My Two-Lane Highway on Substack
by Steph Beth Nickel
Last month I shared why I don’t “stay in my lane” when it comes to writing. Plus, I shared my Day 1 devotional from my manuscript titled Nurture and Inspire Love: A Study of Jesus’s Commands in the Gospel of John. I post these devotionals on Fridays.
Below is chapter 1 of my YA manuscript. I share a chapter each week on Monday.
Rule and Reign
Chapter 1
My grandmother’s voice cuts through the fog of sleep. I sit up and stretch. The thin cover falls and bunches on my lap, but today I don’t mind the chill in the air. Or the too-bright light shining in my eyes from the hallway. Or the fact that the dampness from the stone floor is seeping through my mattress.
A smile spreads across my face. Orphan or not, I finally have a voice. No one will mention my arrival day. But today I’m seventeen and everything has changed. Before my father died, four years ago, he said my mother would want me to acknowledge the day the world became a brighter place—even if no one else did.
“Unita, a princess must learn to rule with a stern hand. There will be no ridiculous grinning when I present you to the council.”
“But, Grandmother—”
She purses her lips and clears her throat.
“My apologies, Council Lead.”
Council Lead Sila Jumalik, Grandmother, dips her chin, but her expression remains harsh. Maybe because her son died too soon and left me in her charge—me, a non-person until today. Still, I have my suspicions she never smiles. She certainly never laughs. I can’t even imagine it—and Father always said I have a remarkable imagination.
“Princess Unita Jumalik, would you kindly take your responsibilities seriously? I expect you in the dining hall in three-quarters of a full measure. Remember to dress appropriately. You will, after all, be meeting His Majesty—”
“Grandfather? I get to meet my grandfather today?”
I’ve never seen Grandmother speechless—or the color of bleached bed linens. Still, the look in her eyes all but bores a hole through my forehead.
Seventeen or not, I guess I’ll have to learn my place. I’ll never earn the elders’ respect and find the answers I’m looking for unless I do.
“Three-quarters of a full measure. Do not be late.” Grandmother turns on her heel, leaves the room, and pulls the door shut behind her.
Darkness wraps around me again. Only the sunlight that pushes through the cracks in the castle wall lights my room. I wash with the frigid water from the basin in the corner. My grandmother sees no need to burn precious wood in the fireplace.
The door creaks as someone pushes it open. A young woman I’ve never seen before—three, maybe four years older than I am—stands in the doorway, her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor in front of her. “You needn’t do that.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. ”I’ve drawn you a bath in your chambers.”
“My . . . my what?”
“Your chambers, Miss. The Princess of Betria can’t bathe and dress here.” She scans the room, scowls, and shakes her head. “It would never do.”
I shrug. “Just let me gather my clothes—”
The girl gasps. “Oh, pardon me, Princess. But . . . Well, Council Lead Jumalik instructed me to burn your clothes.”
“She what?” I collapse onto the only chair in the room. It creaks but, thankfully, doesn’t collapse, something I fear every time I sit in it.
“I’m sorry, Princess, but she was most adamant.”
“Is she ever anything but?”
“Princess?” The girl looks over her shoulder as if expecting my grandmother to appear at any moment.
A brief laugh escapes my lips and I throw both hands over my mouth. The faintest smile crosses the girl’s face.
I grab my threadbare dressing gown. “Well, lead on. We don’t want to keep the council lead waiting.” Or my grandfather.
As we walk down a long, narrow hallway, I wonder where we could be going. I’ve never been allowed this far into the castle. My chamber is—was—on the outer wall, as far removed from the royal chambers as possible.
“This way, Princess. The council lead will have my head if you’re not in the dining hall on time.”
I shudder, wondering if she means this literally. “We can’t have that.” I increase my pace. “And another thing . . .”
“Yes, Princess?”
“That.”
“That what, Princess?”
“My name’s Unita.”
“Yes, you are Her Royal Highness, Unita Jumalik, Princess of Betria. Shall I use your full title? I didn’t mean to offend.”
I reach out to touch her shoulder. She freezes. “I—” I squeeze her shoulder gently. “Please turn around.”
When she does, her eyes are wide and beads of perspiration rim her hairline.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me. Please call me Unita. And I’d like to know your name as well.”
“I . . . I couldn’t do that. It’s forbidden to refer to royalty by their given name. But, of course, you are free to use my name. I’m Marra.”
“Marra . . . Such a beautiful name. But it means bitter. Doesn’t it?”
Marra nods her head. “Yes, Princess.”
“Unita.”
“I’ll try. But only when we’re alone.”
I grin and then shake my head. “I’m going to have to stop that.”
“You have a nice smile, Princess. Unita.” Marra drops her gaze to the floor again. “We really must be going.”
“It’s settled.” We begin to climb a winding stone staircase. “I’ll only smile when my grandmother’s not around, and you call me Unita when there’s no risk someone might overhear.”
“I’d like that.”
We chat for what seems like a long time as we continue the journey to my chambers. What will they be like? Marra stops before two ornately carved doors, then pushes one open and steps to one side. My craziest ideas were nothing compared to the vast, bright, open space that greets me. And it’s so warm!
“This . . . this is where I’m to stay? I have windows. And the grounds . . . They’re so beautiful. I’ve never seen the view from this side of the castle.” I can barely look away from the fields and forests to my left. When I do, I marvel again at the size of the room, which is at least four times larger than the chamber I left behind.
Marra shakes her head.
“Oh . . .” I let out a long sigh. “I didn’t think so. I can’t imagine staying in a chamber this grand.”
“No, Princess. You misunderstand. This is just the sitting area. Over there . . .” Marra points to another massive wooden door. “That’s your bathing chamber, which has access to your sleeping chamber. Over there . . .” She points to an even larger door on the other side of the room. “That’s your strategy chamber.”
“My what?”
“I’ll explain on our way to the dining hall. We must hurry.”
While I’d love to lounge in the large tub filled with steaming water, I know Marra’s right. My grandmother won’t tolerate me being even one measure late.
I’m in a daze as Marra assists me into the underthings and gown my grandmother chose for my first meeting with my grandfather. No! I must begin thinking of him as His Royal Majesty, King Hart Jumalik of Betria.
“The cream color is a beautiful contrast to your skin, Princ—. Unita.”
Marra accompanies me to the end of a long, wide hallway and stops.
“Are you not coming with me?”
Marra shakes her head. “Oh, no! It’s forbidden. Actually, I’m farther from your chambers than I’m supposed to be. For the next two sun-settings, I’m permitted to show you where everything is. After that, I must remain in your chambers, ready to assist you however I can. Occasionally, I will have other responsibilities, but that will be rare.”
“I have a lot to learn. I’ll need your help.”
Marra smiles widely and looks me in the eye. “It will be my honor, Unita.” She whispers my name, which makes me bite my tongue to keep from erupting into laughter.
She turns and goes back the way we came. I hold my head high, throw back my shoulders, and make my way to the far end of the hall. If you would like to see how Unita’s story unfolds, I invite you to join me on Substack. You can subscribe for FREE here: Steph Beth Nickel | Substack
As an editor, Steph Beth Nickel has the honour of coming alongside writers to help them polish their work. As the coauthor of Paralympian Deb Willows’s memoirs, Steph has been blessed to work with this amazing woman. And as a future self-published author, with the Lord’s help, Steph has taken brave steps toward publication.
If you would like more information about her services, you can contact her at stephbethnickelediting@gmail.com.
You’re invited to visit her website: http://stephbethnickeleditor.com/.
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