Sapphire Read online

  Sapphire

  Copyright © 2014 by Sarah Fay Olson

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: Megan Evans

  Cover design: Armen Kojoyian

  Printed in the United States of America

  To my Abuelo who I love and miss very much.

  Chapter 1

  THE BREEZE SENT a chill down my spine as I lay in the soft grass, allowing the setting sun’s rays to dry the shift and corset that clung to my skin. I closed my eyes and listened to the chorus of songbirds and the gurgling river.

  Fall was coming to the Maplewood Forest in the kingdom of Asteria; I could feel it in the air. Soon the leaves would change and cascade down from the trees.

  “Layla,” a voice said.

  My eyes flew open and I jumped up, ready to run and grab my dress.

  “It’s just me,” my friend Charlotte laughed, pushing a strand of black hair behind her ear.

  “You scared me,” I said.

  “I’m sorry. Mrs. Fallon told me you were out fetching water and that you’ve been gone for an hour.”

  I shook my head. My time gone had been noticed. My Aunt Betsy was going to be furious.

  “Did she send you here to fetch me?” I asked.

  Charlotte smiled. “Maybe. I actually came to wish you a happy birthday. You are sixteen today!” She wrapped her arms around me.

  “Thank you,” I said, hugging her back. “We aren’t doing anything special though. At least I have the Autumn Ball to look forward to!”

  Charlotte pulled away, her hazel eyes suddenly looking sad. “You’re going?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? You are coming with me . . .”

  “I am not sure I will be able to.” She sounded distant. Her eyes avoided mine.

  “Is something wrong?”

  The forest around us seemed to silence as I took a breath, readying myself for some horrible news. Charlotte was never one to overreact and the sudden gloom that had descended over her chilled me.

  “Did something happen to Tristan?” I asked, thinking of her older brother. Before he had left, the three of us had been the closest of friends.

  “No, no,” she replied quickly. “He has pledged his allegiance to King Luther’s army. The only harm he will ever come to is if he has to fight in battle.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Charlotte bit her lower lip. “You mustn’t tell anyone that I told you.”

  I nodded.

  “We are leaving, Layla.”

  I was at a loss for words. Leaving? What did that even mean?

  Her words came out fast as if she knew that if she did not say them now, she never would. “We have to—it’s for my father’s protection. There is a force of people, building beyond the Northern Mountains. It’s something big, Layla—an army of people preparing to overthrow the king.”

  “And you’ve seen them?” I asked warily.

  “Only a few. My father has been sending them supplies, and has even housed a few when they’ve come to town.”

  “Why?” I gasped, appalled. “Why would he put you in that kind of danger? Put Tristan in that danger? He’s a soldier in King Luther’s army!”

  “Layla, Tristan is a part of it. You think he went there without knowing about any of this? He has been sneaking military tactics and secrets to my father since the day they took him.”

  Took him. The words pierced my heart as I remembered how much he hated the thought of being forced to serve in King Luther’s army for five years—the one thing every sixteen year old boy had to do. It had been two years, already, and I missed him every day.

  “Layla, my father would have never put him in that position if Tristan hadn’t wanted to help the rebellion.”

  “But why do you have to leave?” I asked, sorrow of losing Charlotte, as well, filling up inside me.

  “Because another family was just caught doing the same things. Loyal citizens of the king have been reporting any suspicious dealings they see. The king does not actually know about the forces, but he knows something is going on. When King Luther suspects something, he gets rid of the group of people who look suspicious. He is not taking any chances, and neither is my father. If we leave before anyone becomes suspicious of us, the king will not connect anything to Tristan and he will be safe as a soldier. My father has set everything up so it looks like he is going to Malan for work.”

  Not only was Charlotte leaving the Maplewood Forest, but to the neighboring kingdom of Malan.

  “But, you cannot leave!” I exclaimed. “What about the ball?”

  It was the one thing I had been looking forward to attending with Charlotte all year.

  She was two months my senior so the upcoming ball would have been a first for both of us.

  “Layla, are you so selfish to think of only yourself and some ball? This could be the very movement to end Luther’s reign. You should not be going. You know how much your uncle hates the king. You should hate him too.”

  “But why? He has never done anything to me. I’m just a commoner—this has nothing to do with me.” I heard the frustration in my voice. Selfish? I was not selfish!

  “Believe what you want, but I am leaving.”

  “Charlotte—”

  “I’m sorry I won’t be able to go with you. I realize you’ve been looking forward to the ball for years.”

  “Will I ever see you again?”

  “I have faith you will,” Charlotte said, pulling me into a hug.

  I fought the tears and held on to her as if my life depended on it.

  My closest friend was leaving the kingdom to join a rebellion, and I did not know if this was the last time I would ever see her.

  “Here,” Charlotte said, pulling out a leather wristlet entwined with purple ribbon.

  It was an Asterian custom to give a loved one a wristlet if they were leaving on a long journey. It was a way to always carry a part of them.

  She tied it around my wrist next to the one Tristan had given me.

