— Chapter Two —

Ebony

Miss Alice was putting Aurora to bed when she said, “I’ll come wake you before the crack of dawn, so you and your family arrive in the Solar Kingdom with plenty of time to prepare for the ball.”

Aurora said nothing.  She was used to being awake that early but would not be able to make her regular trip into the woods.

Miss Alice gave a concerned, “Goodnight, Princess,” and exited the chamber.

Aurora lay there in the candlelight, mulling it over: If I head out now, rather than my usual time, I could be back at the castle for the journey.  And having seen those boot prints in the dirt…

Despite being exhausted from her prolonged magic lesson, which had been followed up by several goblets of wine, the princess pulled herself out of bed.  

She was just about to fetch her tall, black lace-up boots when—Whiz, whiz, whiz!—had something just flown past her?  

She grabbed the lantern from her nightside table and whipped around.  

Nothing.  

Must have been the wind.  She walked over to her wardrobe and began lacing up her boots.

Upon finishing, it came again: Whiz, whiz, whiz!

Aurora jumped up from the cushioned stool she had been sitting on and held the lantern high.  She stared around her dimly lit chamber.

Once again, nothing.  

“I don’t have time for such nonsense!” she said aloud, to hopefully no one.

Whiz, whiz, whiz!  

There was definitely something, or someone, there. 

Whiz, whiz, whiz!   

Perhaps a noble girl really was playing some kind of trick on her this time.  

Whiz, whiz, whiz!  

What in all of the Cosmos could—

WHACK!  

Whatever it was, it hit her straight on the forehead. 

Aurora fell backwards onto the stool.  Clasping her hand to the spot where the mystery item assaulted her, she cried, “Curses of the Underworld!  That hurt!”  

It was then that the thing revealed itself:

“A broomstick!”

It must have been jinxed to fly independently because there it was, hovering in the air, and the Mundane Princess was certainly not making that happen!

Aurora had never seen a broomstick this colour: jet black with silver embellishments.  She could not deny its beauty: slender, elegant, and made of ebony wood.  Whoever crafted it must have been exceptionally skilled, for the wood looked smooth as silk.  The most peculiar aspect of the broom, however, was at the base; right by the end you would use to sweep, a little crescent moon with the face of an elderly woman had been carved into the wood.  It, too, had been embellished with silver.

Now, of course, Aurora had not been taught how to fly, but this broom could clearly fly itself.  And flying was something she had always thought looked fun—or at the very least, the skill would be useful for getting to the forest in good time.  Which is what she needed tonight.  Perhaps this was a gift from the Cosmos; it was as though the divine knew how desperately she needed her time in the woods before a day such as tomorrow.

She could not believe she was actually considering it.  She hesitated, reminding herself she was, in fact, a mundane, and she should not be risking her life, flying around on a broomstick.  But then again, even if she could not control the object, if it got close enough to one of the trees, she could try to jump onto a branch and climb her way down.  And despite the broom assaulting her, she felt strangely drawn to it.  So without any further thought, she climbed on the broom, hoping it would take her towards Secret Glade.

However, as soon as the broomstick flew out her chamber window, Aurora shut her eyes tightly.  Here she was, a mundane, flying on a broomstick!  What had she been thinking?  This was mad!  Surely she was asking for death.  Immediately regretting it, she knew she had to get off the broom at once.

She opened her eyes, only to see that the broomstick had taken her high into the air, far above the castle’s tallest tower.  There was no way she could get down.  

But just as she was in need, it kicked in, a feeling of—she could not believe it—comfort!  Despite being so high up, Aurora felt safe.  The broom flew so gracefully and smoothly through the night air.  The wind whistled on her face.  Her heart was racing, but she wasn’t panicked, only exhilarated.  The misfit princess wished she had taken more care in her lessons on the Constellations as, from all the way up here, the Stars were clearer than ever. There were only a few things that felt as good as flying: singing, swimming and any time she spent in the woods.  She was on top of the world.  

Aurora felt so euphoric that she almost no longer cared where the broom took her.  She enjoyed being high in the air so much that she would have been okay just spending the next few hours up here, whizzing around in whatever direction the broom decided.

To her surprise, however, the broom suddenly zipped towards the forest, and began to lower itself in the very spot with which she was so familiar.

Aurora was so stunned by the whole ordeal that even when the broom lowered itself sufficiently, she did not plant her feet on the ground.  Was it possible that the broom could have taken her here, to Secret Glade, intentionally?   

The animals came out to greet her.  Seeing her perched on the broomstick, still hovering in the air, they looked just as puzzled as the Mundane Princess felt.

She shook her head and hopped off the broom.  The thing did a couple of loop-the-loops, and Aurora expected it to take off again.  But the broom hovered in the air, as though waiting for the girl to go about her usual routine.

“A—alright, then,” Aurora stuttered.

She hesitated, wondering, Is the broom watching me?

Then she gave her head a shake and decided, Brooms can’t see! 

Aurora sang the animals song after song, and they embraced one another, as they always did—the only difference being the ebony broom hovering in the background.

At the very end of the visit, the princess reminded her friends of the royal ball: “Now, I won’t be able to visit tomorrow.  I know, I don’t want that either.  But I don’t have any choice in the matter; I told you about how I’m being forced to go meet Prince Daniel.”

After their farewell—which included a particularly long embrace from Buttercup—Aurora got ready to make her return trip.  

She was just climbing back onto the broom when it darted out from under her.  Thud!  Her bottom hit the mossy forest floor.  

Displeased, she looked up to confront the broom, but then realised that it was gesturing towards something.  

No, brooms can’t do that, she reminded herself.

Aurora had just turned away to begin her journey back to the castle by foot, when she heard a rustling in the bushes behind her.  Alarmed, she whipped around.  

Who would dare to interrupt her special time in Secret Glade?  Was it the folkian who had left the boot prints she had seen that very morning?

“He—hello?” she stammered.

Nothing.  It must have just been the wind.

But then it came again, the same rustling noise in the bushes.

“Who’s there?!”

The rustling noises continued, but they were growing more and more distant until…

“Well, whatever it was, it’s gone now,” Aurora said aloud, partially to reassure the animals, but also to reassure herself.

The broom, however, was still bopping towards whatever it had been bopping towards before, which just so happened to be the exact same location the rustling noise had come from.  

All too curious, Aurora tiptoed across the mossy glade, towards the broom.  She stepped into the moon’s light, which illuminated the ground beneath her.  In the silver glow of the Starry sky, Aurora could see what the broom had been gesturing towards: a magic wand.

It was just like the broom: black, made from ebony wood, with silver embellishments, and most mysteriously, the same little crescent moon with the face of a crone had been carved into the wood on its lower half.  

The broom bopped its stick towards the wand, and then turned itself around and made the same gesture to Aurora.

“Uh, I guess you want me to take this?” she asked.

The broom nodded—or rather, it moved its stick up and down.

Aurora said, “Alright then,” but was still puzzled.

Ebony wands and brooms…  She had never seen this kind of wood used for either of these things, nor had she ever seen moons carved into anything.  All the noble-workers, the members of the Solar Allegiance, they had Suns embellished on their wands.  No one would dare have a moon!  And a broomstick that appeared to be able to communicate with her?  She wondered if all the liquor was rendering her mad.

Aurora gave one last farewell to the animals, and then climbed back onto the broom, which started whizzing towards the castle.  

She had to admit she was a little curious about this ebony wand…  However, she knew it was best not to get her hopes up.  She had tried thousands upon thousands of magical tools, and none of them had ever worked for her.  If this broom honestly thought—if brooms could think, that was—that this wand was going to solve all her problems, it was mad.

Aurora decided not to try it out immediately.  She was very tired from her extended lesson.  She could give it a whirl another day, when she was better rested.

Sure enough, the broom carried the princess to her balcony.

When Aurora hopped off the thing, she gave an awkward “Well, my thanks!” even though she knew there was no way, not in all the curses of the Underworld, that the ebony broom could actually hear her.

Then, from her open window, she watched the broom fly off into the distance and disappear in the tall Greenlandian trees.

It had been the strangest night of Aurora’s life.  She was, however, too exhausted to ponder it further.  And so the Mundane Princess climbed under her covers, placed the ebony wand under her pillow, and fell asleep the moment she closed her eyes.

*

Aurora awoke on a hard surface, not the soft cushion of her mattress.  She sat up and looked around.  There was the usual darkness of her chamber, mildly lit by the glow of lanterns.  She noticed Miss Alice had laid out a few more than usual.  

