The small, silk covered litter swayed back and forth like a boat caught in a gale, as twelve servants carried it on their backs through the crowded streets of Brisaille. This was not the reason Adira felt seasick. As she bumped around amongst brocade pillows and all manner of laces and frills, she felt like a dressed bird ready to be roasted on a spit. The events leading up to this moment were humiliating indeed, and Adira was not sure she could ever live them down. She reflected on this, her painted cheeks burning under her heavy veil.
It all began when she took her shoes off one morning, several months ago. The day was turning out to be a hot, arid one, and her feet were sweating and sliding around in her leather shoes. This was her first mistake. She was supposed to be a well mannered daughter of a minister, not a “wild hooligan” as her mother called her.
Then she tied her skirts up around her knees (really, why did they make her wear such warm clothing in a desert country?) and waded about at the edge of the river. A hot wind tore through the flat land, carrying with it bits of dry grass and dust. It playfully tugged at the braided ribbons keeping Adira’s curly hair in check, and soon she was a picture of total disarray, but smiling ear to ear.
Her family lived on the outskirts of the city because they kept cattle and needed plenty of land for them to wander. This meant that Adira grew up wandering with them. She was used to running long distances, tumbling from trees, chasing the cattle dogs, and splashing among the cattails in the river. No matter how much her mother goaded her, she was never tamed the same way her sisters were.
She heard the bell ringing from the small gate that lead to her family’s courtyard. This signaled that breakfast was ready. It was meant to call in Adira’s brothers and the farmhands from the fields, for she was supposed to be up in her room practicing needlepoint and weaving. Still, no one ever scolded her for wandering freely like she did. So, she ran towards the house, her shoes swinging at her side by their laces and her bare feet tripping lightly over the packed red earth.
She slowed as she neared the gate. Two horses were there that she did not recognize. Large, warlike beasts with their manes done up in complicated knots. Their bridles were emblazoned with the Brisaille seal, a golden oak tree. The stable boy stood nervously between them, looking very small as he held their reigns.
“Whose are those?” Adira asked, approaching the odd trio.
The stable boy frowned and bit his lip. “Dunno, Miss Adira. They arrived a short while ago and took Minister Craven and Missus Craven by surprise.”
Adira studied the two massive horses. It was clear they were owned by military men. Or perhaps officials.
“Where are they now?”
“In the sitting room, but Miss Adira, they’ve been arguing in there for a while. I don’t think you should-”
But she was already running again, sending a small flock of chickens flapping and clucking. She rounded the side of her family’s low red brick home and burst into a side door which led straight to the sitting room. It seemed her whole family was already gathered there, and everyone froze and slowly turned to stare at her. She skidded to a halt, suddenly aware of the state of her dusty bare feet, her tumbled down curls, and the skirts that she had so carelessly tied above her knees.
Across from her, her five sisters stood in a line of perfect poise, not a hair out of place. Avalon, the oldest, grimaced at her severely and fiddled with her engagement ring. Agatha, the next oldest, averted her eyes and smoothed her pink silk dress. Aria, the one only two years younger than Adira, made a pleading face and shook her head vehemently. Alaina and Aquila were the youngest and identical twins. They both stood as still and straight as possible, but their small hands were linked together for comfort.
The two men sitting in the center of the room leveled their gazes on her as well. One was older than the other, and was greying at his temples. He was dressed in the official garb of the Brissaille court. All dark royal blue and neatly pressed with a high collar and lots of buttons. His companion was younger, perhaps twenty, and with dark hair damp with sweat, probably from the helmet he now held in his lap. He was dressed in soldier’s armor, emblazoned all over with golden oaks and oak leaves.
“Is this…a maidservant?” Asked the older man, unable to disguise the disgust in his voice.
“No,” Adira’s father sighed and crossed the room.
His eyes were dark but he held her shoulders with a gentle touch. “This is my daughter Adira. She is sixteen”
He guided her across the room to stand between Agatha and Aria so they were all in order of birth. Her mother sent her a stern look from her seat in the corner. Clearly she had burst into a very important moment.
Silence descended on the room as Adira frantically let her skirts down while Aria tried in vain to help tame her curls.
“Your daughter…” the older man said slowly, “you aren’t hiding any more daughters in the vicinity are you?”
“I only have these ones, Sir Zolfer,” said Minister Craven truthfully. “The rest of my children are all sons.”
“I must pick from these ones then,” Sir Zolfer said with a resigned smile. “The Royal family has made it clear that I must choose a daughter from each minister’s family from each country for Prince Cassius. He will then choose from them. I should hope you were unintentionally deceitful earlier, Minister Craven, and that you merely forgot about one of your daughters…because if not…”
The disguised threat was evident. Adira squirmed nervously, hiding her shoes behind her back with shaking fingers. It was clear now why these men were here. The royal family was going to have another bride selection for their youngest son. The last one had been when Adira was far too young to have been chosen. In fact, Avalon had been sent to Brisaille to be a part of the selection. She hadn’t been chosen, but she had talked about it for months afterwards, all full of the glow and pride of being considered one of the country's most accomplished young ladies.
“I…simply forgot, Sir Zolfer. My humblest apologies! I have been blessed with many daughters…” Minister Craven stuttered, staring down at the floor.
“Daughters,” Sir Zolfer mused, stroking his stringy beard. “They are rarely a blessing. However, they can serve the Royal Family’s needs. Which one will you send?”
