CHAPTER 3
Raena stayed by my side as we wandered back through the palace. Now that the sun was high in the sky, the corridors were stuffed with finely dressed court members. Each of them eyed us suspiciously as we passed by, and a few even dared to giggle when they turned back to their friends.
“Ignore them,” Raena grumbled, leading me down a smaller hallway. “While I love living in the palace, the shallowness of the aristocracy will never cease to surprise me.”
Though I’d never considered myself to be a beauty, I didn’t think my bare face warranted giggles. With every titter, my cheeks burned a harsher shade of red.
“We’ll swap your gown for something more suitable soon. Just wait till you try on the clothes I picked for you. Then we’ll see who’s laughing,” she said with a scoff.
Of course. They were laughing at my dress. I hadn’t changed since we’d arrived, and I was still wearing the plain beige gown, typical for girls in my village. There was nothing really flattering about it, with its long sleeves and dull fabric skirt – hardly a gown fit for a princess. Shame crept over me as my arms hugged my chest. If only there was some kind of elixir I could mix up to turn invisible; I’d down it in a heartbeat.
We passed through several more stone-walled hallways riddled with tittering court members until Raena eventually led me towards a huge archway.
“If we cut through this banquet hall, we’ll get to your room much faster.” She had to raise her voice to be heard over the raucous laughter and cheering from within the hall. The nerves must’ve been showing on my face because, before we stepped inside, she squeezed my hand reassuringly. “Just stay close to me and try to keep quiet. They’re running a duelling club today, so as long as you keep your head down, everyone will be too busy cheering on the fighters to notice you.”
I nodded. Truthfully, her words did little to steady my rocking stomach, but before I could insist we take another route, she tugged my arm towards the hall.
The banquet hall was overflowing with dozens upon dozens of people. Far too many people. Some were finely dressed, thickly perfumed nobles, clinking golden goblets and chattering amongst themselves. Others were plainly dressed servants or catering staff, confidently flitting between the groups of nobility, refilling empty goblets and sweeping away any finished plates.
If it weren’t for Raena’s grounding hand as she guided me around the long tables, I’d probably scream and hope the tiled floor gobbled me up. I’d never really understood why, but for as long as I could remember, bustling rooms would always make me feel like the whole world was caving in on me. Each unexpected noise and sudden movement would feel like a dozen talons scraping under my skin. The only way to make the panic stop would be to hide somewhere quiet and dark, or to force my mind to focus on something predictable and repetitive. Since hiding under a banquet table and clamping my hands over my ears wasn’t an option right now, I let my free hand draw subtle circles against my skirt.
Round and round and round and round. Until the jarring laughter wasn’t so jarring anymore.
“Duellists, prepare!” someone bellowed from across the hall, causing me to flinch and jerk my chin towards the sound. Around us, the chatter gradually faded as the crowd’s attention shifted to the centre of the room. All eyes were now on two young men, both standing poised and ready to fight on an empty banquet table. Each was dressed in lightweight athletic tunics, with narrow black masks partially covering their faces, and in each duellist’s right hand was a thin wooden practice sword. Despite the harmless nature of their blades, the sheer determination in their glares could’ve turned those swords into deadly weapons. And as a healer, I couldn’t help but scowl at the sight of it.
“Let the duel commence!” the same voice bellowed again. Then, with a swift beat of a drum, the duellists leapt into action, their weapons clashing together hard.
Suddenly, my feet were rooted to the ground. Raena’s hand tugged at mine, but I was too fixated on the scene to let her pull me away. It was a flurry of motion, a ballet of combat. The leftmost duellist, slightly shorter and with thick blonde curls, appeared to float across the table as he parried his attacker’s swings. The other, taller and with dark brown waves, struck fiercely and repeatedly, each swing meeting his opponent’s sword with a satisfying clack.
As their fight continued, the taller one seemed to grow frustrated. Even with my utter lack of combat experience, I could tell his attacks were becoming sloppy. They were too powered by emotion, and each swing became more and more careless. Seeming to sense this too, the shorter one moved to attack, then abruptly changed his stance, twisting his body to strike at the taller duellist’s knees. With a gasp from the crowd, the taller one was knocked backwards, his body thrown down and his head whacking against the wooden banquet table with an uncomfortably loud thud.
I winced. That didn’t sound like a healthy fall.
Worried murmurs rippled through the audience as the shorter one lowered his sword. He leaned down, clearly intending to help the other duellist up, but before he could, the fallen man kicked out his legs and sent his opponent flying. The crowd roared. It appeared the fight wasn’t over yet.
The taller duellist leapt to his feet, swaying a little before marching over to the shorter man who was now sprawled across the banquet table.
“Yield,” he spat, looming over his fallen opponent and pointing his sword towards his neck.
“You cheated,” the shorter one accused, “you were down and—”
“And now I’m up,” he cut him off, bringing the blade closer to his neck, “and now you’re on the table under my sword, so yield.”
The shorter man looked like he wanted to protest, but then something flashed across his face – recognition, perhaps? Both fighters were masked, but it’s possible he knew his voice. Before I had a chance to ponder more, the taller duellist swayed again.
‘Possible mindjarring,’a voice within me announced. ‘The patient is irritated and has trouble balancing after a head injury.’
