Chapter 3 Amarissa
AMARISSA
The enormous open room where we held the Ball of Remembrance glittered like a crown jewel, all gold leaf and crystal chandeliers throwing prismatic light across the marble floor. It was a celebration of wealth while the village below still smelled of burned flesh. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
I stood at the edge of the grand ballroom, watching lords and ladies dance past in ornate gowns and formal suits adorned with ceremonial swords and heirloom jewelry. Each gem that sparkled at a noble’s throat could’ve fed a village family for months.
Servants wove through the crowd, offering trays of wine and rare delicacies.
I recognized Mae’s cousin among them, her eyes carefully downcast. No one had seen Mae since I’d taken her home after the ceremony.
I’d brought coins. Food as well, though neither could replace a stolen son. I would visit her again tomorrow.
I sipped my wine, hating that I was required to wear the mask tonight. It itched. It dug into my skin. And it reminded me of the role I played in death.
My golden gown had a low neckline, and the heavy fabric clung to my waist before flaring to the floor.
My only adornment was a collar with tiny pale blue topazes that matched my eyes.
I’d left my hair loose, cascading down my back with only a few strands pulled away from my face and secured with pins.
“The perfect princess,” Father said softly, appearing beside me and placing a warm hand on my shoulder. “You look remarkably like your mother tonight. Other than a few…deviations, you’ve done well as our Lady of Mercy.”
“Thank you,” I said, the words automatic while my mind raced with thoughts of rebels and stolen children, of Mae’s son somewhere in the darkness beyond the castle walls.
Of the punishment I’d received for what he’d called a betrayal.
It was hard to believe three days had already passed since the ceremony.
A quiet uproar still filled the court. Guards bunched at each gate.
Searches were still being conducted in every village home in the surrounding countryside.
Rumors swirled like autumn leaves, each wilder than the last. Some said the children had sprouted wings and flown away.
Others whispered of tunnels beneath the reformatory, of rebel bases hidden in the mountains to the south.
My father had shared nothing with me beyond what the entire court already knew. A second punishment for my public defiance.
The first still made me flinch if I moved too quickly.
My father himself had whipped my back three times.
“Lord Dannet’s son keeps looking your way.” Father nodded toward a young man with carefully styled brown hair and a sword that appeared too heavy for his slight frame. “His family controls three of the northern provinces. Very advantageous connections.”
“How fortunate that his neck can support the weight of his head while carrying such advantages.” My words came out like barbs, but it was either that or crumble. Sarcasm hurt less than tears.
Father’s laugh held amusement, though his fingers tightened on my shoulder in warning. “You’re developing your sister’s sharp tongue. Perhaps that’s why so many lords find you intimidating.”
“Is that what it is? I thought my height put them off.” I stood nearly as tall as most of the men in the room, a trait inherited from my father rather than my petite mother.
“You underestimate your effect, Amarissa.” His voice dropped, becoming both warm and calculating, the tone he used when persuading his advisors to accept his point of view.
“I’ve been consulting with my council members about suitable matches.
It’s time we secured your future with the right high lord or king. ”
My stomach clenched. “Shouldn’t you be consulting me rather than them?”
“I am consulting you. Right now.” His smile remained fixed, his eyes crinkling at the corners like they always did when he was projecting charm for an audience. “I’m sure the Velmire alliance through Adelaine is progressing well, despite her initial reluctance.”
“You’ve heard from her? How is she? Is he—”
“I have not heard from your sister, but I’m sure I’ll soon receive a dispatch from her new, doting husband.”
My shoulders slumped. “We should’ve heard by now. It’s been five weeks.”
“A match for you with one of the northern kingdoms would give us control of the trade routes on that side of the continent.”
“We already control the trade routes to our east and west.” With water on both sides, it would be hard not to. “Our treaties allow us safe passage through their lands.”
“Not through Syllavar Court.”
“No one enters their wasteland swamp, so does that truly matter?” A drowned land, thick with briars and fog, it was uninhabitable other than for a few feral rebels.
Few had any interest in passing that way.
A quick death, my father once told me. If the rebels don’t get you, the beasts who hunt the land will. “I don’t want to get married yet.”
