Back to BooksThe Prophecy Box

Here is a sample of the Prologue and first chapter of The Prophecy Box. Enjoy!

PROLOGUE

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

She’d had her fairytale ending.  She had married the prince she loved.  She was supposed to live happily ever after.

Things weren’t supposed to go sour quite so soon.  This was the part where the story stopped.  Everyone was happy; everyone had celebrated the union of the newly crowned princess and her handsome prince; everyone expected their love to blossom like a birdsong on a spring day.

Octavia sighed and sat down on the edge of the plushy bed.  She was supposed to dance at her wedding reception in an hour.  The rectangular mahogany box that she held in her lap was adorned with a stained glass rose on the top face.  It was an odd rose, colored purple instead of rouge.  The opaque quality of the glass made it impossible to see the treasures contained inside.  She crumpled up her thin lips in a scowl.  Then, she shook the box violently in frustration and anger.

The day had been perfect up until now.

While she readied herself in her little cottage that morning, with the light of the sun beaming through the windows, the doves had swooped in, swathing her head in lace.  The squirrels bounded excitedly, putting together a sweet perfumed bouquet.  The mice squeaked with pleasure as she slipped on the pearl necklace they had so cleverly strung together.  The deer carefully brought in her gold sequined slippers and placed them at her feet.  It was a scene straight out of Cinderella, something she had wanted and wished and longed for, for her entire life.

When the time came to step into the carriage to go to the chapel, all of her woodland friends chorused her with sweet blessings and encouragement.  Lovingly, she waved to them all and relaxed against the cushions to enjoy the blissful last journey down the path from her small, dilapidated cottage to the palace.  She would never traverse the simple wooded foot road again and she relished the fact that her life as a princess would provide her with extravagance that she never thought she would experience.

The arrival of her carriage at the chapel sparked activity in the awaiting crowd.  Choruses of “Long live the princess!” and gasps of “She’s so beautiful” surrounded her like a warm coat.  The little girls sighed with delight and the little boys cheered.  It was all applause and awe as Octavia stood and adjusted her voluminous white skirts in preparation for being handed down to the ground.

A shudder had suddenly coursed through the whole of her body.  This was a major commitment.  She would never be a peasant again.  She would no longer be free of the institution of marriage.  She would never have the ability to hide away in her cottage and experiment with magic.
This realization shocked her because all her life she had wanted nothing more than to become a princess.  Even as the eighth child of a peasant, she had believed that anything was possible.  Though her chances of becoming a princess seemed unreachable and highly improbable, as her siblings had often taunted while they huddled around the table to eat the slop her father had managed to procure for his large family, she had held onto the dream.  And she had done everything in her power to make it attainable. 

The shudder also surprised her because she truly loved Prince Philipp.  He was a good-hearted, genuine, wonderful man.  He had showered her with his serenades and won her over in an instant.  He treated her woodland friends with respect and showed her the same kindness.  He took her on romps through the palace grounds with his horse Marcus and picnics in his favorite hideouts in the woods surrounding the castle.  He would whisk her away to search for his secluded havens because he wanted to show her who he was as a person, and not just as a title.  Philipp wanted to share his life with her.  It had been the best six months of her life.
And she was married to him.  She wobbled her right wrist and took pleasure in the tinkle of the gold bangles, the mark of royalty.  Instinctively, she reached up and touched the rubies and other jewels encrusting her new crown, another symbol that meant she belonged in the palace.

Placing the jewelry box on the bed, she walked over to the vanity, sat down on the hand-embroidered cushion, and stared at the reflection in the mirror.  Her raven hair and green eyes had always been her best features.  With the gold crown, she looked like a goddess.  Octavia smiled at herself, noticing that her face seemed slightly sinister.  She screwed her face up and scowled at herself.  She could never be a goddess…or even a fantastic sorceress.  It was too late for that. 

To become a famed sorceress, she would have started learning magic at a very young age.  She didn’t start dabbling until she was twelve, when she stumbled across an old sorceress whose powers were fading and was coming to the end of her long life.  The sorceress had given her the basic tools to begin practicing.  But Octavia knew she was a far cry from how powerful the sorceress had been.  No, she knew she would never become a legendary sorceress.

But she would settle for the role of Queen instead.

The Queen.

