She could only dream when she was awake, and could only live while sleeping. So was the fate of the eldest Princess of Bryness, a humble kingdom cut off from the rest of the world on one side by the sea, on the other by mountains. While her sisters preferred to pass their time in the mountains picking berries and meeting their sweethearts, Miriyn walked by the sea. She loved the deafening roar of the waves when they crashed against the rocky coast, and she liked that the scent of the saltwater made her dizzy. The queen often scolded her for letting her hem draw up the salt water as she climbed amongst the rocks. She had lost so many silk slippers and precious jewels to the sea that the King rarely complained when he lost a ship with precious cargo; he preferred to take the opportunity to tell her he may have lost more to the sea through her than the lost ship.

The Princess’ greatest delight was when a foreign ship came into Bryness. It happened very rarely, for the coast was notoriously treacherous and her small kingdom had very little to offer that could not be found across the sea, but anytime she caught sight of sails over the horizon, she hurried back to the palace and dragged her sisters to the top of the highest cliff, and so many ships were greeted by the seven sisters all standing at attention, their silks and velvets billowing in the wind.

Truth be told, many sailors agreed to man ships destined for Bryness just for that fabled sight, for all seven of the king’s daughters were very beautiful and the sight of them standing there, surrounded by a windswept rainbow of finery, was worth the risk of drowning for many of the men. Though they did not know it, they were known as the Seven Sirens of Bryness in several of the foreign kingdoms they traded with, and their beauty was fabled—especially the beauty of the first and eldest sister.

When the beauty of a young woman is so great that it becomes nearly legendary and provokes tales and ballads, young men generally flock to try to woo her. When the young woman in question is a princess, the deluge of brave young princes is usually even greater. However, this was not so for the seven princesses of Bryness, unfortunately for Miriyn. Their father had announced that they would never marry a foreigner, and that Bryness’ royal blood would always be kept pure. Miriyn, at nineteen, was vaguely aware of this proclamation, though not as it pertained to her. It had always been her intention to leave the oppressively small kingdom and expand her life beyond the horizon of the jewel blue sea. Her sisters, on the other hand, took pride in their father’s declaration and were content in the knowledge that their children’s blood would be pure and that the Bryness throne would never be sullied by half-breed rulers. Unfortunately for King Perrian, his youngest six daughters Blanche, Katrine, Nevia, Alta, Analise and Lyne did not matter; it was Miriyn who would be the next Queen, her husband who would be the next King, and her children who would become the rulers after she and her chosen husband passed on to the next world.

Miriyn awoke in the middle of the night, though moonlight streamed in through her open window, reflected off of the sea, and illuminated the room she shared with Rose to daytime brightness. Her sister slept so soundly that Miriyn often wondered if she would ever have noticed if Rose died in her sleep. Nothing ever seemed to bother or worry the girl, though lately she had been thinking an awful lot about a certain young noble gentleman by the name of Petre. Miriyn supposed she would probably marry her.

The thought of marriage took her mind straight back to the course it had been running along in her sleep, though she could not remember what she had dreamed. It left a sour taste in her mouth and drew her to the window, whatever it was. She looked out at the sea and felt as if she were asleep once more; the view made her feel just as she had a few moments earlier when she had been sleeping. Nevertheless, as soon as she groped for what the dream had been, all memory of it vanished and she was left only with the moonlight flickering across the ocean. She glanced over at her sister. She was only a year older than Rose, and Rose was already seriously thinking of marriage. One evening before dinner she had overheard her mother and father speaking of Rose, and they both agreed she was certainly old enough to marry Petre if that was what she wanted. Miriyn felt a pang of guilt; if it hadn’t of been for her, perhaps Rose would be married already. Rose dared not ask their parents, and her parents would not suggest such a thing, until after Miriyn married. She sighed to herself and climbed back into bed, feeling just guilty enough to keep her from falling back asleep straightaway.