Chapter 4 Miria: Party crashing crows

Chapter 4 Miria: Party crashing Crows

I yank the emerald dress of the hanger and force my arms and head through it, not caring if I tear the fabric. You can say I am a little upset about Ylvana's attitude this mourning. Her stubbornness always finds a way under my skin, like an itchy mosquito bite. I don't care if she is a wolf, and she has some deep calling to the wilderness or whatever. That is no excuse to disobey my father's orders!

Then, I realize which dress I have put on. Last summer, Ylvana and I made this dress together. I run my hand over the bright embroidered flowers--Ylvana's artistic work. She had done the design, and I stitched the dress together. It had been the last day we had spend quality time together.

I try to calm down as I brush my hair. There are some good parts to her, otherwise we would never have gotten along at all. We were pretty different, but we were all we had for each other. At first, that had been enough to start our friendship.

But every day Ylvana stayed at the castle, her eyes seemed to grow a little duller. She spent more and more time alone in her room. The only thing that cheered her up were walks to the village. I continued to try and help her, but it was no use. We slowly started to grow apart.

Of course I regretted what I said to her. I could never fully understand what it was like in her position, all I've ever known was life at the castle. I should apologize to her whenever I see her next.

I hear a knock at my door. My mother walks in, wearing a beautiful flowing green dress a few shades darker than mine. Her crown looks like golden twigs woven together. A lot of people say we look like sisters, sharing the same wavy raven hair and round face.

She smiles at me and says; "Are you ready?"

"Almost, I just need to do my hair," I answer, braiding a strand of hair.

"Just think," she says, admiring my reflection in the mirror, "two more years you will be queen of Sølvfalske."

Yay.

I hide my fears from my mother as she places my crown on my head. The crown is beautiful, but it is always a bit heavy and awkward to wear. Tilt your head too far one way and--Oops! You just broke a centuries old family heirloom. No pressure there.

"You are ready," she smiles proudly. I wish I can believe her.

I follow her out of my room to the landing in the entrance hall; the same place where Ylvana decided to practice jumping off of railings. My father is there, waiting for us.

He looks so regal in his formal attire; heavy black boots, a dark blue suit with a rosemaling pattern along the trim, and his signature red cloak that matches his shaggy beard and graying hair. His gold crown sits proudly on top of his head.

Though he looks powerful, his wariness is evident. The wrinkles and creases in his face are deep. His eyes have a hard look to them, and his lips are set in a straight line, as if he is preoccupied with his thoughts.

He tries to hide his weariness by smiling at us, but it looks forced. Mother takes his arm, and they walk down the stairwell. Below us, the music quiets, and all the guest bow their heads in respect.

People stare at me as I walk down the stairs. I have to focus really hard on not tripping. I have never seen so many people attend a ball before. I guess now that the village celebration was canceled, everyone was coming here.

We had four seasonal celebrations on the island; the Spring Equinox, Summer Solstice, Fall Equinox, and Winter Solstice. The Spring Equinox was the favorite among the people because it marked the end of a long 7 month Sølvefalske winter and the beginning of warm weather.

Unlike the many religious holidays where only certain people got together, everyone participated in the Spring Equinox. In the village, people gathered around bonfires and told stories and ate s'mores. Other's sold food or goods, and enjoyed socializing with their neighbors. Bands came out and played music from many different cultures.

But with all the trouble going on in the village, the Spring Equinox was canceled. Instead, the castle held a ball. Compared to Ylvana's description, the village celebration sounded much better.

Mother suddenly takes my arm.

"There is someone I want you to meet," she says, leaning close to my ear so I can hear her over the voices and soft violin music.

We follow my father over to a group of middle aged men standing leisurely in the corner. My heart sinks; they are all from the Village council. I hated when Father forced me to talk to them.

All of them are dressed in expensive garments, adored with badges from their days of being in the King's army. One man is adored with more badges than the others, and stands a bit straighter. I have never met him before, but I know who he is; Governor Erling, my father's head of War Council. He is tall and lanky, with sparse white hair on his head, and a short, trimmed beard.

"Ah! Albin, so great to see you!" he says to my father, shaking his hand. They appear friendly, but everyone knows Erling and my father have been arguing over actions to take in the war. As they shake hands, the tension between them is obvious.

Then he turns to my mother and shakes her hand gently, as if my mother is fragile. When he looks down at me with beady eyes, I quickly look away. I felt so uneasy around him.

"Governor Erling, I think it is about time you met my daughter, Miria," my father says with a proud smile.

I feel mother gaze at me from the corner of her eyes; a warning for me to act right. I force myself to look the man straight in the eyes as I hold out my right hand. Suddenly, the men around me start laughing. My cheeks burn as I slowly withdraw my hand.

The Governor holds up his right arm--which lacks a hand. I realize mother and father had used their left hands to shake with him.

"Forgive me, Princess, but I won't be able to shake with my right hand," Erling chuckles. "I lost it fifty years ago in battle due to Coal Dust poisoning," he inspects the stump on his arm proudly.  "I had to cut it off myself."

