4
AVINA
Thirteen Winters Ago
Year 87, 9th Era
Sapphire Palace, Ridge Province
“Hello, Emota. How is your son? Has he recovered from the sickness?”
Avina smiles brightly at the quirky woman with wild purple hair and several piercings. Fresh linens are stacked precariously in the woman’s arms as she bobs out of Avina’s bedroom. Instead of engaging in the young girl’s questions as usual, Emota gives a curt nod before shoving past, heading to tend to another room in the palace.
Avina freezes in the center of the corridor, watching the woman’s steps fade away. How could the same friend who taught her how to braid and find humor in the littlest matter now ignore her?
Perhaps her son is still ill? I will bake another loaf of bread to gift with a jar of Sapphire Palace honey.
Avina spins around to the servant’s staircase. Her lipstwist into a crooked smile at the sudden presence of a boy her age who balances a sparkling silver pitcher up the servant’s stairs.
“Nik, are you up for a chess rematch later? I daresay my skills are even better than last time.” Her words trail off when he does not even glance her way. Has she offended him by suggesting she can beat him again? Perhaps losing next time would earn her favor with him.
She reclines against one of the many thick, floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows of the palace. Dazzling colors dance across the thick violet carpet spanning the length of the royal quarters. The pane at her back depicts Princess Sabelina, Avina’s ancestor, the last Keeper of the Ridge Sacred Stone. The Princess is painted in vivid hues in a Ridge gown while both hands clasp the dazzling sapphire.
According to legend, the Prince of the Salt Province tricked her into giving him the stone after the necromancer destroyed the Timber stone. Avina twists her head to look into the brush strokes of Sabelina’s blue eyes. Many people still believe all the Sacred Stones exist, and the Salt Province is collecting them all to rule Treland.
Somewhere in Avina’s soul, she knows her people’s sapphire is still alive and safe. Her invisibility powers prove that point even if her father insists she keep them a secret.
“Boris! Hiya, Boris!” She turns to a plump older man. He puffs up and hurries away from her as though she is a venomous snake. Refusing to be ignored again, Avina gathers the skirt of her pink dress and hurries after him.
“Boris!” She screams, slowing him to a halt just as he is about to reach a hidden door leading to the Academia Wing.
“Your Highness, is there something I can attend to?” He speaks rigidly without confronting the little princess.
Avina’s smile falters, and her shoulders slump. “No one will speak to me. I would feel awful if my actions hurt someone else’s feelings, and I cannot make it right.”
“The servants have jobs in the castle, Your Highness. None of which includes entertaining a bored Princess. Now, if you will excuse me.” He continues walking through the panel in the wall, leaving Avina empty as if a black void had opened in her heart, determined to obliterate her happiness.
She bites down on her bottom lip, feeling like a ship lost at sea.
Without a direction, she wanders through the castle, racking her brain for what she could have done or said to her friends. Then she remembers the exchange she had several winters ago with Queen Frida…
King Thord had ventured to the Ridge to visit her father, yet not before delivering a pristine chess set crafted of whalebone for Avina.
“I expect you to beat me next time.” With gentle laugh lines, the warrior king sets the rectangular box in young Avina’s arms. At this time, she had only seen nine winters. Her eyes bulge from their sockets as her fingers trace the squares.
“Thank you.” She breathes, unable to recall receiving another more thoughtful gift.
“You’re almost clever enough to take on my sons.” He ruffles her wild curls, evoking a little flush of color in her cheeks—a rare feeling that only came when the Salt King and Queen visited.
They made the little princess feel cherished.
“There’s King Ceowald.” Queen Frida kisses her husband deeply before he strides forward to greet Avina’s father, leaving the young princess alone with the tall and imposing Salt Queen.
“How have you been, Avie?” Queen Frida smiles down at Avina, referring to her by the unique nickname she had bestowed upon her since she was a baby.
Avina tucks the folded chess board underneath her arm with a frown. She had always been able to speak to Frida and Thord of her woes, as their guidance always proved sound. But this felt different. Admitting her latest mistake churns her stomach.
“It’s cousin Bertie. I hurt his feelings, and now he refuses to speak to me.” Her shoulders slump. “He’s my best friend, and I worry this is the end of our friendship.” Their fight felt monumental to the little princess, who looked up to her cousin and closest friend. Her bottom lip quivers, even thinking about what she had said to him.
