Kiranya Westermoore
The Queen married him. She married him, and then she invited my family for our rotation in the court. I stood up with a sigh, turning toward my father. He was sitting at the head of the table, as always, and lifted his eyebrows at me I as drew a breath to speak. “May I be excused?”
He frowned a moment, but inclined his head. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, pushing my chair in before quickly taking my leave.
Out in the hall I stopped, looking up and down the long, elaborately decorated space. It was vacant except for the two guards, one on either side of the door, who looked startled at my sudden appearance. Everyone else in our manor was in the dining hall for dinner. Everyone else had manners.
I hurried down the hall, hesitating as the old doorman, Pyrier, opened the heavy wooden door at the front of the house, stepping back to nod at me as he had nearly every time I walked through that door since I was born. I usually returned his smile. Today I didn’t. Instead I slipped outside and down the few steps, into the gravel pathway, and then sprinted across the grassy meadow that lay just to the left. The small stand of trees that separated the field from the stream was the only thing that could slow me.
Careful of the low branches and twigs that tried to tug my hair free of it the arrangement my attendants insisted on twisting it into, I made my way to my favorite tree and started climbing as I listened to the sound of the river nearby. The old oak with branches just high enough that none of my sisters could follow me, as if they would anyway, and just low enough that I could haul myself into the tree even while I was dressed in this stifling formal wear.
I climbed until finally reaching the highest branch that could easily support my weight, then, panting, settled into the worn nook, crossing my arms and glaring at a lichen that grew on the limb just beyond the line that marked the bark I wore down with my frequent visits.
“How could she?” I asked no one in particular, my thoughts swimming. I uncrossed my arms and clenched my fists, my anger growing as I regained some of my breath. “How could she marry that… that… Adlirian trash?”
I bit off my thoughts knowing that with the soldiers posted so close one might be near enough to hear me and I was speaking treason, which would bring me nose to nose with the new king very soon, if I wasn’t careful. I’ll have to meet him soon anyway, I thought bitterly. Father isn’t about to decline the invitation to the palace… I don’t think he actually has much choice in that matter, anyway. That’s the Queen’s… well, I suppose this… Adlirian’s decision now.
Our Queen was a noble woman. Strong and elegant, Queen Valira ruled the land, our land, my beloved Uthira, since before my father was born. She was a good ruler and an even better matriarch, commanding the respect and admiration of any who met her. But she wasn’t as good at commanding troops, it seemed, and when the Adlirians invaded it didn’t take long for them to overrun our country.
I looked up at the sky, at the cloud of smoke that rose every evening from the various fires of the Adlirian soldiers stationed an hour’s ride from our home. My jaw clenched. No good thing came out of Adlir. At least, if something good did come, I hadn’t seen it yet. The soldiers were nothing but trouble, harassing me and my older sisters any time we dared venture out of sight of the manor, stealing our chickens, scaring the sheep. The Adlirian Queen’s nephew certainly didn’t promise to be worth anything; especially not as he decided to play king in our country.
Teran Jaerbac
I sat with my arms crossed, one leg draped over my other knee, and exhaled slowly as I looked at my new bride. I wasn’t sure that my aunt knew what she’d gotten me into. I certainly didn’t know what she was getting me into, until I saw my soon-to-be wife walking down the aisle.
You should have paid more attention when they were going over the arrangements of your marriage. I kicked myself for the thousandth time for blindly following my aunt’s instructions of marrying this Uthirian Queen that was old enough to be my great grandmother. I remembered the conversation I had with my bride, shortly after the wedding. Her rather snide revelation of her age. Two years older than my great grandmother, actually.
She turned around slowly, with a great dignity that I was well aware I lacked as I sat draped across her large armchair like a dirty rag. “Are you going to speak, or do you plan on just sitting there all night?”
“I quite enjoy sitting the glow of Her Majesty’s presence.” I ducked my head in what I hope looked to be a respectful manner. Even if I didn’t like the old bag she was still my wife, and a queen.
