The Mage Queen Book 1: The Princess

Blazing spotlights. Strong aromas of food. Exploding fireworks. Jovial orchestral music.

Anastacia loved parties especially since she loved bringing out her most beautiful dresses.

Yet, tonight, her knees threatened to buckle beneath her silken gown.

Smiling and curtsying, although an easy task, felt more draining than usual. When she waved, her arm nearly dropped limply to her side. But it was a party for her; she had to keep up the appearance. Otherwise, all the staff’s efforts were for naught.

Two years ago, she would’ve sworn that she threw a tantrum over not having a gala in her honor. With the benefit of hindsight now, she groaned at the memory of her immaturity. What on Zemlya made her throw a tantrum over a party when all she was doing was smiling and waving for most of the party?

The afternoon before the party began, she confided in Queen Regina her thoughts about it. Although she had agreed to attend, it didn’t get rid of the cramps that knotted her stomach. When she confided in the queen, she half-expected a scolding. Her mother often did when she refused to go to a party. However, Queen Regina responded differently.

“I understand. It must be a lot of pressure on you after three years. If you truly feel you’re not ready then, it’s okay. We can celebrate another time and another way.”

She then had an epiphany. If she didn’t come out now, when? Would she be content spending the rest of her life living quietly in Xychosia? Anastacia knew the answer to that now.

“Thank you all for attending,” she began. “I understand that there are many questions.”

She looked upon the sea of bewildered expressions. They had the same question she had: how did she make it out in one piece?

“It is by the grace of Deus, Erkalla, and perhaps Fate’s design that I survived the Rape of Sofiene” —there it was, the practiced response she had about her survival— “and also, Queen Regina’s kindness and generosity. So tonight, I ask you all to please enjoy. Tonight is a grand celebration! Please eat and be merry! I hear the chefs put a lot of their heart and soul into their cooking today.”

As she ended her speech, the audience applauded before leaving for the buffet tables. She smiled in relief and turned to Queen Regina. The queen returned the smile with a slight nod. Anastacia felt her heart stop pounding. And although the speech went smoothly, she still had one question...

“Surprised by the number of guests, Ana?” asked Erkalla with a champagne glass in hand.

Anastacia giggled with a rueful smile. “Kind of.”

“Really? Three years ago, you would have jumped at any chance to have a party.”

Back then, it was a beautiful thing, she thought. She enjoyed the sparkling lights, the wonderful aroma of food, being asked to the dance floor by handsome nobles. Every gala always ended with a sparkling bang of fireworks filling the sky.

Now, she —dare she say it— dreaded galas. She dreaded the pairs of eyes that would watch her every move. The murmurs and mutters of astonishment from the news of her being alive made her ears itch.

“That was years ago, Erkalla.” She ruefully smiled. “Three years can really change a person.”

“Truly. If three years can do that to a person, what more four hundred?”

She nodded. “Will you join us at the tables?”

“I would rather not. My ilk and I are not really welcomed at the nobles’ tables.”

A frown marred her features. “Erkalla...”

“This night is yours to enjoy, princess. Please worry not about me. I can handle myself just fine. Now, if you excuse me” —Erkalla hiked her thumb towards the long line— “I am going to help myself to the roast suckling pork before it runs out.”

Anastacia giggled and watched Erkalla stride towards the cutting table. Once she was out of an earshot, Anastacia sighed. Although the upbeat orchestral music filled the air, a sense of dread dropped a rock in her stomach. The hairs on her nape stood on its ends. She dragged her feet along until she knocked into someone...

“Oops,” she yelped. Her grey eyes widened when she saw red wine staining the white button-up shirt. “My deepest apologies, I—!”

That someone she bumped into was a young man with charcoal black hair. His emerald green eyes twinkled with mirth as he pulled out a handkerchief to soak up the wine. Anastacia paled. First, she nearly messed up the speech now, she spilled wine on her guest?

“Don’t worry, Your Highness. Nothing a little bleach and lemon can’t fix,” he chuckled. “Besides, I might just even turn this top red. I’m definitely lacking red-colored tops anyway.”

Anastacia bit her lip. “You sure?”

“No problem. It’s not as if I can’t throw it into the washing machine.”

“A...what?”

“A washing machine. You know, a machine that washes clothes?”

Anastacia blinked. “I...”

The young man scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry, you probably haven’t seen one before. Xychosia probably does it differently.”

Anastacia smiled. Here was someone with who she could talk in a more relaxed manner. While he appeared formal for the evening, she could tell he was no noble. His speech was different. He slouched a little with his hands in his pocket, in comparison to the usual straight back and chin-up posture.

She giggled. “That, they most likely do, or perhaps I have never really thought about using a... washing machine.”

“One day, Your Highness. Maybe one day I can let you see one.”

“That would be nice. Speaking of which, I never got your name.”

The young man smiled. “Oh, my name’s Vincent. Vincent Iscariot.”

Anastacia nodded with a sigh of relief. A washing machine, she thought. She had never seen such a thing. But when she thought about it, she realized also that she never did wash her clothes. She smiled. That would be an interesting experience.

Her ears suddenly perked up at the slow music being played. Nobles slowly gathered to the center of the courtyard, bringing what looked like to be their partners. They curtsied and bowed before proceeding to dance. She then looked at Vincent who kept his eyes on the dance floor. Anastacia frowned for a moment. Then, she cleared her throat.

“Isn’t it customary for a man to ask a woman for a dance?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

Vincent shrugged. “As a man, I also know that women don’t like having their feet stepped on.”

The tips of her ears went bright red. “You... don’t know how to dance?”

“I have a relative idea. But that’s as much as it goes.”

She frowned before grabbing his hand. “I shall grant you the honor then.”

Vincent blinked. “What?”

Anastacia wasted no time in dragging him to the dance floor. A familiar feeling bubbled inside her. Her heart skipped. A beaming smile curved up her lips. Anastacia felt her arms become lighter than ever. Once she reached the dance floor, she spread her arms wide.

“Shall we?”

Vincent shook his head. “I am an awful dancer, Your Highness.”

“I have not had a dance in years. We can start simple.”

She smiled as Vincent took her hands. Anastacia felt his hands tremble before they started moving. Simple as it was, she felt at ease. The slow music soothed her anxiety with the calming lavender scent wafting into her nose. She let herself sway with the music and found herself sometimes pivoting as if Vincent took the lead. She giggled.

“You told me you were an awful dancer,” she mused.

Vincent shrugged. “I am awful.”

“Your dancing begs otherwise.”

“Her Highness is being kind.”

“And you are too humble.”

Vincent chuckled before leading her to the center of the dance floor. With one quick fallaway whisk, he hovered with her until they were in the middle. She gasped in surprise as Vincent changed direction again. He strode forward with his right foot before closing in and changing again but with his left. For someone who wasn’t a noble, he knew exactly how to lead.

“In all my years of dancing in a gala” –she pursed her lips– “you are by far the best leader I have ever had.”

Vincent smirked. “Her Highness flatters me. I'll cherish the moment the Princess of Sofiene was generous to compliment my amateur dancing."

Her smile fell upon hearing his words. Although the nobles recognized her, what about her people? Did the people of Sofiene still remember who their princess was? Would they hold it against her if she only came to rescue them after the infamous Rape of Sofiene?

Her feet then suddenly felt shackled. The jovial music faded into a distant echo. Shining lights, instead of glowing, burned the small tears that began to form in her eyes.