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This is the very first chapter of Shards of Reverence, the first book in the Truth to Light series!  Keep in mind, this is NOT the finalized version, but the first draft version, so it is a little rough around the edges!  Enjoy!

Music resounded from the corner where the musicians played a reel. The people of Celta were celebrating the birth of their princess. Kristal turned fifteen, her frail body hunched over in her wheelchair as Delia stood behind her. The song was a lively tune, with a high-pitched flute accompanied by plucky fiddles. It was a popular song to play at parties all throughout Celta, and, according to the queen, was one of Kristal’s very favorites. The queen hummed along to the melody and tapped her foot, while Kristal kicked her food around on her plate with her fork. She sighed, wondering when this would be over. Kristal had no friends near her, save for her guard, Delia, but she was barely a friend. Delia was hired by Kristal’s mother when Kristal was very small, to watch over her and not let anyone too close to her. Kristal was sickly and very weak, her mother warned everyone. Kristal spent most of her time in her bed chambers in her own wing of the castle, far from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the Halcyon Acropolis. It was a lonely existence, but Kristal had managed to make it work for her.

Kristal was a lovely young woman, taking more after her departed father than her mother, the queen of Celta. She had long, golden-blonde hair that fell to just below her should blades. Today, it was tied back and secured with pins and adorned with fresh flowers. The queen insisted that Kristal’s hair be adorned with flowers of red and blue on a day like today. Kristal never argued with her mother, she was always happy just to be let out of her chambers. She was placed in her wheelchair within moments of exiting her room. Kristal felt trapped in that damned chair. It was comfortable, but she wished she would be allowed to sit and to stand on her own. She had worn her favorite dress for this day; a beautiful long dress made of thick cotton. It was bright cobalt blue and had long sleeves with small bells that stopped past her wrists. There was golden thread embroidered into a small floral design through the skirt. It was sparkling, yet subtle. Kristal wore slippers with short heels, because she was assured there would be dancing at her party. There was dancing. But Kristal was not on the floor, nor would she be.

“Your legs are simply too weak to stand for long!,” her handmaids had said to her. “You look so lovely today, My Lady.” They always changed the subject to flattery whenever Kristal tried to object to her mother’s wishes for her.

Kristal sighed heavily.

Delia looked down at the princess. Delia was standing over Kristal’s right shoulder, which was her position at all times when Kristal made a public appearance. Delia was a wild-looking woman. The sides of her head were shaved and her hair was a cascading mess of braids and thick curls. Her eyebrows were low and arched above her large eyes. Her mouth was set in a frown. She wore clothing typical of guards of Celta during festivities, which she hated. Chainmail shirt with a red tunic over it and gray leather pants. Her usual attire was more along the lines of skimpy animal furs and leather sandals which laced up to her knees. She was a wild woman of the forest of Faethros, forced into a domestic job in Celta. Delia felt like a wild bird in a small cage.

“Is everything alright, My Lady?,” Delia asked Kristal, turning only her eyes in the direction of Kristal.

Kristal sighed heavily again. “I’m tired,” she lied.

“Do you wish for me to tell your mother, then?,” Delia asked, raising an eyebrow. As long as she got to get out these gods-forsaken clothes, she would do just about anything.

Kristal shook her head. “I’m sure she’ll grow bored of gushing about me soon enough and cut the party short.”

Delia huffed and shrugged her shoulders, turning back to scanning the crowd of onlookers. She saw the looks the people gave Kristal. Looks of pity, of doubt. It disgusted Delia. If only they could see Kristal behind closed doors. Kristal was stronger than the queen led people to believe, but it was not up to Delia to question or debunk the ruler of Celta.

Kristal glanced at her mother. She was chatting with some of the nobles and scholars at the far end of the table and laughing. The queen was a stunning woman with ebony hair and fair, milky skin. She wore her make up dark and always had her hair down and brushed into a smooth, silky shine. The queen’s favorite color had always been a deep plum, but lately, she had begun to wear more and more black. Kristal thought her mother was the picture of perfection; she was always poised and very proper and soft spoken. Kristal sometimes pondered if she looked more like her mother she might love her more. Sometimes, when the queen looked at Kristal, Kristal thought she could see resentment behind the fake smiles and adoration. Only at public events did Queen D’Foria ever bother to speak to or see Kristal. That never stopped Kristal from trying to win her mother’s true affections, however. Oh, what life would be like if she were healthy. Maybe then, her dear mother would have her wish of a good daughter and a perfect princess for the people.

Kristal looked away and stared down at the food on her plate, wiping her eyelashes with the sleeve of her dress. “Delia,” she announced sharply.

Delia glanced down at Kristal. “Yes, My Lady?”

“Tell Mother I’ve grown weary and wish to retreat to my chambers now.”

“As you wish, My Lady,” Delia replied, bowing her head slightly and ducking away. Thank L’Harra, she cheered to herself with a smug grin.

Kristal watched Delia slink behind the other guests at the buffet table and make her way to Queen D’Foria. Delia knelt and whispered into her ear and the queen dismissively waved her hand and continued with her conversation. Kristal was in the clear to leave. Delia returned and pushed the wheelchair out of the banquet hall, and closed the grand doors behind them. She then helped Kristal to stand and held her arm as she guided the princess to her chambers. “I hate parties,” mumbled Kristal, mostly to herself, but loud enough for Delia to hear.

Delia chuckled. “Why do you say that, My Lady?”

“I’m always stuck in that damn chair-I can walk, you know! And I do wish you’d stop calling me that when there’s no one around, Delia.”

“I apologize. Kristal. But it is the queen’s wish to have you seated and comfortable. It is bad for your health to be too active.” Delia cringed hearing herself speak that way. If it were up to her, she would be striving to improve Kristal’s quality of life, not coddling her.

“I do not get my own say in anything. I’m well enough to be my own person, Delia.” Kristal pressed her lips tightly together and took a deep breath, feeling her emotions rise. “I know I am,” she whispered.

Delia whispered back in response, “As do I, Princess.” Delia cleared her throat as they approached a large wooden door. It was very ornate, engraved with a large, circular glyph with many other shapes within it. Strange runes were carved all along the edges of the circle and words in a language Kristal didn’t know within the smaller shapes. It was a lock. An elaborate lock, that Queen D’Foria had had placed upon the door for Kristal’s protection. D’Foria had grown paranoid that assassins were after herself and her child. Delia held her palm to it and once the magic within the glyph recognized the markings tattooed on her palm, there was a gentle “click” and the door swung open. “Your mother wants what is best for you, Kristal, that is all. Soon enough, she will see that you’ve grown able and will start giving you more and more small freedoms.”

“I doubt that,” Kristal replied. “I’ll die alone in this tower long before she does of old age.” Kristal didn’t await a response. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, fighting back her angry tears.