Groggy, Aurora rubbed her eyes.  Upon pulling her hands away from her face, she realised the soft glow was not coming from lanterns after all; instead it was the twinkling of Starlight.  

She glanced over her right shoulder and saw something unbelievable: an orb floating below her.  The orb looked like it was made of blue and green marble, with strokes of white at both its top and bottom.  The figure looked like something she had seen drawings of in books from magic lessons.  She shook her head, attempting to dismiss her thoughts, because what she was thinking was utterly mad…  

It looked as though the orb was the planet of New-Camelot.  But that was impossible, was it not?

Aurora looked down at what should have been her four-poster bed, complete with its sheets of golden silk, but instead, underneath her was molten rock with a silver glow.  

Bewildered, she cried, “Where am I?!”

Aurora gazed up at the constellations again and then back down at the molten rock.  I’m on top of the moon.

Down by her right, Buttercup was perched, fast asleep.  To her left was the ebony wand, complete with its silver embellishments and the little carving of the crone-faced moon.

But how could I have got up here?  And then, as though to answer her question, out from the dark side of the moon, the ebony broom came whizzing toward her.

“Why did you take me here?” Aurora called to it—even though she knew talking to the broom was mad.

The ebony broom just kept gesturing towards the wand that lay beside Aurora’s left leg.

“You want me to pick it up?”  Why am I talking to a broomstick?

The broom nodded just as it had back in the woods, bopping the front of itself up and down.

Aurora stretched out her arm to grab the wand, but despite the fact that it was right next to her, she could not reach it.  Confused, she tried again.  And again.  And again.  She tried over and over, but every time she tried to reach the wand, it was just a smidgen too far away.

But Aurora’s frustrations were forgotten when golden light flooded her vision, eradicating the silver light of the moon.  The Sun was flying directly towards her.  About to crash right into the moon, it was undoubtedly going to destroy not only the rock but the Mundane Princess as well.

This had to be stopped.  But how could it?  The wand was still out of reach.

And then the voice came, bright and merry: “Princess Aurora!  Princess Aurora!”

Surely whoever was there realised what was happening.

“Help me!” Aurora cried, and she darted her head around, trying to see where the speaker was.

But no one revealed themselves; she and Buttercup were all alone.

The Sun was drawing nearer now.  Aurora had never felt such a heat—this had to be even hotter than the Deserted Desert.  She held up her hand.  It was melting into a waxy gel.  She darted her head towards Buttercup.  His whimpers pained Aurora—just as it did seeing him already halfway melted into a pile of bubbling goop.

“No!  Cosmos!  Please!”  

“Princess Aurora!”

The person calling must have been able to hear her.  

“Help us!  Please!”

“Princess Aurora!  Dawn is nigh!  It is time to rise!”

Again, Aurora extended her hand, which was bubbling from the great heat.  The sun was so close now.  If I could just reach the ebony wand…

A lantern hung directly in front of her, candle burning brightly, golden wax tumbling down its sides.

“Happy Morningtide, Your Majesty!”  

Miss Alice’s beaming face was only a few inches from the princess’s.

Aurora wished she was hidden in the woods, waiting for dawn to strike so she could have her Morningtide swim in Secret Lake.  Why did she instead have to be here in her chamber with Miss Alice?  Another pink gown—really?  And another braid with even more pink ribbons than yesterday’s.

“You will look so beautiful for Prince Daniel,” Miss Alice assured her—although Aurora did not find this the slightest bit reassuring.  Then the maid looked at Aurora almost pitifully and added, “He really is the ideal suitor, Princess—any girl would long to marry him.”

Aurora wondered if Miss Alice wished she herself were the one meeting the prince.  In fact, Miss Alice was so caught up in her infatuation, rambling on about ‘how fortunate Aurora was to be meeting Prince Daniel’, that she did not notice when the Mundane Princess pulled the ebony wand out from under her pillow and slipped it into one of her tall lace-up boots.

Last night’s events were bizarre.  That little crone-faced moon—had the ebony wand conjured the nightmare?  It was probably just coincidence.  Aurora knew there was no use in hoping this wand would be any different from the thousands of others she had tried.  Yet she could not stop herself from bringing it along to the capital.

Once properly dressed, Aurora was escorted down to the dining hall.  The royal family ate a quick meal of roasted chestnuts and freshly picked apples before embarking on their long journey.  

Flying cut the time down significantly, but it would still take a while to get there.  The Greenlandian Castle was as far west as you could go, located right by the shore.  When Aurora wasn’t running off into the forest to swim in Secret Lake, she would jump in the ocean to search the coral reefs for treasure and play with the dolphins, seals, and otters—among other undersea creatures.

Wherever Aurora went, the animals seemed to love her, and likewise, she loved the animals.  This was another contrast between her and the house of Green.  To the rest of the Greens, animals were simply another tool, and the unicorns that pulled their carriage were no exception: 

Aurora watched in horror as the coachman whipped the two winged creatures.  They were bright silver with manes in every colour of the rainbow and, despite being whipped, they gracefully pulled the carriage across the castle courtyard.  The unicorns trotted faster and faster with each whip.  They bolted towards the wall that surrounded the castle, charging so quickly it appeared as though they were going to crash the carriage right into the stone.  However, with a particularly strong crack of the whip, the unicorns jumped up into the air and began flapping their wings, carrying the carriage high above the Greenlandian Kingdom.

Over the trees of the Greenlands they soared, the castle and Greentown far beneath them.  The exterior of the carriage was the signature Greenlandian green with a vibrant golden lining, and the interior was a reverse: golden with green lining.  

Aurora adjusted in her seat, loathing the puffy golden cushion beneath her.  She had only ridden in the carriage a few times.  Her family travelled to the capital fairly often, but they did not take the Mundane Princess with them.  This would be her first visit to the capital since she was an infant.  

Aurora was perfectly happy with that arrangement: her staying behind as the rest of her family travelled off to the Solar Kingdom, both for regal work and regal pleasure.  

Well, actually, that wasn’t entirely true.  Much to her dislike, there was something about the Solar Kingdom that piqued her curiosity: she knew she had a cousin who resided in the capital.  

By blood, he was her mother’s nephew, and because her father had no siblings, he would be next in line to the Greenlandian Throne, should something happen to Prince Jonathan.  

Allegedly, Aurora had met this cousin of hers during infancy, but she had no recollection of the boy.  She hadn’t even been told his name.  Her parents must have really not wanted her to know anything about him, for they hadn’t even told Prince Jonathan, and they usually gave Jonathan everything his heart desired.  

All she knew about this mysterious cousin was that he lived in the capital with the Imperials, and that, after the untimely death of his mother, Emperor Sola had offered to raise him as one of his own.  “Our holy leader has the biggest heart!” her parents would claim.

Aurora did not know why her mother had not wanted to raise her own blood nephew.  Of course they had the means, so Aurora figured it must have been something personal.  Her mother never spoke of her aunt.  In fact, Aurora didn’t even know her aunt’s name, let alone the name of her cousin… 

As a young child, Aurora would ask, “But Mother, how come Jonathan gets to travel to the capital and visit with our cousin, while I have to stay here with my maid?”

“Aurora, Jonathan will most certainly not be visiting with your cousin!”

“But why, Mother?  And why does he live with the Imperials and not here with us on the West Coast?”

“He may be family by blood, but he is no nephew of mine!  Thank goodness Emperor Sola is raising him as one of his own, so I don’t have to even think about the wretched boy!”

“But Mother, I don’t understand.  What did he—”

“Except for when you bring him up!  Now, silence, you foolish girl!  I will hear no more of it!”

Aurora had learned not to question the situation, and tried her best to forget that she had a cousin at all.  But now that she was on her way to the Solar Kingdom, privately, she wondered if she would finally get to meet him.

Still, the promise of a blood cousin, who could very well be just as foul as the rest of her family, was not enough to change Aurora’s feelings about their visit to the Interior.  Simply put: she did not want to go.  It felt like a waste of a perfectly good Summer’s day.  And unfortunately it would not be the Mundane Princess’s last trip to the capital. 

Even if Prince Daniel did not choose Princess Aurora to be his bride—which surely he wouldn’t—the princess would still be forced to go back to the capital in the Spring, for Ostara, when the folk of New-Camelot would celebrate their thirteen Suns of existence.  

