Hey, everybody!!! Just so you know this is the very first draft, no one but myself has edited yet so it might not be very good. I'm still working out some chinks in in the prologue, so feel free to critique the bejeezus out of it! 
Note: the html stuff isn't really working for me 
, so sorry that all the italics aren't really italic. 
Prologue
Theresa Martin could see her daughter's future, and didn't like it one bit. She sat on her bunk in the servant's quarters, looking at her daughter, Vera. Vera was only six years old, and was playing quietly in the corner with a doll made of straw and cloth scraps.
Theresa rubbed her temples to try to get rid of the headache that always came with her Sights. Vera looked up at her and smiled angelically, cradling the doll carefully even as one of its button eyes fell off.
“Hi, Mommy,” Vera said.
“Hi, Vera,” Theresa replied tiredly. The remnants of her Sight were still imprinted in her mind, and she couldn't shake the picture of her daughter's hands, covered in blood. She traced the thin black X on her neck, marking her as a Seer. Just this once, she wanted to be wrong. She wanted more than anything to be wrong.
“Mommy, Lucy lost her eye!” Vera exclaimed, noticing the missing button.
“Do you have it? I can sew it back on if you want,” Theresa said.
Vera picked up the button and looked at it thoughtfully. “Nah, it's okay. It's different from the other dolls now. Like me.”
Tears started to fill Theresa's eyes at those words.
All Seers were unique, with their own set of abilities. Theresa could see the future on occasion. Vera's father had been able to read minds. Others still could change memories or sense emotions, among other things. But Vera was different.
When she was three years old she took control of a duke's mind and made him give her his own daughter's birthday present. On the day she turned five, Vera made a merchant think he was a jester so he would perform for her. Four months after that incident, her father had disappeared. Vera had then used her power to convince one of the castle guards that he was her father.
Theresa had always known her daughter was capable of horrors. She had just hoped Vera would know better.
“Vera, honey,” Theresa started.
“Yes, Mommy?” Vera asked, combing the doll's straw hair back.
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
Vera looked up, frowning. “Why are you sorry? I don't understand.”
Theresa rubbed her face. “I... I won't be responsible for you. I won't watch my own daughter commit these... evils.”
“What?” Vera's frown turned into a look of hurt. “You think I'm bad?”
Theresa had no answer for that. She could see her daughter, ten years from now, the same hazel eyes frowning.
The only difference was the man writhing in pain at her feet.
She couldn't bear it anymore. Her daughter was not a monster. Could not be. But the images were proof. Theresa reached underneath the bed and grabbed a small knife, then stood up. She stared hard at her baby, sitting so innocently in the corner. She raised the knife.
“Mommy?” Vera inquired, eyes wide with confusion.
Theresa couldn't do it. She couldn't kill her own child, even if it would save others. She let her arm swing to her side and started to cry.
“Mommy, are you okay?”
“No. No, I'm not. I'm going to step out for a minute. You be good.” Theresa replied.
“Okay,” Vera agreed, then turned back to her doll.
Theresa Martin stepped outside, the knife still in hand. She could not bring herself to fix the problem she had caused, but she swore to herself that she wouldn't live to see the consequences.
* * *
Vera waited patiently in the servant's quarters, trying to amuse herself with the doll. She didn't really like dolls, but her mother had enough on her hands without worrying about keeping Vera occupied.
Vera was scared for her mother. Theresa was suddenly acting very strange, and she had never picked up a knife in her life other than to cook. For a moment there, Vera had almost been afraid that her mother was going to stab her.
But of course she was being silly.
She set down the doll thoughtfully. What could she do to help her mother? Vera smiled. When she returned, Vera would put her mother to sleep and give her the best dream she had ever had.
Vera waited.
And waited.
She stood up and went to the door, peering outside for a glimpse of her mother. Theresa wasn't anywhere to be seen. Suddenly Vera understood what was happening.
Her mother wasn't coming back.
* * *
Vera sat crouched in the council room, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to block out the endless arguing of the tall, imposing men in front of her. Snatches of their shouted words reached her ears but she was trying her hardest not to listen. She had a headache, and just wanted her mother. All the men were speaking at the same time, holding several different conversations at once.
“There is no father, he disappeared years ago...”
“...suicide? Why would...”
“No, there are no other relatives, she's...”
“What if we sent her...”
“No, no, that wouldn't work, it would be much too...”
Vera buried her face in the one-eyed doll and covered her ears.
“Will everyone please just SHUT UP!” someone bellowed.
Vera looked up and the room went quiet. One of the Councilors was standing up, glaring angrily. “I have the solution,” he said. “The girl's mother was indebted to the king at the time she committed suicide, correct? Which means the only real connection the daughter has, is to the king.”
