging her to eat them. “Why do you want me to eat so badly? And where’d you get all this food?” She asked aloud, but the woman just waved away her questions with more food.

Christiana pulled back, trying to keep her wits about her as the room began to spin like it had in the garden. The cloying, overpowering smell of the food was overwhelming her and she took a big breath, almost choking on the heavy scents, and then held her breath. Instantly her head cleared a little more and the spinning stopped, though it lurked by, waiting for her to let the breath out. She shook her head and got up, pushing the surprised woman away. The woman’s motherly expression hardened as she saw Christiana was resisting her cloying food. 

Her face and body was changing before her eyes and it became that of a serpent. It’s now thin body slid out of the clothes the woman had had on before and slithered towards her, its eyes cold and pale. It flicked its tongue out and she clearly saw purple venom dripping from its’ two long fangs that protruded. She stepped on the table, pushing the food out of the way as she climbed up, trying to avoid the snake. It stalked her, slithering on its belly towards the table. She shrieked as it struck, barely missing her heel as it attacked from the ground.

She threw a dish of grapes at it and they exploded on the snake. It writhed in pain and she watched, astonished, as the grapes sizzled and ate away at the snake. She turned away, unable to watch as it hissed and spat and groaned under the grapes. Christiana shuddered, thankful she hadn’t eaten any of the food.

Seeing a glint of something, she looked, puzzled, at a ruby that had materialized beside her on the table. She picked it up and it dazzled her with its light that surrounded it. Then it disappeared and she hoped it was supposed to do that. As she watched, her surroundings began to dissolve and she found herself now in the forest that she recognized as the one around Tatira.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Christiana!” A deep voice made her heart stop. Tremulous, she turned around to see Peter looking at her with joy in his voice and eyes. “Oh, I’ve waited so long to see you again.” Christiana just stared at him, tears flowing down her cheeks. It was like the still healing, red and raw scar on her heart had burst open again, left her bleeding again with the loss again. 

She stood there, unable to move as he stepped forward. She wondered if he could touch her. Longing for his touch, he walked closer, and then he hugged her. His embrace made her cry more. He felt so real. was it really him? “Are you real?” she whispered plaintively. She looked into his dark eyes that pooled with love for her. “Yes, of course I am, I’m as real as the girl I hold in my arms is. I love you so much.” She cried into his white shirt as he murmured of his love in her ears. They sat on the forest floor while she sobbed, unable to believe it was really him, really here.

Peter was by her side, he had held her, he was real and she’d found him again. Her heart was soaring with the hope she hadn’t known she’d held onto. She stood, uncertain of whether to cry or laugh or sing. She felt renewed, joyous and vibrant. He was an illustrious man in general and the love of her life, and he had come back to her. She realized she was crying, and asked herself, why had he left?

Christiana felt confused. She didn’t know why her heart ached, or why he had come back to her, only that he had been missing in part of her life and now he was back, healing the gap in her heart. He stood up and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “You don’t have to leave. Please, come back with me to Tatira. I’ll take care of you, I promise.” Then he suddenly dropped to his knees and held her hands in his. “And maybe, maybe if you would consent to marrying me, we could live together and have a family together.” Her jaw dropped open and she stared at him as he blushed faintly at his outburst. Her heart beat faster and faster and she clasped her hands in his. “Yes! I’ll marry you!” They both smiled at each other, tears of joy this time, and she kissed him as he leaned over to meet her half way.

“We’ll build a house when we go back to Tatira. I’ll hire the best carpenters and other people. We can build our life together. I’ll become an apprentice of a carpenter so I can be part of a guild. You will be the most comfortable girl in town because I’ll always support you.” He got up and hugged her fiercely, and she felt so calm and protected in his arms. Peter would always be there for her.

They began walking in the direction he said was towards Tatira and as they walked she thought deeply, about her future, about their future, about a lot of things. Then she felt like she was forgetting something and wracked her brain to try and figure out what. “Did you ask my father yet? Usually you are supposed to ask the father, and then we figure out my dowry and all of the logistics.” He glanced at her and smiled widely. “Why, I don’t need a dowry. I have you, isn’t that all I need?” She looked down, her cheeks bright red, blushing fiercely. 

That was when she saw a ruby. It was red, gleaming on the ground, half covered in the mud and she frowned. It looked familiar. Why? She didn’t own any such things, at least, not any real rubies. She reached for it but Peter saw it too and pulled her hand away. “What are you looking at?” “I saw a ruby right there, see? Why would a ruby, especially one so large, be in the in forest?” She mused that some rich person had ridden through the forest and dropped it. “Oh who knows, lets leave it alone and go home to share the great news with the town,” he said smiling, but she was distracted by the shiny red jewel and ignored his words. “Well, couldn’t we take it back? We could sell it and get a good start on building our lives. It’s got to be worth hundreds of gold coins! Just think how much we could get for such a pure, clear cut jewel!” He pulled her away and she frowned at his sudden impatience. 

She sighed and turned away from it, to his relief, when she tripped over an exposed tree root she hadn’t seen. She hit her head on the tree and groaned at the instant throbbing. Her hand went to her forehead, feeling a bump already rising. “Ah man, that hurts.” She looked up for Peter, her head still spinning from her accident and she saw a monster bending down and staring at her. Stumbling back, she screamed. It had a thin body, bones sticking out of green skin that lay pasty white around its frame. Its head was grotesque, an evil grin and eyes like a snake. Its teeth were disgusting and stained with something she really hoped wasn’t blood.

It reached for her and she shrieked as its bony hand came towards her. She closed her eyes and waited for it to touch her. Nothing happened and she looked up to see Peter staring at her amused. “Am I so ugly you scream when I try to help you up?” She smiled, her face ashen and pale with sweat, still scared of whatever she had just seen, but allowed him to help her up. “I-I thought I saw a monster. It frightened me.” 

