Chapter Three #2
Whenever she acted out, spoke up, or tried to exercise the tiniest bit of freedom, King Salman ordered her minders to restrain and punish her—magically.
Those bids for attention didn’t draw him out as she wished, so eventually Emiana stopped trying, and played the obedient, silent, out-of-the-way child that he wanted.
Raised in a bustling, grand palace surrounded by dozens of people ready and eager to do her will, and Princess Emiana was the loneliest person in Lyrica.
It was my misfortune to know this. Visions, feelings, and memories of Emiana’s broken childhood floated through the paved, empty path the tea made of my mind. I almost felt sympathy for her, if not for the other memories that floated through my head.
The marriage negotiations with the representative of the king of Wind and Wild.
Like a certain other aloof, uncaring king, Shadowsoul hadn’t bothered to be present when he listed his demands for the union—from the twelve children I was to bear him to the highly detailed sexual acts I was expected to perform nightly.
That’s who she’s forcing me to marry in her place. If only I could get away. If there was some...
I lost track of the thought as a butterfly fluttered past the window. Delicate, purple wings with tiny spots dancing on their tips. The pretty little thing brought a smile to my lips, chasing unpleasant thoughts away.
What was there to be angry about? It was a gorgeous day. The sun was shining. The flowers were blooming. I didn’t need to go anywhere. Everything I needed was right there at the window.
“Good morning, Princess.” Fiona was suddenly pulling me up and away from my garden. “Forgive me for disturbing you, but it’s time.”
I cocked my head. “Time?”
“Why, for the wedding, ma’am.”
Wedding. The word traveled through my head, incited panic, and screamed at my limbs to run through the open door.
I took a step toward it, then many more as Fiona led me the opposite way.
“Right this way, Princess. Your dress arrived from the weavers this morning. It’s radiant,” she gushed. “You’ll be an absolute vision. The most beautiful bride in a century.”
I could say nothing as she brought me into the bath and undressed me.
Protests rose hot on my lips. I’d been bathing myself since a few short years out of swaddling. I did not need their help.
My mouth formed the words, then a bucket of warm water tipped over my head, and my indignation was carried down the drain in a soapy stream.
They scrubbed, washed, rinsed, scented, and scrubbed again every inch of me—including my most intimate places. I was a doll in their hands. A silent, obedient doll. What the princess of Lyrica was supposed to be.
But I’m not a princess, a voice hissed. Was it mine? You are no one’s doll. You’re no one’s sacrifice. You’re a sister and a daughter, and you have people who need you to WAKE UP!
I jerked up, knocking a scrubbing brush from Fiona’s hand.
What was I doing? Fiona left me unguarded for hours? Days? However long, and I hadn’t tried to escape once. No wonder Emiana felt comfortable using magic to force her way. She’d been raised to believe it was normal to turn someone into your puppet.
“I... have to... go.”
“Oh, yes, you’re right, Princess,” Fiona said. “You have to go and have your breakfast. The king declared that you’ll be leaving the kingdom immediately after the ceremony. It’s fourteen days’ ride to your new home, and who knows what manner of rotting carcasses those beasts pass off as food.”
Murmurs of agreement and scorn passed through the too-filled bathroom. Not even for the sake of the faewoman about to be married off to the beast, would they hide their disdain of faeriken.
Fiona helped me out of the bath and to the dressing room.
My mind was coming back in bits and pieces, but my strength wasn’t following.
I couldn’t stop her sitting me before the vanity.
Helpless, I watched the buzzing swarm of servants transform the famed beauty of Lyrica into a portrait of loveliness so blinding, I tried to hold on to the urge to look away.
Blemishes were banished from my cheeks. Powder paled my skin nearly translucent. Rouge darkened my lips to glittering, bloodred rubies. My hair was combed until it shone, twisted into a multitude of braids, then woven around my scalp like a crown.
While they transformed me, I planned.
Buried in Emiana’s memories was a walk-through of the ceremony.
Fath— King Salman didn’t trust Shadowsoul or his men an inch.
The faeriken party would be on the other side of the throne room with a contingent of guards between them and the nobles.
Salman would stand beside the altar with guards on either side of him, and I would be led through a side door beside the altar.
I’d walk past the king to my waiting soon-to-be husband, and behind him... would be another door that opened onto the palace gardens.