Queen Imogen had taken to Octavia right away, when her only child had first introduced them.  The queen had brought Octavia under her wing to train her in the ways of a royal, for Imogen was once a commoner and knew what a tiresome and tedious process it was.  She knew that since Octavia was a peasant, the learning curve would be more drastic.  She cared for her wellness and health.  She provided Octavia with new clothes.  She advised Octavia in ways to deal with her peasant friends, even though Octavia didn’t have any.  She instructed Octavia in proper etiquette and decorum for entertaining guests.  She trusted Octavia with many of the secrets of the palace grounds.

When Prince Philipp had announced that he had asked for her hand in marriage and that Octavia had accepted, Queen Imogen sent a carriage for Octavia immediately and welcomed her into the family with a grand soiree and open arms.  She was Octavia’s sole supporter, since Octavia had no family left.

Philipp’s father had been less warm and was still wary of her.  King Roland knew himself to be a good judge of character.  Something about Octavia had struck him in the wrong way.  Whether it was her attitude or her behavior, she never knew.  But she could see the distrust in his eyes when he regarded her across the dinner table or when he was dancing with her at a ball.  But his guarded outlook on all the people around him, save his immediately family, made him the good king he was.  She admired him for that.  He was famed for his judicious rule and firm fist.  He held everyone at arm’s length, which made his reputation even more esteemed as a general, a judge, and most of all a ruler.

Octavia surveyed the spacious room.  It was decorated like a queen’s room.  Everything sparkled under the glow of the lit wall sconces.  The casual flicker of the candle flames made the stone walls of the room almost magical and reverent.  She took in the expensive décor: the ornate four poster bed, the silk of the scarlet bedspread and pillow linens, and the red velvet drapes covering the floor-to-ceiling windows. She admired the expertly woven tapestries adorning each wall, the luxurious soft gray carpet under her feet, the large wardrobe of exquisite gowns, and the gold-plated assortment of perfume bottles atop the dresser. She even noticed the ivory detail around the mirror in the vanity.

A twinge of jealousy clung at her heart.  But Octavia calmed herself at once.

She reminded herself that she hadn’t even seen her own room yet.  It would be a room newly prepared for her.  It would be a room fully furnished and as beautiful as this one.  She could hardly wait to see it.  Another shudder coursed through her limbs, this time an exhilarating sort of chill.

It felt like the queen was with her in the room.

Perhaps it was the irregularity of the candle flames or perhaps it was her own guilty conscience that made her jumpy.  She took another glance around to make sure that no one, indeed, was spying on her as she trespassed in the queen’s spacious living quarters.  It was silent…almost.  There was a hint of music coming from the main ballroom downstairs.  Music for her wedding reception.  Music to herald her as the new Princess Octavia.  She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  It was all happening so fast.
She glanced at the jewelry box.  The small innocuous object had just changed the fate of her happiness.  The prophecies it spouted were like the magic mirror on the wall in Snow White, only it was less general, she felt, and it didn’t answer to “Who is the fairest of them all?”

Gingerly, she picked it up and asked it the same question she had asked so many times before, “Rose of royalty, what does the future hold?”

“The Prince will betray,” came the prophecy for the second time that night. 

It was a different prophecy than before.  It used to say, “You shall be Queen.”  That was the prophecy she was accustomed to hearing.  She had known that after her wedding vows, the prophecy would change, now that she was in line to become the next Queen of Northenland.  But she never expected this.

She asked the box again, “Rose of royalty, what does the future hold?”

“The Prince will betray.”

She didn’t think it was possible.  Prince Philipp, betray her?  It was unthinkable.  He loved her as she loved him.  His loyalty to her would never fail.  He would laugh at the mere concept of the idea if she told him about the prophecy.  He would scoff, he would reassure, he would soothe.  In many senses, she knew that she had found a diamond in the rough.  How many men would have married a peasant girl with no family and treated her as he had, with honor and conviction?  How many men would have embraced her loneliness and accepted that her only friends were animals?  How many men would have shown her over and over that she was his prize, his beloved, his future queen?  Not one, except Philipp.

Philipp was one of a kind.  Philipp had just married her.  Philipp was now hers.

Octavia sighed in frustration.  The prophecy had to be wrong!  How could Philipp possibly betray her?

