"No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of [the] change. You just... come out on the other side. Or you don't." - Stephen King

Raven's Peak, Ardam 40

The eighth year of the reign of King Friduric, the first son of Ardam Vaubadon - The First King of Ardam

A flash of lightning lights the air of the bright high-summer sky. Seconds later the rumbling thunder tears through the orchard. My own scream, muffled by the thunder, chills me to the bone. The smell that would haunt me for years to come nestles itself into my memory and muscle. I look to the charred earth, barely discerning where the bodies and scorched tree are.

Another rumble, this time not that of clashing clouds, pulls me from my nightmarish memory as I jolt awake. It takes my eyes a moment to remind my brain of my surroundings: the carriage that I've been travelling in for close to three months. Pins and needles shoot up my hand that I used as a pillow during my nap. Even Ria has been complaining about the absence of legroom and the knobbly pillows.

"You'll be fine," Ria offers meekly while pampering her frizzy curls into a tight bun - just as the lump starts to form in my throat. "Aebbé Vaubadon, we've been gone for a long time. I know you are dreading the etiquette and unspoken rules that await you, but you are the blood of Ardam the Conqueror. If he could unite all our squabbling kingdoms, you can face those whimpering ladies and lords." She offers me a weak smile from the opposite side of the carriage.

Avoiding her twinkling honest brown eyes, I busy myself with smoothing out the crinkles in the dress, and then part the curtains to steal a glance of our surroundings. We must've entered barely minutes before. The rumble that pulled me from my sleep was probably that of Raven's Peak's heavy gates opening and closing. If I reached out through the window, I could touch the buildings made from the dark stone of the Hiraebev mountains. The crisp air wafting into the carriage brings familiar forgotten smells: the soil of the mountains, apple orchards, and markets selling fresh bread and spices. It also carries the scents of, what is unfamiliar to Raven's Peak, but well-known to me: blood and death.

I recognise a crumbling fountain further down the street as we pass a familiar crossroads. Shocked that the once buzzing square is deserted, I can't help but sigh in relief when I realise that the coachman obeyed my order: do not enter Raven's Peak via the main routes.

I have no desire to be greeted by all the saluting inhabitants of Raven's Peak. There will be more than enough opportunity for them to welcome their estranged princess: Ferdaid and Friduric would have organised a customary feast to welcome me back. I even ordered the guards accompanying Ria and me to leave us yesterday. They did so grudgingly after Captain Fabrizion Ouliu and I came to the agreement that his men could follow us, but only if wearing plain clothes and at a safe distance. The captain had refused to part with us and took his seat next to the coachman, saying that our safety was his only priority.

The coach gives an unnatural squeak, followed by a groan, and then a thump that causes Ria and me to fall from the bench.

"Of course!" I groan.

The horses whinny. The coachman, Mr Nicholas Stabl, mutters an incomprehensible curse and scurries down. He knocks on the door and doesn't wait for us to answer: "M'ladies, one of the coach's wheels has broken."

I deduced that when we slammed to the ground.

"How long will we be delayed, Mr Stabl?" Ria asks sweetly through the parted curtain of the window.

"It is difficult to predict. I do not have a spare wheel, and I think the axle has broken." Perspiration beads on his dusty forehead before he wipes it with his faded bottle-green cap. The sick smell of sweat creeps into the carriage as he fans himself with the fraying cap.

Ria sighs uncharacteristically before tracing her eyebrows between her forefinger and thumb.

After tying my cloak and slipping the hood over my face, I open the door, only to find Captain Fabrizion, dressed in the plain clothes of a merchant, offering me his hand. After helping me out, he offers his hand to Ria - who takes one look at his dark brown corkscrew curls and steely eyes before an endearing blush creeps up her face. A smile so brilliant that it would reflect light more than fresh snow could, illuminates his face - and Ria's flushed face becomes even redder.

Hiding my chuckle in the royal blue velvet of my cloak, I address the captain "Captain, we will be continuing on foot. If I am correct, we are half an hour's walking from the castle?"

"Yes, milady," he says with his bubbling voice and another smile that would shame the purity of snow.

I look at the castle that broods over the city, a shiver crawling down my spine. The castle and its mountain look ominous in today's absence of a clear blue sky. I missed the dark walls and mountains of Raven's Peak. The towers crawl into the grey skyline. The somber picture is intensified by crimson flags with golden crests hanging limply on the walls.

"Have you sent a messenger to King Friduric?" I ask as I recognize two of the other men standing inconspicuously a short distance from the coach. "I just want to know when they are expecting me," I add when I realise that it might sound like I doubt his ability to do his job. - which would be completely untrue. Captain Fabrizion is excellent; no wonder my brothers entrusted my safety to him.

"I sent a man when we entered the city, so they are expecting you in the hour," he says as he shifts his belt on his hips. When he realises Ria's starry eyes are fixed on him, he aligns his back with his narrow hips - like a peacock prancing.

