Hathor Redbane, the Emperor of Iradas, had chosen to host a splendid ball in honour of his children and closest allies. He intended to find a bride for both his sons this evening – although he believed he already had a perfect match for Viktor, his eldest. Now it was just a case of finding someone worthy of Saff.

     Adelaide, on the other hand, didn’t know what she was expected to do all night. She had heard whispers between her father and Dedric Vale, the Chief of Staff of Aarengoth, about a certain crown prince whom Hathor appeared to love. Adelaide had never met him before, let alone heard his name. She had been cast into the shadows regarding any concerns about her own marriage.

     The guests in the hall stood amongst each other, some locked in mindless chatter; others wore grave expressions and whispered about the current situation between the Valentis and Redbanes.

     It had taken Hathor some time to even consider marrying his children off, especially after the war between the Redbanes and the Valentis worsened. Marcus Valenti, the Lord of Valkenn, was perhaps the most wretched of the family. A man whose heart was heavy with hate and his mind clouded with plots of revenge.

     Adelaide stood in between her brothers at the entrance to the grand hall, a hand clasped around each of theirs, and the three of them shared a brief but reassuring glance.

     “How much are we betting we’ll get out of here alive?” Saff asked his siblings. His chestnut hair, neatly combed back, brushed against his collarbones as he moved his head from one side to the other. The young prince wasn’t too sure what he was really looking for.

     Viktor gave the collar of his grey tunic a nervous tug, being careful not to rip the golden laced edges. Unlike his brother, he had taken after their mother – his hair was black and silky, to match his hauntingly pale grey eyes. “Come now, Brother, it’s not appropriate to make bets on a night like this.” he replied wryly.

     “Fifty gold coins.” Adelaide said behind a smile of her own and her response earned a brief laugh from both her brothers. “Consider yourselves lucky,” she began again, as they moved along the hall, giving brief nods in greeting to guests as they passed by. “Father has not yet found a bride for you both. I’ve heard him talking to Dedric about a certain young prince, whom he thinks is a perfect match for me.”

     Saff sucked in some air and shook his head. He had expected his sister to be the first victim of marriage; just a woman’s luck, he supposed.

     “Did you happen to hear a name?” Viktor asked.

     Adelaide shook her head.

     “An age at least?” Saff contributed a question of his own.

     Another shake of her head. “I swear to the gods, if Father marries me off to some old toad,” she began.

     Viktor and Saff shared a laugh too loud for their own liking, causing a few guests to glance their way. They couldn’t help it.

     “Whilst he scoops up all the young virgins for us.” Saff replied.

     Adelaide wanted to give her brother a shove, but that wouldn’t have been appropriate. She would do it after the party.

     The grand hall had been transformed from its usual monochrome appearance to one that would make an artist swoon. Tapestries of red, white and gold hung over the pillars – the proud colours of the Redbane family. Bouquets of roses sat in large golden urns below, and the flowers filled the air with a pleasant sweetness.

     Adelaide felt a hand press against the small of her back. She turned and found Dedric smiling at her.

     He gave the siblings a bow at the waist. “It’s wonderful to see the three of you banding together tonight. I reckon with what your father has in mind for you all, you’ll need as much moral support as you can get.” his voice was cool, relaxed. Dedric looked splendid in his formal attire; his dark red tunic was bold against his pale skin and white-blonde hair.

     Viktor accepted a chalice of wine offered to him by a servant. When the others retrieved a cup of their own, they all took a moment to raise their drinks in honour of the emperor and his achievements.

     “I would rather hear nothing of marriage now, thank you. Let us enjoy our freedom while it lasts.” Viktor replied.

     Saff brought his cup closer to his lips. “Freedom? Never heard of such a thing.” he said and together they all shared a laugh.

     Adelaide didn’t drink from her cup. She found she wasn’t thirsty. It was either that, or she was just feeling uneasy. She was desperate to know who her father had chosen to become her husband. If she was to be handed over like some spoil of war, she believed she was at least entitled to know the name and age of her buyer.

     Buyer?

