The Winter Sun

Chapter 10

The party throbbed behind the height-ceiling doors, a jabbering mix of chatter, laughter, and music sending Amaya's mind into dizziness. She stood before the carved oak, wondering how long it would take for the two guards standing at each side of the door to catch her if she was to run down the hallway. Not too long, she supposed. Her stamina wasn't in so much great shape since her Father decided to keep her inside the castle, her only workout being waltz lessons.

She fought the urge away with a steady breath. With the way her corset constricted her lungs and all her other organs, she wouldn't have the endurance to do so in any case.

She found solace in the coldness of her pendant inside her palm, and her heartbeat slowed down. Still, her crown was a heavy reminder of what was to come. As soon as she was to pass those doors, her entire life would flee from her hands, slipping between her fingers and gathering in the palm of an unknown man. But did she ever was the one keeping it in her hands? No. Her Father, the institution, the crown had decided every movement since the moment she saw the light.

The realization stung her eyes. She closed them as she inhaled deeply, trying to gather every piece of herself, wanting to run away.

Two knocks resonated from the other sides of the doors, and her heart went into a frenzy again. The jabbering died down as a clear and concise male voice rose. Her name was mentioned, and she straightened her back.

That was it.

The two guards grabbed the handle on each side of the door, and she molded her face into an impassive mask.

Hinges creaked, and light poured onto her, scintillating the gold of her eyeshadow, dress, jewelry, and crown. A bright halo surrounded her, reminding of a divinity.

A collective gasp echoed from the crowd as thousands of eyes gawked at her. She froze, taking in the mass. She had counted the carriages but never visualized that many people.

The man with the staff eyed her, and it was her cue to trace the carmine carpet, her steps carrying her like a feather in a dancing breeze, graceful and light as she had learned since she was a little girl.

Their eyes scrutinized, dissected every of her movement in deafening silence, and weirdly, they roared louder than the boisterous chatter a moment ago. An offered lamb to sharp canines. That was what she was at that moment. She didn't let them deter her and kept a slow, poised, and calculated cadence as she passed between the split crowd. Her outward calmness opposed the raging storm of her hammering heart.

Whispers bounced from every side, and she kept her lips tight.

The council members welcomed her with tight, overstretched smiles, which didn't help to calm her nerves. Still, Commander Zakrus was another story. His scars were more prominent over his tight features as a pointy stare bore into her. Even in the crowd of a thousand, he didn't fail to make her feel unguarded. She quickly looked away.

Salvation was offered when she reached the end of the carpet. The gold throne carved with the sweat of the ancient rulers for centuries loomed over her like the destiny she couldn't escape.

The lingering whispers fall back as the King rose from the throne, his imposing figure towering over the guests. Though he was all toughness and command, his deep gaze was warm and benevolent at the sight of his daughter. She climbed the few steps separating them and bowed graciously in front of the ruler, the hem of her gown gathering together on the carpeted floor. He nodded, and she stood beside him, facing the scrutinizing orbs.

"Dear guests." The King's voice grave voice resonated across the room, stringing the eyes on him. "I welcome you all in Ornuv to celebrate Princess Amaya of Ornuv's passage to adulthood." His gaze panned over the room.