The First Chapter of My Book

Alright, so we've been friends for a while now, and all I ever talk about is writing and reading. Which is strange because other than this blog, you guys have no idea what I actually write about! So, without further adieu, here is the first chapter of my novel Royal. Please tell me what you think and leave honest opinions. Flattery is wasted on me. (Although encouragement is much appreciated.) It would mean the world to me if you could manage to read the whole chapter. :) Sorry for the inconsistent formatting.

        Jolenta’s eyelids fluttered open at the sound of a faint creak. Gripping her pillow and rising with a sharp gasp, she scanned what could be seen in the dark room. Everything was as still and silent as it had been when she went to sleep.

Another sound echoed.

          She rose with a start, then relaxed to find her husband sleeping soundly. Smiling, she used one hand to softly rub the broad back facing her, and with the other ran her fingers along his prickly cheek. His warm skin beneath her hand was calming, and her pulse relaxed. Gently, she turned, and rose with a start to behold two thick silhouettes standing beside her bed. The shock was numbing, offering no chance to cry out or wake the king. The arms of hooded phantoms lifted her and all the moisture vanished from her lips when they shoved a gag in her mouth. In vain she writhed and struggled under their bruising grip, hope farther behind her with their each step forward.

Eyes wide with terror, her gaze bounced as they treaded down the stairs and though their step was gentle, their grip remained firm. Swift yet silent, they entered the parlor and shut the doors behind them. When Jolenta heard the latch fall into place, a tear gathered at the corner of her eye.

          Weary from shock and struggle, her body lay limp over their forearms. Her teeth pierced the cloth when the hold around her arm tightened and they kicked open the window shutters. A dark night sky loomed over the castle courtyard as crickets chirped in the distance. The Alavare stars could offer no encouragement that early morning, despite their sincerest efforts to shine comfortingly.

            She almost sighed with relief when he released his thick fingers, as the man mounting his horse lifted her onto the saddle in front of him. Her oppressor dug his heels into the horse, at which the beast lurched into a run and she bobbed helplessly, the fellow with arms on either side of her holding tight to the reins.

For many hours they rode through the mysterious night, dashing past dark trees that spread out their limbs like gangly ghosts, and no other sign of life was detected besides the occasional hoot of an owl. Jolenta, hopeless for an escape resigned to her unknown fate. There came a time when the morning sun peeked over the horizon that the queen’s captors slowed their pace and the horses drew near to a dismal cave. The clip-clop of horse’s hooves against cobblestone for the last short stretch became the sound of impending doom to her ears. The lady shuddered to imagine what lurked in the dark abyss as they led her into the cavern. A hollow leaking sound, along with the squeaking and squabbling of mice sent a shiver down her spine.

           “Stay here,” they muttered, casting her to the ground and scraping the skin off her elbows causing a piercing sting. In the dark she tried to keep warm, hugging her knees and praying that her husband and children would not worry for her when they awoke to learn the truth. Teeth chattering, pupils dilating, she gasped when the frame of a different figure drew near. She scrambled back on her heels and did not stop until her head hit a wall. Her fingertips pinched pebbles lying loose around her; she could hear her sweat drop when it hit the rough ground. The voice bellowed: “Hail her majesty: Queen Jolenta of Alavare…how kind of you to grace us with your presence.”

         Rosalina awoke with a start at the sound of unsteady breathing. She seized a wet rag and gently used it to wipe the moist forehead of the ill child before her. For four nights Princess Evangeline had been sick, and for four nights dedicated Rosalina had faithfully sat awake by her side, prepared to fulfill any need. She sank back into her chair with a sigh of relief, as Evangeline fell again into a deep sleep. Rosalina rubbed her eyelids, and goose-bumps covered her arms when she recalled her frightful dream. To be sure, nobody knew just how the dear queen had been kidnapped, but the servant trusted her dream as a reliable portrayal. She turned towards the little girl whose wheezy breathing caused an incessant fear. Softly stroking Evangeline’s warm cheek, Rosalina turned her gaze toward the window. Propping her elbows on her legs while tilting her head on her hands, she wistfully admired the beauty below.

