👭 Rivals and Reveries
The maids fussed around me like a flock of starlings, each with a task and a purpose. One tugged at the stays of my corset while another pinned my hair, her fingers deft and quick. My gown—a shade of pale blue chosen for its supposed resemblance to my eyes—hung on a stand nearby, waiting to be slipped over my shoulders. The room smelled of lavender and bergamot, a combination that always made me feel more like a painting than a person. My pointy ears twitched, feeling a few more pins brush my skin as the maids stuck them in my hair.
“Hold still, Your Highness,” one of the maids murmured, just barely hearable. “Just a few more pins.”
I nodded, though my mind was elsewhere. My gaze drifted to the open window, where the evening air carried the faint songs of birds settling in for the night. I envied them—their freedom, their simplicity. No corsets. No royal balls. No Reena.
The thought of her made my chest tighten. I knew she would be there tonight, just as she always was at these gatherings. Reena, princess of the kingdom that bordered ours, had haunted my mind since we were young. She was sharp-tongued and maddeningly self-assured, always ready with a sly remark or a smirk that made my blood boil. Her purple hair seemed to stick in my mind, as well as her scowl. She was most certainly going to cause some trouble tonight.
“Princess Athella,” one of the maids interrupted my thoughts, “shall we help you into the gown?”
I tore my gaze from the window and nodded again. “Yes, of course.”
The fabric was cool against my skin as they slid the dress over my shoulders and began tightening the endless row of buttons. I stared straight ahead, fixing my eyes on the ornate mirror before me. The reflection that stared back was someone else entirely—a perfect princess, poised and polished, every strand of hair in its place.
“You look beautiful, Your Highness,” one of the maids said softly.
“Thank you,” I replied, though the words felt hollow. Beauty was a weapon in the ballroom, one I was expected to wield skillfully, but it was never something I truly cared about. Though, it's my duty and I must respect it.
What I cared about was the game we would all be playing tonight. The subtle glances, the whispered words, the veiled threats disguised as pleasantries. And somewhere in the midst of it all, Reena would be watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
A knock at the door startled me, and my maid hurried to answer it. “His Majesty wishes to remind you, Princess, that the guests are arriving,” the footman said.
“Tell him I’ll be down shortly,” I replied, keeping my voice steady.
The maid curtsied as the footman left, and I took one last look at myself in the mirror. The proper princess. The perfect daughter. It was a role I had been playing for as long as I could remember.
But as I stepped out of my chambers and into the grand halls of the castle, I felt the faintest flicker of something else. Anticipation, perhaps. Or maybe it was the thought of Reena, waiting downstairs with her cutting words and her infuriating smirk. She always caused a stir in my stomach, one I didn't know how to put my finger on.
Whatever it was, I knew one thing for certain: tonight would be a battle. And for once, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to win.
My heels carefully stepped down the stairs to the ballroom, a tightness panging in my chest. Anxieties rushed into my head as they clicked against the marble floors. I felt a gaze linger over me, somewhere far off where I couldn't seem to see. Brushing it off, I walked to the door and greeted the nobles coming in.
Ringing settled in my ears, naturally toning out my thoughts as I did my pleasantries. Once the last person was in, I quietly began walking to the stairwell again; grabbing a glass of wine on my way up. My ears twitched nervously before I let out a loud cough, grabbing the guests attention. I felt a hand gently touch the top of my back, my mind calmed knowing it was my father. I looked back to the audience, nobles all from different areas of our kingdom and royals from neighboring kingdoms looked up at us.
I finally raised my glass and began to speak, “Welcome to the Starfall Castle. My father and I would like to say we're glad you all came. It's one of our grandest events, so I hope you all enjoy the ball.”
My father interrupts my speech, his tone loud but kind. “I would also like to say my wife won't be attending the ball, apologies to anyone who was hoping to talk to her. She's currently feeling unwell and won't be able to leave her room for the time being.”
His words echoed in my mind as we stepped down to enjoy the ball, my grip tightening on my glass. I quickly walk to the side of the room, downing the glass while everyone's busy talking. My mother had an illness. One that wasn't affecting her physically, but affecting her mind. An affliction if you will. She hasn't been able to leave her bed since my baby brother was born, bursting into tears when she's anywhere near him. An unseemly sight.
I sigh heavily, forcing my mind in a different place as I take an entire bottle of wine off of the table. I take a huge gulp and start heading to my room early. Suddenly, as if waiting for my arrival, I hear a voice call out ahead of me.
“Not very ladylike to down half a bottle like that.” It says, calmly yet almost snarky. I look up to see Reena in the hallway to my chambers.
“Oh Reena, what are you doing out of the ballroom? You're a guest, you should be with everyone else.” She shakes off my inquiry, walking a few steps closer to me and readjusting my dress. “I decided I wanted to greet you, why are you wearing your dress like a barbarian? I know you're flat chested but atleast lower it a little.” Her remark is passive aggressive, which is obvious to me after all of these years. I briefly glance down at her chest, she's always been more gifted in that department.
I pull my dress back up to where it was placed, my face feeling warm as I do so. I begin to sigh heavily, “Look, Reena. You should head back to the party. I'm heading to my chambers to write, just try not to make a noble mad when you get back.”
She presses her lips together, clearly about to protest, but I turn and walk off before she can say a word. By the time I reach my room and push the door open, I hear a frustrated huff behind me, followed by the sharp clatter of heels rapidly approaching me. I feel panic shoot through my body before I feel myself get shoved against the wall of my bedroom.
