13. The Vengeful Princess
13
The Vengeful Princess
“ A storia!”
Cyrus’s yell from the interconnected door’s other side woke her up. Astoria grinned and turned her face to the pillow to muffle her giggles. She lay still, pretending not to hear his outrageous call.
“You immature, rebellious woman!” Cyrus was banging on her door now. “Open the door this instant, or I will open it myself!”
Stop pretending, Princess. That banging and yelling could wake even a giant. He will know you are not responding on purpose, Skylar said.
Please don’t ruin my fun, Sky.
“Astoria!”
Astoria rolled her eyes. “What’s the matter, husband?”
“Perhaps you would like to explain how my room turned into a flower nursery overnight?”
She stopped herself from giggling. “A what?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know. I should’ve realized when you wished me to dream of flowers last night that you were up to something!”
“Are flowers that bad?” She tried to keep the amusement out of her voice and failed.
“Are you going to open the door or not? I can show you how bad they are.”
Astoria propped herself on her elbow and exchanged an incredulous look over her shoulder with Skylar. His furry shoulders rolled in a shrug. What was Cyrus’ grudge against flowers? Was there a reason there wasn’t a garden on the palace grounds and not a single flower in sight?
Astoria made sure she was well-covered before calling out, “I’m not planning to get out of bed until the sun is fully up. Why don’t you open it yourself?”
Cyrus grunted something, and the door flung open. He was in his nightshirt and pants, his hair disheveled, his face representing a storm. But the moment his eyes landed on her, he froze, the stormy expression switching to something else, as though he didn’t know what he would see when he entered her room at the first light of dawn.
He stared at her with an unreadable look in his eyes, his gaze trailing down her form from head to toe and back to her face. His stare lingered on her hair, which she had let down to sleep this time.
Astoria swallowed hard at the intensity of his gaze, suddenly feeling exposed, her wits and courage lost. She pulled the blanket higher towards her throat and narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s not gentlemanly of you to stare at a lady when she is in bed.”
Her words seemed to pull him out of whatever daze had befallen him. He narrowed his eyes back. “Not if said lady is my wife,” he snapped. “What are you playing at, Astoria?”
“What happened to calling me Astra ?” she blurted out, and her eyes widened in embarrassment. She rushed to add, “Don’t answer that!”
He raised an eyebrow in surprise, the sharp look fading from his eyes. “How about this question, then? What happened to calling me by my name? You had no problem with my fake one. Is it because you realized I am the Cyrus?”
Astoria scoffed loudly. “Oh, please, I told you, you are not my Emperor. How lame of you to assume such a thing just because I refuse to call you by your name anymore.” She sat up and ran a hand through her hair to make sure it wasn’t a mess.
Cyrus’ eyes followed the motion.
“Can I know the reason you are interrupting my sleep?”
He snapped his gaze to her face, the scowl from earlier taking over, and threw the door wide open. “Do you mind explaining this?” He jerked a hand towards his room.
From where she sat, Astoria didn’t have a complete view into his room other than the walls and one of the windows. But she didn’t need to, since she was the cause of the flowers sprouting from the floor in his room, taking over every available surface, including his bed.
She flashed him a sweet smile. “That, my dear husband, is my punishment for your poor treatment of me.”
Disbelief claimed his face for a moment, and then the dark expression returned. “You dare think you can punish me?”
“Actually, I did. You deserve more than just flowers sprouting all over your room. Why didn’t I think of thorns instead?”
“I command you to get rid of them. Now,” he said slowly, threateningly.
Astoria couldn’t help her teasing smile. “Why, you cannot do that yourself?”
“You know only the caster can undo it!”
“Well, I suppose, you will have to ask nicely .” She shot him a smug grin and lay back on her bed, turning her face to the white canopy above.
“Don’t play with me, Astoria…” he warned.
Her grin only widened. She might be treading a dangerous line, but getting under his skin was actually fun. Moreover, something told her that he wouldn’t harm her despite his warning tone. She didn’t want to count on his word, but she did, almost without realizing it.
“Why not? You can play with me all you like, and I can’t? You are the one who deceived me, kidnapped me, and is holding me in your gilded cage. I have every right to do what I am doing.” She placed a hand on her chest dramatically and turned her gaze to him. “Oh, goodness, don’t tell me you are allergic to flowers! Is that why there’s not a single bloom here?”
