by M. A. Roth
DARK
QUEEN
THE ELEMENTS SERIES
BY M.A. ROTH
Other Books by M.A.Roth
THE ELEMENT SERIES
Hidden Princess
CHAPTER ONE
THE PUNISHMENT
Click, Click, Click. I pause and silence follows. I start to walk again, listening to my heels click on the solid stone floor as I move down the long corridor. The sound bounces around me as I am heavy on my feet with intent. It’s a warning to the servants to stay hidden and out of my way, as I make my daily walk around the castle. I hope today that I might catch a servant off-guard, have a little fun. My eyes light up. Today is a good day. Flat Nose, one of the servants, stands momentarily frozen in my path. The name I gave her is simply because she has the ugliest and flattest nose I have ever seen. Her stance shifts and she tries to run, too late.
“Stop,” I sing. She shivers. I smile. I take my time moving towards her, becoming heavier on my heels, making the sound louder. Flat Nose peers at me from under her lashes. She is three years older than I, and stands a good foot taller than me. That, I hate. I refuse to look up to any servant.
“Kneel,” I command and she descends to her knees facing me, yet keeping her eyes downcast. Her cream simple dress fans out around her. Brown shoes peeked out from under the dress. I stand over her now, saying nothing, hoping she will break and look at me. My focus is on the crown of her head. She parts her hair in the centre, her white scalp is my focus. I wonder how long she can play my game. This is her first time being caught, so I wonder how long she can kneel there and wait, feeling unsure of what might happen. I’m not sure what I will do, but that’s what makes this so much fun. I wait patiently. At the age of nineteen I have acquired a lot of patience. I spend most my time observing others. One lesson I learnt with servants was never be soft, always be patient. It allows their fear to grow. I know they hate me because I am a princess. Not a valid reason in my opinion, so I give them another reason to hate me, and it’s fear.
Flat Nose’s eyes flicker to mine and shoot back down to the ground. I smile. I win. I always win. Now, what will her punishment be for looking at me with such hateful eyes? Ten lashes, maybe? No, that is boring. I want to be more creative. A male servant enters the corridor and freezes when he sees me. My smile widens, today really is starting out fun. Now he will be punished too.
I remember his name, Ace. He’s handsome, but a servant all the same. He wears the same shoes as Flat Nose, they are truly ugly. Brown breeches and a cream tunic, unflattering as they are still don’t take away from his handsome face.
“You. Boy, bring me a bucket, two spoons and two of the largest eggs you can find.”
His brown eyes widen.
“Now,” I add.
“Yes Princess.” He bends quickly before he scurries off.
I stand still, smiling down at the top of Flat Nose’s head. God, she is pitiful.
Once I had discovered a nest of ants, they all had moved as one. Heads down, working quickly. Oblivious to me standing above them. How easy it had been to crush them. They had no chance, that’s what the servants reminded me of; stupid, pitiful ants.
Ace arrives back, his hands filled with everything I have asked for. His face is flushed, his eyes wild and confused. I let the smile leave my face, he will understand soon enough.
“Place the bucket three feet in front of you, right in the centre.” I point to exactly where I want it. He moves three paces and makes sure the bucket is centralised. Sconces that are burning are fixed on both walls parallel to the bucket. This will be fun. Flat Nose looks up at me then, with fear and unease flashing in her blue eyes.
I hold her stare for a moment and she looks away. “Stand on the bucket.” Her head snaps up and she walks slowly to the bucket. Her feet are large for a girl making it harder to keep her balance. I turn back to Ace.
“Spoons.” Ace pulls them out of the pocket of his breeches..
“Place them in each of her hands.” He does and flat nose gives him a pleading look. It will do her no good, he has no power here, neither of them do.
“Stretch out your arms.” She does, and the very top of each spoon sits perfectly over the flames, just as I had envisioned.
“Now, place the eggs on the spoons.”
