Prologue: An Unfavorable Heir 

Long ago there lived nothing but kingdoms; no high-society cities or towns. There only existed true, whimsical, magical kingdoms which spread across countless rolling hills; as far as one’s eye could tell. And these kingdoms welcomed their Spring seasons quick; spring brought them their favorable, floral winds that soared dreamily across those hills. These hills that surrounded the kingdoms, creating a protective barrier if any other kingdom chose to attack at any one point.  

The kingdoms spread far and wide and forever. A journey from one kingdom to the next took a carriage pulled by two or three horses a minimum of twelve days. The kingdoms near the coast acquainted themselves with the nearby ocean, and those encased with land familiarized themselves with trees that burst tall into the clouds, unforgiving. It was rumored by few that if one were to travel to the daring edge of the dense, Elfwood Forest, they’d hear the gentle and low whisperings of the nature spirits, of the Elvern fairies.  

Prince Everett of the Seles Kingdom was one who’s bedroom window stared right out into the Elfwood Forest. He never drew close to the roots of the trees zig-zagged in the dirt, never felt the shade of the tall oaks, and never heard the whispering with his own ears.  

Instead, he merely propped his chin up on his palm, leaning onto his windowsill, staring and hoping he may see something whimsical out the oval-shaped window. But for all his nineteen years of life, he had yet to.  

“Prince.” A gentle voice grabs his attention, to which he spins on his heels.  

“Yes, Eda?”  

The stout woman was stood in the doorway; hair cropped just above her shoulders in a stunning black hue that reflected the colors of her robe ever so slightly. Working for the royals had aided in her greying hair, although Everett complimented her when he could. It simply looked nice, a stark contrast to her natural color.  

Eda had practically raised Everett since he was young. Everett’s mother had passed in his childbirth, and his father ever since had blamed him for it. Eda was the one to remind him cordially that he was a mere infant, to blame for nothing.  

“The King wishes to speak with you now.” Eda gives him a knowing look. The look that told Everett that his father was in an irritable mood and to tread lightly where he stepped. The prince offers an understanding nod, small and unnoticeable to the untrained eye, but to the royal help, it was clear as day. With an explosive King in charge, little signals and signs grew customary amongst them.  

Eda guided Everett swiftly down the elaborate halls, red velvet smooth beneath their feet. This hallway in particular, the one which led directly to the spiraling stone staircase, was the one Everett took his first steps in. On the walls hung a family portrait, big and proud.  

It was of the two of them; his late mother and the King. The King sat in his throne, face still and solemn, and his mother stood behind him, a hand delicately on his shoulder. Everett liked to come and stare at it every now and then, but he stopped doing so when the King caught him. In response, in his terrible grief, he ripped her face to shreds. So now, the portrait was hardly anything worth looking at.  

Once the throne room is reached, Everett dismisses Eda. She scurries away, bowing her head before she does so. An action so engrained in her that she does not seem to notice that she had done it in the first place.  

The throne room was just as elegant as every other room in the Seleian Castle. Golden pillars led up to two gigantic thrones next to one another. Both occupied. The King was seated upright, eyebrows furrowed and pupils glaring expectingly at Everett as he crept forward.  

The other was filled by his second wife, who curled a protective hand on her stomach. The stomach that carried the heir to replace Everett, or at least his father hoped it to be so. 

“What did you wish to speak to me about, father?” 

The King and his wife regarded the prince with smug, judgmental scowls; their lips downturned to a ridiculous degree. The King brought his arms up to his chest where he pressed them tightly together so that his hands turned pale. His eyebrows furrowed even deeper, covering nearly half of his pupils. So much so that Everett could no longer tell where he was looking. A pang of anxiousness swam through him like the koi-fish in the castle garden ponds, fluttery and hyperkinetic.  

When the King spoke, his voice would always be heard. His mouth opened, sending a shiver of goosebumps up and down Everett’s body and the pure scale of his volume. Loud and demanding, like a King should be. Like he was pretty certain he would never be. 

“It has come to mine and Adelaide’s attention that the winery has been stolen from.” An intentional, accusing pause ensues that furthers Everett’s anxiousness. “Do you happen to know anything of this?”  

Everett’s mouth parts with a defensive line, but the King speaks over him easily. 

“Because no heir of mine would do such a thing!” He’s stood now, drawing nearer to the prince. “Three bottles gone. Adelaide’s red wine, imported from the Northern Kingdom of Amera. Do you understand how expensive the transport and handling of this wine is?” 

Again, before Everett can defend himself, he is spoken over.  

Adelaide stands, fixing her rose colored gown neatly and holding a hand proudly beneath her pudgy belly.  

“I was saving the wine for after the birth of our son. It would be impossible to have any more bottles sent here by the time he is born.” Her voice is sharp and evil, and by the glint in her eye, Everett can tell that she knows of his innocence. She knows, but she wishes to incriminate him if it gave her unborn son a better chance at the throne. “So, what do you have to say for yourself?”  

Everett takes a deep breath, holding his chin high although he feels his jaw tremble with nerves. He would try his best to plead his case, although he knew the outcome. Each time he was accused of something like this, they never tried to listen. The unfavorable heir, born of a different blood, was always to blame.  

“Nothing.” He retorts. “I have nothing to say, as I did no such thing.”  

Silence ensues, and Everett is sure he can see the rage worsen on his father’s face, and he is not sure how it is possible.  

“Liar!” He screams at him, to which Everett flinches hard.  

Eda is called back into the throne room; a concerned look plastered on her expression.  

“Yes, King?”  

“Take the prince to his room. He is not to leave it until I say otherwise.”  

“Understood, Your Majesty.”