CH.22 Good morning, my prince
A gentle kiss on her shoulder woke her up. She opened her eyes briefly. The morning rays of the sun caressed her face. Their gazes met like waves of the sea and the shore. They were losing in each other. The smile decorating his lips conjured a smile on her lips as well.
"Good morning, love."
That address warmed her heart. Love. Even though she knew it didn't really belong to her, her heart danced with joy.
"Good morning, my prince."
"My prince?"
"Is there something wrong with that?" she hesitated, thinking she just said something wrong.
"No, I actually like it, my love," he said and kissed her passionately, and she kissed him back.
"You must have been tired after yesterday. You overslept a bit, " the prince told her.
"Yes, it's been a long and hard day," Iris said, though she had no idea what the prince was talking about. She would probably have to talk to Anastasia a little.
"I'm sure my mother can be exhausting with all those rules and her talks about how a princess should behave," he gave her a sympathetic smile. "But soon, it will all be over, and it will just be you and me."
"I'm really looking forward to that."
Prince Edmund noticed her bandaged hand. "What happened to you?" he asked, concern in his voice.
Iris was taken aback. She had forgotten about that. The one thing her mother's magic couldn't hide, the blade wound and her bond with the demon. A weakness that could give her away.
"It's nothing," she said. "I just accidentally broke a glass and cut myself. I'm fine."
"I'll take a look at it for you."
She pulled her hand away from his. "I'm fine. It's just a scratch. It doesn't even hurt."
"Then I'll at least fill a bath for you so you can relax a little before today's jousting tournament."
"No!" she shouted, perhaps a little too loudly to stop him from getting out of bed. Prince Edmund looked at her in confusion, almost startled.
"I'm too tired. I'd probably fall asleep in there and drown." she tried to lure him away from the bathroom door. "But after the tournament, we can take a bath together," she suggested.
His eyes sparkled mischievously. "I really like that idea." He obviously wasn't suspicious. "Then, after the tournament. Now I'll let you get ready. You know my mother doesn't like being late."
As the door closed behind him, Iris fell back into the soft pillows and took a deep breath. It was a close call. The game hadn't even really started, and it was already falling apart like a house of cards.
But now she didn't have time to think about her stepsister. She couldn't be late. She looked in her closet to find a suitable dress for the jousting tournament. The flood of pink made her sick. Wearing Anastasia's dress was probably one of the worst things about pretending to be her.
The queen entered her chambers with a whole host of maids. Iris immediately took notice.
"Edmund told me you were finally awake. It was a long day yesterday, so I forgive you, but a proper princess should always wake with dawn."
Iris wanted to object, but she bit her tongue. It was definitely not the time to be herself.
"I apologize, Your Majesty. It won't happen again," she said.
The Queen nodded to the maids to spread the dress they had brought on the chair.
"I wore this dress to my first jousting tournament. Now I'm giving it to you."
"It would be an honor, Your Majesty."
I looked like a fancy military uniform for women. Gold chains hung from gold inserts on the shoulders. The gold buttons were decorated with the family crest with a lion symbol. She even got a little hat with a bow.
The whole time they were dressing her, Iris nervously glanced at the bathroom door. At any moment, they could reveal that she was an impostor and find the real Anastasia tied up.
"What happened to your hand?" the queen asked her, breaking her out of her thoughts.
"I broke a glass and cut myself," she replied.
"That bandage doesn't look very good. Let's hide it under the gloves."
"You look beautiful, love," Prince Edmund complimented her as she finally stepped outside in the company of the Queen.
"Thank you. You look impressive in that uniform too," she told him.
While the king and queen were dressed in blood red, they were dressed in royal blue as is protocol for heirs to the throne.
Prince Edmund helped her onto the horse.
She was sitting in a lady's saddle. Iris had never liked it.
She found it uncomfortable and the horse was difficult to control.
She always felt like she would fall off.
But a lady is expected to ride in a lady's saddle, she is not allowed to ride like a man.
And as Anastasia, the fiancée of the crown prince and future queen, she had to be a moral example. Even against her will.
The procession went through the city. The king and queen rode in a magnificent carriage, which at first glance could only belong to the royal family.
It was made entirely of gold and inlaid with precious stones.
A display of power and luxury. Iris walked alongside Prince Edmund behind the carriage.
They smiled and waved to the subjects who came to greet them. They shouted and howled with joy.
A little girl ran up to Iris' horse. The guards immediately stopped her.
"It's okay. Let her go!" Iris ordered them.
The little girl approached her and gave her a gift she had prepared for her. It was a brooch. A swan embroidered with gorals. They shone beautifully in the sunlight.
"I made it myself," said the little girl.
"Thank you," Iris said, pinning the brooch to her dress. "I truly appreciate your gift."
She thought for a moment, then took off her hat and handed it to the girl. "Here's something to remember me by."
She saw her eyes light up. A wide smile graced her lips. She held the hat as if it were the most precious gift.
"Thank you, Your Highness."
They arrived at a crossroads. The arena where the tournament was to take place was now in sight. People were crowding towards the majestic, towering amphitheater to get a seat, dodging the royal procession.
