1. The Sorrow and the Strife

A solemn face emerged from the thick of the blue flowered vines hanging around the tower balcony doorway. She walked gracefully out into the sweet-scented open air as the icy wind played and dance in her shoulder-length blond hair, which streamed with the wind in natural curls. Her sparkling eyes gazed out thoughtfully into the horizon—the color of the sea on a cold winters' day—as the moon hung over the glistening snow and ice. She had a slim figure and was of normal height and stature and a graceful posture that rang out, "I am beautiful!" She was beautiful. There was never any doubt.

Upon her head sat a delicate crown of silver, engraved with beautiful tiny diamonds. Her royal name was Keilantra Skyler Jayden Adianca Dianna Kay. Her face turned skyward, towards the moon, towards the navy blanket, dotted with sparkling stars that covered the earth at night and towards the snowflakes that landed lightly on her fair-skinned face. She laid her slender fingers on the ice cold banister of the balcony, opened her perfectly sculpted lips and began to sing a song given by the name "A Song of Elven Romance."

The sorrow and the strife

I can't believe my life.

You've hurt me like a knife,

But I'll pull through.

You who I see again,

I cannot stand the pain.

I'll be free from these chains.

Leave me a clue.

Fight by my lonely side.

My secrets I must hide.

You're my friend and I lied.

What will you do?

You do make light from dark.

Illuminate my heart.

It only took a spark,

Now I'm consumed.

This I don't expect.

Now I have nothing left.

Let's give up and forget.

These things are new.

The medallion and the sword

We'll work for you, my lord.

Please say you've kept your word.

Can I trust you?

I cannot make a sound.

But I will stand my ground.

You'll save me, I won't drown.

Now I've found you.

Do I look beautiful?

Please try to be truthful.

I act like such a fool.

You know it too.

I know that you love me.

With this thought I'm set free.

Your love for me I see.

I love you too.

I don't want you to go.

Without you it's so cold.

My whole life I will throw,

Just to save you.

Now that you have come here,

No danger will I fear.

The time is coming near

I must leave you.

Please give me one more chance.

Yes, you may have this dance.

I feel I'm in a trance.

Our love is true.

Her voice was smooth and beautiful and clear and rang out across the land. Wolves howled joyously at the sound of her voice; anything living stopped whatever they were doing just to listen. Her crystal blue eyes closed as her elven song came to an end. When she opened them again, they were not her own; they were almost transparent, like ice, and glazed with sorrow and strife.

She reached out a slender hand and an icy mist emerged from her wrist, hiding her completely from sight. When the mist cleared, the princess was gone.

Voices from the blizzard that began at her disappearance called out in loud, bone-chilling voices, "Keilantra! Keilantra!"

"Keilantra!" A screeching voice broke Keilantra's daydreams as she knelt on the gleaming floor, having just finished scrubbing it thoroughly. "Keilantra!"

Keilantra wasn't a dazzling beauty with gorgeous blond hair and blue eyes, neither was she a princess. Her name wasn't even Keilantra Skyler Jayden Adianca Dianna Kay. It was simply Keilantra Skyler Kay. What was on the gleaming floor of the entrance of Crouch Manor was a slave. Her eyes were not blue, but were a dull dark brown and would be the shade of dark coffee, had there been such thing. Her eyes always showed what she felt and they now were filled with frustration, glowing with depression and weariness.

She was not of normal height, either. She was petite for her age of fifteen. Her tiny hands released the cloth she was using into the wooden bucket and she lifted herself to her tiny feet, covered with a pair of worn-out brown boots. The tips of her little ears were pointed, for she was half elf, but they were covered by her long dark hair, so that she would not be found out and killed. During that time, the humans hated the elves.

The reason for such hatred was simply because they were different. Skilled in weaponry and the likes they were, and humans were jealous of this. When one was found out, they were taken to Kloreth, where Endelia's prince lived, in order to have tests run on them—tests to see where they got their skill, their wisdom, their beauty. In Keilantra's case, beauty was rare. Beauty shone through her eyes, but only when she really felt like there was a chance. Over the years they were dulled and had become weary.

