My body ran with a trepid energy as I strolled in to the kitchen and hugged Mary. She had a bright smile on her face and slightly shook her head at seeing me down here this morning. I grabbed a bun from the table wiggling my eyebrows at her. She laughed at me.

“What are you doing down here today, my lady?” she asked snatching the basket with bread away before I could grab another bun.

I inclined my head to the side with a frown. “How many times must I insist that you call me Lana before you actually do?”

She placed the basket well out of my reach and folded her arms across her chest. “I do not want to get into trouble, which will happen if anyone hears me call you by your first name, my lady. Even the other kitchen staff will scold me.”

I sighed heavily. I didn’t want to get her into trouble, but I hated that she needed to address me as her superior. She was my friend, nothing less. But I knew what she said was true. My parents wouldn’t permit our ‘staff’ to call us by anything other than ‘my lord’ or ‘my lady’. They were never to forget who was in charge. “If they scold you, tell them to answer to me.”

Mary laughed again. “If only it were that simple, my lady. Now, you never answered my question. What are you doing down here today? Don’t you have preparations to make for your journey tomorrow?”

I lowered my eyes and bit my bottom lip. “That would be correct. I do have preparations… but… I’m hiding.”

She raised her eyebrows. “From your mother?”

“Who else? She wants the engagement to go off without a hitch, and I want the exact opposite. So you can see how that may be a problem.”

Mary started gathering the dirty dishes that was spread about the kitchen. I helped her and we walked them over to the sink. There was already water in and she started scrubbing. “I don’t understand, my lady. Isn’t Sir John Argeno a good match? I heard that you are the envy of the other noble families for having secured that engagement.”

She handed me the pot she was scrubbing and I dried it off. I stalled, unsure of how to answer her. John was everything but a good match, but when I had tried to tell people before, they wouldn’t believe me. I didn’t doubt that Mary would believe me, but it was still an uncomfortable subject to bring up. I settled for the easiest explanation. “I don’t love him, and I always believed that eventually I would marry for love. I don’t want to let go of that hope.”

Pity shown in Mary’s eyes. She knew as well as I did that women in my position weren’t afforded the chance at love. We married to move our families higher up the social ladder.

My family was one of the oldest of the twelve noble families in the kingdom of Eerea. Certain expectations went along with such a long line of “pure” blood, as my mother called it, and one of the foremost was that I would marry someone from the other twelve families. Before I had even been born, it was decided that I would marry with an heir of the house Argeno, the oldest noble family after the royals.

There was an undeniable comfort in the stability of such a certain future.  But there was a part of me – usually quiet, but sometimes as bothersome as a tiny rock in a shoe – that longed for something more. It longed for lack of certainty, to be surprised. But with the Lady of Eleanor as my mother, I doubted that anything would ever be out of place. She had every aspect of my life meticulously planned out. On my seventeenth birthday, I went, as scheduled, on my first date with John. I considered that one of the worst days of my life.

John was a knight in the King’s Guard, one of the most respected orders in the realm. He knew it too. Everywhere he went he would announce his rank and expect everyone to treat him almost as well as they would treat the king. I wasexpected to treat him exactly like a king.

“Love will come with time,” Mary commented, snapping me back to the present. “He’s a respectable knight. I’m sure that in no time you will find something that will endure him to you.” She was trying to help, but I knew better. There would never be a single detail about John Argeno that I could like. Everything about the man was vile. There was a greater chance of me running into the woods and cuddling with a bear.

“I hope you are right.”

We lapsed into a silence and I tried to help her with as much of the dishes as I could before my brother found me. He was breathless as he entered the kitchen, his nostrils flaring.

“There you are,” he said sharply. “Our mother has been looking for you everywhere.”

Mary and I shared a small smile. “If she has been looking for me everywhere, then why are you the one out of breath?” I asked.

He cocked his head to the side and closed his eyes, trying to muster the patience I knew he didn’t have to deal with me. “Our mother looking for you translates to me running around until I find you. You must know that by now.”