I nod, awkwardly. "Must have been painful," I say.

"Aye, but not as much as that poison," he says.

I nod, holding out my left hand, which he takes. His handshake is much firmer and stronger than necessary. I back away from him, positioning myself slightly behind my mother.

"Beautiful young girl you have there," Erling says to my father, as if I wasn't even there, "yet, I hear no word of marriage."

Father laughs. "She is still quite young, and as you know, we've been busy. But I assure you, it will be within the upcoming years, hopefully before her coronation." 

"Let's hope we can put an end to this war, before the time comes!" Erling smiles. I can hear some sort of challenge in his voice.

Father shuffles a little, uneasily. "That is what I am trying to do. But once again, I am not willing to set an attack against--"

"Gentleman," mother interrupts sternly. "May we avoid disusing politics at a time like this? This is a formal gathering, after all."

The men nod, and settle into uneasy silence.

"Tell me, Erling, how is the village?" mother asks.

The governor smiles brightly. "Brilliant, as always! They are a bit nervous--no one could blame them. But they took my advice, and are staying safe. However," his eyes glittered, " there are some who question the king's choice of actions."

I decide to leave before hearing anymore of this conversation.

I stick around the food table, more specifically: by the cakes. Another thing Ylvana and I have in common is are love/obsession with chocolate.

As I nibble on delicious cake, I look out the tall, arching windows of the ballroom. The sun has set, so I can barely see the outlines of the spruce tree's. If it's dark, Ylvana should be back by now. I push aside my nervousness; she's probably just hiding in her room.   

"Miria," I see Gwen, Ylvana's mother, walking towards me with a worried expression on her face. Gwen is always cheerful around me. To see her worried is unnerving.

"Please tell me you know where Ylvana is. I haven't seen her since this morning," she says.

I almost drop my cake.

"Do you mean she's not in her room?" I ask.

Gwen shakes her head, "No. I've looked everywhere."

I sigh. I know the truth will worry her, but I am not about to lie to such a kind person like Gwen.

"She went to see Alex and Chris in the village. She must still be there," I say.

Gwen rubs the side of her face with her hand, "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately yes," I mumble.

Gwen walks past me to the windows, and leans on the iron railing across the glass.

"She knows enough to come home before sunset," she says, looking out at the dark.

"You don't think something happened to her, do you?"

Gwen sighs, "I don't know what to think." She walks away and disappears in the crowd.

My stomach clenches, maybe from all the cake I've had so far. The elegant violin music and joyful laughter that fills the white hall makes it difficult to think. What could have happened to that blonde idiot?

"Excuse me, Princess."

Yay, more people.

I put on a fake smile and turn around. A boy and girl about my age approach me. The girl has wild, curly red hair, and the boy is tall with bright green eyes . . . and handsome. He has a sharp jaw and chiseled face. His skin has a farmer's tan, and his hair is short and neat, a sort of dusty brown color.

They come up to me and bow their heads.

"We're friends of Ylvana's," the girl says in a rough Scottish accent. The candle light highlights her long, curly hair, so it seems to burn.

I smile back at her, hiding my increasing need to strangle Ylvana for not being here.

"You must be Alex and Chris," I say politely, shaking Alex's hand.

"Ana's mentioned us, then," Chris says.

He has a nice voice; deep and soothing. I meet his eyes as she shakes my hand, and almost get lost in their emerald color. I am suddenly aware there might be chocolate on my lips. Arg! What am I thinking?

"She won't shut up about you two," I force a smile. A chilling realization hits me. "Where is Ylvana?"

Alex goes pale. "She left us about an hour ago. We thought she'd be here by now."

My breath hitches. "She's not here!"

Alex and Chris' eyes go wide. Before they can respond, a raspy call rings out from above us.

The music falters, and all the guests go quiet. Every one looks up the archway, where a raven perches. We know right away it is no ordinary raven, but a Fenrir Warrior. You can tell by the unnatural size, the intelligent look in it's eyes, and the fact that it can talk. The raven begins chanting;

Your kingdom will fall, your hero is lost

For years of our suffering, blood pay's the cost

The Crows will prevail, and the wolves will fall

Your precious princess will be lost to all

After three hundred years, the runes will be ours

We'll control the sun, moon--

Suddenly, an arrow penetrates the raven's chest, and he flops to the ground. I spot my father's head guard, Lord Sigurd, by the opposite entrance, lowering his bow.

"I ask everyone," Sigurd says in a steady voice, " to calmly leave the castle and go home. Keep together and stay in your cabins once you get there."

The guest don't hesitate to begin filling out of the room. They move slowly, waiting to get out patiently, but there is an air of panic.

"Come with me," I tell Alex and Chris. "I think you two were the last people to see Ylvana."

I lead Alex and Chris out of the ballroom, down the hall to the one place I know I can think clearly in; the library.

Reviews

[DRAGO]

This is... Awesome. I am now your fan. It is very clear, the diolauge is realistic, It seems gramaticaly corect, not to fast, not to slow, perfect! have you published this, because I would buy it