It started with a botched etiquette lesson.

Princess Hazel of Avaehan couldn't stand sitting perfectly still, her posture impeccably straight, her breathing utterly silent, her face flawlessly serene, as she poured a few cups of tea. She didn't even like tea, as much as she tried to make herself enjoy it.

Her governess and tutor, Julia, stood in front of Hazel, her eyes scanning every part of the princess for 'imperfections'.

Hazel supposed she liked Julia enough, as she was gentle and encouraging and a good teacher, but Hazel was also almost sixteen! She didn't need a governess anymore.

Then again, Julia had practically raised the princess by herself, after Hazel's mother had died. Hazel's father, the king, could never quite seem to forgive his daughter for one small thing: the fact that she was a girl.

Most modern monarchies had moved past the patrilineal line of succession, but Hazel's father was old-fashioned. His first wife, Hazel's mother, had only given him a daughter before she died of an illness when Hazel was around seven years old. Less than a year later, Hazel's father had remarried to a widowed noblewoman who had one son, two years younger than Hazel herself. The king seemed to favor his stepson as his successor over his own daughter, but the public saw Hazel as the rightful heir to the throne. Hazel's stepmother hated her for that. The princess couldn't ignore all the venomous glances that the new queen always threw her, all the condescending remarks and scoldings about the slightest mistakes. And the fact that she looked exactly like her mother, the former queen, who had been beloved by the kingdom, probably didn't help. She knew her stepmother wanted her own son on the throne, and she seemed like the kind of woman who would do anything to get what she wanted.

"Relax your shoulders," Julia said, her voice firm yet gentle. "Remember, grace and poise are essential qualities for royalty such as yourself."

Hazel wished she could roll her eyes, but that would only earn her more reproofs. She let the tension out of her shoulders as she set down the porcelain teapot.

Julia walked over to the table as Hazel held her posture. She picked up a teacup just as the doors to the royal classroom burst open.

Hazel jumped in her seat, but Julia simply looked up, like she was expecting the intrusion. The bright winter sunlight shone in Hazel's face, but she didn't squint.

Hazel's stepmother, Queen Andrea, walked into the room, her long dark green dress trailing behind her. Her long brown locks were held up in an intricate web of curls, braids, and hairpins, on top of which was her crown. Dark green jade earrings hung from her ears, and a matching jade and gold necklace was set at her throat. As always, she wore too much makeup that was expected for a lady of high class, with smoky green eyeshadow and dark red lipstick. Hazel couldn't see her feet, but she knew her stepmother wore those ridiculously high stilettos that Hazel couldn't even take three steps in.

Hazel stood, and Julia curtsied, as was expected. With a flick of the queen's wrist, Julia was dismissed from the room.

Hazel froze in place, almost not daring to breathe as the queen circled around her, like a predator around its prey. Her stepmother paused in front of the table.

"The tablecloth is crooked," she noted.

Hazel tried not to glare daggers at her as she continued.

"This teacup has too much tea in it. This one isn't filled up enough. You didn't take the cap off the sugar basin. And," she lifted a teacup to her lips and took a sip. "The tea is too weak."

Hazel sighed internally. Nothing would ever please this woman. Last week the tea had been 'too strong', according to her.

"Come now," the queen said. "Practice your curtsy."

Hazel didn't understand why her stepmother wanted to teach her etiquette every so often, if not just to rub in her face how imperfect she was compared to her. But nevertheless, she didn't dare disobey. Her steps were silent as falling snow as she walked to stand in front of the queen.

She lifted her skirts and lowered herself in her best curtsy, then stood back up straight. The queen simply clicked her tongue.

"Remember to bow your head more. Use only three fingers on each hand to raise your skirts. Also, you need more makeup."

Hazel hated makeup. She considered what she'd allowed Julia to put on her face that morning to be more than enough.

"Your corset isn't tight enough, and I don't know why you even bother with such a dress. Also-"

At this point, Hazel tuned her stepmother out. None of her other high-ranking girl friends (not that she had many) had to wear corsets. And the dress was a gift from the princess of Kostka, the closest kingdom to Avaehan. Kostka's Princess Christine was Hazel's best friend, even though they could only see each other in the summers when Christine was on summer break. She went to Chalice Well High, one of the top boarding schools for privileged children. The other top school for royals was Monmouth, in Besamor, which was a few hours' flight from Avaehan. Hazel and her stepbrother didn't go to any school; instead, they had private tutors.

Christine and Hazel took turns visiting the other. Last summer, it had been Christine who'd come to Avaehan for a week. It had been the highlight of Hazel's summer. The rest of the time, they would call and text each other, or exchange a few letters every so often.

