Drinali clung to her father as he took around the winding hallways of the castle. She noticed the brilliant red, velvet rugs that lined all the stone corridors. She tried to count the golden candelabras that sat every few feet, but lost count after 232. The various servants running here and there in their starch white gown, gawking at the maiden the served, but never saw.

Then there were the tapestries that hung from the topes of the high walls. They depicted romantic scenes of knights is shining armor fighting dragons, rescuing princess that are locked away barely visible towers. Or scenes of faeries, in sparkling gowns, enchanting pumpkin and princes alike. Scenes of evil creatures lurking in dark woods, ripping at the limbs of trees so that they fell to the ground, the birds that lived in them flying away in fear.

There was one particular tapestry that caught Drinali’s eye. It looked different from the others. The colors were more brilliant and they glittered brighter in the dusty light. It showed a man running with a pack of deer. They were flying off a cliff, stretching towards the moon, which sat proudly in a star-studded sky. When Drinali saw it she stalled, but the count pulled her along, moving with even more haste.

She barely was able to look back as the Count then swept her into a room. More tapestries lined the walls and the candelabras sat at the same even spaces. It was large with a giant wooden table stretching away from the entrance. It looked as if it could seat nearly 1000 people. Along the center ran a red cloth, lined with gold and every few feet sat a basket of fruit.

The count noticed Drinali gawking and leaned near her to whisper, “I feel really horrible about always having the fruit out. We never really have guests, and every day the servants have to replace it.”

The count then led Drinali to a seat nearby and set her porridge in front of her. It was still steaming and Drinali, feeling a light headed by all this new information, began to eat quickly. Her father sat beside her and smiled.

“So,” he said, “I suppose you will want to hear all the details about what is going to happen.”

Drinali looked sadly at her father. She wanted desperately to shake her head and say no, but she knew that was not the answer her father wanted to hear. So, she resigned herself to her fate and nodded affirmatively.

“Good. You’ve read Cinderella, correct?”

Drinali nodded again.

“Well, Count Fyrin, the man I was meeting with, and I decided something similar to that would be the best solution. Of course our idea would be more comprehensive.”

A servant bustled in and sat a plate of food before the count. A stack of thinly sliced ham smoked beside a heap of scrambled eggs. A grapefruit, split into two halves, was set next to it.

“What do you mean by more comprehensive?” Drinali asked, confused.

“I mean we would not simply have a ball, but you would be given a month to get to know the suitors. We worked out an itinerary. For how we thought the events would go.”

Drinali was a bit taken aback by this announcement. Suddenly, with the utterance of the word itinerary, the process of marrying had turned cold and impersonal. She shook her head though; she knew it was just the word, itinerary. It had a connotation of sterility to it, and she knew her father meant nothing by it. Yet, despite her knowledge, a pang of fear crept back into her heart.

“Yes, we will have a ball on the first three knights all with three separate groups. From there you will narrow your choices down to about 30 or 40. Then over the next few months, you will spend time getting to know each young man. In that time, we have events planned, jousting tournaments, hunting expeditions, and the like. So what do you think?”

Drinali felt the same uncertainty, but knew instinctively that any voicing of negativity would be ignored. “Yes, father. I suppose that will be fine.”

“Good,” the count smiled the same pained smile again, the one that stopped at his mouth, forgetting about his dark eyes. “The first ball is in two weeks.”

Drinali nearly dropped her spoon to the floor, “Two weeks. Isn’t that a bit soon father?”

Count Naran sighed, “I suppose, but that is the date that is set. As a result, the next few weeks are going to be very busy. You must be measured for quite a few new gowns. The castle will have to be prepared, all the bedding cleaned and shook. We’re going to have to air out your room, so on and so forth.”

“Alright father,” Drinali said reassuringly, “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Within a short time, they both finished their meals and the count stood. He raised his daughter to her feet and led her to the door. “I will show you the rest of the castle now, but before I do there is something you must promise me.”

“Anything father.”

He leaned close to her and his eyes narrowed. With force and urgency, he told her “You must swear never to tell anyone you have not been able to leave your room for the last 11 years. That information you must hide from any man who inquires of it.”

Drinali was perplexed. She could not understand why her father would be asking her to conceal such a major part of her life, “Why father?”

“It is nothing, it is…just something I want you to promise me.”

“Of course,” Drinali said, still confused.

“Good,” the count instantly brightened. “Now I will show you the rest of the castle.”

He led her into each room, telling her about. Drinali was awed when he showed her the library. The books lined every wall all the way to the 50-foot ceilings, their pages bound in supple leather and other hides. Drinali could not wait to spend time in that room, she loved to read and she could see herself spending entire days just going through the ancient tomes.

He showed her the various other bed chambers. Each of them different from the others. They were all swathed in different colors and decorated with furniture that seemed to come from different periods. It gave the room an air of eclecticism. In one room, she saw a bejeweled mirror and her father told her it was supposedly magic, but no one since his great-great uncle Earl had been able to use it, and he had not imparted that knowledge to anyone before his death.

She saw the arboretum, which was filled with exotic plants from tropical regions. One that Drinali found particularly fascinating sat in a back corner. It was blood red, with leaves as big as her torso. The flowers were open to reveal what appeared to be sharp teeth and a servant was feeding it rats.

He showed her the stables with the fine horses, their hides gleaming in the sun. The stable boys ran around screaming and wrestling each other to the ground as she examined the steeds. The head groom approached her and told her about the largest one, a black stallion that paced in the grazing area. He said it had belonged to her mother, and no one since her had ever been able to ride it. The horse looked young although Drinali knew it must have been very old. When she questioned the groom about it he just shrugged and went back to work.

When they reached kitchen Drinali thought she saw an old, stooped woman sitting by a window. She swore she saw the woman turn towards her, looking curiously at her with both her eyes, one blue and one green.