The buzz of conversation started up again, this time punctuated with outrage. Vera cradled her head in her hands again, rocking back and forth on her heels. Her headache was getting worse, and she thought it might explode if she had to listen to this any longer. No one was paying any attention to her, and she doubted they would listen if she told them to be quiet.
“... Julian would have a fit if...”
“No, he's right! The mother...”
“...even if it is the only legally valid option, King Julian would never...”
“...you crazy?”
Vera could not take another minute of this. Her mother had told her to be good, and she knew what that entailed, but she just couldn't listen to this anymore. She opened her eyes and looked up at the Council, looking into each of their eyes in turn.
She reached for their minds.
[i]Stop arguing. Just stop.[/i]
The noise died abruptly, and Vera let out a sigh of relief.[i] Pick the easiest option, immediately[/i]. She thought for a moment. [i]And quietly. Pick quietly.[/i]
The speaking resumed, much quieter and less heated. Less than a minute later the Scribe was writing up a big legal paper, which was passed across the council table to be signed by each Council member.
Vera didn't know what the decision was, and didn't care. She had collapsed in a tiny heap on the floor, curled around her doll. She was tired after working her mind so hard, and controlling eleven minds at once wasn't easy.
Even when the Councilors got up from the large stone table they sat at, and started to file out, Vera didn't get up.
Someone touched her arm and Vera opened her hazel eyes tiredly, turning to look. It was the Head Councilor, the signed scroll in one hand, and the other hand on her arm.
“We've come to a decision. Come with me, please,” he said quietly.
Vera stumbled to her feet and looked up at the Councilor with wide eyes. He was tall and thin, around thirty, and dressed in the traditional dark gray robes of the Council. He nodded and turned to leave, motioning for her to follow. Vera tucked her doll into the crook of one arm, then hurried to catch up with him, sliding her tiny hand into his large, black gloved one. The High Councilor looked down with surprise, but didn't try to shake her off.
Vera peered back up at him and smiled sleepily. He looked a little puzzled, but smiled back anyway.
The odd pair walked briskly through the halls, all the way to king's rooms. Vera vaguely wondered why they were there, but was too tired to ask. The Head Councilor pushed open the large, gold encrusted door and led Vera into the fanciest, plushiest room she'd ever seen in her life.
The floor was covered in a rich maroon carpet, and every wall was draped in red and gold silk. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, and a gold satin couch sat facing a roaring fireplace. In the very center of the huge room was the king's four-poster bed, big enough to hold ten people, with more gold and dark red hanging from the canopy above it.
King Julian was standing at the back of the room with a wine goblet in one ringed hand, looking out the large window at the sparkling blue sea. His eight year old son, Prince Lancer, was standing beside him, looking utterly bored and depressed.
The High Councilor cleared his throat. “Your Highness?”
King Julian turned around and walked slowly over to them, carefully avoiding stepping on his almost comically long robes. “Who's this?” he asked, gesturing to Vera.
“This, You Majesty, is Vera Martin. Theresa's orphan,” the Councilor replied, bowing his head.
“Ah, yes. What did you decide?” the king asked curiously, looking at me with fake sympathy.
The Councilor shifted uncomfortably. “Well, ah... well, we decided that.... What I'm trying to say is...”
“Well come on then! Out with it!” Julian ordered impatiently.
“Y-yes sir. We decided that you should have full responsibility of her,” the Councilor choked out.
The king's face first had a look of mild interest, then turned to surprise, then finally to anger. “You made me her guardian? ME?” his voice rose steadily until the last word was a shout.
“Well... well,” the Councilor bumbled, sweat breaking out on his brow. The king raised an eyebrow challengingly. “Well... yes.”
Julian raised a furious hand to hit the Councilor, but caught himself before he did it. The king slowly lowered his hand again and turned back to the window, breathing heavily.
“Your Highness? If you could... sign this,” The High Councilor said anxiously, unrolling the scroll.
The king turned to face him again, his hands safely clenched at his side. “If I don't sign it, does it change anything?”
“Not really. It just looks better for both of us if your signature is on it.”
“Very well,” the king said gruffly. He took the scroll and brought it over to a mahogany desk. He dipped a feather pen in dark purple ink, and signed his name in a flourish at the bottom.
“So where do you want her to stay?” the Councilor asked.
The king rolled the scroll back up and returned it to the Councilor. “I suppose she should get her own room. Leave her here, I'll have a servant find an empty bedroom near the servant's quarters.”
“Yes, King Julian.” The High Councilor bowed once more and scurried from the room, leaving Vera on her own.
The king and the little girl regarded each other awkwardly, not quite sure what to say. Then a third, high voice, piped up from across the room. “Is she my sister now?” Prince Lancer asked, walking over.
“No. No, she's not family,” the king replied immediately.
