Fear overwhelmed Simina as she fled through town, her heart pounding with terror. She had just seen the Dark Prince, a figure she had believed to be nothing more than a myth. Now, she knew he was real—the stories weren't just folklore.
Remembering her groceries, she ran back to the sales vendor, grabbed her basket, and continued running home. Simina didn't dare to stop. Maybe the Dark Prince would follow her and try to put a curse on her; just like the book said. Her father was right, she should've listened to him.
All she wanted was to go home to her father, where she knew she'd be safe. She couldn't believe her eyes. The Dark Prince looked exactly like his drawing in that book. It was him. The author must have seen him before; that's where he got the idea. He told her it was true. Why hadn't she believed him?
Simina shouldn't have gotten that book. She regretted picking it up. Shivering, she busted through the door of her house, heaving heavy breaths. She set the basket of groceries on the table and looked wildly around for her father, Gregory. She searched her whole house, but Simina could not find him. Trying to hold it all together, Simina ran outside. She found him outside, in the backyard, chopping wood. Desperate, Simina rushed to him.
"Father!" Simina yelped. Gregory looked up to see a terrified Simina running at him. He dropped the axe and turned to her. Simina flung herself on him, and he caught her.
"Simina, what's wrong? What is the matter?" he asked. She grabbed both of his arms, staring up at him with pale terror on her face.
"I saw him, Father, I saw him! He's real!" Simina squeaked. The backs of her eyes began to burn. Gregory was confused. He didn't know what she was talking about.
"Who, Simina? You saw who?" He thought she'd gone crazy. Simina's voice cracked.
"Him!" she cracked, blinking her eyes. Her vision blurred slightly and she sucked in a rattling breath.
"The Dark Prince, Father! The Dark Prince! He's real, Father, he's real!" Her voice trembled. She watched her father's eyes narrow. Did he believe her?
Then, Simina cried. Tears leaked from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. She buried her face in her father's chest, bawling like a three-year-old. She'd never been so terrified in her life. Confused, her father hugged her to him, petting and stroking her hair. She kept muttering about how she saw someone—the Dark Prince.
"Simina, Simina, stop causing all this fuss. Calm down, my child, it's all right," he spoke soothingly. Gregory knew the Dark Prince wasn't real. He recalled earlier that day how he'd gotten after her about reading it. Perhaps she'd been reading a little too much of it.
He pulled her away slightly to look at her. He wiped her tears. Simina's entire body shook, trembling, and she hiccuped. Her face was flushed red like a cherry from crying.
"Now, Simina, tell me what all this is about, hm?" he asked gently, now that she'd calmed down a bit. Simina nodded and took a deep breath. She licked her lips nervously, her eyes flitting about around the room.
"Well, I'd gone to get the groceries, just like you asked. I was about to go home when a stray puppy came along and pulled the fish out of my basket. I chased it and chased it until I stopped on the outskirts of the village, in the Snowy Hills. The puppy was gone. Ahead, a few feet away, I saw a man. He turned toward me, and I saw his face. He looked just like the book's Dark Prince: I swear to you, Father, I'm telling the truth!"
She looked at her Father to see if he believed her. She could not tell. He looked doubtful but said nothing. Gently, he stroked her hair.
"Simina, I think you've been reading a little too much of that book. It's been a long day; you're tired. Why don't you go to your room and rest, hm?" Gregory suggested. Feeling defeated, she slumped in his arms.
"You go ahead and rest. I'll take care of supper," her father assured. Simina nodded and pulled away. On weak legs, she slouched drearily back into her cabin and shut the front door. She shrugged off her cloak, kicked off her galoshes, and slumped off to her bedroom. Once there, she saw the book, lying overturned and open on the floor, pages bent at the corners.
Heated with rage and anger, Simina picked up the wretched book and threw it across the room with a frustrated yell. It hit the opposite wall and crashed to the floor in a crumpled heap. Then, overcome with fear again, Simina flung herself onto her bed and buried herself under the covers until she fell asleep.