     Adelaide knew all about the bride price her future husband would have to pay first. She looked around the crowded hall for a moment and found her father busy, off entertaining guests elsewhere. Adelaide didn’t want to speak to him right now.

     “Princess?” Dedric asked from her side.

     When she looked back, she realised only the chief of staff remained by her side. “Where are the others?” she asked. Adelaide took Dedric’s arm as he offered it to her, and together they began to pace around the hall again. Her appearance this evening was very patriotic indeed. A long gown of red velvet over white silk undergarments and an underskirt. The dress sloped off her shoulders, over a white high collared tunic, with frills tucked beneath her chin. A thick ruby secured it nicely in place.

     The party was of vital importance; it offered a chance for Hathor’s children to meet and greet the kings and queens who helped him keep the Allied Kingdoms of Iradas in check. More importantly, it gave the Redbane heirs the chance to lay eyes on any potential suitors.

     For that reason, just like her brothers and fellow princes and princesses, Adelaide wore a splendid cape which bore her family sigil – the initials R.B. etched within the centre of a coin, dripping in blood.

     The families within the Allied Kingdoms had found no significance in ostentatious family sigils. Instead, they carried their initials proudly and in plain sight, centred within an Iradan – the currency used across Iradas. They all believed it enough to show their loyalty to the emperor and their lineage.

     “I need to speak to you in private.” Adelaide said after some time, her gaze soft as she passed by more guests, mumbling greetings and ‘good evenings’.

     Dedric took her to the side, past a set of pillars, and they both sat themselves down on a cushioned sofa, secluded from the activities of the party. He kicked his feet up onto a small stool. “Please.” he insisted.

     Adelaide tucked aside a few fallen curls. “What has my father said to you about my marriage?” she asked.

     Dedric rubbed at the corner of his mouth with a thumb. “Ah, Adelaide,” he began. As chief of staff, and a close friend to the Redbanes, he had the privilege of freely calling the princess by her first name.

     “Dedric, please.” she begged. She was feeling desperate.

     The young man hesitated a moment. He flicked his eyes from side to side, as though to check whether the emperor was going to suddenly appear and catch him out. Dedric let out a sigh. “Your father has been thinking of marrying you off to,”

     “Princess Adelaide!” a voice cut in from afar.

     Adelaide and Dedric lifted their eyes up ahead. She had not realised Vestus Tore, the lone King of Skull Island, had been invited to the party.

     The king barely had any allies, hence the ‘Lone King’ title he had had bestowed upon him by the other kings and queens of Iradas. He was a weak and sickly boy of seventeen years, who two years ago had named himself king of a god forsaken island. He had few followers but loyal ones nonetheless, and even so, his wealth was still growing slowly.

     The boy-king gave her a bow and took her hand in his, kissing it. “King Vestus, if it pleases your Majesty.” he said.

      Adelaide looked back at Dedric as she replied. “It does.”

      Vestus smiled sheepishly. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket, coughed into it, and slid it back beneath his tunic. He pointed a hand at Dedric. “If I may, some time alone with Adelaide.”

      Dedric sat deeper into his chair, smiling wryly as he said, “The Emperor, her father, won’t be too pleased to see you near the princess.”

     Vestus shrugged, his straggly blonde hair brushing against his shoulders. “I am a king; I have that right.” he replied.

     Adelaide gave the chief a small nod, and with great hesitation, Dedric finally left her.

     Vestus claimed the space in which Dedric once sat. He even dared to sling an arm around the back of the sofa. His blue eyes met Adelaide’s. “What do you suppose people think of me, Adelaide?” Vestus worried.

     “I don’t believe they think of you at all.” Adelaide cut in, looking rather bored. “Forgive me if I sound rude, but your desire to become respected by climbing above the status you deserve is a vain pursuit of power,” Adelaide paused to look back at Vestus. “Which I personally don’t think you’d be able to handle.”

     Vestus’ face paled, his lower lip quivering. For a moment it looked like he would cry, but Adelaide could not torture her friend any longer. Her mouth tilted upwards as she tried not to smile, his sigh of relief a sign that he realised she was teasing him.