She thought about what tomes Queen Imogen had taught her throughout the duration of the engagement period.  One in particular stood out: A loving wife should be diligent while her husband is away; she should have the castle ready and comfortable when he returns to his home.  Octavia focused on the part where it said, “…while her husband is away…”

She hated being apart from Philipp already, how could she manage it now that they were married? Actually, she hated that she wasn’t able to watch Philipp all the time while they were separated.  She didn’t mind being on her own.  In fact, she liked snooping around doing her own business.  It was Philipp she didn’t trust completely.

How would she know if her husband was entertaining other women in his life?  It was widely known that the king in their neighboring country had several concubines.  Octavia frowned.  Philipp could indiscreetly have an affair and she would never see it.  Of course, he would never consider the idea because he was an honorable man.  But he did go on several expeditions alone with his father’s army and she knew he would continue to do so in the future.  He would be gone for weeks.  There was no telling what the man did while he was alone.

Octavia’s heartbeat quickened as her mind spun out of control.  If there were times when she and Philipp were apart during their engagement, then, of course, there would be times apart when they were married, too.

She huffed.  She had figured out ways to spy on Philipp here and there while they were apart.  Would her spells and enchantments work while married to him?  She had a gut feeling that they wouldn’t.  Firstly, because she wouldn’t have access to her potions.  Secondly, because she couldn’t reveal to him that she had dabbled in sorcery.  And thirdly, because there wasn’t enough time in the day to spend poring over spells and old magic books; she would have to assume the duties of a princess.  She quickly dismissed the idea and concentrated at the matter at hand.

If Philipp would betray her, it would have to be done apart from her.  And she couldn’t possibly follow every step of her husband on foot.  After all, she had chores and agendas to attend to.

Suddenly, an image conjured in her mind. 

Jessalynn. 

The girl who was Philipp’s only other confidant, other than Octavia.  The girl who had grown up with him in the Northport Royal Academy.  The slender girl with glossy sunshine hair and an attitude that blessed everyone she met.  The girl who would make Philipp betray her.

Jessalynn had a history of poking her nose into other people’s business.  Hadn’t she asked Octavia several times if there wasn’t anything she could help her with in the wedding preparations?  Hadn’t she offered to teach her history of their country and practical matters around the palace?  Hadn’t she told her specific foods and beverages that Philipp loved?  She was such a busybody. 

What made it worse was that Queen Imogen loved Jessalynn like a daughter.  She preferred Jessalynn’s company to hers.  The other day, Imogen had taken Jessalynn’s suggestion for orange blossoms as part of the wedding ceremony decorations over her own, white lilies.  The queen had stated that traditionally, orange blossoms represented purity and honesty, which were two elements that were necessary in a marriage.  She quickly dismissed Octavia’s white lilies and said that white lilies were traditionally used for funerals.  This was a wedding, a celebration; orange blossoms were preferred.  The queen smiled at Jessalynn for her mundane wisdom.  Jessalynn was always right by the queen.  Jessalynn was too close to Philipp as a friend.

And she was a threat.  Philipp’s smile always broadened at the sight of his best friend.

Octavia narrowed her eyes.  She knew what she must do.
She stood abruptly, brushed off her skirts, and made to leave.  In a split second decision, she hastily ran back and grabbed the jewelry box.  Octavia rushed out of the queen’s room and flew down to the ballroom.

The prophecy would be proved wrong.  Philipp would never betray her.  She would do everything to prevent it.

ONE

Many, many years later
“Papa!  Papa, I’m here in the stable!  Anna is with me!”

A beautiful brown chestnut whinnied affectionately against her neck, sending goose bumps down her arms.  Camilla inhaled deeply at the mixed scent of old wood, dry hay, dust, wax smoke, and manure.  The palace stable was her sanctuary.  She could spend hours listening to the horses and the creaks in the stalls, watching the candlelight flicker to and fro across the ceiling and walls.  Even though the sun had not yet begun to set, the windowless stable required alternative light for her see.

The nose of the horse beside her nuzzled against her neck again.

“Oh, Star, I’m sorry,” Camilla rubbed the silky smooth mane of her favorite mare.  “I know you hate when I yell.”  She offered Star a crunchy, crisp, red apple.

“But Lady loves when you yell,” Anna said, glancing at her best friend from across the stall.  She had her hands buried in the voluminous tresses of her horse of choice as she combed it to a shine.  “Actually, she just loves to run free with the wind in her mane and a carefree rider on her back.”  She also grabbed an apple from the bushel basket on the sawdust floor and savored the juicy munch when Lady took a generous bite.

“Camilla, are you feeding Star yet another apple?” they both heard Camilla’s father call from outside the stable.

