The Traitor Princess

Today is Emet’s grand finale. His big triumph.

He’s had workmen constructing a great obstacle course for months. It stretches so far, it’s hard to see one end to the other.

He’s had six great bears brought down from the mountains. Each suitor will have to slay one.

Emet is looking to entertain, to amuse his court, to put on a spectacle.

We all know these suitors won’t be harmed, that they will triumph in their own way.

But this gives them an opportunity to excel, to show off their competitiveness, and ultimately, for the warlords, in particular, to show their God-given power.

Okini goes first. He does well. He ducks and dives over the various different counterweights and flying objects. It takes him forever to slay the bear despite it being chained to a great post.

I can’t watch. I can’t tolerate it.

When the poor creature is finally dead, he bows.

Kelgar is next. He puts on a similar performance, and by halfway around the course, I zone out.

It doesn’t matter who wins; it doesn’t matter who loses either. I know Emet has already decided. Yesterday he struck a deal and this before us is all a charade.

Tonight, I will find out who the victor is, and tomorrow, my fate will be sealed. Emet will have me married and whatever dowry, whatever great gift is being offered, will be his.

I will be sold.

The cow will have gone to market and it will all be over.

I grit my teeth and let out a sigh before I realize I’ve done it.

“Are you bored, Arbella?” Emet asks and I feel my stomach drop.

I should have been more careful.

“No brother. Just tired,” I reply quickly.

“Come here. Sit,” he says.

I move quickly as everyone watches.

“You have done well so far, sister,” he says quietly so that only I can hear.

I nod.

“When this tournament is done and we are at the feast, I will announce who the victor is,” he says. “You will behave yourself. You will not react. Whoever’s name I call, you will be happy with it, is that correct?”

I nod again.

“Say it, Arbella.”

“Yes, brother.”

He narrows his eyes for a second. “You understand what will happen tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I say quickly.

He raises an eyebrow and I frown.

“The wedding,” I say even as the words stick in my throat.

He laughs. “I meant after the wedding.”

I look away feeling the shame rising within me.

“You know enough about men to know what will happen,” he murmurs.

“Emet please…” I whisper.

“You will do your duty, do you understand?”

I nod quickly, hoping it might bring an end to this awful conversation.

“You will—”

A cry echoes from the grounds, cutting my brother’s words, and I jump from my seat, using it as an excuse to see what is going on, when in reality, I am fleeing the monster beside me.

Kelgar has fallen. Though he’s not gravely wounded, he has a deep gash, and for a moment, I feel sorry for him, for all of them, caught in the web of my brother’s making.

Tonath steps up. He looks across at us and I swear he’s staring right at me.

I don’t feel sorry for him.

I feel like he knows exactly what he’s getting into, what the game is, and yet, he’s still playing.

He manages the course quickly. He’s agile, despite his massive size.

I hate to admit it, but I’m impressed watching him, and when he comes to the final task of slaying the bear, he does it faster than everyone before him.

He drives his sword in, killing the bear in an instant, and though I flinch at the pointless brutality of this entire spectacle, I’m grateful that this poor animal didn’t suffer.

Gariss comes next, then Vesak.

If I’m honest, they roll into one haze of running, jumping, fighting.

Both slay the bears, but Vesak makes such a spectacle of it, I have to fight not to cover my face and it’s all I can do to stand there, hearing its awful anguished cry.

Luxley is last. Just like last time.

I hope it’s an omen.

An indication.

That this man won’t prevail, that after all the awful things he said to me yesterday, he won’t be my brother’s ally. That I won’t be sold to this man.

He matches everyone else with the course, jumping, fighting.

He’s just as agile, just as fierce. When he comes face to face with the bear, he stands so still I wonder if he might have frozen in fear.

And then he lunges, driving his blade into the poor creature’s throat before he hacks its head off and holds it up like a trophy.

The crowd cheers. The entire court cheers and I try not to vomit at the sight.

Emet stands up, applauding.

I look back at him with his shining crown and his beautiful cloak.

In this moment, he does look like a king. A real king.

His eyes meet mine and he smirks like he knows what I’m thinking.

“We will have a recess before the feast,” he says and everyone smiles.

He beckons me to him and I walk slowly, hating each step I make.

“Come,” he says quietly and we step down from the opulent stand he has had crafted into the dark recesses beyond.

We walk in silence back to the castle.

In a few hours, I will learn my fate. I will know which of these six men I am being essentially forced to marry.

Emet comes to a stop and turns to face me.

His eyes flicker behind and I frown, glancing back, and see someone standing in the shadows.

As if sending a signal, Emet inclines his head slowly then turns and walks away and I go to follow him, but someone grabs my arm, yanking me round.

I cry as I see it is Luxley.

He’s still covered in the dirt and blood from the tournament.

“Let me go,” I say quickly.

He shakes his head. “No, Princess, your brother has granted me a little more time with you.”

I shake my head, trying to pull myself free, and he growls, annoyed, slamming me back into the wall.

“I thought I told you I like obedience,” he says.

“I don’t care. Let me go,” I say.

He narrows his eyes.

“Oh, you will care, Princess. I’m going to make sure you spend all your days caring for my likes and dislikes.”

I frown. I don’t even understand what he’s getting at, but it dawns on me what’s happening.

