Kingdom of Silver and Starlight

Alone In a Crowd

There were once wolves in the palace. 

Before the war there had been wolves everywhere, or so some of the books in the palace library hinted. Wolves, banshees, snake spirits and vampires, all manner of beings had made their homes amongst the many kingdoms. Though the war had ended many years ago and the victors had done their best to move on, the memories lingered in the oddest places. The library shelves were well-stocked, but each one seemed incomplete. Time and prejudice had swept through the halls, leaving behind a vast dearth of information, missing ledgers and scrolls replaced with new and inoffensive books. Even the few tomes left behind often had pages ripped out, splashed over with ink, or sat on pedestals behind spell-crafted glass that shimmered with protective glyphs. It was as though, once the conflict had died down, the Clouded Domain had simply swept out the dust, dragged a carpet over the missing tiles, and painted over the scuffs. History was truly written by the victors, and they had decided to pretend that it hadn’t happened at all.

Seraphina wondered how the other kingdoms had chosen to cope. She hoped their books were untouched and weren’t filled with propaganda. She doubted banshees really had that many teeth, and there was no way in all the realms that snake demons could swallow a person whole. How would they fit someone’s head past their jaws? Could they unhinge the joints like regular snakes?

More than that though, she wanted to know what had started the war in the first place. So many of the records spoke of treachery, that the monsters had been ungrateful beasts that had bitten the hand that fed them, and for their crimes they had been exiled to the Voided Lands to live out the rest of their miserable existences amidst the dust, broken bramble and chaff.

They didn’t look miserable though, Seraphina thought to herself as she gawped from behind Sangye’s arm. While they weren’t dressed as lavishly as the other guests, something about their attire spoke of fine material and excellent craftsmanship. Faint signs of wealth glittered on their wrists and around their necks. A ring of garnet here, earrings of lapis lazuli there, silver buttons branded with the same insignia that gleamed on the king’s chest.

Then there was the king himself. Seraphina hadn’t known what to expect but it certainly had not been this. The powers he’d displayed were unlike anything she had ever read or heard of, and even with the shadows withdrawn he seemed to take up the entire room. 

“Seraphina?” She blinked and looked up at Sangye who watched her back with an expression of concern. “Are you alright? You’re holding onto me really tight.”

The princess opened her mouth to respond only to realize that she hadn’t been breathing properly. She sucked in a deep breath, perhaps too deep, and spun around to cough. “No, I’m fine,” she replied between inhales. “I was just surprised by their arrival.”

Sangye did not look convinced. “Were you scared?” The bodyguard asked, casting a glare over their shoulder at the shadowy delegation.

The bright red scarf around Lord Valentyne’s neck fluttered in a non-existent breeze, the fashionably tattered ends splitting into wispy red flames in his agitation. “Ugh, what was the Ethereal King thinking, sending them an invitation? Letting these creatures spreading their dark filth inside the hallowed walls of the Skyborne Palace? It’s unconscionable. Honestly it’s as if they’re no better than animals.”

Seraphina pressed her lips together but didn’t refute the man. It was a common sentiment within the realm, and she hated butting heads with people. Otraena smoothed her hair and fondly called her empathetic. Sangye scoffed, tossed her a sword, and told her that she was a doormat. It was a testament to how deep the disdain for the Voided Lands ran that her dearest friend and bodyguard hadn’t picked up on her unease.

With some effort, she tore her gaze away from the king and focused on the others in attendance. First there was the lady in the mask, her cold eyes doing nothing to hide her wary contempt of those around her. Then there was a man clad in the trappings of a doctor, looking wholly uncomfortable and with a smattering of glittering scales covering his cheekbones. Another man stood beside him, absolutely almost unremarkable compared to the others save for a pair of ruby red eyes peering out from a milk-white face, and wide with unabashed curiosity.

"Oh I hope this does not become a commonplace affair," someone murmured behind her, others murmuring and humming in nervous agreement. 

Another voice piped up, more belligerently than the first. "Hmph, we know what they're like. Chances are they'll do something unseemly and be thrown out before the night is up."

A chorus of titters rose up. "I hope so. Maybe one of us should seek audience with the Ethereal King just in case..."

Speaking of the Ethereal King however, Seraphina spotted the crest of her uncle’s gem-studded crown above the heads of the guests and immediately stopped listening to the gossip behind her. The crowd shifted and she saw him offer a kindly smile to a lady cloaked in a floor-length veil that seemed to be woven from fresh sea-foam. Around her waist was a belt of mother-of-pearls, and attached to it was an ornate seashell crest which marked her as a representative of the Seafolk's mer court. 

The woman inclined her head in return and glided away, a haze of mist trailing behind her. The princess straightened up and, after glancing up to make sure that neither Lord Valentyne nor Sangye were looking at her, she took off across the hall in his direction, picking up her skirts and half floating as she made a beeline for him.

Uncle Savant caught her a moment before she crashed into his side. “Dearest, please be careful!” He said, laughing even as he scolded her.

“I’m sorry uncle,” Seraphina chirped, feeling her spirits rise at the sight of her favourite family member. Uncle Savant was her father’s older brother, and while he was unmarried, he had done his best to raise her as though she were his own child. There were many rumours regarding why he remained unmarried, ranging from the death of an old paramour to impotency to a dark curse, to even more salacious claims. Seraphina didn’t care. Tongues would always wag and people would always gossip. It was none of their business.