Vera frowned. “I'm not?”
“No,” Julian repeated firmly. He gave a brisk nod of reassurance, more to himself than the children, before stepping outside to grab a servant.
Lancer came closer to Vera curiously. “What's your name?” he asked.
“Vera Martin,” Vera replied. “You're Prince Lancer.”
He nodded. “I'm eight. How old are you?”
“Six.”
Suddenly he noticed the thin X on the underside of her arm. Lancer grabbed her wrist and twisted it so he could see better. “You're a Seer!” he exclaimed.
Vera jerked her arm away angrily. “Yeah, so?”
“Can you see the future?” he asked. His eyes widened as he considered different possibilities. “Are you reading my mind right now? Can you put thoughts in my head? Are you putting thoughts in my head?”
The reappearance of the king saved her from answering. A maidservant was following him; a woman Vera recognized from the rooms she lived in with her mother.
“Father, father, she's a Seer!” Lancer cried, tugging on the king's hand.
“Yes, I know. Her mother was as well. Most of the servants are,” Julian said dismissively, shaking his son off. “Vera, go with Maid Vanessa. She'll take you to your new room. Okay?”
Vera nodded and Vanessa took her hand, leading her to the door.
“Bye Vera!” Prince Lancer called, waving wildly.
Vera allowed herself to be led all the way to the other side of the castle to her new room, in the same hallway as the servant's rooms. The room was completely bare except a plain bed in the corner, a wood dresser, and tan carpeting. The windows faced away from sea, looking instead over the courtyards bustling with people.
Maid Vanessa turned and left without another word. Vera sat down on her new bed, the springs groaning in protest beneath her slight weight.
The awful truth, that she was stuck with Julian and it was all her fault, was starting to sink in. Why couldn't she have just waited for the Council to find her a nice little home with good parents?
Vera lay down and curled into a ball. She wanted to cry, but for some reason the tears wouldn't come no matter how hard she squeezed her eyes shut.
Vera's eyes flicked open and she looked around the room, frowning.
That's when she realized she had left her straw doll in the king's rooms.
Chapter One
I hacked at the weeds angrily, wincing with pain as one of the blisters on my hands burst open again, oozing clear fluid onto my fingers.
“Stupid Julian,” I growled, shaking my raw hand furiously.
“Hush!” Carly hissed, hitting me with her rake. “Do you want King Julian to hear?”
I glared at her. “Why do you care? You're safe. I'm the one that he practically owns.”
“Vera, shhhhhh!”
I rolled her eyes and went back to raking up the weeds. Sweat rolled down my forehead to the tip of my nose, but I didn't dare wipe it off and risk getting the salt in my blister.
I continued to mutter angrily, just at a much lower volume. “I can't believe it. If Julian didn't have custody of me, I would... I would...” I snarled and bent down to rip a particularly stubborn weed up. “Working me like a stupid dog. Ha! I'm better than this. I'm better than Julian himself!”
“Then why don't you do something about it?” Carly put in, rolling her eyes at me.
“Shut up! You don't know anything!” I shouted.
Carly stabbed her rake into the ground and looked at me in disbelief. “Well why don't you make me!” she snapped.
That's it. “Fine,” I said agreeably.
I met Carly's eyes, hazel to blue, then reached for her mind.
[i]Don't say another word. You can't speak. You went mute, and now you can't speak.[/i]
Carly's eyes went dull for a moment. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her eyes went wide with fear and I could tell she was screaming, but not a sound escaped her lips. Carly stepped forward and grabbed onto the front of my shirt, shaking me and mouthing 'what did you do to me?'.
[i]You want to let go of my shirt. You want to stop shaking me and let go of my shirt. You need to keep working and weeding the king's garden.[/i]
Carly stopped and released her grasp on my shirt, and I stumbled free. She slowly turned and pulled her rake from the ground, then continued with her work as if nothing had happened.
I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding and straightened my shirt.
[i]You're not mute. You can talk. You were never mute, and I never did anything to you.[/i]
I released Carly's mind and leaned on my rake. “Let's see King Julian do that,” I spat.
Carly looked up. “Do what?”
* * *
I stepped into the dining hall, carrying a golden tray. The smooth mahogany table was completely covered in similar golden plates and platters, filled with an assortment of exotic foods. The walls and floor were made completely of marble, with several large windows lined with gold letting in rays of light. The ceiling was ridiculously high, with swooping rafters artfully carved in graceful arches. A single large chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, dripping with diamonds and glowing brightly.
My heels clicked on the swirled marble floor as I carried the tray to the very head of the table, where a large golden chair, padded richly with red velvet, sat lording over the guests. Standing in front of the chair, was King Julian himself. His face was set in a sickly sweet smile, obviously something he practiced in one of the gold rimmed hand mirrors he kept in the folds of his robes. Julian was draped in a deep plum colored cloth, hardly visible among the many jewels and shimmering fabrics cascading down his tall figure.
