Once Upon a Fairytale

CH.12 My prince, oh, my prince - come back to me

It was easy to avoid her stepmother in the palace.

It was huge. The corridors were like a maze.

One crossed the other. Staircases led to secret corners.

Hidden corridors through which the servants moved unnoticed.

Iris could easily get lost there. Even if they did not see her, she saw them.

How Prince Edmund spent whole days with Anastasia.

The stepmother watched them. She watched her plans being fulfilled.

But there were times when the prince didn't spend time in their company. They were few, but they were there. And Iris intended to take full advantage of them.

Anastasia and her stepmother went out into the city.

They probably went to pick out fabric for the new dress that Iris was so reluctant to sew.

One had already done more than enough damage.

Prince Edmund was training with the royal army.

While others were fencing and shooting at targets, he was fighting in the ring.

He was shirtless, revealing his well-built body to admire.

Sweat glistened on his skin. Golden strands of hair fell into his ice-blue eyes.

He seemed to be angry about something and needed to vent his emotions in a duel.

His attacks were aggressive, lacking in meaning.

His anger had clearly clouded his mind. He didn't take cover, and his opponent landed a left hook right on his temple.

The prince was knocked to the ground. The onlookers screamed with excitement.

At that moment, the crown prince was their equal.

"You are distracted, Your Excellency." His opponent offered him a helping hand.

"I'm just having a bad day," he said.

"This bad day has been going on for a while now. The engagement and upcoming wedding are obviously giving you worries."

"Not at all," the prince objected.

"So is there something else? What's bothering your mind, Your Highness, that you're not focused on the fight?" the soldier gave him a questioning look.

The prince shook his head. "Nothing." He pushed the thoughts back into the depths of the oceans of his mind.

But it definitely wasn't nothing. His thoughts kept running to something and he didn't know what. Everything was hazy. Trapped behind strong chains with an iron lock. He felt like he had lost something, but he couldn't figure out what.

He preferred to refuse to think about it. He saw how it was changing him and had no idea if it was for the better.

"I will win this time." He stood firmly on his feet and prepared for battle.

"But try to cover yourself better this time, Your Excellency," the soldier standing opposite him told him.

"Enjoying the view, Miss?" the guard commander found Iris on the terrace watching the soldiers training.

"I'm just avoiding my stepmother, Commander," she said.

The commander laughed. "We haven't been officially introduced yet, Miss. My name is Dominic." Like a gentleman, he kissed the back of her hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Commander Dominic. I guess you already know my name." She bowed gently to him.

"You're causing quite a commotion in the palace, Miss Iris. However, your dress is kind of gloomy today."

"The Queen's order. She finds my dress too provocative. The royal court is too conservative for my taste."

"The royal court and the royal family like their traditions. Some are bearable and some less so."

"Sometimes you have to throw away old ways and create new traditions, otherwise you will remain stuck in time."

"I agree. It's long past time for a new breath of wind. Perhaps it will be you, Miss Iris."

"I don't plan on staying at court for long. I don't fit in here. And besides, I think my stepmother will definitely kick me out quickly after the wedding."

"I hope you'll stay, though. You're a pleasant lift to the day. Even if your stepmother doesn't think so."

He's flirting with her, she thought. She couldn't help but smile. But if he knew the truth about who she was, he wouldn't think that about her.

"Can you handle a crossbow, Miss Iris?"

"I can definitely try."

The commander of the guards led Iris to the training ground.

The soldiers looked at them with interest. They also distracted the prince's attention.

Iris, with her head held high, walked proudly by the commander's side.

They approached the shooting range. Commander Dominic drew an arrow in the crossbow, aimed and fired.

It hit exactly in the middle. He drew another arrow and handed the crossbow to Iris.

"You have to have a steady hand and aim well. Then you just have to pull the trigger and the arrow will find its way to its target."

Iris aimed. The commander approached her from behind. With a gentle touch, he pushed down her overly raised elbow. He looked over her shoulder where she was aiming. He adjusted her direction slightly.

"Do you like the attention, my little witch? When all the men fall at your feet?"

Luc stood next to the target, a mischievous smile on his lips. Iris rolled her eyes. She aimed her crossbow at him. Commander Dominic adjusted her aim again.

"When you're ready, fire."

"Do you want to kill us all here, Dominic?" Prince Edmund approached them.

Iris lowered the crossbow without firing. They both turned their attention to him.

"It's just fun," the commander replied.

"Weapons don't belong in the hands of women. There's a reason women don't fight in armies. They don't have the talent for it. They would only hurt themselves," said Prince Edmund.