Christine had sent Hazel the dress for her birthday, and it was her favorite by far. It was made of light blue silk with delicate white embroidery on the sleeves, neckline, and hem. Sure, it was simple compared to her other dresses, but it was its simplicity that Hazel loved the most. It wasn't heavy, but it kept her warm enough. And she didn't have to wear a hoop skirt underneath it. She didn't even have to wear a corset, but Julia had insisted on it.

"You're a member of the royal family. You must be perfect in every way," The queen concluded. Hazel had heard those lines a countless amount of times. She swept out of the room, but Hazel's frustration didn't leave with her. She curled her gloved hands into fists.

The room darkened like the sun had just slipped behind a cloud. A glance out the window confirmed that- even though a minute ago, Hazel could've sworn the sky was clear. Julia hurried back in, looking worried. Hazel unclenched her hands, and behind her back, the cloud dispersed.

"I don't understand why Father married her," Hazel said as she cleaned up the table. "She does nothing all day but coddle Theodore, and occasionally lecture me about 'the proper princess way'." She put air quotes around the last phrase.

Julia sighed. "I know it's hard for you, but someday it'll make sense. These are important lessons-"

"Because I'm a princess, next in line for the throne," Hazel finished. "Yeah, I know."

If it had been the queen, she would've locked Hazel in her room for using such a disrespectful tone, but thankfully, Julia wasn't like that. She was strict when she needed to be, but she understood the princess. More than the queen ever would.

"Your mother was the same way," Julia said. "She hated all this traditional stuff."

Hazel raised her eyebrows.

Julia sighed again. "I'll clean this up. Your lessons for today are finished."

Hazel grinned and raced up to her room, the tallest tower of the royal palace. Thoughts of her mother filled her head.

It had been almost an entire decade since her mother had passed. She felt like the memories of her were slipping away every year as she got older. One memory though, managed to stay clear as day in her mind: Hazel and her mother around a year before she'd died, riding in the extensive palace gardens. The tall rose bushes were her mother's favorites.

"Why do you call me Solana?" Little Hazel had asked.

Solana was the name only Hazel's mother called her. It meant sun. Hazel's father had named her Hazel, after his late grandmother, but Hazel's mother had given her the middle name Solana.

"The plants need the sun to grow," her mother had said. "As such, the people will need you, Solana."

If only Mom could see me now, Hazel thought as she climbed the top step into her room. It was large and circular, shaped like a tall cylindrical cone. The walls were painted a light periwinkle, and thin white curtains covered the tall windows.

Hazel took out her phone and blasted some music over the speaker system she'd talked her father into installing for her. One of the many pluses of having a room so far removed from the rest of the palace was that no one could hear her, no matter what she did up here.

As quickly as she could, Hazel changed from her dress and slippers to her riding jodhpurs, white shirt, and black riding boots. She took her black hair out from her braid, letting it fall freely down her back and over her shoulders, and washed her face free of makeup. The only thing she left on was a small gold necklace with a sun-shaped pendant set with an opal in the center. Her mother had given the necklace to her when she was a baby. 

She opened the cage where she kept her snow-white pet rabbit, Chione.

"Here, Chi-Chi," she coaxed the rabbit into her arms, taking her out from the cage. "You wanna go riding today?"

She took the rabbit's silence as a yes and grabbed a baby carrot from the mini-fridge she had for Chione.

Hazel stuck her phone in her pocket and ran down to the palace stables, where her favorite horse, a grey speckled mare named Calpurnia, was waiting. Calpurnia had been her mother's favorite horse. She'd been the first horse Hazel had learned to ride, and even though she was older now, she was still free-spirited and loved to go fast. Hazel's type of horse.

She rode Calpurnia out into the gardens, with Chione sitting in a special black sling-like purse that Hazel wore across her chest.

Even though the trees were bare and there were no flowers blooming, the gardens were definitely Hazel's favorite place. No one was ever out here. Her stepmother and stepbrother couldn't stand the bugs and pollen in the springtime, and her father was always too busy running the kingdom to take a walk. And, well, no one ever bothered with the bare garden in the winter anyway.

All of a sudden, Calpurnia whinnied and reared. Hazel grabbed the reins to avoid being thrown.

"Whoa!" She cried.

The horse backed up a few steps, and then Hazel saw him.

A tall dark-skinned man stood only a few paces away, seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, wearing a black hoodie and track pants with grey stripes down the sides. His dark eyes and short curly hair gleamed in the sunlight.

Hazel didn't understand how he had gotten there. The entrance to the garden was behind her, and she was fairly certain the place had been empty when she'd ridden in. Plus, the palace gardens were only open to the royal family, palace workers, and guests, of which this man didn't seem to be.

She managed a friendly smile. "Hello."

The man only nodded sharply. "Brace yourself, Princess. Everything you know is about to change."

Before she could even think to ask him what that meant, there was a flash of light and a quiet whizzing sound, and the man was gone.