A piercing scream broke the stillness of the night. Semira writhed in agony, sheets bunched underneath her as the searing pain lanced through her left ankle trailing up to her hips. The putrid scent of burning flesh grew nauseatingly thick. Gasping, she shot up as a vision of flames, raging and malicious, flashed before her. Sobs wracked her pale frame, warm fluid trickling down her thighs wetting her shift and soaking the sheets. Excruciating pain speared her temples and she shrank into the bed her hands clutching the sweat soaked strands by her temples and her body curled up, rocking, hoping, waiting for the torment to pass.

Semira didn't know if seconds, minutes or hours passed as she lay still, sweat and urine soaked sheets wrapped around her waist. Her eyes squinted at the glinting window panes, moonlight caught in the glass illuminating the chamber.

The shift stuck to her skin as she climbed out of bed, a dull ache replacing the searing pain as she padded to the window. The gentle touch of a cool breeze provided temporary relief, ruffling the curtains and lifting the wispy blondes plastered on her forehead. Divesting herself of the shift she stood by the window, letting the breeze kiss her glistening skin.

Semira awoke to cold marble and the brisk pitter-patter of the servants in her chamber. Water sloshed into the bathtub. The odour of stale urine and sweat assaulted her making her retch; the open windows did nothing to dispel it. She shivered, goosebumps erupting along her naked form.

"You should tell this to the high priestess, my lady," Jane, her nursemaid said as she yanked the crumpled sheets from the bed, putting them into the basket balanced at her heavy waist.

"High Priestess doesn't need to know," Semira rasped, rising from the marbled floor. She limped towards the bathtub.

"But your mother does."

"She is not my mother," climbing onto the tub, she sank into the warm embrace of the steamy water, eyes closing, " not since the day I left her womb." The warmth soaked into her skin, turning last night's vision into a soggy illusion and yet the dread remained, gnawing at her mind. Gentle but determined fingers probed at her shoulders, knots unfurling at the maid's expert ministrations.

"The visions, what do you see?" Semira avoided Jane's piercing gaze, fixing her eyes to the ragged, tear-stained reflection on the mirror.

"Fire, Jane. I see fire." Semira reached for a tumbler of water, the cool liquid a blessed relief against her sore throat.

"I still think you should tell her. The gods don't send the sight for nothing, not repeatedly."

"Maybe."

"Promise me you will."

"I will," She promised, immersing herself completely in the water one last time before the maid unplugged the tub, draining the tub to refill it with freshly heated water.

Semira's hands ached from gripping the sides too hard. The heated water now reminded her of the flames and the shame of enuresis. The sight made no sense; it served as a cursed gift. The future was ever changing, never certain. Seers were usually scorned, unwanted-rarely welcomed. As she was, by her own blood.

Telling the high priestess about the visions would only lead to Semira being mocked by her family. After All, visions hardly ever manifested.

The scent of orchids cleared her thoughts and Semira leaned back, closing her eyes and her mind while the maid scrubbed her clean.

Dressed and scented like a wreath of wildflowers, Semira made her way to the East wing of the palace. The morning rays reflected off the white marble arches; the luminescent glow making the corridor look like the pathway to paradise. The palace of Vertholth boasted of unmatched beauty and splendour, true to the merchant blood running in the veins of its King the kingdom thrived on trade.

Dense line of guards stationed along the corridors joining the great hall halted her steps. A sharp voice echoed, followed by clicking of heels. She had found the person she was looking for.

______________________

The royal fingertips flickered with uncertain flames reflecting the rage burning gold in the eyes of Alana Alarcón, twin to the ones fixed condescendingly at her.

"I'm not a cargo to be bartered," she said, calmly- way too calmly.

"You are the Crown Princess," The Queen stated. The diamonds in her crown sparkling as she leaned forward. "It is your duty, if need be, to be bartered for the sake of your kingdom. You will select a suitor and you will secure the throne with a strong consort, preferably fae."