“Oh shut up,” she snapped, narrowing her eyes at me.
I grinned a little, happy despite myself that she didn’t believe my statement sincere. At least she wasn’t an idiot. Intelligence was something I could respect; and if I could respect my wife, I could learn to live as her husband. “Yes, ma’am.”
She sighed. “You’re just a giddy little boy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I repeated. I hadn’t yet seen the coming of three decades. I was nowhere near old enough to be married to her, or to be declared a king. Yet here I was.
“Your Aunt made you seem… older… and more mature.”
It’s not like you had much of a choice in the matter. Marry me and keep your throne, or be exiled from your own country and still see an Adlirian on the throne. Besides, I’m not exactly thrilled about this arrangement, either. I never wanted to be any king; certainly not a king of Uthira. “It won’t be so bad,” she said. Bah, I just want to go home, where I don’t have to worry about sand in my food and poison in my wine. “She seems to have deceived us both, then.”
The Queen snorted. She moved toward her bed, pulling the covers further back, before turning back toward me. “You may go… if you wish.”
I stood and bowed low, hoping my face didn’t betray my relief. At least she isn’t expecting me to give her an heir. “Sleep well, My Queen.”
“You also,” she returned icily.
But, then, I guess you just married an heir, didn’t you? Very clever of my aunt, arranging such an agreement. Wishing my spiteful thoughts would stop, I turned and quickly excused myself from the room, hesitating out in the hallway. I had no idea which direction I should go, but I wasn’t about to ask.
“My King?” One of my attendants, a smirk in his voice, stepped forward.
“What?” I turned toward him, giving him a flat glare.
“Do you need assistance finding your rooms, My King?”
“Of course not,” I turned toward the left and started down the short corridor. I hesitated when I reached a door on the right, where I figured there should be a hallway. I glanced back at my attendants, all of which seemed highly amused. I set my jaw and took the hallway to my left. “I’m taking a walk first.”
Kiranya Westermoore
It was cold and damp as our servants loaded the chests into the carriage; so was my mood. I hadn’t said a word all morning—not as my twittering attendants dressed me and talked about how much fun I was about to have in the palace even though the king was there, not as I endured a long breakfast with my family, and not now, as I was watching the servants secure the last trunk in its place.
I crossed my arms as my older sisters, looking every bit as flouncy and idiotic as they were, pranced down the stairs and climbed into the carriage, assisted by the coachman Dravoel. They were delighted to be meeting the king, Adlirian or not. They had the good sense to realize that, being so much younger than the Queen, he’d need a new wife once Queen Valira passed away, whenever that may happen.
Probably soon. I wouldn’t put it past the Adlirians to be plotting her murder, even now. I sighed, shaking myself, and looked back at where one of my sisters was laughing particularly loudly. My three older sisters hadn’t stopped their nonsensical twittering about the king, and how handsome and well-mannered he was rumored to be, in the whole three days that passed since Father told us about the invitation. Each of them hoped to be his next bride. That was much obvious, even if none would actually admit to it.
“Perk up, Kira,” Father smiled down at me sadly, patting my back. “Why so glum?”
He knew. I looked back down at the carriage, where my third and final sister was disappearing from sight. Their giggling could still be heard, even from the twenty paces away where I stood. I looked back up at Father, rolling my eyes. “You have got to be kidding me.”
He offered a pitying smile, knowing I didn’t enjoy my sisters’ company; knowing that no matter what he told me, I wouldn’t like it any more. He’d tried lecturing me about why being a girl wasn’t such a bad thing, and why it was perfectly alright for them to enjoy the softer things of life. It never made carriage rides any less painful. “The trip isn’t that long. You’ll be able to get away from them soon enough.”
“Mm,” I sighed. Get away to what? Then I’ll be trapped in the Queen’s courts, which is always bad enough, what with all the Lords and Barons and their families around—not to mention having to meet that boorish king. There is no way to escape the politics and pleasantries, even if I’m not around my sisters.