His head was completely bald, with a brown, rectangular goatee being the only hair on his head. The heavy gold crown sat on his shaven head like a shiny fat toad sitting somewhere it knows it shouldn't be. Two large rubies on the front looked just like a pair of eyes, regarding the full table somewhat disdainfully.
I reached the head of the table and placed the tray down before the king, removing the cover to reveal a some kind of small, golden roasted bird. The king was always last to receive his meal, but always had to be first to take a bite. Everyone else was waiting hungrily with their own plates, staring at the king as if watching him could make him move a little faster.
Julian sat down slowly and painstakingly tucked a satin napkin into the front of his shirt. He looked up at me and nodded, dismissing me. I bowed and stationed myself behind his throne.
This was all the special treatment I got. Julian had custody of me, yet all the extra privilege I received was to serve him at dinner.
The feast began, and I went to get another bottle of the king's favorite red wine. By the time I returned from kitchen, Julian was just putting down his empty glass. I refilled his glass and stepped behind him again, still holding the bottle. As soon as his glass emptied for the second time, I could sense that he wanted more and I stepped up to fill his third glass. I set the bottle down and traversed back to the kitchen to get a gold jug of water. His glass was once again empty when I made it back, and this time I poured crystal clear water into it.
King Julian laughed as he lifted his water to his lips. “Putting your powers to good use, eh? I've never had such a good dinner server! You know what I want, before I do!”
I forced myself to laugh as I set the jug back down.
“Hey Vera!” Prince Lancer said from the seat to the right of the king. “Why don't you pour me some of that wine, huh?”
I looked to the king, who was setting down his goblet. “Ah, go ahead. Just make it half water.”
Lancer rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on father, it's my birthday!” he protested.
I tipped some wine into his goblet, grinning.
“What are you laughing at?” Lancer said nudging Me good naturedly.
“You. Big bad prince boy getting watered down wine,” I teased. I obediently poured water into his cup.
“Hey, at least I'm older than you,” he shot back.
I laughed and stationed myself behind the king again for the rest of the feast.
Finally, when he had finished eating, King Julian stood up to dismiss the guests. “Today, as you all know, is my son,
Prince Lancer's, eighteenth birthday. I hope you will all be able to join us for the ball in exactly one hour's time.
Have a splendid night, and don't forget to wish my son a happy birthday!”
The guests applauded politely and began to file out, those who couldn't attend the ball stopping by Lancer's chair to wish him well.
Finally the last of the stragglers trickled out. Lancer and the king stood up and I stepped forward for any last minute instructions.
Julian turned to me, and I bowed respectfully. “Vera, you are dismissed to your rooms. Get ready for the ball, I want you there at least ten minutes early to help greet guests. Do you understand?”
“Yes, You Majesty. I'll be there,” I replied. I turned to leave, and as I was stepping out, Lancer called after me.
“Oh, and Vera? Wear something nice this time, not that drab old gray thing you wore to the last party.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. I rather liked my gray dress.
I left the hall and made my way back to my room, slipping through passages behind tapestries whenever I could. My room was at the very farthest part of the castle, and I didn't have time to walk all the way back to it without taking shortcuts.
I pushed open the door, peeling white paint coming off on my hands, and stepped inside. I threw open the doors of my closet and looked at my clothes in distaste. I pulled my gray dress out, and set it aside regretfully.
I pulled out a pale, butter yellow dress, wrinkled my nose, then hung it back up behind the others. After staring hopelessly at the dresses for a while, I decided to just grab one and wear it no matter how much I hated it.
I pulled on all the under layers and extra skirts, then pulled on the gown and stepped in front of a full body mirror to inspect myself. The dress was made of a heavy, silky, black material that draped elegantly over the large skirts of the gown. The front of it went straight across, from one arm to the other, leaving my shoulders bare. It had loose sleeves, barely attached to the rest of the dress, that reached just past my elbows. A band of the palest green color went around the top of the dress and several layers of the skirts were the same color.
I frowned at my reflection. The skirts looked like a huge, upturned bowl. Shrugging, I grabbed some pins and started trying to knot my hair into a reasonable bun. I slipped on some heels and hurried back into the hall, rushing to get to the ballroom before the party started. I reached the huge double doors leading into the ballroom and pushed past a few guests to get inside. King Julian was standing at the head of the room beside Lancer. Julian was wearing voluptuous red robes and a velvet cloak edged with soft, golden fur. Lancer had on a fancy suit with black boots etched with gold vines. He also wore a cloak, but his was made of light, gold material clasped with a silver chain.
