MIDNIGHT comes, quiet and calm. I carefully slip out of my hammock – artfully arranged to wake everybody on the floor should I fall out – and narrowly miss tripping over the bulky form of Calson, who has taken it upon himself to sleep beneath my hammock. Retreating to the front of the caravan, I move to where the leftovers of dinner rest on a small square table. I slept through the meal, so naturally I’m entitled to what’s left.

Within the first hour of the journey, I learnt my companion’s names, home towns, and the contents of their pockets. After pilfering a carrot from a cupboard, I took the opportunity to fall asleep. The rattling caravan has finally drawn to a halt, and I find myself munching on a cold leg of chicken while I take a good look at the caravan around me.

A small lamp hangs from the ceiling, emitting a weak, golden glow. I seat myself behind the table on a low, sturdy couch which takes up the front wall. The wall above is filled by a row of small cupboards – an instalment that leaves just enough room for one to sit, but makes getting up and down a little too complicated. Being on the taller side of the scale, this is quite a task. As I eat, I lean forward slightly to avoid hitting my head, the glow of the lantern catching snippets of my long braid and turning it into a dark gold mass.

On the floor through the centre of the caravan, Calson sleeps next to an unassuming, balding man named Darios, who spends most of his time driving the caravan and is apparently on an ‘errand’. Above them, asleep in his hammock, is the young boy, Saron. Opposite, my own hammock hangs empty. Beyond them, the back wall is filled with low cupboards. A few free spaces are graced with small windows, currently covered with paper-thin curtains.

My eyes flick to the sleeping forms which fill the caravan, the patterns of their breathing the only movement beside the flickering lantern. Saron is neatly tucked into his hammock, Calson and Darios sprawled haphazardly over the floor. I remember Calson rather unnecessarily telling me he is joining a company of people travelling from the Palace – a journey which will hopefully take him far away from me. As I turn my eyes away, the light of the lantern catches the glint of something shiny on Calson’s foot. I abandon my chicken for a closer look.