  “I wish I had one to give you,” I said quietly.

  Charlotte smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

  I hugged her again. “Thank you.”

  “I have to go,” Charlotte whispered.

  I nodded. “Be careful.”

  She smiled. “I will. Don’t worry about me.”

  I watched as she mounted the horse she had left at the edge of the meadow. “Goodbye, Layla!” She urged her mount forward and disappeared into the forest.

  I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked down at the empty bucket next to my dress. My shift had almost dried now, so I pulled the dress over my head and filled the bucket with water. I walked through the thicket, toward home, careful not to trip on the tangle of roots sprawled across my path.

  Betsy came out on the porch of the cabin, fixing her graying hair in a bun, just as I came through the trees. She took one look at me and frustration clouded her face. “Where have you been? I sent you for that water an hour ago!” She put her hands on her plump hips.

  I walked up the worn path through the small garden. “I’m sorry, Aunt Betsy. I lost track of time.”

  Betsy took a calming breath. “I’ll let you get away with it today—only because it’s your birthday. Did Charlotte find you?”

  I nodded glumly. Tears began to stream down my cheeks.
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  Betsy’s expression softened. “Come here, dear.”

  I put the bucket down and stepped into her outstretched arms.

  “Is everything all right?” my Uncle Robert asked, coming up behind us.

  “Charlotte came to say goodbye,” Betsy said.

  “Oh, Layla, I am sorry,” Robert said as I pulled away from Betsy. “You will see her again though. I know you will.”

  “I know,” I said, looking down at the two leather wristlets wrapped around my wrist.

  “Why don’t you go inside and freshen up,” Betsy said, picking the bucket of water up. “I will get dinner ready quickly. And Robert, will you bring in some more wood for the fire?”

  “Of course, dear.”

  I followed Betsy into the cabin and headed up the creaking steps to my room.

  Robert and Betsy were not wealthy, but they did all they could to make our home pleasant, especially my room. Walking in was enough to raise my spirits. Robert had the town’s woodcarver make me beautiful furniture with brass knobs and a large vanity with a shining mirror. While the lavish furniture did not fit in with the cabin’s quaintness, every time I walked in I felt like a princess. The white lace curtains at my window matched the pale pink and white floral quilt that covered my bed. On the vanity sat a jewelry box—my most valued possession. It was made of ornately crafted silver and had belonged to my mother. While the jewelry box made me feel closer to my parents, it could not fill the void I felt from time to time.

  My mother and father died from a disease that had spread throughout the kingdom around the time King Luther overthrew the monarchy. Even though they were not my real aunt and uncle, Betsy and Robert had cared for me ever since.

  I changed into a fresh pair of undergarments and dress and then sat in front of the vanity. I combed my long golden-brown curls that had already dried considerably and tied it up into a bun. By the time I finished, the aroma of a delicious stew wafted up to my bedroom. Betsy had made one of my favorite meals.

  Chapter 2

  ONCE WE HAD sat down at the table, the rumbling of my stomach helped me forget about Charlotte. All my sorrow at her parting was gone when Betsy and Robert presented me with the invitation to the royal Autumn Ball.

  My name was written on it in beautiful letters. I broke the wax seal and pulled the invitation out.

  Dear Layla Fallon,

  We are pleased to invite you to join us in celebration at this year’s

  Autumn Ball this Saturday at the Royal Palace of

  King Luther and Queen Alyssa.

  Formal attire is required as well as this letter to verify your invitation.

  We hope to see you then at half past seven in the evening.

  Yours truly,

  The Royal Family

  “It’s finally here!” I cried, nearly falling out my chair. “This is so exciting!”

  Betsy smiled faintly, and I could not detect even a trace of displeasure in Robert’s gray eyes over my excitement.

  Since she and Robert were not fond of King Luther, they had never been thrilled over my wanting to attend the ball. Thankfully, I had gotten them used to the idea. Turning sixteen and attending your first royal ball had always been an important part of becoming a woman and I was not going to miss a second of it.

  “We have something else for you,” Robert said. He stood up and took a large box out from underneath his chair.

  He placed it in front of me and I eagerly opened it.

  My eyes widened when I saw the beautiful emerald green material. It was an elegant ball gown and I held it up.

  It had the perfect large skirt for swishing around a ballroom floor and a silver and crystal decorative pin that resembled a delicate flower centered on the bodice. The gown was sleeveless and off the shoulder with a fairly modest neckline. Even though the pin was its central focus, the ball gown as a whole astounded me.

  “I love it!” I gasped. “It’s gorgeous! I can’t believe you made this for me!”

  I had always wanted a ball gown of my own. Since Betsy ran a seamstress shop, she never had the time or reason to make me one.

  “Well you didn’t expect me to send you to the ball without a gown, did you?”

  I had thought that was exactly what was going to happen. I thought I would have to use one of the simple formal dresses she’d made me.

  “And I made sure she used green to bring out your beautiful eyes,” Robert said.

