Vicious Eyes and Malicious White Lies

Chapter I

VANESSA

There were times, not many, where I wished the crown had skipped me and passed to my brother. I could have enjoyed all the benefits of royalty while shrugging all responsibilities of a heavy crown.

The rose-pink curtains fluttered in the wind that blew in from the open windows. Sunlight streamed in through the glass and glistened on the rose-gold walls of my bedchambers.

I peered at my reflection in the mirror. The rose-gold crown sank into my sun-touched hair and whispered soft complements to my pale skin and green eyes. My eyes narrowed at the sight of the crown and my face scrunched up like a piece of parchment balled in someone's palm. The golden crown felt more weighty by the hour.

"You're brooding, Vanessa." Westin said through a sigh. The faintest hint of annoyance laced his tone. He was the spitting image of me: eyes like dark emeralds, long curly hair that boasted a lovely shade of dark blond. But our most striking similarity was our excessive love for theatrics. Executions hosted by either of us always attracted the biggest crowds.

"You'd be brooding too, had this crown fell on your head and spared mine." I shot, giving him a look.

Westin laughed. "I barely escaped that burden. We were born at the same hour, but the Shrine decided you a better fit for sovereignty. They said I had "demons" in me, damn Druids." A small laugh escaped Westin's mouth. 

"Well, lucky you!" I snarled at my brother, my lips curled up in resentment to reveal gritted teeth. "I cannot wait for the day when I can retire this crown to Will. I just want to be rid of it." I breathed in and then let out a depressing exhale. "Although it breaks my heart to have to pass this burden to my children."

Westin gave me a sympathetic frown. "Come to your senses, Nessa! You have so much to thank your crown for. It isn't all that bad." He walked to the window and leaned on the frame, peering out over the city of Carleone. "The Sovereign of Soren is the richest and most powerful person in all of Bellayden. Your throne is not a jagged one, it's quite cosy."

I marched towards my brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. I could feel the cool breeze from the window caressing my stone-cold face. "There is rebellion in the south." I hissed. Rage trembled my voice. "I am not able to focus on the amenities of my crown when armies are clawing at my throne."

My eyes found Westin's. They were calming seas. "Let them claw." He gave me an encouraging smile that cut like a knife. "Because they can't reach. And while they're arms are outstretched, we can cut off their hands. We are Revelians, we've held our throne for thousands of years. What's a few more?"

When Westin spoke of our great house, his eyes burned with fiery pride. He often spoke about how we were descendants of House Thaelarius; how the old magic runs strong in our veins. Those words didn't stir well with me. Magic was always a vocation of Westin. I could only get simple spells to work. I never had the desire to try to aim for the more advanced ones.

"It's not that simple this time around," I moaned. The sound of despair sang in bitter harmony with my voice. "Lord Michaelis was my Blademaster. Now he is rotting in Hastwick dungeons. And House Marteen has raised banners with the Hastwicks."

By the wide-eyed look my brother gave me, I could tell the last piece of news troubled him as it had me.

"What?" His voice was a faint murmur. It was almost unhearable over the already-quiet breeze outside. His eyelids pulled back and his lip twitched.

If he didn't know before, he was certainly scared now. House Marteen had armies so big that they spilled out of most cities like an overflowing wine glass. But that wasn't what troubled me the most. What troubled me was a rumour that has been spreading through the Golden Palace like blazing flames through a birch forest. Even my Spymaster was unable to say for certain the validity of these whispers. Perhaps, I thought. Perhaps my Spellmaster would be able to give me better council on the matter. And at that moment, I felt it a good time to ask. But I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer. I took in a deep breath and I felt myself trembling like a leaf. The cool gusts from the window felt like they could blow me away. My legs felt weak.