           Just outside the castle wall, a flourishing apple orchard grew, where in the day time all the village children would play and swing from the branches laden with fruit. Beyond the trees was nestled the quaint Alavare village, where resided simple houses, simple people, and simple lifestyles. And yet despite the easiness of Alavare’s day to day life, passersby from bustling cities were wont to long for the intimacy of which the Alavare people could boast. Most families had lived there for countless generations, creating a tight bond between friends and foes. A knock sounded upon the door and stealing a glance at the princess, Rosalina opened the door with great care not to disturb the closest girl she had to a sister. “What is it Luke?” she whispered to the night-capped fellow before her.
            “His majesty requests your presence at once.” he replied.                                          
            “Oh, but surely he must know that I cannot bear to leave his daughter,” she protested.
            “King Roldan says it is urgent. I advise you go to him immediately.”
            “But I am only in my night clothes.” He answered her objection by thrusting the candle into her hand and giving her an encouraging push down the hallway. She tightened her robe about her and shuddered as the previous royals in the paintings on the walls stared disapprovingly. During the daytime, Alavare Castle remained her warm and welcoming home, yet the mystery of darkness changed everything, for at night the long corridors and creaky doors caused her blood to curdle. Hastening her footsteps, Rosalina knocked before entering the library where all was dark.        

            “Your majesty?” she whispered.                                                                           
            “Draw the curtain,” a raspy voice commanded. “We have no light but dawn breaks.” Eagerly, she threw back the window coverings, allowing an illuminating light to flood through the room. Roldan sighed and took meditative steps towards the tall window, while Rosy stood patiently, awaiting a cue from her king.                                            
             He faced the windy dark of a spring night as his fingers anxiously tapped the frosted window panes. Biting his lip and turning his head to the side he caught a glimpse of Rosalina out of the corner of one eye, and he examined her humble state.                                   
             Just a young woman, with tousled hair, dirty nails and fear-flickering eyes. And yet, there was something in her gaze and manner, which he supposed had always been there, that inspired security, assurance and confidence. Facing her full on he stared with silent praise at the servant he had watched so long, meekly trailing through his own castle halls while taking better care of his daughter than sometimes he did. His eyes glanced past her as though looking for someone else, but he knew behind that the closed library door, no companion awaited him.

            No counselor or advisor that had anything new to say, and neither of his children would understand.

            Although the servant’s faces had grown to be as familiar and commonplace as the paintings ornamenting the castle walls, upon reflection, there was more to be learned and gained about them. Tragedy often requires new perspective, and though the king had not expected to find an answer this way, he wondered what wisdoms and insights he had ignored all these years, by refusing to acknowledge those who made his day-to-day life run smoothly. Once more he looked upon Rosy with a new respect, sure of his choice.

            “I know Evangeline ails because of her mother’s absence,” his mild voice spoke sorrowful words, prompting Rosalina to approach her master and remind him:
            “You shall find your queen yet, King Roldan.” Rosy watched her master’s gaze drop, while his grey eyes filled with tears. It was all the compassionate servant could do not to throw her arms about the king and whisper words of comfort, but despite Roldan’s gentle nature he was subject to pride and thus she dared not mock it. Rather she stood by his majesty gazing at the sunrise, awaiting an answer. At last he heaved a sigh, turned around and began,

 “I feel as though I have failed all of Alavare by not recovering Jolenta.”
            “But they know as well as I that you have done all you can, and no good person would mistake that for failure my lord,” she offered these words of wisdom with the utmost humility, prompting Roldan to affectionately reply,
            “Rosalina, you are only nineteen and yet you speak like a wise man of a hundred years,” he paused to let out a soft laugh, “How do you do it?”
            “If I know anything pertaining to wisdom your majesty, it is for the sole reason that I have learned it from you.”
            His warm smile vanished when he looked down upon the village he ruled and with head bowed remarked in a hoarse voice, “If only the people of my kingdom thought as highly of me as you do.”
            Taking a step closer while maintaining a formal distance she replied, “If I may be so bold your majesty, although I remain confident the people love you dearly, I remind you that you have a wonderful family and a loyal staff of servants whom shall always respect and honor you.”            Suddenly, Roldan threw his arms about his daughter’s nurse and whispered through her long mane of hair, “Thank you…Rosalina.”