That night Uncle Savant was dressed in his usual courtly attire, and the feathers stitched into his cloak tickled her cheeks when they hugged. She knew beneath them lay his wings, the snow-white quills a stark contrast to her father’s obsidian black plumage. All too soon he put her down, cupping her cheek and looking her over with a delighted grin. “Dear girl you look absolutely wonderful this evening! Truly, you are the spitting image of your mother.”

Her heart spasmed in her chest but she managed a grateful smile. “Thank you uncle. Father bought me this dress for the party.” Then, hardly daring to hope, Seraphina asked, “Is he…?”

The faint grimace was almost worse than his answer. “I’m so sorry dearest,” he said, and the princess just closed her eyes. She already knew what was coming next. “I’m his representative as he will not be in attendance tonight. I tried to tell him to take a break but he claimed he had too much work in preparation for the trade meetings this week.”

“Oh…” she bit the inside of her cheek. Why was she so disappointed? This almost always happened. Uncle Savant spun his absence as her father being an intense workaholic, but Seraphina knew the truth. It was the same reason he hardly looked at his own daughter. Huffing, Seraphina shook her head like she was dusting out cobwebs and took a deep breath – carefully this time. “I’m fine uncle. I’m sorry, I’ll let you get back to your duties.”

“If you see me being accosted by Lady Helen, feel free to distract me,” he smoothed a loose curl behind her ear and pinched her nose between his index and middle finger. Seraphina giggled and fell back, feeling as though she were six years old again. She touched the side of her face and was reminded of a childhood incident where he’d caught her hiding in the parlour cupboard, two hastily purloined orange tarts clutched in each hand and whipped cream smeared across her upper lip. The maids had been hunting for her. She’d heard their frantic footsteps and even more frantic voices on the stairs and landing as they'd called out her name because her music tutor was waiting for her. 

Skies Seraphina had hated that man. With his stern eyebrows, gaunt face, and propensity for insults when she made even minor mistakes. He had made learning the lyre torturous. The resoundingly harsh crack of his cane on the wooden tabletops had almost driven her away from music altogether, but Seraphina had persevered until she felt confident enough to teach herself the rest. Still, at the time she'd spent far more time dragging her feet and hiding from the man than attending his tutoring sessions. 

That day however, she'd been determined to skip the entire lesson. To that end the little princess had snuck into the kitchens to pilfer a few rations that would get her through the next three hours, and found a place where no one would think to look for her. Even as a child Seraphina had been fond of hiding away, of discovering new places to conceal herself, where she could curl up undisturbed and have the world pass her by. Places she could go unseen, unperceived, and therefore unjudged.

The first hour had gone by, then the next. A quarter of the way through the third, Seraphina had heard footsteps within the parlour, and then hands testing the locks of the other cupboards. Nervously she had huddled back, hoping fervently that the interloper would leave before he reached her. It wasn't to be so, and her eyes had squinted at the sudden influx of sunlight followed by the surprised face of her uncle. 

Seraphina had frozen, juvenile muscles tensing to make a run for it. Yet rather than reveal her hiding spot, one of Uncle Savant's eye had closed in a conspiratorial wink, and then he gently shut the little door without a word. She pressed her ear to the wooden door and heard him conversing with what sounded like her music tutor, though she had never heard him sound so tremulous before. When she’d crawled out of her dusty lair half an hour later, she’d found the maids inconsolable and an orange tart on her bedside table. 

In truth, Seraphina had hoped that her disappearance would draw her father from his office, even if it was just to scold her for such a rare show of disobedience. Perhaps it was a silly thought, but she had spent all her life playing the dutiful daughter in the hopes of garnering his attention and praise, no matter how minor. Maybe acting out would do the trick, even if all she received were words of reproach. In the end however, nothing had changed. Nothing would change. Seraphina had eaten her tart alone, legs pulled up to her chest beneath her duvet, and fallen asleep.

A warm hand landed on her shoulder, jolting her from the bittersweet thoughts. Uncle Savant looked over her shoulder and sighed with exaggerated resignation. “I suppose I should go welcome our newest guests and pat down any ruffled feathers.”

“Good luck,” Seraphina giggled, and then let the milling of the party-goers separate them again. She looked around, hoping to catch sight of Sangye through the shifting throng but the flowers adorning the top of the dryad’s head were nowhere in sight. Frowning, she got onto her tiptoes but caught herself at the last minute. It was easy to hover when she was alone, or with Otraena and Sangye, but the press of strangers sent her heart skittering with nerves. She could almost hear the whispers.

Isn’t that the princess? The one that can’t fly properly? The one with no wings? I heard that she can't even conjure a single wind wisp!

No, if she wanted to find Sangye then she was doing this on foot. Gathering up the front of her skirt, Seraphina began making her way to edge of the ballroom. It was slow going. There were so many people, the air was thick with the scent of perfume and wine and it made her dizzy. Someone had dropped a glass when the Voided Lands delegation had arrived and Seraphina nearly lost her footing trying to sidestep the spreading puddle of champagne.

“Oh!” Her elbow collided against someone. “I’m so sorry I-”

The words disappeared from her lips when she looked up and found herself staring up into a pair of glowing golden eyes. Narrow, inhuman pupils fixed on her and blew wide, darkening the surrounding sclera like a wildcat that had just spotted its prey and was gearing up to pounce upon some helpless creature. Seraphina went still as stone, those eyes pinning her in place like butterfly on a board, and hoped that Sangye would find her soon.