Her pale face had become covered in cuts—fresh ones and some only barely healed, and scabs that were rough and of which scratching could barely be withheld from their bearer. Around the malnourished child were clothes that smelled of cinders and burnt food. Her hair hung like a mat down her back and smelled of kitchen grease. Indeed, beauty was far from visible from this girl.

Her mother was of the name Elizabeth Yasmin Todd and was an adventurous woman of the land of Endelia. She had stumbled upon the Elven Tribe of Asa and fell in love with the tribe leader, Asa Kay, and had a daughter who they named Keilantra, making Keilantra the rightful princess. Keilantra was proud to be just that, too. Never had she had such joy and such enjoyment.

Then, one fateful day, when Keilantra was only eight years old, she was kidnapped, the tribe was plundered through and almost all were massacred. Keilantra was sold as a slave to Lady Brunhilde Crouch and her four spoiled daughters in the tiny village of Ceitha. No one—not one—had discovered her elven identity during the seven years that she slaved there.

The house that she lay in was large and fancily furnished. All had been neatly dusted earlier that morning so everything gleamed or looked perfect. Pillars kept the house standing, even though they were in the way. A spiraling staircase was at the end of the entrance, which was a large room, often used as a room to hold parties. That staircase led up to the living area, where the inhabitants of the house were tutored, where they slept, and where the library was. The doors on the side of the large entrance were not to be entered by anyone except the cook and, occasionally, other slaves who were to do business in there.

"Keilantra!" The voice screeched again. It was that of Lady Brunhilde Crouch's, who never usually woke up during the eighth hour of the morning, so there must've been a problem.

"Si, Señora!" Keilantra called out in a sweet, clear voice, struggling to hold back the husky "Leave my life alone!" that was on the tip of her tongue. Her first language, as an elf, was Spanish, yet she spoke English very fluently. "I am coming!"

She trotted up the spiraling staircase and opened her mistress' door to a luxurious bedroom, filled with all kinds of fancy furniture. The room was dark, for the curtains were closed, so the lady was barely visible. The lady lay, sitting up, in her beautiful double bed. Keilantra had seen the face only too many times and could paint a physical image in her mind. A blonde-haired lady, with blue eyes, stood very tall, screeching at her to do the laundry, scrub the floors, wash the windows, feed and water her animals, and her voice droned on. "You called for me, Señora Crouch?" Keilantra asked.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

"Next!" a commanding voice called, ringing through the palace. The guards drew up a half-naked elf, quivering with fear, in chains bound around his wrists. "What's your skill, oh, fat one?" King Darcy asked, his light brown eyes filled with despite.

"I have none," the man protested.

"Don't lie to the king!" the king stood up threateningly. The man began to withdraw. "What is your name?" The king patted down his very few locks of sandy brown hair.

"Peter."

"Most elves can sing very well. Sing for me!" the king walked toward him and began to circle him.

The elf began to sing, flat notes rising and falling, huskily and horribly.

"You lie! Sing for me! Do it right!" He threw a fist at Peter's face.

Peter began to sing again, with a shaking voice, but magnificent none the less. It sounded almost perfect. The king grinned.

"Father, please!" a voice came from the end of the grand hall. It was Prince Jerrold himself. He walked into the room, his grand purple robes flailing over his shoulders and dragging on the floor. His sandy brown locks looked brilliant and whiskers lightly covered his upper lip. His handsome face was sprinkled slightly with freckles. His light brown eyes looked gentle and filled with compassion. "Let him go."

Spread across his face was a look of intense fear and horror. He walked up to his father and leaned down so his father could whisper into his ear.

"Jerrold, you are forgetting that the elves are our enemies. To be so wise and skilled they must have some sort of witchery. Thus, I intend to find out what it is." His father turned to command the guard. "Cut out his throat. We will use it to run experiments on. We will see what makes these elves such good singers." He turned and sat back in his throne.