Of course, their folk had resided on this planet for a longer period of time; the mages had arrived seven Suns before the Solar Revolution.  However, they were nearing their thirteenth year of Emperor Sola’s reign, their thirteenth Sun of living under the empire.  Why they had reverted back to the monarchy, although it had been the subject of repeated lessons, Aurora still did not entirely understand…

The princess shook her head and looked out the window of the carriage.  As the unicorns flapped their silver wings in toil, they pulled the cart through the soft clouds.  She could not remember the last time she had ridden in the family carriage.  It wasn’t nearly as thrilling as riding around on the ebony broomstick, but privately, Aurora admitted that the view of the Greenlandian Forest was breathtaking.  She would have quite enjoyed the ride had the unicorns not been forced to suffer.

“Father, is there no other way of getting the unicorns to take us up into the air?”

King James Green looked displeased at the very notion of another way of doing things.  “What do you mean, girl?  How else could it be done?”

Aurora hesitated.

“If you have no ideas, then I suggest you keep quiet.”

“Well, I just wonder if perhaps we could simply ask the unicorns to take us where we want to go?”

“Ask? You want me to ask the unicorns to take us to the Solar Kingdom?  As though they have a choice in the matter?”  He gave a horrible cackle.  “Doesn’t that sound absolutely ludicrous, Audrey?  Aurora just told me to ask the unicorns to take us to the Solar Kingdom!”

“Why, yes,” spoke Queen Audrey Green, in her fraudulent high-pitched voice, “that is quite ludicrous.  What a silly thing for a princess to think, indeed!”

“Entirely silly!  Mad really!”

“Why don’t you try it, Father?” spoke Prince Jonathan, only to further torment his sister.

“Yes, why don’t you?” Queen Audrey chimed in.

King James cleared his throat and called to the unicorn facetiously, “Excuse me, Mister Unicorn, sir.  Would you mind taking us to the Solar Kingdom?  Oh, what’s that?  You can’t understand or answer me because you’re just a stupid horse!  Of course, how could I forget?”

The whole carriage filled with laughter.  Even the coachman chuckled as he cracked his whip again, this time just to be cruel.

Aurora wished she had said nothing, but her father kept tormenting her: “You are my slave, horse, and you will take me where I need to go!  I need not ask; I simply order the coachman, my servant, to take me to the capital, and he whips you senseless until we arrive at our destination.  Anyone who thinks otherwise is mad!  You hear?  Mad!”

“Stop, stop!” cried Aurora.  Even though this was their usual dynamic, she felt overwhelmed by it all.

“Now, Aurora,” her father spoke again, this time very stern, “any unruly business during our stay at Emperor Sola’s castle, any questioning of things, and you will be severely punished when we arrive back home.  This is a big day, a big day indeed, and you will not ruin things!”

With that said, Aurora shut her mouth.  She knew that this was not the time (if there ever was one) to get into debates with her family.  

As she chewed on her tongue so hard it bled, her mother and father talked with Prince Jonathan about how his powers were coming along, indulging him in his ambitions of becoming an epic sorcerer.  

This would have annoyed Aurora, but it allowed her to look out the window and think about the woods without distraction.  

Even if she had been as talented as Prince Jonathan, how could she ever marry Prince Daniel and move to the Interior?  They had not even arrived at the Solar Kingdom, and already she couldn’t wait to be back in the forest.  No, her parents’ plan for her would never work.

She secretly longed to jump out of the carriage, but she knew she would plummet to her death—although meeting Death was starting to seem more appealing than meeting the Solar Prince.  She took great solace, however, in knowing that he would not choose her, and that she would never have to marry him.  

She was supposed to present him with magic—the very thing she could not do.  It was going to be utterly humiliating, of course.  But the real consequence would come from her parents, who were going to be absolutely furious with her when she let them down.

Honestly, though, how could they have put this much stock in her?  No royal or noble man would dare marry a princess without the powers of a sorceress!  Just as no royal or noble woman would dare marry a prince without the powers of a sorcerer!  This is how it was in the world of New-Camelot.  The royalty were the most powerful: the sorcerers and sorceresses.  And although they were burdened with the responsibility of keeping their territory safe, they were the only people with the privilege of using magic self-righteously.  

All the while, the noble men and women, despite being mages, did not possess this luxury.  They were less powerful folk.  However, they were still required to do many challenging magical tasks, as their job was to serve the royalty.  Their tasks often involved keeping their rulers safe, assisting them in their royal duties, and occasionally going on quests for them.  These were the working mages: the castle guards, the knights in shining armour, the scholars, the magic professors—even the coachman steering the unicorn-drawn carriage was a noble mage.

Next came the middle class: mundanes who had proven themselves worthy enough to work inside the castle, often as maids or in the kitchen.  This was considered a special privilege, for not only were they brought into the castle, they were brought in with the potential to one day be granted permission to use magic.  

Aurora suspected this was why Miss Alice took her job so seriously: in secrecy, she probably hoped that one day she could become a noble and be granted the powers of a mage.  However, Aurora could not think of one time a mundane had actually been given permission to practise magic. 

As Aurora gazed out the carriage window, she saw the peasants labouring hard on the farmland below, the lower-class.  These were the folks who grew the crops and did all the other manual labour.  And supposedly, the royalty protected them.  However, aside from regal hearings, Aurora could not think of a single time she had seen her parents interact with a peasant.

Hours passed.  Both the forest to the north and the farmland to the east seemed to stretch on and on forever.  Initially, Aurora had revelled in seeing all the untouched trees of her homeland; the Greenlands was not as developed as the Heartlands, let alone the capital.  Now, with the hot Lammas Sun shining through the glass windows, not to mention her family’s undesired company, the carriage was getting stuffy.  The pink gown Miss Alice had selected was sticking to the princess’s sweaty backside.  Funnily enough, Aurora was eager to arrive in the Solar Kingdom.

It was a relief when the rush of the Greenlandian River could be seen, and heard, below.  This huge river was located right on the edge of the Greenlandian Forest, and ran through a large valley that came out of the Greenlandian Mountains up north, travelling all the way down into the Tangleknot Jungle. 

“‘If lost in the Greenlandian trees, listen for the river’s call—for once at the river, now out of the woods’,” Aurora whispered, hypnotised by the flow.

Her mother did not approve: “What’s that, Aurora?”

“Oh, nothing—just remembering something I learned in lessons.”  But really, these words were from another favourite song.  And while Aurora had always known that the greeting of the river meant the farewell of the forest, it surprised her still just how quickly and easily the thickets of trees faded into a grassland of gold.  

The Greens were not in the prairies for long before they spotted the Solar Kingdom.  First came the tallest tower, located in the very centre of the castle.  Of course, it was decorated with the Imperial Sun, the Sun that bore that same face of a man.  Aurora did not have to be told that this was where Emperor Sola resided.  This structure appeared long before the rest of the kingdom revealed itself, as it was so tall that the tip of the tower was visible from exceptionally far away.  

Slowly, the rest of the capital castle began to reveal itself and, when the Greens were close enough, so did Sunnytown.

Even though Aurora was told she had been here as an infant, she had no recollection.  To her, this was a first-time experience.  From high in the air, Aurora had a great view of the castle.  She could not keep her jaw from dropping.  It was even more stunning than her family’s castle in the Greenlands, made of beautiful white stone and embellished with pearl.  There were towers three times as tall as her own, all decorated with the same Sun with the face of a man.  And stained glass windows with the most exquisite art, perfectly maintained gardens, and most beautiful of all, the castle was surrounded by a giant moat—the Magical Moat.

So this is what it looks like, thought Aurora, who had only ever seen paintings of the thing.  The moat would have appeared to be an ordinary castle moat, simply made to protect any regal leader, had the water in it not been every colour of the rainbow and sparkling.  

Because they were coming from the west, Aurora could see how the Magical Moat fed into a Magical Pond, located in the west gardens—the sacred gardens—Empress Esmeralda’s Gardens.

“See that moat, Jonathan?” her father said merrily.  “That’s what keeps magic safe in our hands, and out of the hands of any useless peasant who tries to step out of line.”

Aurora couldn’t help herself: “How are they useless?  Without them, we would have no crops to eat, no animals to feed from.”

Her entire family glared at her.

“Well, it just seems to me as though they do have ‘use’ to you—if you must use that word.”

Her father answered, “Aurora, you silly girl!  Do you not realise that we could use magic to harvest the crops?  We have all the mages working for us, and we are a family of talented sorcerers and sorceresses.”

“Well, at least some of us are!” Prince Jonathan sneered.

“Jonathan, your sister is a sorceress! She is just too stubborn to use her powers for anything other than getting into trouble.”