“Oh, come now,” as if reading my thoughts my Father gave me a slight push toward the carriage, encouraging me to go by my own will. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad. You’ll be back to your pets and your friends in no time.”
“I wish it really were no time,” I muttered.
“I don’t like leaving the manor either,” Father commiserated. “But at least we’ll get to meet our new king. That’s something, right?”
No. It’s not something. At least, not anything that will make me want to go. Why can’t I just stay here and look after the servants and animals? “I don’t see why I have to go.”
“You’re a part of the family. It wouldn’t be right if you missed out on meeting the king,” He said pointedly. I knew what he meant was “If I have to meet him, so do you,” even though he was far too diplomatic and proper to say something like that.
“I know I’m not going to like him.”
Teran Jaerbac
I sat up in my chair, suddenly very alert as I looked at my wife. “You invited how many?”
“Relax,” she said coolly, completely undisturbed by my reaction. “I only invited twenty-five of my nobles.”
“And their families?”
“Of course.”
I threw myself back on the chair with a whimper, slouching further over the arm than I had before while in Uthira—so far that I found myself hanging upside-down, staring at the skirts and ankles of my wife. Groaning, I thought about all of the godforsaken banquets and dances and… socialization… that I would be forced to endure. “I don’t see why I have to be a part of any of this.”
“Because you’re the new king. Everyone wants to meet the man that will be leading their country. Besides, they need to swear their loyalty to you soon—they should have the opportunity to meet you first.” She moved a bit nearer to me. “Now sit up here.”
I grudgingly righted myself in the chair and looked up at the Queen petulantly, annoyed as I realized that my schedule offered absolutely no reprieve from the stiff-necked nobles and their damnable traditions. I sighed, wishing there were a way out of the meetings. “I know I’m not going to like any of them.”
Kiranya Westermoore
My Father didn’t know what he was talking about. The palace seemed like it took ages to get to. A lifetime, as I was sandwiched between my two oldest unmarried sisters. The three very oldest of my sisters were saved from this frustrating escapade, already having been married off and settled with some other lesser barons and lords. Even the knowledge that they would most likely have to take a turn in the courts did little to relieve my frustration, as my sisters continued talking about the king.
I wanted to rip my hair out. Wanted to bury my head under a mountain of pillows, and not come out until they promised to shut up. It seemed impossible to divert their attention from the king and the fashions of the court for more than a moment or two. I decided that if they were trying to drive me insane, they were very nearly succeeding.
My eyes locked on my Father’s as I met his gaze. He was sitting across the carriage from us, comfortably seated with Mother and her knitting. He smiled sympathetically and lifted a shoulder, his silent attempt to comfort me. Or maybe he was just gloating. It was always hard to tell with Father. He was the one person in my family who seemed to understand me; and at the same time was the one person who could tease me without saying a word.
“I want to hurt them,” I mouthed silently, flicking my eyes toward my sisters.
Father’s smiled broadened. Now he was gloating. I sighed and crossed my arms, slouching in my chair a little further to pout. Without looking up from her scarf, or catching any of the exchange I’d just had with my father, my mother scolded me. “Sit up straight, Kiranya. Slouching isn’t becoming.”
Who cares if it’s becoming or not? I’m the youngest daughter. You’ll not be able to marry me off to anyone important anyway. I made a face at her, which she also didn’t see, and pushed myself back up. “Yes, Mother.”
“Kiranya,” my oldest sister, Jaryln, smiled down at me. “Do you think we’ll dance any Adlirian songs at the Queen’s—er King’s— formals?”
“Maybe,” I answered flatly. Honestly, I hoped I wouldn’t get pulled into the dances at all. I figured I would. There was always a young son or nephew of a baron who didn’t know who he ought to be dancing with that chose me by mistake.
“Oh, I hope we do!”
I blinked hard, glaring at her out of the corner of my eye. “Mhm.”
