Chapter One
The red carpet was soft beneath her bare feet as Adelaide traversed the hall. Although she had trekked down this corridor thousands of times in her life, this time was different. Something was alive inside her. Her heartbeat resounded in her ears. Anxiety, an emotion quite uncommon for her, raced through her veins.
“Adelaide, you’ve got five minutes. We can only hold the offense for so long,” a harsh male voice echoed inside her head. Move the descriptor to the start of th dialog.
Adelaide nodded, breaking the connection. She was about to turn the corner when a tremor ran through her leg. It took her a moment to realize that the floor was shaking. Adrenaline surged through her blood, and she moved her legs to run when the ground gave out beneath her. Adelaide grasped at air as she plummeted down into darkness. Pain vibrated through her legs as she smashed into the hard ground.
A voice spoke through the darkness, “Hello, princess.”
“Who are you?” Adelaide asked, her voice saturated with fear. Saturated is a bad word choice to use with dialog and obviously she's asking a question as there is a question mark. Give your readers a little credit.
“You’ll never know,” it replied. A hand struck her across her face before she could respond. Shocked, Adelaide collapsed to the floor, the taste of blood filling her mouth. She touched her cheek with shaky hands, feeling the five long cuts that now bled onto her pale skin. Her heart pounded harder in her mind, like the heart of a hummingbird, buzzing, refusing to still.
“Your powers are mine,” the voice said, and a splitting pain erupted in Adelaide’s mind. Fire settled into every crevice of her being, consuming her soul and her body from the inside out.
Adelaide screamed in agony, twisting away from the voice. She pushed against the wall, looking for an escape, but there was none. The pressure became unbearable and she continued to cry out for help. Her voice rebounded back to her, a pitiful plea for life, for mercy. The fire became more intense, her eyes no longer able to focus. Just as the pain was hitting a crescendo For some reason, I don't like the combination of "hitting" and crescendo, but that's purely me being weird. I'd probably change it to "striking" or something else., her world receded into darkness.
Adelaide awoke, her forehead soaked with sweat. She looked around, her lungs gasping for air. Her muscles were tensed, ready to run. Calmness slowly returned to her body as she recognized her surroundings. The goose-feather blanket of her bed had tangled itself around her legs. She felt her face, but her skin was still smooth without a speck of blood. It was just a dream, she tried to reassure herself. She reached under her pillow and pulled out a journal. I'm torn. This was pretty well written, but still obviously a dream from the get-go, and dream openers are getting pretty cliche at this point. You might want to rethink it.
She opened the black-bound book to a blank page and grabbed a quill pen from the side of her bed. She dabbed the pen with ink and began writing furiously.
“Dream Entry Number 21: Same dream, same images that I’ve been having for the past week.” Adelaide paused, placing a hand on her heart, trying to calm herself down. “This time, though, I actually felt the pain. I tasted my blood. It was different, more real. I have no idea what’s going on, who’s after me.” Her hands shook as she wrote the last line. Ever since she was young, the schooling scribes of the palace had taught her the importance of dreams. But the same dream repeated so many times was a little much. She shivered and continued, “I hope I find out soon.”
She was about to go on when the knob on her door turned. She stuffed the book back under her covers and opened her eyes just enough so she could make out the figure coming her way.
A tall girl with bright red, wavy hair entered the room. Adelaide breathed a sigh of relief. These dreams just make me more afraid, she said to herself, rolling onto her side.
“Princess Adelaide,” the girl said, coming over to the bed. “Time to get up.”
“Good morning, Anne,” Adelaide said, pushing herself into a sitting position.
Anne smiled. “You’ve got a full day in front of you, my lady. No time to waste. Martha’s waiting for you downstairs.”
Adelaide returned her smile, looking straight into Anne’s green eyes. “Just give me a few more moments. I don’t want to get up yet. And anyway, I always have to make sure I’m late. It’s my signature move.”
Anne rolled her eyes A pretty forward move for a palace servant. You'd better qualify it soon. Is Anne close enough to be considered a good friend or what?, “Late or not, it’s time to get dressed.” She strode over to the windows and pulled open the curtains. Adelaide squinted against the bright sunlight. She flopped back into her pillows. I would take nightmares over any day in the palace, she thought to herself as Anne tugged her out of bed.