Camilla and Anna looked at each other and grinned.  The two best friends were known for indulging the palace horses, especially Star and Lady.

“Are you two ready for the journey?” a husky, tall man dressed in a navy blue palace guard’s uniform entered the giant stable and made it seem moderately sized.  His hooded eyes swept over the dwindling candle, his daughter, her best friend, and the collection of apples in between them.  He frowned.  “Camilla,” he stared at his daughter, “what have I told you about overfeeding the horses?  Do I need to have Edgar lecture both of you again?” He included Anna in his scolding, since Edgar, the stable manager, was her father and she should have known better than to indulge the horses with treats.

Anna stood up and rolled her eyes, “My father is not about to lecture me again.  I warned him last time that, if he did, he would find manure in his stew instead of beef.”

The audacity of the sixteen-year-old girl sent William’s head shaking.  “You girls will find out sooner or later that someday, not every man will bow to your will.”

Camilla chirped up, “But, Papa, you and Ed love us anyway.”

A smile spread across William’s face.  “Well, girls, you need to hasten, the party leaves in half an hour.”

“We’ll be there, Papa,” Camilla assured him.  “We only need to grab our packs and we’ll be ready.”

“Don’t forget your heavy cloaks,” he said, the parenting tone already creeping into his instruction.  “The chill of the wind can be biting at this time of year.”  He turned on his heel and left the two best friends to make faces at each other.

The outing they were embarking upon was unique to their kingdom.  Their king, Vernon, had heard the tales of the mystery of the disappearance of the civilization to the north while growing up.  There were such fantastical tales of a country that was last ruled by a King Roland until all traces of the people suddenly died out and vanished.  It had been thousands of years since a trace of life was heard of from Northenland.  People rumored that the land was haunted, that evil demons had whisked the entire population away on a whim.  Others passed along stories of a wicked witch cursing the entire land and all who lived there.  The old wives loved to spread accounts of sorcery and enchantments.
King Vernon of Easterland was determined to get to the heart of the stories.  In so doing, about every two months, he ordered an expedition to the ruins to dig and to explore.  He was looking for clues.  Clues that would point him to the origin of the tales and to the truth of the Northenland people.

Their comrades to the West and South had no desire to explore the ruins.  They were simply happy to let the old wives’ tales be.  They all thought King Vernon a little crazed for his pursuit of the truth.  But Vernon would not be deterred by their lack of enthusiasm and his expeditions continued in dogged determination, becoming even more frequent as he aged.

Camilla thought him unusual.  Well, she thought him interesting.  Since her mother had died in childbirth, her father had had no choice but to place her in the care of a kindly neighbor for several weeks at a time to fulfill his duty as a palace guard and accompany the king’s expedition.  She didn’t understand why he had to leave her at first, but over the years, she had learned to adjust to King Vernon’s fickle will.  And she had inquired about the Northenland people herself among the elder commoners who lived nearby, but nothing amounted to anything.  Every once in a great while, the expedition would find an artifact: a crown here, a jeweled cup there.  It only told them what they knew: that a great and important ruler had existed and that the spoils of his riches boasted his successful leadership.

She knew that since her father was a member of the palace guard, he had been a part of every single wild expedition that King Vernon had ordered.  On every journey, either the king, himself, or one of his five sons led the mission and it was necessary to take precautions for his life.  Recently, in the last decade, King Vernon’s sons had taken turns being in charge of their father’s pet project, since the elderly man was coming to the end of his age.  Only in the past year, after Camilla had turned sixteen, did William bring her along with him.  She was too old to be babysat by a kind neighbor and she became bored with the simple commoner life.  She wanted adventure in the great wide somewhere.

“I suppose we should ready ourselves for the trip,” Anna said.  “It is a long flight.”

“Oh, don’t worry so.  The flight is only four days and I’ve told you a thousand times that the dragons won’t be too terrible.  They really love flying during the fall,” Camilla excused, “at least that’s what Papa says.  Besides, Papa and I have been on this trip dozens of times.  King Vernon has not changed one bit.  He’s ordered this same expedition four times already this year alone.”

“Yes, but this time I’ll be with you.  Remember, I haven’t been on this particular outing before.”  Anna sounded nervous, and she stopped combing Lady’s glossy mane to whisper, “I’ve heard so many ghost stories about the ruins.”

