2. Aurelia
The hard sound of the slap reverberated throughout the meeting hall, followed by a stunned silence.
Pain exploded in my head and traveled far down my neck. I was forced to grip the edge of the table. The polished slickness of the surface almost caused me to lose my balance and crumple to the floor.
All eyes were on me, the heaviness of their weight intensifying the pain. All of them waiting to see if the beloved yet spoiled princess would burst into tears at her daddy’s firm hand.
I never did, but that didn’t stop them from creaming their pants at the possibility.
What was it with men loving to see a woman in tears and knocked down a peg?
Blood filled my mouth for a split second before the wound disappeared.
He didn’t hold back. My mind was swirling with bitter, violent thoughts as I forced my gaze to his.
He was standing, his sudden movement pushing his obnoxiously decorative chair back. His eyes were bright red, his fangs bared. Both my stepmother and sister were in their places behind him, standing and looking at me with wicked grins they tried so desperately to hide behind their hands.
“What you meant to say was that you will be honored to receive Prince Icas today to accept his engagement,” my father said, his voice low but not at all hiding his anger. “If I hear one more disgraceful utterance like that again, I will have you flogged, and your blood privileges revoked for a week.”
There was a small, feminine gasp from my side. My handmaiden, Melia, rested her palm against my back. A small, comforting gesture that brought me nothing but more contempt.
Too snarky even for him, huh?
He wants me to go mad. That was the meaning of his punishment. He wanted to show that even his own daughter, the princess, would not be able to escape his control.
And disgrace the Castle bloodline with his disease? The single sentence that I uttered. I tried to keep it inside. Tried to lock it in the small cage in the recesses of my mind.
But then, when they started talking about the money they could make from me once the prince had claimed my body and forced a blood bond…I couldn’t keep it in. I was angry.
I had done nothing but be the perfect daughter to Father. I was his replica in almost every sense. I was as cold as he was. As cruel. I was there by his side for every moment.
And he was willing to sell me like a broodmare.
“Just a joke, Father,” I said, bowing my head to him. “Of course I will be honored to receive Prince Icas.”
I forced my hands to grab my dress, trying desperately to hide how they shook with anger.
“Receive, marry, bed, and produce an heir worthy of uniting our families,” he added, taking a step toward me. His grubby finger found my chin and forced me to look up at him. He was calmer then, but the bloodlust was still raging in his eyes. “It is what you were born to do, don’t forget that.”
I was born to rule, just like my mother, until her untimely death.
“How could I possibly forget?” I made my voice as sweet as I could muster. I was asking for a repeat of the slap, we both knew it.
Krae, help me. And maybe for the first time, the goddess actually heard me.
His eyes searched my face, then slowly the normal blue hues started to appear.
He nodded and righted himself again before sitting on his throne. And just like that, it was over. The meeting with the various court members was back in action, all of them laughing as if it never happened.
I turned to face the group with my hands folded together in front of me. The ache in my cheek was slowly fading along with the pounding in my head. Melia was by my side, her hand holding the back of my dress.
Her actions annoyed me only because of how useful they were at grounding me while the men of the court’s eyes roamed over my swollen face.
I wish she would just fucking disappear. Just because my stepmother had assigned her to me for half my life didn’t mean I had to like her. And right then, all I wanted to do was finally give them all a piece of my mind.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to rage. To flip the table in front of me. To tear my fangs into the necks of the people who dared laugh at me.
It had been building up for years, and each time, I chose to lock it behind the golden cage in the back of my mind. The same cage that was starting to rust and bend in places as the emotions violently crashed against the bars that held them in.
But for one more meeting, at least, I had been able to keep them back. Been able to stand there next to my father as the hours passed and the sun set. I passed the time by imagining the sun being able to burn me alive like it was rumored to do to our ancestors.
None of my wishes came true that day. I sat through it. Smiled when I needed to. And left when I was dismissed.
Melia tried to follow me as I left behind my father and stepmother, but I gave her a glare, warning her that if she even dared, she would be paying the price.
I couldn’t kill her, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t make her life miserable.
“The previous queen would have loved to see this day,” my stepmother said from beside my father, her charcoal-lined eyes meeting mine as she shot a smirk in my direction.
She didn’t even try to hide her slight. Her spawn, who was trailing a bit behind me down the hall, let out a chuckle.
I hastened my steps, trying to close the space between us.
“She would, but I have you standing in her place, don’t I?” I asked in a sickly-sweet tone and quickly stepped on the hem of her dress that had been trailing behind her.
She hadn’t caught onto my plan fast enough to stop herself from jerking forward and almost losing her balance.
Father didn’t even attempt to catch her. Merely turned his head to the side, watching as she struggled to right herself.
