Shattered (1)

At eight o’clock that evening, the guests began arriving through the drawbridge of the palace’s north entrance.

Watching from the window in the front hallway as the caravans of lamplit carriages pulled into the circular drive, Clara shivered. The castle was warm with activity. Around her, the servants buzzed, but Clara stood still. She could feel it: a trembling in her chest as the excitement of being around people took over.

Her birthdays were rare occasions when she was free to interact with others. However, the guests had always been limited to the rich circle from Sierra and Vermont Kingdom.

The castle’s ballroom looked beautiful. Under the glow of so many chandeliers, she almost didn’t recognize the place. Tall pots of violet lilies lined the entryway, and the velvet-upholstered furniture had been pushed back against the wall to make room for the guests.

Clara dressed in a fantastic white gown with a soft silk-crepe bodice and an exposed corset back. Her vanilla hair was pinned high on her head in an array of shiny, intricately placed curls. Her diamond necklace, a gift from the queen of Vermont, shone against her pale skin, giving her such a regal air it nearly took everyone’s breath away.

“Momma, the princess is so beautiful. Can I marry her?” A little kid of no more than five looked up at her with adoration, his finger pointing at her. Clara blushed profusely and gave away a shy smile. She offered a slight wave at the kid as he was whisked away by his mother toward the center of the ballroom, which looked like a flowerbed in bloom: Extravagant, brightly colored gowns of every color, in organza, tulle, and silk, with grosgrain sashes, filled the room. The younger ladies carried bright nosegays of flowers, making the whole castle smell like summer.

More guests came through the front door in twos and threes. Bright-eyed and wrapped in white summer cloaks, the women curtseyed to the men in smart suits and waistcoats. Black-coated waiters whisked through the large open foyer, offering twinkling crystal goblets of champagne.

Heaving a sigh, Clara excused herself from greeting guests by the entrance and retired at the head table, where she swigged a generous sip of wine. She was tempted to loosen her corset and be able to feast on the mouthwatering food flooding out from the kitchen. But she couldn’t because she had to be the prim and proper princess. For all the years she had lived, this was where she always ended up. Drained and in dire need of a damned adventure.

Was it too much to dream of a whirlwind romance, of a man whisking her away into the woods at midnight, where they wouldn’t have to worry about anyone coming to find them? Scoffing lightly at her fantasy, Clara massaged her temples, groaning softly at the growing headache.

“Ah, what a pleasure to see you again, Princess Clara.”

Clara looked up at the owner of the shadow, towering over her, and was greeted by the ever-smiling face of Gabriel.

“Gabe!” She rounded the table and crossed their distance, and she was immediately wrapped into her cousin’s warm and strong embrace. It had been months since she’d last seen him. He was the closest she ever had of all the relatives she had out there.

Gabriel Lockheart possessed the same unique silver eyes as their family. He was as old as her brother at the age of twenty-five. Gabriel still had the kindest smile despite being an intimidating man who towered six feet in height and had a muscular body from years of army training.

“I didn’t know you were coming, Gabe,” Clara said, her voice muffled in her cousin’s hug. “And I missed you! Will you be staying for a few more days after my birthday?”

“Of course,” Gabe said, placing a kiss on Clara’s forehead. “Although Mother and Father would be back at the capitol soon to take care of important matters.” Then he looked over his shoulder to where Hunter and Renee were clustered among the few noblemen of the empire.

Hunter Spade Lockhart was King Astrid’s younger brother, who had been appointed to govern the city ever since Clara’s father was hailed to the throne. It was the reason why Gabe had to be away all the time. They lived in an estate where Clara couldn’t visit him.

“Hmm, do you think mom and dad would finally allow me to mingle outside the gates? I can finally visit you anytime if that happens.”

Gabe’s face turned serious in an instant. “And what gives you that idea, Clara? Haven’t we made a point about keeping you safe here with us?”

Clara’s smile faded, the fire of excitement extinguished in her eyes. “Because I’m all grown up? And I want to—” She paused, then bit her lip. She may tell them what she felt and what she thought, but her opinions wouldn’t matter in the end. “Gabe, maybe it’s time for me to do something for myself. That instead of hiding, maybe I should face the world.”

“Clara, it’s a risk everyone is afraid to take. And the problems we face in the capital don’t help. A lot has happened.”

“Exactly what happened? And what does it have to do with me?”

“It may have something to do with you.” He looked her straight in the eyes, searching for something inside her silver orbs. “I’m not one to sprinkle sugar on your wound, but the family won’t take risks. Not until the threat to the ancient magic users is eliminated.”

“Why of all people must it have to be me?” She looked at her trembling hands as if they could give her the answer. “What’s so special about having two elements within me?”

“It’s not about the number of power you had in you. It’s just that you possess something that can be Hestiora’s downfall if possessed by the wrong hands.”

“So the moment I was born, I got this one job. One job that costs me my freedom,” she whispered, her shoulders sagging.

“You are meant for something bigger, Clara. Life has something in store for you. Don’t lose hope.” Gabe put a hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. Clara guessed it was supposed to make her feel reassured, except it didn’t.

“What are you two going on about without me? I’m hurt.” The pair swiveled their heads to look at the man who owned that voice. The crown prince and Clara’s brother approached them in a confident gait.

Prince Mattheon Ambriel was Clara’s spitting image, tall and thin, with shaggy black hair and large, deep-set silver eyes. His lips were full and a natural rose color most girls would kill for. When she posed as a maid, she would hear other servants swoon over him when no one was around. And unlike Gabriel, her brother’s mouth was set in a straight line, but his eyes were warm and alive.

“Happy birthday, my dearest sister," Theon greeted in a small smile and engulfed her tiny frame in a tight hug. Past her brother’s shoulder, Gabriel was shaking his head, silently telling Clara to drop the subject, and there was no way they’d talk about it in front of Theon.