Young Writers Society

I could not stop thinking of him. For the life of me I could not stop. The three days since I had seen him had passed in a blur; I knew I had talked to people and they had talked back, I had eaten things and drank things and I had slept at some point. But, I could not remember any details; my mind was all consumed by him. I didn’t know why I thought of him so much: I didn’t really know if I liked him or not, besides those beautiful eyes, since it had been ultimately him who had cut my time of peace and solitude short that night at the ball. Besides, I didn’t even know him. But I did, somehow, that was just it. I knew those eyes, those entrancing starry eyes. They were unforgettable.
“…she swung that sword around as skillfully as a great knight in battle. Damn near took my eye out mind you.” My uncle’s hearty chuckle and a retelling of the time when I first dueled him at swords cut through my foggy thought process.
Louis, Maria and George laughed along with him. Even Francis cracked a smile. I put on a smile too, covering up the fact that I hadn’t actually been listening to a word said.
“Oh yes, this is one hell of a woman you’re getting, Francis. Hope you can handle her,” James continued with a smile, patting me roughly on the back like I was a prize horse. I did my best not to scowl.
Francis flushed and looked down. Louis, however, did not look so content.
“What do you mean handle her?” A woman shouldn’t need to be handled. A woman should know her place. A woman should know that her responsibility is to be obedient and respectful to her husband,” Louis said seriously. I almost laughed at the pompousness of him.
It took everything I had to hold my tongue. “It was a joke, Louis-” my uncle started, but I cut him off. Apparently everything I had was not enough against my quick temper.
“Escusez-moi Monsieur, but I know my place, and it is not sitting around being subservient to a husband, if I have one. So, if you think that is the kind of woman I am or will ever be, you are tremendously mistaken!” The words tumbled from my mouth in my burst of anger.
Louis looked completely taken aback, Francis’ jaw had dropped to the ground, and my uncle had turned pink. Maria’s back had tensed and she put a warning hand on her husband’s arm.
George broke the silence by clearing his throat. “Forgive my dear cousin, King Louis. My grandmother, Lady Jane, has kept Isabel up all through the nights and mornings, using her as an assistant for planning our upcoming Garden Soiree. She has a highly acute headache from lack of sleep, poor soul,” George said expertly.
I put my hand to my head in the most believable way possible. “It is true. I have the most terrible headache. I have not felt well for days. If I’m not helping my grandmother, I am confined in my rooms. It has made me on edge. My apologies, Your Majesties,” I muttered excuses, regret clouding my anger. I knew I shouldn’t have snapped back, but I couldn’t help myself. Still, I should not have forgotten that my goal went hand in hand with staying on my uncle’s and Louis’s good side.
“I think it would benefit her if she took a walk and got some air,” George said, continuing with our show.
I nodded fervently in agreement, “I do think that would help.”
As I stood to go, George unhelpfully added, “With Francis.”
I would have kicked him if it could go unnoticed.
“Splendid idea, Giorgio!” Maria said with her queenly smile.
“Yes, splendid,” I repeated after her, trying to sound cheerful, “Francis?” I put my hand out to him as a gesture for him to join me. I didn’t really care at that point, anything to get out of there.
Francis obliged only out of politeness, rising up from his chair with much awkwardness. I curtsied and he bowed to Their Majesties and His Highness before we left the room. We were out in the gardens within minutes and I was finally relaxing.
We walked in silence for a while, a couple of feet apart. Every few moments Francis gained a burst of confidence and reached out as if to take my hand or step closer to me, but then instantly thought better of it and dropped his hand or backed away again. It was sad really: he looked so afraid to touch me or even come close when most guys I knew were eager to…or at least that was what Rose said. I liked him better for it though.
“How are you?” I asked out of nowhere. I found, surprisingly, that I truly wanted to know.
He glanced at me strangely from under the golden hair that had fallen into his face before murmuring, “I-I am well.”
He started to nervously fidget with his hands and looked around to everything but me. We walked in silence again.
Francis hesitated before asking, “And you?”
I did not bother to hide my surprise at him returning the question, even though he probably did it more out of manner than actual interest.
‘I’m…managing,” I responded in short.
“What do you expect will happen…if we actually get married?” I asked, staring deliberately at Francis. “I mean, between us.”
Francis stopped walking and turned to look at me directly for the first time today. Well, ever.
“You are very, straightforward?” Francis said in more of a question than statement.
I laughed at the truth of his proposal and urged him on, “Well?”
He considered it for a moment. “Well, I will hope that we could learn to be happy together. That is all I could wish form a happy life with a beautiful wife,” Francis said in a wise manner.
I stared at him, mouth agape, marveling at his words and at the fact this was the most I had ever heard him speak. I warmed towards him, the soft, sweet soul.
“But what of your desires, Francis? Don’t you wish you could choose your own path? Don’t you want to make your own decisions?” I qualified.
He considered again before replying in his soft voice, “Of course I would like to make my own choices, but I know that I have a duty to my parents to do what is best for my country. And, if what is best for my people is having my parents decide who I marry and what I do and where I go…well, I’ll just have to accept that.”
I felt myself smiling as I leaned in and interlocked my arm in his. For once, he did not shy away from the contact.
“You do state a worthy argument. You are quite the thinker. But, for argument’s sake, what do you say is the limit? When do the plots of our sovereigns and out duty to our country end and our lives begin? If we let others choose the paths we take, even for the best intentions, what choices are left for us to make?” I countered meaningfully.
For that, Francis had no answer.