Aurora narrowed her brow. “Father, do you actually think that it’s beenmagic that has been getting me into trouble?  That’s ridiculous!”

“Oh, I don’t blame magic, Aurora—I blame your misuse of magic.”

“But I can’t even do magic!”

“Oh yes, of course, we believe that.  You, the daughter of a sorcerer and sorceress, both as powerful as the Sun, unable to practise magic.  Now, that is ridiculous!”

Aurora’s face was growing hot.  “Do you honestly think,” she started, in a tone just as heated, “what with growing up in this ridiculous, magic-obsessed family, who expects me to be just as powerful as the rest of our lot, that I wouldn’t do magic if I could?  Conjuring something—anything—would certainly make my life a lot easier!”

“Oh, Aurora, you are just being difficult!”

“No, I’m not!  You are!”  

She was getting so angry now that she stood up in the carriage, causing it to tilt lower on her side.

“Sit down, you silly girl!” her father ordered.

“You’re rocking the carriage!” her mother wailed.

“Aurora’s fat!” her brother exclaimed.

But Aurora was too wound up: “No, I won’t sit down!” 

“Aurora, sit down, please!” begged her mother.  “We are almost at the Solar Castle.  You are embarrassing us.”

Aurora couldn’t stand hearing this very common complaint yet again.  Maybe her lack of sleep was getting to her, but she wasn’t going to take their nonsense:  

“Going to the capital is the last thing I want to do on a beautiful Summer’s day like this!  Not in all the curses of the Underworld would I ever dream of visiting this wretched kingdom, let alone live in it!”

Her mother’s eyes filled with tears.  “But Aurora, how will you meet Prince Daniel?”

“I don’t want to meet a pompous ass like him!”

“But how could you know of his character?”

It was true that she hadn’t the slightest idea of what the mysterious Solar Prince was really like.  For all she knew, he could be the kindest boy in the world.  

But being so heated—and also perhaps because she was so tired—she was not in control of the words coming out of her mouth: “I don’t care!  He’s a prince and I don’t want to be a queen or an empress or any sort of regal leader!”

“Why do you reject us like this?  We’ve given you the best life a young girl could ask for!  What more could you want?”

“Not more—just different.”

As her mother wept, her father tried to fix things: “Aurora, you will meet Prince Daniel tonight, and you will be on your best behaviour, and you will present him with the best magic you can conjure—and one day, the Solar Kingdom will be your home!”

Now Aurora was livid.  No one deserved to be forced into marriage, and no one deserved to be directly compared to their peers—and no one deserved to have these things happen in front of the entire capital.  

However, it was the thought of saying goodbye to the Greenlands and making the Solar Kingdom her home that pushed her over the edge.  So overwhelmed by it all, Aurora could not make sense of what happened next:

Although she had not done anything—or at least she didn’t think she had—the carriage began to turn over more and more towards the side she was standing in, until eventually it flipped around entirely.  Somehow the unicorns were freed from their chains, and they soared off into the air.  The carriage spun in midair as gravity overtook it.  While her family and the coachman cried out in terror, Aurora felt enthused, just as she had on the ebony broom.  She did not care that they were about to—CRASH!

“Aurora!” bellowed her father, who had collapsed on his overly large stomach.  “This is precisely what I was talking about!  Magic used for all kinds of crazy, out-of-control nonsense!”

“Bu—but I didn’t—I mean, how could I have?”

“Well, who else would have done it?!” her father cried, pounding his fists on the ceiling of the upside-down cart.

“Well, maybe the unicorns have decided they’ve had it with being whipped!” Aurora retorted.

Red with anger, her father growled.  He looked as though he could have strangled her, but fortunately, resisted.  Instead, he stood up, brushed himself off and stepped out of the carriage.  Once he did, however, he wailed.  Quickly, her mother and her brother followed him, and the two of them proceeded to wail.

Curiously, Aurora stepped out of the carriage, only to find herself, too, giving a little wail.  The fragrance of rose was overwhelming.  They were in the garden that housed the Magical Pond—the sacred gardens—only now the gardens were destroyed.  The carriage had crashed into the rose bushes adorning the path that led to the rainbow pond.  Did I do this?

This, however, was not the worst of it: Aurora’s insides flipped upside-down upon noticing the statue of Empress Esmeralda—it was lying in pieces across the citrine pathway.   And the deceased ruler’s golden crown, embellished with the same Sun with the face of a man, had fallen onto the overly-maintained grass.

The trickle of the pond leading into the Magical Moat did not calm Aurora.  As capital servants gathered around the Greens, the midday Lammas Sun seemed hotter than ever.

“Your majesties,” spoke one of them, giving a low bow, “are you alright?”

Aurora stood still while the other three Greens began fixing themselves up.

“Yes, yes,” her father muttered, “we are fine, my thanks.”

Her mother—who had stopped crying out of shock—began weeping once again: “Oh, but the garden isn’t!  What will Emperor Sola think of this?”

For once, Aurora felt the same concern as her mother.  A few crushed rose bushes was one thing, and the girl would have undoubtedly found herself laughing about that later.  But to have broken the sacred statue of Empress Esmeralda, the deceased bride of their leader… 

Yes, Aurora too was wondering what Emperor Sola would think of such a thing, even if it had been an accident.

Just then, from behind one of the rose bushes that was still standing, came the emperor himself.  It was strange.  Aurora felt as though she had seen him before…  She had seen him before!  (And not just in regal portraits.)  A large nose, big lips, and one eyebrow raised just slightly.  The Sun with the face—it was his face!  Or at the very least, there was an eery resemblance between the two.  

And Emperor Sola resembled the Sun in more ways than one, as he was dressed from head to toe in blindingly yellow velvet robes and his hair was turning golden in his old age.  He also carried a golden staff that competed with him in stature.  Aurora was not surprised to see that it, too, had been decorated with a golden Sun; the embellishment sat right at the top, where the magic would be derived.

“And what will I think, Queen Audrey?” he spoke smoothly.  “What do you think I will think?”

Queen Audrey’s face went white as frost.  “E—Emperor Sola—I mean, Your Majesty!  I don’t know what to say!”

“Say nothing,” he insisted, shooting them all a flashy smile.  

Clearly, he was not mad, and Aurora found this very odd.  

Still beaming, he continued to drawl: “Why fret about a little mess when we could just…”—and he paused for a moment, to point his golden staff at the garden—“…clean it up?”  

He swished the staff around, drawing large circles with it.  Sparks in at least a dozen different shades of green exploded from the end of the staff, and the garden, as well as the statue of Empress Esmerelda, both began to reassemble themselves.  Within a few seconds, it looked the same—no, not the same—somehow, the garden looked even better than it had before!  The rose bushes looked fresher, as though the Lammas Sun had not yet dried them out.  The grass looked, somehow, even neater.  The statue, even shinier.

Then Emperor Sola shot his staff up in the air before proceeding to draw it downward.  He only had to do this thrice before the unicorns were pulled down onto the garden floor.  The coachman gave Emperor Sola a horrible smile and, once again, cracked his whip on the unicorns.

Her father gave a nervous chuckle.  “You see, Aurora, why would we need the peasants, when our powers are strong enough to, in mere seconds, do the work they slave away all day to get done?”

Aurora tried to think of a rebuttal.  She felt as though he was wrong, but she could not find a way to argue with him.  And even if she could think of something, it was best not to bring it up in front of the emperor.

Emperor Sola shot Aurora a puzzled expression, but she knew it was performative.  “Was there an issue around your daughter’s understanding of how our world works?”

Her father’s cheeks reddened.  “Oh, there was just a little confusion regarding the value of your average peasant.” 

The emperor fixed his face with a faux smile.  “But that’s all cleared up now, is it not, Princess Aurora?”

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” Aurora breathed.  

The Mundane Princess had only just met him, but already, she did not think much of Emperor Sola.

*

Warm rose-scented water met Aurora’s skin upon climbing into a bathtub at least three times the size of her own.  It might have been relaxing, had seven capital maids not been with her.  As they scrubbed the princess clean, Aurora felt bad for Miss Alice, all of whose efforts were wasted. 

Once she was dry, then came the wax.  Now this was painful: the feeling of melted candle being ripped off her skin, yanking out hair along the way.  However, Aurora had caused enough ruckus for one capital visit.  She did not complain—even when they used the stuff to thin her eyebrows!

