Starlight, Ch. 3

For the entire day, it has been nothing but ‘Iriline, defensive spell, now,’ ‘Iriline, enchant our blades before we use them on you,’ and a little bit of ‘Iriline, get your magical butt over her now,’. This castle had no respect for me.

“Iriline, why haven’t you fortified the walls yet? They could attack any minute now and you are just sitting here-” the General yelled in my face. I had been taking the entire castle's orders for the entire day, and now the sun was setting. And so was my patience.

“I could stop your heart faster than you can blink, General. Do not test me. I am still a member of the royal family, whether you lot like it or not. I will fortify the walls once I am done with the rest of the tasks you have so kindly laid out for me,” I said, taking a step closer to him. He backed up a little.

I walked off, leaving him to bark orders at his underlings. I do wish my mother hadn’t run off to tell the King that we were under attack from a foreign enemy. And while I had tried my very best to explain to the King that it was a small party, and the current guard could handle them, he didn’t listen. Nobody ever listens.

They had a bit more respect for me when they were in a better mood, but not today. The other kingdoms respect me to the highest degree, even more so than the princes. The King knows of this, and every time there is a party, he has my mother's ladies doll me up all pretty and delicate so I looked like a real princess. They put me in fancy dresses and cover my face in powder and paint my lips red and my eyelids green. I hated parties like those. I felt disgusted with myself, sitting on my throne that was even bigger than the princes.

***

I attended a party once when I was sixteen years old, that cemented my belief that being dressed up like a princess is never a good thing. I remember going to hide in my tower, and my mother's ladies dragging me out a few hours early to make me look presentable. I had my hair done up in my green scarf this time, and I wouldn’t let them touch it. They settled on wrapping a chain with gold coins around my head, so my scarf matched my dress.

The dress they chose was a beautiful thing. It was a thin dress, not big and poofy like my mothers were. It was green, with black and gold accents. There were gold discs dangling from parts, probably so someone would hear me if I tried to sneak off.

“Do you like it?” said Elzebel, one of my mother's ladies.

“Yes, it’s gorgeous,” I told her through gritted teeth.

“The designer took inspiration from the Desert Mage of old times. She apparently wore coins on her headscarf. It symbolizes great power,” she said. That’s all my father saw in me. Not a daughter. A tool. A weapon. Power. I was power.

They did my makeup, lightening my face and lining my eyes so they looked sharp. Elzebel painted gold details on my face, on my lips, and all over. When I looked in the mirror, I looked like a completely different person. My face was lighter than it already was, which I thought was impossible, and there was a beautiful pattern of golden swirls above and below my eyes, like a mask painted on. My lips were gold and my eyes were lined with gold. This I actually did like.

“Thank you,” I told her. She nodded, packed up her things, and exited with the rest of the ladies. I sat on my throne by the King as guests from all over started to arrive. I was the only one who wasn’t wearing some sort of mask. The gold paint was my mask. Once the party had really picked up, people started to come and talk to me, and I sipped champagne, and waited for the event to be done. Some came to talk about magic, others about favors, and others still about my father.

The General, who was then a Commander, came up to me as well. He was never particularly handsome, but he had power. Some women liked that. I didn’t. I was the power. At least that's what my father thought.

“Great Mage Iriline, would you care for a dance?” he asked me. I blinked a few times, then looked at my mother’s ladies, and Elzebel gave me a thumbs up.

“Sure,” I said, taking his hand and rising from my throne. He was a tall man, much taller than me, with pale skin and jet-black hair that fell in his face. His suit tonight was blue and white, with some gold detailing. He had a white mask on, that was painted with blue speckles. He had a decent face, with a sharp jawline and even features, but I never really liked him. Maybe it was the way he treated his soldiers. He put one hand on my waist, and one on my shoulder, and I did the same. I was never a good dancer, but I kept up with the tempo of the music and swayed to the tune.

“Iriline, do you know if your parents are going to marry you off when you’re older, or are you free to marry who you want? On account of them not making you a princess and all,” the Commander said.

“Mages typically do not wed for alliances,” I told him.

“So you are free to marry?” he asked. I didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“Yes. I would most likely marry another Mage if the King forces me to marry at all. If it was up to me, I would be alone in my tower for eternity,” I laughed slightly, hoping he would take the hint. Instead, he twirled me around and dipped me close to the floor.

“That seems so boring though,” he said.

“Boring is fine for me Commander,” I told him.

“Please, call me Kieran,” he said. When the song was over, I went back to my throne to stay away from Kieran. Elzebel came up to me later on.

“Didn’t go so well?” she questioned.

“Nope,” I said.

“Well, there is that girl over there,” she pointed at a girl in a pink and yellow dress with her hair in a crown braid around her head. She was gorgeous. “She’s been eyeing you all night. And that little Mage boy, he’s been staring at you like you are the shining sun. Don’t let Kieran put you off. Go have fun, dance, while you're young,” she said. The girl in the pink and yellow dress was hilarious to talk to. She had a group of friends around her, laughing with us. We drank and ate and dared each other to do stupid things. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was more than just the Great Mage. I was a companion. A friend. I remember laughing with those girls as the party slowed, and guests started leaving. More people said their goodbyes and exited the castle, and so did my new friends. The servants started cleaning up and I went to speak to my father.

“Can’t you bother somebody else? The diplomats aren’t here anymore, you can stop acting all high and mighty,” he waved me off. That was when I realized exactly how much I meant to my family. He only cared about me when he needed something. I looked like a princess. I acted like one. So why did nobody treat me like one? Where was the respect that a princess is entitled to? Where is the respect that the Great Mage is entitled to?