“Last warning…”
She snorted sarcastically. “Or what? You will kill me? Lock me up in a—”
“I will move into your room, and you will have to share your bed with me—again.”
Astoria’s eyebrows flew up. Gone was the seriousness on his face. A smug smirk tugged at his lips, and his dark eyes gleamed challengingly at her.
This couldn’t be happening. The whole point of this scheme was to get under his skin, not to give him a chance to get under hers more than he already had.
“What do you say, darling?” His voice took on a teasing note as her response delayed. He lifted a hand in the air and waved it around twice.
The décor of her room was immediately replaced with its original one—black and lavender-grey.
“That’s the best you can do?” She snorted and lifted her hand in the air. Golden magic burst from her fingers and flowed around the room to decorate it back to her taste, but it bounced off the walls and ceiling like an invisible shield was blocking their reach.
Astoria immediately realized what was happening. Anger and resentment burned within her. She gave him a withering glare.
“You thought I didn’t know how to play?” he asked. “Oh, darling, I am a mastermind. It’s about time you realized that.” He winked and sauntered back into his room, closing the door behind him. “My room is ready to be cleared of your garden when you are!”
Astoria glared at the door, her chest rising and falling rapidly from the force of her furious breaths. She hated him.
She hated him.
She hated him.
She hated him!
Princess—
Don’t patronize me, Sky! She fell back onto the bed and squeezed her eyes shut to block out the black and lavender-grey in her room. She grabbed a pillow, pressed it to her face, and screamed into it.
She had been right. Being married to this man had made her a mad woman.
He might have won again, but her games had only just started.
And she still had the upper hand, didn’t she?
His room would remain a garden until the morning came and she was up. Until then, he would have no other choice but to walk around the flowers.
Satisfied with that thought, she let sleep reclaim her.
* * *
Astoria banged on the interconnected door after breakfast. When Cyrus didn’t answer, she assumed he wasn’t there and let herself in.
She released a laugh at the sight that greeted her. She hadn’t been able to examine her work last night after casting the spell, as she had to avoid the risk of being caught red-handed. She’d wanted it to be his morning surprise. And it turns out, this was marvelous payback for someone who despised gardens.
Who else in their right mind wouldn’t plant one on their palace grounds?
Astoria admired her work for a moment, embedding the sight into her memory before she undid the spell. She sighed as the garden disappeared and Cyrus’ room transformed back to its ugliness.
Ugly. Even as she let her eyes wander about in admiration.
The elegance of the room was almost the same as Astoria’s, but the vast, circular balcony caught her breath. The view the balcony provided beckoned her forward, but Astoria snapped back to her senses and remained rooted to the doorway.
His room was ugly . The black and lavender-grey sucked the life out of it.
Wait…
Astoria stepped forward and stretched out her arms. Magic flowed out of her fingertips. She changed every black in his room to leafy green and every lavender-grey to gold.
He deserved it.
Sighing in satisfaction, she stepped back and closed the door. Skylar gaped at her from the bed.
You’re dead set on this, aren’t you?
She smirked at him. The question is, Sky, are you ready for revenge?
His eyes gleamed. You know I am.
Good, then let’s go accomplish our next plan.
Astoria stepped out of her room and walked to the sitting room of their suite, changing the black and lavender-grey on her way. Cyrus was going to burst with fury when he saw this.
There was no one in the hallways as she stepped out of the suite. Not even Spyrah, which was good, because she didn’t want Cyrus to know what she was up to—yet. He would ruin her fun as soon as she started it.
And heavens, no one told her that exacting revenge would be so much fun.
Skylar trailed behind her, complimenting her work. The servants who passed them stared wildly between her and the now-green walls. Otherwise, they didn’t say a word but scrambled away when she turned to them with a sweet smile.
She changed the floors to white, but seeing how it contrasted more starkly with the dirt, she changed them back to black. She didn’t want the maids to have a heavier workload because of her, not when she was planning to win them over.
She hadn’t reached the main parts of the palace when Cyrus’ voice pierced through the air.
“Astoria!”
Astoria turned with a nonchalant look and saw him storming towards her with Rowan. Cyrus’ face resembled a storm like early that morning, but Rowan was on the verge of laughing, his eyes on the tapestries and the tapestry-free walls.
“What is the meaning of this?” Cyrus hissed as soon as he reached her, his eyes narrowed into slits. It was so unfair that even anger didn’t make him look any less attractive.
Astoria recoiled inwardly at the thought. Did she just think he was attractive ?