This is the part of the city Master Elan lives in. If it is indeed the axle that broke, they won't be able to repair it in such a short time. It wouldn't take me too long to get to his place, a few minutes at most. Adding a few minutes to my walk to the castle won't matter. "Since the coach is broken I will go on an errand that I planned for tomorrow," I announce and shove my hands into my pockets.

Captain Fabrizion nods before folding his hands behind his straightened back. "My men will inform the King." He turns to Ria: "Please make sure that our lady arrives with ample time to freshen up for the celebratory feast tonight."

Ria smiles before lightly touching his arm - a gesture so small yet so significant. "Naturally. My life duty is to ensure that Princess Aebbé arrives on time, is deemed presentable, follows etiquette, and has her every need taken care of. And, if I may be so coy as to say it myself, I do a quite remarkable job."

I throw my arms into the air. "Ria, how many times have I told you that you are the most conscious, most gracious, most spectacular maid, lady-in-waiting, and friend anyone can ever have? Your patience is astounding. Your sewing skills rival those of the seamstresses of Ligeia. Lastly, your selflessness continues to astonish me by the day."

Captain Fabrizion Oliuliu stutters a mumbled "Ria is certainly stunning" before turning back to me. "Your Highness, do you require an escort?"

Struggling to contain my giggling, I have some difficulty to answer him with a straight face. "Not a visible one."

He nods and signs an order to one of his men, hidden in a close-by alley.

I take Ria's hand and gently pull her in the direction I want to go. She takes a moment longer to stare at the Captain, blushes and follows.

Even after eight years, I have no difficulty navigating the narrow alleys and dark corners of Raven's Peak. Some of the buildings have been touched up and others have decayed, but nothing really changed - except for the cold fear hanging in the air. Gone were the vendors in their bright clothes. There were no children running and playing in the streets. The echoes of the footsteps of guards marching and patrolling the city were absent. Yet, from the west, the din of battle and activity hummed in the air.

The buildings grow closer together, with their crowns almost touching above us. The roads grow narrower before opening onto a cul-de-sac where a faded white building proudly stood among a sea of grey stone ones. Elan always said that he wanted people to recognise his 'House of healing' from the towers on the four mountains. The blown glass door allows me a look into my mentor's shop with its shelves of bottles and other peculiarities. Though knowing that the door wouldn't splinter, I still gently rap my knuckles on the door. The silence stretches on before I knock again.

"He isn't here," a raspy voice echoes into the deserted street. A cube of a woman with iron coils in her hair leans on the sill of the third-floor window of the adjacent building.

"Good afternoon, mam." Suppressing a yawn, my voice doesn't sound as chipper as I would have liked it to be.

She snorts, revealing a double chin and a bull-like neck. Her crow-like eyes narrow as they flit from me to Ria, and back to me.

Right.

"When will he be back?" Taking care not to let my hood slip and reveal my whole face, I adjust it so she can see a part of my hopefully earnest face.

"How should I know?" She lifts her boulder-like shoulders and arms, her chunky underarm flab wobbling.

Breathe, Aebbé. You just need answers. You don't need to drink tea with her.

"Do you know where he has gone?"

A meaty arm exits the window and points in a vague direction: "The place where he works."

"But this is the building where he works?"

"Not since the war started. He barely comes home," she puffs before taking a sip from an enamel cup, then tilting it so the contents pour to the ground.

Ria and I jump back simultaneously before the coffee splashes on our shoes. "And his wife?"

She looks at me quizzically: "Have you been living under a rock? Died a year or some back: indigestion or something equally vile."

I ball my fists, noting that I would have to ask Elan about his joy of a neighbour. "So where is it that he works now?"

Before answering, she yells a non-repeatable insult to someone over her shoulder, revealing a pock-ridden cheek. "The tents where they bring the ones who got injured."

Of course!

"And where are those tents?"

"Are you daft?"

Refusing a helpful answer, the rotting wooden windowsill threatens to split apart as she shuffles from our view.

"What a polite and cheerful lady," Ria mutters with a shaking head.

We make our way to the castle guided by the streetlamps emitting a strange glow as the day starts to disappear. Every now and again, a window would hammer close. The city seems to wake from its slumber as men slump back to their houses, returning from their jobs.

"Ria, what dress did you ready for tonight?"

"I made a new one before we left."

"Oh?"

"You'll like it. You'll look splendid."

"I was hoping for something to make me invisible."

She takes my hand and squeezes it.

"If I helped you with that, I wouldn't be fulfilling my duties."

We arrive at the castle after a short and brisk walk. Angular towers, with rose and golden flags, rise from and into the mountain. Seeing my family crest on the clothes of the guards turning some of the people at the rusting portcullis assures me that I am truly home.

"Great! They will announce my arrival," I mumble with dripping sarcasm.

Ria produces some papers: "I knew you would want to sneak into the castle, so I asked Fabrizion to write and sign these."