Why my brother granted him a second audience, why I am here, unchaperoned, unguarded even, in this moment.

Luxley starts grabbing at me and I feel the skirts of my dress rising.

“Stop,” I gasp, trying to push him off.

He laughs at my pathetic, futile attempts, and within seconds, he’s pinned me down and my dress is up at my waist.

I scream. I scream so loud.

I scream for the guards, for anyone, and he snarls, annoyed, stuffing something into my mouth to silence me while one hand yanks both my arms above my head and the other slides under my panties.

“I’m just going to have a taste, Princess. Call it a starter if you will before the main course tomorrow,” he murmurs as he jabs his fingers into me, and I whimper, my voice muffled by the fabric.

All I can feel is pain—sharp, hot pain—as his nails scrape in me and he assaults me further.

I’m jerking, trying to get free, but his one hand holds me tight.

I’m screaming, but no noise is getting out.

Footsteps start echoing down the hall and Luxley springs off me just as the guards make an appearance. They look between us.

I’m still flat against the wall.

My dress might have fallen back to cover me. I’ve pulled the fabric from my mouth, but it’s clear to anyone that something has happened, that Luxley has done something.

He stands amused, looking at the commotion as if he is proud, and as he stares at me, he raises his fingers and sucks on them.

I shudder, feeling so utterly repulsed, and run from him, from all of them.

***

That evening, Emet has me wear a dark midnight blue dress. The color of our family. It offsets my skin tone so well that I hate it.

I look like I’m glowing, like I’m radiating beauty, but inside I’m as good as dead.

My hair has been styled into curls. Long golden curls hang down, and the darkness of my dress only highlights the color of my hair.

I sit staring at my plate, not looking at a single person, not engaging, wishing I could fade away and disappear entirely.

Around me, the court chatters, laughs, jokes.

For them, this is an evening of merriment.

Emet has made sure the wine is flowing, keen to ensure his guests are well catered for.

“Eat, Princess,” Manox says beside me, but I can’t. I feel too sick. Too utterly hopeless to even attempt it.

All I keep doing is running through any and all chances I might have of escape between now and the morning, but I know there aren’t any.

Once this meal is done, I’ll be escorted back to my room.

The window is sealed so I can’t get out that way, and the guards will be at my door, as usual.

I’ll be cornered, trapped, imprisoned.

Part of me wishes I could shut my brain off, that my mind could just melt away into nothing, and then Emet and Luxley and everyone else can just do what they want to my body and I’ll be none the wiser. I’ll be a zombie.

I’ll exist, but I won’t suffer. No one could hurt me anymore.

A loud ringing brings me out of my stupor, and I glance round to see my brother standing.

This is it. This is the moment. When he confirms what I already know. When he tells the entire court what my fate is.

I put my hands in my lap, clenching my fists, piercing my very flesh with my nails as I stare down.

I can’t look at anyone because I think I might break if I do.

My brother is talking. Making some great spiel about what a great contest it was. I can feel eyes on me. People watching me.

I know Tonath is also watching, and I’m pretty certain every other one of my suitors is too.

“Lord Luxley,” my brother announces.

I shut my eyes and my shoulders sink in despair.

I can’t help it. I can’t even fight it.

The court cheers out.

Evidently, they are happy with this turn of events, this warlord chosen to be my husband.

I can still feel his hands on me, his grip holding me down, his fingers jabbing at me too.

I want to lash out, to grab the knife from my plate and climb across these tables and gut the man.

I look at it wondering how sharp the blade is and how much it would hurt if I simply picked it up and forced it into my throat right this minute. It would feel like an escape. Revenge too.

Because what would my brother do if I was gone?

He could hardly marry off a dead body, the still bleeding corpse of a princess.

“Princess?” Manox says, and I look at him. “The feast is over,” he says quietly.

I look around, realizing he is right. Half the room is emptying. My brother is laughing, celebrating, enjoying himself.

Cali is hanging off his arm in a dress so revealing you can see the very outline of her nipples slipping out from the fabric.

I meet his eyes and the look he gives me makes me want to puke.

“Do you want me to escort you to your room?” Manox asks.

I nod, unable to speak, unable to form words.

He stands, holding his arm out, and I take it because I’m trembling so much I think I might fall.

Emet watches every step we take.

As soon as I’m back in my room and the door is shut, I collapse. I can’t move. I can barely breathe.

Of all the awful fates I could have had, this surely is the worst?

What did I do to make the gods so angry that they would condemn me to such an existence?

I want to die.

In this moment, I want to throw myself from the tallest tower and be done with it, but as I search my room for a way to end myself, I realize that this isn’t the answer.

Death is not my reprieve.

No, I am going to fight. I am going to escape. I am going to survive.

I will marry this man, let him fuck me if I have to. I will fool him, let him think I am obedient, that I’m his perfect wife as he puts it, and then when the moment presents itself, I will run.

I will flee.

I will escape him and my brother and the Warlord King Kaldan, who even now, must know that I am being sold and must already be planning his response.

I get up, stand up, and yank the dress off me.

I’m not just going to roll over and let this happen. I’m not just going to play the docile princess anymore.

I’m done with it. I’m changing the rules.

This is my game now. And the rules will be mine.