“Vera?” Lancer said, noticing me for the first time. He had a look of disbelief on his face and I tried to duck behind my hand. I put on a fake smile, then turned and walked to the king.
“King Julian, I'll begin greeting the guests now, if you wish,” I said.
“Ah, Vera! You look splendid, I'm glad you finally put on one of the dresses I picked out.” Julian said merrily.
“Continue. Oh! Make sure you give an extra warm greeting to the Duchess of Rainchester, will you? I've been trying to get her to sign a little agreement for quite some time now, and I'm thinking tonight is a good time to butter her up a bit. And when you're done, you can help serve those little snack things. Go on!”
I bowed and ran back to the entrance of the hall, greeting people as I went. My heels clicked annoyingly on the marble floor, and the noise echoed in the high, swooping ceiling. The whole room was decorated in honor of Lancer. A huge portrait of him had been hung on back wall where everyone could see it, and black and gold flowers had been spread throughout the room in celebration. Servants wandered around with silver platters of food, offering it to guests they passed. An orchestra played gentle music in the background, saving their best pieces for when the guests started dancing.
I shook hands with a Lord of some-place-or-other, smiling pleasantly. I didn't really keep track of who all these people were, but acted as if I knew every one of them.
“Welcome, madame! Prince Lancer and King Julian are extremely pleased you could make it tonight,” I gushed, taking travel cloaks from some fancy dressed woman and her entourage.
The crowd slowly grew until the room was filled with people, and the orchestra had started the dance tunes. I could see Prince Lancer dancing with a pink garbed lady, and King Julian speaking with a woman I guessed was the Duchess of Rainchester.
When I finished greeting people, I went to the kitchens and took up a tray of tart pastries, then headed back to the party. I offered the food to a man in a fur lined suit, who declined with an upstart jerk of his chin. I rolled my eyes as I continued into the ballroom.
I made my rounds once, twice, three times. Only a few pastries disappeared.
“Pastry, madame?” I asked tiredly to a woman that looked like she was drowning in her humongous ocean blue dress.
“Haven't you already asked me? I don't eat sugary foods such as this. I have much higher refined tastes. These are probably brimming with unhealthy ingredients. You would do well to remember that. Next time you should serve something more healthful!” she scolded, flinging her scarf around her neck.
I sighed.
“I think they're rather good,” a familiar voice stated behind me, amused.
The woman gave a start and her eyes went wide. “I-I did not-I did not mean to insult-”
Lancer laughed and put a hand on my shoulder. “Don't worry about it. Just don't blame my servants for the food I chose.”
“No, there's absolutely nothing wrong with your food! It's delightful!” the woman protested frantically.
“Well in that case, you can have these while we dance,” Lancer said, taking my tray and pushing it into the woman's hands.
“What? Dance?” I frowned.
Prince Lancer laughed again and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the center of the crowd.
“No, I need to serve the pastries! You're father will kill me!” I cried, trying to break out of his grip.
“You won't get in trouble, I promise,” Lancer said, placing one of my hands on his shoulder, and taking the other one in his hand.
I snorted. “You might not get in trouble, but that doesn't mean I'm safe.”
“Yes it does,” he replied, putting his remaining hand on my waist and pulling me into a dance.
I shook my head and let myself be spun around. “You know, you never told me what you wanted for your birthday.”
Lancer nodded. “Indeed I did not.”
“So? What do you want? Although it'll be hard to top that pendant you gave me for my last birthday.”
The prince thought for a while, dancing as he contemplated. “Hm.” He said finally. “I suppose what I want most is to go to the beach.”
“Um, I was thinking more along the lines of a book or a new quiver,” I said.
Lancer grinned. “Anyone could get me one of those. But you're the only one except my father who can get me to the beach. And we both know my father would just laugh if I brought it up to him.”
I sighed. “Alright, fine. I'll take you to the beach. But it's so not fair; you know I can't say no to that face.”
“Tonight.”
“What?”
“You're taking me tonight.”
I let out an exasperated growl. “Tonight,” I agreed grudgingly.
Lancer smiled and lifted me up, spinning in a circle. “You're the best.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I know. But sometimes I wonder if being the best is really worth it.”
* * *
I only had time to pull off my heels and tear down my pinned hair after the party before sneaking out. I crept along the dimly lit hallway, alert for any footsteps or voices. The torches flickered in their holders, casting wild shadows across the walls.
I reached the end of the hallway and slipped behind a tapestry, into a secret passageway. All the servants knew about the secrets of the castle that even the king himself didn't know. I pushed passed a second tapestry concealing the exit and stepped into another hallway. I went down the corridor, took two right turns, and pushed in a painting that served as a door to another passage. I stepped out from behind an identical painting and was about to go to Lancer's door at the end of the hall, when I heard voices approaching. I leaped back behind the painting, and pulled it shut.
