I was rudely woken from my slumber by a loud knock on my chambers. It was hard and hasty, unlike the soft, polite knocks every morning. Servants of the royal family are supposed to follow a set of rules, and refraining from loud, impolite mannerisms is one of them.
I get out of bed with a scowl, irritated at having my beauty sleep interrupted. If I find any servants lingering outside the door, they won't be hearing the last of it. Everyone knows better than to ruin my sleep so harshly.
Slipping on my slippers, I make my way towards the door, while patting down my hair that's standing out from odd angles. Even the second-in-line has to maintain an image of perfection, lest something happen to the heir.
My older sister, Avaline, is heir to the throne, the one who has to bear the brunt of royal duties. Although I'm jealous of her for being the next on the throne, I wouldn't want to have her life. I can see how much of a burden it is to her, taking classes from day to night and making public appearances whenever it is necessary.
According to my parents, Ava will be taking over next year, a few days after her twentieth birthday. She doesn't seem excited for the big day, but she has to paste on a smile whenever that topic is brought up, as is necessary of the heir.
I throw open the door, ready to give my maids a piece of my mind, but the person I see standing there is not one of them. He's not even female.
One of the palace guards—I don't know his name—is standing there, that helmet obscuring his features. The metal nametag on his chest reads Officer Melbourne. I wonder if he's a new recruit. I haven't heard that name before.
"Your highness," he falls into a stiff, but measured bow. That posture does not fit a rookie. Has he been working here for some time? Whatever, it doesn't matter. He ruined my sleep. New recruit or not, I will be teaching this guy a lesson. Does he think princesses enjoy being woken up so brutally?
"Yes?" I ask impatiently. "What is it?"
"His majesty the King is asking for you, your highness," he mutters under his breath, avoiding eye contact. Good. I make him nervous. So he should know better than to get on my bad side, then.
"Now?" My brows furrow in confusion. I sneak a glance at the clock perched atop my bedside table, taking note of the time. It is only six a.m. I don't usually wake until half-past, since classes start at eight and I take about an hour to get ready.
The guard—Officer Melbourne—bows his head lightly. "Yes, your highness. His majesty said it was important."
Important? If it's important, shouldn't my father be asking Avaline? The heir? What does he want with me?
"I see," I say. "Well then, lead the way, Officer."
He nods politely and turns, walking down the hallway with me in tow. His long strides carry him further than my legs could me, making irritation flare deep within me.
Isn't it a common rule for guards and servants alike to walk at the pace of the royals accompanying them?
Officer Melbourne walks me through winding passages adorned with hanging tapestries, decorations, and fancy vases sitting on elegant, small tables. Exquisite, velvet curtains in red are hung over paintings of my ancestors, pinned back by curtain brackets. A velvet carpet covers the hard ground, muffling our footsteps as we walk. Servants scurried about, carrying out their duties efficiently, afraid of being caught slacking. My mother can be quite a brute when it comes to lecturing those who don't carry out their jobs properly.
We stop by the looming doors of the throne room, the place where my father spends most of his time. Officer Melbourne pushes the heavy doors open, revealing the vast area beyond. My father's throne rests on the raised platform, a red carpet leading to it. The massive chair was fixed with jewels of all kinds, sparkling in the streaming sunlight. My mother's smaller, but no less elegant, throne sat beside my father's, seating her.
My mother is dressed in lavish green today, a color that complements her white-blond hair amazingly. Her heavy crown is placed on her small head, the head that does not snap under the weight of the metal. But I suppose my father's crown is heavier, as are his royal robes decked with badges of all kinds. They are both wearing the colors of Udova, my kingdom: silver and green. A combination that all royals of Udova have to wear. My sister, especially. I don't see her here. Maybe this matter is none of her business.
The Officer stations himself beside the doors, leaving me to walk forward on my own. I reach the base of the platform and bend into a curtsy, as is required of a princess. Our parents are nothing more than the King and Queen to us. Sometimes, I find myself envying kids whose parents give them all the time in the day. But I suppose as a royal, I am lucky to be bestowed with freedom of choice, unlike many of my royal connections around the world.
"You called for me, mother, father?" I ask, standing up straight. My parents stare down at me from their places on their thrones, but their gazes don't make me uncomfortable. I know my parents love me, and whatever they have to say won't harm me. Even if it is something I don't like, they'll give me a choice. They always give me a choice.
"Princess," my father greets. "There is some news we have to share. I'm afraid you won't like it."
I unconsciously tip my head to the side, a sign that I am listening. So far, it is nothing I was not expecting. Most of the things my father has to say always start like this.
"I am aware that you have to go to school this morning, so I will make it quick. The rest, we will inform you after you arrive back home." My father continues to speak, watching me for any reaction. "I have had you brought here so you will be warned, they might arrive when you are still at school, and we do not want to give you a heart attack."
My brows furrow in confusion. What is father talking about? Who is "they," and why are they arriving at our castle today?
"What do you mean, father?" I ask politely.
The King takes a deep breath, bracing himself for the words. His expression darkens, as if just saying the words is painful for him. "The Ardon royals will be visiting this afternoon to discuss a peace treaty. They believed it was about time this meaningless conflict came to an end. We agreed, of course. The war was not doing any good to our kingdom, either."
I suck in a gasp, the words doing their best to shock me. The Ardon royals are coming here? Our enemy kingdom's king and queen? For a peace treaty? But I thought that Ardonians were the most stubborn of the bunch and would never give in first. That's what I was taught, and likefully so. The Ardonian kids at school are the worst.
Father notices my astonishment and chuckles. "I see you are surprised, daughter. As was I. But King Russo insisted that this is not a ploy, as their resources are running out and another war will destroy them." He chuckles again, finding sick amusement in Ardon's misfortune.
"I see," I mutter under my breath, but the throne room's acoustics carry the sound to my parents' ears nonetheless.
"Vivienne," my mother speaks up, her voice soft and laced with affection and…guilt? "Remember to change into something nice when you return. I think that gown you had custom-made would do wonderfully."
I quirk a brow in confusion. What is all this about?
"But mother, why?"
My mother looks away, avoiding my gaze. What the hell? What's wrong? But instead of her, my father speaks up, his expression stoic and voice cold, sending shivers down my spine. I have never heard my father talk like this, not to me, anyway. What's going on?
"You will do as you are told, Princess Vivienne. And you will not argue. Is that understood?"
I hesitate a moment, a sinking feeling in my stomach stopping me from speaking. I feel like I shouldn't say yes to whatever it is that my father is asking of me. But these are my parents we're talking about. I can't just disobey them. I want them to be proud of me. If obeying them is the only way I can repay them for everything they have done for me, then so be it.
"Yes, father," I try to sound confident, but my voice comes out weak and frail. Even though it's just a simple word, a simple answer to a simple question, I can't help but feel like that's not all there was to it.
I hope that this peace treaty has nothing to do with me. I can offer a few words if my parents ask for it, but there is nothing more I can do. I'm not the heir after all.
There is nothing more I can do.