I am running, my feet pounding on the cold stone floor.
I lost it again. I promised I would contain it and I couldn't.
The images flash in my brain. The man mocking me, my anger rising, then he was on the floor, gasping for air while his face contorted with shock and fury. I flinch at the memory of my father's face and I know I'll pay later. The sound of shouting ricochets around the hallways and I increase my pace as the tapestry enters my vision. I pull it back and push the door hidden behind it open to reveal the darkened corridor. The noise fades as I slink down the steps, sweat dripping from my forehead. I reach the end and open another door into another room, sinking down onto the drab chair by the door. I hold up my hands, turning my palms to face me. They are still shimmering slightly, a harsh red glow against my dark skin. I look up and lock eyes with my reflection in the grimy mirror, my eyes are still a dangerous amber colour shining against my white hair and I am reminded once again of the threat I am to my people, to Valeria.
I have always been told I am dangerous, I saw the maids whispering as a child, people stared at me like I was poisonous, touching my hair before recoiling as though they had been burnt. They tutted and warned my mother of what I would become, but she didn't care, she continued to love me as I was. Father was not so forgiving. I knew he hated everything about me, I knew he wished I wasn't here. I reach a hand up against my neck and clasp the gold locket, pain striking me as I remember that fateful day which led to mother's demise.
I shake the memory from my head and take a halting step forward. My eyes have dulled to a neutral grey again and I know I can't hide forever. Back in the main part of the castle the halls are silent and I manage to get into my room without being seen. I race inside and shut the door, pressing my back against it to block anyone who might try to come in. My maid looks up in surprise as the door thuds closed and pity fills her almond eyes as she realises what must have happened.
"Kamala-" she begins, but I cut her off.
"Don't, Frida," I command.
Frida nods silently and comes over to me, withdrawing the key from her pocket and locking the door.
"It won't do anything," I mutter while Frida unbuttons my dress. "My father can get in here in a heartbeat."
Frida sighs. "He just doesn't understand how difficult it is to control it."
I turn around. "Or maybe he doesn't want to understand, Frida. My father would rather believe his advisors over his own daughter. I am just lucky my mother refused to let go of me otherwise I probably wouldn't be here now. He hates me."
Frida doesn't even attempt to protest, she knows it's pointless trying to argue with me. She simply runs the bath, allowing me to sink into the warm water. I close my eyes and try to relax, forget about the past hour. When I get out my eyes have drifted into a soft green shade and I sit still while Frida plaits my hair into thick braids. She has just finished when the door rattles and a deep voice shouts out from the other side. I am snapped from my trance and I have to try hard to keep the fear from turning her eyes purple. Frida races over to the door and I follow slowly while Frida swings it open to allow Father in. His breathing is heavy and his face is red with anger.
"You are excused," he hisses to Frida
She opens her mouth to protest, but my father silences her with a single glare and she shuffles out reluctantly.
"Kamala," Father says, vibrating with fury. "I thought I told you to control yourself."
"I tried," I argue. "Really, Father, I tried my hardest. But that man was infuriating. He kept touching my hair and making the most snide comments. I didn't mean to react, but I couldn't stop it."
Father grabs my shoulders and shakes them. "You stupid girl, of course you could have stopped it. You are seventeen years old, Kamala. Old enough to control your emotions."
I pull away from him and ball my hands into a fist. "I have tried to tell you, Father, but these powers are controlled by my inner emotions. Just because I can refrain from looking frustrated on the surface does not mean I will be able to change them underneath!"
His face contorts in anger. "Don't you dare speak to me like that, Kamala. I have given you countless chances to redeem yourself in society, despite the naturalā¦ blemishes, but almost every time you have embarrassed me."
"It is not my fault," I whisper
"It's always your fault," he hisses. "You can stay inside until I decide you are mature enough to leave these walls."
"But Father-" I exclaim
"But nothing," he interrupts. "And you can forget about supper tonight."
I am still trembling long after he has left. This punishment is not irregular and I know I will be confined to my chambers for many months until Father's anger subsides. I seem to have retained all of his worst qualities, his short temper being the worst of all.
Frida slips back in and begins to get my bed ready. I know that the best way to get through it is with sleep, especially if I will be going to bed with no supper.
I lie down, waiting for sleep to consume me and tugging the blanket up to my shoulders. Frida leaves, turning off the light as she goes, plunging the room into darkness.
Father's words roll around in my brain. "-despite the naturalā¦ blemishes."
I know what he meant by that. I thread my fingers through my hair, the constant reminder that I am different from everyone else. I have never seen anyone else with white hair, it's a sign of powers that were meant to be wiped out long ago, but somehow mine are still here. I have tried to dye my hair, hide it away underneath a hat, but it was always seen. Not that it matters, everyone knows about the dangerous Valerian princess. Rumours drift around everyday and it didn't matter if they were true or not. I am a liability. How can I assume the throne when I hurt everyone? Father is determined to find a husband who will control me, one who will rule in my place while I am hidden away for the safety of others. The very thought of it makes me reel with disgust.
My eyes begin to grow heavy and I fall into a troubled sleep, dreaming of people from long ago, people who's powers were like gifts not curses, people who's hair was as white as snow, people like me.
***
The next day I am confined to my chambers, the rotating guards have been instructed not to let anyone but Frida in or out. Frida tries to cheer me up, but it is futile and eventually she leaves to attend to other duties. I don't blame her. After my dream the night before I have never felt so desperately alone and I sit for hours sketching characters with silky white hair and mystical powers.
