Crown's Hunt

Chapter 1

Chaeya

She loved it. Loved the whistling of the wind in her ears accompanied by steady hoof beats pounding on the hard forest floor, forming a constant rhythm through her blood, her entire being. The wind whipped her long braid back as she drew another arrow from the quiver strapped to her back. She drew her bowstring and fired. A flash of red and silver before the arrow found its mark on a low hanging branch, its point buried into the wood right on the point that she had marked earlier. A sharpshooter's eye.

She had a second to admire her shot before her stallion went galloping past. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she fired a second shot, this time severing a thin branch and sending a barely ripe acorn falling to the forest floor. She sent another three arrows flying in quick succession, each of them finding their predestined targets with unnerving precision.

Chaeya let out a whoop of ecstasy. The forest canopy overhead was lush green stained with a tinge of gold to welcome the beginning of fall. She embraced the cool late afternoon wind as it kissed her face, a breath of fresh air after being cooped up in the castle all morning. This was how she wanted it to be, wished she could spend all the days of her life in this paradise. It felt like freedom.

She continued on the familiar pathway through the forest, ducking and twisting to avoid any stray offshoots. She nudged her steed gently to slow down as the trees began to thin. The stone castle loomed up before her, ever as forbidding in its ancient grandeur.

She dismounted as a young stable boy walked timidly towards her. She paid him no attention as he led her stallion away, the servants usually preferred not to be noticed. She stalked up the flagged stone path and up the steps to the great double oak doors which were flanked by two castle guards in their dark grey uniforms embroidered with the royal sigil. Her own grey cloak swished around her ankles and her remaining arrows clacked together as she walked. The guards bowed their heads to her in greeting as they pulled the doors open with a loud grating sound.

It was silent enough that the sound of her leather hunting boots on the polished stone floor reverberated through the entire main hall. The hall was lit dimly with candles in polished silver brackets which lined the hall on both sides. A wrought iron chandelier hung from the ceiling, crystal glittering faintly in the dim light. Further down on either side, two majestic staircases swept up to a small balcony on the second floor. She took the left staircase up and went down a hallway on the left which led to her chambers.

Chaeya paused in her tracks with lethal grace as she beheld the young man coming down the hallway towards her.

"Javrek..." The name was a deep growl in her throat. And she was in such a great mood...

"Chaeya," Her older brother gave her a wry smile that didn't quite reach his cold grey eyes. "I was beginning to worry when you would come back."

"Since when have my comings and goings been any of your concern?"

His thin lips quirked to the side in a smirk. "Well, the forests are filled with all manner of beings, furthermore you always insist to venture alone."

Chaeya gave him the coldest glare possible. "As far as I know, it would be your greatest pleasure that my neck get caught on a branch one of these days."

"Always the pleasant one aren't you?" The smirk spreading wider across his face. Chaeya fought the urge to slap him. "Well, I shan't delay you any longer, better go get ready for the party. Father won't be pleased if you're late."

Who are you calling father? She wanted to snarl at him but merely gave him as sideways glare and stalked away. The arrogant, self- serving bastard. She glanced back at him and saw him leaning casually against the wall, running a hand through his wavy black hair while smirking at her back.

She was still seething from her encounter with him while she undressed and slipped into the marble bathtub that sunk into the floor in her bathing chamber. She had hated him since they first met and they had been openly opposing each other ever since. He had become her older brother even though they were not related by blood. After Chaeya's mother, the late queen died, her father had married Javrek's mother, Queen Elantra, the widowed wife of the once prominent Lord Gerrath, her father's most trusted adviser. She didn't blame her father but Javrek was unbearable. And she couldn't stand the way he strutted around as if he ruled the world.

The bathing chamber was lit dimly with aromatic candles. She grabbed her favourite lavender scented bath oil from the marble shelf beside the tub and proceeded to massage it into her hair. Clouds of scented vapor hung in the air formed by the steaming bath water. She soaked in the bath while fingering her mother's turquoise medallion which hung around her neck with a leather cord. It matched her eyes, her father used to say. She never took it off, it was her mother's only keepsake, as if her mother's memory would be lost if she let it go. Chaeya absentmindedly traced the ornate carvings on the smooth stone, it was the pattern of a stag's antlers, her mother's family sigil.

After rubbing herself down with bath salts, she got out of the bath and toweled herself dry. Her handmaid, a young girl not much older than Chaeya handed her her dress for the welcoming ball.

Chaeya stood still as Elvie tightened the corsets of her dress. During normal parties, Chaeya usually got to wear whatever she wanted, so as long as it was deemed 'ladylike' enough by the etiquette mistress. But this was to be the reception of the crown prince and the royal ambassadors of the lands of the east. They were important enough that the entire court was dressing in its finest. The castle ballroom had been decorated and food and gifts had been prepared weeks before, although she hadn't gotten around to checking them out. Might as well make it a surprise.

When Elvie was done with her hair, Chaeya stood in front of the mirror to admire herself. She usually didn't care much for clothes but... this dress looked stunning. Breathtaking was the right word. It was modest, yet the workmanship was extraordinary. The dress, as expected, was in her house colours, sliver and black. The neckline of the dress was decorated with intricately embroidered patterns in silver thread. The loose sleeves bunched up elegantly at her elbows, ending with a soft white frill. The dress was black silk with an outer layer of silver lace with tiny diamonds sewn in just the right places that they sparkled when they caught the light. The skirt flared out gracefully, the folds rippling like a breeze blowing across the surface of a calm lake.

Elvie had also braided part of her auburn hair onto the top of her head but let some of it cascade down her back in loose curls. Chaeya twirled around slowly, feeling the water- like softness of the fabric and admiring how the diamonds sparkled like stars in the night sky.

"You look beautiful milady." Elvie said ever so quietly, her eyes fixed pointedly on Chaeya, an expression of admiration on her face, as if Chaeya was a precious treasure to behold. Chaeya took Elvie's hands gently between hers and squeezed them lightly.

"Thank you Elvie." It came out as a whisper. A whispered gratitude from the bottom of her heart. Elvie had served her for several years now, and had always fulfilled her duties wholeheartedly. Chaeya never really got around to thanking her, and a smile lit up on the young maid's face.

"It's my pleasure milady." Elvie curtsied and left the room slowly, the small smile on that doll- like face of hers.

Bunching up her dress carefully to avoid wrinkling the smooth fabric, Chaeya slid on her hunting boots. She would rather not wear the pinchy high heels that had been prepared for her. They would make dancing a pain, besides, the dress was long enough to cover her boots just fine. She grabbed her favorite twin daggers from her dresser and slid one into each boot, then she grabbed her sword and buckled the scabbard around her waist. The sword's silver hilt matched her dress perfectly. It was her most prized possession, a family heirloom passed down through the generations. It was said to belong to Queen Mahlaqa the First who used it to purge the land of its corrupt rulers. The hilt was carved with the family sigil as well, a wolf howling at the moon. Words were inscribed around the sigil in an ancient lauguage.

After admiring herself one last time, she stepped out of her room and started in the direction of the ballroom. She took a few twisting and turning passages and down a long flight of stairs before she was right in front of the oak door. Slightly self- conscious now, she patted down her dress before motioning for the guards to open the door.