Chapter 1
I crept through my dark bedroom, pushed the tapestry on the wall aside, and crawled through the opening behind it. Seda, my kitten, ran between my legs and tripped me as he clawed the hem of my night gown. I stood still until he tired of the game. Slivers of moonlight filtered through cracks in the stone. Seda’s white fur caught the light as he ran.
As my eyes adjusted I could follow his shape against the dark stones. When we reached the end of the tunnel, even more moonlight flooded through the rotting trap door above us. I climbed the rock wall, and Seda climbed my nightgown until he sat on my shoulder.
Fresh sea air flooded the dank tunnel as I opened the door and climbed onto the tower. Stars twinkled overhead, fading gradually into the predawn light.
Seda walked on the edge of the tower railing, watching birds fly over the ocean. I stood motionless, soaking in the view and solitude. Waves crashed on the shore far below me and drowned out the voices of sailors and merchants getting an early start on the docks.
I joined Seda at the edge and leaned over it. A narrow staircase without a railing wound around the tower. I climbed it once in the middle of the night, clinging to the wall and hoping no one noticed my white nightgown against the dark stone. I expected the stairs to lead somewhere interesting. The castle treasury, perhaps. Or even beyond the castle to a different part of the city. Instead, they led me to the castle’s main garden. A disappointing reward for such a dangerous climb, since I visited the garden often. I did not use the stairs again.
Although the staircase stopped at the garden, the tower stretched downwards and blended into the town below. Castlemont, the capital of Salaria, was divided into tiers. Ramps made of large stones and packed dirt connected the flat platforms of earth circling the mountain. Without the tiers, the mountain ground would be too steep for a city. Top levels held large houses inhabited by nobility. The middle tiers, home to artists and servants, held humbler dwellings. Individual houses in Lower Castlemont were indistinguishable from one another. If there were walkways between the shacks, they must be very narrow. The lower part of the city looked like one enormous roof, patched and faded and badly needing repair.
At the bottom, the Ghone River spilled into the sea, and a port just outside Castlemont’s protective wall bustled with activity. Sailors loaded crates of salt and checked ropes on massive ships with fluttering white sails. Smaller vessels sailed up the Ghone into the heart of Salaria. They disappeared into the forest, although the sails of larger ships floated above the trees like ghosts. Beyond the forest, open fields and tiny villages stretched to the Weeping Mountains, the source of the Ghone. I could just make out the silhouette of the mountain range in the light of a sun not yet risen.
I rummaged through the crate I kept on the tower. Under the books on magic technique I had sneaked out of the library, I found my gold opera glasses. I turned to the ocean, examining the ships too far away to see without aid. The wind pulled strands of hair from my floor length black braid and whipped my face with them. The usual ships sailed along the coast. Navy vessels, both men and ships clean and polished and identical. I skipped past them. The merchant ships intrigued me. Their stained sails and tattered crews hinted at stories I could only imagine, and they had almost as many canons on their decks as the naval vessels to protect against pirates.
I watched the flags flutter in the breeze. None of the ships in sight flew the flag of New Salaria. Surely the delegation would not be delayed another day? The ocean glowed pink as the sun progressed towards the horizon.
Too near the horizon. I needed to hurry back.
I climbed through the trap door and pulled Seda with me. He yowled as I shut it and carried him back down the tunnel. Golden sunlight slipped through cracks now, but it was still much darker than being outside. Before my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I reached my room and pushed aside the tapestry blocking the tunnel entrance. I took a moment to adjust it so no one would discover my secret. I wouldn’t have found the passage without Seda’s help, and I had lived in this room my entire life. The secret tunnel continued past my room to Lady Alma’s studio and the council chambers, although I never went that way. Too many courtiers wandering around, looking for the latest gossip.
I jumped into bed and tried to smooth my braid. Hopeless. I snapped my fingers, trying to summon magic to help. Nothing happened. My hair remained a tangled mess. If I was lucky, everyone would assume I had been having bad dreams. Rumors would spread throughout the kingdom that nightmares troubled the sleep of Salaria’s greatest treasure, but everyone would forget about it in a few days. They would have new gossip after my birthday celebration. I closed my eyes, relaxed my body, and waited.
A breeze rustled through my hair when the door opened, but I did not stir. I kept my eyes closed and my breathing slow and even. Scrapes, scuffles and whispers echoed through my room. They always tried to be quiet, but they seldom were. At least thick carpets muffled the footsteps. I listened for sounds out of the ordinary. My birthday was tomorrow. According to tradition, my fairy godmother should come for a visit. Had the Fairy Divinia come early? Did a fairy’s footsteps sound any different?
A string quartet began to play my aria from our latest opera production. I waited. As the violins hit their highest note, I turned my head and opened my eyes.
No fairy. Just the usual crowd. I smiled at them to hide my disappointment.
Divinia would come tomorrow. The Colonial Delegation would have a safe journey.
Everything would be fine.
Lady Alma, my personal designer, opened the curtains with a snap of her fingers. Light streamed down on me. My tangled hair reflected dark colors on the walls. Lady Alma’s hair also did a fair bit of reflecting; she wore a pink wig covered in diamonds that towered high above her head. The pink contrasted nicely with her warm Castanian complexion. I once overheard a Duchess complain that Lady Alma had the skin of a sailor as if she spent all her time working in the sun. Lady Alma refused to let her naturally tan skin stop her from making bold fashion choices.
“Night prism eyes reflect colors unknown,” Mother said, quoting the spell Divinia spoke over me on the day of my birth.
Because of that spell, I am my nation’s greatest treasure. Those words changed my life. They also rhymed. Mother embraced poetry with a passion after the blessing, and I have been surrounded by poets ever since.
I smiled at Mother and nodded to the group of courtiers and artists standing in the back of the room. Sir Quill, Minister of Poetry and unmistakable in his hat that doubled as an inkwell, stepped forward and spoke.
Roses are red, violets are blue
Salara’s eyes reflect indescribable hues.
Violets are blue, and roses are red.
Everyone here agrees with what I said.
Violets and roses. Red, purple, and blue.
Colors mean more when reflected by you.