Afterward, Aurora was forced into a golden gown, somehow more extravagant than anything she, the Greenlandian Princess, had ever been obliged to wear: a corseted top, a ridiculously large bustle, yellow citrine embellishments, and lined with real gold.  Very beautiful, indeed—however, it was laced up so tightly Aurora could hardly breathe.  

While she struggled to take in enough air, the maids fastened the upper half of Aurora’s long golden hair into an elaborate knot.  Then a strange iron device that had been heated on a stove was used to set what remained loose into waves, dangling below the knot.

They painted her face with all sorts of creams and powders—“To make you appear younger, dear,” explained the head maid.  As they coated her eyelids in a shimmery golden powder, Aurora struggled not to laugh.  She had not even lived fourteen Suns, and she was the youngest of the eligible princesses.  

Aurora had never before worn paint on her face.  She hated it, not just how ridiculous she looked, but the heavy feeling on her skin.  The Greenlandian folk did not wear painted faces, or at least did so in a very subtle manner.  

But the folk of the capital loved to make themselves up!  The Greenlandian Princess had seen many folk with eyebrows drawn over, faces powdered white as frost, cheeks decorated with circles of pink, and lips painted red as blood.  

What kind of person would want to alter their face with paint? she wondered, as the maids painted her own lips red.  Someone mad.  A kingdom of mad folk… a reminder of how far away she was from the forest…

Perhaps it was the gown, suffocating her like a snake from the Tangleknot Jungle—or perhaps it was the makeup, feeling heavier than the snowfall of Winter Whereabouts—but something about the golden slippers that were now being placed on Aurora’s feet were too much.

“No, I wear boots!”  And she ripped the slippers off.

Then it dawned on Aurora: her tall, black lace-up boots, sitting in the corner of the powder room…  The ebony wand—I forgot I brought it.

The maids tried to coax her back into the slippers: “Come on, Princess Aurora,” the head maid said, while the others held her down and slipped the shoes back on.  “Prince Daniel wants a princess whose footwear matches her ballgown.”

“Well, I think that is a ridiculous thing to look for in a bride!”  She reached for her boots.

“Princess Aurora, Prince Daniel wants the best princess he can find.  Why would he choose a bride who is dressed like a worn out rebel witch?”

“A rebel witch?!” snapped Aurora.  “In the Greenlands, the noble ladies wear boots.”  

“Well, you live in the rainforest, Princess,” the head maid explained.  “But if Prince Daniel chooses you, you will marry him and you will live in the Solar Kingdom where the beautiful Sun is shining all the time.  There is no need for rebel footwear here.”

“How is wearing a pair of lace-up boots rebellious?  It’s pragmatic, really.  Why, I would barely be able to walk in those ridiculous slippers.”

“That’s what that lot wears, Princess Aurora,” the head maid insisted, growing impatient now.

“Sorry—which lot?” 

All the maids looked puzzled.

“Princess!  Surely King James and Queen Audrey have informed you about the haggard appearance of the rebels?”

“What?  No!  Now, let me have my boots, please!”

“They didn’t tell you?  But how would you know if you came across a rebel witch or warlock?”

“What are you talking about?  Rebel witches and warlocks… that’s just an Old Witches’ tale, is it not?”

The maids stopped forcing Aurora into the slippers to exchange wide-eyed looks.

Suddenly Aurora felt very stupid.  “But they don’t exist!  At least, that’s what I was always told…”

“What?  Who told you they don’t exist?” one of them questioned.

“Why would they tell the princess a thing like that?” asked another.

“Probably didn’t want to scare her!”

“Oh, that must be it—that rebel lot is truly scary!”

Aurora stood up from the stool to which she had been pinned down and said, “What rebel lot?  Who are these folks?”

The maids huddled around Aurora, trying to calm her.  

The head maid spoke: “Relax, Princess, relax!  The rebels are a low-life group of illegal—well, magic-practitioners!  I just can’t bear to call them mages!  No one does.  They are not noble; they are witches and warlocks.  They live in the outskirts of New-Camelot, off in the woods, and in their secret coven, they practise magic.  They go against the will of the Cosmos!”  The head maid had been trying to soothe Aurora, but by the end of her explanation, she herself ended up in tears.

“But my parents always told me there was no way a mundane could practise magic!  Are these rebels royal and noble children who ran away?”  (If this was the case, Aurora could certainly understand that decision.)

“Princess, surely you’ve heard the story of our Magical Pond?”

“The moat?  Of course, I know about it.”

“Well, what do you know about it?”

“That Emperor Sola saw a prophecy from the Cosmos.  It stated that all of the common folk were instructed to drain their powers into the moat and live mundane lives.  And that this would reserve magic for the royalty and their noble servants.”  Aurora recited this in a tone that did not even attempt to hide how bored she was.

“Exactly!”

“Exactly?  If everyone drained their powers, then how could any mundane practise magic?  That doesn’t make any sense!”

There was a pause.  The head maid bit her lip.  The other maids looked at her, as though wondering if she was going to explain further.

But the head maid said, “I think we’ve told you too much already, Princess.  I don’t know what your parents would think of us telling you all this.  It’s horrific, really.  We don’t mean to frighten you.”

However, Aurora was not frightened; she was furious.  

The ball was to begin any minute now, and she was red in the face.  In fact, she was so heated she felt her face paint melting off.  But she barely noticed when one of the maids cried in despair and ran over with a paintbrush to fix it.  She did not object when the maid sat her down.  She was too lost in thought:  

If there really were rebels out there, hiding in the woods, surely I’d have run into one at some point.  And why would my parents not warn me about them?  My mother and father don’t want me in the woods, and if anything would scare me away from the forest, it’s not the bears, wolves, and mountain lions—nor is it the rainfall or snowfall—but the threat of rebel witches and warlocks!  I’ve seen the damage magic can do in the hands of good, let alone in the hands of evil…

They don’t exist, she decided.  

But what if this explains my being a mundane?  Maybe one of these rebels stole my powers when I was an infant and somehow divided them up among their lot.  Aurora felt very satisfied by this conclusion, even though she had no proof, because there wasn’t any other explanation for her lack of magic.  

These rebels had no idea the kind of trouble this had caused her.  She was just about to present herself to the son of their highest ruler, and she had nothing on the other princesses.    Aurora’s stomach churned when she remembered the reason that she was in this powder room with all these maids.  She was not here to learn about rebel witches and warlocks; she was here to pretend to be someone she was not.  

It was a wasted effort to repair Aurora’s melted paint, for she was still so heated.  Again, she was sweating it all off.

As the maid returned with her paintbrush, Aurora felt her fists clench, her jaw tighten, and her shoulders rise to her ears.  Why do they feel the need to make me look so ridiculous? 

One of the maids was just sliding the golden slippers onto her feet when—Crack!—the pair shattered.  The shards flew all across the room but fortunately did not hit the maids.

“Princess?  Have you done this?” cried the maid who had been placing the slippers on her feet. 

“What?  No!  How could I have?”  

But she was unsure.  Strange things like this always seemed to happen to Aurora—and over the last few days, they seemed to be happening much more than usual.  The broomstick, the carriage, and now this.  Still, they could not have been the jinxes of the Greenlandian Princess; Aurora was a mundane!

“Maybe the rebels are watching us,” a younger maid quaked.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” snapped the head maid.  “We’ve got no time to get these slippers fixed; the ball begins any minute.”

The clock tower chimed six times.

“Alas!  The evening has begun.  Princess Aurora, you are expected in the ballroom.”

“Well, surely, I can’t go barefoot?” questioned Aurora, peering over towards her boots.

“No, Princess,” the head maid sighed.  “You cannot go barefoot.”

“So can I—can I wear my boots to the ball?”

  “I suppose…  We’ve got no time to find another pair that matches your gown, and you really do seem to be set on those ugly old boots…  But do know that this will drastically decrease the chance of Prince Daniel choosing you.”

Somehow Aurora kept quiet about how marrying Prince Daniel was not her wish.

One of the maids started walking towards the boots.  “Here, Princess, I’ll lace them up for you.”

The ebony wand.

Aurora jumped to her feet.  “No!”

The maids looked at her curiously.

“Uh, I wouldn’t want you to have to touch, as you said yourselves, such hideous footwear!” Aurora improvised.  “My thanks, but I’ll do it myself.”

Looks of disgust flooded the faces of the maids.

“Yes, those are truly hideous!” one of them agreed.

“Utterly disgusting—covered in mud!” cried another.

“Completely out of style!”

“Of elven heritage, really!”

“Why, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing those things—someone may think I’m a rebel!”