The carriage jolted to a stop. Hopeful, I dove toward the window and peered out. Looming over us were the tall watchtowers with their ominous spires, the highest points of the castle. We were here at last. Infinitely grateful I sat back in my chair, smiling. My father chuckled softly, shaking his head at me, before his eyes flicked across all of his youngest daughters. “Look sharp.”
They instantly began straightening their dresses, and fluffing their hair, and fluffing each other’s hair, and fluffing my hair. Growling at them I twisted away, glaring, and daring them to touch me again. After a brief glance at me they quickly lost interest in my hair, and went back to themselves. I ran my own hand across the top of the elaborately curled and arranged style my attendants insisted on, smoothing down the stray hairs.
I pulled my dress straight as Dravoel opened the carriage door, and Father stepped down. He turned back to the carriage and offered Mother his hand, helping her to step down gracefully. Dravoel helped each of my sisters down the few steps that lead down from the carriage—first Jaryln, then Petria, then Tyraia, oldest to youngest, as was proper. I came last, the youngest daughter of Baron Westermoore.
I took Dravoel’s hand, returning his smile. “Thank you, Mr. Drav.”
“Anytime, dear,” he murmured, softly enough that no one but me could hear.
He stepped back, still holding my hand, giving me time to climb down. I jumped. His arm stiffened but held me, and when I glanced up at his face, he didn’t look very surprised. His face was back to its stonily impassive expression. Mother was horrified, and turned to chastise me—but was stopped as the palace doors opened and the queen slowly strode out in all her majesty.
I instantly stepped forward into line with my sisters and fell into a curtsy, as I knew was proper, looking down at the marble steps that lead up to the landing the queen stood on. I risked a look up as she addressed my father. “Baron Westermoore.” She looked at my mother. “Baroness.”
“Thank you for inviting us into your courts, my Queen,” my father answered humbly.
I cast an annoyed glance at him. He wasn’t usually so meek and diplomatic. He usually was a reasonable person who had a life other than politics—but anytime there was mention of a king or a queen, he instantly assumed his role as Baron and pretended to be as shallow as was expected. I missed whatever the queen said in response, glancing to my left as my brothers, who were permitted to ride their horses behind our carriage, joined me in the line. I realized my father was bowing again, and I dropped into a curtsy once more.
One of her attendants stepped forward and murmured that if we would please follow her, she would show us to our rooms. I took a deep breath, straightening my shoulders, and waited for my brothers to fall into their proper places in the line before I followed at the tail of the procession—trailed only by my own family’s attendants. I was puzzled, but happy, that there was no sight of the king, at least not yet.
Teran Jaerbac
I stalked on the wall that ran the edge of the castle roof. It was the highest point I found that would still allow me to pace. I’d slipped away from my attendants, not that hard of a job if you were careful, and came up here to clear my head.
I was entirely serious about not wanting to meet the barons, or their families. The rumors I heard said that no one had simply a neutral opinion of me, which was only to be expected, given the circumstances. I heard that the young, unmarried women were quite fond of me, no doubt hoping I would show favor to them once the current Queen died, while everyone else loathed me with a passion.
I sighed as the first glossy black carriage pulled into the court. The Baron Westermoore and his family, no doubt. My Queen, after enduring quite a number of my complaints, deigned to tell me that she invited them in such a manner that they would arrive one at a time—the Westermoores today for dinner, another Baron’s family would join the court tomorrow, another the day after, until finally all of the families would pile into our grand halls for a dance and a banquet.
I asked her how she decided who would arrive first: if she invited her favorite barons, or the barons she knew would be most likely to dump a vial of poison in my wine. After all, just killing me would eliminate their duty to swear loyalty to me, a mere Adlirian. I knew her barons disliked the thought of pledging their allegiance to me, no doubt because they were all close relatives of the gods—citizens of Uthira. You couldn’t get much closer to godliness than that, could you? I’d asked.
