My wardrobe door hangs open when I enter, bearing a dark purple gown. Silver glitters around the top of the hanger—a belt to make up for my lacking corset. The inside of the dress is smooth against my skin, unlike the layers of tulle settling over my hips. I fasten the belt around my waist, then check my appearance in the mirror. Strands of hair splay outward, duller compared to this morning. I run a brush over them, removing several knots that formed during the day. My hair falls in a sleek cascade several inches below my shoulders. Satisfied, I exit my room and make my way to the Royal Dining Hall.

Greenery brightens the beige walls, along with bouquets of red, yellow, and white roses. Their sweet fragrance freshens the air, like I'm walking through a garden instead of the palace halls. Silken ribbons, reminiscent of spun gold, intertwine with the decor and twirl up banisters, ending in broad bows. Two such bows wrap around the jeweled handles of the Royal Dining Hall. A guard stands at the door in full uniform and opens it as I approach.

Inside, eleven chairs line half the dining table that stretches almost the entire length of the room. Sigvard, Benno and his family, and Uncle Rothbart sit on the cream-colored divan and chairs in front of a huge white fireplace. The clinking of miniature teacups on saucers and the crackle of flames are the only sources of clatter.

Now that I'm here, no longer active from climbing or changing my attire, hunger throbs in my stomach. My eyes land on a plate of petite biscuits on the coffee table, right in the center of the sitting area. I join the others, snagging a cookie on my way to an empty chair.

"Don't spoil your dinner," Uncle Rothbart says, breaking the silence. His blue eyes sparkle like two turquoise gemstones.

"I won't," I say. "I'm starving right now."

"And just how did you build up such an appetite?"

"Climbing trees." I nibble on the cookie. The sections I bite off crumble into sweet, buttery sand under my teeth.

Uncle Rothbart exchanges a glance with King Obediah and Queen Serwa of Riaca. Smiles spread across all three faces.

"So glad that the prince and princess are attending to their health," King Obediah says in a rich, bass tone. "Fresh air and exercise maintain physical and mental wellbeing."

I dip my head. Heat singes my cheeks as I realize that I never greeted them. "Good evening, Your Majesties. So good of you to stay with us."

"It's an honor to join you during this time of celebration and remembrance," Queen Serwa says. In contrast to her husband, her voice is airy and high-pitched.

Uncle Rothbart raises his teacup. "To all the Queens of Saursi. Though no longer with us, may we forever remember and celebrate their lives and impact on this kingdom."

Everyone drinks except me. I finish my cookie to join in the toast.

Doors open behind me, and giggles spill into the room. I already know who it is, but I twist around anyway. Clemaina hangs off the arm of her fiance, Duke Tharbort, or as Clemaina calls him, her "darling Sewale." Sewale scans the room, carrying himself with an excessive amount of dignity. A red cape drapes around his broad shoulders, and he dresses in a military uniform, even though he barely served for a year. I'd say they're a perfect match, but I must consider that both are next in line for the throne. Neither, in my humble opinion, are worthy of such a title.

The doors open once more, and King Ivandor strides in. My father is the epitome of regality, donning a red velvet mantle on his muscular frame and a black tunic embroidered with gold vegetal patterns. Uncle Vonimir follows more slowly in a simple black tunic and cape.

"Good evening, King Obadiah, Queen Serwa, and Princes of Riaca," King Ivandor says.

"Good evening, King Ivandor," King Obadiah responds.

"Shall we gather at the table?" King Ivandor sweeps his arm toward the prepared seats, and we migrate to it.

King Ivandor finds his seat at the head of the table. As is customary for the second eldest, I sit on his right. Sigvard takes the seat on my right, next to Benno, while Clemaina and her fiance sit across from us.

Servants march into the room, bringing our courses one by one. Polite conversation accompanies the meal, mainly between King Ivandor and the Riaca Royals, though Uncle Rothbart joins in every so often. After soups, scallops, salad, lamb, and fruit, I'm stuffed. King Ivandor waits for everyone to finish the dessert course, a light pudding, or at least indicate they finished eating by placing their spoons on their napkins, before inviting us back to the Dining Room lounge.

I lean back in the same cushioned chair from earlier, next to my uncles. Now that I'm done eating, my meal weighs heavy in my stomach. I could fall asleep right here, though a glimmer of excitement keeps me awake. We usually get presents a few days prior to the Festival of Fallen Roses. I won't miss that for anything.

King Ivandor doesn't sit with the rest of us. He stands in front of the fireplace, warmth and mystery gushing from his smile. He nods toward the servants, and they exit the room.

"As is tradition during the Festival of Fallen Roses," he begins, "We shall exchange gifts in remembrance of the Queens of Saursi, the gifts to this land who have moved on from this life."