Ace does once again what I ask. Flat nose looks ridiculous wobbling on the bucket, her outstretched arms holding the spoons steady. I wonder how long it will take for the spoons to heat up. Will she drop them first from exhaustion, will she fall, or will the heat burn her, causing her to drop the eggs. The possibilities are endless. But I can’t stay and watch.
“Oh flat nose, you look like the fool that you are.” I grin and her eyes blaze with hatred and humiliation. Turning to Ace, I smile sweetly at him.
“I want you to stay here and watch her until I get back.” The color slowly drains from his face. “Now, Ace,” I say his name with a smile and he pales further. I want to laugh but suppress it, this is too much fun. “If she drops the eggs or falls from the bucket, she will get ten lashes.” Then I let my smile fall, to make sure he understands my next words. “If you help her, or lie to me, you will get twenty lashes. I will have someone keep an eye on both of you.” Ace nods, he looks like he might faint. I take one final look at flat nose, her eyes filling with tears, and I smile happily as I continue down the corridor.
“Don’t drop the eggs, flat nose,” I sing back over my shoulder as I make my way to the training ground. It is a place I am not allowed to go to, but it is a place I am happiest, because the future King of Saskia, my future husband, will be there, training very hard.
I watch Nierra from the shadows. I know every inch of him off by heart. Every night since I can remember I have sat here and watched him. He is a few years older than I, and he is the most handsome man I have ever seen. Right now he is sparring with Morrick, his second in command and also his best friend. Morrick is handsome, but he is nothing like my Nierra. I always stay in the shadows, hidden from view. I only want to watch him now, and dream later about him. Nierra is so graceful in his movements and I never tire of watching him. His body is muscular yet lean, and now his top is soaked with sweat, clinging to his perfect frame. His long brown hair is tied at the nape of his neck, the same way he wears it most the time, and a few strands have broken free, but they never seem to get in his way. He is focused on Morrick, circling his opponent. His brown eyes are set in deadly concentration. He will strike when Morrick shifts to his left leg, like he always does, giving Nierra the chance to strike at his right, where his weight is the lightest. He does just as he always does, and Morrick is on his back with Nierra’s sword pointed at his throat. I want to clap with glee. Of course he won, he always does. My heart swells with pride, my future husband isn’t just handsome but the best warrior I have ever seen. Someone else starts clapping and a young woman smiles at Nierra. “Well done,” she says smiling. She’s beautiful in a natural way, her cheeks are flushed against her tanned skin, and her blue eyes are clear, alert and happy. I watch as she swings her curvy hips from side to side as she walks towards him, her long plated hair swinging down her back. My heart nearly stops when my Nierra smiles at her. It is one that I have dreamed of, the way I always want him to smile at me, on our first meeting. I feel my own lips rise in a smile then I stop. He wasn’t smiling at me; he was smiling at her, the whore, chasing my Nierra. They talk and she giggles. I can’t hear what they are saying, my heart is pounding in my ears, and my stomach feels queasy. My breaths are hard to catch; I sink deeper into the shadows, trying to take large gulps of air before turning back to the castle.
CHAPTER TWO
THE WHIPPING
He wants her I can see it in his eyes. He wants her, not me. I’m not good enough. I want to scream,
kill her, or tear myself apart. Instead I do what I do best. I place one foot in front of the other, keeping my face clear of all the emotions that rage inside me. I walk with a purpose that doesn’t exist, and move with a grace I never possessed. I am back on the corridor not even remembering my previous steps, but I am here and flat nose and Ace come into view. On the ground on both sides of the bucket lies a broken egg. I look up at flat nose and a sob escapes her lips. “Ten lashes for you both,” I say, my voice sounds so dull. My earlier excitement is gone. Ace turns to me with confusion in his eyes, making me want to tear his eyeballs right out of their sockets.
“Move now both of you.” Flat nose practically falls off the bucket, her legs trembling, and both of them pass me sliding against the wall, keeping their heads bowed. Why wasn’t I feeling satisfied, am I not being creative enough?