She laughed weakly at her silliness and brushed off her dirty gown. Then she saw the ruby again and ignoring his protests, went for it, bending beneath a tree’s outstretched branch to reach for it. “Don’t touch it,” he warned, his voice suddenly serious and almost forceful. “If you touch it, I’ll disappear. I’ll disappear and not be able to come back.” She jerked back, stumbling back. 

Peter? Leave her? Disappear? She couldn’t have that. “Why would you disappear? Have you seen this ruby before?” He nodded seriously. “It’s evil. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you, but yes, I’ve seen it before. Rothyr-I mean Prince Alan of Chevall had it, and he told me it contained the essence of my soul and if my true love touched it, I would die. So leave it alone. I don’t know who put it there, but it is obviously a trick to try and separate us.” A protectively fierce look came into his eyes and he squeezed her hand tightly. Christiana was frightened at that thought, but one word stuck in her mind. Rothyr. “Who is Rothyr?” The name sounded familiar. Did she see Peter pale at the word? “That is no one. I made it up,” he said quickly. 

Her growing suspicion of him knowing something she didn’t know flared up. “What aren’t you telling me,” she demanded angrily. “If we’re going to be married, we have to be completely honest with each other!” For a second, she thought she saw his dark eyes turn purple, and his face contort in a fleeting look of hatred, but she blinked and he seemed normal, just extra worried. “Oh, I haven’t been keeping anything from you! Rothyr was just an old friend of one a long time ago and I was thinking about him.” 

He touched her arm but she jerked back with a gasp. Where his fingers had touched her arm burned, and with it, her memories returned. She remembered that Peter died, she remembered that Rothyr was evil, that she had to save the world. She looked at Peter, and he looked at her mournfully. “Don’t go. Please. You don’t have to save the world or whatever. We could stay here forever and live happily together!” He pleaded with her and she hesitated. He sensed her hesitation and stepped forward eagerly, his hands out spread to embrace her. 

She grabbed the ruby before she could change her mind, her heart feeling like it would break when Peter screamed. And then, it wasn’t Peter. His face was contorting, transforming and she stifled a shriek. It was that monster she had seen when she hit her head. It wasn’t just a monster, it was HIM. Peter, the one that had just hugged her and told her it was all right. 

She cried, not for the first time that day, and now her tears were bitter. This wasn’t Peter. “You aren’t real,” she whimpered. YOU ARE NOT REAL!” She screamed all of her pain into those four words. His body had fallen to the floor and she resisted the urge to run to him and pick him up and hug him to her. Then he showed himself for the monster he really was, purple smoke oozing from his eye sockets where no eyes could be found. She shuddered, stepping back and clutching the red ruby. 

“High Council! Save me! I’ve completed the test haven’t I? I chose not to stay with him. I want to continue where I’m at!” She cried these words as the monster got closer to her, sluggishly lurching towards her, its teeth bared in a menacing grin. It had a foul smell and she couched, choking, when the monster disappeared in a flash of light and her world suddenly blinked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She woke, starting up frightened and ready to run, thinking she was still near that monster. But she woke to find herself lying in a circle in a strange room. It was fairly dark all around her, just a faint light. Something stepped into the light and she blinked, trying to figure out who or what it was as it came out of the shadows. Her mouth was an O as she stared at the creature coming towards her. It was a dark man with dark hair that hung around his shoulders. His muscled chest was bare except for a chest plate that was strapped around his shoulders, rough iron and tough, it looked scratched, as though it had seen many battles. 

Then he stepped forward more and his full body came into view. The lower half of his body was that of a horse. She stared, amazed. He was a centaur! She vaguely recalled the half horse, half human creatures in the tales of old. He looked at her gravely, his eyes dark and deep, wise and ancient. “Are you the High Council?” She asked. He nodded once and then spoke in her mind, like Estele had done. Yes. I am Tarin. The First of my kind the Centaurs and the Head of the High Council. 

His voice was smooth and deep, and elegant. You have passed the tests of the mind and have sacrificed much to stand here today. We are here to determine your heart and also purify the White Diamond. He held out his hand and she saw that he held it in his hand. She didn’t ask how he’d gotten it, just nodded. Eyes were all around her, the rest of the council she supposed, and she thought she glimpsed a unicorn horn glinting from the shadows, but wasn’t sure.

Then she turned her attention back to Tarin, who was gesturing in the air. His fingers traced strange symbols in the air, patters of light that began to shine and spin around her. The council around her began to chant in a language she didn’t know. Tarin spoke in her mind again, calm and smooth. Stand still until I tell you to move. She tried to stand silent and unmoving, but the chanting and the symbols made her fidget. She stared up at the whirling symbols. They swooped around her faster and faster and finally formed a ball of light that gently floated down into Tarin’s outstretched and cupped hands.

When he opened his hands again, he held a silvery orb. Christiana was astonished at the size of the luminescent pearl. It was pure white, silvery and pale. Place your hand upon the Orb. She did as he asked and touched it, her hands splayed out around it. She felt it burn and snatched her hands back. Tarin stepped into the shadows with the orb and she didn’t have time to ask where he was going. Flames erupted around her and she cried out, frantically trying to beat back the fire. It took her a few seconds to realize though the flames burned high and fearsome, she was not hurt by it. 

Then she stood there enchanted by the tongues of fire that licked her arms, but did not burn. The flames were red, and then blue, they flickered between the two as they danced across her arms and legs. Come, Tarin beckoned from beyond the circling wall of fire. She walked through the fire and it parted before her, its flames burning blue and red, creating a mystical aura around her, filled with magic and power. 