Looking up, I see Reena, obviously peeved off with her arms crossed. I rub my temples before finally opening my mouth, “Angry today I see. Sorry for running off,” I paused for a moment. “Why are you so adamant on having a conversation?” I take a sip of the bottle I snagged from the ballroom table earlier.
She looks at me weird, with a slight smirk. An expression I've never seen from her. “Calling me angry when you've obviously had enough to drink.” A small laugh escaped her lips causing me to look off to the side, feeling my face get warm again.
“So did you corner me for nothing or are you gonna explain what you're wanting to talk about?” I ask quietly, a petty tone leaving my mouth. A snarky and nervous demeanor wasn't normal to me, I rather hated the feeling actually. Reena always seemed to bring it out though, against my will.
“I was actually gonna ask about your well being, I heard about some things.” Reena’s voice shifted to a comforting tone. I blankly looked at her, dumbfounded. Maybe it was the alcohol making her kind to me? Nevertheless, I didn't feel comfortable talking about it with her. I paused for a moment once more before hearing her talk again, “We can talk about something else if you'd like.” Reena took a step back, sitting on the edge of my bed and patting the spot next to her.
I stare at my bed, hesitant to sit down but I eventually do. I quietly say, “..What can we even talk about?” Reena shuffles in her spot, as if she's thinking. “What hobbies do you have? Besides your normal duties.” She asks, seeming to fully drop her normal rude demeanor.
I hum, my mind calming as the alcohol sets in. “Poetry. I write in my diary a lot, it's kind of like my coping mechanism to it all. Duties are stressful.” Reena nods with a huff, seeming to understand my worries. “Reasonable, my duties prevent me from doing a lot , I have to write all of the time so things like writing poetry are stressful to me. I'm sure yours is nice though.” She lightly kicked her feet as she said that.
I slightly tilt my head at her, “Sometimes I forget you're royalty oddly enough. You're so rude that it's hard to imagine you're not a snobby noble.” I poke her shoulder gently, which causes another reaction I haven't seen from her before. Nervousness? She coughs and brushes it off. “Anywho, you seem to be more open when you're drunk.” She pokes me back and I laugh.
“Yeah, it makes me worry less. Have to be prim and proper, it keeps my parents happy and makes sure I don't break any expectations they set.” My hand glides up to my ears, tucking my hair gently behind my ear. I finally looked over at her, making eye contact. “What kind of expectations?” She asks, seeming genuinely interested in what was causing me distress.
“Mostly marital. Also just having to stay all nice and proper with everyone is so stressful. I'm sure you have already experienced the same thing.” I smile softly at her, scanning her reaction. “Marital?” She questions, raising an eyebrow.
“How I'm expected to not do anything romantic with anyone, ever, until I'm married. It's quite annoying, really. Did you know I haven't even had my first kiss?” I exclaim, pointing at her teasingly. “Insane to think everybodies probably already had their first kiss but me.” Realizing how rough that sounded I awkwardly laughed, trying to brush past it.
I notice Reena awkwardly shift again, contemplating continuing this conversation. After a few very long feeling moments, she finally speaks up, “I can't really relate with you in that way, but if it helps, the most I've done is kiss somebody.” I peered at her dumbfounded, “Well yeah, I had assumed. It would be lewdacris to assume you had done more than that.” She laughed, a cackle almost. “You realize, most royals can't say the same. They don't follow their parents every move like you do.” I felt her scoot a little closer to me while speaking, causing me to nervously cross my legs and let out a small laugh.
Her words made my chest tighten, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was the wine, or the warmth of her body so close to mine, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at her again. Instead, I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, tracing the swirling patterns of the rug beneath our feet.
“Well,” I finally said, breaking the silence, “just because I follow my parents’ every move doesn’t mean I enjoy it. It’s simply… necessary.”
Reena let out a gentle snort, leaning back on her hands. “Necessary for whom? Them? Or you?”
“For everyone,” I replied, sharper than I intended. “It’s my duty as a princess. You wouldn’t understand.”
Her laugh was quiet this time, more a huff of air than anything else. “You really think I wouldn’t understand? You forget, Athella, I’m a princess too. I’ve been shoved into corsets and paraded around just like you. The only difference is that I choose not to let it control me.”
Her words stung, though I wasn’t sure if it was because of their truth or their delivery. I finally turned to face her, my lips parting to offer some retort, but the look on her face stopped me short. Her usual smirk was gone, replaced by something softer, almost… vulnerable. It was a side of her I’d never seen before, and it threw me completely off balance.
“I know it’s hard,” she said quietly, her gaze meeting mine. “But you don’t have to let them dictate everything. You’re more than just what they expect you to be, Athella.”
The room felt suddenly too small, the air too heavy. I wanted to laugh, to brush off her words like they meant nothing, but I couldn’t. Instead, I swallowed hard, my hands twisting nervously in my lap.
“You speak as though it’s so simple,” I murmured. “But it’s not. You may have the luxury of defying expectations, Reena, but I don’t. My father—” My voice caught, and I shook my head. “He wouldn’t allow it.”
Reena shifted closer, her knee brushing against mine. The contact sent a jolt through me, and I stiffened, unsure whether to pull away or stay rooted in place.
“Then maybe,” she said, her voice low and steady, “it’s time you stopped letting him dictate your every move.”
Her words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, all I could do was stare at her. There was a fire in her eyes, a challenge that made my heart race in a way I didn’t quite understand. I wanted to argue, to push her away and retreat into the safety of my carefully constructed walls, but something about her presence made that impossible.
