CHAPTER TWO

The orange and red beams of light from the sunset shone in through the large window as Adela stared at her reflection in the mirror. The rays of sunshine caught the silk dress, caressing every smooth curve softly and portraying it in its best light. She turned and looked at her back. Half of it was bare, with two gemstones connecting two long trains to her shoulders. She grunted in distaste.

According to her parents, the flowing white silk dress she wore looked absolutely divine on her body.

"The gown could never look more perfect on anyone. It looks as if the Gods themselves fashioned each thread with only our angel in mind," Queen Amira had sung before she left her daughter's chamber. Her father also believed she was some sort of pure angel - one who did no wrong and told no lies. He didn't realise how absurd he sounded to his daughter. Her previous life told no stories similar to that of the King's memory.

Adela had never been one to throw herself into her riches. Being a princess and an only child was a path undesirable to her. She had dreamed of a small home with a warm burning fire; a sweet smiling mother baking bread and feeding a little baby girl; boys running around playing and fighting while girls sat quietly sewing skirts and playing with dolls. Then a father would come home from an honest day's work and the house would be whole again.

She would much rather enjoy the weather outside on a beautiful summer's day than be stuck inside trying on dresses and gowns. She would roam the towns markets or take a walk by a stream. Lay in the flowers of a distant valley with the wind in her hair and a song in her heart. Even if she was forced to do as she was told and attend the ball, she would prefer a far less superficial event.

The annual Angels Crossing Ball was a popular event Colegrave. Everybody dressed in their fanciest and most expensive breeches and ball gowns. Priorities of all were to impress. There was not a day in the week that wasn't filled with festivities and never a person who didn't become more intoxicated than necessary.

Adela was not one to participate in such activities, she didn't do well with the tastes and effects of strong liquor - the only available in the castle. The rest of the kingdom, however, was ablaze with lights and magic. Spell casting was at its peak during Angels Crossing: fire and light spells and a few to many love charms.

The thought of the whole ordeal made Adela scowl and grumble again, but she was interrupted with quick, quiet knocks on the door of her bed chamber. She huffed one last time at her attire for the ball, before calling out to the person waiting for admittance. "You may enter!"

A young, bashful maid entered hastily into the room balancing a tray on her hands, overcrowded with breakfast: a dish with two rolls of crusted bread; a steaming bowl of vegetable soup; a small portion of dry roasted pork drizzled in a watery and very unattractive sauce. The young maid set the tray down with a curtsy, "Good mornin', Your Highness."

"What have I told you, Odette? Adela is the name I was given and the only title I expect," the Princess told her off sternly, yet cursed the guilt that washed over her when Odette bowed her head meekly and mumbled a small, inaudible apology.

She strode in the maid's direction, placing confident, comforting hands on her shoulders to reassure her that the mistress was not to be feared, "It is okay, I'm not angry at you. In fact, Odette, I value you very much."

"You do? Your High-" Adela raised an eyebrow, "I mean Adela."

"Yes, Odette - I do," she turned away and walked back to face the tall mirror, twisting her waist to observe the back of the gown again. The aversion was still evident in her downturned lips and wrinkled brows. "What do you think of my gown for the Angels Crossing celebration?"

"I think you look breathtakingly beautiful," she said, a bright smile spread across her face as her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. Just the permission to call the Princess by name made her visibly relax and Adela's guilt soon dispersed.

"Is that so? I do not like it. It is too... elegant," Adela snarls, scrutinising herself again and trying to find a good way to look at the gown, but not succeeding.

"Ain't elegant what you're meant to look like at a formal event?" Odette joined Adela at the mirror and looked at her floor length hand uniform. The black, unflattering dress hung off of her shoulders. A white apron with a lace trim was wrapped around her waist tightly but it still did not reveal a glimpse of her true figure. Her face dropped slightly until she glanced back at the white gown on her mistress. She looked longingly at it with suppressed desire.

"You can have it," said Adela.

"Have what? Your dress?" She asked, bewildered.

"Yes. You can have it. I'm sure I can find another," the Princess confirmed, reaching a hand out and dismissing Odette when she shook her head, "Don't argue with me. You are having it, and that is my final decision."

