This is the working title I have given to my second concept for a novel. I want to store the first writings of it here and if you wouldn’t mind giving me feedback that would be wonderful 🙂 Please keep in mind this is a very, very early attempt. Thank you 🙂
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The journey to the High Court was always perilous for her people at this time of year. The golden sunshine shone down on their carriage with intense venom. Snow sighed and pulled the silk back over the window, being enveloped once more in its cool calmness. The silk was made especially for her family by the Oracles and she appreciated them beyond all others. Her people thrived in the crystal snow and silver moonshine and could not understand why her father was insisting they make the journey now. The High Court existed in a realm between all others and every season had a turn of being predominant; at this moment it was Summer with its treacherous sun. Snow sighed again and adjusted her spiders silk gown. In turn she heard her father sigh;
“Do not fret so Snowflake,” her father pleaded. He was Frostfall, King of the Winter Fae and she was sure she had never heard him plea before, what was he up to? “This is merely a trip to acquaint ourselves with the other Fae people’s. You know things have been tense between us and we do not want war to break out.”
“Father,” she began tentatively. “You worry beyond measure. I know of the myth where the War of the Fae begins and I think you put too much merit into it. Why did I have to attend?” She knew she was whining but couldn’t help it. She had been happy hunting and defending the borders when she had been called home. She was surprised her father had even remembered her existence. Yes she was the Crown Princess but she had been sure her father had been intent on naming one of his several other children as heir. She was the only child by Queen Winter before she had been killed in a riot and that made her sole heir but she was allowed to not like it.
“You come because you are needed.” That was all her father would say and he sat back and shut her out once more. She knew she should be insulted but she had been shut out most of her life so she was indeed used to it.
The dress felt alien to her, like it was too heavy and it over encumbered her. She longed for her Nightsilver armour and pure Nightsilver bow. Then she felt invincible, away from the politics and drama of the court. No one could touch her, ignore her or demean her. She had no responsibilities there and it felt wonderful. She brushed a lock of silver hair back behind her ear and winced. Her hair was a sign she was of royal blood; her family were signified by their silver hair, piercing ice blue eyes and blue tinged skin. When away she had sought different ways to hide it and blend in with the green-eyed, black-haired demeanor of her people but had failed miserably. Instead she had woven a tail about the bastard child of the High King unwanted and unneeded and for the most part it had worked.
She sighed and was just about to settle back into her contemplative whining when a heavy object hit the side of their carriage. It was quickly followed by another and another. The horses screamed in protest and bolted, breaking their fine Nightsilver chains and leaving their passengers behind. Snow stood, a little unsure of what to do in her father’s presence. He never condoned her fighting in any sort of way; he prefered she sit back and let the men fight in her stead. Her luminescent wings twitched in annoyance at that thought.
She could hear the footmen fighting outside and feared for them. They were part of the army but they were not her father’s elite, the men he usually took everywhere. Perhaps he had not expected an attack of this level on this particular journey. Whatever the reason he should have been more prepared and the warrior side of Snow rebelled.
She was taken aback however when her father stood, moved in front of her and drew his sword. Even she was not foolish enough to go outside, they would lose their strategic ground, surely he must know that. In any case he adopted a defensive position and waited. She hoped he did not need to fight as he hadn’t done for an age and she was unsure how good he was anymore.
They waited in silence while the fighting quietly ended outside; she wept silently for the footmen as she knew by now they must be dead. They had been good men and all with families who loved them. How would she ever be able to face them again?
Suddenly, the door to the carriage flung open and both were dazzled by the harsh sunlight. Her father faltered, as she somehow knew he would, and she had to listen as a sword sliced through his ceremonial armour and pierced him. She screamed. Still blinded by the sunlight she felt for the sword and started swinging it almost wildly, hoping she wasn’t injuring her father in the process. She could hear male laughter coming from all directions. How hilarious it must be to see a woman struggle with a sword. She wished again that she had her bow, then they would not be laughing as hard; she loved to shoot things blindfolded.
This carried on until someone grew tired and decided to hit her over the head and pick her up. She was trying her hardest to stay awake but the blackness of oblivion was quickly replacing the golden sun spots. She caught a brief glimpse of her father knelt as if in pain and in a pool of his own silver blood. She hoped he would make it; her heart broke at the thought of him dying. She tried to get to him but the overwhelming darkness consumed her…
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Thank you for taking time to read this 🙂 I would love just a general thought on how I could improve it. Thank you.
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