“I don’t know how,” I admitted finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
Reena smiled then—not her usual smirk, but a small, genuine curve of her lips that made my breath catch. “Then maybe I can help you.”
Her words were simple, but the weight of them settled heavily on my chest. For the first time, I realized that the woman sitting before me wasn’t just my rival, my tormentor. She was something else entirely—something I wasn’t ready to name.
Before I could respond, a knock at the door shattered the fragile moment between us. I jumped to my feet, my face burning as I turned toward the sound. One of my maids stepped in, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of Reena lounging on my bed.
“Your Highness,” she said quickly, “your father is asking for you.”
I nodded, smoothing my dress with trembling hands. “Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”
The maid curtsied and disappeared, leaving the two of us alone once more. I avoided Reena’s gaze as I moved toward the door, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Are you running off again?” she teased, though her tone lacked its usual bite.
“I have responsibilities,” I said stiffly, not daring to look back at her. “You should return to the ballroom.”
Reena didn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, I thought she might argue. But then she stood, brushing imaginary dust from her gown.
“Very well, Your Highness,” she said, her voice light and mocking once more. “But don’t think this conversation is over.”
I didn’t reply as she slipped past me and out the door, her footsteps echoing in the hall. Only once I was sure she was gone did I allow myself to breathe, pressing a hand to my chest in a futile attempt to steady my racing heart.
Whatever game Reena was playing, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a part of it. And yet, some part of me—the part that had always been drawn to her, no matter how much I tried to deny it—knew that I already was.
I descended the stairs, feeling the buzz of the wine I had downed earlier settle in my chest. Reena’s words still lingered in my mind, but I shoved them aside as I entered my father’s study.
He stood by the window, gazing out at the gardens, the soft glow of the moonlight brushing his strong features. A tray with two glasses of wine rested on the table near him. When he turned to look at me, his expression softened.
“There you are,” he said, his voice warm but under-toned with authority. “I was beginning to think you’d vanished from the ball entirely.”
“I needed some air,” I replied carefully, folding my hands in front of me. “The evening has been... a bit overwhelming.”
He chuckled, gesturing for me to sit. “Understandable. Hosting a ball is no small feat, and tonight’s is especially important.” He poured a glass of wine and handed it to me. “Our allies from Reena’s kingdom are here, after all. Their presence means a great deal.”
I nodded, taking the glass but only holding it. “Yes, Father. Their support has always been vital to us.”
“And Reena,” he said, his tone growing thoughtful. “She’s proven to be an interesting young woman, hasn’t she?”
I stiffened slightly at the mention of her name. “Interesting is one way to describe her.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my hesitation. “I’ve noticed the way she seeks you out, Athella. She seems quite fond of you.”
“Fond?” I echoed, nearly choking on the word. The thought of Reena being “fond” of me felt laughable. She seemed more interested in driving me to madness than anything else.
“Yes, fond,” my father said with a knowing smile. “She’s clever, that one. A bit unruly, perhaps, but her heart is in the right place. Her father speaks highly of her, and I’ve always thought the two of you had the potential to form a strong bond.”
I blinked, unsure how to respond. “A bond?”
“Of friendship,” he clarified, though his tone suggested something more. “The two of you are heirs to neighboring kingdoms. The stronger your relationship, the stronger our alliance. It’s something worth cultivating, don’t you think?”
I looked down at my glass, the wine swirling in the dim light. “Reena and I… we’ve always had our differences.”
“All the more reason to find common ground,” he said firmly. “These are the skills of a ruler, Athella. To see past petty disagreements and foster unity. Reena may challenge you, but perhaps that’s exactly what you need.”
I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on me. “Yes, Father. I’ll try.”
He smiled, clearly satisfied. “Good. Now, return to the ball. I’m sure Reena is looking for you already.”
The thought sent a flutter of something unnameable through me—annoyance, perhaps, or anticipation. I curtsied and turned to leave, my father’s voice stopping me once more.
“Athella,” he said softly.
I paused, glancing back at him.
“You’ve always made me proud,” he said, his expression gentle. “I know you’ll do what’s best—for yourself and for this kingdom.”
I nodded, my throat tight with the weight of his expectations. “Thank you, Father.”
As I stepped out of the study and back into the grand halls, his words echoed in my mind. Cultivate a bond with Reena? Impossible.
As I re-entered the ballroom, my father at my side, the room buzzed with conversation and laughter. The weight of my earlier conversation still lingered, but I smoothed my expression, slipping back into the practiced poise expected of me.
My gaze swept over the crowd, and there she was—Reena. She leaned lazily against a column, a glass of wine dangling from her fingers as if she owned the place. Her smirk found me before her eyes did, sharp and confident, as if she'd been waiting for me. My mind trails back to what had happened earlier, before the interruption. What would have happened if we didn’t get interrupted?
"Enjoying your escape, Athella?" she called out, her voice cutting through the noise around us.
I stiffened but kept my steps measured as I approached. "Not all of us can afford to abandon our duties," I replied, my tone carefully neutral, though my heart gave a traitorous flutter at her audacity.
Reena chuckled, the sound low and infuriating. "Duties," she repeated, her lips curving into a smile that made my skin prickle. "Of course. What would the perfect princess be without them?"
I felt my cheeks warm, tinting a light pink, but I refused to let her get to me. "Some of us take our roles seriously," I said, my voice steadier now.