"I'm not arguin', Your Highness," Adela frowned at the title again but did not interrupt her. "It's just... your dress won't fit me, you see. You're much taller than me and my figure's like one of a twig." She stared down at herself with a countenance of discomfort.

"That's not a problem, Odette. I can have a dress fitted for you to match my one. You will be attending with me, won't you?" Adela asked her and she nodded quickly.

"I will be, but I've been given orders to only act as your helper. I'm working at the ball."

"Not anymore. I'll make sure you attend as one of my invited guests. You shouldn't have to work on what is supposed to be such an enjoyable night," She assured with a smile, which Odette returned happily.

"Thank you... Adela," she beamed, before turning to leave the chamber, "Oh, don't forget to eat your breakfast. Sir Raymond says to all the castle helpers that you've not been eating enough."

Adela lifted her chin and spun around indignantly. "I don't care much for Sir Raymond's opinion, Odette. You of all people should know this."

"I know, Adela. I know," she left the room as she entered, hastily pulling the door closed behind her.

The Princess sighed, staring at herself in the mirror once more before pulling the dress from her shoulders and letting it slip to the floor. She picked it up and straightened it on her bed before striding over to her armoire to prepare for the rest of the morning. As she passed the door, she pulled her dressing gown from it's hook and draped it over her shoulders.

"I agree, Your Highness, but I do think that we'll not be able to catch as much as we usually do."

The familiar voice echoed through the walls from outside of the large room. Adela's natural curiosity peaked and she stopped her motions. She moved closer to her door carefully, leaning her ear against the tough regal wood. The man continued to talk and she listened on as she tried to recall the face that matched the deep rumbling voice.

"Your team always catch more than enough each year. We always have leftovers. Whatever you catch shall be a sufficient amount," another rough voice replied and at once Adela identified her father. She held her breath, trying to receive every word being said on the other side of the door.

"That I do not agree with, Your Majesty. We need at least three more hunters to even catch half of what we caught last year," The voice said to the King again, this time with increasing desperation. Adela knew that the voice - whoever it may have been - was better off not trying. Her father was a stubborn man and she was more than a living example.

"I am not going to win with you, am I Flint?" King Jude sighed softly.

Flint.

He was the appointed leader of Colegrave's royal hunting clan, who were tasked with hunting game for every event held at the castle. Angels Crossing was one of their biggest responsibilities. Adela couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the hunters.  Men known for their integrity and hard work had somehow disappeared.

"Your Highness. I do not think you will be pleased with our catch if we only come back with a deer and a few fire pheasants," Flint said with a small chortle to his voice. Typical Flint - always making the conversation light. Flint had that certain comfortable aura; one that could make you laugh about the end of the world.

"Perhaps you are correct," King Jude said, defeated, "Gather our troops and you can pick from them. I know they are not trained for hunting but I'm sure you and the rest of the clan can teach them."

Flint needed hunters and King Jude had a soft spot for the clan leader. A spontaneous idea sprung to my mind and before even she knew it, Adela had flung the door open.

She glanced at Flint after fully realising what she had done and she could see his eyes widen and his cheeks flush. Her father was also frozen in shock but it was too late to cower and hide in her bed chamber now. She looked at her father, lowering her eyes under his harsh glare.

After strange seconds of tense silence, King Jude was the first to speak, "Adela, may I ask why you are standing outside with nothing more than a robe on?"

"You may, father. I wanted to tell you something," she answered, pushing forward her proud façade and pulling her shy, self-conscious one back away from the surface.

"Could this information not wait until you were dressed?" He asked again, folding his arms uncomfortably.

Adela spared another glance at Flint. He was silent, trying his hardest to avoid meeting her eyes and shuffling around. He was extremely nervous - embarrassed even – which gave Adela a certain rush of confidence.

"No," She told her father positively. "It cannot wait."

"Well get on with it then," he urged and she paused, not knowing how to express herself without angering her father. So she let go, and allowed her words to flow freely. In that moment the opinions of the King and Queen, Sir Raymond and all the castle gossip had left her mind. In that moment she was honest and absolute.

"I want to be a hunter."