She had known he was handsome, but attractive? No man who tricked a girl—a princess —into marrying him, kidnapped her, and locked her up in his gilded cage was supposed to look attractive.
Unfortunately for her, he was.
“Do I have to write it on the walls to make the meaning more obvious to you?”
Cyrus lifted his eyes heavenward as though praying for patience, then closed them and ran a hand through his hair. Opening his eyes, he grabbed her wrist and, without a word, dragged her in the direction he came from.
“What are you—get your hands off me!” She tried to pry his hand off her wrist, but his grip might as well have been iron.
“You complained about not having a single bloom around, and you get a garden!” he snapped, sparing her a sharp glance over his shoulder.
Astoria stopped struggling, pondering his words, until he practically shoved her towards one of the windows and pointed an accusing finger at the courtyard below.
Her confused gaze followed it, and her breath caught.
A garden.
There was a garden below them so vast it was bigger than the one back home, spread like a serene oasis.
Astoria couldn’t find her breath. Her mind spun. She couldn’t even move her littlest finger.
The fact that he had made her a garden with magic because she complained about not having a single bloom paralyzed her in shock.
What game was he playing? Why was he doing this?
“And you just had to go around turning my lavender-grey walls green,” Cyrus said, his words now a whisper. “Here I was, trying to convince myself there is nothing more to you than your spunk and stubbornness.”
Astoria’s heart raced. Why was he talking like that ?
“Enjoy your new garden.”
His footsteps left, along with Rowan’s, and faded down the hallway until she could hear them no more.
This wasn’t fair. She wanted him to snap at her, be angry—no, be furious at her, glare at her, and hate her as much as she did him. She wanted him to react to her like he had that morning. She wanted to get under his skin!
Whatever game he was playing this time, she couldn’t let him win.
Astoria walked into the dining hall that day for lunch, to continue her work in front of more of his servants and guards, and a few courtiers, if possible. What could be more humiliating to him than his new wife’s mischief?
Little did she know what awaited her in the dining room would make her jaw drop to the floor.
Astoria stared unblinkingly at the green walls and white floor of the dining room. Even—even the dining table was green!
She couldn’t have done this accidentally just by planning it, right? As far as she knew, she didn’t have that ability. Even if she did, she wouldn’t have turned a dining table green.
“Like what you see, my darling?”
Astoria turned to the voice and saw Cyrus coming to stand at her right with a big smirk on his face.
She wouldn’t let him play her this time.
Astoria smiled sweetly and looped her arm through his. “Of course, my dear . I love it.”
Cyrus was caught off guard for a moment, but he composed himself soon. “I knew you would.”
Behind the smiles, they both knew they were challenging each other. Two could play a game, but only one won in the end.
And that would be her.
The next day, Astoria snuck into the balcony platform of the throne room and hid herself behind the long, black curtain. She watched Cyrus listen to the cases of his people and solve their problems. No better opportunity to humiliate him than right now.
When she was certain he was deeply focused on his subjects, Astoria flicked her wrist and sent a magical thread towards him, maneuvering it out of anyone’s notice. It reached behind him and changed the colour of his black robes to lavender-grey.
Astoria clasped a hand over her mouth in anticipation and watched eagerly.
The two men—a commoner and a nobleman—who stood in front of him with their cases stared openly at Cyrus’ clothes. But neither of them dared to point it out.
Cyrus noticed their stare. He glanced down at himself. Astoria held her breath.
He would burst now, she chanted to herself.
Cyrus chuckled. “Please ignore this, gentlemen. My beautiful wife prefers me in light colours. She says it compliments my black hair and my eyes. I’m such a fortunate man, wouldn’t you agree, to have a wife who cares so much?”
“Indeed, Your Imperial Majesty.” Both men bowed.
Cyrus launched right back into their case. He didn’t care to seek her out in her hiding place, but one of his hands was trying to smother a smile.
Astoria scowled and stepped out of the throne room, but stopped in her tracks as she noticed her gown was no longer its lovely shade of pink. It was black.
She withheld a scream of frustration and cooked up her next scheme.
The next day was Shabbat Eve.
Astoria had no idea what that was until Clara, the Emperor’s head housekeeper, told her it was the Draken empire’s weekly tradition. The seventh day of every week was acknowledged as the day of rest. No one worked that day—not even the servants or the guards. Everyone went home to their families to spend the day with them, and the ones who had no families or whose families were far away stayed at the castle, off their duties.
