Queen Eva de Movelle sat at her throne in the Palace by the shore of the Romance District. Her brow was furrowed with worry, a crease creating itself between her brunette eyebrows.
There had been rumours of an invasion to come. In the dark alleyways of Thriller, people whispered about a group of rebels that planned to migrate to the realm of Movelle. According to Eva’s undercover spies, the rebels were more than rebels. They were criminals, each convicted of indescribable crimes, crimes that the Queen would not be able to cope with if they came . . .
She needed to relax.
She needed to stop thinking about it, to stop worrying.
She needed a holiday.
“Molly!” Eva called for her faithful handmaid, Molly Looby, who promptly entered the Hall, red-brown hair bobbing at the top of her head.
“Your Majesty, you called?” she asked, curtsying politely in her blue gown.
“Indeed, oh Servant. Pray, call upon Pauline. We’re going away for a while.”
“No! No, no, no, no and no!” a young woman sat at the head of a long oak table, in a dimly-lit room, at the far end of the East Wing of the Palace. “The Queen,” she said through gritted teeth, looking at a letter in her hands. “is going on vacation to Wattpad Island. She is to take Molly of Looby and Pauline Atsign, her handmaids, with her. And they are to leave tomorrow.”
The members of the High Court who sat at the table gasped; the news they had come to learn was most unfortunate. What with the rumours of invasion going around, the realm needed reassurance and peace, and that needed to come from the Queen. This was going to be a hard task indeed.
“And we are meant to look after all twelve districts? Prodigy, do pass me the scroll.” Prodigy passed the scroll to the young man, blonde-brown hair reaching his eyes.
“Here, Paul. I received it this morning.”
“B-but what are we meant to do?!” another woman piped up from the far end of this long table that seemed to inhabit mostly females. Her green eyes were filled with worry, her brown hair covering her eyes. The woman seated next to her grabbed her hand reassuringly.
“All will be well, Jess. We’ll get through it.” She smiled sweetly at Jess, before turning to Rodrigo, who was staring at the fish tattoo on his arm. “Rod, is Saphira strong enough for combat?”
He looked up quickly, thinking.
“Uh, yes, I believe she is, Antiquity. I don’t know though, since Raven happened, she’s been weak,” he glared at the woman opposite him, whose hair was the same as her name: pure raven black.
“Excuse me? I did nought wrong. Taking her for a flight isn’t doing anything wrong.”
“Well, actually it is, she was tired that day, Eragon had been training with her and Tris-“
“Well, how would I know she was tired?” Raven interrupted. A quiet voice spoke up from the other end of the room.
“Aww, Rad. How cute!” she giggled in unison with the girl next to her, Sparrow.
“I know, right! Chloe, Sparrow, we should totally plan the wedding,” said Myrah excitedly.
From the other end of the table rose yet another woman, her brown eyes heavy with experience, a dagger visibly worn at her belt.
“Oh, calm down, all of you. We must focus on the matter at hand.”
“Rogue’s right, all of you. With the Queen on vacation-“ Prodigy was interrupted by Rod.
“You mean ‘on holiday’,” he said.
“No, I mean on vacation.” She answered, running a hand through her own short brown hair.
“But that’s the American way of sayi-“
“Enough!” Paul shouted, putting the scroll down. “As much as I love banter, today we have to concentrate . . .”