THE FEUD #1

CHAPTER 3

NOVENA

There is a term for how I feel, one that fits so nicely for how I look as well – groggy. The sickly sensation is accompanied by a skull splitting headache courteous of too much fine wine and dehydration. I even danced, despite myself. Repeatedly. Usually, I limit that time to fit only a few dance partners – there’s nothing like having someone too close for comfort that really shouldn’t be trying in the first place.

And I smell like an ashtray.

I groan as I pull my exhausted body from beneath the thick light grey duvet and soft blankets of dark nudes and greys. As always Emmaline is cuddled beneath the covers on the other side of the super king-sized bed, like she doesn’t have her own bed. Her waist-length, straight auburn-red hair curtaining her pale face as she sleeps on despite my movements.

Miss Emmaline Divinus.

Emmaline has been my closest friend since childhood. Emmaline’s story of how she came to reside in the palace is a long and cruel one, but I am grateful for her every day. I was nine when I came across her in the forests on the outskirts of the palace's grounds, where the tall ancient trees grow along the rolling mountains. Mountains that supposedly lead to the Magna Terra with only the Protective Barrier as a safeguard against the unknown beyond. She had blood on her torn dirty clothes and matted bright red hair. I’m glad her hair colour softened into a more auburn red now, it complements her snow-white skin so much better. I shudder to think how I found her, and no one really asked many questions to the emotionless pale and bone-thin child. Her parents were dead, she had told the palace guards and she had no relatives to her knowledge. She stayed at the palace for a while. It wasn’t supposed to be permanent, but we became fast friends and as the princess, I didn’t have many friends. Unlikely as it seems, my mother did not separate us. She ended up staying as my companion, schooling with me and attending important occasions by my side. We are twenty-one this year, twelve years of friendship has made us inseparable, and she has become part of the family. She eventually told me why I found her as I did. Her parents had lived in a small cottage-like home in the mountains, living off the land.

We lived like wild people, she had said.

One day her parents didn’t return from a hunting trip. She waited for four months living on the rashers of food stored, but by the fifth month she was starving. Winter was coming, and the food was gone. She packed what she could carry and left the cottage trying to search for the town her parents visited every so often. On the fourth day, she found the bones of two decaying skeletons scattered in a tall glass field. There were bullet holes in the skulls of the skeletons. Somebody or multiple people had murdered her parents. On the sixth day, I found her. The Blood was from a fall she had down a slight drop, after trying to slowly make her descent. We never found out exactly who killed her parents despite my father’s attempts and eventually the matter was let go. I felt a deep sadness for her loss and the pain she endured, but I was grateful that her trials led her to me. Smiling at her sleeping form, I turn towards the ensuite bathroom, just as a maid enters my suite. Delighted, I order a hot bath and breakfast for Emmaline and myself.

While the maid attends to the bath, I stroll around my suite. I love that it is so bright with the large wall-length windows giving an excellent view of the evergreen forest and mountains in the distance from the fifth floor. The main area is a large open-plan master bedroom and lounge with steel full-length windows that span across the far wall. Large white rugs decorate the wooden floors with an electric fireplace mounted on the wall perches between the two ensuite dressing rooms. The second bedroom was an entertaining room before Emmaline moved into my suite about ten years back.

Upon seeing the common room she was staying in at the castle, I relocated her myself. My father didn’t find out until seven months later, but instead of removing her from my private areas, he ordered the entertainment room to be converted to a bedroom. Not that Emmaline ever uses her bedroom other than to store her personal belongings.