She strode forward confidently to where Tarin stood. The council stepped back around the array of light that adorned her clothing and skin, unwilling to touch the magical fire around her. Tarin smiled and she somehow knew what to do. She reached out and touched the orb again. Blue fire and red fire danced across her outstretched fingers and onto the orb. It flared once, then its light dimmed. He muttered some words and the White Diamond he still held floated in the air next to the Orb. Moving them together, they touched, sending out a flash of white light like lightning throughout the room. Christiana watched, intrigued, as blue fire fell and red fire slipped onto the ground and dissipated in her skin. 

Your heart is pure. Your strength of heart and mind have cleared the White Diamond. It is whole and perfect again. Take it and stay strong. Do what must be done in order that evil might be anquished. He bowed, clasping his hands in a sign of reverence to her. She fumbled with her hands, trying to imitate, and ended up bowing clumsily back. She thought she detected a hint of laughter in his naturally stern eyes when he turned away.

Christiana remembered something that had been nagging her and asked, “Um, I was just wondering. If I’d failed the tests, would you really have killed me?” She didn’t want to think that they had really set evil things against her, but she had to know. “Those evil creatures, with the purple flames and evilness stuff, that was really evil wasn’t it?” Tarin looked at her quizzically. She told him what happened in both scenarios and his face grew grim. 

He replied seriously, We did indeed place you into the first scenario to test your willpower and also to see if you had the ability to sense magic. The cloying smell you distinguished was just a hint, a faint sense of dark magic. But you say she turned into a snake that oozed purple. That was not us, whatever it was, it’s intent was clearly to kill you.

In the second test, we simply recreated your memories of your Peter, to see if you would choose him over everything else. But it seems as though evil has invaded our usually peaceful and secluded mountain. You have brought it here. He said this not accusingly or angry, but mournfully, as it was inevitable that evil would eventually find them. Christiana shuddered to think of how close she must have been to death.

Suddenly the air seemed to grow colder, and every single creature, man and beast, froze in the same second, everyone sensing something not right. A minotaur to her right bellowed, a long drawn out sound that made everyone there begin to bristle with anticipation and readiness. Rothyr is here, Tarin said grimly. He clasped his hands over hers, curling hers around the White Diamond that pulsed beneath them. You must use the Diamond. “But how?” she was frantic because she didn’t know how to use it or the magic that was supposedly in her, but Tarin had already turned away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Get on my back,” a foreign voice spoke softly out loud and she turned, surprised. The other creatures all spoke in their minds, while this one spoke out loud. She stared in amazement as she took in the sight of the pure white unicorn that looked at her intelligently. A horn in the middle of its’ forehead spiraled into a sharp point, glistening like a pearl, beautiful and perfect, but dangerous and deadly at the same time. “Quickly,” it said, nervously tapping its hooves on the ground. Christiana hurriedly swung a leg over the unicorn, only to slide off the other side. She’d never ridden bareback before, and now she wished she’d learned.

“Grab my mane and squeeze your knees firmly,” the unicorn added quickly, “Gently please! You’ll stay on better that way, try to balance.” She finally managed to stay upright and the unicorn trotted quickly down a long deserted corridor. The rest of the council had already passed through. A roar shook the ancient building and she knew it had to be Rothyr. “We must hurry, the council will try to destroy him, but I know they cannot do that without the White Diamond, and they will serve to distract him while you work. You must use it.” 

Christiana tried to speak and shook her head in fright but the unicorn stamped its foot and interrupted her. “Look in your heart. It is there that your magic lies. All humans have magic, but most cannot find it. You must and this will be your connection to the power in the Diamond.” 

They ran the rest of the way outside and Christiana almost wished she could go back in. It was chaos on the usually quiet mountain. She got off of the unicorn who galloped off and she ran past a dead fawn, its eyes still open wide with fear. Its’ chest had been torn open, and blood was still seeping through the gaping wound. 

Ahead, a monstrous dragon towered over the animals that were valiantly fighting the beast that was beating them back, though the numbers were against him, Rothyr’s massive size and power was holding his own against the multitudes of creatures that swarmed against him. She stood still and stared at the monster she was supposed to defeat somehow. 

It was a huge dragon, its’ wings almost blocking out the sun when spread out. Its’ face was long and covered with scales and teeth that protruded from its mouth. Venom and blood dripped from the long incisors and fangs. Its’ body was massive, covered in thick armored plates of steel that overlapped, leaving very little space to attack. Tarin held a spear and was trying to stab in the soft flesh underneath the scales but his efforts were futile. The dragon snatched his spear with one huge claw, snapping it in two in its razor sharp claws. 

The dragon’s tail was covered in deadly looking spikes and it swept out, lashing out at the centaur. It swept Tarin sideways into a tree five feet away where he crashed, his head hitting the tree trunk with a loud thunk. The tree tipped on its side at the force of the impact and the centaur lay still and motionless beside the fallen tree. “Tarin!” She said out loud, and though her whisper was small, the dragon heard her none the less and instantly reared its head in her direction, sensing her and the White Diamond. Smoke billowed out of its’ nostrils and when it opened its mouth flames spewed out, incinerating a bear too close. She cried out at the deaths around her. 

The dragon studied her with purple, heavy lidded eyes. They were dark eyes, filled with cunning, wily smarts, and pure evil. She got the chills when she looked him eye for eye and stepped back, shuddering. Flames suddenly roared on every side of her and she found herself trapped in a circle of fire. Sweat trickled down her brow in the heat and she clasped the White Diamond in her hand, hiding it from the dragon’s view, though she knew that he could tell it was there.

“W-who are you,” she shouted defiantly, horrified to hear her voice crack. The dragon bellowed, a loud rasping, rumbling sound that shook her to the core, and Christiana realized he was laughing at her. “You know who I am girl,” I am sure the High Concil told you,” it hissed, its voice gravelly and sharp. “I am the Magician Rothyr. This is my original form, for I am the proud First of my Kind, the dragons. I chose to take on the human form in order to do my work better, humans are so gullible and easy to control. 