"What if I don't?" Alana asked, chin lifted in defiance. She strode to the dias, refusing to back down from her glare. "My duty is to lead and protect my subjects not to tie myself to some conceited man."

"Enough," Queen Valeria snapped; her sharp voice echoing against the walls as she rose from the ivory gilded throne. "You will do as your father and I decree. It's your duty as a member of the royal family and we will hear nothing more of it. We expect your final decision to be made by the Feast of the Blessed Moon."

The Queen's heels clicked on the floor and Alana averted her gaze from her mother's descending form, palms seeking comfort in the silk folds of her skirt. She winced as rings dug into her cheeks, dragging back her averted gaze to the hard lined face in front of her.

"Pay heed daughter mine, for your days of idle foolery have to come to an end,"

Alana's chin in acknowledgement. The harsh fingers, now soft, smoothed the inky strands over her ears, almost lovingly.

"Ah, now that everything is clear, I'll send the seamstress to fit you for your gowns. The nobility from the rest of Omria will be arriving in a week. We can't be looking shabby, can we?"

"No, we can't, Your Majesty." Lips stretched into a practiced smile, Alana curtsied, peering from beneath the lashes to see the jewel studded gown sweeping the floor as her mother exited the great hall. 

The force of what lay ahead hit her square on the chest. She pressed the heel of her palm against her chest as her heart rushed into a sprint, chest heaving as she tried to draw air into her constricted lungs. A soft touch on her shoulder brought her back. She leaned into the touch, the scent of wildflowers enveloping her as Semira embraced her. She looped her arms with her friend's, comfort seeping into her spirit. "The nobility from the other kingdoms will be arriving for the Feast of the Blessed Moon and I am to choose a consort from amongst them, preferably fae," Alana said as they walked out of the great hall heading towards the palace gardens, "My obligations to the crown call. I cannot and will not withdraw from it. Although, it does intimidate me."

Alana sighed, the gentle squeeze of reassurance from Semira bringing her comfort, "At the least we will have pretty dresses and honey cakes for the feast."

"Honey cakes do make anything bearable," Semira quipped.

"Even conceited men?"

"Hopefully"

Alana sucked in a breath, palms fisting the fabric draped on her as the strings of the corset tightened, envying Semira lazily draped over the settee while she stood on the pedestal being pricked and prodded with pins. A sharp rap on her fingers made her release the fabric from her clutches.

"Forgive me, your highness," the royal seamstress knelt at her feet, eyes cast down, the picture of perfect remorse.

"Rise," Aalana murmured, not believing for a second that the rap on her hand was a mistake. Not when it was seasilk that she was crushing beneath her palms. The fabric shone in the sunlight filtering in from the windows, transforming into molten gold. Prized secret of her kingdom, Vertholth thrived on its trade. What better fabric to be draped in?

Alana stepped down from the pedestal and slumped into the settee.

"I want gowns to be commissioned for Lady Semira as well," she grinned at her friend's horrified face. While the seamstress was gifted she was also infamous for being brutal with pins.

"Err.. I am grateful for your generosity, your highness but I cannot accept it" she said, eyes flitting to the pins stacked on the pin cushion.

"Nonsense," Alana dismissed with a wave of her hand, "l will have none of it."

For the next hour Alana relaxed on the settee while Semira shot daggers at her. Occasionally hissing if the pins pricked in too deep.

_____________________

The temple courtyard was golden with the afternoon sun, few acolytes dressed in blue robes tended to the flowers framing the magnificent stone altar. They dipped their chins in acknowledgement, offering pretty smiles as she walked past them. She beckoned one of them, finding her mother would be a chore and the time was of essence. She needed to talk to the high priestess about her visions. Semira gently rubbed at the sore spots by her waist. The sting made worse by the fabric of her dress rubbing against as she moved and the dread that filled her chest. 

"Where may I find the High Priestess?" Semira asked.

