Zora's hand fluttered to the scarred side of her face. What man would desire a freak like her? Inwardly, she cursed Estilda over and over. If only she'd been stronger...

     It was the final straw. Zora knew she would not leave the ballroom with someone on her arm. For a moment, she pondered if getting thrown on the streets would be a better option but dismissed the idea.

     The King's speech bounced around in her head, echoing repeatedly.

     I'll cast you onto the streets, and maybe a swineherd will take pity and take you as his wife. She shuddered, understanding that she would not maintain the slightly better female status in the castle as opposed to being amongst ordinary people.

     Galina bumped Zora's shoulder softly. "Come," she said, "guests are already arriving. We don't want to be kicked out, right?"

     Zora straightened, brushing imaginary doubts off her frock, and smoothed the little crinkles. "You're right," she said brightly.

     The princesses filed into a line, heading for the grand ballroom. They stopped outside outside the doors, waiting to be announced. The King and his Queens were already inside, speaking and drinking with important men from each corner of the continent.

     The doors open, and Zora gaped. Hundreds of people were spread throughout the massive room. The women wore evening dresses of every color in the rainbow whilst the men had dashing, crisp suits.

     Glittering chandeliers hung overhead, the cleanly cut crystals scattering the candlelight into thousands of multicolored fractals that danced over marble, wood, skin, and fabric. The curtains had been pulled away from the windows, letting the ghostly moonlights to shine through. All three moons hung in the sky, watching the world beneath them.

     "The lovely Princess Iskanda!" squeaked the herald. The current eldest princess smiled radiantly, tossing back her flowing brass hair, and waltzed into the ballroom. At the age of twenty-three, she was a mature sight to behold. Although she wasn't the tallest, she had a defined figure and a rather voluptuous chest.

      "The brilliant Cristobella!"

      She was barely twenty-two and was dressed too modestly, with a dress of gray that paled in comparison to Iskanda's. Cristobella spent more time with her nose buried in the pages of books than trying to catch the attention of suitors.

      On and on this went. Zora was impressed with the herald's ability to come up with flattering adjectives when he finally called her name.

     "The desirable Zora!"

     With numb feet, Zora stiffly marched through the doors. She demonstrated none of the grace Iskandra had, nor the attractive shyness Galina had displayed.

     She just simply was.

     Oh, how she wished she could blend into the crowd as easily as Cristobella had! But alas, every eye was fixated upon the velvet mask adorning her face. Their gazes were so shrewd, she wondered if they could see through the material.

     To keep her mind occupied, Zora snagged a flute of champagne from a tray, downing it in a single gulp. The cool liquid trickled down her throat. It was a soothing presence.

     The chatter had risen again, which meant interest in her had lost quickly. Good or bad? Zora couldn't tell.

     Swiftly, she spared a glance at the five thrones lined against the wall: the largest for the King, and two smaller ones on each side for the four Queens. Zora was dismayed to see that one was occupied by Estilda, who had a dreamy look about her. She didn't even notice the wine staining the front of her dress.

     Swallowing hard, Zora averted her gaze. The soft orchestral music in the background was drowned out by the sheer panic in her mind. The question was simple.

     Marry, or be homeless.

     She didn't like her choices. Setting down her glass upon a table, she drifted over to the massive piles of sweets. Her mouth watered, and she was tempted to snatch a plate and sweep up all the contents.

Then her corset seemed to cinch tighter, and she frowned, glancing downward at her belly. It couldn't hurt to have a little...right?

     With a devilish grin, Zora shoved an entire cookie into her mouth and exhaled blissfully. The chocolate -still warm and fresh from the kitchens- melted instantly on her tongue. Savoring the rich flavor, she was about to pop in a handful of candies when a sharp, condescending voice cut in, "If you eat another bite, you're surely going to burst out of that lovely dress of yours."

     Zora's head snapped up, too stunned to wipe away the crumbs lingering on her cheeks. She gazed into the familiar cyan eyes of a woman with flowing golden locks. Even well into her thirties, she was gorgeous.

     "Ekaterlina?" she gaped, thunderstruck. Her sister grimaced, blowing a wisp of hair out of her face.

     "Hello to you, little sister. How's it been, living half-blind and with the guilt of Zhoya?"

     The sounds of giggles and small talk faded into the background. Zora blanked. She couldn't speak, move, or even think. Ekaterlina circled her, a lioness prowling through the night. Her sharp eyes took in every line, every crease. Even after so long, Zora's sister was still coolly calculating and critical.

     Zora's eye couldn't help but drift to where Ekaterlina's hand rested on her belly. A growing, rounding belly. "You're with child?" she questioned, unsure if she truly were pregnant, or had eaten too many chocolates.

     Ekaterlina scoffed. "Do you need two eyes to see properly, Zora? Of course I am." Her hand remained on her stomach, but Zora could see it was clear she held no fondness for the life growing inside.

     "Who did you marry?" Zora asked, slowly inching away. A contemptuous gaze from Ekaterlina froze her in place.

     "A simple duke from the Kingdom of Santica. He's quite a morbid man, but I suppose I've lived comfortably enough since then." She daintily chewed on an apple.

     Zora felt her insides twist into knots. It was obvious that Ekaterlina held no love for her husband. Was that to be her fate as well?

     Her elder sister tilted her water glass back and forth; the liquid inside sloshed dangerously close to the rim. If she tilted her hand a bit further, it would spill onto the front of Zora's dress.

     Zora dared to look up into Ekaterlina's face, more defiant than she'd been twelve years prior. The woman paused, the wine stilling. Then a smirk flashed over her features.

     "You've become braver, sestra. Just be sure not to give a man that face if he asks you to dance." Ekaterlina swept away, a low laugh still bubbling from her lips.

     Zora watched her depart, a furrow creasing her brow. The night was aging quickly, and still, she stood there alone. Time had abandoned her.

     Her eye flicked over to where King Hurfother sat on his throne, wearing a haughty expression. It drifted lower until her gaze rested upon the shimmering goblet clutched in his hand. Beside him, Gregori was proposing a toast with a similar cup. Such dark wine.

     It would be so easy to conceal something within it.

     A grim, crooked smile spread across her painted lips. Zora set down her empty plate.

     Perhaps she could still change her fate tonight.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA
nano is killing me. Slowly. Surely. Help. Here's the first chapter written in like three days. Should have posted sooner but needed to make edits.
Discussion Questions: What do you think Zora is planning? What will be the consequences of her actions?