You have no idea how long I’ve been laying dormant in pitiful humans with their hatred and anger and sorrow. Prince Alan was especially easy, an airhead of a prince. His hatred and anger was delicious, and fed me, kept me strong and healthy as I waited for my chance. Bitterness is even better, and I smell it in you.” Christiana bristled at this reply, but he continued speaking. “I was so pleased when you came. It woke me up. I was so happy when you gave the White Diamond to me, or rather, to the prince, for it allowed me to take complete control. It made my power fluctuate and grow and I was able to break free. Though I soon discarded that idiotic form. This is so much more better. I’m free again! After so many years of waiting and watching,” Rothyr crowed. He flapped his large wings, almost knocking her over in the gusts it produced and the air currents fanned the flames, making them burn higher. 

“You killed Peter,” she shouted angrily. He only chuckled in amusement and replied, stretching his neck down so that his head was at her level. One of his great big purple eyes stared at her nonchalantly, terrifying to her, but she held her ground. “No, actually, I killed you, or I tried, but that fool died instead. But it wasn’t I that killed him. That was all you, though I wish I could take credit for it.” He said amused by her expression. 

“You killed your precious Peter by taking his heart.” She stared into his dark eye in horror and saw her reflection grimacing as well. Hot tears fell as the dragon rumbled its laughter again. She sobbed, her cries drowned out by the crackling fire around her. Somewhere deep inside of her, a seed of doubt had sprouted. She’d tried to smother it, but it remained, guilt and pain over the thought that she might have been the one to kill her love. The dragon smiled, reveling in her guilt and eagerly sucking in the scent of her fear and sorrow. Its teeth glistened dangerously as it cooed, “You know, you could always give me the White Diamond. It’s only caused you problems so far.” He clucked sympathetically, a strange behavior at odds with his twisted, evil dragon form. 

Christiana was thinking maybe she should just give it to Rothyr. She doubted she could win against a dragon. A large burden of dark sorrow laid itself heavily on her shoulders. What was the use? It didn’t even work, she thought, as she disappointedly looked through blurry eyes at the dull crystal. It had faded a lot and looked like a plain old crystal, undistinguishable for a magical artifact with power. She despaired, guilt and doubt raging in her mind. 

“If you give it to me, I could maybe bring back Peter,” Rothyr purred gently. Her head shot up. “You could do that?” she whispered, unable to believe what she’d heard. The dragon nodded fervently. “Would I lie to you? Of course I can with the power of the White Diamond I’d be able to raise the dead.” She stood, her hands clenching the Diamond. 

Suddenly, beyond the wall of fire, she thought she glimpsed something like fire, except brighter. She saw that Estele had come. The phoenix landed behind the dragon silently and spoke in her mind. Quickly child, use the White Diamond! Christiana shook her head mutely. She wondered at how the dragon couldn’t see Estele, but Rothyr was speaking to her, tempting her deeply with the return of Peter. 

But then another voice entered her head. It was Tarin, who she’d thought was dead, but was weakly laying on his side. Would you make Peter’s sacrifice die in vain? Rothyr lies, the Deceiver, not even the White Diamond can bring your love back. He would destroy you the instant you give it to him. You must save those that are still living, for you cannot bring back the dead. Tarin used the last of his strength to send her a flow of memories. 

Christiana looked and saw herself sitting and laughing with her family together at a bonfire. It was Princess Aria chatting happily with her attendants. Gregory and Belle, sitting together with love in their eyes. This last picture made her stop. It was like a veil had dropped from her eyes and she stared at the dragon, who looked at her expectantly. Rothyr was looking at her triumphantly, sure that she was going to give him the White Diamond. Now she saw how truly evil and revolting he was. She shivered, thinking of how close she’d come to giving it to this vile creature. “No,” she said faintly, then again, stronger this time. “NO! I won’t give you the key to my own destruction. You are the Deceiver as they said, I should have listened to them in the first place. Your promises are empty and filled with lies,” she spat out. She held the White Diamond in her hands and closed her eyes. The dragon roared, but it seemed muted to her ears now.

The White Diamond pulsed in her hands and a murmur ran through the air, a low deep hum that reverberated in her bones. It thrummed through her body, growing louder, a humming song. Then it became a singular crystal clear sound that broke into many strings of sound, interweaving around her like birds in flight. She felt her heart connected to it, and the pounding in the White Diamond was an echo of her heart. Her hear was merging with this song that her own throat seemed to echo. Her arms and legs tingled with the surge of magic that ran through her veins and her heart raced as if she was a winged creature, climbing and fling across the vast seas and mountains, far above this small world.

She felt like the whole world was in her hands, control over everything before her. The connection and the swooping, soaring, unending song wrapped around her soul. She felt like she was being rocked in the ocean, kissed by the bright sun with a ray of warmth and peace, enwrapped in the magic of her heart and the magic the moment. It was as if her body had always known of this song that lay inside of her, but hadn’t been able to voice it before. Her heart was filled with the encompassing sounds and the feelings that tingled in her. Then it was done and she stood, stunned.

The power of the White Diamond poured through her. Christiana returned back to where she was and saw Rothyr angrily roaring. He opened his mouth and fire raged from his mouth. Purple cords of fire, of pure evil, surged towards her. But she stood calmly, unafraid because she knew she had the power to defeat him. White light created a halo, a protective barrier around her. She held out an open palm as the fire raced towards her. In her palm formed a small ball of energy, a crackling sensation of fire that was somehow white. She blew on it and it floated almost serenely into the path of the other fire. Where her breath spread, light flowed and the dragon’s evil fire simply dissipated until there was nothing left. 