She pushed off the column, closing the distance between us with a languid grace that made me feel trapped, though I was standing in the middle of a crowded room. "And yet, even perfect princesses need to run away sometimes," she said, her voice softer now, almost conspiratorial. "All this pretending must get exhausting."
I blinked at her, thrown by the sudden shift in her tone. For a moment, she didn’t look like someone who hated me—the girl who lived to provoke me—but someone... different. Someone who might understand.
"I manage," I said quickly, my words coming out sharper than intended.
Her gaze lingered on me, as if searching for something beneath the polished exterior. "Of course you do," she murmured, and her smirk returned, but there was something gentler in her eyes now. "After all, perfection takes practice."
I quickly pour myself a glass of wine, hoping more will calm my nerves. The first sip burns, but it does little to steady the frantic rhythm of my heart. Before I can take another, a hand wraps around my wrist, firm but not painful. I barely have time to react before I’m tugged forward, my heels catching slightly on the polished floor.
"Reena," I hiss, trying to keep my voice low, as not to draw attention, though a few heads turn our way. "Why do you always drag me somewhere?" Annoyance seeps into my tone, though my words feel weaker than I’d like them to.
She doesn’t respond, her grip unwavering as she leads me through the crowd with the ease of someone who’s used to commanding attention. Her presence alone parts the sea of nobles, who murmur as we pass, some bold enough to exchange amused glances. My face burns, not just from the wine but from the sheer audacity of her behavior.
She stops abruptly in a room off to the side of the ballroom, where the air is cooler, and the hum of conversation is muffled. Finally releasing my wrist, she leans casually against the wall, her arms crossing over her chest as she looks at me with that maddening smirk.
"You're welcome," she says, her voice low but tinged with amusement.
"For what exactly?" I snap, adjusting the sleeve of my gown where her grip had wrinkled it. "Humiliating me in front of half the court? Or making me look like your accomplice in whatever stunt you’re planning?"
Her smirk only grows, and she shrugs. "For rescuing you. You looked like you were one sip away from drowning in that wineglass. Alcohol makes you quite rude and direct as well, you're acting like me."
I glare at her, but her words hit too close to home for me to retort. Instead, I fold my arms, mirroring her stance. "If this is about some petty attempt to unsettle me, it’s not working," I say, though my pulse betrays me, quick and unsteady.
She steps closer, invading my space as she always does, her violet eyes catching the light of the chandeliers above. "Who says I’m trying to unsettle you?" Her voice is softer now, almost a whisper, but it carries that same teasing edge. "Maybe I just wanted to talk."
"Talk?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow. "Since when do you talk without insults or jabs?"
Reena’s expression flickers—just for a moment, so brief I almost miss it—but it’s there. Something softer, something real. Then it’s gone, replaced by the familiar, infuriating confidence.
"Maybe I like keeping you on your toes," she says, taking another step closer. "It's entertaining, watching you try so hard to keep that perfect composure."
I open my mouth to argue, to say something—anything—but the words don’t come. Instead, I take a shaky breath, forcing myself to look away from her and out into the crowd.
"You’re insufferable," I mutter, though my voice lacks conviction.
"And yet," she replies, her tone light but with a glint of something I can’t quite place, "you’re still standing here."
The worst part is, she’s right. I should walk away, back to the safety of the crowd, back to the comfort of polite conversations and predictable smiles. But I don’t. I stay rooted to the spot, trapped between the maddening heat of her gaze. I gently tug at the collar of my shirt, begging myself to calm down.
Reena watches me, her eyes sharp and calculating. It’s as if she can see every crack in my armor, every inch of my carefully constructed composure that’s threatening to fall apart.
I take a step back, desperate for air, but she moves forward, her movements deliberate, unyielding. “Why are you acting so nervous?” she asks, her voice low and edged with curiosity.
“I’m not nervous,” I snap, the words leaving my mouth too quickly to sound convincing.
She raises an eyebrow, her smirk curling in that maddening way that sets my teeth on edge. “Liar.”
Her response is infuriating, but I can’t find the strength to argue. My pulse races as she steps closer, her presence overwhelming. The hum of the ballroom fades into the background, leaving only the sound of my breath—too fast, too shallow.
"You’re usually so proper, so controlled," she murmurs, her voice like silk. "But now… look at you."
I bristle, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not working," I say, my voice wavering despite my best efforts.
Reena takes another step, close enough now that I can feel the heat radiating from her. "Oh, I think it is," she says, her smirk widening.
"Reena," I warn, but it comes out more like a plea than a command.
Her gaze flicks to my lips, lingering there for a moment too long. My breath hitches, and I hate the way she notices, the way her smirk softens into something more dangerous.
“You’re always so easy to read,” she murmurs, her hand reaching out to brush against my arm, trailing down to my wrist. Her touch is light, teasing, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
I take a shaky step back, only to feel my shoulders hit the wall behind me. Reena follows, closing the distance until there’s nowhere left for me to go. My heart pounds in my chest, and I swear she can hear it.
“Why don’t you ever push me away?” she asks, her voice a whisper that feels like a challenge.
"I should," I manage, my voice barely audible.
"Then do it," she says, her tone sharper now, daring me.
I don’t. Instead, I stare at her, my breaths coming in shallow gasps as she leans closer. Her hand slides up, her fingers brushing against my jaw, tipping my chin up so I have no choice but to meet her gaze.
And then it happens. The tension snaps like a string pulled too tight, and before I can think, her lips crash against mine. It’s not gentle, not tentative—it’s demanding, fierce, like she’s wanted this for a long time.