Jerrold nearly fell back in such terror as the elf was taken away, to the executioner. How could they do this? It was cruel.

"Next!" Jerrold retreated to his room as the king called out another half-naked elf. A young girl hesitatingly was pulled forward. "What is your name?"

"I am Alexia," she said. She looked toward the ground, trying to look as sorrowful as possible. Perhaps, the king might have pity on her if he saw she was beautiful. She was tall, and very thin. Thin pieces of cloth hid parts of her body and her auburn hair fell over her face, concealing her blue eyes. This only made the king more angry and jealous. Why weren't the women of Kloreth like that? Why weren't they as beautiful?

"What is your skill?"

"I make pottery."

"What have you made?"

"Dishes, teapots, teacups, sculptures, vases..."

"Stop! That's good enough. Remove her hands."

"No! ¡Por favor, no!" she shrieked. "Have mercy on me! ¡Me madre está enfermo y me padre es en guerra! ¡Un recuerdo para ellos de gloria! ¡Un sepulcro para ellos de honor!"

"Enough! Take her away!"

"No! The prophecy is coming! I can feel it!" Alexia yelled at him, struggling to pull free from the guards. "The princess will return! The wizard prophesied it! "Seven years she shall be gone, but after seven years she shall return, stronger, wiser, more beautiful, and more powerful!" She shall rule over all of Endelia, not just her elven tribe! She is coming!"

"Take her away!" She was dragged into the courtyard like the man before her to be tortured unto her death. It was a horrid and pitiful sight.

"Next!"

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Jerrold slammed the door behind him and leaned against it. How horrible! he thought. He closed his eyes. This couldn't be happening. It had been happening for seven years, but he always tried to pretend it was a dream, hoping that when he woke up, there would be peace.

The screaming of the young elf was heard through his window. He walked toward it and opened the curtains carefully to see the deeds of his father. In the courtyard, the young girl was being whipped and beaten hard. She had no hands; only wrists bleeding so vastly that one couldn't even tell they were wrists. She shrieked in such horror that it touched the young man's heart. How could this possibly happen?

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

If Keilantra had seen her through the shadows and darkness, she would've seen her mistress scowling, obviously upset. "I am not in the mood for your Spanish so early in the morning." She wrinkled up her large, freckled nose. "I've been disturbed out of my sleep by a horrid nightmare. I wish for you to call my little darlings into my room. Then run along to the market to fetch some fresh fruit for our buffet breakfast." Keilantra nodded, curtsied, left the room, and then shut the heavy oak door behind her, rolling her eyes.

When Lady Brunhilde was ever upset, only her four precious "darlings" could comfort her. So Keilantra walked down the grand, carpeted hallway to the first room, Jacqueline's. Jacqueline was the youngest of Lady Crouch's four daughters, being fifteen, but a few months older than Keilantra. When Keilantra entered the peach-themed room, Jacqueline was already sitting up in her bed, her lamp on, and reading a book, so Keilantra could easily see her whole face. She wore reading glasses currently, but behind that were simple green eyes and her shoulder-length, curly, sandy brown hair was tied up with a purple ribbon. Other than her utter clumsiness, she was a rather normal human.

She was rather anti-social though. Never had she been caught flirting with a boy or talking with the other young ladies of the village. The second oldest of the sisters quite disliked her, but kept to herself. The reason for this was that Jacqueline could cook, but never shared it with any of her sisters, or her mother, or her friends, or the servants.

"Good morning, Señorita Jacqueline," Keilantra said, coming in and opening the curtains. "Your madre is expecting you in her sleeping quarters."

"My what?" Jacqueline asked in her English accent, looking up from her book and taking off her glasses.

"Your mother," Keilantra smiled. She liked Jacqueline's simplicity; it never ceased to amuse her. More than that she liked her kindness, even though at times she could be grumpy.

"Oh, yes," Jacqueline smiled back. "Thank you, dear." She started to get out of her bed and Keilantra curtsied and left the room.

