Crown of Smoke

Chapter 1

    Gwen grinned to herself, licking the leftover icing sugar from the tips of her fingers as bright, warm sunshine came through the windows and caressed her cheek. It had been a quiet day again, meaning she had been left mostly to her own devices whilst her mother went out to the market in the center of town.

    She adored days like these. While she swept up the shop or decorated the odd cake or two, she could let her head run wild with thoughts that would consume her for hours. Sometimes she would come up with elaborate stories or fantastical ideas with no scientific conclusions. Today, however, she was planning her escape.

    She and her friends had been planning it for years, what they would do when they would be done with school. She had dreamed of going to the capital with its bustling streets and tall buildings, it seemed like a world away from their provincial sanctuary on the coast. Her friend Hazel had been before when she was little, the day of the new king’s coronation 14 years ago, and she had would delight Gwen as a child with stories of crowds all clambering up in the middle of the gold lined streets.

    She had saved up all of her money from her work at the bakery. Although it was only working for her mother, she would still pay her a small amount to help out on the weekends. It was all stored in a jar in her room, ready to make their way across the country and finally begin to live a little.

    The bell rang above the door as it opened, revealing the figure of Gwen’s father. He looked tired, still dressed in his farm clothes, his boots coated in mud and grass. Despite the exhaustion behind his eyes, he smiled warmly as Gwen bound up to him and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

    “You’re in an awfully good mood.” He remarked as she peeled herself off of him, placing a warm vanilla custard tart on a plate as he took a seat on one of the empty tables. “Is your mother not back yet?”

    Gwen shook her head. She reached up to the top shelf of the cupboard behind the counter, grabbing a piece from her secret supply of toffees. Her father raised his eyebrows and smirked a little, but did not comment, tucking into his own treat instead.

    It had become a routine. On the first Saturday of the month, when her mother disappeared to market, the pair of them would sneak themselves sugary treats as the sun slowly began to make its descent in the sky. They had the timing down perfectly, always managing to finish their sweets and have cleaned up immaculately just as her mother would walk through the door with the keys to lock up the shop for the day.

    With the financial crisis that accompanied the war, Gwen had been seeing less and less of her parents as they began to work longer hours to try and stay afloat. She treasured the easy moments like these where things seemed to be normal again, before the trade issues.

    “I assume that Blaine went home already?” She asked her father. She took a seat at the table next to him, pulling the other empty chair to rest her feet on as she pulled her knees up to her chest.

    “He got rather covered in muck so he decided to go straight home and bathe.” Her father replied, his face amused at the memory. “He’s learning quickly though; the Astere boy has written to say that he is impressed with him, well enough. He’ll probably be taking over my job soon enough.” He finished the tart and smiled. “I suppose I’m getting too old now anyway.”

    Gwen feigned a shocked expression.

    “You’re not old!” She laughed, but it pained her a little to notice the hints of sliver that clashed with his auburn hair and the wrinkles along his freckled forehead and around his pale eyes.

    She took his plate wordlessly, expecting her mother to come through the door, but the bell did not make a sound. She turned to see her father mirroring her concerned expression.

    “Perhaps the market was busy,” he said, but his worried expression did not change.

    They waited, sitting in the bakery until the light of the day had almost completely faded away. Days were becoming shorter as Autumn started to fall over the town, but this still seemed later than usual. The clock ticked in the corner as they waited in silence. Gwen watched as her father became increasingly anxious, his leg bouncing up and down and his eyes darting at even the slightest movement of a branch in the breeze. She could feel the fear rolling off of him in waves, making her feel as though she was suffocating.

    She sighed, unable to get comfortable anymore, instead of busying herself with as many ridiculously small chores as she could find. When there was truly nothing more to do, she decided to grab another toffee. She tossed one to her father, his hand quickly reaching out. He caught it, tight in his fist. His fast reflexes did not falter, even when he was scared.

    The sky was dark by the time they gave up and decided to retreat home to see if Gwen’s mother had returned home. The walk home was quiet, the stars above watching them, their own cheerful brightness mocking the pair as they trudged down through the village square and finally ended up in the quiet street which they called home.

    The lights were on, a result of Blaine being back early. It was a pretty little cottage that Gwen had loved growing up in, always warm and homely thanks to the many years of love her parents had put into it. Outside there were rose bushes and apple trees that lined the cobbled path leading up the sky-blue painted doorway. It was quaint and perfect and now that she had grown up, Gwen dreaded the idea of having to leave the place that bought her the most comfort.

            Her heart sunk as the door opened to reveal more silence. Gwen’s heart sunk. Her father pushed past her into the house. Blaine appeared, coming down the stairs with a towel over his neck and his pyjamas already on. He looked like his father, his damp hair was auburn and they had the same pattern of across their noses. Gwen wished she looked more like them, they had a sort of mystical look that always reminded her of the fairy stories her mother would tell them as a child.

            “Why is Pa in such a bizarre mood?” Blaine asked, he was blissfully clueless with a grin on his face.

            “Mama never made it to the shop,” Gwen whispered. Blaine hurried down the stairs, his face now closer to hers and puzzled.

            “Yes I know,” he said. Gwen mirrored his puzzled expression. “She’s been here all evening. She came home from the market early with a man I’ve never seen before. They’ve been in the sitting room for hours but I can’t catch a word they’re saying because they keep whispering everything.” Blaine chuckled nervously. Gwen followed his gaze to the sitting room where a stranger sat in her father’s armchair.

