The Junitarian sky turned slowly gray as dawn’s first breath sighed through the trees at the foot of a large cliff. The breeze chased itself up the cliff’s face to burst over the top, stirring the mane and tail of the beautiful golden mare standing there. It bothered not the silent girl sitting on the horse’s back, waiting for the dawn that would bring many drastic changes to her life.
 
     First and foremost, the day heralded the beginning of her sixteenth year, and for that reason, she was very happy. But by Denubian custom, it also marked her wedding day, and her happiness was edged with the bitter taint of dread. Her groom, the Count de Trineo, the largest landowner of all the Royal consultants and a citizen of the nearby town of Beni, was five times her age and had been promised her hand at her birth. She had been assigned a female attendant to guard that her virginity would be intact on her wedding day, a woman who had been with her every second of her life. This attendant, commonly referred to in Benite terms as a watcher-woman, waited patiently at the edge of the trees for the Ceremony of the Goddess to be completed, yet the future ruler of Junitaria was alone on the edge of Widow’s Heights, worried about the coming night. What would she do when she would no longer be allowed to retire to her chamber to spend the night with her watcher-woman, but would be expected to satisfy the lusts of a man well past his prime? Although the Count had always been very kind to her, she worried that she would fail in the one thing she was meant to do in their marriage: produce children.
 
     Rhawneth Kenna, the heir to the Benite throne, had never felt so totally lost.
 
     She gazed at the shadowy land stretched out below her, watching the small flickering of distant torches that marked those who were making their way to the castle for her wedding. By the rites of her birth and marriage, these lands and the people those torches represented would be hers to rule as Queen to Count de Trineo’s King when her father died; yet she felt none of the pride that should have accompanied that thought. It was as if some small voice deep within her whispered that it would never be, that something terrible was going to happen to insure that she would never take her rightful place on the throne. The feeling stayed with her even as the sun reached one glowing arm up into her sight, like a cat stretching one sinewy limb after a long nap. Taking a deep breath, she began the ceremony that would usher in another year.
 
     Reaching down to the pommel of her saddle, she untied the black velvet bag that the High Priestess of the Morning Goddess had given her the night before and reached inside to pull out the first item for the ritual, a heavy golden bracelet. Standing in the saddle, she offered it to the sun and whispered the ancient prayer that welcomed another year of womanhood, then slipped it onto her arm where it jangled against the other two bracelets that resided there, marking her third year of womanhood according to Junitarian tradition. Her eyes grew sad as she realized it would be the last she ever got, for married women didn’t mark the passing of the years. From this day forth, her husband would be the only one who would be allowed to care about her age, and then only if he chose to.
 
     <“Don’t be so sure about the future.”>
 
     The soft voice in her head was that of the Royal Healer, Merin Leteux of the dark-skinned Jauttain, even though she and Merin didn't share the psychic bond that Rhawneth shared with some people in the castle, for Merin and Rhawneth were both gifted with the ability to heal people by concentration. What’s more, the voice was so real - so there - it caused Rhawneth look around, expecting the gray-cloaked figure to come out of the mists that swirled around the clearing. With a slight frown, she realized that the dawn was unusually quiet, but shook off her uneasiness when she saw the impatient look on the watcher-woman’s face and continued with the ceremony, suddenly wanting to just get it over with and get back to the safety of the castle.
     Still frowning, she reached into the bag and brought out the slim white strip of cloth that would mark her as a virginal bride. Offering it to the touch of the Morning Goddess with a prayer for strength when the time came to give herself to her husband, she solemnly tied it around her head with the single embroidered purple flower that marked her as a member of the royal household centered on her forehead. As the watcher-woman came forward, Rhawneth slowly loosened the ties of her cloak and lifted it from her shoulders, revealing the creamy velvet gown beneath, and smoothed the ties of the headband over the golden braid that ran down the center of her back. The watcher-woman took the cloak without a sound, then solemnly turned to begin the long walk back to the castle, not even looking to see if Rhawneth would follow. She was well aware that duty meant everything to the Princess, who would die before dishonoring the Kenna name. With a deep sigh, Rhawneth did just what was expected of her, turning her horse to follow the watcher-woman.
 
     In moments, the silent forest closed in behind the two women, leaving the cliff empty save for the touch of the breeze that rustled through the trees.

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