Rolling her eyes, Camilla opened the stall door to let Anna out and then picked up the bushel of apples.  “Oh, please, that’s just Michael spouting rubbish,” she spoke of their classmate in their small school consisted of the children of the common people within the palace.  “Servant School,” she had coined years ago. 

Camilla laughed at Anna’s dubious expression.  “You know that he’s only trying to scare you.  He likes you, you know.”

“I know,” Anna’s sigh revealed a trace of unwanted frustration.

Leading the way, Camilla set the chamberstick on the ground at the entrance of the stable and blew out the candle.  She confidently swung the apples in between her and her best friend as they briskly walked away from the palace grounds and through the back gate across the moat.  They turned around and waved at the four guards posted at the pull-up bridge and at the twelve spearmen lining the battlement.  The palace workers were all housed in cottages lined across the grassy moor, like soldiers ready for war.  Camilla and Anna briskly took the ten-minute foot path to Camilla’s house, enjoying the coolness of the dusky sky and the smell of musty fallen leaves and smoke whisking from the cottage chimneys.  The grass was already yellowing and soon the frost would come.

“Why do you always have to leave at night?” Anna complained when the two entered the cottage.  “It’s too eerie.”

Camilla shivered and opened the shutters to the living room to let the fading sunlight through.  The fire had not been stoked for hours and she didn’t bother relighting it, since they were to leave soon.  She followed Anna upstairs to her room where they had assembled their overnight packs the night before.  They needed to grab their cloaks and to stuff any last minute items into their bags.

“We leave at night for cover,” she explained, searching through the disarray in her wardrobe for her heavy boots.  “Riding with dragons is an exclusive honor and King Vernon doesn’t want other lands to know that we have trained so many.  And, when we reach the Enchanted Wood, we should definitely not be seen.  Remember why?” she pulled her head out of the depths to watch Anna fixing her hair in the tiny fragment of mirror she had placed on the windowsill.  When Anna didn’t respond, Camilla poked her head back into the folds of her only dresses and continued, “The woods surrounding the Northenland castle has been enchanted.  The trees will move at will.  They will even throw objects at you to deter you from your journey.  I don’t know of any being who has survived crossing through it on foot.  Although, Papa frequently talks about bandits living in the Wood.  Who knows how they survive?  It doesn’t matter if you are a prince or a pauper, the forest will destroy.  It’s very volatile.”

“Has the forest always been enchanted?” Anna asked.

“That’s what all the legends say,” Camilla discovered one boot and tossed it onto the floor behind her.  “But I think it might have been normal once.  There has to be a reason why trees move on their own.  It’s not normal.  They had to be put under a spell.”

“You think there’s a witch or sorceress living within the Wood?”

“Probably.”

“So, that’s why you fly,” Anna said, understanding.

“The cover of nightfall and the flight of dragons overhead give us the best chance to reach the ruins without being compromised.”  Camilla shifted one of her long cloaks out of the way.  “Ah ha!  I found it.”  She emerged with her other muddy, worn boot in hand.

“How do look?” Anna whirled around, spread her arms out, and asked to be analyzed.  “Am I ready for the expedition?”

Camilla gave her best friend a once over from head to toe. 

Anna’s long red hair was bound by a leather strap, revealing the snow white paleness of her skin.  Her complexion was marred by a scattering of freckles on her nose and across her cheeks, and the rosiness of her slight tan revealed that she was a commoner’s daughter.  The green of her eyes made her seem like she had more fire in her than she really had.  The brown of her long-sleeved dress was plain and scuffed, with a v-neck accenting the smooth skin and slenderness of her neck.  It fell to her feet, where the hem was ratted by years and years of use.  Across her thin waist was a patterned brown band of cloth, loosely tied and hanging down her right hip.  Her tan leather boots finished her ensemble.

“I would say you’re ready,” Camilla said.  “Do you have your cloak?”

Anna rolled her eyes.  “Yes, for the fifth time already.  You sound like my father or my mother…or your father, for that matter.”

“Yes, they seem to be quite worried.”

Anna grinned.  “It’s only because they know what kind of mischief we can cause.”

“But, of course,” Camilla laughed with her best friend. 

“Could you go downstairs and grab the loaf of bread in the breadbox?” she asked.  “We’ll need sustenance, unlike the palace footmen, who can go for hours and hours without eating.”

