I peered down at a lone silhouette on the grounds. They moved swiftly, shadowed like a ninja. This was odd because all public visits were banned at night for security.
Sometimes officials still stopped by in the late hours, Spain favoring a greatly late-night schedule, but this figure was young, maybe a boy my age.
I could not tell, and curiosity pulled me closer. I often felt like a princess locked in a golden cage, yet I had learned my own ways of escaping. It was difficult but, as cliché as it sounded, I could climb down by bouncing off the balcony onto another ledge.
They say strict parents make good liars. In my case abusive parents made a good athlete.
I did exactly that. "Ouch," I muttered as I stubbed my toe on the bricks. The bricks were dry and crumbled, scraping my palms. I wasn't perfect. I had spent too much time worrying to get into mischief regularly during my teen years.
I walked a little, not seeing anyone. Maybe someone had brought a noble child and left.
A small noise made me start. I drew my dagger and held it close to my side the way I was trained. Most often it would be nothing. Security was tight. One could never be too cautious.
I followed the sound and made out a short-haired figure. It was too dark to see much. Why weren't they using a phone light, I wondered, until I realized what was happening.
Another person stepped into view and they began kissing, shameless and loud. I wrinkled my nose. Never could be me.
My curiosity only briefly lingered as they chuckled together in their embrace. I wondered what that would be like.
My excitement faded. I had been hoping for something clandestine and unique, instead I was watching people sneak onto my grounds for a secret tryst.
This was common in our circles. We all knew things we refused to say. That was how society worked here, a don't ask don't tell kind of world.
Everyone kept loves and affairs hidden. That was life in a place that favored appearances over genuine care.
It wasn't all rotten. Like anything there was a mix. Some leaders truly cared, even those with poor reputations. There were many decent ones in my country and I took pride in that.
I turned to leave, dismissing the scene before I got a good look. I don't judge; society shaped us.
As I walked I bumped into someone else. I suddenly got nervous, fearing I had run into a security guard.
I coughed as our collars brushed. Their hand touched mine as we both tried to regain composure. I normally hated physical contact, yet perhaps due to my disability or something more, I didn't feel that disgust under my skin.
I looked up to see another teenager's frame. "What is this, a teen conference?" I asked, rubbing my temples. Why was everyone wandering my property like it was a school?
The person laughed. "Feisty, huh."
Who did they think they were speaking to so informally? I wasn't snobby. Friends could call me casually and I did not need a title, but this tone felt degrading.
"Teenagers always think they're so hot when they say those lines," I grumbled.
"I see your ice princess reputation is accurate," the person said. "So you really only like cute guys and the company of women." They leaned in.
I sighed. "If you know who I am, can you please move? I need to get back," I said, glancing for guards. It would be a ridiculous cliché if something happened tonight. My mean reputation at least kept people from using me too much.
Teenage boys my age were rowdy. Whether they were being immature boys or trying to impress friends, they'd hit on me or mess with me. They made R18 jokes when I was innocent, ogled my chest, or were just plain annoying.
I knew it wasn't all men, so I had a small group I trusted. The wider crowd was sexist and obnoxious, so I avoided them or was rough enough they'd leave me alone.
I kept walking, trying to leave the stranger behind. I didn't trust easily and everyone knew it. I fit my stereotype for my position. My sisters, however, were very different.
The manor's warm lamplight and glittering walls seemed to give me an ominous greeting. The place looked inviting in contrast to it's horrific dangers within.
Back in my room I knocked the secret code into the wall a few times. The knock answered and I slipped quietly to the room beside mine.
I tiptoed through the old manor. My parents had plenty of space to move, but my mother insisted we appear as a family and put all our rooms on the same floor and hallway.
My room sat directly across from my parents'.
I turned the unlocked knob and entered my older sister's room. "Some person was talking to me like I'm in a novel and called me feisty," I said.
She stayed quiet for a moment, not bothering to get up from her bed as she flipped the page nonchalantly, robotically. She ignored the reading tablet in favor of physical books, at least one trait we shared.
She looked at me without much expression. "Well, you are feisty." I pouted. "Yes, but not to the point someone I bumped into should be disrespectful." She put down her book. "Weren't you disrespectful first?" I dropped my head. "Yeah, I suppose I was." I had meant it light-heartedly; it perhaps hadn't come out that way.
"Now leave me be. You're annoying and I'm sleepy," she said.
We rarely argued; we were among the few siblings who didn't. Still, her monotone, uncaring way sometimes stung.
I turned to go. "Oh, but I heard we're getting a new guest staying for a while," my sister added as if that were the dullest news.
I nodded and closed the door. Guests came all the time. I returned to my room, practiced the handpan and hummed until sleep found its way to me. When I woke it was already 4:30 in the morning and I had to rush.
I meditated, journaled for five minutes, stretched and went to a gym for a quick workout. Huffing, I took an ice-cold shower, grabbed my skate bag and skipped breakfast as usual.
I waited until my mother gave the okay to go to skating. She supported sports as long as I brought home trophies.
She would not support them as a career or if I failed.
I laced my skates and headed to practice, one minute late. The cold smell of the rink hit my nose, crisp and familiar. Peace lasted only briefly, though.
My coach yelled the moment I stepped on the ice. "Do you think wasting my time does either of us any good? You are here to learn. Treat it seriously." I winced. "What are you waiting for? Go warm up!" she repeated angrily.
I disliked this coach. Of all of them she was the strict one. She was pregnant and people treated that as an excuse. She could not demonstrate moves.
I circled the rink, watching for her cue. I knew she would be angry if I went too long or stopped too soon.
When I was out of breath she told me to slow. "Do a triple lutz and then combine it with..." As I tried to follow she panicked that I was too close and worried I would kick her.
When I finally put distance between us I could no longer hear her.
I sighed and kept skating, unaware that someone had already fixed their possessive, emerald-green eyes on me. I felt a chill in the already cold rink, but that made my skin warmer in contrast. I had no idea what, or whom, was coming.