There was a moment, only one, when she regretted her decision. It was the time when she thought she saw someone else coming in – someone new. She only had a moment before she was pulled away by a kindly old matron, with warm eyes, who cautioned her that it wasn’t anything of her concern, nothing she had to worry about.

“It’s just a new one, lovey,” said the matron. “Not for your precious eyes to see.”

That didn’t seem to make sense. Why wasn’t it any of her concern? She was their princess – she could have left, ages ago, but she’d stayed, and here she was being hidden from guests?

“What do you mean, not for my eyes,” she asked. Reva was small, looking ten, maybe eleven – and she’d been sheltered. Everything about her was young, innocent, nothing like the reality of her sixteen years. She never noticed – there were no other children for her to play with, things were normal.

The nurse hadn’t answered her question. Instead, she’d just brought Reva down the hall to her bedchambers. This bothered Reva the most – they always locked her in. What reason did they have to lock her in? It was taught, regularly, that there was no one in the palace who would harm her – and she had no intention of leaving. She knew what could happen if she did.

There were things that she didn’t understand everywhere, but she didn’t question it. No one would ever answer her, she had to figure things out on her own. Once, she’d taken it upon herself to find out everything she could about the Castle – but she gave up, and she tried not to wonder anymore.

This newcomer. Right now, she was wondering, why hadn’t they let her seen him? She was the princess! Why couldn’t she see? She’d agreed to stay, not to run away – they needed her. Why wasn’t she important enough?

She’d only caught a quick glimpse of the girl – for it’d definitely been a girl, not even seven years old. She was surrounded by guards. This seemed so familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Of course, she’d seen people being brought in before, but never had they taken her away. It was unfair and she didn’t like it. It gave her the feeling that she’d done something wrong, or was being sheltered.

Sometimes Reva wished she knew more. But she did know that in her room, up in the West Tower, right next to the library and painted pink, covered with tapestries and roses, was the most glorious room she’d yet seen in the castle, and she loved it. She would have said it was the most beautiful room in the world but she’d never been outside the castle, so really she wouldn’t be able to know that for sure.

This one moment, of this one day, when she’d been ushered away, was the first time she ever wished she hadn’t agreed to stay. Then, maybe, she wouldn’t get the sinking feeling every morning that something wasn’t right, the feeling that she’d gotten so used to pushing away. Adventures were only for girls in books, that much she understood.