Chapter 2 #2
Mustafa, the youngest brother at twenty-one, was too busy jotting down a note on a piece of paper beside his breakfast plate to chip into the conversation.
‘But why?’ she had asked, incredulous.
Shahmir looked confused. ‘Because that is what princesses do, Sonya,’ he said. He was nine years older than she, but at that moment, he spoke to her as if he was many decades wiser. ‘They get married.’
Well. Not this one.
‘I’ve heard the princess is plain,’ the bearded man said now, pulling Sonya’s attention back to the present.
‘And she has no magic,’ the thin man added. ‘She isn’t the best catch, is she?’
They were being so casually cruel, snickering into their stew, and Sonya’s heart sank. But what else could she have expected of the real world? This wasn’t her father’s castle, where the staff were paid to be kind to her. These people did not know the very princess they insulted sat beside them.
‘At least the princes are involved,’ the man with the bun said. ‘The princess must think she’s too good to leave her castle.’
‘I’m sure she’s worried about ruinin’ her shoes,’ the bearded man teased.
Sonya frowned. They weren’t being fair—they didn’t even know her! But how could they? She was so fragile, often getting sick, and as such, the king kept her safe in the castle.
She stayed up in her high tower, doing nothing. Safe—but bored and alone.
‘Hopefully her marriage will benefit us all,’ the thin man said.
‘I’ve got my hopes on the Duke of Granger’s son.
We could do with more trade routes opening up.
’ Granger was the province north of Crownley, with the most farmlands.
While it was small, they produced a great deal of income, and as such, were very wealthy.
There were three suitors coming for the tournament, each picked by her brothers: the son of a duke, the son of a marquess, and an earl in his own right. She didn’t remember their names.
‘I think the earl’s a good pick,’ the man with the bun said. ‘With the king’s favor and attention by being his son-in-law, he could do more for the villagers under his domain.’
‘I like the son of the marquess of Huntington,’ the bearded man said. ‘We could do with more meat.’
Sadness seeped through Sonya, and she stopped eating. None of these men in the tavern were wrong in their assessments of the advantages each union might bring. Sonya hadn’t met any of them, but she had seen their portraits and received letters from each of them.
Not a single one had asked her anything about her, what she wanted, what she liked. It was all about her kingdom and her castle and her father and brothers.
She didn’t want that fate. She wanted love—true love, the kind she read about in her endless shelves of books. The suitors couldn’t fall in love with her, not when they were blinded by her title and riches, and what she could provide for them.
Sonya’s lower lip trembled as her tears filled her eyes.
She hated being a princess. It would be different if she was like her brothers, involved in the kingdom, with purpose, but nobody ever expected anything from her.
Ever since Queen Zoya, her mother, died in childbirth, her father had been afraid.
But she wouldn’t have to deal with that any longer, she reminded herself.
No longer hungry, Sonya stood. She went up to the barkeep, holding her bag tight. The woman from earlier looked up, meeting Sonya’s gaze.
‘All finished, love?’ she asked. Sonya nodded. She knew this was where she would pay the woman for the food, except she had never done such a transaction before.
‘Thank you for such a lovely meal,’ Sonya said. ‘What do I owe you for it?’ She reached into the bag and pulled out her coin purse. Pulling apart the strings, she reached in and took out three gold coins.
The woman’s eyes widened, her mouth jutting open. Sonya sensed she had done something wrong. ‘I apologize,’ she said. ‘Is it not enough?’
‘Goodness, put that away before someone sees,’ the barkeep said, reaching a hand over to cover Sonya’s. ‘Four silver coins is enough.’
Sonya’s heart pounded as embarrassment flushed through her. She didn’t have any silver coins, only gold. ‘I—I’m sorry,’ she said, her hands shaking. ‘I don’t have any. Will one gold coin be alright?’
The barkeep’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Who are you?’
Blood rushed in Sonya’s ears. ‘I’m nobody.’ She gave the woman a gold coin, then another for good measure. The barkeep took them, pressing her lips together.
‘Nothing to worry ’bout from me,’ she replied. ‘I won’t cause no fuss for you.’
Sonya released a long breath. ‘Thank you for your hospitality,’ she said. With a final smile, she turned and left the tavern, stepping back out into the cold and dark night.
