Raised By Gods

Marcus taps his foot silently. He looks over his shoulder at the doors of the hall, hoping for them to open. There is no movement and the doors remain closed. He turns his head to the Queen. She searches through the line of girls waiting for the judgment of the Matchmaker. Her eyes snap to Marcus, catching his gaze. There is an intense glare in her eyes. He quickly averts his gaze as his eyes fall to the pale cement floor.

The Matchmaker's voice rings through the hall as she calls one of the girls to the front. He wipes the small beads of sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. Why is he nervous? He is not the one who did not show up.

"Relax, she will be here in a minute," Kaz whispers, trying to calm Marcus's nerves. Marcus looks at Kaz with worry clear in his dark brown eyes.

"I hope so, but you never know with her," he says and he looks over his shoulder again. With a sigh, he focuses on the Matchmaker. She better show up.

Coming to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, Amara puts her hands on her knees. Her chest feels tight as she takes in rapid breaths, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. She comes up and places her hands behind her head, taking deep breaths. She is already late, she will have to rest once she is inside. She might have been on time if the Village Hall were closer to the castle. Why does everything have to be so far apart?

With a shake of her head and one more deep breath, she heads up the stairs. A groan escapes her lips as she can already imagine what the Queen is going to say. She finally reaches the top and looks at the massive wooden doors. Two guards are stationed next to the doors.

"Good afternoon," she greets them with a curtsy. They bow in response. She hesitates for a moment. Should she even bother?

Her hands rest on the doors as she thinks this through. No, she cannot miss it again. The Queen had made it very clear that there will be grave consequences if she misses it again. She wished that the hall had a back door. It would have been a lot easier to sneak in.

She gently pushes one of the doors open just wide enough to slip through. On her way to the line of girls, she passes a window. When she sees her reflection, she nearly gives herself a heart attack.

Her light brown hair is disheveled which caused her hair to knot. The Queen cannot see her like this. In her fixation to fix her hair, she bumps into the girl at the back of the line.

"Apologies," Amara mumbles and continues to struggle with her hair. The girl turns to face Amara and she starts to giggle softly.

"You look . . . " the girl looks at her with a hint of amusement. "Like a mess, allow me to help you." Amara removes her hands and the girl starts to fix her hair. Amara looks at the girl as she pulls strands of her hair back into a less messy bun.

She is quite beautiful. Blue eyes and honey-blonde hair, exactly what the Matchmaker is looking for. She will probably be named the fairest maiden in the kingdom.

Amara scans through the group of girls that are already sitting, but she cannot see them properly due to the poor lighting. The girl takes a step back to see how Amara's hair looks. She nods her head in approval.

"Zehra, Lady of Broadburg," the girl curtsies slightly. She flashes a smile at Amara.

"Amara, Princess of . . ." before Amara could finish, Zehra interrupts her.

"Oh my goodness," Zehra says a bit too loud, which earns her a shush from the girl in front of her. "Forgive me." Zehra curtsies properly this time, but Amara pulls her up.

"There is no need for that. Thank you for fixing," Amara gestures to her hair, " this." Zehra giggles and bows her head. She turns to the front to listen to the Matchmaker and realizes that only one girl is left before it is her turn. She turns her head sideways to talk to Amara.

"Why are you late? And why is there mud on your dress?" Zehra whispers and gestures to Amara's dress. Amara looks down and sees that the edge of her dress has a huge brown spot.

"I overslept," Amara whispers loudly as she bends down and tries to get rid of the stain. Zehra frowns and turns to Amara.

"How? Did the servants not wake you?" Amara chuckles.

"Oh, I didn't sleep in the castle," Amara says, struggling with the spot on her dress. Zehra only nods and turns to the front. The Matchmaker calls the girl in front of Zehra. Zehra feels the muscles in her shoulders tense.

Amara shoots up and leans forward, whispering in a voice that imitates the Matchmaker's.

"You are the fairest maiden in the kingdom. You are bewitching and you will have many suitors," Zehra's hands move to cover the blush on her face.

"I wish," Zehra whispers over her shoulder. If the Matchmaker says that, it would be dream come true.

"Trust me, this is not my first time. I know what the Matchmaker is looking for and what she is going to say." Amara pats Zehra's shoulder. Zehra giggles and inhales shakily.

"Zehra, Lady of Broadburg. The daughter of Duke Lanvin and Duchess Iza," a shrill voice calls out. Amara gives her a thumbs up, but Zehra is too focused to look back. Zehra walks with grace and poise while she focuses on her posture.

"Elegance, my dear. And don't slouch," her mother's words echo through her head. She can feel everyone's eyes on her as she makes her way to the front.