Simina woke to the wonderful and comforting aroma of food cooking. But that's not what woke her. What woke her was the sound of a heavy fist slamming against the front door of her house. Startled, Simina jolted under the covers, tangled in her blankets until she managed to kick them off. Lying flat on her back, head resting on her pillow, she listened closely. Her door was open, and they didn't live in a very large house so she could hear anything happening inside. She heard her father's footsteps across the kitchen to the door, creaking as he opened the wooden slat door.
"Yes? How may I help you?" her father's polite voice asked. Not one but two pairs of boots entered her house, and the door gently closed with a soft click.
"Are you Gregory Gorchev, the father of Simina Gorchev?" an authoritative voice asked. Simina's heart skipped a beat.
"Yes, yes, I am. What is this about?"
"This is a matter concerning your daughter, Simina Gorchev. Is she available now?" another deeper voice asked this time. A dark, uneasy feeling quelled within Simina. Her father was silent for a moment. Simina hoped he wouldn't call her down there. She did not want to go. From the sound of it, they possibly were Lazerian Officials, otherwise known as soldiers who work for the government. The government hardly interfered with citizens' affairs, let alone peasant affairs. What business could they have with her and her father? They've done nothing wrong, unless a bigger problem is going on than what Simina can surmise.
"She is asleep at the moment. I do not wish to disturb her," her father answered. One official sighed heavily.
"All right," the authoritative voice said, the first voice Simina had heard. Her father cleared his throat.
"What business are you talking about?" he asked the two officials.
"Your daughter is twenty, correct?" She assumed her father nodded because, after a brief pause, the official continued.
"When is she going to be married?" the second, deeper voice asked. After the question, there was a long, tense silence that followed. At the word "married," Simina nearly fell out of bed. She wanted to liquefy herself and melt right into the sheets. Married? Why do they care? I won't marry until I feel like it, Simina told herself. Frankly, it's none of their business! Simina hadn't even begun to consider the idea of marriage. And even if she had, who would she marry? There was nobody she was particularly interested in. After a long silence, her father responded.
"She isn't," he said, sounding like he'd forced out the words. The officials made sounds of disapproval.
"She has to be married soon. She has come of age. I trust you have been considering some possible suitors for her?" the first voice questioned. Again, another tense silence. Her father huffed a deep breath.
"No, I haven't," he replied sharply—more sounds of disapproval from the officials.
"You do understand the severity of this situation, Mr. Gorchev, correct?" Simina hated how falsely polite they sounded when speaking to her father.
"Yes," her father answered between gritted teeth. Simina shivered.
"She has to be married soon. If you cannot provide her with a proper suitor, then she will have to go elsewhere," the deep voice said, his tone sharp.
"What do you mean, 'Go elsewhere'?" her father snarled, polite manners now gone, replaced with something ruder.
"She will have to leave your care. She has family elsewhere, yes?" the first Official confirmed. Gregory gathered himself, trying to remain respectful.
"Yes, my sister, she lives on the right side of Lazera with her two daughters," he told them.
"Then, if you can't provide her with a proper suitor, that is where she will be sent," the deep-voiced official said. Her father took a deep breath.
"I'd be more comfortable if Simina chose for herself when and whom she should marry. It shouldn't be up to me, you, or anyone else!" Gregory protested. Simina would have liked to see their faces when her father told them that. Both made incredulous sounds.
"Mr. Gorchev, a man has the authority and dominance to choose what is right for their daughters. Women can't choose for themselves! They don't know what's good for them!" the first official said incredulously.
"Are you saying my daughter doesn't know how to choose what's right for her?" Simina heard her father's voice become threatening.
"How does a woman know what's right for her?" the second official said, laughing.
"Anyway, that's beside the point. The point is, you need to find a suitor by the end of the week or we'll send her away to her aunt and cousins," the first official said, getting back to business.
"And, if she is sent away? What will happen to her there?" Gregory asked, fearing the worst. Either way, his daughter would be taken from him no matter what he did, so it really didn't matter.