***
“Martha, stick me with that pin one more time and I’ll make sure you never dress me again,” Adelaide snapped at a wizened old woman standing behind her. Her behind was already sore from the number of times that the woman had stuck her with the sharp object. The seamstress shot her a frustrated look and then returned to her sewing, squinting as she wove the needle through the fabric.
“Well, if you kept still for once, your Highness,” Martha mumbled to her jumpy client, “I would be able to see where I be putting it.”
Adelaide sighed, rolling her grey eyes toward the ceiling. She never had the patience to stand still for more than a few minutes. The old woman grunted as she pushed the needle through the tent of material that enveloped the girl. Another sharp pinch bit into her side and she winced. She had to prick me once more in that same spot, didn’t she, Adelaide thought bitterly. An unchecked anger surged through the princess’s veins, coupled with a buzz of excitement. Martha cried out in pain. Startled, Adelaide spun around.
Martha held up her index finger, blood oozing slowly from a prick at the tip. “What-? How-?” the seamstress sputtered, grabbing a strip of white material from her basket and wrapping it around the wound.
A shiver went up the base of Adelaide’s spine and she shook it off. I had nothing to do with that, she reassured herself, but her hands shook under the material. This happened a lot, these accidents, but Adelaide tried to convince herself that they were just that - accidents. Obviously, it's not an accident. Try to disguise it a little better. Don't have her point out the fact that it must be an accident. Instead, show her gut reaction--she feels badly. She feels smug. She doesn't care. Show us how she would feel if she really believed that it was an accident.
Once Marsha had dressed the cut, she lifted the cloth over the princess’s head.
“Thank goodness that’s over,” Adelaide replied, dusting off her lacy petticoats. She shook her unruly curls away from her face and gave Martha a withering look.
“Your eyes don’t frighten me anymore,” Martha said, shaking her head. Adelaide sniffed, looking away. Uh... Well, they should. The princess could have you fired at the very least.
Mumbling to herself, the old granny stood up, her arthritic joints creaking, “Someone ought to teach her to mind her manners.” Adelaide ignored her comment and signaled for Anne to step forward. The redhead walked over, her eyes focusing on the floor at her superior’s feet.
“Anne, take me to the queen,” she ordered. Anne nodded, leading the princess out of the seamstress’s room and into a stony-walled hallway. It was out of the question for servants to even look royalty in the eye. It was an offense that could get anyone thrown into the dungeon. But Adelaide was always able to skirt by the rules and she was one of few royalty who talked to servants as friends, if only in private. She always had to be careful to obey palace customs in public. You never know who is watching, she thought to herself as the pair made their way down the hall. A little random. I had to go back and check to see where the sermon stemmed from. Is she in public now? Why would Anne be so formal when the seamstress was just being so informal two seconds ago?
Anne stepped forward and knocked on the frame of the door. It creaked open, allowing a sliver of light to fall on the pair. Without a word, an elderly man beckoned them inside. The sunlight streaming in from the wide open windows blinded Adelaide and she squinted in the brightness. A solitary ache inside her pulled her towards the light, but she wasted little time contemplating the sensation. She was hardly ever allowed outside. She padded across the marble floor, dismissing Anne at the same time with a wave of her hand. At the center of the room, she stopped and knelt on her knees, her skirt fanning out around her with a whisper of crinkling satin. She bent her head down towards the floor, her pale eyelids coming down over her eyes, contrasting with the circles that had formed beneath them.
“Francois,” a commanding voice ordered from the far side of the room. “Leave us.” The butler bowed and, without a word, slipped out of the room.
The thump of a cane and the clicking of high heeled shoes were the only sounds the girl could hear, approaching her with an even-measured step. Two stilettos stopped inches in front of the girl’s knees, and she raised her eyes. A tall, thin woman with a sharp chin stood above her. Adelaide noticed that there was a small imprint of a heart on the left arm of the woman’s dress. That’s as big as her heart will ever be, the princess thought grimly, her lips pressed together in a thin line. It’s quite ironic that she wears it on her sleeve. Don't point out the irony. Irony and cleverness is always best left for the reader to discover.