She threatened to throw an inkpot at my head, and soon afterward put me out of her chambers, claiming she wanted a nap, leaving me without an answer. I supposed I already knew which guess was correct. Besides, I reminded myself as I watched the Baron Westermoore step out of his carriage with as much dignity as he could muster. It’s not like it’s going to be difficult to tell if he wants to stick a knife in my back, once I actually meet them.
I watched as one by one the baron’s family evacuated the carriage—first his wife, then, presumably, his daughters. Maybe nieces of marriageable age, but most likely daughters. I sighed, counting the young girls, wondering just how many he brought with him. One…two… three… I hesitated as the fourth seemed to fall out of the carriage.
The coachman’s lack of reaction, paired with the way her mother whirled around on the poor girl, told me that she hadn’t tripped but leaped. I felt my mouth twitch into a smile. Any girl that was willing to jump out of a carriage, aware of the audience that was, or at least potentially could be, watching her, might actually make for an interesting conversation. Of course, that’s assuming she can actually have a reasonable conversation with me. I wonder whether she hopes to marry me, or see a dagger run through my heart?
I shook my head gently. I guess we’ll see at dinner.
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Great writing! I was really impressed with how smooth each sentence read. Your plot is very compelling and I'd love to read more. Keep it up!
Sorry I am so late to join the party! Some enterprising souls snatched my reviewing skills for a while and it took me a few days to regain them. Stupid goblins. I sent them back to Middle Earth, first class.

This was a very interesting story, seeming to bear your trademark somewhat. A girl who wants to go outside the box. The cookie-cutter version of girls. I whole-heartily agree with that, especially when one takes a look at her sisters. Wow. Not only are they silly, but their attitudes are soo... childish and empty. Frivolous. Like they have no cares in the world and all that matters are handsome kings.
Your main character(s) voices were very strong in this one, yet another trademark of yours. Thought, dialogue, scene. Very well played out. Your method of alternating point of view is very good, and transitions very smoothly.
And you have thought in your chapter! I love that. a lot of first person POV stories have no reflection, delving only into action and scene, totally skipping by the true power of first person. Knowing your character inside. That is what I love about first person. Combining thought with everything else, creating a truly amazing story.
A few nitpicks...
Sorry to start off on such a negative note, but this was my least favorite part of the entire chapter. Mostly because it didn't seem your style, and the idea was so scatterbrained, shooting off in different directions in the same paragraph. The two ideas in the same paragraph (queen marrying and her turning to her father) were mixed together so roughly that it threw me off for a minute.
Not 100% sure about this, but shouldn't there be a comma after "hall"? Also, you could switch the sentence about to say I stopped out in the hall instead.
Comma after "Instead"
Comma after "knowing" and I think another after "close"
I think the "it seemed" is unneeded because she either is good at commanding troops or she isn't. there is no in-between.
And I think you need a comma after "invaded"
"Was watching" could be "watched"
This paragraph is too... hairy? Each sentence has at least one mention of the word hair. Sometimes once. Sometimes three or more... At first it sounded repetitive, but then it turned redundant after a few times.
That part seemed a little out of place. It took me a few readings before I understood what its purpose was. Perhaps adding a few words to the beginning of the sentence? Like maybe, I would know or something?
Comma after "tripped"?
The gently seems a little out of place. I have heard, slowly, quickly and other ways to describe the shaking of the head, but gently seems like it would fit more of a hand gesture, rather than a head gesture.
There were a few more nitpicks than usual on this piece, but the reason for that is the length. This is about twice as long as the normal piece on YWS, which I found that I liked. After all, the normal length of chapters(in real books) are about this long, aren't they? Not four pages, but ten pages or so. I liked that.
In the end of the chapter, I found that I liked the king, hated the queen's snobbishness, and I am not sure about Kiranya. Not yet. She is kind of a mystery to me. Some things that she does and thinks I likes, but others just grate on me. Everything that her father does to make her cheer up is just replyed to with a Mhm. Like, I-don't-really-give-a-...-what-you-think kind of attitude... And I am wondering, is there going to be a character development throughout this? A character change? I hope so, cuz I am really enjoying this so far.