I dried my hands and gave Mary a hug. “Enjoy your trip, my lady. Everything will be fine,” she tried to assure me.

“Thank you, Mary. You are a good friend.”

Zane nodded at Mary and started steering me from the kitchen. “Why you insist to spend so much down there still boggles my mind.”

“You wouldn’t feel that way if you just tried it once. There are quite magnificent people, our ‘staff’.”

“I know that,” he said with a small smile. “But you know Mother doesn’t approve of you spending so much time with them. She’s an elitist. She doesn’t care how good of people they are. The only thing that matters to her is –“

“Status,” I finished for him.

“Exactly. She is quite furious with you at the moment… Be warned. Tread carefully,” he said as he paused outside my chambers. “Mother is waiting for you inside.”

“You aren’t coming in with me?”

“No, I still value my life, thank you very much.”

I scowled at him. “Always the flare for the dramatic, Zane!”

“It’s why you love me!” he called as he all but ran down the hall and away from my mother and her rage.

I took a deep breath and gave myself a mental pep-talk before entering my room.

Lady Jane Eleanor was pacing about, examining two ball gowns in her hands. She seemed to weigh the two, trying to decide which one was better. I came to a stand-still. Surely those dresses couldn’t be for me? They didn’t include the high necklines I always wore. 

My father was protective of me, almost to a fault. He kept me sheltered from nearly everything my entire life. I had never seen anyone die, nor had I really witnessed anyone fight. Apart from that, my father believed that I should be covered from head to toe so that I may keep my modesty intact until the day I got married. As a result, all my dresses had necklines that started from my chin and skirts that ended at my feet. They weren’t tightly fit, and the sleeves reached my fingers. They didn’t look too hideous, but I disliked wearing them all the same.

Seeing my mother look at dresses so startling different than the ones I was used to caused a tendril of fear to seep over my skin. That earlier anxiety rose and I felt like running or jumping to rid myself of the excess energy. Her eyes finally found me.

“Lana! There you are!” she quickly walked up to me, holding the dresses at my throat, mentally dressing me in them. She lowered them before glaring at me. “How dare you disappear on a day as important as this one? Do you even realize how many preparations we still have left to do? We cannot afford to waste time looking for you!”

I managed to look compliant, bowing my head in shame. “I know, Mother. I’m sorry. I just needed a small break to collect my thoughts. Tomorrow we set out to meet with my betrothed, and it has me slightly anxious.”

My mother judged me skeptically. She placed the dresses on my bed and closed the distance between us. She tucked the loose strands of my hair behind my ears, and stroked my cheek with a small smile. “Oh, honey, that is understandable. This is quite a big step to take. Being nervous about your betrothal is nothing more than is expected. Now come on, we need to select what dress you are going to wear when we arrive. You need to look your absolute best!”

I forced a smile for her benefit. I had said the right things, and her excitement won out over whatever scolding she was planning on giving me for disappearing. For the next few hours, my world consisted of trying on dresses and agreeing with my mother which ones were the most flattering even though none of them were my taste.

By the time night came, I thought I would be exhausted. But I felt restless. My blood felt like it was pumping too quickly and none of the usual relaxing techniques I had been taught were working. Perhaps I was simply still nervous about seeing John in a few days. His village was at least a week’s travel from mine, but the days were getting too short. A week was simply not enough time to fully prepare to see him again.

Because of my father’s protectiveness, I had never been with a man before. My first ever date had been with John, and he was everything but modest. He knew how sheltered my father had kept me, but he had the illusion in his mind that I was his; and, because I was to be married to him on my eighteenth birthday, he could do with me as he pleased. He had forcefully taken my first kiss on that disastrous initial date, and almost forcefully took more before my brother walked in on us. They had laughed it off, and my brother promised not to say anything; a secret among men. I had spent the rest of my birthday crying in my chambers and wishing that I would never have to see John again. But I knew my wish would never be granted. I feared what it would be like to be his lady.

And so, I believed that it was nerves or anxiety about going to John in a week that had set me on edge. I climbed into my bed not heeding the warning my body was giving me. But how was I supposed to know any better?