***

The castle was awake as the sun went down, my parents in their throne room, my brothers in their rooms, hiding in the corner with the crown guard standing at their door. I sat in the throne room, on my throne, my hair still tied up.

“Father, if they haven’t come by now…” I trailed off, leaning against the back of my throne. He would never go to sleep while a threat to his rule lurked outside. My father called for food and wine. A servant rushed off to retrieve it. I felt my eyes start to close, my head start to get foggy, and the distant conversations of my parents getting drowned by the storm of my thoughts. I shut my eyes and listened to the world get quiet. The last thing I heard somebody say was something about cheese.

And then the door exploded. My mother shrieked, and my father cursed. The door was made of wood, held together by metal bands bolted to it. The handles of the door were big metal rings that could only be opened from the inside. The explosion was small, not enough to rip the doors to shrapnel, but enough to break the handle. There was a burst of bright orange fire, then black smoke. Both doors slammed to the ground, slapping the stone floor. The noise they made popped my ears, and there was a ringing coming from all over. When the smoke and dust cleared from the air, there stood a woman.

She was gorgeous, tall, and slim. She had wavy blonde hair that flew behind her, almost as long as my own. She wore orange and yellow robes that fluttered in the wind. There were golden moons all over her dress. Around her ankles, wrists, and neck were thin gold wires. She wore no shoes.

“I am the great rising sun, and you, the blessed of Osmore, are shadows I am sworn to banish,” she declared. “Mage,” she said, pointing a finger at me, “Remove your headscarf. This is war, and you will not pretend that all is settled,”

I looked to my father for guidance. He was up and running, down the escape route. He wasn’t expecting a Mage to burst through the door.

“Iriline, do something,” my mother screeched, as the Mage woman walked ever closer. She turned and followed my father down the hallway. Cowards. The Mage woman wasn’t alone. She was followed by a few men. They didn’t follow the direct method of kicking down the door and announcing their presence. They walked quietly in, following the edge of the room, turning into the hallways. I counted six of them. My psychic readings weren’t always accurate.

“Well Iriline isn’t this a fine predicament,” I sarcastically muttered to myself. The Mage woman held out her arms as if she were expecting a hug.

“Sister, we are at war. There is no need to look so at peace. You may remove your headscarf. You may fight me here if you so desire,” She said, drawing her arms closer together.

“I will not fight you,” I said. “Osmore is not at war and we will not declare war over a group of rebels invading our home. You will gather your men and leave. This castle is a maze. So I would find them fast,” Internally I was smacking myself in the forehead. They. Had. A. Map. Iriline. You. Big. Dumb. Idiot.

“We know this castle front and back, Great Mage. Now will you do me the honor of a battle? It will go down in history, the Great Mage of Osmore against the Sun Mage of Eltrine,” I didn’t know what she was planning. She wasn’t dressed for battle, more like a performance, a performance in a circus, or something of that nature. If she was to fight me, where was her armor, her potions? Where was her spell book? No Mage worth their salt goes into a battle completely unprepared. Focus Iriline. What are they after? Your family. To make a statement. Kill the royals. Cripple the kingdom. Protect your family Iriline. I had never done this spell before. If it worked, things were going to get loud.

“Movere sub terra caelum supra incipiunt torquere et convertam ut terram nostram inviolatos abituros,” I threw my arms up in the air. I could see the terror cross the Mage’s face. She knew the spell. At least, she thought she did. The ground beneath me shook, trembling and rattling. The hallway my parents ran down closed up, and another doorway opened about ten feet above it. There was more shaking and groaning of the stone castle, before it finally settled. Rocks tumbled loose, and pebbles fell. Dust was everywhere, more than when the Mage exploded the door. I coughed and waved it out of my face.

“I can’t believe you just did that. Sure, my men are disoriented, but so are yours. You could have just trapped the royals in a hole somewhere, surrounded by my men,”

“But I didn’t,”

“How could you possibly know?”

“I’m just that good,” I lied. The spell she thought she heard was a spell that, when done correctly, can change the layout of the surrounding land completely. You can’t see it on flat ground, but in a building, the ceilings become walls, the floors become ceilings, and the doors and hallways get all mixed around. It was originally invented by a trickster mage, to help his father steal the better farmland from his neighbors. What I said was a variation of the spell, turning it into an illusion of all senses. Except for touch and taste, because that would just be the real thing. And nobody is tasting a wall. The sounds, the lighting, the doors flipping around, the smell of dust in the air, it was all an illusion. And the Mage was buying it. I was just glad it worked. I wasn’t sure my edits to the spell would hold up. She looked around, shaking her head, trying to orient herself. When she got a bearing of her surroundings, wham.

She clapped her hands together, and the brightest light I’d ever had the misfortune of seeing flashed from the palms of her hands. It burned my eyes and was hot on my skin. She couldn’t actually fight me, her magic was based in light. That’s why she was dressed like a performer. She was one. There was no danger here, I thought, as I shut my eyes tight. She was holding that spell for an awfully long time. Usually, light is just used as a flashbang at the start of a fight.

I was knocked to the ground by something behind me. It was a person, I couldn’t see who, the light, it was terrible. I shoved the person off and made a run for the hallway my parents had escaped to. It was a combination attack. I felt along the wall until I found the spot that I could pass my hand through. I jumped through my illusion and ran.