Keep me updated!
~Darth Timmyjake
I've edited this chapter.
Hey lovely! I shouldn't be reviewing this because of the ATROCITY YOU'VE DONE. Stealing my avi. PFFT. evil person.
I would like to see more, so lemme know when more comes into light!
but I promised, so...
I'll skip past the nitpicks, if there are any. I assume the other reviews pointed them out and I didn't see any, so that's that. Onto the plot.
I kinda don't like this Kiranya already? She seems very hateful. I suppose I can understand why she would hate the new king, since he's from some other country and this is fantasy, so we already know that countries are often at war or making alliances with each other, but her hatred for the Adlir people seems to run rather personal. You'd think she had a vendetta against them. What's so bad about them? Knowing so would make more sense.
Kira's loyalty to the Queen seems very strong for someone her age. I assume she's no younger than you are and that's awfully young to feel such protectiveness for an old woman you hardly have ever met. But I suppose it's because I've never been underneath a monarchy's rule and because subjects often adore their royals to the death.
As for the king, I like him already. He's come off great, with a funny personality and enough kindness to make me respect him. I do think you should highlight their marriage a bit. What does it mean for this land and for the Adlirians? Was it an arranged marriage to form an alliance? And how much importance does Teran's aunt have, if she can arrange a marriage between her nephew and the freaking Queen? Quite a lot, I assume.
I have a very strong feeling that you're going for a romance here, where Teran meets Kira and is captivated by her beauty. He tries to gain her friendship but she won't give it because, for some odd reason, she absolutely hates his guts. Not to mention that he's the king. I can already predict that the Queen will die, leaving Teran a widow and in need of a queen to rule the land and lo! he falls in love with Kira and she becomes queen.
Please tell me you spice this up. I despise stories I can predict straight away.
~Iggy
Hey Shady!
I wondered what this story could be about, and it seems like it has the potential to be interesting. I am going to be honest here, because in my opinion it wasn't as compelling as some of your other beginnings have been. I didn't feel much of a connection with Kiranya or Teran really, and I think that was one of the things that made it less interesting. I think your writing style is still up to its usual perfection and the narrative was pretty good. But there was something about this story that fell flat in comparison to your others? Firstly, maybe because I found it more upsetting that the only reason Kira didn't like the new King was because he was a certain race, and not really because of the age gap or anything. Also, it seems no one else has a problem with this, so what could really be so bad about them? I guess I would need to know an example or see something to understand it myself.

Here at last
As for Tiran, all we really get to see is him having a bit of conversations with Queen and not being too happy with his position. I liked how at one point Kiranya and him both ended their POV sections with the same decision that there would probably no one they actually like there. But Tiran's point of view didn't seem as strong as Kiranya's, probably because it was so short, and other than showing his sadness at being in this position I didn't get to see much else. One thing I am thinking of you trying is maybe cutting his point of view of this chapter and switching POV's every chapter instead of multiple times in one? This is just a suggestion though, and it's really up to you. What you think works best.
You repeat the word door here quite a bit. I think the first two are good to stay... So maybe you should make the third sentence something like 'Instead I slipped outside' or something like that.
The nearly to the river sounded a bit weird to me, even though I can't directly place my finger on it. Here's my suggestion: I made my way to my favourite tree and started climbing as I listened to the sound of the river nearby.
I know you shortly say mother afterwards, but in that paragraph you never tell us who the 'she' who says this is. Maybe mention it then and there.
I think this could use a little spicing up, but when it comes to an idea it sounds good to me
Deanie x
Thank you for the review, darling. <3 I experimented with a MC who is far less like me than Kyanna or any of my others are, and it seems I've left her wanting. I'll try to work on the connection for my second part. Thanks again. It helped a lot, as usual.
