Princess of Asroph: Journey to Davelher Cliffs

~TWO~ Raveus the Sorcerer

Blinding sun rays stretched into the castle library, glistening across the pages of Arabella's book. The princess lay down on her little reading nook beneath the window and soaked in the light. For a moment, she fancied herself a lazy cat, stretching and yawning, basking in the sunlight for a nap. Or perhaps she felt like one of those reptiles she read about, relying on the searing heat for survival in the desert. No matter how she envisioned herself, all she could focus on was the reality that she was growing uncomfortably hot lying there.

Arabella clapped her book shut and rose, stretching languidly before standing. She'd been resting for so long that she nearly forgot how to manage her feet.

The young princess padded through the castle corridors. When she looked down, she almost saw herself gaping back through the polished floor. Alas, the girl in the reflection was just as jaded and lonely as her. She wondered how joyous it feels to stoop down and talk to herself and hear what the other Arabella had to say back. They would make great friends. After all, they were the same. They'd share the same book interests and their love for the outdoors. Three years ago, she had a friend that resembled her, just like her dream friend.

When he became king, however, the friendship evaporated like water.

"Good afternoon, Your Highness." A voice bounced off the walls.

Arabella twirled around, her book pressed against her chest. Favian emerged from behind a wall, smiling warmly at the princess. He wore his black robe with gold sleeves, the fabric trailing behind him.

"Good afternoon, Favian," she returned sweetly.

Favian sped up to the princess, joining her in her aimless stroll. "Delightful day."

"It is."

"Almost makes you overlook what tomorrow embodies."

Arabella slackened, recollecting the day she became a princess and lost her father in one nighttime. It was almost the third anniversary. Even on a beautiful day she could never forget. The days endlessly counted in her head. It had been precisely one-thousand-ninety-four days without her father. Tomorrow was expected to be a grim day for Asroph. The market will be closed, windows shut, heads hung like ragdolls.

"Not I," the princess finally spoke.

"Nor I," Favian said with a wink.

Arabella smiled at him, taking his arm in her own as they walked.

"If only we could host some sort of commemoration to signify our victory instead of mourning for the fallen." Favian sighed.

"Well, why not?" Arabella asked.

Favian flashed her a wince. "I'd rather not take it up with the king."

"You are his advisor." Arabella chuckled.

"You know your brother," Favian said, waving a hand. "Too distracted with his work."

Arabella looked at the ground. She envisioned a party across the floor she walked on—waltzing figures twirling elegantly, polite chatter echoing through the halls, the clinking of glasses of wine. What a rare occasion it would be to celebrate instead of weep for a change. The thought was so ridiculous that she adored it.

"I could speak with him," Arabella offered.

"Conserve your breath, Your Highness. I get nowhere with him."

"He will heed to me," Arabella persisted, now gripping Favian's arm without notice. She craved the thought of a party so badly, her body was tremoring. Even as a child, she could convince Leofric into anything.