When I am too tired to draw anymore I go to the mirror, watching my reflection. My hair has always been such a stark contrast to my other features. Dark skin topped with ivory locks and my ever changing eyes. Currently they are an icy blue shade mimicking my sadness.
"Are you just going to sit there all day?" A voice exclaims and I spin around to see Frida leaning against my wardrobe.
"When did you come in?" I ask
She raises an eyebrow. "Does it matter? You're moping about in a pool of self pity and I won't stand for it. Surely you're better than that, Kammy."
I glare at her and cross my arms. "Please don't call me that, it makes me sound so soft."
Frida smirks. "There she is," she comments fondly. "Come on, you've been excused from all of your lessons or duties so you might as well make the most of it."
"What do you have in mind?"
She cheers and turns a half circle in the air, flinging the closet doors open. "Let's dress up."
"You're kidding, right?"
"Nope," Frida grins and grabs my hands, dragging me over to the wardrobe. "It'll be fun, I promise."
I don't protest and a few minutes later we are prancing about in ridiculously frilly dresses with elaborate hats.
"Why do I have these?" I snigger as we pose in front of the mirror.
She shrugs. "How would I know, I've hardly been here a year."
I stare at her in surprise. "Has it really been less than a year? It feels like forever"
"Is that your way of saying you're sick of me," Frida teases
I nudge her. "Of course not. It just feels like I've known you my whole life."
"Do you remember the day I arrived?" Frida wonders
My eyes widen. "Oh gosh, that day was absolutely horrible."
"Wasn't it?" She murmurs
I nod in response, my mind already drifting back to that day.
It had been horrible.
One of Father's high society friends had convinced him to throw me a party for my seventeenth birthday and it didn't exactly go according to plan. My old maid had made me a stunning dress. Red silk woven in with gold thread, she was about to have a baby and I was it was the last day before she left. A great deal of people had been invited, even though I hadn't met half of them and I had stood for hours, shaking hands and thanking people for coming. The whole situation was growing quite tiresome when a dinner was finally announced. We had all been ushered into the banquet room and once the dessert was finished someone decided to ask for a speech. Public speaking was not a task I was used to and it had all been rather overwhelming. Regardless, I stood up and attempted to speak to the crowd. I had taken classes in public speaking, but that did not stop me from stumbling over my words and I quickly felt heat rise to my cheeks. A whispers rolled around the hall as a spoke and I glanced at my reflection in the window to see a pair of indigo eyes staring back at me. Father took over the speech and I sat back down, blinking back tears of humiliation. We went into the ballroom and I could feel the stares bore into me, but I tilted my chin in defiance not allowing anyone to see how humiliated I was. Numerous people approached me throughout the night, offering a dance and I rejected them all politely until a particularly dashing young man approached. He offered his hand to me and I found myself completely tongue tied as he pulled me onto the floor. We danced for three songs, he was flirty and confident and I struggled to say the right things. After the dancing, he guided me out of the room and down the hall.
"You are a very interesting girl, Princess Kamala," he told me
"Thank you- I think," I had replied, still slightly self conscious.
"I heard you were a bit of a rebel," he said, taking a step toward me
I laughed awkwardly. "I'm not sure that's entirely accurate."
"I think it is," he said in a low voice, narrowing his eyes.
I took a halting step back and bumped into a table, causing the flower vase on it to wobble precariously. "I think it's time to go back," I said decisively
"There's no rush," he whispered, bracing his arm on the wall above me.
I inhaled sharply and my pulse jumped as he leaned closer and pressed his lips against mine. I had never been kissed and as far as first kisses go it was one of the worst possible scenarios I could have possibly imagined. I felt fear and anger mix between me and I pressed my hands firmly against his chest shoving him away as a sharp magenta blast emitted from me. The vase toppled behind me with an almighty smash and he was propelled towards the floor.
"You're as crazy as they said you were," he spluttered
I raised my hands in defence. "Stay away from me!" I screamed as another blast fired at the wall.
It was unlike anything I had seen before. The radiant mix of colours, the feeling of being out of control. I couldn't contain it.
A door banged open and I could hear people approaching. In desperation I looked around for an escape route and miraculously a passageway opened from the wall. A young girl with almond eyes and long jet back hair appeared.
"Quickly!" She hissed, grabbing my arm and pulling me in as the footsteps turned the corner.
We raced through the corridors, another magical spark shooting from me every few seconds, but the girl was unfazed. Somehow we made it to my room and I collapsed on the bed, shaking with shock. Moments later there was a hard knock on the door and father's voice called from the other side. Before I could react the girl had opened the door.
"Hello, your majesty," she said, dropping into a graceful curtsy.
"Is Kamala in there?" Father wondered and I could see his head bobbing around trying to see inside.
"She is," the girl replied, closing the door over slightly. "But she has come down with a terribly sore head and requested not to be disturbed."
Father laughed. "Kamala's probably faking it. She attacked a guest in the hallway a few minutes ago."
The girl shook her head. "That's impossible. Kamala has been here with me for the past fifteen minutes, she hasn't left my side."
I could see father falter and he huffed. "Fine, but tell her that she cannot rejoin the party, even if her headache miraculously recovers."
"Yes, your majesty," The girl agreed, curtsying again before closing the door.
She turned around a devious grin on her face. "That seemed to work."
Her voice had a slight accent, similar to those I had heard from Outer Asianna and I blinked at her in surprise. "Thank you for saving me- both times."
"Don't worry about it," she said
"Just one question," I asked
"What?"
"Who are you?"
She grinned and stuck out her hand. "I'm your new maid. Frida."
I shook her hand. "It's very nice to meet you."