The seventh Princess

The book

“Perhaps you should rest, Isla,” Papa suggested, his gaze filled with concern.

“Yes, I… I think I should,” I managed, pushing back from the table. The concerned looks followed me as I made my escape, the clinking of their silverware a relentless reminder of the iron’s power over me.

Later that afternoon, the image of the ancient book from my dreams became insistent. The gnarled wood, the tarnished silver clasps, the glowing inscription – it felt like more than just a figment of my imagination. A desperate hope bloomed within me that it held some answer, some explanation for the terrifying changes I was undergoing.

I sought out Liam. He was in the palace courtyard, his tall, stern figure overseeing the training of the Royal Guard. His usual air of cool professionalism seemed even more pronounced in the bright sunlight. I approached him hesitantly, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

“Liam,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper.

He turned, his gaze sharp and direct. “Your Highness.” He inclined his head respectfully, his expression unreadable.

“I… I need to ask you something,” I said, my palms feeling clammy.

He waited patiently, his silence prompting me to continue.

“Have you… have you ever seen a very old book in the palace library? A large one, bound in dark wood, with silver clasps?” I described the book from my dreams as best as I could, the inscription about the blood moon and the shadowy figure feeling foolish even as I spoke the words.

Liam’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of something crossing his usually impassive face. “There are many old books in the royal library, Your not Highness. Can you recall any specific markings or titles?”

“There was an inscription… on the cover,” I hesitated, feeling a blush rise on my cheeks. “Something about… the blood moon.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed, his gaze suddenly intense. A muscle twitches in his jaw. The air around him seemed to grow colder. “The Blood Moon?” His voice was low, almost a growl.

“Yes,” I whispered, unnerved by his reaction. “And… and a shadowy figure.”

He took a step closer, his usual formality replaced by an almost fierce urgency. “Princess Isla,” he said, his voice grave, his eyes boring into mine. “You must stay away from such things. Such thoughts… they are dangerous. There are whispers in the oldest parts of this palace, tales best left undisturbed. Legends of darkness, of things that should remain forgotten.”

His warning sent a fresh wave of fear through me. “But… What are they, Liam? What do they mean?”

He shook his head, his gaze hardening. “Evil, Your Highness. Pure evil. Stay clear of it. Do not seek it out. Even the contemplation of such things can invite darkness into your heart. Trust me, Princess. Some doors are best left unopened. Some knowledge is a poison.” His voice held a weight of conviction that chilled me to the bone. He looked at me, his stern face etched with a genuine fear that mirrored my own growing terror. “Steer clear of shadows, Princess. Especially those whispered about in ancient books.”

Liam’s stark warning echoed in my mind, a chilling counterpoint to the insistent whispers of the Blood Moon and the shadowy figure from my dreams. He had looked genuinely scared, and his fear only amplified my own growing terror. But the more he cautioned me to stay away, the more a desperate need to understand took root. What were these dark legends? What did they have to do with the strange changes happening to me?

My royal duties offered a thin veil of normalcy, a temporary distraction from the unsettling mystery that clung to me. As the heiress to the throne, I had responsibilities, even amidst my turmoil. A meeting with the kingdom’s elders had been scheduled, a gathering that under normal circumstances I would have approached with eager anticipation. I cared deeply for Equedore, its people, and its future. The thought of one-day ruling, of ensuring their prosperity and peace, was a weight I carried with both pride and solemnity.

But this meeting felt different. A shadow of the market incident hung over everything. Word of the Crown Princess being caught stealing – even something as trivial as spoons – had spread like wildfire across the kingdom. Whispers followed me in the palace corridors, curious and sometimes accusatory glances from servants and courtiers alike. The elders, wise and influential figures who held the stability of Equedore in their hands, were now gathering to discuss my fitness to succeed to the throne.

As I entered the grand council chamber, the air was thick with unspoken tension. The elders, their faces etched with years of experience and unwavering loyalty to the crown, sat around the long, polished table. Their eyes, usually filled with respect, held cautious scrutiny as I took my place beside Papa.

Elder Elara, her voice usually warm and comforting, was the first to speak. “Your Majesty,” she began, her gaze flickering towards me before returning to Papa, “the recent… incident involving Princess Isla has caused some concern amongst the council.”

A murmur rippled through the room. I kept my head held high, trying to project an air of calm I didn’t feel. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the heavy silence.

“We have always held the Princess in high regard,” Elder Gerone added, his voice grave. “Her intelligence and her dedication to Equedore have been evident. However, this… deviation from expected behavior raises questions about her judgment.”

Papa’s hand rested reassuringly on mine. His gaze swept across the faces of the elders, his expression firm and unwavering. “My lords and ladies,” he said, his voice resonating with the authority of a just and trusted ruler, “I understand your concerns. The incident at the market was… unusual. But I know my daughter. I trust her character, her integrity, and her deep love for this kingdom. A moment of… inexplicable behavior does not define the woman she is, nor the queen she will become.”

His words, spoken with such conviction, seemed to quell some of the immediate unease in the room. But I could still sense the lingering doubt in their eyes, the unspoken questions about my stability, my suitability to rule. The weight of their scrutiny pressed down on me, a heavy burden added to the growing fear within.

Later that day, Papa called me to his study. His usual warm smile was tinged with a sadness I hadn’t seen before.

“Isla,” he began, his voice gentle, “I know this has been difficult for you. The whispers, the looks… it’s unfair.”

“Papa,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t understand what’s happening to me.” The urge to confess everything, the dreams, the ringing, the terrifying shadow, was almost unbearable. But Liam’s warning held me back, a knot of fear tightening in my throat.

Papa sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I want to help you, Isla. I want to make things right. The kingdom… they need to see you as their strong, capable future queen. We need to remind them of the Isla they know and trust.”

He paused, his gaze meeting mine. “I have been considering… a betrothal.”

My breath caught in my throat. “A betrothal?”

“Yes,” Papa said, his voice firm but kind. “To Prince Caius of Eldoria. He is a fine young man, respected throughout the neighboring kingdoms. A union between our houses would not only strengthen our alliances but also… it would present you in a positive light, Isla. It would reassure our people.”

My mind reeled. A betrothal? To a prince, I had never met? The thought felt suffocating, a gilded cage closing around me. My heart ached for the freedom to understand what was happening to me, to seek the answers hidden in the shadows of ancient books, not to be paraded as a symbol of stability.

“Papa,” I began, my voice trembling slightly, “I… I don’t know if now is the right time…”

“Isla,” he interrupted gently, taking my hand, “this is for the good of Equedore. For your good. It will show everyone that you are strong, that you are ready to embrace your future.” His eyes held a plea, a deep desire to protect me and the kingdom.