Tainted | Maven Calore

Chapter 002.

        The sharp clinking of the silverware against the china brought her back from her state of being half-awake, and she looked up to see the King of Norta waving her over for a glass of water. She hurried over to his side as quickly as she could without tripping. With the help of the constant pounding of her headaches, she had made that mistake before, and her punishment was not one so easily forgotten. Fortunately, she made it over without any further accidents to add to her growing list of mishaps. As she poured the water into the goblet at his side, he struck up a conversation, addressing his eldest son, Tiberias VII.

        "Evangeline Samos," as he always began it, "seems worthy to be your queen. She will lend to this family her strength and power, ensuring that the generations to come would outdo the ones that came before them."

        "Of course, father," the First Prince would reply, ending the conversation, "strength and power." Strangely enough, it looked as if the Queen wouldn't let the conversation end there today.

        "There are many other suitable candidates for him." The queen said, shooting a sharp glare towards her husband, "It is possible that the other Houses would have ladies that would outshine Evangeline. We must wait for the Queenstrial to ensure our decision, before any of us becomes too attached to one candidate."

        It's no secret to anyone that the queen despised her husband. Marriages born from political reasons always seem to be that way. She puts on a show with her husband when everyone comes, but as soon as the curtains are drawn, she treats him as if he's the scum on her shoes. She doesn't like it when people oppose her, yet she grudgingly obeys the king because he wields a higher power over her. It would never be because she chose to.

        The king met her glare with even eyes, composure never wavering despite the venom swimming in the icy blue gaze he held. They seem to have held a silent conversation with each other, and moments later, they look away, the dispute seemingly solved for now. The table returned once more to a stiff silence, broken only by the silverware against the china.

        Soon, they would all leave the table. They always left alone, never together. The first one to stand was always the first prince, leaving to escape the questions fired at him by his parents, and the discussions of his future duties to the crown. The second one to leave was always the king, who always excused himself from the table murmuring something about the war. The third to leave was the queen, who had tens of thousands of Silver nobles to entertain and socialize with each day. But before she leaves, she would squeeze her son's shoulder affectionately, a whisper of "I love you" always accompanying it. Watching the exchange of affection, no matter how small or hushed it was, always brought a warmth to Adelaide's chest. It was nice to know that the queen still held some sort of semblance to being human.

        The Second Prince was always left alone at the table, the last to leave, the most easily forgotten. He was handsome, no doubt about it, with his blue eyes only being accentuated by his dark hair, but in being so, he felt untouchable. Untouchable, unreachable, unattainable, so near and yet so far out of her reach. Perfection always is.

        Still... he must feel lonely, right? He was always the last to leave, pushed aside, forgotten, always left alone with only the ramblings of his thoughts to keep him company. He was always left sitting there with a dejected look on his face, somberly eating the rest of his breakfast before standing up to leave. Sometimes, once the queen had left, she would let her imagination run wild and picture what it would be like to keep him company, even if it was just for a little while. One day, she'd gather up the courage to sit at the table and talk, ignoring all the surprised and disdainful stares her fellow servants would give her. She'd strike up a conversation with the prince, asking about his day, and anything she could dig up in her head. He'd show her a myriad of emotions instead of the stone cold countenance he had on for the most of the time.

        He coughed and motioned her over with a wave of his hand and a flicker of his blue eyes. Snapping out of her daydream, she flushed and hope he hadn't caught her staring. Nonetheless, she made her way over to him and poured the water into his cup, turning round to return to her place by the window when she was finished. While she walked, she felt his gaze searing a hole into her skin. It made her feel as if she had done something wrong and displeased one of the members of the Royal Family of Norta. So when he did nothing and said nothing, and instead stood from the table, she breathed a small sigh of relief. She was still safe.

        Unfortunately, she had felt safe too soon, for he turned away from the door and made his way towards her instead. She widened her eyes and made herself seem as small as possible. A lost cause, in her opinion, as she caught a glimpse of her red clothes against the pale wallpaper of the room, and saw his long strides closing even more distance between the two of them. Thankfully, he stopped a few feet away from her position. His blue eyes—a blue she doesn't think she's seen anywhere else—shone with curiosity as he asked, "What's your name?"

        She gaped at him, unable to comprehend that fact that he willingly spoke to her. A small part of her thought that someone up there had heard her wish, and granted it, but it was cruel of them to do so. She could never be able to talk back to him; she wasn't allowed to. But he really did look genuinely interested in what she had to say. But what if it was a test? Had she failed it already?

        Despite the minute of her unabashed staring and inner conflict, he still waited patiently for her answer, clearing his throat under her gaze. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she made her decision, stuttering out her name. "I-it's Adelaide, your highness. Adelaide Birchwood."

        He paused, furrowing a dark brow. Her schoolgirl crush made her giddy, lightheaded and lighthearted all at the same time, as he tested out her name, muttering it softly under his breath. He muttered it again, a little louder, and gave her a smile. For the third time he repeated her name, nodding in satisfaction. "Adelaide."

        The way her name rolled off his tongue almost made her swoon. He almost made it seem like he was singing her name, his voice lilting as he played with the vowels of her name. But she managed to keep her composure, and instead a flush of blood ran underneath her skin, coloring her face pink.

        Then, as quickly as he came, he turned and gave her a quick "thank you" over his shoulder, making his way to the door.

        As soon as he left and the door closed with a soft bang against its wooden frame, a small sense of finality came over Adelaide, almost as if she had done something that would destroy her completely. She felt the gazes of fellow servants, staring at her in wonder, and the heat crept up her face even more, coating her neck and making her uncomfortably hot. To avoid their gazes, she hurried to set the example of cleaning up. It seemed to work, and they shook their heads in disbelief and followed her lead, saying nothing more of the situation. For that, she was grateful. They were the closest things she had to friends here after all.