Furious, Rothyr tried to attack her from behind with fire, but it did nothing to the girl bathed in light. He tried to smash her with his big and deadly tail but power flooded through her veins and she caught it midair. She hurled the surprised dragon to the ground, shaking it so that the earth began to quake under its forceful impact. Her voice as dangerously calm when she spoke again, her voice suddenly loud, amplified and booming through the mountain. “You killed Prince Alan. You used the evil in his heart and twisted it until it gestated, festered, and destroyed him from the inside out. You did that to him. I did not kill Peter, you only planted those doubts in my mind. You couldn’t kill me, and it was Peter who gave his life for mine, his sacrificial love more pure than you could ever be. And now, I am going to destroy you, for Peter, for my family, for everyone in this world needs to be rid of you.” 

Her eyes flashed as she shouted angrily, “Begone Evil One!” Then she screamed, a high pitched sound that took a physical shape and focus until it looked like an arrow of pure white that tore through the enraged, doomed dragon. The brilliant light around her pulsed brighter and faster. From the White Diamond poured more and more light that invaded the darkness. It seeped through Rothyr’s hard scales into his soft flesh, hurting his revealed skin and the light reached into the very core of his twisted, black heart, overpowering the evil darkness that writhed with its pure light. The dragon roared an anguished, hateful cry before falling with a heavy thud to the ground, weak and in pain with its severance in connection with the evil. Evil had choked the dragon for so long, he could no longer live without it, and the light was terrifying for him. It wrapped him in cords of white light, binding him to the ground. The dragon writhed, unable to break free, and lay panting, its shallow breathing labored and ragged. 

She watched as purple smoke seemed to ooze out from the dragon’s body and the white light from her chased it, smothering it. She smiled in satisfaction as she watched the good triumph over evil. Then she saw the dragon laying on the ground, twitching and writhing with the white cords of light that bound it.

Christiana stared at him, dazed, a tear trickling from her eyes. This horrible creature had used an innocent prince and killed the prince of her heart. Bitterness welled up in her and she closed her eyes, summoning the White Diamond’s power to destroy this enemy, but then a voice made her pause. STOP. She looked over her shoulder to see Tarin cantering towards her, one hind leg limp as the other three supported it. He stopped and she saw white light from the halo around her healing his wounds. A trickle of blood fell from a cut beneath his eye and looked painful before it began to heal slowly. 

His bruised and battered face was soft, his voice gently as he spoke. Do not kill Rothyr. Do not repay evil with evil. For then only evil will win. Let me help, I know what to do. He reached to touch her shoulder but she pulled away. “No! I have to kill him. He must die for what he’s done. You said yourself I have to get rid of this evil.” She looked at the dying dragon with her hatred gleaming darkly in her eyes. Tarin looked at her sadly.

Has evil found its way to your mind and torn you away from sanity? We cannot bring Peter back, but do not let hatred fester in your heart. The White Diamond will not respond to vengeful thoughts, now that its is pure. He was right, she saw, as she looked at it and sobbed as the power began to diminish. The light faded and the exhilaration she’d felt before, the magic tingling in her veins disappeared. It became a normal diamond again and she threw it away angrily. Tarin caught it deftly as she cried again, her anger dissipating in the thought of Peter. Would he have killed that creature? To avenge her death, would he have done it? 

She glanced up to see Tarin holding the Diamond and murmuring. Its power flared up again and tendrils of it danced around them, reaching out to the broken bodies of the High Council. For the creatures hovering on the brink of death, close to the line between life and death, they found that the light healed them. Though great, the White Diamond’s power could not raise the dead. 

Christiana stared mournfully at the sweet unicorn that had carried her only an hour before. It lay dead, and she cried over it. She hadn’t even known its name. As she watched, the living magical beings formed a circle, getting up and brushing off the blood that coated their healed wounds. Each touched so that they formed an unbroken chain, a bond of light that ran through them all. They chanted in unison and the light from the Diamond grew so bright that Christiana had to look away. She could hear Rothyr’s labored breathing and anguished cries as the light overtook him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Then there was silence and she opened her eyes. The dragon was gone, a large and burnt crater where it had lain and many scorch marks were all that was left. Had they destroyed him after all? She glanced up puzzledly around and then paused. In the center of the crater lay a baby. Christiana inhaled. “What happened to Rothyr and where did that baby come from?” Tarin carefully trotted down into the crater and scooped up the small child. The sweet baby, around one years old she guessed, cooed delightedly to find itself flying. This is Rothyr, or rather, it is a new being, innocent of the evils of the old Rothyr. She recoiled, pulling back the hand she’d been patting the baby’s head with. “This is Rothyr? How can that be?” 

“We used the magic to take him back to childhood, back to where his mind was innocent and free of evil. As they watched, purple smoke seemed to hang over the baby in a cloud, but Tarin blew gently on it and the smoke dissipated, disappearing into the air. The body is that of Rothyr, it is him, but the mind of an innocent babe once again. We are giving him a second life, a second chance. Christiana couldn’t look at the baby boy who now found amusement in pulling the centaur’s long hair. 

Estele walked up to her and Christiana found that she had still more tears to cry. One would have thought she had gone through so much she’d have lost the will to cry, but tears still came, and they still hurt. Estele laid her beak gently on her shoulder. She shrugged her off and the bird spoke softly in her mind. Child. I am sorry. “You already said that,” Christiana snapped. “But that won’t bring back my friends or anything. I hope you appreciate all the blood that was spilled to obtain your precious pure heart again that you gave away in the first place. Thats what you gave him, wasn’t it?” she was angry, but also correct. The phoenix looked away, confirming her question. 