Upon hearing this, a tear or two trickled down the servant’s cheeks.

For six years she had served Evangeline and looked up to the king as a father figure, and to receive even one tangible token of affection deeper than the pleasant cordialities dictated by formality, was like a gift of blessed assurance. After a moment Roldan drew back and slowly crossed to the other side of the now well-lit room, his heavy boots thudding with each step.
            “The original reason I summoned you,” he began, now with a more cheerful voice, “Is because I know you to be an observer.”

Blushing, though not sure why, Rosalina repeated, “An observer my lord?”

“You may say precious little but your eyes are more active than your mouth. I have seen you grow from a frail child into a confident young woman. Yet I have noticed more than that.” Thoughtfully, she watched him, her head slightly titled to one side as it often did when she found herself intrigued. “As a girl you came from the village,” he continued, pacing alongside bookshelves, running his fingertips along the leather binding and he would pluck a book from its place smiling as though seeing an old friend. “Here, you arrived, completely unaware of the cares that trouble me presently. But since then, during your devotion toward my daughter and service to the family, you have seen and heard much.” Rosy, still flustered, wished that the ground beneath her feet could swallow her and take her to a safer place not in the presence of kings or where she was required to stand by and idly listen to casual praise.

            Roldan faced her, and though he smiled not, hope gave sparkle to his eyes. “I want you to think back to your former days. Remember the life you once lived, free of the knowledge learned from the experience you have now. What would you, as a villager, speculate about my predicament?”

            Inhaling deeply, she obeyed and closed her eyes. At first, the memories returned so easily she almost forgot where she was. As real as the wood beneath her feet Rosy saw her old home, the roof made of moss and her mother singing a folktale as she dipped candles or spun wool.
             Her eyes flashed open, and the shadowy room reeled her back to reality. She nervously pulled at her gown and nibbled at her nails. Roldan was so incredibly wise! How could she possibly advise him in such a tender matter? She continued to pace in silence when at last the king bellowed, “I did not ask you because I did not want an answer.”
            Embarrassed, she straightened her posture and replied, “King Roldan, you have already sent out hundreds of men on the request to find her majesty, perhaps now the thing to do would be to write to an ally for assistance.”
            The King walked absently to and fro, though pointing one finger in the air as though trying to find the proper words to express himself. “As a matter of a fact, I have already written to one of my most trusted confidants from Zadith,”
            “Zadith!” Rosalina dared to interrupt his majesty when she heard the name. “But my lord the kings of Zadith have avenged us these hundred years at least.”
            “And I of all people know that Rosalina,” Roldan said in a stern tone, prompting her to flinch as though expecting a beating, although she knew very well he would never stoop to such treachery. “But I have a good, trustworthy friend who just so happens to be from there.”
            “And what, pray is his name?”
            “Sir Lyle Weston. I wrote to him nearly a fortnight ago yet he has not replied. However, in the past Sir Lyle has always come through for me so perhaps I should delay a while longer.”
            Swallowing a retort Rosalina sedately replied, “To be truthful my king, I think you should do whatever you believe best.” The king sank into the leather chair; head leaned back, rubbing his dark eyes with his large hands. “Her highness will be ready for breakfast presently if you would excuse me.”
            “Of course.” he replied, although as she walked out the library door with a backwards glance, Rosalina could see that Roldan’s mind was far from anything near him.                                                       Her gasp echoed through the hallway as the first thing Rosalina saw after closing the door  were the entire staff of servants gathered around, all scowling, mouths twisted in suppressed curiosity. With nose stuck up she attempted to walk past, yet William Clyde, the old gardener who always smelt of cabbages would not budge out of her path. “Please let me through Mr. Clyde,” Several of the servants began to mutter among themselves and then shook their heads in unison.
            “Not unless you tell us what you and Roldan was talking about fer so long missus.”