The voices grew louder as they approached, and to my relief, began to dim again as they continued away.
I stepped out more cautiously this time, my bare feet silent on the cold flagstones. I hitched up my dress so that the fabric wouldn't brush against the floor, and make noise. I ran down Lancer's door and let my dress down. I knocked twice, paused, knocked twice again, paused, then knocked five times more in a specific pattern.
The door opened and out came Lancer, who obviously hadn't had time to change either. He was still wearing his suit except for the jacket, and also had bare feet.
“Brought back the old coded knock, eh?” he whispered.
I didn't answer, but motioned for him to follow me.
Lancer followed me through a network of hallways and secret passages. I finally made it to the last secret corridor and I led my friend up a flight of stairs to a trap door. I pushed it open and rays of moonlight touched my face. I waved him up through the doors and he stepped out into the night.
The prince laughed incredulously. “I never knew about any of this!” he said quietly.
“I know. It's a secret. That's the point,” I whispered back. “Come on, we're not there yet.”
I crept out from the shelter of the the trees around the trap door and ran in the direction of the ocean with Lancer close behind.
I ran over one hill, then up the side of the next before stopping and squatting near the top of the hill. Lancer crouched beside me, panting. “What is it?” he asked.
“Happy Birthday,” I said, then stood up and stepped over the crest of the hill.
Lancer followed, and both were immediately hit by a wall of ocean air. The smell of salt burned my throat, and the cool wind lifted my long hair, raising goosebumps on my arms. The other side of the hill was a sand dune, and down at the bottom of the steep dune was the beach.
Lancer looked at me excitedly, his face practically glowing. “Race you to the bottom!” he yelled, then started sprinting down the dune.
I ran too, my feet kicking up the light sand behind me in an arc. One foot sank too far into the sand and I pitched forward onto the ground. I let herself roll the rest of the way to the bottom, getting tangled in the heavy skirts of my dress and laughing like a maniac. Lancer slipped and fell onto his bottom just ahead of me, and I crashed into him. Both of us tumbled in a heap across the sand, laughing.
I finally caught my breath and sat up, wiping tears from my eyes.
Lancer propped himself up beside me, and I almost laughed again just from seeing his fancy suit coated in sand.
“This is definitely the best birthday present ever,” he said seriously.
I laughed and brushed some sand out of his hair. He grinned and clambered to his feet, then helped me up.
“Come on, I want to stand in the water,” I said, skipping over to the sea. I hiked up my dress and stepped into the water, letting it lick over my bare feet.
Lancer stood beside me, watching the water slide across the sand with fascination.
I laughed. “What, never seen water before?” I teased.
He rolled his eyes and stepped into the surf, slogging carefully over to put his arm around my shoulders. I looked up at him out of the corner of my eye, to see a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “What?”
Suddenly I was surrounded by icy sea water, choking as the briny fluid rushed into my open mouth. I sat up, water cascading off me. “You little brat!” I yelled, spitting out water and staggering to my feet, weighed down by my saturated skirts.
Lancer laughed, skipping away from me. “I'm just having a bit of fun!” he said defensively.
I splashed through the water toward him and he started to back away. Lancer stepped in a mud hole, looking down for a split second. I launched myself forward, tackling him and sending us both sprawling into the water. I cackled maniacally and watched him emerge slowly from the water, his speckled blond hair plastered against his head, so long that it covered his his eyes.
“I'm just having a bit of fun,” I quoted him sweetly.
He pulled his bangs away from his face, grinning. “Come on, this water's freezing,” he said, standing up with a rush of water.
I got to my feet and sloshed my way to the sand, shivering. Getting in the water had been a bad idea. I stripped off the top two layers of my skirts and spread them out on the sand to dry. At least I didn't look quite so poofy now. Lancer had peeled off his sopping dress shirt and was attempting to wring it out.
I shivered and sat down against a rock that was still warm from a sun that had disappeared hours ago. I watched the waves beat against the beach relentlessly. The last time I was at the beach, my mother was still alive.
That was ten years ago.
Lancer gave up on his shirt, throwing it to the ground in disgust and trudging over to me. He dropped down beside me, leaning back against the rock with a sigh.
I closed my eyes, listening to the ocean and the quiet breathing of my best friend. I entered his mind, relaxed and unguarded.
[i]So is it as good as you imagined? The beach? [/i]I asked inside his head.
[i]Yes. Better.[/i] He thought back to me.
Suddenly I heard him stir beside me and sit up. I opened my eyes, blinking at him in the silver moonlight.
“Once I asked you what your powers were as a Seer,” Lancer started.
“Yes,” I confirmed uneasily. I didn't like talking about my abilities.