I gasp against her mouth, my hands instinctively reaching for her shoulders to steady myself, but she doesn’t relent. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as if the space between us is unbearable.
It’s overwhelming, the way she kisses me—unrestrained, as if she’s daring me to keep up. Her hand partly in my dress, in a promiscuous way. My mind races, my heart thundering in my chest, but I find myself giving in, matching her intensity with my own.
My hands slide up, clutching at the fabric of her dress, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us. She lets out a low hum of approval, her lips moving against mine with a ferocity that leaves me breathless.
When she finally pulls back, we’re both panting, our breaths mingling in the charged space between us. Her forehead rests against mine, and for a moment, neither of us says anything.
“You’re impossible,” I manage to whisper, my voice shaky but firm.
She chuckles, low and satisfied, her fingers still tangled in my hair. "And yet," she murmurs, her lips brushing against mine as she speaks, "you’re still here."
I don’t respond, because she’s right. Again.
Reena’s lips leave mine, but only barely. Her forehead brushes against mine, our breaths still mingling in the charged silence that follows. My knees feel weak, and my heart pounds as though it’s trying to break free from my chest. For a moment, the world feels like it’s tilting, her presence the only thing grounding me.
Then, she smirks. That infuriating, maddening smirk. “I knew you had it in you, Athella,” she murmurs, her voice low and teasing, each word dripping with satisfaction.
I step back sharply, needing distance to gather my bearings, though my heels falter against the rug beneath us. My fingers instinctively go to my lips, still tingling from the kiss, while I glare at her with as much indignation as I can muster. “You…” My voice catches, and I quickly clear my throat, a light pant still leaving my mouth. “You’re insufferable.”
Reena crosses her arms and leans casually against the wall, as though she hasn’t just upended my entire world. “Oh, I’m the insufferable one?” she counters, her tone laced with amusement. “You didn’t seem to mind a moment ago.”
I can feel my face burning, and I’m certain it’s not just from the wine. “You ambushed me,” I retort, though my words lack the conviction I’d hoped for. “You can’t just… just kiss someone and then act like it’s all some game.”
Her smirk falters for just a heartbeat—so brief I might have imagined it—but it’s enough to stir something in my chest. Then, she tilts her head, her violet eyes narrowing slightly. “Who says it’s a game?”
The weight of her words hits me like a stone dropped into still water, rippling outward until it’s all I can feel. I open my mouth to respond, to demand an explanation, but nothing comes out. Instead, she steps closer, her movements slow, deliberate, as though giving me the chance to back away. I don’t.
“Maybe,” she continues, her voice softer now, almost contemplative, “I just wanted to see if you’d let me. If you’d stop pretending you’re not curious. Be glad I didn’t test you as much as I wanted to, almost did more than just a kiss” She sticks her tongue out at me, like a child.
“Curious?” I echo the word foreign and unsteady on my tongue, ignoring her teasing comment. “You think this is about curiosity?”
Her gaze dips to my lips before returning to my eyes, and my stomach twists into knots. “Isn’t it?” she asks, her tone deceptively light, though her expression betrays something deeper—something I can’t quite name. “At least you can finally say you had your first kiss.”
I’m caught, trapped between the fire in her eyes and the maddening tilt of her lips. And she knows it. Of course she does. Reena has always had a way of getting under my skin, of leaving me flustered and off-balance. But this… this is different.
“You’re impossible,” I whisper, though my voice lacks the sharpness I’d intended.
Her smirk returns, softer this time, almost fond. “And yet, you’re still here,” she murmurs, echoing her earlier words.
I don’t know how to respond to that. My thoughts are a tangled mess, my emotions a chaotic storm. All I know is that the air between us feels charged, like the moments before a summer storm, and I can’t seem to pull myself away.
“Let me guess,” I say, forcing some semblance of control into my voice. “This is the part where you make some flippant comment and walk away, leaving me to wonder what any of this meant.”
Reena tilts her head, considering my words. Then, to my surprise, she shakes her head. “Not this time,” she says, her voice quiet but firm.
Before I can process her words, she takes my hand. Her touch is surprisingly gentle, her fingers warm against mine. “Meet me tomorrow,” she says, her tone no longer teasing but earnest. “Your chambers, since I'm staying in a guest room for the next week or so. Until my family sends a carriage to pick me up”
“Why?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
Her thumb brushes over my knuckles, sending a shiver up my spine. “Because I’m not done proving you wrong,” she replies, a hint of that familiar challenge in her voice, though it’s tempered by something softer, something almost vulnerable.
I should refuse. I should pull my hand away, laugh off her words, and remind her that I have responsibilities, appearances to maintain. But instead, I find myself nodding, the word “Okay” barely more than a whisper on my lips.
Reena’s smile widens, and for the first time, it feels genuine, free of the smugness and bravado she usually wears like armor. “Good girl,” she says simply, releasing my hand and stepping back. “Don’t keep me waiting, Princess.”
With that, she turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, my heart racing and my mind spinning. I quickly head to my chambers and go to bed, making sure nobody sees me in such an unseemly way.
I don’t know when I finally fell asleep. My mind kept looping, turning Reena’s touch over and over in my head, like a quiet storm I can’t escape. It’s strange how something so simple can feel so… impossible to ignore. And then, somehow, everything fades, the world sinking away, leaving me in an uncomfortable haze of sleep that I’m sure is more like restlessness than anything else.
