Three years had passed since that fateful day, and now at ten years old, I still didn't want to become queen. I kept my fears to myself, acting as if I knew nothing of Seraphina's abdication. Instead, I found solace in honing my skills, especially in swordsmanship.
I had become somewhat spoiled, demanding the best equipment and the harshest training, and no one dared refuse me.
Today, I was in the training hall, sparring with my swordsmanship teacher, Lady Elara Windstrider. Lady Elara was a tall, imposing woman with short, cropped auburn hair and piercing green eyes.
She wore a fitted tunic and trousers, her muscles rippling with each movement. Despite her stern exterior, she had a kind heart, though she rarely showed it during training.
"Isolde, ready yourself," she commanded, her voice as sharp as the blade she wielded.
I nodded, tightening my grip on the hilt of my practice sword. My white hair was tied back into a tight braid, and sweat already dripped down my brow. Lady Elara didn't go easy on me, and I preferred it that way. I needed to be strong, to feel in control.
"Begin!" she shouted, and we clashed swords.
The sound of metal striking metal echoed through the hall, a symphony of battle. I moved swiftly, my small frame a blur of motion. I had become quite skilled over the years, my determination driving me to excel.
I parried Lady Elara's strikes, countering with my own. Despite my progress, she was always one step ahead, her experience and strength unmatched.
"Good, Isolde, but not good enough," she taunted, pushing me back with a powerful swing.
I gritted my teeth, refusing to yield. "I won't give up!"
We continued our bout, my muscles burning with exertion. Lady Elara's strikes were relentless, her movements precise and calculated. Each time I thought I had her, she would twist and turn, evading my blows and countering with her own.
The hall around us seemed to blur, my focus narrowing to the edge of her blade and the glint in her eyes.
"Faster, Isolde, faster!" she barked, her voice a mixture of encouragement and command. I pushed myself harder, feeling the burn in my legs and the strain in my arms. My breathing was ragged, each breath a struggle to draw in more air. The sweat dripped down my face, stinging my eyes, but I couldn't afford to blink.
I managed to land a few hits, but they were glancing blows at best, barely scratching her armor. Each successful strike of mine was met with a counter that left me scrambling to defend. Lady Elara's face remained calm, a mask of concentration and control. She was testing me, pushing me to my limits and beyond.
"Your form is improving," she remarked between strikes, her voice steady despite the exertion. "But you need to anticipate your opponent's moves, not just react."
I nodded, trying to heed her advice even as I fought to stay on my feet. The weight of the sword seemed to increase with each passing moment, my arms trembling with the effort of holding it steady. Yet, there was a fire within me, a determination that refused to be extinguished. I would not let her break me.
A sudden, unexpected move from Lady Elara sent my sword flying from my hand. It clattered to the floor, the sound reverberating in the silent hall. I stumbled back, my breath coming in heavy gasps.
"Yield, Isolde," she commanded, her sword at my throat.
I shook my head, defiant. "No! I want to continue."
She sighed, lowering her sword. "We're finished for today." She handed me a bottle of water, her expression softening slightly. "You did well. Drink and rest."
I took the bottle, my hands trembling. The cool water was a balm to my parched throat, and I drank deeply. As I rested, I replayed the fight in my mind, analyzing each move, each mistake. Lady Elara's words echoed in my ears, a reminder that I still had much to learn.
"Thank you," I said, my voice hoarse. "I will do better next time."
Lady Elara nodded, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I know you will, Isolde. You have the heart of a warrior. Never forget that."
I watched her leave the hall, her presence commanding even in rest. I was exhausted, my body aching from the rigorous training, but my spirit was undaunted. I would rise to the challenge, meet her expectations, and surpass them.
"I shouldn't be like this," I muttered to myself. "Today, I'm supposed to discover my magic. I'm now ten years old, and I'm going to pass the test to know my magic."
Finishing the water, I got up and made my way to my room. My sanctuary had changed drastically over the years. Gone were the childish toys and decor. Instead, my room was now filled with luxurious, expensive furniture.
A grand four-poster bed with silk sheets dominated the space, and an ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling. Velvet drapes framed the tall windows, and a plush carpet covered the floor. I had demanded these changes, expecting my parents to refuse, but they hadn't.
I headed to the en-suite bathroom, taking my time in the shower. The warm water soothed my sore muscles, and I stood there, letting it wash away the grime and stress of training.
Afterward, I wrapped myself in a soft towel and took my time choosing my outfit. I settled on a simple yet elegant dress made of soft, flowing fabric. It was a deep shade of purple, matching my eyes, and had delicate silver embroidery along the hem and neckline.
As I finished getting ready, my father, King Aldric, entered the room. He smiled warmly, his eyes full of love and pride.
"Isolde, you look beautiful," he said, coming toward me with open arms.
I stepped back, shaking my head. "No hugs, Papa. Let's go now."
His smile faltered slightly, but he nodded. "Alright, let's go."
We walked to the castle entry together, the silence between us heavy with unspoken words. A grand carriage awaited us, its design a testament to our kingdom's wealth and craftsmanship.
It was made of polished mahogany, with gold accents and intricate carvings depicting scenes from our kingdom's history. The windows were draped with rich, velvet curtains, and the interior was lined with plush, red velvet seats.
We climbed into the carriage, and I settled into my seat, staring out the window as we began our journey. My father tried to make conversation, asking about my training and my day, but I remained silent, lost in my thoughts.
The landscape passed by in a blur of green fields and distant mountains, but I hardly noticed. My mind was focused on the upcoming test, the moment I would discover my magic.
After what felt like an eternity, we arrived at the place where the test would be conducted. It was a grand hall, built of white marble and adorned with statues and banners. The entrance was flanked by tall columns, and the heavy wooden doors were intricately carved with symbols of magic and power.
We stepped inside, the air cool and filled with a sense of reverence. The hall was vast, with a high ceiling and rows of benches lining the sides. At the far end stood a raised platform, where a man awaited us.
He was tall and slender, with silver hair and deep blue eyes that seemed to hold a wealth of knowledge. He wore robes of deep blue and silver, embroidered with arcane symbols that glowed faintly in the dim light.
"Isolde Blackwell," he intoned, his voice echoing through the hall. "It's time to see your magic."