Chapter 1 Pinkberry Clouds
Verena
1 Week until Dryston’s Coronation
H ues of violet, indigo, and cyan fill the dark night sky, as they usually do in my dreams. The movable paint-like structure reminding me of my own indigo eyes as I stand on the balcony. I had only ever seen them far away, an almost microscopic flash of color for the briefest moment as the sun descended from the sky and the moon came out to play.
A hand grasps my shoulder to turn me and I gasp, noting the familiar faint black marking on the hand just before I jolt from my slumber to find myself alone— as I have been for the torturous decade of this haunting dream.
The bright ball of light filters in through the glass windows, allowing me to see the familiar room. The same bed I’ve had since I was a young girl rests on the concrete floor underneath me, a chaise lounge at the foot of the bed holding a dress I was to wear today. The light-stained, scuffed vanity rests just a few steps to the right of me, outside the doorway to the bathroom holding a toilet, tub, and sink. It wasn’t extravagant, but it’s nice.
My beloved fae kingdom, Zorya, thrives in the daytime. She is the beautiful country I will rule someday soon alongside the heir to the throne, Dryston Whitewell. His family has been ruling this country for centuries. The former king, Tarius Whitewell– Dryston’s father– was murdered a month ago. And after a grieving period for the land and castle, Dryston’s coronation will be held one week from now with our wedding and then my own coronation following shortly after.
Prince Dryston and I have been in a courtship since we were of age, but our history dates back to our childhood. We were betrothed as toddlers, and everyone has been eagerly anticipating this moment.
There is a soft knock on the door, and before I can give permission to enter, a maid appears in front of me. I do a double take, surprised by her sudden presence. “His Majesty has requested my services to prepare you for today’s celebrations.” She says in a meek and timid voice, resembling that of a mouse. Her gaze never meets mine as she speaks.
It’s common knowledge that kings often had mistresses, so it came as no surprise to me. Just as I was expected to become queen, he was anticipated to have a few affairs in his lifetime. And knowing Dryston’s reputation as a ladies’ man, I can tell by the way she avoids eye contact with me that he had already caught her attention.
“No problem, Mya.” She had become my ladysmaid a couple years ago after mine had passed away from a poison I assume was meant for me. As the maid busies herself with arranging my hair and adjusting my gown, I can’t shake off the unease settling in the pit of my stomach. The weight of expectations and obligations pressing down on me, threatening to suffocate the remnants of the carefree girl I once was.
I steal a glance at the maid, her hands deftly working on my elaborate hairstyle, and can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. She was just a pawn in this grand game of alliances and power, caught in the intricate web of court politics.
But as her fingers brush against my skin, a sudden chill ran down my spine, and I realize that there was more to her presence than she let on. Her eyes, though downcast, hold a glint of something not quite servile—a flicker of defiance that hints at hidden depths beneath her demure facade. Even while she helps me get ready for the day, dressing me in a bright yellow-green gown, to match our Aurora Australis, I can’t help the thoughts of the opposite.
* * *
The expectations for the upcoming events was palpable as whispers and excitement courses through the kingdom. In just a couple of days, the Royal Brunch will kick off the festivities in honor of Dryston’s rule. The grand dining hall had been meticulously prepared, decorated with lavish displays of flowers and draped in rich fabrics. Mouthwatering aromas waft from the kitchen as chefs bustle about, crafting a feast fit for royalty. Everyone could sense that this will be a celebration unlike any other, marking a new era for their kingdom.
The day before the Coronation, a grand celebration known as the Royal Gala will take place. This highly anticipated event promises to be a dazzling display of dancing, music, and elegance. It’s sure to be the talk of the century.
The following day marks the long-awaited Coronation, where our beloved prince will finally be crowned as ruler. And after that, there will also be a knighting ceremony where Dryston would carefully select his personal guards from among the bravest and most honorable knights in the realm. The air is thick with anticipation as everyone eagerly awaits these momentous occasions that will shape the future of the kingdom.
The day after will be our wedding and my coronation the day after that.
It will be a long ten days.
“Where are we with the decorations? Did you alert everyone of the colors I asked you to get?” I ask the young lady as we walk through the halls hastily. I eye the surrounding decor, noting the floral arrangements and banners.
She looks at me quickly before turning her face to the floor, her eyes wide. “Uhm, I- Dryston wanted-” My fingers wrap around her arm gently before stopping in our tracks, my eyes wide, grazing around the area to make sure we are alone.
“You will refer to your future king as His Majesty or Prince Dryston. You will not disrespect his title again, do you understand?” While the words are firm, my tone hushed yet urgent.
Even the slightest mention of his name sends a shiver down my spine, knowing if he heard her, he’d be filled with silent rage. I still bear the scars from the time he punished me for calling out to him by name, a reminder of his possessive nature. It seems that all he desires is for me to acknowledge him as the dominant one, to only speak of him with reverence until our marriage was official. Another shiver runs through me at the thought of being bound to this wild and unpredictable man for eternity.
She nods profusely, apologies added in too, before we continue our walk to the throne room.
The royal family was small but powerful, ruled by the mighty King Tarius and his beautiful queen, Rya. Rya, with her regal grace and sickly green eyes, had birthed two children — her firstborn son, strong and determined like his father, and her daughter Lianna, with her mother’s delicate features and fiery spirit. Together, they are the shining stars of the kingdom, their legacy destined to endure for generations to come. Although, mostly everyone is scared of Rya. She has a very demanding presence and her relationship with Dryston was excruciatingly nauseating.