Unfortunately, not all the ladies' responses were as kind and calm as Jacqueline's. As Keilantra slowly opened the door to Genevieve's room, she whispered, "Señorita Genevieve! Señorita Genevieve! Are you awake or are you still sleeping?" The response was a loud snore that lasted for at least five seconds. Keilantra groaned quietly, for Genna was not one to be good-natured and merciful first thing in the morning. Keilantra never knew what could happen when she woke up this beauty, which smelled like a pig this early.

Genevieve would always gang up on one of the servants with the oldest of the sisters. She enjoyed getting her every wish through them. Every command she had simply to request and it would be done exactly where, when and how she ordered it. But, having fought with the eldest many times on what they want done and by whom, they decided it best to leave each other alone. As for Jacqueline and the second eldest, Genevieve didn't want anything to do with them.

Keilantra took a deep breath before entering the wonderfully decorated room, covered in pink: bright pink curtains, pretty pink patterns embroidered within the heavy duvet which was trimmed with frills, and much more pink furniture including a pink picture frame holding a small portrait of Endelia's prince, Prince Jerrold de Johnson-Smith.

Genevieve was quite a flirt towards any rich boy who she thought was handsome. The prince she had seen but once from a distance on a short visit through Ceitha, the tiny village along the coast of Endelia.

Keilantra lit a tiny flame on a candle so she could see the gorgeous face, snoring away. She was only a year older than Keilantra and her hair was bright blond and her eyes were like limpid pools of blue. In fact, she looked almost exactly like the girl Keilantra dreamed herself to look like. Keilantra withdrew a violin from within a very large pocket of her dirty apron and began to play beautifully, as she had learned for five years of her life, in order to wake Genna up in, hopefully, a good mood, for Genna was fond of violin music and commanded Keilantra to play almost every night.

Genna opened one blue eye, then the other before she groaned loudly and dramatically. Then she started to crawl out of bed to let her feet sink into the wool rug that lay over the hard wooden floor. "What do you want, Keilantra?" she asked, annoyed.

Keilantra shoved her violin back into her pocket, curtsied, and said politely, though also annoyed, "Your madre is expecting your presence in her room."

Genevieve glared at Keilantra and said, "If you cannot speak English properly, then perhaps we should sell you as a slave elsewhere."

"No! No, Señorita! I meant Lady," Keilantra stuttered as she knelt on the floor. "I will not do it again!" Her accent was still strong, though she knew English well. She knew that if she was sent away, she might be sent to a worse home, where they treated slaves with cruelty. She could speak English properly, but it had become a habit to use her Spanish words in her speech.

"Very well," Genna nodded. "I will have mercy." With that, she left the room, followed by Keilantra, who then, letting out a long sigh, proceeded to Gwenevere's room.

Gwenevere was easier to wake up than Genevieve, but harder than Jacqueline. Keilantra knocked softly on the door before hearing a groan say, "Come in!" in a muffled voice. Keilantra entered into a room—a large room—with the least amount of furniture.

Gwenevere would only do something that she was asked to do with the knowledge that she will get something delightful and pleasing to the tastes if she did.

"Mistress," Keilantra said, being careful to not speak Spanish. "Your Mother expects your presence in her room." Gwenevere looked very different compared to her other sisters. Her hair was sandy brown, like Jacqueline, but it was cut short—very short. Her eyes were a calm green and she was of normal height for an eighteen-year-old, but quite chubby. Her nose was as large as her mother's, if not larger.

When Keilantra told her of her mother's request, Gwenevere was silent. Keilantra poked her tongue at her, knowing she wouldn't notice. She always slept in during the morning. Keilantra knew exactly what to say for her to wake up. "I am to prepare a buffet breakfast for you in her bed." In hearing this, Gwenevere jumped out of bed, changed into her gown, washed up, and was out of the room in less than twenty seconds. Keilantra smirked and walked to the door of the next room, belonging to Gwendalyn, the eldest, at twenty years old.

Gwendalyn was the most radiant girl in the whole village. She had straight blond hair and piercing blue eyes. She was very tall and had a small nose. This was disproportional compared to her large lips, which her mother stated looked lovely and tempting. Gwenda was even more of a flirt than Genna was. After all, she was supposed to be married before she was fourteen, and she was now twenty!

