Heir of Golden Storms

My love for the ballroom never ceased to exist. The dim lights of the room with the flickers of the flames in the chandeliers makes the room look mysterious. The light bounces off the colors of dresses, skins, and curtains of the room, adding a brilliant but soothe glow to the ball.

I am on my chair, looking at the people dancing. My back is stretched and stiff, and my arms are laid on the armrest of the chair. My older brother is at my left, looking more relaxed than me. He looks bored as if another ball cannot entertain him.

“What about her?” I ask.

He lifts his lazy brown eyes, taking them away from his hand. He looks at the woman on the light blue dress. Her brown hair is braided and moves against her dancing movements. She dances with a man older than me, but probably around the same age as my brother.

“No,” he simply says. Easton returns his sight to his hand as if it were more interesting than any woman in the room. He might be waiting for his fiancée to be the first person that he dances with.

We must stay in our seats until someone catches our eyes to dance. When someone does, we approach that woman and invite her to dance. No one before the first woman cannot ask us for a dance, but after the first one, anyone can. It is a tradition that has been going on for ages through the whole land.

Instead of looking for someone else for Easton, I decide to look for someone to dance with. I search the crowd for the best dancer and my eyes quickly finds her. A woman in a red dress is dancing with a green skinned man. She smiles every time that he makes her spin. She is not dancing for show, as most of the people in this room. She is dancing for herself. She is dancing for fun.

I stand up and walk slowly, keeping my posture as I meld through the crowd. Dancers all around hold their breath as I walk past them, expecting for me to pick them. I do not even look at them, knowing well that looking at them might mean that I choose them. Instead, I keep my gaze on her.

“Excuse me,” I say to the man dancing with her. He turns around to look at me. He is a few inches taller than me. He has chestnut curly hair and a forest green tuxedo. His forest eyes are bolder than Easton’s brown eyes. He must be one of those forest sprites. “May I have this dance with the lady?”

“Of course, your highness,” he says and takes a few steps back.

I step in where he was and extend a hand to the woman in red. Her blue eyes look at my hand and then at me as if wondering if she should take it. She eventually does and I pull her close. With one hand on her waist and another on her hand, I swing to one side.

I have taken lessons of dancing ever since I was a child, but I learned that lessons could not teach how to enjoy dance. Enjoying dance consists of letting your body move how it wants to move. The instructors detested my way of dancing and tried to correct it, but in the end, I am the one dancing.

“No one has ever hesitated to dance with me,” I tell her, letting my body follow the violins.

“Is the prince accustomed to getting everything he wants?” she says, not an answer, but close enough.

No, I want to say, but I am a faerie. Faeries cannot lie. She is not looking at me and her smile has disappeared. She is not enjoying the dance. Instead of playing it safe and following the crowd, I decide to make my own show.

I move my hand away from her waist and spin my other hand. She twirls around, her dress and blonde hair floating in the air. Before she stops, I extend my spinning hand to my side and pull her, rolling her to my arm. When she is in front of me, inches from my face, I lower her, holding her by the back.

I let my breath go, smiling in the process. She is breathing heavily too. She smiles and that is enough for me to lift her back into standing position. I let her go as I take a step back.

“Thank you,” I say as I take a bow. “Can you grant me the honor of knowing your name?”

“I could, but I won’t,” she says. She performs a curtsy and turns around before I could even dismiss her. I stare at her until she disappears to the crowd.

“May Your Highness honor me with a dance?” someone says at my side.

“Of course,” I say and take her hand towards the dance floor.

***

A knock on the door takes me away from my thoughts. I turn away from the balcony and move towards the door. I open it slowly.

“Yes?” I ask.

“Your Highness, the king asked me to tell you that you must join them at dinner tonight,” the servant standing by my door says.

“Tonight?” I ask but I heard him. “I cannot. My presence is necessary somewhere else.”

“I am sorry, my prince, but the king said that it is non-negotiable,” he says.