The running water finally stops as I leave my musing, dismissing the maid to the kitchen. I enter the bathroom of blacks, whites and greys, giving it a modern clean feel and look. Grabbing the music remote from its glass holder by the door, I skip albums till I find soft peaceful melodies to fill my ears. The white tub perks on a raised dark wooden floored area at the far end of the bathroom in front of the full-length windows. Closest to the door is the double glass shower with a white lit strip in the middle for the various products, a long blackish wooden cupboard before it. Placing the music remote back in its glass holder, I quickly move to the table, pulling one of the many white towels from a deep shelf before making my way over to the tub. Grabbing liquids from a tall narrow black wooden shelf beside the tub, I pour scented skin softener and bubbles into the steaming clear water. Removing my clothes, I sink into the refreshing heat and drop my head back on the pillows framing the tub's white walls against the window in a semi-circle at my back. I dip my head under the scented water, holding my breath before resurfacing as a new person. Not literally but damn, I feel good. I hear the door open and close before Emmaline comes dragging her feet into the bathroom looking much as I had moments ago. I laugh as she struggles to get out of her clothes and climbs into the tub across from me. The tub is so large that I don’t feel her legs as she stretches her body in comfort. I patiently wait for her to open her smoky black lid eyes again, saying nothing as I roll my head to the side to watch her. Groaning, she opens her heavy eyes, skylight blue pupils stare back at me. My mouth drops.

“Shut up.” she snaps.

“I didn’t say anything?” I laugh.

“Your face did.” She glares then sinks further beneath the water.

The red in her hair flares in the light streaming in through the windows as it floats on the water’s surface. Emmaline has made the most of her connection to my family and has an honours degree in law. She wasn’t schooled when I first started seeking her friendship. She told me as much. I ended up dragging her to my classes while we were children. She made it more interesting, she was as competitive as I was, and my private teacher never said a word about her new student but instead took the time to help her catch up to me. Despite my father’s grumbling about how the classes in society should not mix, he had no foot to stand on. I shared my dresses with her, so she never looked like a servant while she had also received the same education, not only as a student, but as a lady. After her sixteenth birthday, my father summoned her to his side. I went with, curious as to what he would have to say. When we met with him, he took her small hands in his very large one. My father is not a small man even at his current age. The leader of a country had to look as formidable as that title made him, he always said. But he is also a kind king, he told her that although she shared no blood with him, she would always be considered family. I had no need to insist that she join me as my companion to a private university in Sanelane State. My father, being a generous man, sent her with everything she needed to be considered equal to the other students. We have shared every experience of our lives together.

My thoughts are interrupted by a slight little blonde haired servant's arrival with breakfast and coffee. Professing to praise the ground the servants walk on; Emmaline grabs the filtered coffee plunger from the cart and pours two cups. We stuff our faces with the delights of breakfast and laugh while discussing the fashion statements that should and should not have happened at the events occurring the previous night. After, we scrub our faces, bodies and hair before pinning the wet strains of hair above our heads. Settling into our third cup of filtered coffee, Emmaline picks through the magazines on the cart.

I glance at the faces on the covers that she flips through looking for one that interests her. I catch sight of Axel on the Champion cover. The media have always loved him, despite his unfortunate family situation. He is the most notoriously loved celebrity in the South. Most definitely for his personality, but also because Axel has a face like an angel, along with a wicked right fist. The sport had picked up after all the wars. The Champion held fighting competitions throughout the year for the lower ranking fighters and more selected events for the top players. Both Ragnar and Axel reside in the top ten.

Finally, Emmaline settles on the second last magazine on the cart. “So… William Goodman is charming.” Emmaline says, lifting a magazine with my face on the front and boldly typed words saying:

‘IS THE JEWEL STOLEN? Princess Novena Mace’s potential husband hunt sparks interest in Lord William Goodman, the oldest son of Lord John Goodman, the Duke of Cliffadere.’

Curious, I slide over to her as she flips through to the centre page where another picture has me gasping in shock. The after party is where the real juicy stuff happens. Artists took turns playing their best music, while a famous actor is caught cheating on his wife, Big Man - a sportsman hooks up with well-known sisters in the fashion and modelling industry, and I have my lips pressed against William Goodman’s face with my arms wrapped around his neck.

“If you love me, you will drown me now,” I cringe, staring at the close-up. “Why would I do that to myself?” I sneer, sighing loudly and dragging it out.

“Honestly don’t know how you are going to face your father,” she giggles behind her cup and I’m tempted to send water flying at her, “Or Ragnar. Aren’t they good friends?” she asks, appearing to be searching her memory.

“Yes, very good friend.” I groan.

