Angeline's world

1694 Words
*** Angeline’s POV ***  The night was warm, the breeze swept across my skin in a soft, delicate way. The sun was beginning to kiss the horizon as pink, orange and red hues followed closely behind it, turning the once blue sky into a master art piece.  I was resting in my favourite place, my back against my favourite tree, watching the sun bid its elegant farewell over my kingdom.  To my left was the Village, full of housing and shopping centres. It was a treat to visit the Village, something my family didn't do very often being royals.  To my right was the ocean. The castle I call home rested just off the shoreline and its view was an incredible sight. Especially first thing in the mornings as the sun rose and reflected off the softly crushing waves.  This place, my kingdom, is the Hatchling Hills – it’s named after the hatchlings that are born here all year round. Our kingdom rests close to the equator, it’s essentially summer all year round hence our shores being blessed by the coming and going of turtles. It really was a beautiful sight. With thanks to my ancestors who claimed the land and built the castle here, it’s protected land so the turtles have the best chance of survival.  Usually, every weekend my closest brother and I head to the beach at sunrise, looking for new nests. It had become our favourite pastime to mark out the new nests so our villagers wouldn’t accidentally disturb them. Our kingdom revolved around these beautiful creatures; we all loved nature and did our best to nourish it.  A smile had swept across my face as I closed my eyes and thought about my kingdom, the hatchlings and everyone’s efforts to save and nourish the wildlife. I couldn’t be more proud to call this my home.  I was brought back to reality when I thought I heard a growl behind me. We didn’t have wild animals this close to the castle. I stood and turned towards the bushes attempting to investigate my surroundings but I couldn’t see anything. Then I heard it again, it was definitely a growl but this time it was deeper.  I stood frozen by shock, probably looking like the world’s biggest noob. Before I could move, I watched the bushes rustle as the animal fled the area, headed towards the beach. I stepped in its departing direction when another a voice interrupted my curiosity forcing me to once again freeze.   “Angeline, where are you?”   s**t it was Bertha. Bertha's the head maid of the castle. She’d been hired by father when he and mother first settled and made this castle their home 25 years ago. Bertha was a strange character, I never grew to like her.  She was short and had a course, raspy voice that cut through the air like a sharp knife could cut through paper. Her wrinkles sagged around her blackened, evil eyes and worsened when she smiled. If she gave two hoots about herself she’d buy some anti-aging skin care; it’s not as if she was dirt poor. Yes, we are royals and could pay her a minimum wage, but we didn’t. Father taught us to treat our help with nothing but the highest regard and respect, so I knew she had the money to look after herself. Her greying hair could fool anyone who could have sworn she was in her late 70s; when in reality, we had only just celebrated her 50th birthday last week.  “Hurry up and come inside will you, you’ll be late and heaven forbid that happens this evening! NOW, Angeline!” Bertha barked.   I couldn’t go anywhere without Bertha’s screeches following close behind me. It was if having alone time was banned and punishable.  I inhaled my last breath of fresh air, attempting to enjoy the last shred peacefulness and the view before me before sprinting back to the castle. I reached Bertha, panting from my short burst of exercise. Her blackened eyes sliced through me, full of complete hate.  “This evening has been arranged for you. You will most certainly not be late on a day like today! And you will not disgrace your father in front the guests! Now hurry that skinny boned body of yours back to your room at once! Abbie and Chari are waiting for you so they can attack these so-called curls and attack that dull face of yours. Go. Now.” Her eyes were seething with hate as she took in my features. She had almost growled the last two words, sending a shiver down my spine.  I didn’t waste another second with that horrid old hag. I glared at her before whisking my body down the halls. Every time there was some form of event being held for one us kids, Bertha always said ‘don’t disgrace your father’ as if he was the only thing in the world that mattered. She always changed her tune when father was around, almost like a love-sick puppy. It made all of us irk. It didn’t matter how many times we had brought her behaviour up with mother but despite the sadness in her eyes, she just dismissed us.   We all adored Mav, he was the one in the family that could soften anyone regardless how bad their mood was – everyone except Bertha.    Another reason I didn’t trust or like her.   If you didn’t love Mav, then we didn’t like you.  I swear she hated all of us though. There were six of us kids in total; a true clan and army. My brother Dimitri is the eldest at 22, then Elijah who’s 20, I’m third in line, followed by the twins Genevieve and Gianni who are 16 and then there’s Maverick aka Mav. He’s the youngest, most mischievous and definitely the cutest of the clan at age 6.    We even behaved like our own little regiment, protecting and sticking up for one another. Whenever we were up to something that we knew Bertha would hate, or could get us in trouble, we used the code name ‘mouse’ to cover ourselves. 1 – Bertha hated mice and would run in the opposite direction; and 2 – we had a mice plague the same year the twins were born and we occasionally still see them make their way into the castle. It was perfect for us.  I was walking bristly through the castle halls, making my way as fast as I could to my room. I hated traditions, especially ones like tonight that put me in the spotlight. Don’t get me wrong, I welcomed the company and meeting new people with open arms but to be the centre of attention was another story. Tonight was in celebration of me turning 18 and officially being on the market as a single lady, princess and future queen for all of the princes of our allies to gawk at like I was a piece of meat that they were hungry to devour.  Our closest allies are staying with us in the castle while either the ones we didn’t trust or our newest allies would be staying in the village. Of course, we didn’t disclose this information to them – we simply said first in first served but mother was devious – she had sent the invites to our closest allies two weeks ahead of the rest. I know this because I helped her!  It was events like tonight that made the castle come alive with life and love – it made the castle appear almost magical and I loved seeing the halls filled with people.    My best friends from school are here, too. But I won’t be able to see them or speak to them tonight until after I’ve dance with a few of the guests aka any man that could potentially be husband material.  Cue the groans.     I groaned at the idea of marriage to ‘entrust a strong union before the crown’. What bull. As long as you have decent and trustworthy advisors, you should be OK to rule alone. But history would advise us otherwise. Even then, I have argued but to no prevail, that history would advise us that people entered in to marriages for all of the wrong reasons. Which was frequently the case!     The only peace of mind I have is the fact that I’m not being pressured by my parents to marry someone straight away. They are; however, expecting me to at least be engaged by the time I’m 19. Again, groan.  I don’t even know what I want to do at college let alone who to freaking marry and the thought of having to provide an heir was just faint-worthy.  What if I meet someone tonight who’s dreamy and charming, with a killer body, only to wake up in the morning and realise he chews with his mouth open? Being someone with misophonia, this was less than ideal. Something I had complained about to my maids and my girlfriends – all of them laughed at me – not one ounce of validation came from any of them! Bloody traitors.  It took me a decent 10 minutes to make it all the way back to my room. Welcome to living in a castle. I swear it’d be easier if we had golf buggies to drive in the halls, or at least Segways but I knew Bertha would flip and curse us. Then again, the thought of her being angry with her veins popping brought a sadistic smile to my face.    Just as I reached my door, I could hear Beyoncé’s I AM World Tour blasting from inside. My maid’s always knew how to get me pumped and ready when either a) my stomach was doing back-flips or b) I just wasn’t interested. Tonight, I was a wreck with symptoms of both option a) and b) – making me ‘even more difficult to deal with’. Words my mother had used earlier in the week.  I took a few moments to myself to breathe and settle my nerves before tugging on the door knob, making my entrance known to the two girls I have not only grown up with but have also grown to love like sisters. 
Free reading for new users
Scan code to download app
Facebookexpand_more
  • author-avatar
    Writer
  • chap_listContents
  • likeADD