It was nearly midnight. Bomi was sleeping like a log on the bed, while Mother had gone for her usual nightly stroll. I took off my robe and stared at my reflection, wondering why my tattoo was different from everyone else's and what the symbols truly meant.
When I was born, Mother said my tattoos weren't recognized by any of the Seven Elders and weren't even found in any scripture of our kingdom. I was the only one able to form crystals out of my energy. The others, whose tattoos were normal, could control water, earth, or air—some could even command flames—and the rare ones could move souls. I guessed I was the most special, since only I had those tattoos in the entire history of the kingdom. But I was told to keep them secret for the meantime, so I always covered them.
I wondered what else I was capable of doing with my abilities. Still staring at my reflection with a soft smile, I thought about what tomorrow might bring.
"Weirdo! Why are you smiling all by yourself?"
I turned and saw Bomi staring at me with her eyes wide open.
"Go to sleep, moron," I told her, snuggling close and pulling the Machairodus-patterned blanket over us both.
The warm sun rose high in the blue sky, the cocks crowing one after another. From the milkmaid milking the cows, to the farmers in the fields, to the guards at their posts, to the servants sweeping and dusting—and even down to the polisher shining the king's shoes—everyone had their duties to perform in the castle.
Today didn't feel as lively as I expected. Honestly, I wanted nothing more than to sleep all day, but I couldn't, even if I wanted to. It was time for breakfast, and if you were late, you'd definitely miss it—unless you were in the King's Chamber section, where things always happened more majestically and royal-like.
I couldn't wait to bathe, so I went straight to the dining room with Bomi to get breakfast. To my surprise, the hall was almost empty.
I went into the kitchen with Bomi bouncing excitedly beside me while I held her hand tight."Yay! More bun rolls for us!" she exclaimed with joy.
There was still a baker in the kitchen. We stood in a corner, watching him place the soft bread into the oven.
"Princess, you're here?" he said, closing the oven door.
He walked toward us and bent down to pull Bomi's ear."Ow! Ow! You're pulling too hard!" she whined.
"Did you oversleep again, you lazy girl? Didn't you wake up early this time?" he scolded.
"Don't even bother going anymore—it should be almost over. The King summoned the Queens of High and the Queens of Low, along with all his children and the lords. The castle staff were called to attend as well. You two were supposed to be there, but going now will only distract and annoy the King. Stay here and bake with me. You're quite the pro already," he said.
"A pro, you think?" I chuckled.
"I wonder why he called everyone. Mother didn't come back last night… I wonder where she is," I murmured to myself, tilting my head in confusion.
"Shall we bake some bread and pie, Princess?" the baker asked, handing me a wooden roller.
I joined him in his cozy kitchen, ready to learn the magic of baking. My little sister, full of mischief, explored every treat in sight.
The cook taught me the art of mixing, measuring, and creating perfect pie crusts, while my sister discovered the joy of tasting every mixture she could find. The baker was a wiry man with hollow, bony cheeks, thick hair along his arms and jaw, and a dark moustache that arched neatly above his lips. He kneaded the dough, pressing and folding it with steady rhythm, little clouds of flour puffing up each time his hands sank into the soft mass.
I felt like asking something strange—so I did."Mr. Baker, sir, you make delicious cakes and bread every day, right? How come you're not fat?"
The baker laughed heartily, placing both hands on his chest, forgetting they were covered in flour, leaving prints on his apron."My dear, when you do something over and over again, you eventually get tired of it," he said.
Bomi stirred from her sugar rush, hands on her stomach as it grumbled. Her face was covered in cream and butter."I don't think I'll ever get tired of bun rolls and cakes," she said.
The baker patted her on the head. "One day, you will."
He said it with such a straight face that I couldn't tell if he was still talking about cake.
Then, from the dining hall not far away, I heard distant noise—it sounded like whatever was happening in the castle was over. I waved goodbye to the baker and dragged Bomi outside. I didn't have the strength to carry her, and she'd probably burst if I touched her swollen belly, so I just pulled her gently by the shoulder.
All the princesses had formed small chatter groups, so I slipped into one, leaving Bomi sitting on the floor. Just as I was about to squeeze in, another princess tapped me on the shoulder and started talking rapidly. Before I could make sense of her words, a whole group gathered around us.
"Can you believe it, Korj? I think the queen should have been pardoned at least," one of them said.
"Yeah, you're right," another replied.
"I was there too, but could you guys just brush through what happened?" I asked quietly, scratching my elbow.
"Weren't you there?" she asked.
"I was, but... you know, I was sleepy during the whole thing—hormones and stuff," I said awkwardly.
The princesses stared at me strangely.
"You overslept, didn't you?" Maria asked.
Maria—the thirty-sixth princess—whose mother, the fifteenth queen, had acid poured on her because of her rare beauty. She had once been a Queen of High but was demoted after the attack and chose to remain hidden in her room ever since. The culprit, a jealous Queen of Low, was thrown into a pit to be devoured by a pride of Machairodus, and her children were exiled.
Queens in our kingdom were not chosen as one, but divided by origin. Those taken from within the kingdom—often beautiful daughters of noblemen or widows of palace lords—were placed in the category of Queens of Low. From beyond our borders came princesses and women of royal lineage, brought across kingdoms to bind treaties in silk and crown; they were few, but were called Queens of High. Yet, among women from within the kingdom, there existed a rare path upward—if one possessed a beauty so divine it seemed touched by the gods, she could rise above all others and be named a Queen of High. Such women were legends.
"You know the fifth queen, right? Her only daughter, Hjon—you know her?" one of the girls began. "She was accused of stealing the King's Dragon-Earth bracelet. She was supposed to be married to the second-best knight in the Kingdom of Aria—the Land of Gold. They searched her room this morning, found the bracelet, and she confessed she stole it after hearing from some storyteller that it granted immortality."
"Anyway, the King beheaded her and her maid. You should've seen her face, Korj!" one princess said, a little too eagerly. The others looked at her uncomfortably.
"Her maid too? She didn't do anything," I said.
"She was involved, I guess?" Ryoka replied from the crowd.
"Ryoka!" I exclaimed, extending my arms to hug her. "Where were you? I haven't seen you in ages."
Ryoka and I trained almost every day. She dreamed of becoming the first female knight in Crystansia. She was the first daughter of the ninth Queen of High—my stepsister.
Ryoka was in her twenties, tall and athletic, her body sculpted by years of training. Her short, purple hair shimmered under the light, and the sharp confidence in her stance marked her as both capable and unyielding.
I looked at Bomi, still asleep and drooling with her back against the wall. Ryoka and I giggled before lifting her up from where she'd drifted off on the cold floor. Her head lolled softly against Ryoka's shoulder, still drooling, her breath slow and even. I steadied her legs gently, and together we carried her through the noisy corridors until we reached the chambers. There, we laid her on the bed, tucked her in, and made sure her sleep remained undisturbed.