“Come on George! Come on Ben! Put some vigor in those strides!” I shouted from my pace a few dozen meters ahead of them. An exhilarated laugh escaped my lips as I rode deeper into the trail. I rubbed the neck of my horse, Midnight, appreciatively.
I heard Nicholas, the son of the Earl of Campobasso and a long time friend, give a laugh from a couple of feet behind me. He was the only one who had kept up with me the whole time, him being one of the best riders that I knew.
“What do you say to slowing up a bit and giving those prancing ponies a chance to catch up, Nick?” I asked in a teasing manner.
Nicholas smiled as he slowed up. I slowed Midnight to a walk too. I took time to admire the tall trees and the soft whispers of the wind and the sound of twigs crunching under the weight of the horses. I was glad to finally be free of my room, and extremely grateful to Queen Maria for making that happen, even though it caused her dislike from my grandmother.
“Mind slowing up there, Isabel?!” George said breathlessly as he and Benjamin approached. “That last run almost destroyed the prize winner,” he said while vulgarly gesturing to his crotch.
Benjamin snickered and Nicholas gave an unbelieving snort.
“Gross,” I laughed, “but I doubt a two inch egg roll qualifies as a prize winner.”
George reddened and aimed a twig at me as Benjamin and Nicholas howled with laughter. I giggled just looking at them.
“Oh yeah?” George said with defiance before adding childishly, “Well, I bet I can outride you this time.”
I smirked, “Yes, because that totally has relevance.”
George flashed a grin before taking off in a dash down the trail. I smiled as I charged after him, loving the feel of a challenge.
I caught up to George easily, and could here Nicholas and Benjamin trying to catch up from behind.
“Nice try darling!” I yelled at George in triumph over the loud sound of horse hooves digging into the soft earth. I overtook him without effort, thundering though the trail with the enthusiasm of a hunter close to his kill. I spontaneously jumped off the trail when I saw a break in the trees beside me, not exactly knowing why, but wanting to. I heard George’s distant voice yelling at me to come back, but I kept going. And going. And going. Until…
“Look out!”
I did not respond fast enough to the shouted precaution, but Midnight did. As a blur that no doubt carried the voice of the alerter streaked by, Midnight skidded to a stop and reared on his hind legs, almost throwing me off. Within a second Midnight was back on all fours and was sprinting off through the woods in fright with so much force that the pin that held up my hair blew off and left my hair whipping around me violently from the wind.
I pulled and pulled on the reigns, but he would not yield, and if he didn’t stop soon, both of us would be taking a swim in the lake that was straight ahead. I rubbed my hands calmingly on Midnight’s jerking neck and pulled on the reigns even harder. Thankfully, Midnight finally responded and slowed to a trot before stopping completely, about a meter from the edge of the lake.
I sighed in relief and kissed the head of Midnight in thanks just as the rider responsible from the whole catastrophe rode up toward us. I built up for a good yelling as I turned to look at the rider, but as he came into clear view the words got stuck in my throat. When he was a few feet away, he dismounted his horse and walked up to mine.
“Princess Isabel,” he greeted in his sweet voice as he bowed deeply. He straightened up and looked me in the eyes with a smile.
Why did my heart seem to stop? Why did it then seem to start again at double speed? I almost shook my head at my silliness. These are the kind of feelings that attached themselves to Catalina, maybe even Rose, but not me. The sapphire and emerald in his starry eyes laughed at my confounded expression.
“I hope that I have not hurt or caused discomfort to Your Highness. My riding skills are quite mediocre,” he said, looking up at her.
I heard myself laugh. “I doubt even a mediocre rider could cause that much mess without trying.”
He laughed too. “True. My horse, Celeste, had a good fright when he saw a snake dangling from the branch of a tree we were idling under. He took off. No controlling him once he takes off, not for anything.”
What was his name? She knew him….she knew she did.
“Your name, sir?” I decided on asking rather than pondering.
“My name?” He thought for a second. “You don’t remember. You have forgotten me, along with my name.” He did not say it in a condemning way; he said it rather, with humor.
So, he knew me, it seemed. But that wasn’t quite a statement. Almost everyone in Italy knew me – which was why I was always reluctant to come. But he wasn’t Italian, I could tell that much. He was too patient, plus he had a slightly French accent to his voice. The more captivating statement was that he knew that I somehow knew him, that I was supposed to know who he was.
“Tell me,” I had a fervent need to know.
“Hmm……..” he stalled as he mounted his horse and brought it beside me, “…I think, you would like it better if you figured it yourself. But I’ll give you hints if you want. We can play 3Q, you love that game.”
He must have been a very close friend. One, because he knew that I loved 3Q – a game my Nonno used to play with me which involved me asking him three questions he had to answer in the hopes if me being able to figure out a previous inquiry – a game which I very much did enjoy except for this moment when I wanted a straight forward answer. And two, no one besides a close friend would have the guts not to answer the hard-pressed question of a royal. Sometimes, not even then.
Our heads both snapped in the direction of the sounds of approaching riders, approximately three, all of whom were calling for a specific person.
The starry eyed boy let out a boisterous laugh and said, “Someone is always looking for you, eh?”
I fought the urge to giggle as I shushed him. “Come on,” I said, leading him to another trail that lead back to the palace, “they can find me at the stables.”
He agreed with an amused look and we set up the trail back towards the palace, horses slow walks in sync.
“Where are you from?” I sighed, giving in.
He smiled in response, “You want to play?”
“Yes.”
“I am from France” – I had guessed correctly – “but I have lived here for quite some time,” he finished solemnly.
“Why did you move?” I questioned, wanting to know the reason behind his sudden mood change.
“Is that your second question?” he asked, his mouth fighting a smile.
“No, no.” How quickly I had forgotten we were playing, “What is your family name?”
He laughed and shook his head, “You can’t ask name questions.”
“Fine,” I huffed, and here I thought I was being clever, “What is your place at court?”
“I am in the service of King Louis and Prince Francis, but I am working to travel the world as a poet,” he said softly.
I laughed out loud; his answer had caught me off guard. “A poet? It suits you.”