The first light of morning creeps through my curtains, pale and cold. I’m tangled in the sheets, my body stiff and uncomfortable, and my mind—still reeling from last night—is nowhere near ready to face the day. My heart pounds, but it’s not from the usual pressure of duties. It’s something else, something… her.
The knock on my door is soft but insistent, pulling me from the daze I’ve been trapped in. I barely have time to sit up before the maid enters, her face calm but too guarded, like she’s carrying some silent weight.
"Your Highness," she says, her voice careful. "Your father wishes for you to visit your mother’s chambers. He thinks it best you check on her."
My stomach drops at the mention of my mother. She’s been… different lately. Quiet in a way that feels wrong. Even the servants have started whispering, though they never dare to say much aloud. And I—though I’ve tried to ignore it—can’t deny that something’s not right. Not with her. Her infliction after my brother was born has gotten worse.
"Of course," I murmur, though the word feels hollow, floating in the air between us. "I’ll go at once."
The maid gives a small nod and retreats, but I can’t quite shake the unease that settles into my chest. I push myself from the bed, feet hitting the cold marble floor with a sharpness that forces me to focus. The day’s demands press in on me, but my mind keeps slipping back to last night. To Reena.
I force myself to dress quickly, trying not to look at the reflection in the mirror too long, because the flush on my cheeks refuses to disappear, and my thoughts are far too tangled to put in order. But none of it matters right now. I have to see my mother.
When I reach her chambers, each step feels heavier than the last. What if something’s wrong? What if I’ve waited too long to notice? I push the thoughts aside. She needs me now. The rest—everything else—can wait.
I knock lightly on the door, the sound so faint it almost seems like it won’t reach her. When there’s no answer, I push it open, stepping inside to the soft scent of lavender that clings to the air, despite everything else feeling stifling and heavy. My mother is sitting by the window, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular, a thousand miles away. Derek, only a few months old, is nestled in her arms. His tiny face scrunches in his sleep, his little hands curled into fists, the soft rise and fall of his chest the only thing that moves in the still room.
She doesn’t look up when I enter, nor does she react to my presence. But I can see it in the way her hands tremble ever so slightly as she adjusts Derek’s blanket, like she’s doing everything in her power to care for him, but it costs her something—some piece of herself that she can’t quite give anymore. I step forward, trying to keep the sadness out of my voice.
"Mother, you’re awake," I say quietly, my tone light, like we haven’t been trapped in this same quiet struggle for weeks. "How is he today?"
She doesn’t answer right away, her fingers brushing Derek’s soft hair, the motion slow and deliberate, but not entirely affectionate. There’s a bitterness in the way she looks at him, something that cuts deeper than any words could. After a long pause, she exhales a soft sigh and finally speaks.
"He’s fine," she says, her voice flat, though her eyes never leave Derek. "He’s always fine, isn’t he? No matter what." Her gaze flickers to me for a moment, and there’s something there—regret, maybe? Sadness that doesn’t belong in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the way things have been. She quickly looks away again, as if the moment of vulnerability was too much to hold.
I sit beside her, not knowing what to say, but knowing the silence between us has grown far too large to ignore anymore. I reach out, gently brushing my fingers over her hand, offering what little comfort I can. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t respond either, and for a moment, it’s like time itself is suspended. Neither of us knowing how to fix what’s broken.
The hallways are colder than I expect, the chill from the stone floors seeping into my bones, but it’s nothing compared to the heaviness still weighing on me. I’m not sure where I’m going, but my feet seem to move on their own, drawing me away from the silence of my mother’s rooms, away from the responsibility that lingers in the air like dust. The kitchen quarters aren’t far, and as I walk, I feel the sharp pang of hunger gnawing at my insides. Not the kind of hunger you can ease with food, but the kind that pulls you, that makes you seek comfort even when you know it won’t fill the emptiness.
I reach the kitchen, and the warmth of the space feels like a stark contrast to the cold of my thoughts. The maids are busy, and the scent of bread and stews fills the air, both familiar and distant. I spot a familiar face near the hearth—Mira, one of the older servants who’s always managed to smile, even when the palace feels too heavy with secrets.
“Princess,” she greets me with a soft smile, though I can see the concern in her eyes. “Would you like something to eat?”
I nod, though I can’t muster much more than a faint, tired smile in return. “Yes, please. Whatever you have.”
Mira nods and sets to work, her hands moving with practiced ease as she prepares a plate for me. I lean against the counter, watching her work in silence. I don’t know why I came here. Maybe it’s the need for something simple, something real. Something I can hold onto while everything else feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.
As the food is placed in front of me, I don’t feel hungry in the way I should. But I eat anyway, letting the warmth of the broth settle in my chest, if only for a moment, before the weight of everything else creeps back in.
The day had stretched on endlessly, sunlight pouring through the high windows of my bedroom and casting golden pools across the floor. The room smelled faintly of lavender and ink, the air a quiet witness to my thoughts. I sat at my writing desk, my hand clutching a quill as I leaned over a parchment already speckled with scratched-out words and faint blotches. The faint chirping of finches from the garden below provided a gentle accompaniment to my work.
I had been at this for hours—since the morning light had first crept over my window panes. Words came haltingly, weaving and unwinding in my mind like a hesitant melody. My heart ached with an emotion I scarcely had words for, though I was determined to try. Reena etched into my mind as I wrote, my mother on my mind as well, they both kept intruding upon my thoughts.
