The Winter Sun

Chapter 9

"How do I look?" Rid pivoted on himself. He donned a knee-length, loose-fitting, beige tunic. It was similar to the tunic they wore before, albeit without the stains. They wore their own boots and cinching belt.

"The same," Lach responded curtly, and Rid's enthusiasm fell to the ground. "Come on. This our chance!" Rid gripped a shoulder, shaking him softly, certainly hoping to get rid of his sour mood.

But Lach couldn't help it. Being here with these people was like a knife scraping his skin. "Our chance for what?" He spat at last.

"For a better life." A serious tone had settled in the atmosphere. He understood. Really, he did. Rid had always hoped for more than this life at the stable. He was gripped with that soaring ideal that something better would await them. Lach couldn't blame him, for he had that light inside that would flicker at the same ideal but was too often blown by the hard punch of reality, and tonight was no exception. Being in the same room as a noble wouldn't make you a noble. That was what Lach tried to drill into his mind.

Lach shook himself away from his grip. "Serving those people? This is what you call a better life?" Rid would see an opportunity to be equal, while Lach was reminded of their inequality.

Rid's pursed his lips. "You can't stay in that stables if you want to get ahead."

A knot in Lach's throat kept tightening at the thought. "I would rather have my tongue cut." He knew what people with titles or money could do. He had seen it firsthand ten years ago.

Rid crossed his arms. "You are being dramatic.

A dull gaze. "You are being delusional."

Rid sighed before his signature grin overpowered Lach's ability to spoil the mood. "Like it or not, by the end of this night, our purse will be heavier than ever." And that's probably while Lach was donning the same tunic at that moment. "You might even see that girl and finally get her name."

Lach frowned. "I don't believe she would attend the ceremony. She said to be a chambermaid." Well, that was what he understood from their conversation.

Before Rid could try to lift Lach's mood, the stablemaster cut their conversation short. " Stablemen!" Both men stood up straight. He was accompanied by a tall, lanky man with deep wrinkles. He wore a brown velvet jacket with a matching headdress in a cone shape and an austere air that paled the gloomy grey of the castled stone. "This is the Steward of the castle. Lord Clemence."

The Lord stepped in, and his austere air spread like a mist. A close set of marble grey eyes pierced through the stablemen. "As you know, tonight is the Princess' ceremony. This ball will determine the future of Ornuv. Our future. Your future and the one of your family." Lach repressed the envy to shrink his nose. He settled for a tight jaw. "I count on you to represent Ornuv in the best light. Or..." He narrowed his eyes. "You might forget your coins."

They both nodded tightly before the Steward led them through a parade of long hallways to the ceremonial room. The walk was so long it seemed like he went through a whole city.

Upon entering, Lach's eyes were struck by beauty, elegance, and above all, abundance. The walls were painted a bold violet, symbolizing Ornuv's colors. Massive pearly chandeliers hung from the soaring high ceilings carved with intricate gold designs so meticulously that Lach could believe the Sun God itself had modeled it with his own hands. Large paintings retracing the royal family history hung on every wall next to Ornuv's emblematic coat of arms: A yellow sun posing over two crossed swords.

Lach's mouth hung. His eyes stung from the shiny gold on every piece of art, wall, or structure. "Oh, Sun God..." Rid trailed off, eyes sparkling. "Is it even real?" he breathed, turning around, pulled in by every corner. He didn't know where to look or go, and Lach felt the same. His eyes finally posed on a portrait. It was of the current King with the late Queen. Lach's eyes narrowed as he observed the little girl sitting graciously between them. Large doe eyes on a heart-shaped face. Lach stepped closer, head tilting to the side, immersed in a feeling of deja-vu. Flowers, sunny days, and chuckles flashed his mind in a haze, but before he could dive into his mind long enough to wipe that fogginess away, the Steward commanded them in line with the other servants.