You are right. There is nothing more powerful than love. Somehow, I had found love, not the romantic love that you would think, but a simple love and affection for the humans I had come to know. Christiana was tempted to snatch the Diamond from Tarin’s hands and smash it on the ground. But it is no longer my heart. It is simply a magical artifact now. I cannot take it back now that I have given it. Keep it with you, and use it when you need to, but only for good, not for selfish reasons.

Estele looked at her, remorse and sorrow in her golden eyes. I hope you will forgive me one day. I was wrong, and it was selfish of me to send you on the mission for my heart when I had thrown it carelessly away, but my intentions were pure. Christiana refused to answer and would not look at her. 

She heard the bird walk away and then Tarin came up to her, the baby in his arms. You must take this child and raise it as a human. Teach him of right and wrong and keep his heart pure. Christiana gaped angrily when he held the baby out to her, gently disentangling his locks of hair from the child’s grasp. “You don’t understand. I can’t take care of a baby! Especially that one, the one who will remind me everyday of what I have lost. The killer who destroyed the one I love and wrecked my life? Whether he is a child or an adult, he is the one responsible for the death of Prince Alan and led to my Peter’s death, and look! Look at the creatures you care for, all of the creatures he killed.”

She waved an arm imploring, trying to get him to understand. Many creatures had been healed by the White Diamond, but many had also died, and the blood and bodies lying on the battlefield was a ghastly and revolting sight. He does not know of that life any longer. “He’s still responsible! How can I take care of this monster? You take him, raise him with a pack of wolves for all I care,” she shouted. Tarin shook his head. He is a mere mortal without magic. Where he used to be the First of his kind, the dragons, he is now permanently in human form, and knows no other form. He does not belong in the world of forgotten creatures, in the world of magic. Take him, for there is no one else to do so.

She saw his reasoning but still refused to take him. “What about my family? What will they think if I bring a baby home?” A male fawn strode forward, its furry hind legs tapping the ground as he looked everywhere except at her. He wound his fingers together nervously. “I should tell you something, before you continue.” Christiana was surprised that this fawn spoke out loud, instead of in her mind as most of the creatures had. “The White Diamond did more than you think. It erased the memories of them. They have no memories of Peter. It will be easier for them. And they also believe that the child returned to the town with you, you found it on your way home, a baby, orphaned and abandoned.” 

Christiana almost shrieked, spooking the baby, who looked at her with a quivering lip, sensing her displeasure and it raised its little arms to the girl but she swatted his hands away. He began to cry and she felt badly and took him in her arms. He stopped crying immediately and she almost forgot he was a killer. She realized she was holding him and thrust him back at the centaur, who refused to take him back, so she set the baby on the ground as she yelled again, what the fawn had said only just making sense in her mind. “You erased their memories? No one remembers Peter? What about his father? Did I never go work at the castle? What about Prince Alan? He died as well!” 

The phoenix stood forlornly, its feathers low to the ground as it looked away from the frantic girl. It is for the best. Rothyr disrupted the balance between us and the humans. They needed to forget. We cannot have our kind hunted once more because of his foolishness. Prince Alan did not die, he is back in the castle, having never left of course. He is betrothed to a girl named Elena, a girl from your town. You did work at the castle, serving the princess, who gave you permission to leave her service and return to Tatira. When we return you, it will be a week after your return to Tatira. The blacksmith never had a son.

“So Peter never existed except to me,” she whispered, still standing in shock at that. “I want him back. I’m the only one who will remember him. It’s like he was never born. But I know he was, I remember all of those times we played together, the sunsets we watched together, the first kiss he gave me, and the last one I gave him.” She looked up, “what about his body?” It has returned to the dust, the light became his shroud and took his body away.

Take the baby and the White Diamond and care for them both. Think of Peter, he would want you to do the same. We will return you to your home now. And I will be near, if you call to me, I will return to you. If you do, I would hope it means that you have forgiven me. “Don’t expect to ever hear my voice,” she said bitterly, forgiveness the farthest thing from her mind. Tarin handed her the White Diamond and the baby,which she cradled in her arms. Loathe to drop it, loathe to keep it. “Don’t expect me to take care of it. I’ll let my family care for it but that is all.” That is all we ask. Thank you. You have done a great service for both your kind and for the ones the High Council rules over. He smiled a sad smile at her, knowing as she did the lives it had cost to do that service for others who were ignorant of that which had occurred. His empathy and sympathy made her feel like she was less alone, and then her world went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Christiana sat up, her heart pounding. She looked around to find herself back at home. Had that whole incident really happened? She pulled her covers back and then felt the baby roll next to her. She stiffened in surprise, stifling a yelp, and then jumped up. The baby cooed, dimples around its chubby cheeks as it beamed up at her, bubbling joy in its tinkling laughter as she picked it up and held it at arms length. The baby’s arms and legs kicked the air as he reached for Christiana’s long hair. She also saw the White Diamond laying on her bed. She picked it up and closed her eyes, waiting for the familiar feel of magic, but it lay silently in her hand. She shrugged and hid it in the bottom of her clothes chest.

She marched into the kitchen with the baby. Her family was already eating breakfast. Seeing her mother and father sitting at the table she felt the urge to run and hug them, having not seen them for a long time, but then she remembered that to them it had already been a week since she’d been back. “Take this,” she said, handing the baby off to her mother. “Good morning honey, are you hungry?” Her mother smiled and handed her a bowl of oatmeal hot off of the stove. “I was able to get some milk for the baby as well. With the presents Princess Aria sent you off with I can get lots of items I’d not been able to get before. She must have really liked you,” she said, eyeing the rings and gems the princess must have given her when she’d “gotten permission to leave the king’s service.” 