"She is the fire that dances at the edge of the horizon." I murmured under my breath as I wrote, pausing to frown at my own sentimentality. I sighed, setting the quill down and pressing my hands to my cheeks. It was futile. Reena’s presence had infiltrated my every thought, turning my usually measured prose into something erratic and maddeningly romantic. My mother and her depression also haunted my mind, lingering now in the outskirts, repressed deep down.
The sun had dipped low on the horizon when a soft knock came at my door, startling me from my reverie. I froze, my heart skipping as though it already knew who waited on the other side. Rising from my chair with an uncharacteristic quickness, I hastily folded the parchment and slid it into the drawer of my desk. My fingers fumbled with the small brass key as I locked it, ensuring that no prying eyes could uncover my most vulnerable thoughts.
When I opened the door, the hallway beyond was dimly lit by a single sconce, but the figure waiting there was unmistakable. Reena leaned casually against the doorframe, her ever-present smirk playing at her lips. Her dark hair was slightly mussed, and the soft glow of the lantern light made her golden eyes gleam with mischief.
“Miss me?” she asked, her voice low and teasing.
My composure faltered, my cheeks flushing as I averted my gaze. “Reena, you… you shouldn’t be here so brazenly. What if someone sees you?”
“Let them see,” she replied, stepping forward just enough that I had to take a small step back. “Or better yet, let them think I’m here to steal all your precious quills. That’s believable, right?”
My lips twitched in spite of myself, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re radiant,” she countered, the smirk softening into something more genuine as she crossed the threshold and shut the door behind her. “Now, what were you doing in here all day? Dreaming about me?”
My blush deepened as I avoided her gaze, stepping back toward my desk instinctively, as if to guard its contents. “I was writing,” I said simply, my voice quieter than I intended.
“Writing about me, no doubt,” she teased, taking a step closer. Her tone was light, but there was a warmth in her eyes that made my pulse quicken.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I managed, though my voice wavered slightly. I turned away under the pretense of straightening the items on my desk, hoping she wouldn’t press further.
Reena chuckled, the sound low and rich as she leaned against the desk beside me. “Fine. Keep your secrets for now. But I’ll get them out of you eventually.”
I glanced at her, unable to suppress a small smile. Her confidence was infuriating and captivating all at once. "We’ll see about that," I said, though I could hear the lack of conviction in my voice.
Reena's grin widened as she reached out, her fingers lightly brushing mine. The simple touch sent a jolt through me, and I looked up at her, my breath catching as our eyes met. Uncertainty flooded my mind—how was she going to prove that she meant that kiss?
Suddenly, the gap between us vanished. Her lips brushed mine in a soft, lingering touch that sent a shiver down my spine. It was gentle, deliberate, as if she were asking permission without words. My breath hitched, and for a moment, I forgot how to move, how to breathe. All I could focus on was the way her hand cradled my jaw, steadying me even as the world seemed to tilt beneath my feet.
She pulled back just enough to look at me, her golden eyes warm and searching. Her thumb brushed against my cheek, her touch light but unrelenting. "You don't have to say anything," she murmured, her voice low, almost reverent. "But if you want me to stop, tell me now."
I couldn't speak, couldn't find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me. Instead, I shook my head ever so slightly, my eyes never leaving hers. That was all the encouragement she needed.
Her hand slid from my jaw to my shoulder, the movement slow and deliberate. She closed the small distance between us again, her forehead resting against mine. "You're trembling," she whispered, her breath warm against my lips. "Do I make you nervous?"
"Yes," I admitted, my voice barely audible. "But not in the way you think."
Reena smiled, her free hand finding mine and guiding it to rest against her chest, just above her heart. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat seemed to ground me, even as her closeness threatened to overwhelm me. "You don't have to be nervous," she said softly. "Not with me."
Her touch moved lower, her fingers brushing against my arm and trailing down to my waist. Every movement felt like a question, a quiet request for permission. When her hand grazed my leg, just above my knee, I gasped softly, the contact sending a spark of heat through me.
"Is this okay?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded, my breath catching as I struggled to steady my thoughts. "Yes," I whispered back, my voice trembling.
Reena's grin turned mischievous as she gently pushed me back against the desk, her hands trailing up my sides. She leaned in, her lips hovering just above mine, teasing me with the promise of another kiss. "You're so responsive," she murmured, her breath mingling with mine. "It's intoxicating."
Before I could reply, she captured my lips in a deeper, more demanding kiss. Her hand slid up to tangle in my hair, tilting my head to deepen the connection. I melted into her embrace, my hands clutching at her shoulders as I surrendered to the intensity of the moment.
Just as quickly as it began, she pulled away, leaving me breathless and yearning for more. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of triumph and desire as she took a step back, her hands lingering on my waist before dropping away.
"I think that's enough for now," she said, her voice husky. "I wouldn't want to completely unravel you in one night."
I stared at her, my mind racing to process what had just happened. Before I could gather my thoughts, she turned and walked toward the door, her movements graceful and unhurried. Pausing at the threshold, she glanced back at me, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
"Until next time," she said softly, then slipped out of the room, blowing me a kiss goodbye, and leaving me a breathless, disheveled mess.
As the door clicked shut behind her, I pressed my fingers to my swollen lips, the taste of her still lingering. The room felt emptier without her, the air heavy with the scent of her perfume. I took a shaky breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me.
Reena had left me on the precipice of something profound, a tantalizing glimpse of what could be. The anticipation of our next encounter sent a thrill through me, even as I struggled to regain my composure.
I wrote at my desk for a while after, then finally went to bed when my mind eased.
