Excerpt From My Book

I have been hard at work creating a solo book that I hope to self-publish soon. While it isn't finished, I can reveal a short excerpt. This is a memory from my main character, Celeste Albus:

It was January 1st and I was nearing seven years old. The clock had struck ten minutes past midnight and I had woken up for a glass of water. I heard laughter as I glided silently down the especially long staircase and creeped to the kitchen. I passed my father’s study and I clearly wasn't as stealthy as I’d hoped because he called out to me.

“Celeste?” he called.

I stopped dead in my tracks, hoping and praying he couldn’t see me and would forget I was there. I closed my eyes and silently counted to ten but I could hear his footsteps reaching the ajar door of the study. The light lit up the dark hallway and illuminated our faces. 

My father looked stressed and distracted and he rubbed his head more often these past couple of days than I had ever seen him. His dark brown eyes, that I didn’t inherit, search mine. 

“Care to explain why you’re awake at this time, young lady?” he rubs his head again.

I feel myself beginning to shrink beneath his blistering gaze but I pull my posture up. 

“I wanted a glass of water,” I defend myself. 

My father sighs, like I’ve insulted him. He always comments on how defensive I am. Says that if I feel no shame, I won’t filter my words or my actions. My mother just says I’m a born fighter. 

Laughter grows louder from the common room. It just annoys my father more. He has dark circles under his eyes and I doubt it’s because of the loud parties occupying every part of the kingdom.

It’s my grandmother.

The Queen, Daphne Corran-Albus, is sick. She has been, for the past couple of months but no one had been amiss. Even now, ignorance plagues the court. Only the immediate family knew and despite my parents calling in favours from every inch of the kingdom and beyond, nothing was helping. Even the Healer Guardians couldn’t stop the sickness, only stall it. 

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” he says. I take that as a sign to grab his hand.

He pushes the doors open and my eyes adjust to the light. Our head chef, Francesco, who is from Rykon, is busy making coffee. I yawn loudly and Francesco registers our presence.

“Your Majesty!” he sweeps into a long and dramatic bow. “What can I do for you on this fine night?”

I giggle and Father manages a small smile. “Francesco, it's the middle of the night. I’m sure my wife and her friends can manage making coffee on their own,”

The chef frowns, “I am more than happy to help, sir,” he assures us.

My father sees no use arguing with him and is about to grab a glass when the chef blocks his path. 

“Anything you want, I give,” his accent giving way. 

“One glass of water,” I pipe up, holding up one finger. “Please,” I quickly add.

Francesco hands it to me with a wink. 

I down it quickly before scurrying to the dishwater and placing it in. I dart back to my father and we leave the head chef back to serving his coffee. 

Father leads me back to his study and closes the door. This is the first time I’m really aware of his study. The chairs are ginormous and his table reaches my neck and I'm just able to peek my head at all the sheets on top. The walls are painted a forest green while the furniture is the colour of tree trunks. I lay a hand on the smooth walls, marvelling at how cold they are. 

“Celeste, take a seat,” Father says, pacing the room. On occasions, he likes to gaze out windows when he’s thinking. There are no windows to be found. 

I place myself down on the chair closest to me and cross my legs, waiting. 

“Who are you?” he asks, taking a seat.

I’m unsure of how to answer. So I don’t. Instead, I wait patiently. 

“Celeste, it’s a simple question,” Father says, leaning forward, hands clasped. “Who are you?”

Still unsure, I say hesitantly, “Celeste Albus,”

“Good. That’s a start,” he nods, leaning back into a more relaxed position. “What are you?”

I answer that almost immediately, with no hesitation in my voice, “The heir,”

Father’s face curls into a smile. I silently take that as a win. “You will be the most powerful person in the kingdom. The most privileged,”

I sit up, wondering where this is going. 

“You will have everything,”

“Like new weapons,” I perk up. I had been begging my father to finally start my sword-fighting lessons but he refused to give me a sword. 

“Yes but not just that. You have food, clothes and a roof above your head. You will have everything at your fingertips Celeste. Not everyone in the kingdom has what you have,”

I wonder why he’s telling me this. In fact, I wonder why he brought me to his study and not tucked me back into bed. “Mama always tells me to mind my own business,” I remind him. 

“Yes that’s true,” Father nods. “But as rulers, it's our job to make everyone’s life a better place. If someone is sick, we have the medicine. If someone needs a home, we find them one,”

“So it's our job to make everyone happy?” I question, uncertainly.

“If we could make everyone happy, we would. But it’s not that simple. When you grow up, you’ll understand how hard it is. But our job is to make sure everyone survives,"