I pick up the last magazine and pause at the cover. It's a Foreign Muse publication, the only magazine that has been allowed into North Continere. South Continere and North Continere began an uneasy friendship of sorts during my Grandmother's reign. A trade agreement now stands, with Cliffadere State sparing their land, as well as land in North Continere, to form a small territory of mutual ground. This is where trade markets have begun to thrive, with the supervision of the state’s nobility, who so happens to be Lord John Goodman. The friendship along with the continued success and economic wealth sparked attention from the news on both sides back during the early years. Eventually, a request was made to allow magazines and paparazzi to cover social occasions of celebrities and high-profile people in North Continere by a Gorgensberg man. The request was accepted on the condition that South Continere would be willing to allow the same privilege. My grandmother was willing, seeing an opportunity to gather information on a people and culture long changed since humans walked among them. And so Foreign Muse was created by the Gorgensberg man, named Micheal Dearson in collaboration with a popular magazine in North Continere. Foreign Muse released articles and news from both Continere’s once every four months, making it the most anticipated magazine. Bursting with excitement I grabbed Foreign Muse’s, searching the front page, which showed a close-up of a silver kissed man in a dark grey suit lounging in a gold throne with a matching gold crown slightly tilting to the side on his head. His right hand rests on the arm of the throne as his chin sits in the palm of his left hand, while he stares intensely at the camera, his silver eyes burning.

The headline reads: ‘The Wolf of the North impatient for his birthright as heir to the throne’ with the article reading that Prince Zelus was becoming impatient about taking the throne and pressuring his parliament to vote for him to be crowned despite his unmated status.

There are currently four named ‘Regius’s' as they are collectively known. The Regius’s consists of the future King, Prince Zelus Regius and his cousin Prince Phobos, who is the second in command, and their mutual cousins, the siblings Princess Selene and her younger brother Prince Pallas, the North Continere’s ambassador. Prince Pallas is due to appear at our Palace by his request in the coming days - on what business it is unknown. I couldn’t deny that there is excitement. He is known as the prettiest man on the Continere, with a face that could rival Axel's and messy white hair. I read over the article again. The Article on Prince Zelus’s unmated status is truly interesting, releasing never-known-knowledge that in their custom, an individual of power could not claim authority without being mated and therefore even the Prince could not be King without his Queen.

“What are you looking at so intensively?” my eyes snap up from the magazine at the sound of Emmaline’s voice.

Emmaline peeps at me through the gap that she creates by lifting the face cloth lying over her eyes up at the corner.

“It's Foreign Muse.” I say.

“Oh!” Emmaline pops up, splashing water while reaching for the magazine eagerly.

I reluctantly give it to her, and she settles back against the tub, her eyes already scanning the pages as she flips through it. I watch her as she pauses, her eyes lingering on the page where the entire Regius family are photographed. They were captured strolling onto the streets in front of a large historical-looking building, wearing formal business wear. The Regius’s, as they were known collectively, were stunning with their stylish elegance and famous silver hair standing out against the colours of the building behind them. Zelus graces the viewers with a rare full open-mouthed smile, like he was caught laughing, lighting his handsome face. His hand is on Selene’s upper back as if guiding her. Selene gives a less enthusiastic smile that leaves her high cheekbones strikingly visible with her thick long silver ponytail pulled high on her head. Pallas stands at the front ginning, giving a cheeky wink while running a hand though his short wavy hair playing around his heart-shaped face. Lastly, the serious looking general, Phobos, brings up the rear. He gives a much more intense expression, his hands in his pockets, his shoulder-length hair half in a bun with a slight parting of full lips, like he was caught by surprise. Quite possible that they were. It is common knowledge that the Regius’s don't entertain staged photo shoots but rather allowed paparazzi to catch them in the moment and sometimes gave a smile or two, but not for long and it really depended on which Regius you find. Pallas is known for his forwardness and more outgoing nature while Phobos is known for his standoffish nature and intensity. Zelus had mood swings. And Selene was the most photographed famous person in North Continere.

“I’m so sad these people are Werewolves, with chosen life partners and all, because I would really climb into bed with any of them.” Emmaline declares.

I can’t help grinning at my best friend as she makes outlandish declarations, “Even Selene?”

“Especially Selene!” she returns with a grin back at me.

I laugh at her play but in all honesty… “Okay, yeah they are one good looking family.”

