My bruised hands mop the floor, my skin burning.

“Alia, these floors better be sparkling by the time I arrive home with the girls,” Mrs. Spar demanded.

I looked at the expanse of dirtied marble, footsteps of mud cover the surface. It’ll be impossible to clean this floor in time.

“Mrs. Spar, I won’t have enough time. People from your ball just left. There’s no way in twenty minutes I can have—“

Mrs. Spar kicked me in the ribs, causing piercing pain.

“Do not talk back to me! I don’t care that you may not have enough time, make it be enough time!”

She rushed off to her carriage, leaving me with yet another bruise and burning rage.

I cleaned the dishes slowly, my head aching from the warmth.

I stared out the window, desperately wishing to run through the golden meadow and practice my swordsman skills under the cloudless sky.

“Alia!” I hear Mrs. Spar shout. “Alia! Missy wants you!”

I set the pan down, and urge myself to Missy.

Missy looks at my dirtied gown and red hands.

“You smell like soap, sister,” Missy said with disgust.

I remained silent.

“My hair needs doing before the ball tonight. Do it,” Missy demanded, pointing her fingers to the ribbons.

I sighed, but answered her demand by brushing her curls and braiding her hair.

“It’s quite awful you must stay here, sister, but Mother is right, you need to finish your chores before you can go out,” Missy said.

I force myself not to laugh at her absurdity. Missy has no chores, only I do, because Mrs. Spar hates my guts. Why? Because my father loved me more than he loved her.

After I see Mrs. Spar and Missy leave for the ball, I wander outside in the cool darkness.

My hands brush violets and sunflowers.

I hum a song as I walk in the peaceful night.

“Alia Fawn,” I hear a low voice say.

I stop in my tracks.

A man walks from the darkness, his hair the color of ravens and his face full of cold beauty.

I instantly freeze in fear as Prince Damien, my kingdom’s enemy, towers over me.

“The King of Starr demands your presence,” he utters.

I gulp. “Why?”

“Your father was a famous blacksmith. The King wishes to obtain his famous sword that is said to be crafted with pure moonlight,” Prince Damien explained.

My head bows in shame.

“Prince,” I explain, “my father’s sword is locked away from my use. My stepmother, Penelope Spar, took it from me after my father’s death, even though he willed it to me. I am so sorry.”

Tears rim my eyes.

“You are deprived of what is yours?” Prince Damien questioned, with a slight tone of anger. “And yet you are kind and obliging.”

I stare at the dirt beneath me. “I harness this fury of rage in my heart, though I am fearful of releasing it,” I confess.

Prince Damien studies me with curiosity.

Finally I let in. “But I am tired of following the rules,” I say. “I’ll get my father’s sword, but I may need your help, Prince.”

“That is why I am here,” he responds. “And I’ll have you know, my father does not wish to keep the sword, only to study it. But in return for you willingness, my father will grant you homage in our home.”

“Why are you being so kind to a poor woman?” I question.

“Alia Fawn, you are not poor, not in my kingdom. I’ve seen your skills in swords, that is why I am here as well, to recruit you to my kingdom,” Prince Damien says.

My home kingdom has given me nothing, but the ‘enemy’ has offered me everything.

I made my decision.

“If only this world had shown me a little more mercy, maybe I’d be kinder,” I say as I stare at the blazing fire that was once my home.

Prince Damien holds my father’s sword as I hold my own.

I follow him to his kingdom, knowing I’ll finally live the life I’ve always dreamed.