He reddened at my response, not knowing what I meant by it.
“It’s a good thing,” I reassured him.
He nodded. “One more question.”
I thought. “Where, exactly, did we first meet?”
He smiled genuinely at me and gestured to the space around us. “Here.”
I looked around. We weren’t very far from the edge of the woods, where the trees ended and the meadows and gardens began. We buried my grandfather in the cyclamen garden, just like he had asked for before he died.
“We met in the woods?” I asked, unbelievingly.
“Yes, there to be exact,” he was pointing to a spot to the right of us, behind a thick trunk of a peach tree.
I turned to him with an eyebrow raised. “Wh-”
“Ahem, no more questions,” he grinned as he guided his horse over to the tree and plucked the plumpest peach from it. He didn’t eat it. He tossed it up and down.
I sighed as we approached the vast stables, disappointed that I had not gained the answer to my question. I wondered if I acted more like Anna or George if the starry eyed boy would answered my question directly.
We silently decided to ride the horses into the stables rather than getting off outside. The starry-eyed boy dismounted first, guiding his horse into a shed and taking off its saddle and reigns himself.
He came back to my side and offered me a hand as I was dismounting.
“I don’t need help,” I said stubbornly.
His answering smile was warm. “I know you don’t.”
I softened reluctantly and let him help. He took me firmly by the waist and lifted me down, holding me unnecessarily close so that I was pressed against his body as he lowered me to the ground.
He didn’t let me go when I was securely on the ground, he simply held me in his arms, his lips close enough to kiss mine. I wished he would. Wait! No I didn’t! What the hell was wrong with me? I barely knew him….at the present moment. Besides, I wasn’t a romantic. He was though; I could tell by the way he was looking at my lips. I should have stepped away from him, but my body wouldn’t move.
His eyes had moved my hair, which had tumbled forward and was showing off its hidden gold strands in the sunlight. It seemed that it was having the same affect on him as it did others. I was strangely pleased.
“ISABEL?” We heard George calling, his voice almost completely drowned by horse gallops. He sounded close.
He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing against my jaw line, before he sighed. He held me tighter for a fraction of a second before whispering something unintelligible in French and unwillingly pulling away. George, Benjamin and Nicholas appeared a moment afterwards.
George looked overwhelmed with relief, “Oh, thank God you’re here. Haven’t you heard us calling? We thought you had gotten eaten by a bear or something.”
I laughed at his worries, “There are no bears here, and I just went off course is all. There was no need to worry.”
“It’s not just that, I was beginning to think you had run off. Nonna would have my head if you took a run for it on my watch. She would think that I had helped you,” George said, gracefully sliding down from his horse and tossing the reigns to a passing stable boy, who already had his hands full with three other horses.
“I’ll be sure not to do that on your watch then.”
“And I would be forever grateful,” he joked with a smirk. He looked at an old fashioned clock that was mounted on the left wall of the stable. He cursed under his breath. “Come on then,” he said holding his arm out to me, “we are supposed to take lunch with the ambassadors of France and you need to change.”
I hesitated, not wanting to leave the starry-eyed boy. But, as I looked around, I found that he was no longer beside me, or anywhere in the stables for that matter. Where had he gone?
“I’ll come in a minute, I have to give Midnight some food,” I said quickly.
“There are people here for that,” George countered even quicker.
“I know, but I want to do it. He’s my horse,” I retorted.
He rolled his eyes at me and sighed. He never got why I liked to do things for myself when there were others that were glad to do it for me. “Fine, but hurry. You can’t be late.”
“I know, I know,” I placated him.
He nodded and walked swiftly away. Nicholas and Ben both gave me a bow before walking off after him.
Although feeding Midnight was just an excuse to look for the starry-eyed boy, I did end up doing it anyway. He showed his affection and thanks by tapping his nose against my head.
I made my way up and into the Palace, looking down every hall I passed. After a while I gave up and started to head to my apartments. When I arrived, I discovered him leaning against an antique table against a wall outside of my room. He was concentrating on tossing the same peach that he had plucked earlier up and down.
“Why did you leave,” I asked as I walked toward him. Strange how I felt a subtle, subconscious pull.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “I knew you would end up here.”
He walked up to me, putting only a few inches of space between us. His face was serious.
“Try to remember, Isabel,” he whispered heavily.
“Why don’t you just tell me,” I said back.
He shook his head. “Just try. You are a smart girl.”
“What if I don’t figure it out…ever?”
“You will, if you try.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Then I will be a broken hearted man and your life will go on as normal. You are a princess after all.” He gave a wry smile.
“Please?” I asked. I hated it when I knew I knew something but could not figure out what I knew. It was the most frustrating feeling.
He shook his head, no.
I was getting a little angry at him. Why didn’t he just tell me? What was the big deal?
He caught the change in my mood and softened. “Don’t do that,” he said lightly in French. He reached up to smooth the lines that had formed between my brows. They diminished instantly at his touch.
He looked me over before walking back over to the table and picking up the peach he had left there. He turned it around in his hands a few times before he lightly tossed it to me. I caught it. For some reason this sparked something in my brain. I didn’t think about it now though, I was fully focused on him.
“A little help,” he gave me a wink and smiled before he bowed deeply and walked away without another word.
I thought of calling him back, but something told me that even if I did he probably wouldn’t stop. So, I took myself and my peach into my room, and changed before George had any time to come and complain about my tardiness. I put on a simple ice blue number and put my hair up. I thought about the peach, and the starry-eyed boy, and remembering, and forgetting as I found my way to George. He was sitting outside Ambassador Jean-Pierre’s chambers, looking very well groomed, reading Gazzetta dello Sport. He nodded his approval when he looked up and saw me.
“I look okay?” I asked, but not really caring if I did or didn’t.
“Decent,” he said with a smile as he kissed me on the temple, “but it wouldn’t hurt if you put on a smile.”