Astoria was so astonished she hardly believed it. She had never heard anything like this before. No one had a ‘day of rest’ in her kingdom or any of the unconquered ones, and they definitely didn’t give the palace staff and the guards a day off together. That was crazy.
Clara said the decree was issued by Cyrus after he rose to the throne. The people were content about it. With each kingdom Cyrus conquered and built his empire, after he took care of their financial crises, the decree fell on them too.
Astoria raised an eyebrow at the mention of her husband solving the financial crises of the conquered kingdoms and refrained from asking about the countless lives he had taken in order to build his empire. Clara spoke of his invasions with praise, and Astoria was convinced she was under some sort of spell.
No one in their right mind would praise him for his infamous blood wars and invasions.
Clara also said that anyone who forced their servant to work on Shabbat was dealt with justly by the Emperor, saying that he valued the lives of his servants and saw them for who they were. Fellow humans.
Astoria held back a snort and refrained from commenting.
Before sundown that day, the kitchen staff finished preparing the meals for the next day and left the palace. So did the guards. The ones staying at the castle only rose to service if it was absolutely necessary.
Astoria learned that Shabbat started at sundown on the sixth day and ended at sundown on the seventh. She stood on her balcony and watched the sun go down, thinking that this decree was a little absurd.
Then, in the distance, she saw a guard approach a house. A child ran out and jumped into his arms. Their happiness was obvious to Astoria even from a distance.
Perhaps it wasn’t that absurd, after all.
* * *
The day after Shabbat, two days before her coronation, Astoria walked around the throne room, investigating. Servants bustled in and out of the room with the ongoing preparations. They had returned to the palace early that morning.
Young guards and servants stole glances at her while working; she was aware of it without having to look. It had been the same back home too.
Her heartstrings tightened at the thought of home. She reached for the kerchief in her pocket and brought it to her face, inhaling deeply. While Emmett’s gift was supposed to help her with homesickness and missing him, it only increased her longing.
Not a day passed without her wondering about him and her beloved grandfather, as well as Silas, and even Jasper.
Astoria stuffed the kerchief back into her pocket before anyone noticed what she was doing. She rolled her shoulders back, clasped her hands in front of her, and continued her investigation. Sometimes, she paused to insist on helping hang the decorations.
She hadn’t seen Cyrus after running into him in their sitting room that morning. He had greeted her with, “Good morning,” and she had acknowledged him with a nod of her head.
It bothered her a great deal that he hadn’t said a word about the condition of his room. Astoria was half-convinced that he had somehow gone blind to her magic, but she knew that was ridiculous.
He hadn’t even mentioned the hallways she had changed. Instead, he did the same to the rooms Astoria was expected to enter, like the dining room.
In return, she hadn’t stepped into the garden he had made for her. She was tempted to, but she didn’t want to give him a shred of satisfaction. However, she did study it through the windows, telling Skylar to warn her if Cyrus came that way.
The allure of the garden’s beauty was almost irresistible, and she hated Cyrus all the more for it.
“Did Cyrus put you up to this?”
Astoria turned towards the voice and saw Rowan leaning against the doorway she was passing. If he hadn’t spoken up, she would’ve walked past him, lost in her thoughts.
“Lord Rowan, I didn’t see you there!” She greeted him with a friendly smile.
“Oh, goodness,” Rowan muttered, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. “Don’t give me something you don’t give my best friend, Princess. He shouldn’t see you smiling at me like that.” He shook his head, but a mischievous grin played on his lips.
Astoria widened her smile.
He laughed. “You are determined to get under his skin, aren’t you?”
“I’m succeeding, then?”
“Depends on what your definition of success is.” At her baffled look, he continued, “I meant, are you trying to succeed in getting his attention or in chasing him away by annoying the heck out of him?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Get his attention?” Astoria repeated, horrified. She stepped closer to avoid being overheard. “Does any of this look like that to you?”
Rowan tried to shrug nonchalantly, but the twitch of his lips betrayed the mask. “I don’t know, but that’s what is actually happening. You try to push him away, and he finds all your efforts fun and rather… endearing .”
“Endearing?” she parroted in disbelief. “How is annoying someone endearing?”
“I would’ve said Cyrus is insane, but he’s my best friend and I’ve known him for the last six years. He’s never insane. So, if he finds you annoying him endearing, I’m sure he has a reason for it.”