It was still raining, and her damp clothes quickly became soaked once more.
Sonya looked around, trying to find an inn or someplace she could stay for the night.
Fear pulsed through her, making her feel faint, and she rested a hand against the side of a building, trying to catch her breath.
She took in gulps of air, then continued on, turning a corner.
After a few steps, she realized she had turned into an alleyway. It was much quieter, which was a relief, but she noticed some bundles on the ground that turned out to be people, curled up and huddling together for warmth. Her stomach twisted.
One of the figures muttered something incoherent as Sonya walked past. ‘Miss, are you alright?’ Sonya asked, concerned, and the lady’s eyes opened. They were bloodshot, and the lady swiped a hand forward. Sonya let out a startled cry, stumbling back.
She turned and ran back the way she’d come, but she couldn’t find the tavern. Everything was so dark and wet, muddling in her mind. How did people navigate like this? She was entirely turned around.
She ended up in another dark street, though this one was thankfully empty. She continued along it, hearing voices at the other end.
As she approached, the voices grew louder, and she exhaled a breath of relief. She must have been nearing the main square once more. But when Sonya turned the corner, she bumped into two men.
‘Oh, pardon me!’ she exclaimed. Their focus turned to her, their eyes gleaming. They were swaying slightly, their movements strange. Sonya took a step back.
‘She’s pretty,’ the first man said. He drew the word ‘pretty’ out, his speech slurring on the consonants.
‘Very pretty,’ his companion agreed, speech also slurred.
Sonya backed up further, anxiety coursing through her. ‘Please leave me be,’ she said, her voice terribly small.
‘Ooh,’ the first man sang. ‘She’s got a posh little accent, too.’ Black splotches entered her vision, tremors running through her. ‘Are you lost, little mouse?’
‘I just need to get past—’
‘We should take her home,’ his companion said, ignoring her. He reached out a hand as if to grab her.
‘Get away from me!’ she cried. She was shocked by the pitch of her own voice; she had never yelled before. Fear was making her behave in ways she didn’t know were possible.
‘There’s no need to fret,’ the man said. ‘Why don’t we take you home, little mouse?’
‘Please,’ she said. Tears fell down her cheeks. She reached into her bag and took out the purse of money. ‘Take this.’ She held it out as an offering.
The men’s eyes went big as saucers when they spotted the glint of gold within the coin purse. Dread coursed through her.
It was a mistake. They only seemed more interested in her now.
‘Must be some rich lord’s whore,’ the man said.
‘Have you got more of that?’ his companion asked. He reached for her, and she shrieked, jolting out of the way.
The coin purse fell as the man barely missed grasping her. She turned and ran. Their laughter sounded in the air, followed quickly by the sound of footsteps as they chased her. A sob rose in her throat as she pushed herself harder, running faster.
She rounded a corner, then reached a dead end. ‘No,’ she gasped, out of breath. Panic gripped her. ‘No, no, no,’ she whispered, looking around desperately for an escape. There was none.
She reached into her bag, pulling out the dagger, but she knew it would accomplish nothing. It was dull and she didn’t know how to use it, and there were two of them. She was powerless.
Hands shaking, Sonya picked up a rock from the ground just as the men rounded the corner, and threw. By some stroke of luck, her aim was true, and the rock struck the second man’s temple. Even through the rain, she saw the amusement on his face morph into stark anger.
She threw the dagger at the other man, then picked up more rocks, throwing blindly and desperately, trying to move away, but there wasn’t anywhere to go.
And then there was nothing left to throw.
Sonya squeezed her eyes shut, afraid. She realized then what a fool she had been to leave the protection of the castle. Her father and brothers were right: the castle was the only place she was safe.
She braced for them to grab her but their hands never came. Instead, there was a commotion of some sort. Sonya opened her eyes to find both men on the ground, a figure standing above them.
She trembled as he turned toward her. He couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than herself, and he had a boyish look about him with his messy hair and bright eyes. His expression was kind.
Despite this—and the fact that he had just saved her—fear coursed through her body like tiny icicles pricking her skin.
Their eyes met—and recognition flashed on his countenance.
He opened his mouth, but before either of them could say a word, Sonya fainted.