The prince considered me for a moment. “And you told me that you didn't know exactly what they were.”
That had only been a part lie. I vaguely knew what sort of powers they were, but I hadn't ever gotten the chance to explore them. “Yes,” I repeated.
“Why don't we find out?” he said.
I blinked. “What? Like, test them?” I asked.
“Yeah! Figure out how strong you are. What you can do. You could test them on me!” he said excitedly.
I started to say no, but when I opened my mouth, I found that the word I spoke was, “Okay.”
Lancer clapped his hands together, grinning. “Great! Come on then!” he popped to his feet and pulled me up beside him. “Just tell me what to do,” he said.
“Okay. You stand over there, and then just... stand there, I guess.” I said.
He obediently went where I had pointed, several feet away. “Whenever you're ready,” he prompted.
I nodded and grasped his mind. “Do you feel any different?” I asked.
“Nope,” he replied.
[i]Alright.[/i] I thought to him.[i] I'm going to try to make you do something. Try to resist me.[/i] I ordered.
I felt his mind harden a little like he was trying to push me out. I gently planted a thought into his mind, convincing Lancer that the thought was his own.
[i]You want to raise your arms over your head[/i].
He lifted his arms into the air and I laughed. [i]You just lost[/i]. I thought to him, still giggling.
“What?” he said confusedly. “You didn't even do anything yet.”
That sent me into another spasm of laughter and I leaned against the rock to stay up.
He seemed to notice his arms raised above his head and frowned. “Wait. Was that you?” he inquired, lowering them to his sides.
“Yes! Why else would you do that?” I said.
Lancer shrugged. “I don't know, it just seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Okay, okay. Let's try again. Only this time try harder to keep me out.” I instructed.
I reached for his mind again, with only the slightest resistance. [i]You want to hop around on one leg. Juggling rocks[/i].
I watched in fascination as the prince bent down, picked up a handful of rocks, and started bouncing around trying to juggle.
[i]Now you want to stop.[/i]
He froze and the rocks fell to the sand.
His blue eyes seemed to focus again, and he looked up at me. “Oh, very funny, Vera,” he said sarcastically. “I don't even know how to juggle.”
I smiled. “This was your idea, remember?” I reminded him. “Now I want to try something else. I've only done this once before, and I think it was a fluke. Don't try to resist me this time.”
Lancer readied himself, watching me.
I stepped into his head again, but this time I did something different. I trapped his mind, pushing it into the farthest corner of his brain. Apparently he could feel this.
[i]Hey! [/i]He protested in his mind. [i]What are you doing?[/i]
I ignored him. [i]Move your arm[/i]. I commanded.
[i]What? Why?[/i] He thought to me. His arm moved exactly as I had wanted it to, and somehow I knew that he hadn't moved it.
[i]Whoa. What are you doing?[/i] He repeated.
I didn't reply, but ordered him to walk toward me. He did.
[i]Are you... controlling my body?[/i] Lancer asked.
I ordered him to walk into the ocean. He did. I ordered him to dunk his head underwater.
He did.
I felt a shiver slide down my spine.
[i]Vera! Stop! I can't breathe![/i]
I immediately let him up and shrank out of his mind, back into my own. I sank down to my knees, staring unseeingly at him. [i]I could have made him drown.[/i]
Lancer plopped down beside me with a sloshing sound. His pants were soaking again, and water dripped from his hair down his face and bare back.
“Wow,” he stated calmly. Then he looked and me and started laughing.
I was surprised into a smile, then an all out laugh as well, until we were both on our backs in hysterics.
Once we had managed to calm down a little, I sat up again, wiping tears from my streaming eyes.
“W... weren't you even scared?” I asked finally, swallowing my grin.
Lancer looked up at me from his sprawled position on the ground. “No. You'd never hurt me in a million years,” he smirked, reaching up to muss up my hair.
I jerked my head away, patting down my mane of salt crusted, brown fuzz.
“Oh, like it looks better now,” he said sarcastically, grinning again.
I pretended to primp, spinning a glob of tangles around my finger flirtatiously.
He laughed, then dumped a handful of sand on my head.
I shrieked, shaking the stuff off. I ran to the water and dug my hand into the thick mud at the edge, coming away with a fistful of the stuff.
“Oh, no, you'd better not,” he warned.
I threw, and the heavy mud splattered across his bare chest , dripping down onto his expensive pants.
“Oh, now look what you've done!” he exclaimed, wiping the stuff off him. He peeked up at me, then bolted to the water's edge to grab his own mud. I laughed as the brown goo exploded across my side.
Maybe if I was lucky, my dress would be ruined.
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,861 Reviews
Hey Miniauthor,
I really want to review this story as I am convinced that you have the capabilities required to become an awesome writer. Still, as per usual, I've got a lot to say.