If I made it that far, I’d be free. All the guards would be inside guarding the king and noblemen. They wouldn’t spare a single able body to protect the plants. Once I broke out, I’d beat it through the garden, leap over the wall, then make it back to my family.
We’d all have to run of course. Emiana’s face was my face, and Salman would have his men hunt this face till land became sea, and beyond.
That was fine. There was nothing left for us in Lyrica. If we have to leave, we’d leave. At least my family would be safe. At least Shadowsoul would slink back into his dark, twisted forest, and find a wife there who was happy to be “seen, not heard” per his contracted request.
I nodded, steeling myself. This will work.
I’d never get away from this beastly army, but a quick dart around a surprised and unsuspecting Shadowsoul, and this entire nightmare would be over.
I pictured and plotted every step all through a breakfast that I pretended to chew, sip, and swallow. Every time I asked for this or that to be brought to me, I spat the food out while their backs were turned. There would be no calming teas or scones that morning.
After an unfulfilling breakfast, the servants returned me to the dressing room where my wedding gown awaited.
Gossamer silk fell in soft, wispy waves over ivory satin. Something that glittered like diamonds was stitched on the hem of my gown and the sleeves. Wait— They were diamonds. As priceless and coldly beautiful as the diamond tiara Fiona carried over on a pillow.
I almost spat on the thing.
“You will be the most beautiful bride in all the kingdoms,” she whispered, eyes shining, “and... I’m sorry.”
I tensed, looking away. “But I thank you,” I rasped. The words were coming slow, but they were coming. I didn’t speak at all while under the influence of the drugged teas. “Finally, we stop pretending this is a happy day.”
No one knew what to say, least of all Fiona. Least of all me. There was utter silence as they helped me into my dress, did up two dozen diamond buttons going up my back, and settled the tiara on my crown of braids.
Fiona is right, I thought as I gazed into the mirror. Never had there been a more beautiful bride.
“Would you give me some time alone?” I heard myself say. “This is to be my last day in this room. On my own. I’d like a minute to say goodbye.”
“I don’t know if—”
“Of course, Princess,” Fiona sliced in, cutting off one of the women. “It is the least we, your people, can do for you before you set off to the brutal lands for all our sakes. We thank you, Princess Emiana, as deeply as we love you.”
Fiona bowed deeply and the gesture cascaded around the room, bringing all of their heads down.
Memories floated through my head of interacting with these women and Fiona throughout my daily routines and before special functions.
I had wondered why I couldn’t recall most of their names, then it came to me that I never asked.
They all bowed and showed the highest deference to a princess who saw them as nothing more than helpful decoration, because they knew what was awaiting me on the other side of the gnarled, dead trees and perilous cliffs that surrounded the kingdom of Wind and Wild.
I would sacrifice and be put through so much worse than staff forced to serve an arrogant royal.
“Five minutes, if you permit, Princess,” said Anice, the dressmaker. “His Royal Highness was most insistent that you not be late for the ceremony.”
“Has Shadowsoul and his people already arrived?” I asked.
“They arrived three days ago, ma’am.”
Three days. For three days at least I’d been sitting in front of the window like a houseplant, wasting precious time while my family worried, Kirwan tightened his grip, and Emiana got farther away.
“What...?” It wasn’t the tea that slowed my tongue. “What are they like?”
Anice’s smile wiped away. Looking me in the eye, she said, “They’re even worse than we feared.”
Her words hung in the air after the servants left, Fiona the final one to walk out and close the door.
Emiana saved me from days of being passed around by feral beasts, only to see me married off to the worst one.
I fixed on all the bits and bobs the servants left behind, most of all the scissors. They—Princess Emiana, Kirwan, King Salman, Alisdair Shadowsoul—believed I could be bought and sold without a fight, even if it meant chaining me down.
“Not quite.”
I REACHED FOR THE KNOB as it opened.
“Excuse me, Princess? We really must go. Are you read—?” Fiona choked, eyes bugging. “Princess!?”
Lifting my chin high, I smiled. “I’m ready. Let’s go. We mustn’t keep my betrothed waiting.”
“B-b-b-but—”
I brushed past her, marching out of the room and into the hall. One of my escorting guards dropped his sword. He swore foully as he scrambled to pick it up, then pointed his gaze over my head—his face reddening.
“Princess,” Fiona half-screamed. “You mustn’t— You can’t—”