by Mira Zamin
THE PUPPET QUEEN
A Tale of the Sleeping Beauty
Mira Zamin
Copyright 2012 Mira Zamin
Cover design by Mira Zamin
Cover image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons: Sweet Nothings (oil on canvas), John William Godward (1861-1922)
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be distributed or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without written permission from the author.
PART ONE
Sunset
Chapter One
The black and white striped arches blurred and bobbed dizzily as I scrambled up the twirling tower stairs. “Auralia!” I cried.
As I whirled into our chamber, a gale of a girl, my twin sister Auralia raised her head serenely and with equal sedateness lowered her book. Even her seat was perfect: legs crossed to the side with sky-blue skirts draped just so. There was a reason why she was always indicated to me as the paragon of a young noblewoman. She marked her page and watched me with composed expectation.
I was well-known around Aquia City, a dark haired girl in fine, torn tunics. Although my parents were the Emira and Emir-Consort of Aquia, vassals of Queen Erina of Ghalain, and could ascend to the throne after her death, people hailed me with comfortable recognition. Even when I tumbled into trouble, I was always lucky, golden-tongued, with such a honey-smooth way with words that I could wiggle out of most trouble. In those days at least.
I plopped down beside Auralia, ignoring the dirt on my tights that rubbed into the white silk coverlet. Loose strands of hair, like stray straws of a bird’s nest, poked out of my braided ebony coronet.
“I found the most delicious spot in the Letern Woods,” I announced merrily. “Near the creek, there’s a bent plum tree with a canny crooked elbow that’s perfect for sleeping. And such sweet plums, tiny but juicy!” I smacked my lips. “Heavenly.”
With my youngest sister, Gieneve, or my older brothers, I spent my days skulking on the plains, wandering through hills, or exploring the banks of the Menander River that snaked all the way to Ghalain’s capital. Nothing was unfamiliar to me and no one was unfamiliar with me. Yet, Auralia was far more content here within the Mehal Palace. Usually, I had to expend the entirety of the gold of my tongue to convince her to join me.
She looked at me impassively, but I could spot the twinkling amusement behind the veneer.
“You may have to change,” I said, doubtfully eyeing her garb. “Nurse Beya would have a fit if you ruined that lovely gown.”
Auralia sighed but obligingly stood up. Bound in an intricate braid, her crackling gold hair swung about her hips like a climbing vine. “You’re sixteen for Seasons’ sakes. Someday, you should try acting like it.”
“Fifteen,” I maintained. “Our birthday isn’t until next week.”
“Sixteen,” Auralia said firmly, but an amused grin cracked through.
“Rory, this will be the last time I ever venture into the woods,” I vowed dramatically. “I promise you, but only if you promise to come with me today.” I stood on the bed, my legs spread wide, one hand clasping my heart, the other reaching for the sky.
“Oh, be quiet,” she laughed, throwing a pillow at me. I tumbled over. “You’ll never do that.” I opened my mouth to object, but she continued. “And I wouldn’t want you to either. I’ll come with you of course.” She dimpled. “Consider it my birthday gift.”
“Aye! That’s a nice way to wiggle out of purchasing me a proper present!”
Shedding her blue silk, Auralia pushed herself into a green gown of durable linen and slipped on my extra pair of leather boots. Pearl earrings glinted through her hair. “How do I look?”
I stared at her incredulously. “Like you’re going on a picnic.”
“Excellent.” She flounced ahead, but turned back with an impish grin. “And Lina, I have news I think you'll like.”
“What?”
“Lord Ferdas is visiting.” Auralia watched closely for my reaction.
I blushed and then cursed myself for the pinkness staining my cheeks. Ferdas was the swarthy son of a respected statesman from the emirdom of Aawset who frequently visited Aquia on important diplomatic business. I thought him very handsome.
Auralia paused, momentarily emotionless, but then her face split into a wide smile.
“Are you quite certain?” I said, attempting—and failing spectacularly—to approximate indifference.
Auralia wound her skirt tightly around her fingers until they blanched. “Oh yes.”