Royal Blood

I: Adelaide

"It's better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not."
~ Marilyn Monroe

*Adelaide's P.O.V.*

I leaned over the ornate rails of my lofty balcony, resting my chin on my hand as I lazily observed the afternoon bustle of the village below.

Peasant children played noisily in the streets, scampering after one another as they took on the roles of the knights and kings that they could only ever be in their wildest dreams. They darted around and under the market place stalls like so much vermin, drawing curses and shouts of annoyance from the irate villagers they were menacing. I watched the simple townsfolke haggle for mere pennies before gathering up their meager prizes in their filthy, calloused hands to take back to their families. Another dollar, another pointless, fruitless day wasted in their short, scared lives. The last of the ruckus died down quickly as the people made their way back to their homes for the night.

"Pathetic," I murmured, tracing the thick black steel of the balcony railing.

"Now, Adelaide," chided a familiar voice at my back. I turned around to see my mother standing at the
threshold between my room and the balcony. Her long black hair
cascaded in gentle curls down her back, blown softly by the wind in tandem with her delicate gossamer dress, giving her a regal, ethereal look. She walked closer with a few graceful strides to brush a curl of my own ash blonde hair behind my ear.

"Pathetic they may be, but it is they who provide our livelihood as royalty," she reminded me gently with a pat to my cheek.

"Why are you up so late, mother?" I asked. She was never fond of late nights.

"Last minute preparations for the Blood Sky Ball, darling. I have a feeling this year's celebration will be exceptional," she said, giddy excitement vibrating in her tone at the prospect. Or a travesty, I thought.

I forced a tight smile. The Blood Sky Ball was a traditional celebration that the kingdom of Vorena hosted every year. This particular ball was thrown whenever the red moon rested directly above our kingdom every fifteen years. I was only five at the time of the last ball, so I didn't remember much of the lively event other than nearly passing out from exhaustion near the end. I had learned a bit about the subject from my tutor, Marcus, but I knew that words on a page and reality were worlds apart.

All of the upper class nobles would be there, esteemed guests from far and wide; knights, princess and princesses, earls and deans,and, most importantly, King Dark. For as long as I can remember, Dark has been the only ruler of the Kingdom of Servilia.

"And remember, your betrothed will be there, so please, for the love of all that is unholy, be nice." my mother said, giving me an endearing smile, "Now get some rest; tomorrow is a big day for us both."

With that, my mother disappeared in tendrils of ethereal silver smoke.

Ah yes, my betrothed. Dark. My mood turned sour at my mother's well-meaning reminder.

King Dark was among my parent's closest friends. And so when I was born, my parents had the brilliant idea to betrothe Dark and I, binding us together, trapping us, without either of our consent. Though Dark adamantly disagreed, my parents insisted, and you never say no to my parents. When I reached my twenty first year, I would be forced to marry him. At twenty four, it would be my 'duty as his wife' to conceive, carry, and birth the next heir to the Servilian throne.

That little tradition had existed as long as the kingdom of Vorena itself. Unfortunately, I had serious doubts that the norm would bend to the whims and wishes of one so called 'selfish and rotten' daughter of a demon. Ha! Please. I took those little jabs as compliments.

Sighing, I closed the thick black curtains that separated my room from the balcony and crawled into bed, trying to clear all thoughts of the following day from my mind. My effort turned out to be unnecessary; I was out like a light almost the second my head hit my black and purple silk pillows.

It was going to be a long day.