I had another strange dream. Only this time, it was more of a memory than a dream. I was 10, and it was the day of my grandfather’s funeral. It was sunny that day. It was a small gathering, well, for a king. He had told us before that when he died he did not want many people there. He did not want all of Italy to remember him that way. It was, not surprisingly, a closed casket ceremony. The cyclamen garden where we had buried him had been in full bloom that summer. I remember sitting there, in the front row, with my father on my left and my mother on the left of him, and my Aunt Camille on my right. My father tried to be brave for me, for his family, but I saw though it, as did my mother. She was very good at seeing through things. I remember her rubbing his arm tenderly. As the ceremony went on, a need to get up and run away clawed more and more at me. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t need to be, because that wasn’t my grandfather in the casket. It was some other man’s dead body, another man with no relation to me. I felt like running and finding my real grandfather, who I knew was still alive somewhere, and telling him that there was a man in a casket that was pretending to be him. And so, that’s what I did. I got up, and ran. I ran to the woods. It was the closest thing, besides, around this time, most days, me and him would go for a walk through the woods. He should be in there somewhere.
I vaguely heard my father yelling for me to come back but I kept going. I didn’t want to stay there. I didn’t want to see sad and crying faces. I reached the woods, and kept going. But I slowed when I saw something move in trees. It was odd, that I slowed; I rarely slowed for anything when I had started running. A boy, small and unkempt, walked from behind the trunk of a large peach tree. He had soft brown curls, a cream and gold complexion. I was curious, I walked up to him. We stayed behind the trunk of the peach tree; it concealed us from the gazes of the people attending the funeral of a faker.
“Who are you?” I asked the boy in quick Italian.
He did not answer me. He stared at me, his face clouded with different expressions. I tried to decode them. I could see curiosity, understanding, wariness, tenderness, and even sympathy. There was too much comprehension in his expression for a boy so young.
He did something then that surprised me greatly. He reached up and touched the lines that had creased themselves into my forehead the last few days.
“You think a lot,” the boy said softly in French. I nodded in somewhat of an agreement. I stared at his eyes. I had never seen anything like them, they were multicolored, with blue and green and purple and silver and gold and other colors that didn’t quite have a name. I thought of asking him whether he was some kind of mutant.
“Are you hungry?” the boy said in French.
I nodded again.
I noticed that he had a peach from the tree beside us in his hand. He gave it to me.
I heard my father, among others, who were making their way over to the woods to find me. I did not want to be found.
“Do you want to go back?” The boy asked. From the look on his face I could tell that he did not want me to leave.
“No,” I said in French, shaking my head.
“Good,” he replied in Italian. He held out his hand to me, and I took it without hesitation. I was never opposed to strangers. Sometimes, they were my favorite people in the world. My hand fit his perfectly, as though were two consecutive pieces in a puzzle.
We started to walk deeper into the forest, not caring where we went. I just wanted to get away from the searching voices.
“What is your name?” I inquired the same information I had sought in my first question but now I realized the two had completely different meanings. Maybe he knew that too.
He looked at me with the sweetest, kindest of smiles. “I am Nova. Nova Ängel Noir.”