“Stop.” Both of them freeze and I walk towards them taking the lead, they follow as we make our way to the dungeons. The darkness is the first thing I notice. Then the smell of dampness, urine and decay hit me when I reach the bottom step. Marcus, the guard, rises and bows when he sees me. He doesn’t show anything on his face, no surprise at having the princess enter the dungeon.
“Stay outside the door, I will call you if I need you,” I say, dismissing him. I have never been here before, I never get my hands dirty, and that’s what Marcus is here for. But right now my tattered heart is hurting and I need release.
I look inside the dungeon; it’s bare only for a large boulder that’s cemented into the ground. I point at the wall facing it.
“You stand there.” Ace moves to where I indicate, he will have a front row seat until it is his turn. I get flat nose to lean across the boulder. I watch her body tremble as I walk to the wall where all the instruments are hanging. I take down the whip and let it roll out. I have never held one before or used one for that matter. Excitement bubbles inside me. I experimentally strike out and whip the wall to get used to the feel of it in my hand; Flat nose lets out a squeal at the sound of the whip. My eyes move to Ace and now his eyes shine with hate. “Don’t take your eyes off her back,” I say and whip the ground again, this time only ten feet away from flat nose. She cries out, expecting the blow but not receiving it. I smile, now this is fun. I hit the ground again about eight feet away from her, she doesn’t cry out this time but her body trembles. Her hands grip the wood like it will save her or lessen the blows. I hit the ground a few more times, building up her fear and my own anticipation. My stomach flutters with excitement. I want to see what will happen when the whip connects with her flesh; will it pull lumps out of it, or just open the skin. I want to hear her beg me to stop; I want to hear her screams. My breathing becomes laboured thinking about it. I continue hitting the floor.
Her body shakes so hard now, but she can’t take much more. Her head swings back and her eyes burn into mine with pure hatred. “Just do it,” she screams, spit flicking from her mouth, her eyes widening with fear, with hate.
She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I admire how she is taking charge, especially under the circumstances. I pull the whip back and strike her with all my force. Her screams at the contact it doesn’t stop me from striking tagain, my heart is racing, and her screams are of agony. Her dress soon turns from cream to red; a thin slash from the whip runs from the neck to her back, all the way down to her waist. The smell of blood mixed with urine overwhelms my senses. Her sobs are too much, too painful, a reminder of my own at the hands of my father. I want her to stop, I need her to stop.
“Shush,” I whisper, covering my lips with one trembling finger. My own hysteria is growing as her cries fill the dungeon. The whip trembles in my hand, her sobs won’t stop. Stop, stop, my mind screams. But she won’t. I pull the whip back and strike her, sobs turn into screams. But I don’t stop this time, the rage inside me grows, and all I see is red as I continue to strike her in a frenzy. Tears pour down my face and I scream along with her at every blow. I can’t stop. I hate this world. I hate my parents. The whore who is trying to steal Nierra’s heart. I hate the way everyone looks at me. I hate being alone. No friends, no family, no one. Never, ever, anyone.
“Stop, you’re killing her,” the words assault my ears, and I turn the whip on Ace connecting with his face. A thin line cuts right across his right eye down to his chin, he falls to the ground screaming. My own screams cease and I fall to the ground in a heap, crying, fighting for air. Ace gets up, holding his face and he falls to his knees beside the lump of tattered flesh that lies across the boulder. It looks like a slaughtered animal. I can’t make out her shape; her hands hang limply as blood runs down her finger tips, merging with the pool around her. Ace turns to me, still holding his face, but red tears run down his cheeks.
“You killed her.” My panic rises as the words finally hit me. What will happen to me? I have never taken a life before. I try to stand but my legs give out.
“Help me,” I sob looking at the back of Ace’s head. He turns to me, shaking his head in disgust.
“Go to hell,” each word is bitten out through sobs of anger. It’s like a slap to the face. How dare he speak to me like that? He turns away, sobbing over the girl. My own tears have stopped and I finally stand.
“Marcus,” I shout loud enough so he will come.