When she reaches the Matchmaker, the older woman holds her hands out. Zehra copies the movement. The Matchmaker takes Zehra's hands and looks into her eyes. Zehra starts to feel uncomfortable and struggles to keep her gaze.

Suddenly the Matchmaker puts her hands on Zehra's shoulders with a crooked smile on her face.

"This, ladies and gentlemen, is the fairest maiden in the kingdom. She is graceful and she is quite bewitching. She will have many suitors." Soft murmurs erupt from the crowd. The king taps his scepter on the ground to silence the crowd.

Amara grins. She was right, as usual. The Matchmaker ushers Zehra to the other girls. Zehra can barely contain her excitement as she sits down.

Now that is a hard act to follow. Amara laughs to herself and quickly glances down at her dress. Hopefully, the Queen will not see the stain. There are still whispers in the crowd and Amara feels her heart thumping in her chest.

The hall goes quiet as the Matchmaker calls out her name. Everyone looks back at her and small gasps can be heard in between the Matchmaker's voice announcing Amara's title.

Amara looks at the Queen and sees the shock on her face. She smiles internally, knowing that everyone had expected her not to show up. Amara makes her way over to the Matchmaker, but far less graceful than Zehra. Zehra is exactly the type of girl the Queen would want as the princess.

"Look, she made it." Kaz taps Marcus and points to Amara. Marcus lets out a sigh of relief. He looks at Amara, but when he sees her dress and hair, he can barely control his laughter.

He should have known that if Amara were to show up, she would either be a mess or she would create one. Judging from the look that the Queen is giving her, she is doing both.

When Amara stops in front of the Matchmaker, she looks at the Matchmaker's hands. She shudders at the sight of the old woman's hands. It is so old and withered. The Matchmaker grabs her hands out of frustration. Amara's eyes never leave the Matchmaker's hand.

Amara does not even bother to look into the Matchmaker's eyes. She is aware that she should in order for the Matchmaker to predict her future, but staring into those judging eyes feels like staring into the abyss.

All this, the matchmaking ceremony and social season thing, is utter nonsense. And who gave this woman the power to decide how they should live their life? How does she know who will get a suitor or which suitor will fit the best with which girl?

If it were up to Amara, she would cancel the whole social season to allow the girls and boys to enjoy their youth. They can worry about all this when they are older.

The Matchmaker tries to look into Amara's eyes. The old woman shakes her head in disappointment. She opens her mouth to speak, but she closes it again, looking for the right words.

"You," the Matchmaker takes a deep breath," are not going to find any suitors this season. In fact, I believe that your journey will be a difficult and demanding one." There is a moment of silence before some of the girls snicker. Amara rolls her eyes.

Why does one person's opinion determine her whole future? The longer she participates in this, the more she realizes that it is foolish. That is perhaps why one should not participate in more than two social seasons.

"Thank you, oh wise one." Amara spits out sarcastically as she curtsies. She sits down next to Zehra and Zehra gently squeezes Amara's arm. Amara smiles at her and places her hand over Zehra's hand on her arm.

The king announces that the ceremony is over and reminds everyone of the ball that is going to take place that night. As everyone is piling out of the hall, Amara is pulled back by the queen.

The Queen drags her away from the crowd to a corner of the hall. Amara yanks her arm from the queen's death grip. She prepares herself mentally for what is about to come.

"Look at you! You are a disgrace," the Queen says through her teeth.

"At least I showed up." The Queen scoffs and looks Amara up and down.

"And what do you want? A congratulation and pat on the shoulder?" She hisses and grabs a handful of Amara's hair. "Look at this!" She pushes Amara's head to the side with a forceful push. "We will talk when we get back to the castle" the Queen pushes past Amara.

Amara looks back to the doors and notices that everyone has already left, leaving her alone in the massive hall. She throws her head back and stares up at the ceiling. She looks around the hall.

Everything is pale, except for the endless wooden rows of seats. A cold shiver runs down her spine and she rushes out of the hall. Being in there alone is unsettling. She glances over her shoulder, feeling as if someone is looking at her. She shakes her head and falls in with the crowd as they make their way down the stairs.

Marcus sees Kaz standing between a boy and a girl on the grass. He squints his eyes as they are standing some distance from the stairs. He recognizes the girl instantly. She was named the fairest maiden in the kingdom. He keeps his eyes on her as he walks down the stairs. She deserves the title.

"Marcus!" Kaz calls and Marcus weaves through the people as he hurries down the stairs. When he reaches them, they all bow in unison.

"Marcus, this is my brother, Lord Wylan." Wylan shakes Marcus' hand. Before Kaz can introduce Zehra, Marcus turns to her and takes her hand. He places a kiss on her hand and grins up at her.