"Iris... Iris..." she suddenly heard that quiet voice. "Iris..."
She recognized his voice very well. Luc.
"Iris..."
Her heart skipped a beat. She looked around, searching for his golden eyes.
"Iris..." his voice sounded in her head.
"Are you okay, Anastasia?" Prince Edmund noticed her uneasiness.
She nodded uncertainly. She had no idea how long she would be okay if the enraged demon happened to get out.
"Iris... Come back to me. My queen."
Out of nowhere, masked figures emerged from the crowd. Rebels. Chaos erupted. The joyful cheers turned to fearful screams.
"Protect the king!" the commander of the guards shouted.
The rebel blades clashed with the swords of the royal guard.
The steel sang. Iris' horse panicked. It stood on its hind legs, kicking its front legs wildly in the air.
Iris tried to tame it. She held the reins tightly in her hands, but in the end, she lost balance in the lady's saddle and fell hard.
"Anastasia!" she heard the prince shout.
The hard fall on the paved ground almost knocked her out of breath. Her vision blurred for a moment. She saw the horse still kicking timidly above her. She rolled out of his way so it wouldn't trample her. Prince Edmund helped her to her feet.
"Stay behind me! I won't let them hurt you."
He hid her behind his back. Iris stuck by him the whole time, at least, she tried.
"Watch out!" she shouted as a masked rebel attacked them from behind.
Prince Edmund pushed her out of the reach of the blade.
The fight separated them again. There was chaos on the street.
The rebels were trying to get to the royal carriage.
They were attacking the king. Prince Edmund fought bravely alongside the soldiers, trying to get back to his beloved.
Frightened people were running here and there.
Iris was lost in the chaos. She was spinning on her own axis, unable to take a step. She didn't know where to run.
Someone grabbed her. One of the rebels. She was twitching, writhing, but he held her tightly.
"I have her!" he shouted to his companions. "I have the prince's bride!"
He dragged her away. Prince Edmund tried to reach them, but more and more rebels cut off his path.
Iris elbowed her captor hard in the ribs and chin.
He let go of her immediately. He grunted in pain.
She snatched the sword from his hand and slit his throat without hesitation.
The red waterfall stained his clothes. He choked on his own blood.
He clutched his throat tightly, but it didn't save his life.
He snorted, coughing up blood. He fell to his knees.
His eyes widened in shock. Where there had once been life, there was only emptiness.
He fell to the ground, breathless, in a pool of his own blood.
She bent over his corpse. Staring into the pool of blood as if hypnotized, she completely shut out the chaos raging around her.
It didn't reflect the world above her like water, it swallowed it.
It was the most beautiful color. Something drew her to it.
Something twisted inside her. She dipped her fingers in it.
She licked them, tasting blood on her tongue. So sweet and intoxicating.
She shook off the daze. She pulled away in fear. Iris was horrified at herself. What is she doing? That's not her. It's Luc's fault. He's in her head. It was his perverted desire. She has to resist. But...
The rebels wanted revenge on her for the death of their friend.
Iris easily parried their attacks. They were very inexperienced in the battle for someone who wanted to overthrow the royal family.
She let her sword cut into their flesh. She watched as fresh blood flowed from their veins. She took their lives. One by one.
She encountered a rebel she recognized even through his mask.
She froze. She put the tip of her blade to his neck.
She glared at him. He would never learn.
At least he was wearing the shirt she had sewn for him, she noticed.
They stood there in confusion, staring at each other.
She wouldn't hurt him, and he didn't dare take a step toward her as the blade of her sword cut into his neck.
"Anastasia!" she heard the prince's voice approaching.
"Run!" she said to Jace, putting down her sword.
This made him seem even more confused. But he did as she said. He turned on his heel and ran away. It was a losing battle.
The rebels began to retreat. Many dead lay on the ground. Lakes of blood merged into a sea. The red seeped into the ground. It seeped into it like poison. The sweet smell of death hung in the air.
"Are you okay?" the worried prince ran to Iris, covered in blood.
"Yes," she said. "It's not mine."
Tired, she let the sword fall to the ground.
The steel sang. She had not expected to have to deal with such a drama on the very first day.
The soldiers looked at her in confusion.
The stepmother, who was hiding in the distance from the battle, stared at her as if she did not recognize her own daughter at all.
Iris hid from their condemning gazes in the prince's arms. He hugged her tightly as if he should never let her go.
"We will return to the palace," he said. "We have had enough fighting today."
?
They were sitting in the bathtub. Iris was leaning against the prince's chest. He gently hugged her around the waist. He kissed her shoulder.
"I had no idea you were so good with a sword," he remarked.
"I don't think so. They were just so terrible," she said with a fake smile.
"I can hear in your voice that it bothers you. That you killed. But you only did what was necessary. If you hadn't killed him, he would certainly not hesitate to harm you. You must remember that there is no mercy with rebels."
"I'm just in shock about the whole thing. It was unexpected and horrible. So much blood."
The blood she liked the sight of so much.
"Don't worry. It will never happen again. I won't let them come near you ever again."