My eyes shoot to the bloody mess as I wait for Marcus to arrive, but I look away, I need to stay calm. When he arrives I watch as he takes in the scene before him, his face losing colour. I wipe my tears away and hold my head high, running my hands over my dress. My movement draws his attention back to me. I take a deep breath.
“Look what you have done, I only told you ten lashes.”
“What?” He looks slightly surprised, but quick acceptance follows.
“Is it not your job to punish those who wrong the royal family?”
“Yes, Princess, but…”
“No buts, Marcus. You killed her.” I don’t look at her but Marcus does. Ace’s cries haven’t ceased. I want to shut him up and especially after the way he spoke to me, but I don’t have time.
“Clean up this mess and no one must know.” At my words Marcus looks back at me. A familiar look shines in his eyes, one I have seen a thousand times before. Hate.
“The boy?” he questions.
“I suggest you get rid of all of the evidence.” I take a step back, keeping my eyes on his face.
“Do you understand?” I ask. Marcus nods, looking back at the servants. I have to leave before I kill Ace; his cries are too much. I want to silence him, but instead I walk steadily from the dungeon and make my way back to my room.
Once I enter my room I sit on the armchair staring at my hands. Blisters have broken out from where I had held the whip, my mouth waters when I think of what I have done. A sob chokes from my throat and I cry for what I have done, for what I am capable of doing. Falling to my knees, I join my hands in prayer. “God, please forgive me.” I cry harder to the empty room, to the unforgiving God, to no-one. No-one. Never anyone. I meet my eyes in the full-length mirror. My hair has come loose from its clasp, my white dress has flecks of blood all over it, my face red, eyes swollen.
“Don’t look at me,” I snarl at my reflection, hating what I see. I crawl quickly on all fours until I am face to face with this monster.
“You killed her, you killed her!” Wide hysterical eyes shine back at me. I can’t stomach her anymore. I lash out with my fist and the glass cracks, multiplying the monster that stares back at me. I scream, my fingers dig into the glass, pulling it from its frame. Small pieces tumble into my lap. But I continue to pull, not wanting to see the monsters twisted lips, or its wide eyes. Blood runs across the glass, smearing the image. I stop pulling shards and run my bleeding hands across the glass until everything is red and then I start to scream, pulling my hair with bloody hands.
“Help me!!” I roar. “Help me.” My throat burns from the screams. I roar for a long time until the door opens. I turn to my mother, my hands outstretched. “Help me.” I sob.
She shakes her head in disgust then looks at my mirror and then back at me.
“You’re getting blood everywhere.” She turns away. “Corona,” she calls a servant in. “Clean her up,” is all she says and leaves, while I sit there trembling and feeling empty, so very empty.
CHAPTER THREE
THE FIRST MEETING
I stay in my room for a week, refusing food and refusing to meet the servant’s eyes as they come and go. The fire is lit at night, cleaned out in the morning; drapes open and close, food is brought and cleaned up. All the while I lie in bed refusing to move, refusing to speak. It is on the eighth day that my mother arrives to open the drapes herself. She moves to the end of my bed her nose crinkled as she stares at me, with her hands clasped, head tilted slightly. A look of pure annoyance is on her face.
“This has gone on long enough. Get up.”
I don’t move but look away from her. I can hear her sigh.
“Bellona,” her voice is stern, but I still don’t look at her.
“I shall get your father then.” My head snaps in her direction.
“No,” my voice is raspy, my heart pounds at the thought of my father.
She gives me a knowing smile. “Good then get up.”
Something in her voice makes me curious; my mother is excited, almost happy. My face cracks into a nervous smile, wondering what has made her so happy, but at my smile her face grows stern.
“Don’t smile, you look ugly when you do.”
My smile falls as my eyes shoot around the room, my cheeks blaze from the insult. Stupid Bellona. I scowl myself. I peek at my mother, she is frowning now.
“Today you get to meet your future husband. Saskia’s future King.”
My heart slams against my chest. Today Nierra will finally see me. I can actually talk to him. I would actually see him up close. No more watching him from a distance.