"That is all I could wish form a happy life with a beautiful wife," -'From' and '.'

"I caught up to George easily, and could here Nicholas and Benjamin trying to catch up from behind." -'hear'

"“Why did you leave,”" -'?'

Those were the only slip-ups I found, and they were minor.

All in all, I think this is a good chapter. It was a tad slow, but it had a lot of good detail in it.

One thing I think might would be good to do is maybe rate it E13+, just because there's some language and a small, fleeting, crude joke about George.

Keep up the good work!

Good evening m'dear. Nitpicks and such first:

“…she swung that sword around as skillfully as a great knight in battle. Damn near took my eye out mind you.” My uncle’s hearty chuckle and a retelling of the time when I first dueled him at swords cut through my foggy thought process.

If that sentence was a turkey, you would be overstuffing it.

“What do you mean handle her?” <- remove the quotation mark here A woman shouldn’t need to be handled.

Louis looked completely taken aback, Francis’ jaw had dropped to the ground, and my uncle had turned pink.

I don't think pink is really the right colour - it sounds as if he turned into a salmon. Also, it doesn't really do its job well, I'm not sure why he's pink, is he angry or embarrassed, or is he really just a salmon?

use " here instead ->‘I’m…managing,” I responded in short.

“What do you expect will happen…if we actually get married?” I asked, staring deliberately at Francis. “I mean, between us.”

I think this should be together in a paragraph, seeing as she's still speaking. If you do that, you don't really need the dialogue tag, although you can do whatever you please.

He considered it for a moment. “Well, I will hope that we could learn to be happy together. That is all I could wish form a happy life with a beautiful wife,” Francis said in a wise manner.