For a moment, I stand looking at him. His eyes are on the floor. I sigh and he flinches.

“I’ll be there,” I say and close the door without waiting for an answer.

I walk to the mirror in my room to check on my clothes. I am wearing a white tunic with lines of gold on the ends of it. The color white represents faeries, and not any faerie, royal faeries under my father’s ruling. The color gold represents our court, the Court of Miracles. Every member of the royal family of the Court of Miracles can create miracles, but they come with a price.

If someone wishes for endless gold, we can grant it with the price of the loss of happiness. If someone wishes to rule, it will come for eternal alliance to our court. If someone wishes for a child, it will come for the price of death. Miracles are not an easy task; the bigger the miracle, the bigger the price they must pay.

We do not create miracles ever since we are born. We are prohibited of casting miracles until we understand how they work. The first miracle our family always grant is to their wives or husbands on their wedding day. It has been a tradition ever since our court was founded.

My raven hair is messier than usual. It is one of the aspects that distinguishes me from my family. Every family member has unbelievable golden hair. I also differ on their skin color. Their white skin almost looks like snow while I have a darker color, more tanned than white. What we all have in common are our dark brown eyes. I may not be the most handsome prince, but I am certainly the peculiar.

I take my sword from the corner of my room. Putting it on my belt, I stop to make sure is tight. My sword does not have a name. Swords with names are made specifically by extraordinary smiths and gifted to someone on a special occasion. I took this sword from the armory, since every prince needs to have protection.

I walk outside of the room with my notebook, feather, and a small bottle of ink. I do not bother grabbing a backpack from my room. When I am walking down the stairs through the main hall, I find Ailsa, my sister, walking towards the stairs.

“How are you this morning, Rowan?” she says, talking politely. She is wearing a white gown with brown lines.

“It could be better,” I say. My plans have been changed by my father, but it still will not make me cancel them. “What brings you here?”

“Father wants us all tonight,” she says. Ailsa is married to the king of the Court of Mountains. They are one of the strongest and most savage courts, and they like their women completely the opposite, like Ailsa.

“If father wants us all tonight, it must be important,” I say. She nods. “I am off to school. I will see you tonight.” I kiss her cheek and continue towards the door. I do not bother to create more conversation with Ailsa. She and I have never been closed.

A carriage waits for me outside, and before anyone can suck up to me, I walk past it. The people gathered around the carriage spots me as I leave. They do not stop me. I dare them to stop me.

The school is down the hill of the castle, at the edge of the Slumbering Forest. There is a deforested path that intercepts the forest that leads to different locations. It takes a few minutes from the castle to the school.

Apparently, the Slumbering Forest is dangerous and more dangerous for a prince. Tales of tribes are told that live in the depths of the forest. I have never seen anything worth getting my guard up. I have only seen sometimes eyes poking from the depths of the forest, but they never dare walk out to the path. If they did, I know that they will regret it.

I hear a branch break behind the trees on the right. Another thing might be seeing me passing by. I tend to ignore the eyes looking at me, but this time I turn my head to look. Dark green eyes stare at me. Bold forest eyes burning me.

I remember those eyes. They were at the ball last night, before dancing with the woman in the red dress. He was dancing with her. His green skin gave away that he is a forest sprite. I walk slowly, drawing our distance. Why is he looking at me?

“My prince be careful!” a voice interrupts me. I stop and turn my head towards the road.

Oberon is rushing towards me. He is a clumsy small round man, older than me. He has brown hair with hints of growing bald. He is part of the staff around the castle. Ever since I was born, his job is to keep me safe.

I look back at the wood. The forest eyes are gone.

“What did I tell you about interrupting me?” I tell him as I turn to continue walking. I do not even let him catch up.

“I know, my prince, but you know how dangerous the forest is,” he says as he catches up. His breathing is heavy. “Things are waiting to grasp on a prince to bargain with the king.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask, ignoring what he said.