“So is yours, with your green eyes and dark hair. If I didn’t know your brother, I would totally be into him.” She points her finger slightly in the air while she talks nonsense.

Amused at the thought of her with Ragnar, I decide to entertain the notion, “What’s wrong with Ragnar?”

“Have you met Ragnar?” she fakes a shocked face, “That guy is going to die from seriousness; he doesn’t know how to smile. In fact, if he had to smile, I might just die.”

She points to a photograph of Ragnar with his fiancée. The pretty, average-height golden brown-haired girl has a big smile on her face. It's a direct contrast to Ragnar who is frowning. The media is in a craze about the upcoming wedding, discussing the intricate details, the enormity of the occasion and the gorgeousness of the bride-to-be, Alma Blacksmith. Honestly, it isn’t the romance the media are making it out to be. If she could get Ragnar to give her a full ten minutes of his time solely to her, it would be a miracle. I have nothing against her, and I wish her the happiness that I know she won’t find with my brother. Anyone as beautiful as her could easily find anyone else to love that would love her back. I’ve found myself wondering how she can’t see Ragnar’s disinterest. Or maybe she doesn’t care. Maybe it’s all about who he is and what she can gain. Moving on to the next page, I found it is adorned with photographs of Emmaline and I in our graduation outfits. There is a type up of the varsity we attended and what we were involved in during our studies and of course what courses we graduated in. The next page is a large photo of the King – my father – and again me, at the most recent ball, my hands wrapped around my father’s right arm as we descend the throne's stairs, smiling pleasantly at the guests. A smaller picture accompanied the large one, showing my most recent adventures with the Duke of Cliffadere’s oldest son.

Emmaline cringes as she reads with me, “Well… on the bright side, at least you look fantastic. Oh, and look! They even praise your fashion sense, granted that’s the only sense they think you have.”

We glance at each other which follows with both of us hysterically laughing, only interrupted by someone knocking to enter.

“Come in!” I call as Emmaline and I sober.

Maddie, my personal servant hurries in, her around frame dressed in a black and white duties outfit that fell to her knees. The middle-aged servant was a favourite of my mother's, when she was still alive, which landed her the role of my caretaker. Maddie puts her hands on her round hips, scolding at the two of us.

“You are a very lucky little lady to have me around.” Maddie says her tone chastising.

I raise my eyebrows at her curiously, “What have you done, Maddie?”

Maddie huffs in annoyance, “Hidden your fathers copy of the Foreign Muse as well as a few other pages. You are very lucky that he is too busy to notice, with the Werewolf prince about to arrive.”

“Well that’s certainly a relief to hear.” I smile sweetly at my old caregiver.

Maddie looks less than impressed, “Don’t think I came here only to relieve your mind Princess Novena, you most certainly deserved to worry for a bit.” She says, wiggling her finger at me, “Your father requests both of your presence at dinner tomorrow night. He wants to make sure that you don’t committee yourselves to any other business. Prince Pallas was given permission to cross the border five days ago and word has been sent ahead that he will be arriving sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

“So exciting!” Emmaline exclaims.

“That’s a bit soon isn’t it?” I enquire.

“He requested to move up the visit about a week ago. Don’t you think it’s weird that he is just a cousin to the throne, but he also has the title Prince?” Emmaline muses; lost in her own thoughts on the subject.

I frown at Emmaline, “Yeah that’s what’s odd.” Not that she knows more about his visiting plans than me. I certainly don’t recall hearing anything about him visiting sooner.

Coming back to attention, I bat my lashes at my adoring servant, “Please would you have someone send for our stylist Maddie and inform her that she is needed tomorrow. Also, please find out what time my father has requested dinner to start. Wouldn’t want to be late and have him in a temper” At her nod, I say I thank her sweetly.

“And send someone to bring more coffee Maddie!” Emmaline calls after her, almost leaping out the tub to be heard as my old caretaker closes the door.

She smiles brightly at the expectation of more coffee as we rinse in the double shower. My mood soured. I watch Emmaline out of the corner of my eye. She always knows everything before I do, I think miserably. The important stuff that I should know but don’t. This isn’t the first time I’ve wondered how she gets her information, however, she’s never wrong. Emmaline always knows what’s going on. Sometimes I wonder who the real princess is.