His head turned to her and a smirk spread across his face.

            Gwen took a moment, slowly walking into the sitting room as Blaine followed behind her. The strange boy’s eyes followed her as she entered. Her father was still standing, staring at her mother who was sitting on the sofa, exchanging with her a wordless conversation with furrowed brows and grave expressions.

            “Hello.” The boy said, standing up. He was almost as tall as her father, with wide shoulders and a similarly muscular build, but otherwise, he couldn’t have looked more different. His hair was dark, falling in waves onto his forehead and his eyes were a deep green color. Gwen looked up to him as he reached out his hand to shake hers. She took it in hers. She couldn’t help but notice the lack of callouses he had compared to her. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the fact he had obviously had a rich upbringing and was above the manual labor that her own family was accustomed to.

            “Hello.” She forced a polite smile. She hated that he made her so self-conscious, but there was something in those green eyes of his that told her that he was judging every action she made. He looked so polished, so clean. She was still dressed in her work clothes with flour drenching the front of her skirts. Her fine chestnut-colored hair had fallen mostly out of her bun and she dreaded to think of the dark circles that hung underneath her eyes. “I’m-”

            “Gwen,” he said, “I know.”

            Gwen turned to her parents in further confusion, but they avoided her eyes. She sighed, moving past the boy, not bothering to ask his name, and took a seat next to her mother. She waited for the scene to change, but the tension in the air seemed to hold them all in place.

            It was her father who finally broke the silence.

            “You look awfully like your father,” he said to the boy who smiled, the first genuine thing he had done.

            “You’re not the first person to tell me that,” the boy replied. “He sends his regards, by the way.”

            Her father nodded. “I remember you as a child, it seems strange to see you grown up.”

            The boy shrugged. Blaine took a step forward. He wasn’t as well built as the stranger but he was taller which made Blaine think that he would be more intimidating.

            “Who exactly are you?” he asked.

            The boy turned to Gwen and stared right into her eyes. He was looking at her as though she were a puzzle he was trying to solve.

            “My name is Hayden Cliffe,” he declared. The way he said it made it seem as though everyone was already supposed to know this, as though he was someone who constantly demanded the attention of a room. It was a form of arrogance Gwen was all too familiar with and she despised it. “Your parents knew my father, Ansel Cliffe, medic to the royal family.”

            Gwen laughed darkly. “Don’t be ridiculous, our parents have lived here in Eldun their whole lives, they wouldn’t know any ‘royal medic’. The palace is the other side of the kingdom!” She and Blaine looked at one another, completely aghast, but her parents remained still and silent. Blaine gestured for Gwen to say more but she had really run out of things to say.

            “That’s not strictly true.” Her mother spoke up. “My parents have always lived in Eldun, but I moved away when I was eighteen to get a job, at the palace.”

            “Rose,” Her father began but her mother held up her hand, stopping him before he could continue. She took a deep breath and continued.

            “I was lucky, I came at a time when the princess, Juliette, needed a new handmaiden and I somehow managed, despite my lack of qualifications, to get the job. We became close friends, being the same age. She was kind to me, never looking down on me for my humble roots. I was her confidant and she became mine. She was an only child and her parents needed her to get married so there would be a male heir to the throne, so when she was seventeen she became engaged to Prince Emilian.” She paused, looking over to her husband with tear-glazed eyes.  He took the cue and continued the story.

            “I was Prince Emilian’s guard, and he bought me over with him from our island, Sturry. It was at the palace that I met Rose. We both followed their royal highnesses and we spent a lot of time together. Eventually, Princess Juliette and Prince Emilian became the king and queen and had a baby. Princess Guinevere.”

            The realization started to dwell on Gwen. The room began to feel too hot, too full, too small. Tears pricked the back of her eyes and she felt one roll down her cheek in defeat. Blaine’s hand rested on her shoulder in comfort but she shoved it off.

            “Guinevere…Gwen…Very inventive.” Hayden quipped.

            Gwen wanted to come up with something clever to say back, something that would make him sorry that he ever came but her mind was so flooded with thoughts, running a hundred miles a minute, trying to process what had been said, what was going on, that all she could muster up was a dirty look that told him to back off. Admittedly, it did shut him up. She looked over and saw that her mother had a glare on him that matched her own.

            “So I assume it was your father who told you about us?” Her father asked Hayden.

            “Sort of…” Hayden said. “I may have taken it a little bit upon myself to browse through his old journals and records and pieced a few things together. There were only 2 other people, as well as the princess, whose bodies weren’t found after the fire, presumed to have been turned to ash with the rest of the palace. There were other casualties, the king and queen’s bones were found amongst the rubble of the nursery as were a young couple in the library, a duke and some maid girl, I believe. Someone had seen you, Elliot, running in and they presumed Rose dead with the king and queen. I managed to find you fairly easily- shortening your name doesn’t really count as changing it. Eli and Rose from Rosaline and Elliot? Gwen from Guinevere? You didn’t exactly make it difficult.” He laughed to himself, but he was the only one who found it funny. Blaine looked like he wanted to jump on him and Gwen was ready to back him up at a moment’s notice.

            She wanted to get out, but there was nowhere to go, not really. Instead, she stood up and climbed slowly and wordlessly up the stairs to her room, curling up on the bed and letting the lull of her own self-pity tempt her into sleep.