Lady Aurora
Fifteen years old
Aurora's bare feet slap against the cold marble as she runs. Her golden hair flies behind her, and tears blur her vision, but she doesn't slow down. The book pressed against her chest feels warm from her grip. Inside are all her wobbly drawings of flowers and horses, and letters written in her messy handwriting. She spent three whole days making it for Prince Armen, staying up past bedtime with only a candle for light.
Her footsteps echo loud in the fancy hallway. Some of the grown-ups in their fine clothes turn to stare - ladies with their perfect hair and men with their stern faces. Aurora doesn't care. She has to get to the courtyard before the horn blows again. Her lungs burn and her legs ache, but she pushes harder.
Her father locked her in her room this morning after breakfast. Said she was too wild, too loud, too much trouble. Said the prince shouldn't waste his time with a girl like her. Said it wasn't proper for a duke's daughter to run around like a street child even though all she wanted was to say goodbye to her friend. But Marwen, her sweet nanny who'd been with her since she was a baby, helped her sneak out through the servants' stairs. Marwen's hands shook as she turned the key, but she did it anyway.
The horn sounds again, deep and final. Aurora's heart jumps into her throat. One more time and Prince Armen will be gone forever.
She bursts into the courtyard, gasping for breath. The sun hits her face as she sees Prince Armen swinging his leg over his massive black horse. His armor catches the light like stars. Soldiers stand in neat rows, their spears pointing toward the sky. Banners snap in the wind.
"Prince Armen!" The words tear from her throat, raw and desperate.
He turns in his saddle. When he sees her, his whole face changes - the serious soldier mask falls away. He slides off his horse with practiced ease and walks toward her with those long steps she remembers. Aurora doesn't care that everyone's watching - the soldiers, the servants, even some nobles who came to see him off. She runs straight into his waiting arms.
"I was beginning to think you wouldn't come," he says, catching her and lifting her clean off the ground.
Aurora buries her face in his chest. The metal of his armor is cool against her cheek, but underneath she can feel his warmth. He smells like leather and soap and something else - something safe. Her small body shakes with sobs that she's been holding back all morning.
"Hush now, little one, I'll be back before you know it."
But his words don't help. The war is real and scary, and grown-ups die in wars. She's heard the servants whispering about it in the halls, seen the worry lines around Marwen's eyes.
His palm rubs across her back, gentle circles like when she was smaller and had bad dreams. The familiar touch makes her cry harder. He picks her up completely, holding her like she weighs nothing, whispering soft words she can't quite hear over her own sobbing.
When the worst of it passes, Aurora slides down his body back to the ground. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, leaving streaks across her cheeks. Her face feels hot and puffy.
"I'm sorry," she says, holding out the book with both hands like an offering.
Prince Armen takes the book from her carefully. His fingers are gentle as he opens it, and Aurora watches his face change as he sees her work. The first page has a drawing of him on his horse, all crooked lines and bright colors. The next shows the castle garden where they used to walk. Her letters are scattered throughout, written in her careful script that still slopes the wrong way sometimes.
"I shall cherish it, little one," he says, and his voice sounds different - thick with something she doesn't understand. "Not as much as I'll miss you."
Aurora's face lights up with the first real smile since she saw him preparing to leave. "I shall miss you too."
Their eyes meet and hold. Around them, the courtyard buzzes with activity - horses snorting, metal clanking, men shouting orders. But it all fades away. For this moment, it's just the two of them, like all those afternoons in the garden when he'd listen to her stories and she'd show him bugs she found under rocks.
Prince Armen leans forward and his lips brush against her forehead, soft and warm. The kiss feels like a promise.
The third horn sounds. Reality crashes back. Soldiers mount their horses, and Prince Armen's face goes serious again.
"I have to go now," he says.
Aurora nods because she can't speak past the lump in her throat. She watches him walk back to his horse, watches him swing up into the saddle like it's the easiest thing in the world. He looks down at her one last time, and she waves at him one last time.
Then they're moving - a river of horses and men flowing toward the gates. Aurora runs after them for a few steps before stopping. Her legs suddenly feel too heavy to carry her.
She climbs to the highest tower she can find, her favorite hiding spot when the world gets too big. From here, she can see the road that winds away from the castle, through the village and into the dark forest beyond. There's just a tiny cloud of dust now where Prince Armen's group used to be.
The stone parapet is rough under her hands as she grips it, watching until even the dust disappears. Then she slides down the wall and pulls her knees to her chest. The stones are cold and damp against her back, but she doesn't care. She cries until her throat hurts and her eyes feel like sandpaper.
The sun moves across the sky while she sits there. Her stomach growls - she missed lunch and probably dinner too. Servants will be looking for her soon. Father will be furious that she's disappeared again.
But she has to protect Marwen. If he finds out her nanny helped her escape, he'll send Marwen away to some other family. Aurora can't lose Marwen too. Not today.
With legs that feel like water, she makes her way back through the winding corridors. Each step brings her closer to trouble, but she keeps going. The palace feels different now - bigger and colder. Shadows stretch longer in the hallways.
She pushes open the door to her room and immediately knows she's in deep trouble. He stands by her window, his back straight as a sword. Even from behind, she can see the tension in his shoulders. Marwen is there too, standing near the wall like she's trying to disappear. Her eyes are red and scared.
"Aurora." He said coldly.
Aurora's stomach drops to her toes. She's seen him angry before - when she tracked mud through the great hall, when she accidentally broke his favorite vase. But this is different. His face is dark as a storm cloud, and his hands are clenched into fists at his sides.
"I'm sorry, Father," she says, and the words come out smaller than she meant them to. "I know I shouldn't have disobeyed you. But I had to, you wouldn't let me say goodbye, he is my friend."
The last words hang in the air like she's said something terrible.
His face gets even darker. His eyes flash with something that makes Aurora want to hide under her bed.
"Your friend? Friend?" He laughs, but it's not a nice sound at all. It's sharp and mean. "You cannot be friends with a prince."
When he shouts, Aurora feels it in her bones. She's never heard him this loud, this angry. Marwen makes a small sound like a hurt animal.
"You will not speak of the prince in such manner," he growls, stepping closer. "He is the future king, and you will show him the respect and deference due to his station."
Aurora nods quickly, looking down at her feet. "Yes, Father."
But that just makes him angrier. His face turns a dangerous shade of red, and veins stick out on his forehead.
"I shall have you punished for your disobedience," he spits.
His hand comes up fast, and Aurora sees it coming but her feet won't move. The slap rings through the room like thunder. Her cheek explodes with pain, hot and sharp. She crumples to the floor, one hand flying to her face.
Marwen cries out and starts toward her, but Father's voice stops her cold.
"Aurora, you will learn to obey me," he says, his voice low and scary. "I have been lenient with you long enough, you shall have to learn your place."
Aurora looks up at him through her tears. The side of her face throbs like a heartbeat.
"You will apologize to the king and queen for your behavior," he continues, each word like a stone. "And you will spend the next week in your room, with no visitors and no privileges."
Aurora nods because speaking seems impossible. Her whole world has tilted sideways.
He storms out without another word, slamming the door so hard the windows rattle. The sound echoes in Aurora's ears long after he's gone.
Marwen rushes over and gathers Aurora into her arms, holding her tight while they both cry. Aurora clings to her nanny's familiar softness, breathing in the scent of lavender soap and kindness.
"I'm sorry," Marwen whispers over and over. "I'm so sorry, little one."
In that moment, Aurora realized she had lost not only her dear friend, but also the father she once thought she knew