“My eldest, Avalon, is a bit too old for Prince Cassius. And she is already engaged,” Minister Craven said, motioning for her to step back. “Aria, Alaina and Aquila are all under the age of fifteen. They are too young yet. This leaves Agatha and Adira.”
The rest of the sisters, having stepped back, left Agatha and Adira standing in full view of the two men. Agatha stood straighter, glowing with pride and excitement. Adira shrunk in on herself and stared down at the dusty footprints she had left on the rug.
“Agatha is seventeen and has already completed all of her lessons. She is a wonderful and bright young woman,” said Minister Craven. “I am sure if she is chosen she will excel as a princess in the court.”
Adira relaxed a little. Her father knew that the last thing she wanted was to be married against her will to Prince Cassius. Besides, he was very fond of her and could hardly bear parting with her. He would not let her get chosen.
“If I may be permitted to speak,” Missus Craven said suddenly, “my daughter Adira has uncommonly beautiful eyes. Everyone who sees them comments on their resemblance to the crest of the Golden Oak.”
Sir Zolfer stood up and crossed the room, the thud of his heavy footsteps muffled by the carpet. His boots swam dimly into Adira’s view, and he grabbed her chin and forced her face up with an iron grip.
“Ah…beautiful golden eyes. You are correct,” Sir Zolfer mused, his hot breath fanning across Adira’s face. “But the rest of her is entirely unsightly.”
“It is my fault…” Missus Craven bent her head, her long headwrap brushing the floor in perfect humility. “I did not train Adira as well as her sisters. I had many children very soon after she was born and her upbringing was neglected. But any child can be trained. Not every child is born with these uncommon eyes.”
Adira’s hands balled into fists behind her back. Her mother was surely trying to get her chosen as a punishment for being so careless.
Sir Zolfer considered this, turning her head this way and that, then stepped back to observe her as a whole.
“Prince Cassius did say that the preferred age be sixteen or younger. His royal highness is not yet seventeen, so he does not want his betrothed to be older than him.”
Agatha stood up straighter. “But Sir, I have just barely turned seventeen! I am but a few months older than his royal highness!”
“Agatha!” Missus Craven scolded, “do not speak out of turn to Sir Zolfer!”
“Sixteen…and with golden eyes,” Sir Zolfer mused, ignoring the outburst entirely. “She will do. Send her with us.”
Adira’s whole world shattered and rearranged itself. But Sir Zolfer didn’t seem to notice. He stood up and exited the room with the soldier accompanying him.
Adira slumped to the ground, her ears buzzing. Vaguely, she was aware of Agatha sobbing and being comforted by her mother. Her father knelt and gently took her hands in both his own, squeezing them hard enough to ground her.
“Think of it as a fun trip to the capital,” he said softly, “surely Prince Cassius will not choose you based on your uncommonly pretty eyes alone. You will be back here with us before the fields need to be harvested.”
They departed early the next morning. Adira was packed into a small carriage with her belongings and said a tearful goodbye to her father and Aria, the only two in her family who bothered to send her off. She was, however, allowed to have her older brother Marcus along as accompaniment for the very long journey.
He sat in the carriage across from her, wedged between a large trunk and a rolled up sleeping mat and looking rather annoyed at being stuck with his little sister for so long.
Their father grabbed his hand through the carriage window. “Take good care of her, Marcus. Promise me.”
Marcus nodded. “A wild animal like her will not be chosen anyway.”
Adira didn’t even have the strength to kick him for this comment.
Sir Zolfer called out an order and the small party started out. Aria ran alongside the carriage, waving goodbye. Adira hung out the window, watching her home get smaller and smaller until Aria and her father became nothing but specks in the distance. Then Marcus hauled her back into the carriage.
During the weeklong journey to Brisaille, they joined a procession of other carriages from the other minister’s daughters. There were four ministers of the country of Audun. Minister Craven was the Minister of Farming. There was also a Minister of Defence, a Minister of the Law, and a Minister of Peace. They all advised the King of Audun on important matters.
The country of Audun was part of an important peace treaty between five kingdoms. Long ago, the kingdom of Brisaille conquered the surrounding kingdoms of Audun, Terannys, Sybilus, and Colosun. Since then, Brisaille royalty always chose brides from the ministers and noblemen of their conquered countries to promote peace throughout the land. It was considered a great honor to be a part of the selection, and an even greater honor if you were chosen by a prince.
Adira always hated the custom. Trading women around like property? It was a bunch of phooey.
She watched from her carriage as the other Minister’s daughters from Audun hung out of their carriages, chattering loudly to each other above the racket of horses and soldiers. They looked so peaceful, so excited.
Marcus watched her, his dark eyes searching her face. He was her favorite brother, and for good reason. He had the same protectiveness over her that her father did, and loved her just as fiercely.
“What if…” he began, but then changed his mind and shook his head.
Adira knew what he was thinking. What if Prince Cassius really did choose her? What if she was forced to marry him? To live in the castle for the rest of her life? She had never left Audun. The desert plains were her home, as were the wide open skies and red brick houses. She would never be able to rest in a land like Brisaille.
she pushed those thoughts out of her mind. Prince Cassius would never choose her. All of the other girls from the five kingdoms were far more beautiful and well trained. He would take one look at her and be disgusted.
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