"Fabrizion?" I say with lifted eyebrows.

She blushes and ignores my taunt: "It says that we are escorts for some lord."

"You said we are prostitutes?"

"Yes, they won't question it."

"Ria, do I ever tell you that you are brilliant?"

"Too many times."

"Well, you are the absolute best."

"State your business," a stocky guard with leering eyes commands. He studies the papers Ria hands to him: "Do you know where to meet Lord de Berchelai?"

Ria nods.

De Berchelai?

Of course! Ria, you are so cunning!

The man has quite a reputation when it comes to women. Rumour has it that he has had countless affairs with married ladies and impregnated even more servant girls. No-one would question the authenticity of our papers.

"If you get lost, I will be more than willing to show you the way - and some other things too! Let them through," he says as he waves us through and gropes my butt.

I exhale to prevent myself from amputating his hand.

We enter the castle through one of the servant entrances, not fearing the servants' curious eyes; they know well when they should act blind. When we have left that section we run into a group of men. No, elves, I correct myself when I see their distinguishing cobalt attire: The Second Order.

I keep my head down.

"You do not look like you belong here," one of them says.

"Our services have been requested," I reply softly.

"What service might that be?" the voice asks.

Ria holds the forged papers out. They ruffle as someone takes them.

"That which is acceptable to humans but not to us," another voice says with disgust after an eternity of silence.

The first voice: "Reveal your faces so we can note it."

"We've been requested discreetly ."

"The safety of this castle's inhabitants is our priority, not discretion," the voice says icily.

I sigh; the chance of them recognizing me is slim. I push my hood back and keep looking down.

"Satisfied?" I hiss.

"You are dismissed."

I pull the hood over my head again and we rush away

"I don't think I want to encounter anyone else," Ria says when we have slipped around the corner. "It was a horrible idea."

"Oh, yes, but it is better than the alternative."

"Can you imagine their faces when they discover your identity?"

I shrug: "They will need some convincing to believe that I am their fat, depressed, socially-awkward princess."

"You should think of yourself as a butterfly."

"Which still means that I wasn't like this before."

Ria hides her snort in half a giggle.

"We should have encountered some guards by now," I say absentmindedly. The hallways are surprisingly quiet, which makes me worry that the castle isn't as secure as it should be. I recall Captain Ouliuiu saying that all the Orders are in the city. The city should be safe. But what about a threat from within? I'm the last person who wants guards surrounding me the whole time, but I understand the necessity of it.

"At least it's been cleaned," Ria offers when we arrive at my room without encountering anyone else. I study my room that has been left exactly like it was eight years ago.

"I'll change it soon," I venture as I wince at the overpowering pink soft furnishings from my youth.

"I will inform your brothers of your arrival. You should clean up. If you go looking like this they might think you are really a prostitute, and a low-class one too.

"Thank you," I say with both gratitude and sarcasm.

One of my father's predecessors invented a network of pipes to deliver water to the chambers of the members of our family. Obtaining hot water for my bath is as simple as opening a tap. The first spout of murky water splutters and eventually gives way to clear water. I let the water run for a bit more to be sure that the rust and dirt from years of disuse are flushed out.

I'm wrapped in a towel and sitting on my bed when Ria comes back, looking upset.

I frown because she never gets upset. "Ria, what happened?"

"The King and his Hand ordered that you remain in your room until they have time to summon you."

I can't believe my ears!

"They have also informed me that there would be no feast in your honour tonight. You are welcome to join the dinner in the hall."

"I don't find your jokes to have good taste," I say knowing that she won't joke about this, but hoping that my brothers did not scorn me.

"It is not a joke."

I did not want to be the centre of attention, but denying me my feast is denying my existence and allowing the entire court to make fun of me - exactly what I want to avoid. A dark look passes on my face.

Ria sees it and pales.

"Do you still have the dress?"

She blankly looks at me.

"The one you said you made for tonight?"

She nods.

"Do you need to prepare it?"

She shakes her head.

"I'm going to wear it."

A while later I regret my choice to wear the dress Ria made. The obsidian dress is breathtakingly beautiful, and I don't recognise myself in it. It emphasises that I am no longer bearing an excess of weight. It has a finish of pearls at the hems, the sleeves and the very low, very revealing collar. The golden embroidery compliments my flaxen waist-length unruly curls cascading down my back.

"Ria, the dress is beautiful."

"I know," she says beamingly.

I walk over to my trunk that has been brought by the Captain's men. I unlock it and take out a smaller chest. I place my hand on the lid and wait for the click that signals that it has unlocked. My crown is just more than a ringlet. It was a gift from the elves. The golden leaves have streaks of silver in them, but no gemstones. I put my crown and my family ring on in a final act of defiance.

By now I am livid. I haven't seen my brothers in eight years and they don't even go to the trouble to welcome me.

Father would never approve.