“You refused the carriage,” he says. “You know that I cannot let you leave the castle alone.”

Even if I order him to stay behind, he will not. My father instructed him to follow me whenever I go out of the castle. The commands from a king are worth more than of a prince.

I continue my way to the school. When I arrive, the students are gathered outside, waiting for the doors to open. The school is a small stone building, with several rooms where classes are taught. Most classes are taught outside, while hardly any are taught inside. Today, the class is inside. We never know what kind of lecture is going to be until the lecturer comes.

“I will see you after lecture,” Oberon says. I wave him off.

I walk to the front of the school. I redirect towards a man standing against the building, near the wooden door. The merman has black hair, lighter than mine. He is about my height, if not two or three inches taller. He somehow always forgets his shirt, showing his marked abs and muscles. His skin is lighter than mines and his eyes are ocean blue. He wears long blue pants and two tight golden bracelets on his wrists.

“Disperse,” I order to the women talking to him. They leave quickly.

“Why did you do that for?” Caspian asks.

“I have had enough of your flirting,” I tell him. He shakes his head.

“Ready for tonight?” Hesperia appears.

She has blonde hair that is laying loose on her back. Her skin is almost snow and her eyes green eyes are always looking bored. She is a faerie that belongs to the Court of Swarm, located underground of the Witches’ Forest. She is part of royalty while Caspian is part of one of the wealthiest families of the Court of Depths.

“Not like I was before,” I say. “Father wants us all for dinner. He even invited Ailsa and my other siblings. Maybe he is going to talk about Easton’s upcoming wedding again.”

The door to the school opens and everyone lets me past first, followed by Hesperia and Caspian. We take a turn to the left and enter the first door. Different containers are on every table, each one with herbs, spices, liquid, roots, petals, and different things. In the middle of every table, two cauldrons stand with red boiling liquid inside.

I take my usual place at the table at the back of the room, farthest to the door. No one looks at the back of the room and the lecturers never redirects their question to us. We can speak and the lecturer will never hear us, or if they do, they never silence us.

Hesperia sits at my right and Caspian across from her. There is only one chair left, and it is located across from me. It has always been left empty on purpose for someone worthy enough to sit beside us. Of course, that someone has not been chosen and thus the chair is left empty.

I lean to see what is inside the cauldron. The red liquid is thick, boiling without a trace of a heat source. I spot the lecturer walking into the classroom. It is an ogre, green skin filled with brown spots. She is holding a living red frog that is the same size of her huge hand.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Hesperia says. Caspian was going to submerge his finger on the cauldron, but he stopped. “She is holding a red frog from the Witches’ Forest. Its venom is strong enough to melt your finger.”

Yes, poison. One talent that I possess, which my family does not, is the ability to create poison. I can create or nullify any potion without the guidance of anyone. This class will be easy, and I will be out of here before the class ends. I could leave before Oberon arrives and be free for a while.

“Welcome, students,” the ogre says, her voice grave. “I am your lecturer Tezza. I have learned about every venom possible in this land. In front of you, there is a cauldron with poison extracted from this red frog found at the Witches’ Forest. Its venom is deadly for faeries, sprites, and merfolk. Your assignment will be to nullify the venom in front of you. You will realize the assignment in partners.”

I do not need a partner, but as I look at my right, I see Caspian and Hesperia looking at me. They know that I am good with poisons and they both want to be my partner. Before I can choose who is going to be my partner, Tezza hands Caspian a book.

“There are three students here,” she says, more to herself. She turns to face the class. “Who else does not have a partner?” A woman with white hair raises her hand as she stands up. “Come here. There is someone here without a partner.”

“It is Common Cold,” Hesperia tells me and groans.

