Embers and Ash

1 | Arranging a Marriage

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CHAPTER 1

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-ˋˏ [ Arranging a Wedding ] ˎˊ

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Universe of Emmarine 1

Day 18, Month Gavia, Year 100 of the Hisk Aeon

Night

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As the day slowly drew to a close in the majestic kingdom of Xymyria, the sun cast its final rays across the vast sky, painting it with a warm and inviting golden hue. The bustling city below gradually began to settle as the palace's grand belfries, standing tall and proud above the city skyline, began churning their delightful melodies. The sounds echoed throughout the kingdom, signaling the arrival of a peaceful and tranquil night filled with the sweet serenity that only came with the end of a long and busy day in farming fields.

The youthful princess was sitting in front of a splendid, rectangular mirror, basking in the ringing bells in her ears. Her reflection seemed to be swaying along with the cadence of the belfries, which were situated in an arcade on the third floor, directly above her quarters. The chimes carried on for a few moments, serving as a clear indication that it was nighttime and all was still.

This meant Lior was late for the masquerade ball, which meant her mother would scold her for not picking simpler garments and decorations. But it wasn't as if she had a choice. Her lady-in-waiting, Maid Tinsley, had insisted on helping the eighteen-year-old lady get dressed for what would be a night to remember.

With practiced fingers, Maid Tinsley wove Lior's hair strands into three distinct layers of braids, each wider and thicker than the one above. As this was being done, Lior heard the distant sound of her mother's voice reverberating throughout the palace, which echoed with a symphony of clicking inside and an aria of cicadas serenading the night outside.

It all meshed with the incoming scent of thyme—spicy, aromatic, and leathery—flowing to her nostrils as she inhaled a breath of oxygen. Then swirling through her senses, she could imagine indulging in an olive or two from the olive tree in the courtyard. Rich in flavor, the juice poured through her veins. And her brain begged for the fantasy to continue. Just one more, she told herself until ...

"Lior!"

Perfectly still. That was how Lior remained in response to her mother's voice rattling down the corridors from the piano nobile. She took in every ounce of her reflection, which gleamed in gold decorations and dusty reddish-orange material of mesh, net, and tulle fabric along with foliate and floral decals on the top from gold to red and purple and green, and the velvet belt that hugged the space below her breasts. Her tan skin was darker than usual. Maybe it was the capped sleeves or the skirt fanning out in waves to create an a-line silhouette that made her appear darker than usual, she considered for a moment. Of course not. It was the whole gown.

Despite any efforts she might've made, such as wearing an ornate mask and engaging in dances with many potential suitors from various social classes, the outcome would remain essentially unchanged. In the land of Xymyria, women were bereft of agency over their lives. Their fates were predetermined and outside their control from birth to maturity, marriage and child-rearing, and ultimately death.