When her best friend headed down the stairs, Camilla started to braid her wavy brown hair.  When she finished, she tied it off with a thin strip of cloth and let it hang down her back, almost to her waist.  She examined her flushed face in the shard of mirror.  The brown eyes that stared back at her revealed an excitement that she thought she had contained.  Her complexion was not so beautiful and admired as Anna’s, since hers was darkly tan and burnt across the bridge of her nose.  She was also not as tall and slender as Anna but was more petite and slightly stout.  Her dress was just as worse for the wear as her best friend’s, only in an indigo dye with an ivory waist, and her boots were just worse than her friend’s, brown from mud and stained from grass.

It was no wonder why all the boys at school fancied Anna.  She was a Titian goddess and Camilla only her stumpy handmaiden.  Of course, Anna would never say that she was more naturally beautiful, she was too modest for that, but Camilla knew that if there was a popularity contest, her best friend would win.  It seldom irked her that Anna was well-liked.  To her, Anna was her best friend.  Anna was the one she could confide in and trust.

She heard Anna call up from the kitchen downstairs, “I found the bread.  Anything else?  Can I take the cheese?”

“Go ahead and pack it!” Camilla called back.  “And don’t forget to double check the canteens.” 

“I need to go over to my house to say good-bye to my mother before we leave!” Anna reminded her best friend, “Otherwise, she’ll hate me forever.  Don’t let me forget!”

“I’ll remember!” Camilla answered.

After primping for a second longer, she stuck her tongue out at herself in the mirror and grabbed both of their bags and both of their woolly cloaks.  Heading down the stairs, she almost fell due to her over-bounding excitement.  It was going to be such a fantastic trip!  She could already feel it.
It was really the first time she and Anna had been to the ruins together. 

Sure, they had been on trips together before.  Only it was with Anna’s father and they were small, short trips, since the Southland border was only one half day’s journey away.  The only perks of Edgar’s job as the palace’s stable manager were to deliver and exchange horses with the king of Southland.  It wasn’t much, but the girls delighted in escaping their commoner lives and enjoyed exploring the beaches and coastline of Southland.  In addition, the people of Southland were extremely wealthy.  Each house carried oil lamps instead of candles.  Even the lowly peasant girls had full wardrobes of unpatched dresses to choose from.  Camilla and Anna were commoners, a class above peasant, and they couldn’t understand how the Southland peasant girls could afford nice, new clothes, while their own clothes were always ragged and old.  The best friends also thought that the boys from Southland were ten times more attractive than the boys at their school. 

The journey to Southland also provided them with a glimpse of what a better education could do for them.  While Anna’s father was entertained by the king of Southland for the horse trade, the girls were sent to the Southland School of Academics, which not only consisted of peasant and commoner children but also of royal children.  And because the peasant and commoner children grew up rubbing elbows with the royal children, bonds were formed that would provide privileges in the future.  Camilla and Anna had witnessed peasant girls graduate to become handmaidens, instead of lowly kitchen maids.  They had seen peasant boys graduate to become assistants to the king, instead of lowly farm boys.  They took advantage of Edgar’s trips and accompanied him as much as they were permitted.  They considered themselves well-seasoned world adventurers.

However, Camilla was probably the more well-traveled of the two.  She had been to other parts of the country with her father by herself.  The perks of William’s job as a palace guard were much more attractive to both girls.  He was constantly summoned to accompany the royal family to a vacation spot or on an envoy with the king to a different country or even to guard a messenger on a quest.  The best thing about her father’s job, Camilla thought, was the access to the royal family.  Because she was allowed to travel with her father sometimes, she had glimpses of palace life.  Secretly, back at home, she and Anna spied on Prince Ferdinand, who was only two years older than they, and was the most handsome out of all the king’s sons.  They envisioned themselves as wives of princes, wreathed with wealth and comfort.  It was a fantasy they knew would never come true.

Instead, they became more obsessed with traveling.  Their more realistic future plans consisted of becoming traveling companions to Princess Lavinia, the youngest child and only daughter of King Vernon of Easterland.  However, Lavinia was only eight years old, and Camilla knew that the chances of becoming her traveling companion were slim at best.  Still, she and Anna strived to broaden their knowledge of the surrounding kingdoms, just in case a search was called and they were both interviewed.

This expedition would be eye-opening for Anna, and Camilla couldn’t wait to show her best friend the intricate details that she had discovered in the Northenland ruins on her own.