"The High Priestess is in her study, my lady." The acolyte answered, pausing for a second or two before asking, "May I announce you to Her Eminence, my lady?"

"I will see myself in. Thank you," with a nod Semira made her way towards her mother's study.

Semira's face was sturdy as she faced the carved oak door that led to the study. Her mind ran all kinds of scenarios regarding this meeting, most of them not pleasant. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to calm her nerves she caught hold off the iron door knocker and rammed it against the polished wood.

"Come in," The husky voice allowed her, and she swung the door open.

Semira had imagined all kinds of unpleasant scenarios but what lay in front of her was worse.

"Good Afternoon, Your Eminence," She dipped her chin, pushing down the rising dread that gripped her chest.

"I didn't know you were here, Delmanah." Semira continued with a tilt of her head.

Sitting on the velvet plushed chair, arranging her whimsical skirt around herself and looking like a perfect vision was her cousin. Perfect, diligent, obedient Delmanah.

"I am always here, Semira. My future prospects require my presence here, with the High Priestess." Delmanah's voice was smug, leaning into the cushioned chair and flashing a bright smile she continued, "Training to be the next High Priestess is hard enough. I need to be close to Her Eminence so I can learn from her magnificence."

Controlling her inane desire to roll her eyes at the blatant flattery Semira flashed a pretty smile at Delmanah," I need to discuss something very important with my mother. Alone."

Talking with her mother about the visions was hard enough, Delmanah's presence would only make it worse. Semira didn't have the strength to face her sugar coated smiles and snide comments, not today.

"Delmanah will stay, whatever that you have to say can be said in her presence." The husky voice of the women seated behind the grand desk said.

Semira stared at her in disbelief. Of course, what did she even expect? She looked into her mother's face, the face that had suitors falling over at her feet in her prime. Age had done nothing to mar her beauty but with beauty and power came arrogance. The High Priestess had that in abundance. Arguing with the High Priestess would be a waste of time, so with a sigh Semira began.

"So, is that it? You see visions of fire?" Delmanah asked, once Semira finished accounting her nightmares. The mocking tone rang all through her words as Delmanah taunted, " Everyone knows that visions mean nothing."

Paying no need to the taunt Semira implored her mother, "I feel the visions, not just see them. The heat, the pain, the stench, everything! I know it is a sign for something and I want you to take it seriously. For once, please."

"The visions are nothing but-" Delmanah's words ceased with the wave of an elegant hand.

"The spirits will determine if what you say holds any truth. This should not be any of your childish attempts to garner my attention, Semira." The chair squeaked as it dragged against the floor. Mirela, the High Priestess sashayed to her daughter.

Semira squirmed under her mother's probing gaze, "I was a child! What does a girl of 10 summers do when her mother seems to forget her existence?"

"Your childish quest for my attention gave my rivals the perfect opportunity to humiliate me, the high priestess! Listen carefully Semira, I will not be laughed at again." The High Priestess snapped.

The scorn in her voice hit Semira, gripping her heart in a tight fist and crushing it. Looking up at the ceiling to keep her tears from rolling down her cheeks Semira chuckled,

"If you had paid attention to your only daughter, maybe she wouldn't have to go to those lengths."

"I provided you with everything! What more could you have wanted?"

"Love?" Semira asked, her voice barely a whisper. She stood there with a lump in her throat, eyes filled with tears and fists clenched to her sides. She needed to get as far as way from her mother. Clearing her throat, "If you would allow me, I would like to leave. Her Royal Highness requires my presence." Semira said, dipping her chin.

"Semira," her mother called out to her as she was leaving, "Do not tell anyone about your visions until I convene with the spirits, I don't want to be humiliated, again."

___________________________________________

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hello readers!
Thank you for reading my story and joining my characters in their journey.
I'm so happy to finally update a story of my own on Wattpad.
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New chapters will be updated every Monday
Ciao!