Dancing with Deception

Dancing with Deception (2)

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Chapter 2 – First Impressions

Princess Talia.

No. Queen Talia Cavelier.

Yes, I liked the sound of that. I couldn't help the excited grin that covered my face, but only allowed myself a moment more to bask in the idea of it. That it would happen I had no doubt, but I was getting ahead of myself.

First impressions were everything, and I intended to make a good one. With any luck, when I made my first appearance at court it would be with the Prince as an escort. In the two weeks since we’d received our invitation mother had been busy filling me in on the inner workings of the castle. Whom to avoid and befriend, what other ladies would be at the academy and which one’s were any threat to our plans. Personally, I didn’t think I’d have any real competition; nothing compared to good breeding, something that was obviously lacking in all the girls actually choosing to attend the academy. Of course, there was the small problem of having to train there myself, but really, how hard could it be to swing a bit of wood around?

The most useful thing my mother had managed to find out though was where the Prince was currently staying, a merchants house on the edge of town. Just the thought of Prince Nicholas being forced to reside in the home of his subjects left a sour taste in my mouth. I smoothed out the skirts of my dress, trying to remove the image of my Prince, with his honey blonde hair, and gold trimmed tunic being reduced to living like a commoner.

It was one thing to travel among the nobles of the Kingdom, and another entirely to break bread with the middle class, an insult. I let out a sigh, thinking of all the changes I would have to reverse as Queen, but I suppose someone had to put things to right.

I grabbed onto the seat tightly as my carriage jerked to a sudden stop. My heart beat rapidly as the doors were open and a hand was extended to help me out.

This was it, the first day of the rest of my life. I had left everything I knew behind and was free of my mothers iron fisted influence of the last seventeen years.

As I stepped out of the carriage, the first thing I noticed was the noise. It was everywhere, and yet I couldn't pinpoint the source of any of the multitude of sounds.

Children were laughing and screaming, women giggled and gossiped behind closed doors, men bartered their goods and announced their wares, and then came the smell.

Spiced apple mixed with the sour hint of unwashed skin, freshly baked bread so heavy in the air I could almost taste it, the earthy scent of dirt kicked up from the roads that coated my throat.

All my senses were overwhelmed, and I clutched my skirts tightly in my fists as though it would offer some sort of protection.

Granted, the atmosphere was no different than the village of Fief Daera, but everything here seemed magnified and unfamiliar, and truthfully I’d never ventured far into the neighborhood of my home.