I brushed my long brown hair and placed the comb back on my nightstand when I finished. My eye caught the hand-held mirror that Mary insisted I keep near my bed at all times, and I took it into my hands. My reflection stared back at me, and for the most part, I just looked tired even though the energy pulsing through me suggested otherwise. There were bruises under my big, brown eyes, and I knew if anyone saw me right now I would be considered utterly unpresentable. I didn’t care and placed the mirror down before braiding my hair.

My head hit the pillow, but it took me hours before I finally fell asleep, and even then my mind wouldn’t really shut down. I saw flashes, like lighting, shoot underneath my eyelids the whole night as I tossed and turned in my sleep. I didn’t know for how long I slept before I was rudely awakened by the impact of my body hitting the floor. In the distance I heard a peal of thunder just as my eyes flew open. I was suddenly acutely awake.

My eyes shot to the candle on the table on the other side of the room, an useable force beckoning them. It was burning, the flame a deep blue I had never seen fire be before. I had no idea how it lit. A scream escaped my lips before I had the sense to stop it.

A blurred shape in the corner of my vision instantly drove all other thoughts from my mind.  I ducked instinctively, though I was in no danger and had no idea what I was ducking from.  It took what felt like an hour, but must have been only a second, to identify the massive object in flight across my room. My grand dresser hit the wall with the speed of a cannonball and fell to the ground in a thousand little pieces. Clothing scattered like snow over the shards.

My thoughts became frantic, uneven, and I didn’t know what was going on. Had I done that? I couldn’t have, could I? I became keenly aware of an immense pressure building up on my body, so strong it felt like it might dislodge my eyes from their sockets.  I screamed again, this time calling for help.

“SOMEONE HELP ME!” I shrieked, and the glass from the windows shattered, though downward, not inward, in some kind of stroke of good fortune. I couldn’t tear my wide eyes from the newly broken glass. It was impossible. It wasn’t possible. No. This was not real. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t real. I was dreaming, that was it. I was just anxious about going to John in a few days and so my mind had constructed a nightmare.

 But even as I thought this, the dust arising from the smashed dresser and the night air tumbling in through the broken window – as real a pair of sensations as any I had ever know --  convinced me beyond any doubt that this had to be true. This was real. All of it was.

Someone burst through my door, but I couldn’t look away from the pile of glass next to the candle. “Lana, are you alright? Lana?” my father asked as he knelt down beside me and pulled me into his arms. I had no idea what I even looked like. I must’ve appeared nearly catatonic with fright. When I could finally look away from the broken window and at my father, his whole body went rigid. He jumped away from me instantly and started moving as far away as he could.

“Father?” I asked, my voice broken.

“What have you done to my daughter?” he asked, his voice flat and scary. I didn’t understand why he was looking at me that way. As if he was frightened of me. As if I might hurt him.

“It’s me, Lana. I’m right here…” I tried to say with conviction, but my voice came out small and weak.

He shook his head feverishly. “No. No, my daughter has the most beautiful deep brown eyes. She does not have blue eyes.”

His words didn’t register in my mind. “Father, it’s me. Please, I’m scared.”

“My daughter’s eyes are brown, not blue,” he repeated.

The words finally broke free in my mind. No, it couldn’t be. He was right, I did have brown eyes, but they couldn’t be blue now. I reached for my mirror, much like I had earlier that night, and looked into it.

There was no mistaking it. Staring straight back at me was my own reflection with one clear difference. My brown eyes were gone. In their place were eyes shining an eerie blue that was the exact same color as the flame from the candle across the room. I felt faint, and my vision became unfocused.

No, this wasn’t real. I was still dreaming. I had to be still dreaming.  Something about this was very, very wrong. Please let me still be dreaming.

My thoughts kept wandering in a frantic circle trying to make sense of everything. Trying to find any explanation for this other than what was really happening. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn’t even realize that my father had taken the mirror from me. And I definitely didn’t register that he was about to knock me out with it until it was too late.