Astoria stared at him in disbelief. Was he defending Cyrus? Of course, he would. She knew Emmett and Jasper would do the same for each other, but she never understood it. How could she? She had never had real friends growing up other than Emmett and Skylar, though her dynamic with her older brother was more sibling-like than one of friendship.
“Would your best friend still find it endearing if I changed the colour of his flag?”
Rowan blinked, still grinning. “What?”
“See for yourself.”Astoria smirked and turned her back to him, facing the bustling throne room and flicking her wrist.
A gust of wind swept through the room at her command, lifting the banners that hung over the walls in a dramatic display. When they fell back against the wall like a soft sigh, the black backdrop was replaced with lavender-grey and the lavender-grey dragon with black.
Astoria dropped her hand and turned back to face Rowan with a smile. He gaped at her, flabbergasted.
“I believe the phrase you are searching for is, ‘ Oh, my goodness’.”
Before Rowan could compose himself, a voice boomed her name from across the room.
“Princess Astoria!”
Astoria pivoted towards the voice and saw one of the courtiers, a man around her father’s age, storming towards her. His face was pinched together in a scowl.
“Oh, no,” Rowan mumbled from behind. “You are in trouble.”
“Well, let’s see how much trouble an Empress-to-be could get into,” she muttered back, smiling at the approaching courtier.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then be a good friend and back me up.”
Rowan muttered something about not understanding women and sighed deeply, but he stepped to her side and called out to the man cheerfully, “Lord Garrett! I assume everything is alright?”
Astoria fought the urge to roll her eyes at his lame inquiry.
“Of course not!” The older man huffed, his glaring eyes on Astoria. “Princess Astoria, I insist you change the banners back!”
“You insist ?” Astoria raised a challenging brow at him and dropped her smile. It was no use holding it up.
“What you did is utterly disrespectful as the Emperor’s wife and the Empress-to-be.”
“ Tsk, tsk, watch your words…” Rowan sing-songed.
“And if I don’t change them, you will do what exactly?”
Lord Garrett sneered at her. Astoria was surprised he would react towards her that way. Did he have some kind of superior position that she wasn’t aware of?
“Then all of Draken will know just how unfit you are to be the Empress,” he said.
Astoria snorted a laugh, but Rowan’s playfulness dropped.
“Hey!” He stepped towards the man, but then, a sharp voice cut through the air.
“Lord Garret, you will not talk to my wife like that.”
Astoria’s amusement drained faster than her breath could hitch.
Footsteps neared her from behind, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up in awareness of his presence. Then, a pair of warm but strong hands clasped her shoulders.
Lord Garrett trembled like a kitten in the rain.
“Apologize.” It was a command.
Despite having called him lots of insults in her faux letter to Emmett, knowing what he was capable of, and being on the receiving end of his anger, this was the first time she had heard him sound so deadly.
The first time he matched up to the Emperor Cyrus from her imagination.
“I—I—I—” the older man stuttered.
“Now.”
Lord Garrett practically bent over in his effort to bow his head. “I beg your pardon, Princess As—”
“Empress Astoria,” Cyrus cut him off, his words as sharp as a sword.
“Empress Astoria,” the man sputtered, still trembling. “I beg your pardon, Empress Astoria.”
Astoria felt slightly bad for the man; she couldn’t help her next words. “You are forgiven, Lord Garrett.”
“Th—thank you, Your Imperial Majesty.”
“Arise,” Cyrus commanded. When Lord Garrett obliged, he raised his voice so everyone in the throne room, who had stopped their work and were watching, could hear him. “No one, I repeat, no one is to treat my wife that way, with any less respect than you give me.”
His hands slid down to her elbow and paused there. In her peripheral view, Astoria saw the side of his face as he tilted his head to look at her. If she craned her neck just slightly, their eyes would meet.
“Now, beloved, what was the matter?” he asked, the previous ire in his voice completely forgotten.
In some other life, he would have been a great actor.
Astoria summoned the actress in her, one not as good as his, and met his gaze. They were intense and gentle at the same time. How was that possible?
She passed on a sweet smile. “I was just redecorating our banners. You know, darling , testing out a change of colour.” She kept the smugness from her eyes as she inclined her head towards the walls.
Cyrus’ eyes followed her direction and blinked. He went still for a moment, and then he smiled, his eyes crinkling adorably at the corners. Wait, adorably?
“You want a change in our banner’s colours?” he asked, meeting her gaze, and continued without her answer, “As you wish, my darling.”