Once, many years ago, the woman with white hair sneezed near Hesperia. The air that came through her nose hit Hesperia on her hand. The problem was that the white-haired woman is from the Court of Winter. She is part of some random and unimportant family, but she can freeze anything that she wants. Her sneeze came cold and it froze Hesperia’s hand. That is how she got her nickname of Common Cold.

“Fine, I will take her as my partner,” I tell her. “Besides, she might not know a single thing about poison. I can order her to look at the wall while I finish quickly.”

Common Cold sits across from me, not daring to look at me or Hesperia and Caspian. She keeps looking at the floor, not saying a word. Tezza hands me a book with the information of poisons and ingredients, but I wave her off.

“I do not need it.”

“Of course, my prince,” she says and leaves without questioning.

I move my head near the cauldron and sniff the red frog’s venom. It smells like a smith’s workshop, burned metal and iron. I grab the first glass container and open the lid. I take a sniff of the leaves inside. They are obviously oak tree leaves. I put it back and take the second one. As I sniff it, I realize that it is ginger roots. Only good for tea. The third container has earthworms that are nowhere near death. I do not bother opening it. Only a fool will throw it inside the poison.

At my right, I see that Caspian is throwing one earthworm inside his cauldron. His venom starts boiling faster and the color has change from red to maroon. I shake my head. That will only make the venom deadlier.

“A-anything that I can help with, Your Highness?” Common Cold asks.

“Do not interrupt me,” I warn her. “Give me a string of your hair.”

I take the wooden mortar from the side of the table as Common Cold gives me a string of her hair. Is she expecting me to touch her hair? I could catch something worse than a cold. Instead, I let her put it in the mortar. I take a container with light pink petals from the table. It smells sweet. I put it in the mortar and open the container with the oak leaves. I mashed the ingredients after adding the oak leaves. I toss it into the cauldron.

The venom’s boiling intensifies, causing Caspian and Hesperia to look at me. Common Cold’s eyes are wide, not directed at me but at the cauldron. The solution starts dying down until it stops. The color has been changed to a light purple. I smell it. It smells soft, with a faint smell of burning.

“Grab the cauldron,” I tell Common Cold as I stand up. I walk towards the front of the class where Tezza is sitting behind the desk. “Done.”

Common Cold stands behind me with the cauldron on her hands. Tezza raises her head looking at me with her black eyes that do not have irises. “Are you sure?”

I blink. Is she doubting me? I snap my fingers at Common Cold without moving my eyes from Tezza. Common Cold puts the cauldron on the desk, next to the red frog that is in a jar. Before letting Common Cold take a step back, I grab her wrist and push her hand into the cauldron. She squeals and tries to pull back, but I keep it there and my eyes on Tezza’s eyes. It takes a few seconds before Common Cold realizes that the venom is neutralized and cannot harm her. I let her hand go and she pulls it back fast.

“Excellent,” Tezza says as she stands up. “For extra credit, can you make the venom drinkable?”

I do not answer. I walk towards the cabinet with the spices and pull a container with salt. I return to Tezza and the cauldron. I open the container and with my fingers, take a small amount of salt. I spread it on the surface of the solution. As the salt dissolves, the solution turns clear. When it is done, I take the cauldron and start drinking the clear liquid. I drink it completely before putting it back at the desk. The salt destroyed the rest of the venom that was left on the solution and turned it into water.

“Excellent, Your Highness,” Tezza says. I turn around to leave but she says, “Excuse me, Your Highness, I am sorry to interrupt you. I am giving every student an assignment for tomorrow’s lecture. You do not have to do the assignment, but if you want, the assignment is to nullify the venom from inside the frog without killing the frog.”

I do not give her my answer. I walk back to my chair and pick my ink, journal, and feather.

“The assignment will be with your same partner as today,” Tezza says before I can leave.

I turn around. Common Cold is standing next to her chair, holding her bag with one hand. She has her eyes wide. She is afraid of being my partner, and I am not thrill of being hers either. Expressionless, I tell her, “Let’s go,” and walk out.