Iris rolled her eyes in annoyance. She didn't like it when men underestimated her just because she was a woman.

She could do anything a man could do, and maybe even better.

She gripped the crossbow tightly in her hands and aimed at the target.

She took a deep breath and let out an arrow with an exhale.

It hit the target right next to the commander's arrow.

With a wide smile, she turned to the prince, who was staring in amazement at her precise shot. The onlookers applauded her.

"It seems some has talent after all." The commander laughed.

"Just beginner's luck," said Prince Edmund.

Iris drew another arrow in the crossbow, confidently aimed, and fired. She hit the target with perfect accuracy. She bowed deeply to the prince with a grin, never taking her eyes off him.

"This wouldn't be the first time you've held a crossbow in your hand, would it?" Prince Edmund gave her a suspicious look.

"An old friend of mine once taught me," she replied.

"Did he teach you to handle even other weapons?" he asked her.

"Do you wish to test me, Your Highness?"

Iris tied the bottom of the skirt of her dress so that it wouldn't get caught under her feet.

One of the soldiers whistled admiringly.

The soldiers laughed. Prince Edmund gave them a warning look, defending the innocent's honor.

Iris provocatively lifted her skirt a little higher.

She showed more naked skin, down to her knees.

"Do you like to provoke?" the prince said to her.

"Does this provoke you, Your Highness?" she gave him a mischievous smile.

Instead of answering, he threw her his sword. It clattered to the ground. Iris picked it up. It was lighter than she expected. Almost as if it weighed nothing. An ornate guard protected her hand.

"Try not to hurt yourself," the prince told her.

Iris gripped the sword tightly in her hand and prepared for the fight. Jace had only taught her how to shoot a crossbow, but she didn't want to admit that she had never held a sword in her life. It couldn't be that complicated, she told herself.

Prince Edmund made the first attack. Iris parried him with ease.

He spared her. It was like a fleeting acquaintance.

He tested her swordsmanship. Iris did not attack, only defended.

She always let him make the first move. Like him, she studied his every move.

She looked for his weaknesses, his strengths to avoid. She tried to anticipate his every move.

At that, Prince Edmund swung his sword sharply. Iris dodged. She stepped on the back of her skirt, lost her balance, and fell to the ground. The soldiers laughed.

"The sword may not be your strong suit." Prince Edmund offered her a helping hand.

She put her hand in his and rose to her feet. "I haven't even shown myself fully yet," she told him.

She drew her sword at him. Prince Edmund drew his.

"Second round?"

"Win will be mine this time."

"We'll see."

Iris felt that familiar touch. She felt the warmth of his body on her back. How he gently grabbed her by the waist, pressing her to his chest. His powerful hand closed around the wrist of her sword-holding hand.

"Trust me and let yourself be guided," he whispered in her ear.

She relaxed in his arms, leaving her body completely in his power.

His step became her step. His breath became hers.

They let the prince make the first lunge.

They parried him with ease. On the second lunge, their swords met.

The steel sang. Iris's sword circled the princes.

It caught under its guard and was snatched from his palm.

The prince looked at her in amazement and confusion as his sword hung on hers. A proud smile graced her lips.

"I won".

"Just luck," said the prince, ignoring the soldiers' applause.

"Would you like to repeat that, Your Highness?" she said in a tone of challenge, handing him his sword.

"Iris!" the stepmother's angry voice rang through the air.

The laughter died down. The joy was replaced by tension. The prince seemed even more tense. Iris forced a fake smile.

"Dear brave soldiers, it seems I will now have to go fight another war."

She bowed prettily in goodbye and walked towards her stepmother. She kept her cruel gaze on her the whole time she walked towards her. Anastasia stood at her side. She had a look of betrayal on her face as if Iris owed her something.

"Stepmother. Anastasia. You came back earlier than I expected."

Her stepmother grabbed her and dragged her into the palace. Her grip was strong, painful. Iris wanted to break free from her grip, but she wouldn't let go. She dug her sharp nails into her skin as daggers. A little harder, craving her blood.

"Let me go!" Iris said. "Let me go!"

She dragged her into her room. She pushed her so hard that Iris fell hard to the ground.

"What do you think you're doing? Do you think you're going to impress the prince? Steal Anastasia's place?"

"The commander of the guards invited me to soldiers training. We shot crossbows. His Highness then challenged me to a duel. He wanted to know if I could handle a sword just as well. I had no evil plans."

"Do you really think we're that stupid that we'll believe you?" said Anastasia angrily. "You want to steal my prince from me."