“Choose someone or I’ll do it for you,” Father growled through his smiling facade.
He wanted to trade me like a prize mare to the highest bidder, but the only man who’d made my pulse race would probably slit my throat given the chance. The irony would be poetic if it wasn’t so pathetic.
Hot, defiant words about choosing my own path rushed up my throat, but I swallowed them down. The slashes across my back were still too fresh to do something that would result in him adding more.
“Perhaps we could discuss potential matches after I’ve had the chance to dance with a few of them?” I asked, struggling to sound pleasant. “It would be a shame to commit before knowing which ones can carry a solid conversation.”
Father’s expression hardened before he masked it with another bland look.
“Remember your place, Amarissa. I allowed your little display of compassion at the ceremony to pass without public consequence, but do not mistake tolerance for approval.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear.
“Obedience is rewarded. Defiance is not.”
It was all I could do not to wince. My back burned as if he’d just taken the lash to it. I’d done what I could to apply soothing balm, but I hadn’t been able to reach the areas in the middle.
And I hadn’t dared ask any of my staff to help. His warning to tell no one about his punishment still rang in my ears.
I thought of Addie, my fierce younger sister with dark curls and a rebellious spirit.
How she’d tried to run away before her departure to Velmire, making it as far as the eastern shore before guards caught her trying to bribe a sailor to take her to one of the islands far out to sea.
Father locked her in her room for the final week before she left, allowing no visitors except those bringing her meals.
I’d snuck into her room, scaling the castle wall to her balcony with wine stolen from the kitchens tucked into a sack I’d slung over my shoulder.
We’d played dice games, drinking until we were silly and singing while sprawled across her bed.
She’d cried that last night, her head in my lap as I stroked her dark curls.
“I’ll write as soon as I can,” she’d promised. “I’ll tell you about everything, even the boring parts.”
But it had been nearly five weeks since she’d left for her new home adjacent to the southern wastelands, and no letter had arrived from her, not even a formal note telling us of her safe arrival. The silence gnawed at my bones.
Father beckoned to someone over my shoulder. “Ah, Commander Thorne. Nice to see you tonight.”
The commander approached with a grace that always reminded me he was more than just another soldier.
Tall, with broad shoulders and close-cropped dark hair peppered with gray at the temples, he moved like water over stone.
His ceremonial uniform was impeccable, though he wore it with the discomfort of a man more at home in training leathers than formal clothing.
“Your Majesty. Princess.” He bowed, his brown eyes meeting mine.
The subtle nod he gave me carried a world of meaning.
He’d been my silent ally during our private training sessions for years, teaching me fighting forms a princess had no business learning.
He’d even let me out of the castle when I had to run free, only ensuring I was armed and sternly telling me when I should return or he’d come looking for me.
This man was more a father to me than my own.
“Any word on the rebels?” Father asked, his voice casual but his posture tense.
“Nothing substantial, Your Majesty. We’ve tripled the patrols in the southern forest, but—” Thorne hesitated, glancing at me.
“The princess is aware of our concerns,” Father said. “Though perhaps this conversation is better continued elsewhere. After all, this is a celebration.” He smiled, all teeth. “We’ll speak later, Commander.”
Thorne bowed again and stepped back, his expression carefully neutral. As Father turned to greet an approaching nobleman, Thorne caught my eye again, and he gave me a barely perceptible shake of his head. No news of Mae’s son, then.
“If you’ll excuse me, Father,” I said. “I should speak with some of our guests.”
He waved me away, already deep in conversation about trade agreements and shipping vessels.
I moved gingerly through the crowd, trying to ignore the way the gown’s fabric rubbed across my welts, nodding as expected while my thoughts churned like a river after a storm.
Ladies complimented my outfit. Lords bent over my hand, their gazes lingering on my figure and the top of my head that would one day wear the Caldrith Court crown.
“Princess Amarissa,” High Lord Alfred said by my left elbow, his smile as practiced as always. “You outshine the torches tonight.”
“Ah, yes, thank you.” I inclined my head. “I trust your family is well?”
“As always, Princess. Would you honor me with a dance? I’ve been practicing specifically in hopes of partnering with you.”