Solar

Natalia watched the morning sun in its young radiance. With the cuff stone around her neck, she lifted a hand, and bent the rays around into the room.

Anthea woke up, bleary. She rummaged in her bag, and pulled out her scarf, wrapping it around her neck.

Anthea was a ministerial princess. Her hair was usually twined in a plait like a crown around her head. But now the plait had come undone, and her fringe was a twisted mess of curly hair among masses of blonde waves.

When she saw her father lying limp over his morning meal, she had him carried into his room, thinking that he was ill.

She had barely returned to her own room to search for cures, when cloaked shadows shifted to reveal someone.

She fled. She went into hiding and sought shelter at a woman's refuge.