“Aw, so shocked by my declaration it caused you to misstep?” I asked and pushed past her as she stayed frozen in the hall. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Aurelia,” Father warned, but didn’t pause to help his wife. Her spawn was by her side in seconds, running to grab onto her elbow and help her stand up straight.
Can’t even stand without help. Surprising Father kept you around so long.
“Excuse me, Father,” I said, bending my head and sending him a smile. “Merely just excited to bond with your wife?—”
“Your mother,” he corrected without so much as a blink.
“Right,” I said through gritted teeth and kept pace with him until we got to the hallway that led to the east wing of the house and my room. “I’ll retire for the night. Looking forward to the engagement talks.”
He let out a grunt but gave me no other indication of his approval. When his back was turned to me, I waved to the evil duo as they walked past.
“Watch your fucking mouth next time,” I muttered under my breath.
Her spawn looked at me with shock while her mother just smirked.
“You really don’t know what you’re in for, do you?” she asked, her eyes trailing my body as if assessing me. “You’re just a tool for breeding, and somehow you’ve convinced yourself you’re still important?”
All the anger from before slammed into my body like a tidal wave. I clenched my fists, willing them to stay by my sides regardless of how red my vision turned.
She let out a light laugh and continued on her way after Father. Her spawn whispered something under her breath. Something that had me losing my entire rational thought.
“Broodmare.”
Crystal shattered against the shimmery decorated wallpaper in my bedroom, the sharp pieces scattering across the room, light reflecting off them and shining against the ceiling.
A guttural scream ripped from my throat. I grabbed everything and anything I could throw. Carts. Perfume. Makeup. Chairs. Throws. Paintings.
All of it met the wall with a hard thud, and whatever didn’t shatter satisfyingly enough, I made sure to tear it apart myself.
“Fuck you,” I growled, tearing a painting of the rows of roses in front of the palace. “Want to sacrifice me? And for what?”
Selling me off would only hurt Father, wouldn’t it?
What was it that Prince Icas had that Father wanted so badly that he would sell me?
I had done everything I could since Mother died to get on his good side. I hadn’t said anything when he married that bitch mere months after Mother died. Nor did I say anything about her baggage.
I sat there and took all their abuse and attempts to steal the power for themselves.
I was a good little princess. One who was fierce enough to remind my father that I was more similar to him than I ever was to Mother.
Even if I were disposable enough to sell off, why him?
Prince Icas’s father was the head of a family, but it was nowhere near our size. Had nowhere near our power.
The only thing that they had going for them was their wealth.
I let out another snarl. The room was a mess. I had destroyed almost everything in my path. Almost.
My pristine four-poster bed with a mountain of fluffy blankets on top caught my eye. I headed straight for it, imagining the entire time that the fabric belonged to the dress of my vile stepmother.
I ripped into the silk sheets with my fangs and claws, imagining that the feathers spilling out were the same color as her insides. I hated her. Hated them. Father was the person who allowed all this to happen, but they were the ones who inflicted the years of pain. Father’s slaps here and there held nothing to what they had done.
There was a pitcher of bright red blood next to the bed, and one sniff told me it was alcohol-infused. I poured it out over the bedding, reveling in the way the color stained the white sheets, forever ruining them.
“Do you bleed like this?” I mused, still imagining my stepmother lying on the bed instead.
I let out a growl. The anger still fresh and threatening to tear apart my insides. I grabbed the pitcher and turned, ready to slam it into the reinforced window, when my eyes met two black, needy ones.
In a golden cage, much like the one I imagined myself in, sat the only true friend I had in this palace. I dropped the pitcher onto the bed, forcing myself away from the mess.
Something else tugged at my chest. Something more painful. Something that felt similar to the time I found my mother dying on the stone-cold ground, gasping for breath, and holding her hand out for me to save her.
The gray and orange bird inside chirped as I jostled its cage, but it didn’t attempt to bat its wings at me. It had seen one too many of these tantrums, but it was not out of its care for me that it stayed regardless.
There was no doubt in my mind that, if given the chance, it would fly as far from here as possible and not once look back. That’s why I had its wings clipped long ago. An awful and torturous procedure, but I did what I had to to keep her with me.
We were so similar, the caged bird and me. It had learned how to remain calm in the face of a much more powerful, threatening source. Its non-reaction only served to save it.
But it was okay. I understood.
“I’ll have the cleaning staff fix it later,” I promised her, as if the creature in its once tidy cage gave two shits about what the room looked like.
I took a deep breath, centering myself and looking at the anger deep inside me. It would remain there until I needed it the most. No matter what Father or that bitch tried, they wouldn’t take it from me. Because no matter how much they tried, no matter how hard they beat me, the rage would still be there. And as long as I had that rage, I had me.