Christiana felt hungry and sat down at the table. “What day is it?” she asked through a mouthful of food. “Tsk tsk dear, don’t eat with your mouth full. Its the beginning of the new week.” She mumbled something unintelligible and kept eating. “Oh, have you thought of a name for this one? We’ve never named him, did you know that? You’d think we’d have done that right away, but no, we’ve just called him child and such.” Christiana got up, slamming her still full bowl on the table with a loud smack and stalked off to the fire pit, where she stoked the fire, making the flames jump with her angry pokes and prods. Her parents looked quizzically after her strange behavior. Her mother was still cuddling the baby, baffled by her daughter’s angry reply. “You choose. I don’t want anything to do with that baby anymore.” Her father got up and turned her around. “What’s wrong? You were so excited when you found the baby. You should name him, you found him in the first place.” “I just don’t want to!” 

She stormed away and walked outside. Her heart was heavy, her anger dissipating in the cool fall air. Her feet automatically began to lead her steps to the blacksmith. He smiled and waved as she came closer. “Hey miss Christiana. Good to have you back. How’s the baby?” He paused in his work at the forge, wiping sweat off of his brow as he looked at her. “Ah, the baby’s fine,” she said, forcing herself to smile back. “Did you need anything? Or just stopping by?” She smiled politely and said it was the latter and talked about how she was so very glad to be home again.

She turned to leave and he called out,“Oh yeah, before you go, I was going to tell you, my wife was wondering if Adele, your mother, would teach her how to make that delicious apple pie she made a few days ago.” Christiana stopped. She turned back to him, almost whispering. “Your wife?” He looked at her pale face. “Uh yeah, my wife was ill a few days ago and your mother made the most wonderful meal for us while I took care of her.” “Oh, I’ll let her know. Thanks for your time.” He nodded and went back to his work, banging the makings of an iron horse shoe. 

So his wife was alive? Christiana hadn’t expected that. But what had she expected? She’d thought life would be the same. How could it be, she thought bitterly, when Peter wasn’t here. She trudged home slowly, shivering in the cold breeze that shook more leaves from the almost bare trees. All of her thoughts were on Peter.

She walked around, unable to fathom living here without Peter.She dredged up every memory she had of him, repeating them over and over him her mind so that she would never forget him. Before, she recalled her painful days after his death, she at least had others to cry with her. Now she had no one. No one could ever understand the depth of her pain and love of a man who had never existed.

When she got home, her father was smiling and bouncing the baby on his lap. She felt sick. This baby was the reason she had all of this sorrow. She pretended to smile and took the baby from him, saying she was going to play with him in her room. Setting him on her bed and closing her door, she stared at it. Tears running down her cheeks. Tears of bitterness and anger, emotions flickering through her rapidly. The baby stared at her, its mouth in a small frown. It could tell she was unhappy, but couldn’t discern why. He reached towards her, one small hand touching her cheek and she flinched. The arm pulled back and he sat silently next to the sobbing girl. Then she took him back downstairs and fled, leaving him behind, unable to bear being in the same room as him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the next few weeks she ignored the baby completely. She pretended she was fine, but she brushed off her family when they invited her to help care for the baby, and would leave. Townspeople were constantly trying to talk to her, and she would talk to them, happy for the distraction. She was becoming a great actress, she mused. It grew easier and easier to smile when told to, to talk of the baby like she actually cared about it, and to help people who’s problems seemed miniscule to her own torturous feelings.

When she wasn’t pretending in front of the town, she spent her time outdoors, recollecting memories of Peter and keeping him in her memory so that she would never forget him. Her heart beat faster when she thought she heard his voice one day in the silence of the forest. She’d whirled around, only to be disappointed when all she saw was the empty clearing behind her and the sun that shone through the forest. How could the sun shine when something was missing? Didn’t anyone realize that something was wrong? It was wrong, not having Peter. He had existed, she asserted firmly, it was everyone else who had forgotten. They were at fault, she thought angrily.

Christiana placed a hand over her beating heart. She almost wished it was covered in molten silver, something to make all the hurting stop, all the hope. She wanted something to ease the pain in her heart, to heal the bruises to her loneliness. Every once in a while the sadness would take control and one day she yelled in frustration to the sky, but nothing answered her. She tripped and a stick impaled her arm when she reached out to stop her fall. Wincing, she yanked the bloodied stick out. Blood dripped down her arms like silent tears. Where the cut lay, blood seeped out, soaking into the dry ground, her silent tears poured into the earth.

She walked home, the wound still bleeding where she’d pulled out the small stick. Her mother had been frantically worried about her and she’d told them the simple truth that she’d tripped and hit the stick. She sat in her room, feeling the bandage her mother had placed on the wound. It throbbed, and she didn’t feel like carrying the baby out of her room when it crawled in. She just stared at it, not really feeling hatred anymore. It had been so long. 

Her father came in and she stared at the ground. “Are you okay Christiana? You haven’t been yourself lately.” She nodded and they sat silently. “Is it a boy?” he finally asked. She cracked a smile at that and shook her head. “No. Well,” she tried to think of a way to edge around the subject of Peter. “It’s just that I lost someone close to me back in the castle, and it’s made me sad.” She realized how lame that sounded, but her father just nodded in understanding. “I know things can be hard, losing people you love and care for, but you have become so monotone and lifeless, it scares your mother and I. We watch you grow thinner and more restless and silent. Don’t you think maybe it’s time to move on?” He held up his hands, when Christiana glared at him. “I won’t ever forget them!” “That’s not what I meant,” he said soothingly. “I’m saying it is hindering your life. Their life has ended, but yours continues and you should do something about it. I don’t think they would want you to mope around while you still have a bright future ahead of you.” She remained silent and he soon got up, the bed squeaking as his weight left it, and then he left. Scooping up the baby, he walked away, leaving her with her thoughts.