"I'm not interested in your prince," Iris snapped.

But her stepmother saw the secret and sadness hidden behind her denial. She did not believe her words.

"The crown prince is your apprentice from the dragon festival." she realized.

Iris looked away. She couldn't deny it out loud, and she didn't want her eyes to give away the truth.

"It's him."

"No," she denied in a weak voice.

"He is. And I guess you didn't even know he was the crown prince, or you would never have made that dress. I have to admit, you played well at not knowing him when we brought you to the palace."

"I didn't play anything. That crown prince, infatuated with the spell you forced me to create, is not the man I met on the Bonfire night."

"So you admit it," Anastasia cried. "You want to steal him from me."

"You took my home. You took my freedom and my heart. You took everything from me. You'll never have enough? Why won't you just let me go?"

Tears welled up in Iris's eyes. They stung from the effort she had to suppress them.

"It will end when I say enough," said the stepmother. She turned her broken gaze to her. "Your work here is not yet finished. I am not afraid that you will win the prince's affection. But you will sew another dress. A dress that will make the entire royal court love Anastasia."

"No," Iris refused.

"You will do it. You have no choice. You know the other option."

"The magic in the dress may be able to deceive the minds of noble lords and ladies, but it will never change who Anastasia truly is. She is only a spoiled child who should not sit on the throne. With her as queen, this kingdom will fall. I cannot conjure brain into her head."

The stepmother wanted to hit her for her insults, but before her hand could touch Iris's face, an invisible force threw her away. She hit the wall hard. It almost knocked her out of breath.

"Mom!" Anastasia screamed in fright.

She immediately went to help her, picking her up from the ground. The stepmother looked at Iris with confusion written on her face, not understanding what had happened.

"There are powers in this world that you do not want to anger, dear stepmother," she told her, a sinister smile on her lips.

The stepmother got back on her feet, brushed her skirt, and walked fearfully to the door, shaking. But her self-confidence and sense of superiority over Iris remained.

"The engagement ball is coming up. I expect you to have the dress made by then," she told her, quickly leaving with Anastasia before the invisible force found her again.

"Are you hurt?"

Luc fell on the floor to Iris. With the back of his hand, he wiped away a lone tear rolling down her cheek.

"No. She didn't even touch me," she said. "Thank you."

"What about your hand?" Luc could smell blood.

Iris looked at the holes in her sleeve that her stepmother had left. She managed to dig her nails into her so deeply that she was bleeding. Luc tore off the sleeve of the overly conservative dress, covering her from head to toe, revealing small wounds decorated with bright red droplets.

"It's nothing," she said.

"It should be bandaged anyway. She bit down pretty deep."

As if out of nowhere, he pulled a bandage out of thin air and bandaged her wrist. He didn't give her any room to object.

"You really scared my stepmother," Iris remarked.

"If she touches you again, it'll end worse," Luc said. "This was just a warning."

"Aren't you breaking the rules?"

"You are my protégé and we are bound together, Iris. An attack on you is an attack on me. I will not allow anyone to harm you."

"So you protected all my ancestors?"

"It is my duty. Although I must admit that I have a particular weakness for you, my little witch."

That familiar address made her shiver. It was getting under her skin and even deeper. Even though she wasn't willing to admit it.

"What if your protégé turns against you?" she wondered.

"If you're asking if I could harm you, the ancient agreement I made with your ancestor forbids me from harming you in any way," he replied. " But why would I do that? I would never lay a hand on you like they did. I am the only one you can truly trust."

"Are there more of us? More witches who have accepted you?"

His lips twisted into a mischievous smile.

His eyes sparkled. He gently pulled her to him, sat her on his lap.

Even through the fabric of the dress, she could feel his hot touch as he appropriated her.

As if with just that fleeting touch he was saying that she would belong to him forever, marking her as the bond whose reminder was burned into her palm.

When his hand gently rested on her neck, fixing his bewitching gaze at her, in which she was losing herself with so much pleasure.

"Are you jealous?"

Her heart pounded from that closeness. Her breath quivered. She reminded herself not to look into those golden eyes, but she couldn't resist. She didn't understand what drew her to him so much. At that moment, she would have given him anything he asked for.

"Not at all. I'm just curious."

"The bond is mutual. Both must agree. One cannot be without the other. You are the last of your kind, Iris. And as I said, you are the only one I have accepted."

"Why? What does that even mean?"

What is so important about the bond?

"One day, when the time is right, when you are ready to accept and understand, I will explain everything to you."

"One day," she sighed. "It sounds like forever."