 “You will do good not to refer to our beloved king by his first name and behind his back furthermore.”
            “Must have been somethin’ important.” Eliza, the high and mighty baker said in her crackly, unpleasant voice. “Or she wouldn’t be avoidin’ our question.” The other servants all agreed and demanded a direct answer yet Rosalina held her ground.
            “I would be betraying his majesty himself if I told, and believe me... the subject was nothing that you don’t already know.” Glad to give the old women nothing to gossip about, Rosalina escaped to Evangeline, leaving the servants to return to their chores with somber faces.                 
            The princess still lay in her bed, though she gazed with a longing look in her eye out the window, envying the Alavare children playing outdoors in the early morning. Determined to cheer her mistress, Rosalina knelt beside Evangeline and began, “How about something for breakfast? I’ll get you anything you like… eggs perhaps?” The poor darling weakly shook her head for she had little strength to do much else. “Well scones then?” Rosalina tried, “Those are your favorite, and I’ll bet Eliza could make them fresh.” In response the sick child sighed and turned her head away.

For every time Rosy saw Evangeline in pain, it was as though a small knife pricked her heart.                    Thus to hide the tears sparkling in her own eyes she picked up a nearby book. “I’ll read some poems then. They always cheer you up.”

“Where is Harry?” Evangeline’s weak voice was barely audible yet kindred Rosalina understood, although the question surprised her.
            “Well I have not seen the Prince yet this morning, do you desire to see him?”
            “I am not sure,” Evangeline sighed and tossed fitfully. “But Rosy he has not visited me twice since I have been sick.”
            “Prince Harold has been busy, I am sure that is the only reason he has not come more often. I shall fetch him for you.” Eager to make her mistress happy she set out in search of the melancholy Prince. However, she swiftly remembered that she had not properly dressed herself yet, and fled to her small quarters adjacent to the princess’.

Carefully, she selected a frock of a pale gold color to wear. Once when she had worn the dress, Evangeline had told her with child-like admiration that the color made her brown eyes appear as shining and innocent as a fawn’s.... of course, since then she had worn the garment often. With haste, Rosalina pulled her honey-blonde tresses into a loose bun, and secured them with a silver ribbon.  She tied the trimming with a sad twinkle in her eye for she recalled how the queen had given her a box containing the ribbon around her hair and many more for her birthday last year. The caring queen never forgot a single servant’s birthday, and she treated each with great affection. Jolenta’s light-hearted spirit brought so much joy wherever she went that without her the castle felt grey most times.  After splashing her bright face with cool water, Rosalina set off in search of Prince Harold.

Most of the time she did her best to avoid the man, for he lurked around the castle with an apathetic air, as though he could not see why everyone believed it so very important that he should learn the duties of a king. Rosalina bounded down the main stairs in eagerness to please the princess, yet to her surprise she bumped into Harold as she ran down the stairs and he walked up.              
             Prince Harold never ran.                                                                                                   
           “Oh! Your highness,” she apologized, curtsying politely. The gloomy lad uttered not one word and merely walked past. “Please Prince Harold,” she addressed him. “Your sister requests your presence. She is ill you know and would enjoy your company.”
            “Despite what you and the other servants may think I am not ignorant. Of course I am aware that the Princess is sick.” He said, with his pale hazel eyes squinted like a cat’s.
            Poor Rosalina bowed her head that she might not have to bear Harold’s condemning glare. “I did not mean to offend your highness.”
            With great care not to appear too concerned he asked with an annoyed sigh, “And where is Evangeline now?”
            “In her bed chambers. She will be delighted to see you.” The two went their separate ways, Harold to pay his respects to his half-sister only because he feared a fuss might be raised otherwise, and Rosalina to the kitchen for her own breakfast. Not after she had taken two steps into the kitchen did she hear King Roldan calling her name from the adjoining dining hall. “Did you call me my lord?” 
            “Rosy, good news at last!” he kissed her on the cheek with a smile; “Sir Lyle has finally responded, and he is due this afternoon. I am sure his counsel with prove helpful. Thank you for your assurances this morning.” Feeling hopeful again, he hugged the servant in his joy, however it was all she could do to muster a faint smile. After all, how promising could a fellow from the wretched land of Zadith be?

Written by: Karoline Kingley