When I woke the next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the room in a warm, golden glow. The events of the previous night rushed back to me all at once, and I sat up with a start, my hands instinctively flying to my neck.
I scrambled to the mirror by my dressing table, my heart sinking as I took in my reflection, letting out a loud yelp of shock. There, just above the collar of my nightgown, were faint marks—darker against the pale skin of my neck. I tilted my head, gingerly tracing them with my fingers.
“Gods,” I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible.
Reena’s grin flashed in my mind, and heat flooded my cheeks. How dare she? How dare she leave something so visible, so undeniable? My reflection stared back at me, wide-eyed and disheveled, a far cry from the poised princess I was meant to be.
Panic began to set in. Today was not a day for discretion—I had meetings, duties, and an entire court to navigate. If anyone saw these marks…
“No, no, no,” I muttered, rummaging through the drawers of my dressing table. A scarf? No, too obvious. Makeup? Perhaps, though the marks were more stubborn than I’d hoped.
I grabbed the small jar of powder I usually used to even out my complexion and dabbed at my neck, working to blend the color. But no matter how much I applied, the marks still peeked through faintly, like a secret refusing to stay hidden.
As I worked, my mind spiraled into an inner conflict. I should be furious at her for this—furious at her audacity, her nerve, her complete disregard for how this would affect me. And yet, a part of me—a traitorous, treacherous part—didn’t want the marks to fade.
They were a reminder, tangible proof of her touch, her closeness, her control. It was maddening.
I stood back and examined my work. The marks were faint now, nearly invisible unless someone looked closely. I nervously peeked out of my room, scanning the corridor for any signs of passing maids. The coast was clear for the moment, but I could hear faint footsteps approaching. My heart sank. This wasn’t something I could resolve on my own—not without making a fool of myself for the rest of the day.
A familiar face rounded the corner: Lila, one of my personal attendants. She was younger than most of the staff, barely older than me, and far too perceptive for her own good. Her sharp green eyes immediately spotted me lingering by the door.
“Your Highness?” she called out, balancing a pile of folded linens on her hip. “Why are you skulking about like some court spy?”
“Lila,” I said, my voice a mix of relief and trepidation. “I need your help. Urgently.”
Her eyebrows shot up, and she approached quickly, abandoning the linens on a nearby table. “What happened? Is it serious?”
“Not life-threatening,” I muttered, stepping back into the room and gesturing for her to follow. “But… it’s sensitive.”
Her curiosity was piqued now, and she slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind her. “Sensitive?” she repeated, a smirk already forming on her lips. “Oh, this ought to be good.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly regretting calling her. “Lila, promise me you’ll keep this between us.”
She placed a hand over her heart, mock solemn. “Cross my heart, Princess.”
I sighed and turned toward the mirror, pulling the collar of my gown slightly to the side to reveal the faint but unmistakable marks on my neck. “I need these covered before anyone sees.”
There was a moment of silence before Lila burst out laughing. She clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the sound, but her shoulders shook with mirth.
“Lila!” I hissed, turning to glare at her.
“I’m sorry!” she choked out between giggles. “It’s just… well, this explains why you’ve been acting so flustered all morning.” She leaned closer, examining the marks with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “So, which lucky gentleman left these?”
I froze, my cheeks blazing. “It wasn’t a… gentleman.”
Lila blinked, her laughter subsiding as her eyes widened. “Oh.” She paused, then her grin returned, even wider this time. “Well, well, Your Highness. I didn’t realize you had such… diverse tastes.”
“Lila!” I snapped, though the heat in my face betrayed my embarrassment.
“Alright, alright,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender. “So, who’s the lucky lady, then? Surely not one of those simpering court debutantes?”
I hesitated, biting my lip. “It was… Reena,” I admitted grudgingly, avoiding her gaze.
There was a beat of silence before Lila let out a low whistle. “The princess from Lyreth? The one who’s always riling you up?”
“Yes, that one,” I muttered, tugging at my sleeve. “And I don’t need your commentary about it.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of commenting,” Lila said, though her smirk betrayed her. “But I’ll admit, I didn’t see that coming. She doesn’t seem like the type for soft, romantic gestures.”
“She isn’t,” I muttered, unable to stop the memory of last night from flooding my thoughts. “Can you just fix this before someone else sees?”
Lila hummed thoughtfully, moving to the dressing table and gathering a few pots of makeup. “You know, Princess, you’re awfully cute when you’re embarrassed. Almost makes me want to draw this out.”
I shot her a withering glare. “If you’re quite finished…”
“Alright, alright,” she said, chuckling as she approached with a brush in hand. She tilted my chin up gently, inspecting the marks with a critical eye. “Reena must’ve been quite thorough.”
“Lila,” I warned, my voice sharp.
“Sorry,” she said, though the grin she wore suggested she wasn’t sorry at all. “Hold still, this won’t take long.”
She worked quickly, dabbing and blending the makeup with a precision that only someone used to the royal routine could manage. Despite her teasing, she was focused, and I found myself relaxing slightly under her care.
When she finished, she stepped back, handing me a small mirror. “There. Good as new.”
I examined her handiwork, relieved to see the marks were completely hidden. “Thank you,” I said, my tone grudging but sincere.
“Anytime, Your Highness,” Lila said, curtsying with exaggerated flourish. She paused at the door, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk. “And if you ever need more… discreet assistance, you know where to find me.”
I groaned, burying my face in my hands as the door clicked shut behind her.