Sisters

Daniella's pov

Flora's question breaks the silence that had settled between us, ''do you think i would be a good wife.''

I turn to face her, offering a reassuring smile. "You will do just fine," I reply, my voice soft with sincerity. Yet, beneath her question, I sense a hint of uncertainty, a flicker of doubt that belies her outward confidence.

As she returns to sewing her doll's clothes, I seize the opportunity to confide in her, to share the fears and insecurities that have long lingered in the depths of my heart. "You know my reasons for not getting married," I begin tentatively, my gaze fixed on her as I await her response.

Flora nods, her attention still focused on her task. "Because you don't like men and being tied down," she says matter-of-factly, her words tinged with understanding.

"That is one of them," I admit, my voice trailing off as I struggle to articulate the complexities of my feelings. "But part of me is scared of having to live with a stranger."

Flora bursts into laughter at my admission, her laughter contagious as it fills the carriage with its infectious warmth. Even the guard walking alongside our carriage can't help but glance over at the sound of her mirth. I can't help but join in, the tension of our conversation dissipating as laughter overtakes us both.

"Like seriously, imagine just meeting someone and they're already talking about seeing you naked," I continue, trying to stifle my own laughter as I speak. Flora's giggles only intensify, her amusement evident in the sparkle of her eyes.

"You're gonna be a difficult one to love when you get married," she remarks playfully, her fingers deftly working the needle as she returns to her sewing. Memories of our childhood antics flood my mind, and I can't help but smile at the thought of the mischievous adventures we shared.

"Remember when we were kids and you had a crush on one of the farm boys?" Flora asks, her tone teasing yet affectionate.

"We can all agree that Ali was a good-looking boy," I reply, unable to suppress a grin at the memory of our childhood crushes.

Flora chuckles, shaking her head at my assertion. "Handsome, no," she insists, her laughter echoing in the confines of the carriage. "He looked like a ghost, not a drop of melanin in him, and his hair was too straight."

"He was still handsome in my eyes," I protest, though I can't deny the truth in her words. "Plus, he was intelligent."

"Sad he died of dysentery," Flora remarks, her smile tinged with nostalgia. I grab one of the pillows and playfully toss it in her direction, laughter bubbling up within me.

As I return to my book, the memory of Ali lingers in my mind, a bittersweet reminder of the fleeting nature of life in our world. Ali had been more than just a farmhand; he had been a friend, a confidant, and, for a brief moment in time, the object of my youthful infatuation.

Ali had come from a distant land to the north, seeking refuge with us after fleeing some unknown hardship. His pale complexion and straight hair had marked him as a foreigner in our midst, a rarity in a land where most people were blessed with rich melanin and curls that cascaded down their backs.

I think back to the stories Ali had shared of his homeland, a place called Aururia—an empire as vast and diverse as our own, yet far removed from the conflicts that plagued our continent of Agra. In Aururia, diversity was celebrated, and peace reigned supreme under the benevolent rule of a wise and just king.

But even as I reflect on the wonders of Aururia, I am reminded of the divisions that exist within our own empire. Twenty kingdoms vie for power and influence, each fiercely protective of its own interests and unwilling to compromise on matters of governance. The question of a capital city remains unresolved, a testament to the discord that simmers beneath the surface of our society.

I can't help but wonder if Aururia is indeed a better empire than Agra—a place where unity and harmony prevail, where diversity is embraced rather than feared. As our carriage continues its journey across the vast expanse of our land, I find myself longing for a future where peace and prosperity reign supreme, where the divisions that separate us are bridged by understanding and compassion. But for now, such dreams remain but distant whispers on the wind, overshadowed by the harsh realities of life in a world torn apart by strife and discord.

"By the way," Flora interrupts, her voice cutting through the quiet of the carriage as she pulls a book from one of the drawers below her. "Have you read this marriage preparation book?"

I take the book from her outstretched hand and begin to flip through its pages, expecting to find the usual advice on household management and marital expectations. However, the first image that greets me is far more explicit than I anticipated—a naked couple engaged in an intimate embrace.