The long-suffering young girl cracks wry about her more feminine and worldly sisters, and my sympathies are supposed to be immediately engaged; who ever would harbour an ounce of goodwill towards those frivolous people interested in -- oh, how I'm expected to gag -- clothes, or worse, boys? I've grown tired of stories that portray tomboys, girls with masculine verve who have the impudence and chutzpah to buck society's expectations, as somehow more enlightened than their gentler counterparts. One of my problems with modern feminism is that it plays along with the broader narrative that masculine traits like assertiveness, the subjugation of "soft" emotions, a disdain for "useless" aesthetics, and a drive for direct power in relationships, are somehow more desirable, more respectable, than those traditionally associated with femininity -- gentleness, submissiveness (not the same as constant capitulation, mind you), and an appreciation of beauty. By extolling the girls that decide to adopt masculine-leaning personalities we necessarily imply that those who do not are somehow inadequate, or -- and this irritates me on some mysteriously deep level -- weak, as if strength, and the show of it, is a virtue in itself. I don't know if you watch Game of Thrones, or have read the books, but there's a character named Sansa who's the typical princess type, with a kind heart but delicate sensibilities, and she has a sister, Arya, who's the quintessential muckraking rogue. Can you guess who most watchers/readers root for? Why, Arya, of course, because she confronts every challenge head-on, usually physically, while Sansa often has her head in the dream-clouds and avoids, rather than courts, danger. Arya's considered the heroine because she challenges conventional norms about how a girl should behave, but somehow we've forgotten the value in girls acting like girls. There's room for, and beauty in, all types of personalities; we too often praise one type to the neglect of another.
Tangents aside -- the father in your story pricks me the wrong way. I feel his favouritism to his daughter is meant to make the reader like him for liking a character the reader is already assumed to like. Instead he comes off entirely too self-satisfied; the smug wafts from these two like a toxic cloud. The older sisters are having fun. Why must snark always wedge its way into good times?
As for technicalities, alternating points-of-view can be done well, but not when transitions are this rapid and abrupt. A viewpoint chapter must be at least a few thousand words if you want the reader to develop an emotional attachment to the character. Otherwise you give her whiplash and she never cares for anybody.
Your story has an emotional engine. A shame it's sputtering and tired. Your two main characters are both dissatisfied by their lives yet mostly without agency at this point. They're trapped by convention and duty, but that inciting incident, the moment that gives them vital choice, has yet to mosey along; there is no dramatic conflict in this scene that demands to be resolved: you've essentially presented a somewhat-pleasant set-up. This is necessary in any story, of course, but as a single coherent chapter it falls flat. I'm sure the plot develops, yet I don't think there's enough here, in this thread, for anyone to damn or praise.
May Jesus shine resplendent moonbeams upon your soul, and Buddha rub his ethereal belly to the thought of your well-being.
Thank you for the review. I'm not sure all of your judgement are entirely fair, as this *is* just the first installment of my story and there is much more character building in future portions-- nevertheless I appreciate you sharing your POV and taking the time to share it with me. So, thanks again!
~Shady
Hi, Shadow. This is pinkie here! I love to review you for this fine night(NOT! It is dark and scary! RUN!).

To start this review off, I love this story. It grabbed my attention as it gave me a ride of a lifetime. I enjoyed the characters's stories by the way. They are so interesting! Interesting indeed! Is it me or I love this story which it made me want to kiss you. Not really. I am just joking. Also, I don't know you very much. I just love this story. I want to read more from you, you shadow one. You can be my shadow prince for the night. Well, I meant you are a wonderful writer as I say. You just got yourself to a amusing reader. Also, great masterpiece by the way. Farewell, my wonderful writer
Awesome Job!
Cheers
Your reviewer, Pinkiegirl13
Pff, thanks for the review. I'm glad you liked it. Would you like your shadow prince to let to know when the second part of this story is posted? xD
Yes, my prince. I'd glad to.