"What happens to her then is not in our jurisdiction. The government doesn't rule over the Right Side of Lazera," the first official explained. Simina's brow wrinkled. Then who did? Is the Right Side of Lazera under another ruler? Who? Simina's brain flooded with confusion.
"Anyhow, you have a week. Have a good evening," the first voice said, and Simina listened as their tromping footsteps went to the door. She heard the door open with a creak, and they left with a slam. The house fell into uncomfortable silence. Simina breathed a huge sigh of relief now that they were gone. The insides of her gut coiled with unease, writhing like worrisome snakes.
Simina listened to her father grumble and curse under his breath as he slammed around stuff in the kitchen. A seed of despair planted itself deep inside her being at the thought of marriage. A week. She had a week to find someone to marry, or she'd be sent away to live with her aunt and two cousins. She'd met them once but did not know them well. They weren't even at her mother's funeral.
Simina waited to see if her father would go to her room to get her up and tell her what the officials had said. Dinner smelled about ready. Her father sighed, and she listened as he bustled about the kitchen again in a less angry manner. About now, he was probably dousing the fire in the wood stove and taking the pot filled with fish stew from the stove's surface. Simina could feel the wood stove's heat from the kitchen. He bustled about for a few seconds more, setting the table, and Simina finally heard his footsteps approaching her bedroom.
She quickly rolled to her side and closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. She didn't want her father to think she was worried, and she didn't want him to see her concerned because it would upset him. Gregory stood in Simina's doorway and knocked on her door with a gentle rap. She pretended to be aroused from sleep. She stirred and gazed up at her father, trying to look sleepy-eyed.
"Simina, are you awake? Dinner's ready," he told her in a soft voice. Simina sat, rubbing her eyes. She saw her father's tired, drawn face, with bags under his eyes. Her stomach growled.
"It's ready? Okay, Father, I'll be down." She slid off her bed. Her father nodded and walked away, seeming quite solemn. It hurt Simina's heart to see her father so sad. Sighing, she got up and walked into the kitchen to eat supper with her father.
She sat, facing a bowl of fresh, steaming fish stew that was appealing. A piece of bread sat on a napkin beside her bowl and some orange grass. Quickly, her father said a blessing and they began to eat in silence, the stench of the officials' presence wafting through them, giving them a feeling of staleness. Simina sipped her stew and looked at her father, who hadn't touched his food.
"What's wrong, Father?" Simina asked. Not wanting to worry his daughter, Gregory sighed and shook his head.
"Never you mind, my daughter."
Simina leaned forward and placed a tender hand on his arm in comfort.
"Father, please. What is it?" Simina begged him to tell her. Gregory knew he'd have to tell her sometime and since it concerned her, he thought it fair to explain the situation that arose. With a sigh, he told her.
"Two Lazerian officials were just here..." he explained. Simina already knew, but her father didn't realize she'd listened. The situation seemed much worse after hearing her father tell her. Simina grew weary with her troubles. She did not want to leave her father or be married. Gregory knew this about Simina; he still considered her too young. He was not ready to give up his daughter. She's still so young, why must she be married now? It isn't quite time yet, not quite time.
"But, Father, I don't want to get married," Simina protested. Gregory nodded.
"I know, my child. I know. But you have to; it's the law," he told her miserably. He just didn't know what to do. Simina wanted to cry but knew she shouldn't. Either way, she knew she wouldn't get to stay with him. If she married, she'd have to live with her new husband and probably wouldn't get to see her father very often. And if she chose to go to the right side of Lazera to live with her aunt and cousins, she still wouldn't see him.
Simina succumbed to misery. Just the other day, Simina had been overflowing with joy, like everything on the planet was right. Now, she'd have to make a choice that could possibly change her life forever. Simina's father placed his hand over hers.
"Don't worry anymore, child. You go to sleep now. We'll figure this out," Gregory told his daughter, trying to assure her that it wouldn't be so bad.
Simina finished her stew, washed up before bed, and finally laid her worried and tortured soul to rest for the night. Once alone in the confines of her dark room, she finally allowed herself to cry into her pillow.