Rya mourned her husband’s passing with little emotion. However, she took on the temporary responsibility of ruling the country until her eldest was officially crowned. Although the people of Dawn may not like her, the High Fae are well aware of her subtly cunning ways. The court members fear her, knowing she was not truly wicked but rather manipulative and self-centered, with strong greed and narcissistic tendencies.
As we made our entrance, Mya follows etiquette and stays behind me, allowing me to take the lead. My eyes scan the grand hall, taking in the regal figures sitting upon thrones adorned with jewels and gold. The prince sits confidently on his father’s throne, his posture exuding power and authority. His queen mother sits gracefully on her own throne beside him, her gaze shifting between her son and me. I curtsy before the prince, feeling a twinge of nervousness as his piercing chartreuse eyes study me intently. He then turns his attention to my companion, Mya, causing a subtle tension to form between them. Or perhaps it’s just my own insecurities that made it seem that way. Either way, there was an undeniable sense of unease in the air.
I am not the prettiest female in Zorya, let alone the entire continent, — as I’m constantly reminded of by the future king— but I found I quite like myself and how I look. I stand tall, my stained jet-black hair falling in smooth waves down my back. My bright indigo eyes sparkle with determination and a hint of mischief. The bridge of my nose was slender and delicate, matching the smallness of my ears with their subtle points at the tips. Years of secret training with my guard, Hadeon, had honed my body into a perfect balance of strength and grace. My muscles are lean but defined, hidden beneath the slimness of my frame. I take pride in my appearance, confident in my own beauty, though it seems that Dryston often finds fault with me.
I watch as he navigates the intricate political landscape alongside his mother, his features strikingly similar to hers. He possesses her golden locks of hair and light green eyes. As a member of the fae community, Dryston stands out as one of the tallest and most robust males on this side of the border. His broad shoulders and well-defined muscles spoke of his strength and stature within society.
During our childhood, we spent countless hours playing together. But my mother always had a wary eye on him, her face twists with disapproval. I never understood what it was that she saw in him, but her sudden death left it lingering on my mind. It wasn’t until my first punishment from him that I began to see the darkness that my mother saw. Where once he was carefree and easy-going, now there was a coldness in his eyes and a cruelty in his actions. Every time I did something that displeased him, a punishment would swiftly follow, leaving me trembling and fearful of what he might become.
Standing steadfast beside me, my guard dons his distinguished green royal armor. His dark chestnut hair cascades over his broad shoulders, framing his chiseled features and dark hazel eyes.
Hadeon is my trusted personal royal guard. He was hand-picked by Tarius to protect me when I was just twenty years old, after he saved my life from an attempted assassination. Hadeon had recently completed the rigorous training program for royal guards before being assigned to me, and I’ve been grateful for his presence ever since. Through our constant companionship, we have developed a strong friendship that extends beyond our duties.
Hadeon never spoke of my punishments, but sometimes when I look at him I can’t be sure he actually knows. He didn’t know us when we were younger.
He was a formidable figure, with a towering height and bulging muscles that Dryston had always resented in comparison to his own stature. Despite this, Hadeon remains unbothered by the prince’s jealousy, focusing solely on protecting and serving his charge with unwavering dedication and loyalty.
I thought it was humorous.
The prince’s voice cuts through the air like a sharp blade, silencing the entire room. I stand tall under his intense gaze, feeling the weight of his expectations bearing down on me. “Verena,” he addresses me with a cold tone, “how are the decorations coming? You know how crucial this coronation is.”
My heart races as I curtsy in front of him, trying to stay composed. “Everything is proceeding smoothly, Your Majesty,” I reply my eyes darting to Mya for support. But she remains silent, her lips pressing together in a tight line.
His eyes burn into mine with a look that can only be described as contempt. I know that he was overwhelmed and stressed, but that doesn’t make his stare any less unsettling. “Keep my mother and I updated on everything,” he commands before dismissing the court.
As we all disperse and go about our duties, I can’t shake off the unease that settles in my stomach at the prince’s harsh demeanor. This coronation is more than just important to him — it seems to be a matter of life and death for our kingdom. And I can’t help but fear what consequences will follow if anything goes wrong with the preparations.
* * *
Hadeon follows as he usually does while I carefully made my way to all the castle halls and rooms that guests will be staying in during the coronation, and the events leading up to it, to make sure the decorations are up as they should be. It was a lot of work but I know that he will be happy with it all. All the colors came in and the staff started on everything else.
At the end of the day, I was completely worn out. Hadeon slept across the hall from me and retires to his chambers as soon as I did mine.
I treat myself to a bath, adding the special scent. The soapmaster in the city makes it just for me, calling it Pinkberry Clouds.
After soaking for a moment, I ran some of the scented soap through my hair, washing away any sweat and dirt before washing my body too.
When the water went chilly, I deem it the end and stand up to dry off with a light pink fluffy rag the size of my body and made my way to the bed.
Sometimes, Dryston would visit me uninvited and I’d allow my mind to wander back to the colorful night sky of my dreams to block out his time in my bed and scrub myself raw of his scent after before curling into myself with tears streaming down my face. Sooner or later a new maid or towns person will catch his eye and he seems to be done with me.
Until he grows bored of her.
When it first started, I’d allowed it– welcomed it, even. He told me I should be happy to please him because he will be king and he wanted me comfortable before we have children together.
Now the thought makes me want to hurl.