Gwenda had the most money out of all her sisters. She never spent even a shilling. She kept it very safe. She wouldn't lose any of it on her life, or her mother's. Gwenda would be the hardest to wake up, for she was always grumpy in the morning and enjoyed commanding Keilantra around.

Keilantra made the door creak open slightly. Then she opened it a little more, then a little more, until it was completely open.

"Señorita," Keilantra whispered. An angry and frustrated groan met her single word as Gwenda sat straight up and whirled around to glare at Keilantra, but rather than glaring, her face had a surprised expression, as if mesmerized, as she gazed deep into Keilantra's glistening eyes. Keilantra at first looked frightened, and was about to fall back, but all was silent until Keilantra looked at the floor and Gwenda shook her head. Then she began to bark orders as usual.

"Open the curtains! Dust my dresser! Clean my room! Fetch my clothes! Help me out! Make my bed!" As if commanded by a spell, Keilantra straightened her back, looked up, and began to speedily obey the orders as she was commanded. Just for the fun of it, Gwendalyn added, "Mop the ceiling and polish my sewing needles!" Keilantra tried her best, but could not get on the ceiling in order to mop it, nor could she polish every single needle. Gwenda laughed as she stood in her same position, her arms crossed. "Stop, Keila. Stop before you hurt yourself!" Keilantra hated being called Keila, but she endured it, for she didn't complain, for fear she might be sent to a worse mistress. But if she could complain, she would have lots to complain about. In her head, she sympathized for herself and imagined herself having the guts to stand up and talk back to anyone in her household. "Now... state your business."

This was not the first time that someone had stopped to gaze into Keilantra's eyes. Keilantra didn't know the reason for this, because she never saw her eyes as beautiful or captivating—simply brown. It had happened even in her elven tribe. It had happened at the marketplace. Why?

Keilantra nodded and repeated her message again. "Your madre would like to have you in her bedroom for a buffet breakfast." Gwendalyn had, of course, finished school, so she knew few Spanish words.

"I will go," she said snootily before marching out of her room. Keilantra wiped the sweat, mixed with soot, from her forehead and left the room also. She began to swiftly step back down the spiraling staircase before stopping right outside the door to hang up her food-splattered, sooty apron and replace it with her muddy, outdoor one. Then she grabbed her black hooded cloak, torn so much that it looked more like a sack being placed over one's head, and ran out the large, finely-decorated double door to get a horse from the stable. As she marched that way, she braided her messy hair into a long braid, so that for a moment in time her ears were visible, then she slipped her hooded cloak over her back and head, so that only her glowing eyes could be seen, for the others were overcast by the hood's shadow.

Keilantra entered the dark, but sweet-scented stable and opened the door wide so that light could pour in. When she saw that Dusty, the gray mare, Blanco, the white stallion, and Meadow, the chestnut filly, weren't in their stalls, she felt disappointment flood through her. Her eyes showed only more frustration. The other servants must have been using them. The bay mare and painted stallion were not to be used for they belonged to the Lord and Lady Crouch. So Keilantra would have to walk the good half-hour's walk to the marketplace.

Keilantra picked up the basket leaning against the stable wall and left. She stepped lightly on the hard stone path, covered in tiny pebbles. The five ladies probably wouldn't get their breakfast until ten, and she would have to pay for the delay.

She picked up her pace. Maybe, if she got there early, she could get the fruit and leave so that she could reach home earlier. She started to jog. Then she started to run, often tripping over her dress. After a long while running, when she saw the marketplace in the distance, she only ran faster. It was an especially tiny marketplace, for Ceitha was a tiny village, but the supplies were many, and some of the shopkeepers were quite friendly.

Keilantra stopped for a breath and began to walk again. She was almost there. She did not know that in this place would be the beginning of an exciting and dangerous adventure, a quest for love, and a decision that would cost her the heartbreak of a lifetime.