     “V, I’ve told you before to stop worrying about what all these old-fashioned, ancient creatures think of you.” Adelaide said, gently patting his knee as she spoke.

     “You heartless witch, I hate you.” Vestus complained, elbowing her playfully. “I thought for a second you were turning into them, that they had finally brainwashed you into thinking I’m nothing but a foolish boy-king.”

     Adelaide poked her tongue out at him. “I told you I’d get you back for that comment you made about my last ball-gown.”

     “Oh, the pink one that made you look like a strawberry cake?” Vestus teased, grinning back.

     He had been ordered into isolation for several weeks by his doctor, after an especially severe bout of illness. His long period away had left him nervous that his friend had been turned against him in his absence. Adelaide’s ruthless banter proved she had not. Vestus was not one to take criticism easily from others, but with Adelaide, nothing was off-limits to poke fun at each other.

     Although she loved him dearly, she worried that he was sometimes not as brave or thick-skinned as he needed to be. Poking fun at the things he worried about helped him remember that the things others said about him were just mindless idiots babbling. Vestus was ambitious and, in his own way, brave for stealing his father’s fishing boat at fifteen and sailing for an island to call his own. Sadly, his age and unstable health meant that the leaders of other kingdoms didn’t think highly, or as Adelaide had half joked, at all of him. He was often the butt of jokes and cruel rumours.

     Adelaide was one of his only true friends, two young people wanting to be taken seriously and both failing – one due to her gender and the other for his health. He often tried but fell short when responding to criticism or confrontation, usually preferring to disappear to a lonely corner where he could sulk instead. The young king held his ground; shuffling closer to Adelaide, he placed a pale and trembling hand over hers.

     “Ada.” he tried again.

     Adelaide squeezed his hand affectionately. “Don’t torment yourself with these thoughts tonight. I’m preparing to be sold off like prize cattle, so put on a smile for me and pretend you want to be here so I’m not the only one. We’ll have plenty more opportunities to discuss our miserable fates. Try to enjoy yourself.” She gathered up her skirts and left, leaving Vestus to marvel at how well she changed her mask to that of an excited young bride-to-be. Perhaps his friend was right.

     When Adelaide was out of sight, Vestus let out a loud cough and began stomping his foot. He pulled out his handkerchief and coughed some phlegm into it, gagging violently as he did.

     The lone king had an unfortunate case of haemoptysis, which caused him to cough up blood on bad days and phlegm on better ones. Not to mention, the boy could do nothing without robbing his lungs of more air than he seemed to be taking in.

     “What did you do to my daughter?” Hathor Redbane asked him.

     Vestus hadn’t even noticed the Emperor of Iradas approaching him. For a moment, he felt rather embarrassed and gave Hathor a hurried bow. “Emperor, you honour me with your presence.” he replied. Vestus’ blue eyes darted between the four guards Hathor had brought with him, needing a break from all the noise in the hall.

     “You did not answer my question.” Hathor said with a touch of impatience.

     Vestus was in awe at his appearance, the thick crown of gold atop his brown hair; red rubies and sparkling white diamonds embedded in the intricate whorls of gold. “Forgive me, Emperor, we were just talking. My sincerest apologies.” he replied.

     Hathor drew closer to Vestus and pressed a finger against the boy’s trembling chest. “I had only extended an invitation to you out of politeness. My daughter’s friendship with you embarrasses me. Do not use her as an opportunity to worm your way into my court.” Hathor moved his hand away and gave Vestus a once over. He was unimpressed.

     “Begging your pardon, Emperor, I would never,” Vestus began. “I have a court of my own-”

     The Hathor’s eyes flashed. “Do not anger me, boy, you’re weak, with silk for skin. It’s time you grew some scales. Spend less time gossiping with the women and more time training something other than your mouth. The Allied Kingdoms need warrior Kings in this war against the Valentis and their allies.” he paused and shook his head in disappointment. “Do everyone a favour, run back to Skull Island and stay there.”

     Vestus watched the emperor go. He gave himself a moment, just to let the words sink in, and even though he promised Adelaide he would try to stay; his courage failed him, and he left the festivities of the Fort to go and sulk alone, like he usually did.