Ah, the infamous sex education section. Memories of Mrs. Motan's awkward attempts to educate us on matters of marital intimacy flood my mind, accompanied by the stifled laughter and embarrassed glances of my classmates. While some may view it as essential preparation for married life, I've always found the topic to be more amusing than enlightening.

Flora shifts closer to me, her curiosity evident as she leans in to examine the book over my shoulder. "So I heard it hurts the first time," she remarks, her tone tinged with a hint of apprehension. "And some of these positions are guaranteed to get you a baby."

As Flora continues to discuss the various aspects of marital intimacy, I can't help but marvel at the irony of the situation. Here she is, my younger sister, educating me on matters that I've long considered irrelevant to my own life. Yet, despite the awkwardness of our conversation, there's a warmth and familiarity between us that transcends the discomfort of the topic at hand.

I steal a glance at Flora beside me, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the setting sun. Despite her youthful innocence, there's a maturity in her gaze, a wisdom that belies her years.

Lost in Flora's animated discussion about the book, I barely register the carriage coming to a halt until one of the coachmen approaches us with news of our overnight stay. 

"The whole night?" I echo in surprise, turning to Flora, who meets my gaze with a mischievous smile.

"We aren't in a hurry to go anywhere," she replies, her tone laced with a hint of excitement. "And besides, I don't think it would be exciting to reach Cai early."

"But you said three days," I protest, feeling a flicker of unease at the prospect of deviating from our planned itinerary.

"Didn't you want to explore the continent more?" Flora counters, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "And the best way to enjoy it is by experiencing both the day and night. This town is quiet during the day, but it comes alive at night with its vibrant nightlife."

Flora's words stir something within me, igniting a spark of curiosity that I've long suppressed. Despite my knowledge of neighboring kingdoms and their customs, I've never ventured beyond the safety of their capital walls, bound by the constraints of my royal status and the watchful eyes of my father.

But with Flora by my side, the possibility of exploration beckons like a siren's call, tempting me to break free from the shackles of duty and expectation. And as the camp is set and the night descends around us, I can't help but feel a sense of exhilaration at the prospect of embarking on this impromptu adventure with my rebellious sister by my side.

Flora and I sit by the sea cliff, savoring the tranquility of the evening as the rest of our entourage busies themselves with setting up camp. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore provides a soothing backdrop to our conversation.

"This reminds me of Kano Palace," Flora muses, her voice tinged with nostalgia. Kano Palace, where we spent the warm summer months with our mothers, was a sanctuary of peace and tranquility amidst the hustle and bustle of royal life.

"I loved that place," I reply, a wistful smile playing at my lips as I take a sip of my tea. The memories of carefree days spent surfing in the ocean and exploring the palace gardens flood my mind, filling me with a sense of longing for simpler times.

We lapse into a comfortable silence, each lost in our own thoughts, until Miss Motan approaches us with a graceful bow. Flora and I exchange polite greetings as she settles herself into a chair, her presence a reminder of the responsibilities that accompany our royal status.

"Hope your journey wasn't too rough," I inquire, eager to engage in polite conversation despite my growing desire for solitude.

"It was smooth," Flora responds, her voice laced with a hint of weariness that belies her youthful enthusiasm.

"Quite refreshing," I interject, offering a polite smile as I attempt to mask my own fatigue.

"Good to hear," Miss Motan replies, pouring herself a cup of tea as she settles into her seat. "I also found it refreshing and productive. I took the opportunity to look through some potential suitors."

The mention of suitors elicits a groan from me as I push myself to my feet, suddenly feeling the need to escape the confines of polite conversation. "Dear heaven," I mutter under my breath, my desire for a bath outweighing any desire for further discussion.

With a quick excuse, I bid Flora and Miss Motan goodnight before making my way towards the makeshift bathing area, eager to wash away the weariness of the day and find solace in the soothing embrace of warm water.