Thinking about the past events, made her think of Estele, the phoenix. Christiana sat up from where she’d been laying on her bed and wondered, was she still there? She remembered the sorrow the bird had had when she’d seen her. She’d never forgiven her before. She ran outside that night to the edge of the forest and looked up for the bright stars, but they were hidden by clouds. “Estele? Are you there?” She whispered the words, half hoping, half despairing when no answer seemed to come. Then she heard a small familiar cry, and she turned her eyes to the skies. “Estele! You really did come back. You’re real.” 

Some part of her had almost wondered if what had happened was real or simply a dream. This was no dream. The phoenix was flying over the forest towards her, looking like a comet, on fire and beautifully lighting up the night sky. She landed with a soft thud, looking deeply into Christiana’s eyes. You called me? Hope was in the phoenix’s eyes and Christiana felt a pang of guilt for not calling her before this. 

She’d been so wrapped up in herself, she’d forgotten that Estele had pain of her own. “Yes, I did. Because, I wanted to apologize. I never called you back. Never got a chance to say, I forgive you. And I do. I truly forgive you, you didn’t mean for any of that to happen. You did what you did for love, and when I think about it, I probably would have done something like that too.” 

She could almost feel Estele’s smile and reached gently up to the bird’s neck and gave a quick squeeze like a hug. They stood there in this tender moment, silent and calm and then the phoenix spoke again. Thank you. You have given me peace about this. I have tortured myself for doing what I did to you. While I must go now, you have only to call and I’ll come again when I can. I know you have doubted whether the events that have occurred really happened. 

Take this. The phoenix opened its large beak and in it lay a necklace, a pretty ruby pendant hung on a delicate gold chain. She picked it up and put it around her neck, feeling a slight tingle. “Is this magical?” Estele nodded. Yes. If you need me, call me and I will feel it through there if I am far away. And it is a reminder for you, wear this and remember that what happened really happened. And so did Peter. And Peter is in your heart.

Christiana watched, misty eyed, as the phoenix took off, leaving her with a shrill shriek as it flew away, the fiery blaze disappearing into the horizon. She realized she’d been talking all night and the sun was beginning to peek over the distant mountains. Running home, she went straight to the baby. He was sleeping but woke groggily when she went in to her mother and father’s room and picked him up. She carried him to her room and held him gently in her arms. When she looked in his eyes this time, she did not see the killer Rothyr, but an innocent baby. How long had she ignored this baby thinking it was Rothyr? This was no longer the dragon consumed by evil. The baby was happy to see her and she tickled it, watching it giggle with a slight smile on her face. “You have gone without a name for long enough. I shall call you Amar, for it means hope. This is a new day, a fresh start.” She smiled at Amar and he smiled back, a cute, innocent child, a symbol of her new beginning.

There was one more thing she wanted to do so she could feel peace again. She went to the  hill where she and Peter had spent many days together, sitting at the top of it, feeling like they owned the world. She walked up it slowly, thinking of all of her fond memories. She sat at the top for awhile, bathing in the sunlight that got higher in the sky. The village below her began to wake, but she didn’t pay any attention. In her pocket was a piece of parchment. Before she’d left home she’d written a letter. A love letter of sorts, she thought. 

Dear Peter, my love,

Things have changed so much. Last year, if someone was to ask me whether or not I could live without you, I would have said no, horrified at the thought. Even now, I recall the pain I went through without you there by my side and knowing that no one would ever even know of your existence and how it’s blessed me. But time continues to move along even though your life has departed from this world. And I’ve realized that I had immortalized you in my mind, you had become an obsession and because I care so much about you, it’s holding me back. If I wait until I can see you again beyond the shallow confines of this world, I will die slowly, my life force dissipating and flowing away. And my life will have been wasted on memories, on the past that I cannot change. I know that you would have been sad to know that I had had pain over your parting and would have hoped that I could find love of some sort again. We will be apart for a little while longer no matter how much I wish I could see you again. I know I can never bring you back, and so I’m writing this so that I can have peace once again. I’m telling you that my love for you will never fade in my heart, you will always be my first and only love, and I’ll never forgot. But holding onto you has brought me too many mixed emotions and too many ties to my bitterness and past. I will never forget you, but it’s time to let you go, forgive myself, forgive Rothyr, and begin to live.

Love, 

Christiana Emory

Christiana dug a small hole with her hands, and reverently set the paper in there. Pushing dirt back over the top of the parchment, she covered up her letter with trembling fingers but a light heart. She knew of course, that the paper would soon erode and disappear into the earth, and would appear meaningless to anyone else who might find it, but it was good to let it out for once. Light footsteps behind her made her stop and stand up, not daring to look behind her.

He walked up the hill, and she turned, her heart stopping as she looked at him again. He was as handsome as ever as he smiled at her. She could hardly breathe as he looked at her with such love she could hardly bear it. Her feet felt rooted towards the ground and mixed emotions flowed through her. The lingering sound of his voice, the smell she associated with him was fading. He was smiling, a sad, but peaceful smile, and she found she was able to smile as well, a painless smile back at her love. “Goodbye Peter,” she whispered, as the precious image of her Peter faded away, and she stood silently, tears falling from her eyes. Her tears were not tears of pain, not tears of sorrow, but of peace and happiness to have seen him one last time. She stared at the spot he had faded away from, as if she could bring him back with her glance. 

Then she took a breath and exhaled, taking in the freshness of nature. Birds crooned and she could smell the grass, the scents of earth. To her right she could see the sun rising in its glorious arrays of reds, a fireball of color. She turned back to the slowly waking village called Tatira and thought of the baby Amar that waited for her, and of her parents that got up and began preparing for the day. Lifting her arms to the open and bright blue sky above her, she smiled, peace blossoming from the deepest part of her heart. She felt more free than she had ever felt, so alive at that moment, and she knew she would not exchange her current position for all the riches of the world.