But Aurora wasn’t listening; she was pleased that she could have control over this one little thing.  She may have still been obliged to wear her Greenlandian Princess tiara—which was made of gold and embellished with emeralds, of course—but at least she could feel somewhat like her true self.  Hastily, she laced up her boots, leaving the ebony wand inside the right one, so that it was hidden away, leaning against her calf.

She could not help herself from wishing she had some time to try it out.  

It felt silly, getting her hopes up over what was just another wand.  However, despite her dislike of magic, she felt so strangely comforted by the wand’s presence.  And in defence of her feelings, the broom had proven itself quite useful.  So, at least for now, she did not want to be estranged from this piece of ebony.

With reluctance, Aurora entered the ballroom, and upon doing so, her jaw dropped.  It was a beautiful place.  The floor was made of golden citrine, and the thrones were made of real gold.  The ceiling was three times as high as that of her parents’ castle and had been decorated with the finest oil paintings Aurora had ever seen…  

The ceiling’s inner paintings represented the Sabbats: a jack-o’-lantern surrounded by ghouls for Hallow’s Eve; an evergreen tree decorated with candles and ornaments for Yule; peasants planting seeds for Candlemas; a rabbit carrying a basket of painted eggs for Ostara; a beautiful meadow of flowers for Beltane; a group of folk holding hands and dancing for Midsummer; a field of crops for Lammas; and a horn of plenty for Mabon.  

The outer paintings represented the phases of the moon: new, waxing crescent, first quarter, waxing gibbous, full, waning gibbous, last quarter, waning crescent, and finally, the dark moon.  In the background of each of these paintings were the Constellations.

And of course, in the very centre of the ceiling, was a massive painting of the golden Sun with the face.  There were tall stained glass windows, and they too shared the imagery of the ceiling.  They looked out onto the meticulously maintained gardens that surrounded the sparkling rainbow pond, which connected to the Magical Moat.  Even Aurora, who despised living in a castle, was in awe of the gloriousness.  

And the folk were dressed to the nines!  The upperclassmen wore the finest gowns, most of them bright, Summer colours such as pink, orange, yellow, and of course, gold.  Even the peasants, who were allowed to attend this sacred event, were well dressed.  Clearly everyone had selected their best garments.

Aurora scanned the ballroom.  She wasn’t going to bother looking for someone who might share the blood of her mother.  She would keep an eye out for her cousin later, when he made his entrance with Prince Daniel.  No, her cousin was not a prince, but being raised by Emperor Sola, he would certainly be treated as such.

At this point, Aurora was looking for the other princesses.  There was no need for this, as she knew being unable to practise magic would be more than enough for Prince Daniel to turn her away.  But still, she wanted to see what they looked like, the garments they were wearing and how their faces had been painted.  This was not because she wanted to be more beautiful than them.  On the contrary, Aurora hoped the girls were far more attractive than her; it would help eliminate any potential risk of having to marry the prince and become not only queen of the Solar Kingdom, but empress of New-Camelot.

Maybe she should not have been hoping for this.  Maybe Prince Daniel was the most pleasant boy in the world.  Aurora tried to imagine herself marrying a kind-hearted prince and moving far away from her parents and living life in the Solar Kingdom.  But as appealing as moving far, far away from the Greens was, the thought of leaving the Greenlands behind was unbearable.  Yes, she despised Greentown and would do anything to never see any of its folk again.  But the woods… they were her home.

Aurora was pulled out of her thoughts when a faux high-pitched voice rang from behind her:  

“Did they not give you any proper footwear, Aurora?”

Aurora whipped around.  Her mother gestured to the pair of slippers she was wearing herself, made from green silk and embellished with emeralds.  Just as Aurora’s initial wardrobe had been planned, Queen Audrey Green’s emerald green slippers had been selected to match her emerald green gown.  It all went lovely with her mother’s Greenlandian Queen crown—which was much like Aurora’s tiara, only larger.

“Uh, no,” Aurora answered.  “They told me to wear my boots.”  (It was not entirely a lie; the maids had let her wear them.)

Her mother, however, did not believe her.  “Why in all the Cosmos would your maids tell you a thing like that?”

“Uh, well, they wanted me to represent my homeland, the rainforest!”

“I suppose that makes sense…  It will help you stand out from the other two…” her mother confirmed, eyes darting around the ballroom.  It was as though she was a mountain lion waiting to pounce.  Much to Aurora’s dislike, she reported: “I’ve been examining Princess Eleanor and Princess Matilda, and you are far more fair than the two, even if you combined the best of their redeeming qualities.”  

Then Aurora’s mother leaned over and got really close to her face.  Queen Audrey Green was a radiant woman, indeed, but being this close to her was scary.  She looked like a demon, bright blue eyes glaring at her daughter as she leered towards her.  She let out a raspy hiss: “If you stay in line and behave for a change, we may have a shot at winning this.  So no rebelling, understand?”

Aurora still had no intention of marrying the prince, but nodded anyway; it was in her best interest to try to stay in line.

Just then, Emperor Sola entered the ballroom and made his way to the front of the stage.  His golden hair glistened in the evening Sunlight that managed to cut through the ballroom’s stained glass windows.  

He began making his speech: “Greetings, friends, nobles, citizens, and of course, princesses.  Tonight, my son, Prince Daniel, will be meeting the three young maidens he has heard so much about: Princess Eleanor Heart from the Heartlands, Princess Matilda Tangleknot from Tangleknot, and Princess Aurora Green from the Greenlands.” 

Aurora wondered if the other two princesses had met Prince Daniel before.  Emperor Sola was speaking as though they hadn’t, and while Aurora doubted he had met Princess Matilda, she suspected that he had already met Princess Eleanor.  Certainly this would give the Heartlandian Princess an advantage over the other two girls.  

“Each princess will present Prince Daniel with not only themselves, but they will also perform a bit of magic.  Prince Daniel will contemplate not only which princess is the most beautiful, but which princess is the most powerful.  Come dawn, and Prince Daniel will have made up his mind regarding which princess will be his future bride.”

The crowd cheered.  (Everyone except Aurora.)

Through the applause, Aurora’s mother turned to the rest of the Green family and whispered, “Come dawn, and Prince Daniel will marry the princess who was named after the dawn, and their wedding day will be the dawn of New-Camelot’s greatest rule!”

Aurora almost lashed out at her mother, but fortunately, before she had the chance, Emperor Sola spoke again: 

“First, let us honour my son, Prince Daniel.”  

The crowd erupted before he even appeared.  And then, from the back, a tall ebony-black-haired boy with a strong build entered the ballroom.  As he strutted down the centre aisle, towards the throne, he flashed the same smile his father did, the Imperial smile, and waved to the crowd.  

Aurora could not help but look at him.  He carried himself with such confidence.  Clearly, he loved having everyone’s eyes on him.  He even blew a few kisses to some of the ladies, who were all gawking at the very sight of him.  Aurora could not say she wanted to meet him, let alone be his bride.

When he reached his throne—the shorter one next to his father’s—in a nasally and drawling sort of voice, the prince spoke, “Greetings, citizens of the Solar Kingdom, as well as guests,” and he flashed a cocky grin toward the crowd.  

Aurora got a funny feeling he was looking at her.  She knew this was a ridiculous thought, as there was a massive crowd in the ballroom.  But then again, he must have heard of her; she was infamously known as ‘the Mundane Princess’ after all…

Before taking his seat on the shorter throne, Prince Daniel continued, making a brief speech: 

“A happy Eventide to all!  I have to give my thanks for attending what will become an important day in history, the night I choose my bride: the one princess so lucky she will become not just queen, but empress as well.  I know by wedding a single lady, I am disappointing many of you, but this is a sacrifice I must make in order to become both king and emperor; to fulfil my duty to my territory, the Solar Kingdom, and to the entirety of New-Camelot.  I appreciate your understanding.” 

The crowd erupted in a cheer even larger than the one Emperor Sola had received—and this time the voices of the women rang through much louder than those of the men.  

As Prince Daniel took his place on the shorter throne, Emperor Sola flashed the crowd the same cocky smile and said, “Before we get into the royal ceremony, let us enjoy an abundant feast!”  Then he took his place on the Golden Throne.

Aurora was confused.  Was Emperor Sola’s other child, her cousin, not going to be introduced?  Or was he already out in the crowd, socialising with the other members of the nobility?  Perhaps her parents had asked that he not attend this event, so they would not have to see him.  Or maybe it was to keep him away from Aurora.

There was no time to question this further, however, for just then, in came the food, carried by a group of female elves.