I loved where you were going in the Prologue. I found where you were going in the first chapter to be weak. Let's start with the mode of narration. Your third person narration was something which I could relate to somewhat in terms of the story build up. It felt wholly unpretentious, brisk in pace and effective in building suspense. In short, it felt like it was telling a story that might actually go somewhere. When you switched to the third person narration in the main of the story, I was severely disappointed. You suddenly lost all suspense and tension. This wasn't solely due to the change to first person, as we'll discuss later. But the loss that the change in narration caused was nevertheless large.
I found myself viewing the first person narration as a diary. The diary that records day to day activity is filled with a selection of data that may or may not go anywhere. I'm not precisely sure how fast your plot has advanced, but when reading it is tedious to read a diary as much information is irrelevant to the actual place that you want to reach. We read your piece to hear a story. To write a successful story from the first person, you need to have selected only the most pivotal pieces in the story to tell your reader.
This comes as a result of the fact that if you want to write about yourself and not look like an arrogant jerk, you need to actually be telling a story and not waffling about your day to day life. While from a third person perspective your detailing of event managed to feel like it was a gradual progression toward something bigger, your first person narration failed to do that. It felt way too much like a rambling diary.
That's as far as the narration goes. More important though was the story itself. You had an epic. You reduced it to a conventional romance without any great appeal. Imagine. You tell us in the prologue about several episodes in which Vera uses her powers in an inappropriate fashion. A series of events enough to cause her mother to commit suicide. Imagine how epic it would be to show us that emotional breakdown as a story. You then place her alone after her mother's death. She is bullied by a king who doesn't really care for her. Surely this has had some interesting stories. How does she become who she is? Once again you skip over potentially brilliant plot. You finally come to her as a teenager, and she doesn't seem to have any worries whatsoever. Where did all the tension go? What are we now watching? Some love story between a prince and a servant girl that has been done a million times before. Without any original tension too.
You have a story that might be viewed as a ball of thread that you need to unravel at the right pace, and expose the right pieces at the right time to form the perfect tapestry. The more you set up against your protagonist, the more rewarding her victory will be.
The dialogue tags are aggravating too. Get rid of anything complicated and force the reader to focus only on the conversation rather than on the prose.
Lastly, the famous cliche, show, don't tell. No, its not your minimalist description that I'm picking on. I actually rather like that. It's the fact that you tell us about events and that they happened. Take us into the events. Paint their pictures and show them while they're happening rather than just letting us know they happened. This brings the reader into the story. You need to do that.
You have such great potential, and I'd love to see you pull this story off. While I didn't like the piece that much, I did like what it suggests. Good luck!
Have a great one.
Hey Mini, Stella here! This is pretty long, but I'll try and get through it. Maybe next time post a little less?
I. NITPICKS
But... like... isn't he the king?
Healthy?
Alright.
II. OVERALL
I like this. I really do. But I have a few issues. Firstly: it's very long but for all the length, very little happens. Honestly, I'm not a fan of prologues, you could basically cut this out and the story wouldn't suffer- you can always go and fill in the background later. Secondly: even without the prologue there's a lot of things that seem unnecessary, for all the length, very little seems to happen. Thirdly: I want to see you iron out the dynamic between her, the king, and the prince. She's a maid, yet she goes to the ball? It doesn't make a whole bunch of sense, and I want so see it more clearly because right now it's leaving me confused- I'd also like to see what direction her relationship with Lancer has taken over the years, because we just get this scene out of nowhere. But overall, nicely done!
Hope I helped, drop me a note if you need anything!
-Stella x
Hey there, Miniauthor. Firefly here for a review!
First, let me start by saying that I'm not very big on posting more than one chapter (or, in your case, a prologue plus a chapter) at a time. It gives the post a cluttered feel to it and makes for a very, very long read. Maybe I'm the only one who thinks this way, but I would recommend splitting up your prologue and chapter into two separate topics. It makes things a little easier on the eyes.
This was strictly a matter of opinion, though--I know there are plenty of people on here who do the same with their chapter posts.
Well, that's enough nitpicking for this post! On to the review!
#000080 ">(Blue words) represent my personal comments
#008000 ">Green words are corrections to spelling/punctuation
#800000 ">
Red wordsthat are struck out should be removed entirelySpoiler
Well, I must admit that the dialogue in chapter one was much better than in the prologue. The characters feel more real, more believable. But you could always explore them a bit more, give them more depth as people instead of just names on a computer screen.
All in all, I like the idea you've created here. Just focus more on developing your characters. They're more than names on a computer screen--they're people. Make me love them (or hate them, depending on their personalities)!
I'll be keeping an eye on this. Keep writing!
~#FF8000 ">Firefly