The Ivory Rite

Chapter 1

I sit before a wall made entirely of glass, staring down into the garden below. The giant ice angel seems to stare back, her head almost level with the castle's second floor. Her face is expressionless, and I can't help but wonder what she'd be thinking if she were real.

"What are you thinking about?" a patient voice asks. I shift my gaze to Landon, my tutor. Truthfully, he is more than that. He's my best friend—my only friend.

"Nothing important." I sigh, returning my focus to the outside world. The sun is shining bright today, and I'd rather be getting some fresh air. "Can we finish the lesson outside?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"You aren't dressed," Landon says. I nod at the dismissal, running my fingers through a loose strand of my dark hair. There's been talk of permanently altering the color, but I'll never allow that. There are still some things they can't force me to do.

I am the Queen, after all.

"Diem?" Landon's voice brings me from my thoughts again, and I flinch at the use of my own name. It's been ten years since anyone has called me Aisling, yet somehow my royal name still rakes across my ears like gravel. "Did you want to get dressed?" he asks, choosing the words with care. Of course I'm already dressed, at least in the traditional sense. There is a more proper term for the problem he speaks of, but I suspect he thinks using a common phrase like getting dressed is preferable to implying an unacceptability in my natural appearance. His terminology offers the illusion of normalcy.

"No," I snap, immediately regretting my tone. "Let's just finish the lesson," I say, softer now, forcing a smile for his sake.

Landon runs his hand through his light blonde hair, a tick of his that indicates frustration. I haven't made life easy for him lately, refusing to participate in our lessons and skipping out early. Sometimes I don't show up at all. He's been tasked with the difficult job of preparing me for the public eye, this tall order bestowed upon him because he is the only person in the castle I have ever responded to amicably. Our arrangement is unusual, being that he has not yet come of age. It is typical for royals to be tutored and take their prayers with an Ancient, a member of our clergy. Landon is still a Novitiate. He won't be initiated into the Ancient Fold until he turns eighteen.

I began taking prayers with him ten years ago when I was brought inside. After exactly twenty-nine days in which I refused to say a single word to anyone, they had to try something new. Pairing me with Landon was based on the idea that I may relate better to someone my own age. Despite my best efforts to remain stubborn, it worked. Landon has an easy way about him, one that makes it almost impossible to refuse his kindness. His pale blue eyes command trust with ease, and he always seems to know exactly what I need. When I'm overcome by loneliness, he's there to shower me with attention. If I need space, he knows instinctively to leave me alone.  

Once I accepted him, the Ancients accelerated his education so he could in turn teach me. Next year he and I both turn eighteen. As I take the throne he will become an Ancient, staying alongside me as my trusted spiritual advisor. This, at least, is a small comfort to me. I've spent more collective time with Landon than anyone else in my entire life. He is the only person with which I'm truly at ease. I almost smile despite my foul mood, thinking of how he used to sneak into my room at night and tell me stories; how we used to spend hours devising elaborate plans to steal extra dessert from the kitchen instead of studying, despite the fact we'd likely have received it upon asking. The boy sitting across the table from me is as good as a brother.

I never got the chance to know my real brother.

The unwelcome words surface in my mind before I can stop them. I shake my head, trying to rid it of the pointless thought. Such a thing hardly matters now. All that matters is getting through the day—getting through tomorrow, and the day after that.