Their bodies possessed unbelievable curves.  Both their skin and hair were various shades of green, some a lighter green that reminded Aurora of the forest, and some a darker green that reminded her of the depths of the sea.  Dressed in a revealing manner, the elves strutted as they walked towards the dining tables, holding the food high in the air.  The court jesters played their lutes and fiddles and harps in the background as the elven women performed their choreographed presentation of the food.  Spinning around wildly, their green hair twinkled in the Sunlight that spilled through the stained glass windows—and of course, their long pointed ears could be seen peaking out from underneath.

Aurora, who had never seen an elf, was in such admiration of their beauty that she longed to join in their merry dance, until she realised their dance was not so merry:

Upon further inspection, she saw that the elves were under some kind of enchantment, as they were magically bound by daisy chains.  A dark-haired mage—he, like Emperor Sola, dressed all in yellow—stood off to the side of the court jesters.  Using his wand, he conducted their behaviour.

“We don’t do that in the Greenlands!” Aurora gasped.

“Do what, Aurora?!” snapped her mother.

“Whatever madness the conductor is doing to the elven women!”

Queen Audrey sniffed.  “No, we don’t.”

There were tears in her mother’s eyes.

But before Aurora could find out why, her father spoke, “But we should!  The nymphs look splendid!  That’s all they’re good for, really—they are a pleasant thing for the men to look at!”

So, that was why her mother was crying, because she too longed to have this in the Greenlands!  

Enraged, Aurora found herself saying, “But don’t they have feelings just as you and I do?”

“Don’t they have feelings just as you and I do?!” mimicked her father.  “Aurora, the entirety of the elven race has always acted as whores, particularly the females!  They used to make themselves so available, frolicking around naked in the forest.  Why, they asked for the treatment they are getting here in the Solar Kingdom!”

Aurora was about to interject, but her father continued, “This is how things are in the capital, Aurora.  They’ve got it all.  There are brothels where you can go and watch these nymphs dance naked around skinny trees, like the foolish whores they are—even pay for one to service you.  It’s marvellous here in the Solar Kingdom.  Why do you think your mother and I are always visiting?  It’s vital for Prince Daniel to choose you, so we can merge kingdoms and make the Greenlands just as wonderful.  Advance it!  Modernise it!  Destroy the illusion that the West Coast is merely a territory for low-life elven scum!”

Aurora’s face started to burn.  She was certain she was sweating off the paint again.  If her parents were really planning on making the Greenlands more like the Solar Kingdom, she would not let them use her as their tool in doing so.

But the misfit princess could not ponder this for any longer, for just then, one of the court jesters began singing a poem that had been written for the occasion:

I tell you a tale of the Solar Prince!

He was handsome and noble and good with magic

All of the ladies craved his hand

But he was tasked with ruling the land

His father sat on the Golden Throne

The most magical man there was to be known

Emperor Sola was his name

And he kept the folk of New-Camelot safe

To his father’s cause this prince was loyal

To keep the arcane reserved for the royal

So when that prince became of ripe age

To the most magical princess he would be engaged

And so on the night of the Full Grain Moon

We gather and wonder which princess he’ll choose

Will it be Princess Eleanor of the Heartlands?  

Or Princess Matilda of Tangleknot?

Or will it be Princess Aurora of the Greenlands?

These are the worthy ladies-in-waiting

And now ’tis the night of the Full Grain Moon

And the most magical princess Prince Daniel will choose

Will he choose Princess Eleanor of the Heartlands?  

Or Princess Matilda of Tangleknot?

Or will he choose Princess Aurora of the Greenlands?

These are the worthy ladies-in-waiting

’Tis time to reap what he has sown

Which princess will join Prince Daniel on the Golden Throne?

Both times the jester reached the line about her, Aurora felt as though she might faint.  She tried to distract herself by focusing on the way the elves could move their bodies.  Surprisingly pleasant—although she did feel guilty for thinking this.  When he finished singing, it came as a great relief.

Once the elves had finished their dance and the food had been placed on the tables, Emperor Sola made an order: “My greatest thanks, Sir William Castaway.  Now, could you please direct the regal families to their tables?”  And the same dark-haired noble-worker, who had conducted the elves’ behaviour, did as he was ordered.

He was just like any other member of the Solar Allegiance: tall, fit, and clearly arrogant.  “Alright!  Resident royalty sits at the front table!” he called out in a bossy tone.  “But of course you already know where you’re going!”

Aurora scanned the long table that stretched out in front of the thrones.  There was no sign of anyone who looked as though they could have been related to Audrey Green. 

“Now, each visiting royal family has been given their own table!  King Reinhard Heart and Queen Charlotte Heart, your family will sit over there on the far right side.  Yes, there you go!  King Madon Tangleknot and Queen Morgana Tangleknot, your family will sit here in the middle.  Perfect!  King James Green and Queen Audrey Green, your family will sit over there on the far left side.  Wonderful!”

Aurora took her seat and was overcome by a flavourful aroma—so mouth-watering that only the curves of an elven lady could have distracted her from it.  

The royal tables were packed with food—delicious food: roasted beef, meat pies, roasted carrots and potatoes, candied nuts, fruit picked from the lush gardens, freshly baked bread with whipped garlic butter, a variety of creamy soups, chocolate cake, tapioca pudding, apple pie, and all the liquor the Mundane Princess could ever dream of!  

She filled her plate generously.  She loved food; it was the only redeeming quality of evenings such as this one.  She was just about to take a bite of her steaming chicken-pot-pie when she noticed how little the peasants had on their table.  

There was a large amount of space between each dish, and the food didn’t look a quarter as appetising as theirs.  There was stale bread with no butter, raw carrots and potatoes, some fruit that was beginning to rot, and a big pot of what looked like it might be porridge.

“We don’t feed our peasants much, but we don’t feed them that little!” Aurora gasped, throwing her spoon down on the table.

Her father didn’t even glance over at their tables.  “Most of them live in villages by the farmland,” he justified.  “There is plenty of food for them out there.”

“Not at the rate we eat it!” Aurora protested.  “They harvested all this.  Don’t you think we should at least let them enjoy some of it?”

“That isn’t for us to decide, Aurora,” her mother argued.  “But when you become queen of the Solar Kingdom, you can change the way things work.”

“As long as Prince Daniel approves of it!” her father reminded them hastily.

“Oh, yes, of course!” her mother chimed.

It wasn’t long before Prince Jonathon had already finished his third plate of food.  “Mother and Father,” he started in his usual snooty tone, “I am going to go introduce myself to Princess Eleanor.”

“Princess Eleanor?” their mother questioned.  “Why would you want to do that?”

“Well, there is only one Prince Daniel, and there are three princesses,” he explained.  “Hopefully he doesn’t choose her, because she is quite attractive.”

“Attractive?!” their mother cried.

But she got no answer, as Prince Jonathan was already strutting over towards the Hearts’ table.

“I ought to follow him,” Queen Audrey said.

King James stopped her: “No, Audrey!  Think of it this way: our daughter weds Prince Daniel, and our son weds Princess Eleanor.  With this plan, we not only get ourselves in with the capital, but with the Heartlands.  Why, our family would own not only the northern West Coast and the Interior, but we would have influence over the northern East Coast as well!”

Aurora’s appetite dissipated.  “Is that all you care about?!  The political opportunities that would arise out of it?”

“Of course, Aurora—your father is being very smart with his thinking here.”

“Jonathan and I are not transactions waiting to be had, you know!” 

“Of course you are!” her father argued.  “What else would we have had you children for?”  

Aurora filled her plate to the brim but marched away from the table.  Hoping no one would notice, she made her way over to one of the peasant tables.  “Um, hi!” she greeted them nervously.  She knew they probably wouldn’t think much of her, being that her life was so much more luxurious than theirs.  She simply laid the plate of food down on the table and turned around.

Before she could get away, however, one peasant called out, “My greatest thanks, Your Highness!”

Aurora turned back.  “Uh, don’t worry about it!  I doubt I could eat all of that in this gown, anyway!”  And she gestured towards the corset.

The Mundane Princess returned to her family’s table.  Her parents were furious, but said nothing, as though not to further embarrass themselves in front of the capital.

Still, things were tense.  As the Greenlandian King and Queen feasted, they discussed regal matters and ignored their daughter entirely.

Surprisingly, it was a relief when Emperor Sola returned from his dining table to the throne.