Memories of a past lesson on mindjarring flooded my thoughts. Our teacher, one of the village elders, had used a jar of pickled vegetables to mimic the mind within a skull. She violently shook the jar to show how a sudden impact can jostle the mind, causing head pain, dizziness, confusion, and in severe cases – a loss of consciousness. Failure to treat could lead to chronic head pain and irritability, and she’d insisted it was imperative that someone who is mindjarred should seek immediate medical attention.
Immediate medical attention.
My heart caught in my throat. So much for keeping my head down. Without hesitating, I shoved through the crowds.
“Naria, what are you doing? Come back!” Raena hissed, but it was too late to try to stop me. I’d already disappeared into the mob.
“Please let me pass!” I called out with all the importance I could muster. “I’m a healer. I need to attend to the duellists.” Confused mumbles echoed around me, but eventually, the crowd surrounding the main table stepped aside. As soon as the path cleared, I raced towards the fighters.
“What is the meaning of this? Who are you?” The taller duellist shifted his attention to me, keeping the tip of his sword pointed at the fallen man.
“You might be mindjarred, so I need to examine you.” I swung my leg onto the table and heard him scoff as I heaved myself up.
“Might be what?” He shook his head. “This is absurd. Get back to the floor, servant, the duel isn’t over.”
Ignoring his complaints, I marched towards him. “I’m not a servant, I’m a healer,” I replied, but he was so tall it was difficult to maintain my serious facade. “Now, please remove your mask. I need to check your vision.”
The duellist watched me suspiciously until eventually he threw his wooden sword to the side, letting it clatter against the table. Then, he slipped off the black mask, sending shocked murmurs ringing through the crowd. My heart fluttered for a second. While I’ll admit his face was certainly very nice to look at, maybe even a little familiar, I didn’t let my focus slip from the task at hand.
“Follow my finger with your eyes, please,” I instructed, raising my finger up to his face. Slowly, I swished it from side to side. Thankfully, his grey irises followed my hand without any obvious difficulty. “That’s good,” I commented, while the young man raised an eyebrow. “You’re not mindjarred, but I should still check for any swelling.” My fingers reached for his head, and as I felt around gently for where the impact was, I tried to ignore how soft his dark brown hair was, or how it smelled like summer fruits. While I worked, outraged whispers sounded from the crowd, and for a moment, I caught a brief glimpse of Raena.
Horrified would not even begin to describe her expression.
Who was this duellist? Was he perhaps a well-known knight? Was that why he looked so familiar? I searched his face again as I continued feeling for any swelling. His eyes were a smooth, smoky grey – so similar to the King’s own eyes.
My heart sank. I knew this face. Of course, I did. I’d seen it less than an hour ago, standing beside the King in the grand portrait above the stairs.
“Well, healer, am I going to die? Or do you wish to just continue playing with my hair?” The prince’s words were laced with sarcasm as my hands quickly fell away from him.
“No.” I swallowed. “I apologise for interrupting your duel. There’s no swelling, so you’ll be fine. Now please excuse me… Your Highness.” Quickly, I stepped back and went to jump down off the table. But before I could take another step, a cold hand clamped around my wrist.
“Who are you?” He spoke in a low tone, pulling me closer.
There was no point in hiding it. He’d find out soon enough anyway. So, with a shaking voice, I replied, “My name is Naria.”
“Naria?” he repeated, surprise parting his lips. “You’re the Corlixin Princess?”
I nodded, still very aware of his hand gripping my wrist.
“You’re certainly not how I expected.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so I let a silence fall between us. Then, when I tried to slip my hand free, his grip around my wrist only tightened.
“You’ll come to the royal dining room for dinner tonight,” he ordered. “There is much we need to discuss. And we must be properly acquainted, especially since my father has decided that you are my new fiancée.”
Gasps echoed throughout the hall.
Fiancée…
The word sounded so foreign, and thanks to the prince, if our engagement wasn’t common knowledge before, it was now.
“I’ll see you tonight then.” I dipped my head, trying my hardest to avoid his gaze as I felt it stalk over my trembling body.
“Nervous little thing, aren’t you?” An almost devious smile tugged at his lips. “But you were so confident before, when you were playing healer.” A few of our onlookers sneered with laughter, sending a rosy blush blooming over my cheeks.
I should’ve held back. I should’ve just bitten my tongue and stared him down until eventually he released my wrist, but with my heart pounding and the cruel tittering seeming to come at me from every direction, I couldn’t stop myself.
“I apologise again for interrupting your duel.” My tone was cold as I tilted my chin up to meet his amused grin. “But might I suggest that perhaps next time you practise your duelling technique a little more before you embarrass yourself in front of all these people. It is much easier for a healer to fix a bruised head than a bruised ego, Your Highness.” I dipped my head with a sarcastic curtsy.
No one dared to pierce the deafening silence that followed. The prince dropped my wrist as though it burned, and the wicked smile that only moments ago covered his face had given way to a darkened anger.
“I’ll see you at dinner, fiancée.” He scowled before whirling away to face his opponent. “You!” He jabbed his finger towards the man still sprawled across the banquet table. “Get up. We’re not finished yet.”
I hadn’t noticed Raena slipping through the surrounding crowd until she tugged on the hem of my skirts, beckoning me down from the table. “Can I at least show you to your chamber before you start any more arguments with members of the royal family?” she hissed with a disappointed head shake.
Technically, it was his comment that started it, but I didn’t feel like arguing over the small details. Jumping down from the table, I quickly followed her out of the hall, the furious sounds of wooden swords clashing together growing quieter with every step.