I’m not ten steps into the room before they pounce like starved animals after their next kill. But I have no desire to be one of their meals. Fae, who’ve only ever looked my way when they mistook me for Nova, are congratulating me on becoming their new princess. Fawning over me, acting as if this is some achievement that I’ve been working towards my whole life.
The truth: this role is being forced on me purely because of the day I was born—andmy sister’s death.
Which I still have no details on.
I guess it was no different for Nova. Only chosen by the day she was born. Except for the fact that she wanted this life, and as the first born wasactuallychosen by the Goddess. I wasn’t.
With each undeserved accolade thrown my way, the corset of my dress grows tighter. My lungs fight against the constricting boning in the bodice. The dress is too tight, almost making me wish for a fleeting moment that I had made that fitting yesterday.
Would that have changed anything? Would Nova still be alive?
I tug at the waist of the absurd monstrosity of a dress that the Royal Guardians dropped off at my mother’s house. If they are going to push me into a dress that contradicts every aspect of my personality and style, they could at least have brought it to my place.
The overly large brown faux flowers that dot the fabric look half dead. When magic flowed freely in our lands these fabric florals would have bloomed through the night, changing the color and aesthetic of the outfit completely. But with the current state, elemental magic can’t, and shouldn’t, be used on such mundane things. Leaving me in this half dead garment.
The only positive attribute is the mushroom-style skirt with its absurd number of tulle layers in different shades of brown. While I would never be caught in this silhouette under normal circumstances, I’m thankful for the mountains of billowing fabric. They puff out so far that at least it keeps everyone a few twigs away. Nevertheless, I’m concerned that my lack of oxygen combined with the weight of the skirt could cause me to collapse at any moment.
I’ve barely registered anything that the female in front of me has said before she grips her forearms and looks to the floor, offering the Earth Fae respect. “Stone and soil steady your steps, your Highness.” She hurries off and the next couple approaches, eager to have their turn at me.
I’m trying to focus on what they’re saying, but their words start to sound as if they’re speaking to me from underground. I blink repeatedly, trying to make out what is being said but it’s to no avail. My mother’s glare narrows in on me as I sway in my heels like an unsecured vine in the wind.How mortified would she be if I stepped right out of them to ground myself on the black walnut flooring?
My magic flares in my veins as it dawns on me—she knew this was coming and said nothing. Alira Navarro, always theface of grace and composure, just like Nova. She could have warned me, in my flat or when I came to pick up this ridiculous monstrosity of a dress. Instead, I’m standing here, in a full panic, trying to keep a smile pinned on my face and my magic buried away.
My eyes dart frantically, looking for something—anything—to give me an excuse to escape. I scan the room. As usual the gala is a spectacle for the senses, like every royal event I’ve been forced to attend over the years.
The massive white wisteria tree coming out of the center of the bar has a kaleidoscope of bottles surrounding the base. Elemental mixologists are busy creating a plethora of energy-infused experiences for the guests. I watch one pick up a bottle burning orange with sparkling embers and pour it into an orb filled with smoke before handing it over to a Fire Fae. Another pours a thick stream of sap from a caramel-colored bottle into a leaf-lined glass, topping it with a nasturtium. It isn’t my favorite earth experience, but I’d take anything that could dull the anxiety unfurling through me.
It's clear that many of the Elite have already consumed numerous experiences. Everyone seems to be blissfully spinning and swirling across the dance floor or laughing loudly as they mingle in front of the massive fireplace. A huge fae fire is glowing in the hearth. They must have added the human-made liquid fire to have a blaze so large.
Everyone’s nonchalant attitude only sends me spiraling deeper. Obviously, they know about Nova’s death. They just announced to the entire room—including me—that I am now the princess. Yet no one is grieving or discussing whatever happened to her. As if she never existed at all.
Maybe they’re all just too afraid to admit she’s gone. Death is so rare. No one wants to acknowledge that we aren’t immortal,especially when we’re losing more of our elemental powers daily from Gaia’s storms.
And now I’m supposed to become Queen of these Fae.
No one here has ever noticed me before tonight. And despite the room being completely full, no one seems to notice now that my whole world has been unearthed. I feel utterly alone in this crowded ballroom. Yet again I’m abandoned by Nova, who’s left me to fend for myself.
A tingling starts in my fingers. At first I think it is my magic, doing its best to break through my attempt at suppression. But when it begins to move up my hands and all the voices fade into one buzzing drone, I realize I’m wrong. I sway. I’m way too lightheaded for these uncomfortable high heels.
Just as I’m sure that I’m about to pass out, I hear the calming voice in my head.
Breathe, Nissa. You can do this.
My body, over which I’ve been progressively losing all control, responds immediately to the command. I feel the cool rush of air bloom in my lungs. The small group around me turns in my direction at the audible intake. My mother’s eyes are wide in anticipation of what she’s sure is the inappropriateness about to come out of my mouth.
Smile. Say excuse me. Walk away. Breathe.
Without question,I follow the directions again echoing through my mind and turn to escape through the doors I just entered.
As I take the first step, I’m met by two distinct sets of eyes staring me down. As if my senses weren’t off-kilter enough with the announcement, now I’m face to face withthem.
The announcement of their names breaks through the fog. “Prince Caspien Vaylor and Cillian Vaylor.”
The Princes of Castara. And the only other set of Fae twins.
Caspien is soon to be crowned as king. With me being announced as the Daughter of Gaia, I’m supposed to be his future queen. That’s bad enough.
But my eyes are fixed on the other prince—Cillian.