“Now that we have enjoyed our dinner,” he spoke, capital accent so strong it sounded fraudulent, “the lovely princesses will present themselves to Prince Daniel.  First, we would like to welcome Princess Eleanor Heart from the Heartlands.”

Prince Jonathan looked slightly disgruntled when the plain girl with dark brown hair, to whom he had been talking to, stood up from her table.  She must have been at least a Sun or two older than Aurora.  Tall and slender, with perfect posture, she walked towards the throne of Prince Daniel.

Upon greeting him, Princess Eleanor gave a curtsy and a smile.

Brows narrowed, Prince Daniel looked her up and down.  He was clearly disappointed by her appearance.  She was dressed in a simple gown composed of dark red silk.  On her head, she wore a golden tiara with heart-shaped rubies.  There was nothing wrong with the way she looked, but she certainly was not a radiant beauty like Aurora, nor was she dressed half as glamorously.

But for what Princess Eleanor lacked in radiance, she made up for with magic.  With a flick of her wand, all around the room, she conjured up beautiful flowers in every shade imaginable.  Waving the wand around and around, above her head, the flowers began to dance and sing a merry tune.  When the song came to an end, she arranged them into a beautiful bouquet in the shape of a heart.

Prince Daniel gave an exaggerated yawn and then spoke in a dull, almost sarcastic tone, “Yes, that is very nice, Princess Eleanor.”

The young girl’s face fell.  Tears began to flood her eyes.  

Aurora could not stop herself from saying, “Very nice?  That’s all she gets?”  

Her mother gave her a nudge and a disapproving glare.

Princess Eleanor did not leave the throne.  Clearly her whole life had revolved around this very moment, and she was not going to just turn away.  

Prince Daniel had to say, “You can leave now, Princess Eleanor,” before the girl returned to her very distraught family.  

Her parents were almost identical to her: plain faces and dark brown hair.  Her mother had the same elegance, the same perfect posture.  Her father, however, was quite plump and stout.

Prince Jonathan was still sitting with the Hearts.  Smoothly, the Greenlandian prince put his hand around Princess Eleanor’s shoulder, as though to comfort her.

Emperor Sola returned to the front of the crowd, the same ridiculous smile on his face. “What a lovely performance from Princess Eleanor!  Thank you for that, my dear!”  

The crowd applauded.  

“Next, we welcome Princess Matilda Tangleknot from Tangleknot!”

The crowd was clearly frightened of the jungle princess.  They hunched together as Princess Matilda marched through the clearing.  

The girl had vibrant red hair, so tangled and matted she looked as though she was actually wearing a wig of snakes.  Her facial features were well defined: a strong chin, a tall forehead, and high cheekbones.  She had an angular nose, and she wore a large ring through its centre.

Her dress was made from the skin of a leopard.  It was form-fitting on her upper half, but long and loose on her lower half, with a slit down the side that revealed her legs.  (Aurora noticed that the hair on her legs had, too, been stripped by wax.)  The leopard-skin dress was decorated with black and red leather details.  For footwear, she wore high-heeled gladiator sandals that fastened all the way up her legs.  And on her head, she wore a golden tiara decorated with sapphires.

The jungle princess had a strong build; she had clearly been training.  This struck Aurora as odd.  In the northern territories, it was not custom for princesses to train so heavily in Battle Magic.  

Calling the expression on Princess Matilda’s face ‘determined’ would not do it justice.  This girl was clearly angry.  Aurora couldn’t blame her—she was angry about the circumstances too!

But as Princess Matilda strutted down the clearing with such confidence and pride, banging her staff the whole way, Aurora began to realise that, like Princess Eleanor, she had been looking forward to this moment.  Despite her scowl—which looked as though it could have been a permanent fixture on her face—she was happy to be here.

When she reached the throne, she gave a bow. 

“Princesses curtsy!” corrected Prince Daniel, snootily, waving his finger around in the air.

“Not in the jungle,” Princess Matilda hissed, as though she were some kind of poisonous snake.

Prince Daniel sat up straight on his throne.  “Sho—should you not use a wand?”

Princess Matilda shook her head.  She moved her large staff from hand to hand.  Being made of lava stone, it was a vibrant red colour, with preserved jungle vines that wrapped all the way up its shaft, right to the top where the skull of some kind of jungle animal had been fastened.  

“Wands… those are for the children of the inferior territories, aren’t they?  Why, you have a wand, don’t you, Your Grace?  I bet you’d rather carry a staff like the upperclass children of Tangleknot…”  

  And with that said, she began waving her staff around the room.  All kinds of fantastical things began to appear: flames in all different colours, giant hurricanes to put them out, thunder and lightning, shooting Stars, and snowflakes that began melting into tropical jungle flowers.

Prince Daniel sat there, wide-eyed, mouth hanging open.

“Yes,” she hissed again, “I am Princess Matilda from Tangleknot, and at the mere age of fifteen Suns, I am the most powerful sorceress in all of New-Camelot!  Marrying me will mean that you are marrying the most magical one of all.”  

And before the prince could say anything, she turned and marched away.

She returned to her family’s table where her parents awaited her.  They were just like their daughter: strong builds, bright red hair left in tangled mats, jewellery worn in places it didn’t belong, and angry expressions on their faces.

Once again, Emperor Sola returned to the front of the crowd.  This time, he was trembling.  “Tha—thank you, Princess Matilda!” 

The crowd slowly began to applaud.  No one knew what to make of the performance.  Indeed, the jungle princess was powerful, but she was also scary.

As the applause stopped, Aurora was plagued by a rush of what felt like butterflies floating around in her stomach.  

“And finally, we welcome Princess Aurora Green from the Greenlands!”

Aurora made her way to the clearing, all eyes in the ballroom falling on her.  Whispers could be heard from all around:

  “Why, it’s the Mundane Princess!”  

“But what’s she going to do?  She can’t perform magic yet, last I heard.”  

“Is she wearing boots? To a ball?!”  

“Does she actually believe she stands a chance with our Prince Daniel?”

Aurora did not like this at all: feeling everyone’s gaze on her.  How did Prince Daniel make it look so easy?  Unable to breathe—partially due to her nerves and partially due to the corset—she slowly made her way down the aisle.  The butterflies fluttering around in her stomach had turned into a stormy sea.  She was relieved that she hadn’t eaten any dinner for, if she had, it would likely be all over the golden citrine floor by now.  

Eventually, she found herself standing in front of Prince Daniel’s throne.  It was so tall her head barely reached his knees.  Shaking, she greeted him with an awkward curtsy.

Prince Daniel stared at her.  His brow was not narrowing in disappointment, and he was not so afraid that he sat up straight in his chair.  No, he looked satisfied.  Impressed actually.  He was clearly interested in her because of her looks.

Oh, Cosmos, is he about to be disappointed.

“Well, you certainly are an attractive girl,” he commented, as though she was a piece of furniture.  “Can I see some magic, though?”

Trembling, the Mundane Princess took out the wand Professor Skuyler had instructed her to use: average length and made from the wood of an evergreen tree.  “A good wand for any aspiring mage—not as moody as some of the other woods!”

She waved it around.  

Nothing.  

She waved it a second time.  

Nothing.  

And a third time, and a fourth time, and a fifth time.  

Still nothing.  

She was just about to wave it around for the thirteenth time when Prince Daniel spoke cooly, “I suppose the rumours are true, Princess Aurora?”

The ballroom erupted in laughter.  Aurora did not dare look at her parents, who were undoubtedly livid.  The princess could feel tears filling her eyes.  

Oh, why do I care so much?  It’s not as though I desire Prince Daniel’s marriage.

Somehow she managed to utter the words, “Yes, the rumours are true.”

And then she turned to walk away.  But after making her first few steps, she remembered the ebony wand.  She could never surpass Princess Matilda, but perhaps she could, at the very least, regain her pride.  She was asking a lot of the Cosmos today, but maybe there was a chance…

She whipped around and pulled the ebony wand out from her boot.  The crowd gasped, but she did not notice.  Before anyone could ask her where she had obtained such a wand, she was waving it around in the air.  Her eyes were closed now, because she did not like knowing how many people were watching her make a fool of herself. 

Then came a massive roar and a ballroom full of screams.  She opened her eyes.  There was an angry dragon storming around.  The beast was huge, barely fitting inside the ballroom.  It had deep purple and metallic silver scales, and a menacing face that showed it was not something to be trifled with.  

Most noteworthy of all, however, was how it had set the castle on fire.  Aurora was just wondering how the dragon had got inside the ballroom when she looked down and realised: The beast’s tail is attached to the end of my wand!

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