  My cheeks grew warm as I blushed at the compliment. I was truly happy and grateful Betsy had made me this gown. It was going to make everything better now.

  “Oh, Robert, don’t act like it wasn’t something I hadn’t already been planning on doing!”

  I laughed. “Thank you so very much. It is absolutely beautiful.” I placed the gown back into the box and hugged them both.

  It did not matter anymore that I would have to attend the ball alone, because now I had the most incredible gown I could have ever wished for. It was going to be a night to remember.

  Once I helped Betsy clean the kitchen, I slipped outside and headed to the barn. The night welcomed me with chirping crickets and leaves rustling in the breeze. A single lit lantern hung outside the barn door. I used its flame to light another inside. My horse heard my footsteps and whinnied a greeting.

  “Hello, Dusk,” I said, hanging the lantern outside her stall. I stroked her muzzle as she leaned her head into me.

  Her white mane and hide seemed to glow in the firelight. Dusk was a young horse, about three years old, and in her prime.

  “I bet you’re hungry.”

  She blinked back.

  I laughed. “Hold on.” I put some hay in her stall and brushed her down, letting my thoughts drift from the ball to Tristan. Now that Charlotte had told me he was a rebel spy, I feared for his life.

  What would they do if they found him?

  Not only did I fear for his life, I feared for Charlotte’s as well. Their involvement in a rebellion was dangerous. What happened to the Tristan and Charlotte I had taken to the old castle of Asteria—our secret place where we would explore whenever we could?

  I thought back to the first time I found the castle. I’d been searching for blueberries when I came across its giant stone walls. I knew it was unlawful to trespass, but I had to get a closer look. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Its vine-covered walls and turrets stood at a height I had thought only mountains could reach. I walked around the outer wall searching for a way over when I found a section that had crumbled into a pile of broken stone. I climbed over it carefully and found myself face to face with the towering castle. The distant sound of crashing waves made me realize I had never wandered so far from home.

  Crude wooden boards sealed the castle’s main entrance as well as the windows. They were weathered and rotted so it was not difficult to find a way in through the lower windows. Once I’d crawled in, I found myself in a cellar. The cold, still air sent a shiver down my spine, and a musty smell filled my nose. From the light leaking in through the now broken window, I saw old, dusty barrels piled with torn canvas bags littered around them on the dirt floor.

  I lit a candle with the flint I had in my bag, turning my shadow into an eerie flicker across the wall. Searching for a way out, I spotted a rickety staircase in the corner. I crept up it, cringing at every creak of my footfalls, and stopped at a dusty door. I took a deep breath and turned the doorknob. The door squealed open into a kitchen with long counters and marble iceboxes that were ten times larger than Betsy’s. It would have been quite a sight when all the cooks were bustling about serving the king and his guests. The strewn crockery and broken pots, the tattered remains of chairs and tables evoked a feeling of sadness.

  How could such a grand place be allowed to fall into such ruin?

  A door led into the great hall, a room that stretched almost out of sight. The dark, thick-wooden table was carved with intricate designs that matched the chairs. Tarnished silver chandeliers hung from the ceiling dr
aped with cobwebs. Paintings covered the walls depicting the history of the royal family.

  I inspected them with my small flame. A young man knelt before another who placed a crown upon his head. The kneeling man’s closed eyes gave him a look of humility. Onlooker’s faces were all stretched into smiles, some even cried with joy. It was the coronation of King Hector and something made me believe the artist’s rendition had captured the moment exactly. In the next, King Hector was holding the hands of his beautiful bride, Aria. She was just as striking as in the stories I had been told. Her long blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders and her brilliant green eyes stared into the king’s—the two smiling.

  I continued down the hall admiring more of the paintings. In one, Aria was being crowned queen followed by another depicting a large feast held in the very room in which I stood, with all the important nobles of that time. The very last was of the first and only victorious battle the king had led against Luther.

  I did not stay long to stare at the portraits that lined the other wall, those of other, older kings. Instead, I continued to the adjoining sitting room. A piano and a few scattered sofas remained, their fabric torn, ragged, and stained. Shredded blue velvet curtains dangled from the rods above twenty-foot windows.

  I looked down at the rug stretched out beneath me and found I was standing on a large bloodstain.

  The memory sent a shudder down my spine. I looked over at Dusk as she happily devoured the hay. I envied her lack of worries. She lifted her head and stared at me unblinkingly.

  I smiled. “The ball is going to be wonderful, isn’t it?”

  Dusk turned back to the hay, and continued eating.

  “It will be,” I said.

  Chapter 3

  THE FOLLOWING WEEK rushed past me in a blur of petticoat fittings and shopping for accessories. Betsy took me to a neighboring town, Eagle’s Nest, and bought me dangling earrings that looked like real diamonds along with a cream-colored corset and petticoat.

  The night before the ball, I washed my hair and sat by the fire while Betsy tied it up with wooden spools and rags so that my hair would curl nicely for the ball. When she sent me off to bed, I fell asleep quickly and dreamt of the day to come.