A golden crown, identical to the one Adelaide was wearing, sat upon the woman’s black hair. I suspect the queen would have a bigger crown than the young princess. The woman extended her left hand, and Adelaide took it and kissed the black mica ring on her index finger. With a smirk, the woman withdrew her hand and turned around. Adelaide rose, making sure not to fumble with her gown, and followed the woman, bowing her head towards the floor. Servants must get so bored of this terribly drab-looking marble, Adelaide thought to herself. I would never be able to look at the floor for hours every day. The woman walked over to a plush chair and sat down.
“You may sit, Adelaide,” she motioned to the wooden chair across from her.
“Thank you, your Majesty,” Adelaide replied as she bent into a deep curtsy.
The queen drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair as she looked Adelaide up and down. She raised an eyebrow in the girl’s direction and cleared her throat before she began. “Your father and I have spoken of what to do with you, my dear stepdaughter, and I believe we have found the perfect solution. Your father wishes for you to marry before he dies.” She dabbed the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief before she continued. “And the physician says he does not have much longer to live. The disease has utterly destroyed his body.”
Adelaide’s eyebrows creased with worry for a moment before she quickly composed herself. I will show this woman no weakness, she thought, sitting as tall as her short height would allow. Just say "height". The fact that she's straining to sit tall suggests that she is, in fact, short.
“We have decided for you to marry Prince Edgar of Mariquit. The negotiations are taking place as we speak. He and his party are due for arrival in a month hence,” the queen continued.
Adelaide winced. Mariquit was a war-ridden kingdom a bit beyond Magnifica’s bordersNot fond of that last name. . It was rumored that Prince Edgar was an incompetent oaf who participated in the Forbidden Trade. He was known for his unfaithfulness, having at least two previous wives and many mistresses. He was also 20 years older than her. So that’s her diabolical plan, Adelaide thought to herself, she wants me to die a dishonored wife to a man-whore I don't think that unfaithful men, especially in this period, would be considered "whores", but perhaps this is just Adelaide's quirky and very modern personality?. I could not have expected any more than that. I will not marry him, no, I will never marry, she nodded in the queen’s direction.
“As you wish, your Highness,” Adelaide said as meekly as she could muster, quelling her gag reflux "reflex" for the moment.
The queen looked satisfied, “That is all.” She dismissed Adelaide with the wave of her hand.
Adelaide nodded and curtsied then strode towards the exit. Francois opened the door with a brisk pull from the outside and stepped aside to allow her to pass under the arch. Anne had been waiting in the hall and snapped to attention as Adelaide marched past her. The princess’s face was still calm and collected.
“Where am I to escort you, Princess Adelaide?” Anne asked.
“My father,” she said, continuing her journey down the hall.
Anne looked from side to side, before whispering, “But I’ve been told explicitly that only the physician and Queen Victoria are allowed to see him.”
Adelaide stopped in mid-stride. Her steely eyes flashed with an anger that her calm voice did not betray. “How could someone do that?” she hissed, and Anne shrugged For someone trying to be extremely formal, Anne is stupid to shrug at a princess., keeping her gaze fixed on the floor. The pair continued down the hallway, neither looking at the other. Adelaide was positively boiling beneath her composed surface. It’s my father. Blood ties us together, much stronger than anything in the world, she thought.
Curiosity replaced the hate that had enveloped the princess’s eyes. “By whom were you thus informed?” she asked as they turned a corner.
“The queen,” Anne replied, struggling to keep up with Adelaide’s long strides.
Adelaide swore under her breath. “That witch,” she murmured. “Let’s return to my apartments so we can speak in private.”
Anne nodded and glanced up at the princess. Their eyes met for a moment and Adelaide’s gaze softened, a thin smile flashing across her lips. They walked up a spiraling staircase which ended in a gold-emblazoned door.
“Anne,” Adelaide said. The redhead hurried forward and reached into her white bodice, pulling out a cloth pouch. She unknotted the drawstring and pried it open. She withdrew a heavy key from the purse. It was old-fashioned, but its polished shine caught the candlelight.
Anne placed the tip of it on the imprint of a heart that had been stamped into the door. The door blazed orange and a clicking sound erupted from the bottom left-hand corner of the portal. A metal plate extended out of the door containing a keyhole into which Anne inserted the key. Next to it was a small, round disc. Anne reached into the woolen pocket of her brown skirt and uncorked a vial half-full of dark red liquid. She let one drop fall onto the dish before tapping the plate with her index finger. The disc spun in a circle, swirling the red liquid into the shape of a heart. The original golden heart on the door glowed red and with a pop, the latch clicked and the door swung open. Unnecessarily complicated...
