ARIELLE
I escape the revelry, the press of bodies, the unsettling weight of those blue eyes, and seek refuge in an upper chamber not far from the ballroom. Here, high above Khavena, the air grows cold against my skin, carrying the distant rhythm of the sea. From up here I can see the edge of the enchanted forest. I remember stories about that forbidden place.
I tug at the hem of my dress, the silk suddenly feeling like a cage. The candlelight flickers, casting dancing shadows on the wall, but they can't chase away the chill that has settled deep inside me. Chosen. The word feels like a shackle, binding me to a fate I don't understand. Freedom, always a given on our island, suddenly feels like a distant dream. I can hear the drums from down below. They remind me that Mother is going to force me to go back down there to the ballroom.
"You're going to miss this, aren't you?" Mother asks, her voice softer now, almost wistful. She comes up next to me.
"With the Prince, then?" I ask, my fingers twisting the fabric of my dress. The knot in my stomach tightens with each passing moment. Is this a choice?
Mother's silence confirms my fear. "Yes".
"But...why?" The question hangs in the air, fragile and pleading. What have I done to deserve this? How can I be chosen for something I don't even want?
"He has chosen you as his wife."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "A wife? What does that even mean?" On our island, women choose their own paths. Why can't I stay with my family, with the only life I've ever known?
"It is your duty".
"But what about Lyra? She has no man to care for. She is not married, therefore she is a nobody." The words tumble out, desperate for a lifeline.
"There are exceptions, but you are not one of them".
"Why can't I be the exception?" I say and I start crying now.
"Hennessia, do not do this to me".
"But where will this... man take me?" I stumble over the word. I think of the enchanted forest. Maybe I can runaway there.
"Home. Your destiny, Hennessia, is to be with Caith Saint Callum."
"How can you be so sure?" The entire situation feels preposterous, a twisted dream.
"I saw it. If you go, we will have safety forever".
"But I know nothing about men," I protest, my voice rising in panic. How can I be expected to embark on this...adventure, when I am utterly ignorant?
"You'll learn," Mother says, dismissing my concerns with a wave of her hand. "It will be amazing when you do."
"Amazing how?" I mutter under my breath.
She sighs, the sound of waning patience. "Just...try to keep an open mind, Hennessia. You will go in his ship".
Just then, Azriel bursts into the room, her face flushed with urgency. "Mother, I need you downstairs! The whispers are getting louder, and I fear the Morrighai are on the verge of open rebellion!"
"Okay. Here I come." Mother casts a final, fleeting glance in my direction, her expression unreadable. She sweeps out of the room with Azriel, leaving me alone with my impending doom...or, perhaps, if I am to believe Mother, my destiny. The distant music from the ballroom seems to mock me. In this moment, it is all I can do to take one last look before Mother forced me down there. I wonder what the color of the ship would be.
We return to the ballroom, and I must confess, I am less than thrilled. The room is in much the same state of chaotic exuberance as before, although there are now a few more Morrighai who seem to have shed a rather alarming amount of clothing, and the interactions with the 'men' are becoming increasingly... tactile. I try not to think about what Mother expects of me tonight.
The announcer booms something about the next dance being a waltz, and I realize, with a fresh wave of panic, that I have absolutely no idea what I am supposed to do. My "partner" is, at this point, a mere figment of my overactive imagination, and I wonder if I can fade into the shadows. The crowd begins to clear the dance floor, the ladies and the 'men' forming separate lines across from one another.
I stand there, feeling utterly exposed and rather foolish. The 'men' step forward, and the ladies respond with a graceful bow. I remain rooted to the spot, painfully aware of my partnerless state. The 'men' take the ladies' hands, drawing them closer than I have ever comprehended, and then they begin to move, executing the steps of the waltz with a practiced ease. I am still standing awkwardly, caught somewhere between the two lines. I catch the Prince's eye for a moment, and he smiles at me. That smile sends shivers down my spine.
Suddenly, someone grabs my hand, hauling me unceremoniously to the left. I gasp, and turn to see Marcus, Caith's brother, his dark eyes glinting in the candlelight.