Something I'm beginning to notice is that you have tags on all of your dialogue. Here, for example, it's unnecessary. We know it's him speaking because of the bolded bit, so there's no need to say it. Sometimes it makes the dialogue better if you leave it without a "said" or an "asked".

He was the only one who had kept up with me the whole time, him being one of the best riders that I knew.

I don't like how this is phrased. I think you could easily take out the last bit (after the comma), seeing as it's what seems to be the problem. Of course, you know the whole "show, don't tell", which you do well in the beginning, but then you decide to both show AND tell. "He was the only one who was able to keep up with me the whole time" works fine. (Although I did make an adjustment.

“Mind slowing up there, Isabel?!”

Just... no. A lonesome question mark would have been fine.
ALSO:

“Mind slowing up there, Isabel?!” George said breathlessly as he and Benjamin approached. “That last run almost destroyed the prize winner,” he said while vulgarly gesturing to his crotch.

Do you see how you used two dialogue tags for this? Why? You certainly don't need it. You can make the action of gesturing to his crotch its own sentence.

“Gross,” I laughed, “but I doubt a two inch egg roll as a prize winner.”

Change the 'as' to 'is' and you're good to go.

I smirked,(period instead) “Yes, because that totally has relevance.”

I caught up to George easily, and could here Nicholas and Benjamin trying to catch up from behind.

Tsk. *hear

Thankfully, Midnight finally responded and slowed to a trot before stopping completely, exactly one meter from the edge of the lake.

Really, exactly? Did she pull out her tape measure? I'm guessing not, which makes this sound a little silly.

I sighed in relief and kissed the head of Midnight in thanks just as the rider responsible from for the whole catastrophe rode up toward us.

What was his name? She knew him….she knew she did.

You've changed point of views here, I believe, because it sure as hell makes no sense.

I wondered if I acted more like Anna or George if the starry eyed boy would have answered my question directly.

He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing against me I was reading this, and I got to the "me" and immediately spoke in an irish accent. You should probably change it to *my jaw line, before he sighed.

George looked overwhelmed with relief,(period instead)

I hesitated, not wanting to leave the starry-eyed boy.

You've said "starry eyed boy" many times, which I really don't have a problem with, but this is the first time you joined the words with a hyphen. Choose one or the other.

made my way up and into the Palace, looking down every hall I passed.

Unless the name of the palace is "Palace", don't capitalize it.

After a while(comma) I gave up and started to head to my apartments.

“Why did you leave,” I asked as I walked toward him.

Since she's asking a question, I would suggest using a question mark instead of a comma.

It was strange how I felt a subtle, subconscious pull.

“Why don’t you just tell me?” I said back.

This is merely a suggestion. See how it works fine without the dialogue tag?

I hated it when I knew I knew something but could not figure out what I knew.

Super awkward, reminds me of those confusing sentences that you have to try to solve. Like so: "I know that you know that I know that you know we're going to the party tonight." Super pointless and confusing, right?

“Don’t do that,” he said lightly in French.

I thought she didn't understand french. Earlier the boy had said something to her in french and she hadn't understood.

He reached up to smooth the lines that had formed between my brows. They diminished instantly at his touch.

I don't think she would have been able to see the lines disappear, seeing as they're on her face.

-
Something I noticed while reading is that you throw a lot of characters into your story very quickly. I don't catch all their names, I hardly know who half the people are. I realize that some of these characters aren't incredibly important, but you often throw in names of royalty like we're supposed to automatically know who they are. Sorry, I'm a bit tired at the moment, and it's taken me some time to review this, but I hope you understand what I meant.

The super long paragraph in which she describes her dream is, well, super long. I would suggest breaking it up.

I was curious, (replace the comma with the word "as")I walked up to him.

She thought of asking him whether he was some kind of mutant.

Again with the "she", change it to I.

“Do you want to go back?” the boy asked.

I inquired the same information I had sought in my first question but now I realized the two had completely different meanings.

Wordy and awkwardly written. It's as if you're trying to refresh our memories. There must be a purpose to the repeated question that you'd like us to understand, but you're forcing it. Don't force it, let us (us being the readers, of course) figure it out on our own.

I liked the dream scene, it was a bit mesmerizing.
Overall, it was a solid chapter. I feel like I enjoyed reading this more than I had in your previous chapters. I don't have anthing else to add, I believe I covered everything I wanted to point out. If there's something off that I wrote, I apologize, I'm exhausted. I do hope this helped a ton though! Good night (HAH, started this in the evening and finished it in the night, with a few break in between of course)