Anne replaced both the vial and key to "in" their original places among her clothes and allowed the princess to pass. Adelaide sank into a dark green chair that was in front of a magnificent fireplace. The door closed behind them, the lock clicking back into place.
Adelaide handed Anne a pair of her slippers that needed mending and Anne took her place beside the blazing fire. Anne was known for her stitching and now she weaved the thread in and out of the fabric, closing up a large hole at the toe of the shoe. Is there a depression in the kingdom? I doubt that princesses wear holey shoes. Queen Elizabeth just got commendations for agreeing to rework once-used dresses in the interest of environmental protection or some such thing.
“Why do you think she’s making me marry that odious man?” Adelaide asked, closing her eyes.
Anne shrugged, continuing her sewing. “Does she need a reason?”
Adelaide shook her head. “I don’t know anymore. I really don’t. Ever since the king’s been ill, everything’s been going downhill.” What an unfortunate rhyme.
Anne paused, “Well, maybe she’s afraid that you may have more power than her. By marrying you off to a war-ridden kingdom, she’ll be in full control.” Why would she be worried?
Adelaide’s heart sank. “Yes, that’s probably what it is,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes as the gravity of her arranged marriage struck her. Of all people, places and times, I have to be here under some of the worst circumstances. She bemoaned her fate.
Anne tried to comfort the poor girl. “We still have a month. We’ll figure something out,” she said.
Adelaide shook her head, leaning back into the cushions. It’s hopeless, she thought, rivulets of tears leaking from her eyes. She's whining too much. It's annoying.
Anne stopped her mending, glancing up at the princess. Adelaide was very small for her age. Fragile, with bones as thin as a baby bird, the king had once said. Her height often caused her to be mistaken for a ten-year old while she was nearing eighteen. Now that's just sad. The people of Magnifica called her pale, narrow face beautiful, Took a few readings for me to get the cadence of that line correctly. It's a bit confusing. her golden hair perfect, and her big grey eyes stunning. However, like many other servants and townsfolk, Anne found her looks haunting, especially her eyes. Adelaide’s gaunt flesh and piercing gaze along with her peculiar behavior caused Anne to shiver. Any man that would marry the princess would sure be in for a lot of surprises, she thought. But she kept her thoughts to herself.
“Now, open the windows and let some light in. Lack of fresh air is making me dizzy,” Adelaide murmured, wiping her eyes.
Anne opened her mouth again, but thought better of it and began scurrying to open the shutters.
She took a deep breath as the dim sunlight spilled into her room. The drumming that had been carrying on inside her head dulled and her face broke into the slightest of smiles. She eased herself out of her chair and approached the open window. She placed her hands on the sill and closed her eyes, letting the frigid breeze toss her hair away from her face. Winter in Magnifica is absolutely stunning, she thought. The red-gold rays of the sun bounced off the icicles that hung from the trees and reflected off the frozen, snow-covered ground. She could see the small wooden and clay houses of the villagers, their roofs covered with a thick white icing of snowflakes. She could see everything from her tower.
Anne shuffled behind her. “It’s quite cold, your Majesty, and it would be terrible for you to get the chills,” she said.
Adelaide turned around, her happiness disintegrating, about to return to the fire to find that Anne held a large goose-feathered comforter in her arms. In that moment, Adelaide saw a trace of pity in the servant girl’s eyes, but quickly looked away. I need no such pity, she thought, as jealousy knotted her stomach. Anne is lucky she’ll never have to go through this. She accepted the blanket, a smile crinkling her grey eyes. The quilt warmed her thin shoulders, and she continued to look out at the setting sun.
The whole princess-is-sadder-and-more-jilted-than-her-poor-servant bit is pretty old, so I would consider revising that. Anne could turn into an interesting character, though. I have more feeling for her than for Adelaide. A pretty good start, though. You've introduced the action early on. Looking forward to the next chapter.
:: , i mean you are a really good writer. though i would say a few things,
- i thought that adalaide wanted to visit her father and if she really didn't like her stepmother then why would she give up so easily when anne told her what the queen said ?
Maybe you meant the ceiling looked like one in a cathedral? 
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