“I think I got everything,” Camilla took one last glance at the downstairs room.  She handed over Anna’s overnight pack and furry black cloak and Anna exchanged the items for the cloth-bound store of bread and cheese, which Camilla shoved into her own bag.  The two friends donned their hooded cloaks, buttoning and tying where appropriate to keep warm.

With one glance at the semi-circle sun on the horizon, Camilla quickly shut and locked the shutters on all the downstairs windows, ushered her best friend out of the house, and closed the front door with finality.

“Come on, let’s go say our farewells to your mother.”  Camilla made her way around the side of the house to the back, where a second row of cottages sat in an orderly line.  When she reached the fifth one to the right, she allowed Anna to open the door.

“Mother?” Anna’s eyes immediately warmed at the sight of a blazing fire in the living room and the delicious aroma of something brewing over it.

“Upstairs, dear!” came a female voice from the stairwell.

“Hiya, little brother,” Anna ruffled the five-year-old’s hair as she passed.

“Hello, James,” Camilla greeted.

He was sitting near the fire, playing with his toy soldiers and wooden blocks.  It was barely an acknowledgement nod that came from him as his army attacked the castle wall.
Camilla rolled her eyes and she followed Anna up the stairs to her parents’ room.

The difference between Anna’s house and Camilla’s house was like day and night.  While Anna’s house was warm and inviting, Camilla’s house was cold and stale.  While Anna’s mother had domesticated the home furnishings, Camilla and her father had left the decorating to the dust and pests. 

While Anna’s mother cooked, Camilla and William settled on bread, cheese, carrots, and a bit of dry beef for all their meals, with the occasional fig pudding or apple pie that Anna’s mother brought over in pity.  While Anna’s mother tidied up after her family, Camilla didn’t even want to think about the condition of her house.  It was a pigsty compared to Anna’s.

“Oh, there you are, darlings,” Helen quickly set down her needlework, stood from her rocking chair next to the bed, and came to embrace her daughter and her best friend.  “Are you ready for the adventure?” she eagerly asked.

“Yes,” Camilla spoke up.  “We’ve packed everything and checked the list twice.”

Helen cradled Anna’s face in her hands and kissed both of her cheeks.  “Have a wonderful time, dearest.  I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mother,” Camilla heard her best friend murmur into her mother’s ample bosom.

After a pause, Anna finally let her mother go and they all bounded down the stairs to distract James and demand a farewell from him to Anna.  It was a coincidental family moment when Anna’s father Edgar burst through the door, wishing his daughter a safe journey.

Camilla stood to the side, feeling lonely and a little bit jealous.  She’d had those feelings before, so she suppressed them and just smiled at the happy picture Anna’s family made as they said their final good-byes and kissed all around.

It was even more uncomfortable when Anna’s mother hugged Camilla for the second time for far too long.  “Oh, Camilla, do be safe,” Helen said, tears apparent in her voice.  She let her go for a moment to reach for a small cloth parcel.  She pressed the sack of freshly baked biscuits into her hands and then clung to Camilla again.  “I love you, Camilla.  Take care of yourself.”

“I always do,” Camilla tried to pull back to end the hug, but to no avail.  She was trapped in the large woman’s strong arms.

It was Anna who thankfully interrupted.

“Mo-ther!” she pulled them apart.  “Please don’t embarrass me.”

Helen wiped her tears away.  “Of course, Anna, dear.  I’ll see you two in three weeks!”

The chaotic babble that always surrounded Anna’s family accompanied them to the door, until it slammed shut, leaving a wall of silence in between Anna’s talkative family and the dusk on the outside of the cottage.

Camilla thought about what Anna was leaving behind to go on the three-week expedition with her, just because Camilla wanted to show her a new land.  She had never thought about it before.  For Camilla, family was only her and her father, free to do whatever they pleased.  In most cases, their activities were based on ridiculous, flighty whims.  For Anna, family was a unit of mother, father, brother, and sister.  Their family activities were a lot less dangerous and were probably more meaningful.  It must be nice to have a mother’s care, Camilla thought.  She was grateful for a friend who would sacrifice almost a month of her life away from her caring mother. 

She sighed quietly and the looked down at the sack of biscuits in her hand.  She put them into the inside pocket of her cloak and then waited.

“Here we go?” Anna broke the silence.  Her eyes twinkled with excitement.

Camilla nodded.  She and her best friend were about to embark on the best adventure yet.

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