A small gold chain encircles Calson’s ankle. The metal is beautifully fine, and I’m surprised he owns something so delicate. Quickly and methodically, I undo the clasp, pulling the gold loop away without even touching him. Shoving it into my pocket, I make my way back to finish dinner. Retrieving my deck of cards, I slowly shuffle, the flicking of cards strangely calming as I eat. Once the plate is clean, I gather up the deck and slip away to my hammock, leaning back in the fabric. I don’t go to sleep immediately – instead I just lie there, flicking through the cards, thoughts sliding in and out of my head.

~~~~~~~~

THE sun touches the horizon just as the High Palace comes into view. It stands, a majestic shape in the skyline, the tall spires outlined against the setting sun – the home of the leaders of the land, and an apparent ‘Safe Haven’, according to Calson. Situated on tallest of the undulating hills, its grandeur and magnificence are augmented by the landscape. I don’t know much of the place – you can hardly expect an estate of horsemen to give much thought to it – but from what I’ve heard, it’s apparently very beautiful.

Two days is an unbelievable speed for such a distance, and I nearly ask Calson how we achieved it, but I decide not knowing the answer is better than enduring more grins and friendly gestures. Hopefully, on arrival at the Palace, I won’t have to see him again.

A strange calm has settled over us. Saron is fiddling with a reel of string. Darios leans over to me and smiles, feeling conversational.

“How long have you been at the stables?” he asks, with a yawn.

“Huh?”

“How long have you been working for the Horsemaster? He seems to put a lot of trust in you.”

“Six years.”

“Six years? That’s dedication.” Darios hums, seemingly impressed. “You didn’t get bored?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t ever want to get out? See the world? Six years is a long time.”

“Why do you think I’m here?”

He laughs good-naturedly. “Alright. I get it. But what I meant to ask was why didn’t get out earlier?”

I stare at him, and shrug. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he scoffs, somewhat amused, and we fall into silence.

Suddenly, Calson jumps up from the daze he’s in and frantically lifts his foot. His face so pale it’s almost translucent, he shoves a hand down his boot, searching frantically. I cautiously remove the gold chain from my pocket and slide it up my sleeve.

"Where is it? Rane, what did you do?" Calson throws his shock and anger towards me first, spit flying from his mouth. Slowly, carefully, I look up from my cards.

"What did I do?" I retort, instantly defensive. Darios raises an eyebrow, peering intently at us.

"Damn you. You took it. The gold chain."

"What?” I give him an incredulous stare, folding my arms over my chest.

"Hand it over and mind your own business."

"Search me." I hold the deck in one hand and hold my arms up, lifting my chin defiantly towards Calson. He immediately steps forward and shoves his hands into my pockets, quickly emptying them of their contents – a small sack of coins, a handkerchief, a silver ring, and a pencil. Uncertainty begins to take hold of him, and Calson takes a step back, looking warily into my eyes. He snatches the deck from my hand and sifts through it. Still nothing.

“Come on, Rane. Spit it out.” The tendons in his neck are standing out, and he takes an aggressive step forward. Sudden uncertainty hits me, and I falter, breaking his gaze.

“I don’t… have your chain…”

Seething, Calson leaps forward, slapping me hard on the cheek with the palm of his hand. I stumble, biting down hard on my tongue. The bulky form of Darios suddenly shuffles between us, and Calson swears. Darios begins crooning to him, and I get up, holding a hand to my cheek.

“Calson, she’s barely an adult. Let it slide.”

“She stole from me!” Calson protests, trying to push past him.

“You already searched her. No use beating her up.”

“She’s only a labourer! I’ve seen pigs cleaner than she is.”

“The Kings and Queens would think the same of you. Let it slide.”

Calson slowly turns to regard Darios cautiously. Yet the older man stands his ground, and Calson relents.

"Fine then." He slaps my deck down on the table, and I make a dash to snatch my belongings away, scowling as I retreat back to my place on the floor.

By the time Calson’s remotely calmed down, we pull up at the Palace. With a loud creak, the door opens and I take the chance to get a good look outside. I quickly find myself overwhelmed, and would have retreated back to the caravan if it weren’t for Darios slowly pushing me outside.

Despite the increasing darkness, the Palace is brightly lit by the glow of lamplight. Hundreds of street lanterns illuminate the vast, white walls, each individual lantern adorned with metalwork more beautiful than the finest metalwork at the estate. A crick soon forms in my neck as I stretch to see the roof of the Palace, which is almost double the height of the Horsemaster’s castle.

Stable workers are taking control of the caravan, dressed so well that I’m embarrassed to call myself a stable hand any more. I can feel the pristine marble steps becoming dirty just from me looking at them.

As soon as my feet hit the ground, a young woman grabs my arm and tugs me away. She’s dressed in a white and red dress, exhibiting a full skirt and light sleeves, white gloves adorning her slender hands. Her immaculate blonde hair hangs straight down to brush against her slender shoulders. She’s clearly an adult, but her skin is exceptionally smooth and pale, like that of a child’s. Despite the painfully steep heels on her feet, she’s a head shorter than me. An intricate gold brooch adorns her shoulder, and her stance is proud. She seems utterly bored with me and doesn’t meet my gaze.

"Follow me. And keep up." Her voice has a distinct, refined lilt to it – quite different to the hoarse voices of the stable workers. She brushes past me and takes off at a trot towards the Palace. I easily match her with my long strides, noticing how her elegant dress sweeps down  to show her back – where a tattoo-like image is exhibited. It’s a card, the Jack of Diamonds. It seems to be made of a substance of its own, infused in her skin. As I watch, it glows and pulses with a soft, blue light. I stare at it, utterly confused.

We ascend a set of stairs to heavy doors of the Palace, which stretch upwards more than twice my height. The girl spins around to face me, a strained smile on her face. She doesn’t want to be here.

"My name’s Clancy. In case that mattered to you. You don’t care and neither do I. So take an obligatory ‘good luck’ and have fun." Her voice has fallen to a flat monotone, and she sweeps her arm over to me, shoving me towards the doors. They slide open, gliding smoothly over the polished floor.

I smile. She didn’t even notice.

I slip Clancy’s brooch into my pocket and stride into the Palace.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3