The servants return with a collection of packages wrapped in shiny gold paper. They place them at the king's feet, then retreat to the back of the room.

"The first gifts are for our guests," King Ivandor announces. He passes four boxes to the royals seated on the divan facing the fireplace. "The next two, for my brothers." He hands Uncle Vonimir and Uncle Rothbart their presents. "And now for my children and soon to be son-in-law."

Sigvard's eyes light up as he receives a huge, rectangular box. Father hands me the opposite, a box so small it fits in my palm. My hopes deflate at the sight of it, but I remind myself that it may be special on the inside. I slip my thumb under the folded paper, unwrapping a charcoal-colored box.

"Oh, this is so exquisite!" Clemaina gushes from the divan opposite me. She pulls a pearl necklace from the box in her hands. "Thank you so much, Father! I love it!"

I want to roll my eyes. Her reactions to presents are over the top every time.

I flick open the lid of my box to see a silver band resting on a bed of white satin. Rubies glimmer around the perimeter with hairline streaks of gold. I glance up to find my father's kind blue eyes staring at me.

"What do you think, Aylo?" he asks. In the corner of my eye, I spot Sigvard holding a bow and quiver. I swallow the lump of disappointment squeezing my throat.

"It's lovely." I smile at my father, and he seems to stand taller, prouder.

"Why don't you try it on?" Uncle Rothbart suggests.

"Okay," I say with a shaky chuckle. I don't normally have an audience when opening gifts. The metal slips around my finger, threatening to fall should I turn my hand upside down. "Thank you."

"Not quite your size," Father's voice rumbles. "But perhaps you'll grow into it."

I nod, slipping it back inside the box. I look in Sigvard's direction, but catch Sewale's green eyes on me. He smiles slightly, then returns his attention to the blade polish he received.

Sigvard's gift is extravagant. Intricate carvings adorn the tawny wood. The feathered backs of eight burnished arrows stick out of the quiver. Of course he gets a weapon, and I get jewelry. Not that there's anything wrong with jewelry. It's just that I have plenty of it. I like unique items, like the female nutcracker my father stumbled upon during a diplomatic venture, or the elaborate honey-comb candle he gave me last year.

"And now for our gifts," King Obediah announces. A servant sets another package in my arms, and I peel back the shimmery paper.

I grin, a buzz of joy lifting my spirits. Marbled light glows from a square geode box. White, pastel purple, and varying shades of blue streak the sides. When I lift the lid, I find a small lock and key resting on the velvet interior.

"It's a keepsake box," Benno tells me.

"It's absolutely stunning," I say. "Thank you!"

Uncle Rothbart and Clemaina also present their gifts to us. I already know what my uncle's is, another charm for my charm bracelet. This one is a dancer from the Starlands. We visited a few months ago and saw a stunning ballet presented by the kingdom's foremost performers. It's the perfect keepsake. Clemaina gives me a pink scarf that is too loud to be practical. I thank her politely anyway.

While the servants collect the shreds of paper and demolished boxes, it occurs to me that only Sigvard and I lack gifts for the others. Well, Sewale too, if counting him. My brother and I lock eyes, chagrin etched on his face. At least we have tomorrow to find something.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ｡･ ───

I stand in the center of high walls that slope into a conical ceiling. The colorful spines of millions of books spiral to the top. Many defy gravity, sitting on shelves that angle toward the floor. A ladder rests against one wall, pressed vertical against the lines of manuscripts, though it barely reaches a third of the way up. Such a waste. It's a room full of knowledge, stories, and experiences, yet less than half is reachable.

Wood creaks, stops, then continues in a quiet drone. The ladder falls first, thudding on the carpet. Then, books rain from above like huge pigmented snowflakes. They ricochet off my body, flood the floor so I can't leave. Hard covers compress my skin, spines bent back and pages splayed apart. My ankles disappear first, then my legs, my waist, my arms and neck—buried in words I never read, knowledge I never sought, answers I'll never know. I look up just as the last novel crashes on my face.

I jolt awake. Darkness engulfs my room, except for moonbeams streaming through the curtains drawn across my window. Air saturates my lungs with each deep breath I inhale, and my pulse slows. It was only a dream.

I roll onto my side, curled toward the glass table by my curtains. My eyes follow a stream of light that illuminates the charcoal box I just got. It sits atop my new scarf, which looks like it's about to slide to the ground. I feel an urge to move it to my other jewelry boxes that line the back of the table. Hadn't I put it there earlier?

Exhaustion sweeps through me, and I wiggle into the soft mattress on my bed. My eyelids close. The last thing I see are my curtains, gently shifting in the night.