by Eva Brandt
Little Dahud was strikingly quiet and peaceful as I washed her. I ached inside for the innocent babe. It would have been more merciful to let her die. Her soulmate would have eventually joined her in the world of the dead, and they would have found peace and happiness that way.
If we went through with this, that bond, the precious gift all human beings had been granted, would be stolen and lost forever, and I would be the main instrument performing the deed. I would be the one maiming Dahud’s very soul and that of another innocent, for my own self-interest.
Biting the inside of my cheek in anguish, I placed little Dahud on a clean cloth located in the center of the pentagram and knelt next to her, pressing my hands to the princess’s tiny chest.
“Mate in blood. Mate in flesh. Mate in spirit. Mate in magic. Mate in mind. I summon thee to this circle, to the aid of your other half.”
The substances in the bowls responded to my words, the effect as fast as it was frightening. The blood in the first receptacle—donated by Malgven—started to bubble and steam, like boiling water. The flesh in the second bowl—which the king had carved out of his own body—went solid, turning almost rocky in consistency. The queen’s moonstone necklace, an ancient heirloom of her family, dissipated into thin air, leaving no trace that it had been in the third bowl. The sacrifice of topaz burst into flames, taking the king’s seal ring, and the fourth receptacle with it. The amethyst in the final bowl began to glow, and with it, so did little Dahud’s favored toy.
“Answer my call,” I continued, already feeling the power accumulate, burning in my fingertips, “grant the gift of your blood, flesh, spirit, magic, and mind to your mate. In the name of the bond the gods have created, this, I command. This, I urge. Come and accept your fate.”
For a few seconds, the image of an indistinct figure flashed through my mind. A feeling of indescribable sadness and loss invaded me, followed by a deep, righteous fury. Two souls struggled against the enchantment that would sacrifice the bond between them and the life of one, to preserve the ephemeral existence of the other.
Despite their valiant resistance, they could not prevail. A bright flash engulfed the body of the young Princess Dahud, throwing me back several feet. It also healed her of her illness, but consumed the most precious thing she’d had.
When it was all over, Gradlon and Malgven rushed to their daughter’s side, only to find her unharmed and extending her little arms toward them. In their zeal to enjoy the realization that their beloved child was safe, they missed the shadow of malevolent magic that settled into Dahud’s skin.
I didn’t. In it, I saw the tears of two other parents, mourning the sudden loss of their own child, the child I had just killed. More than that, I saw a horrible curse, one that would follow Princess Dahud and all of her descendants into eternity.
We should have never done this.
Plans of a Princess
Dahud
Seventeen years later
“The kingdom of Kerys lies on an island reclaimed from the sea through the grace of the gods, as a gift to their people. Its capital city, the bustling metropolis of Ys, has been compared by foreign merchants with the great El Dorado.”
I listened to the tutor drone on with little interest, wondering why each of my geography teachers always felt the need to provide this introduction whenever they took over from their predecessors. I had lived in Kerys. I was its princess and sole heiress. Surely, they knew that I was familiar with such basic facts.
Maybe they thought I was an idiot and couldn’t process information because I was a woman. Anything was possible.
Despite the nonsensical nature of their behavior, I listened just as carefully as I always did and took notes whenever the tutor said something that seemed important. As words bloomed on the parchment in front of me, I wondered if my mother would have time for another of my more unusual lessons today. I hadn’t learned a new spell in ages, and while I practiced zealously and followed her instructions to the letter, I still believed I needed more.
“Princess Dahud,” Master Gwenol said, clearing his throat, “please pay attention.”
I tilted my head inquiringly at him, not understanding what he was referring to. “I was. Would you like me to repeat the last ten sentences you just said?”
I meant my words and would’ve been perfectly capable of fulfilling such an easy task. My tutor did not seem to realize it, since his face flushed and droplets of sweat started to bead his hairline. How odd.
“That won’t be necessary, Your Highness. My apologies for misconstruing your behavior.”
I accepted his words with a simple nod and gestured for him to continue his lecture. Before he could do so, the door opened and my father walked inside my schoolroom. Master Gwenol dropped to his knees. I stood from my seat and curtsied, as was appropriate considering my station.
My father shot me a quick, warm smile. “Dahud, you look lovely today. I am pleased to see you wearing the gown from your mother. Do you like it?”
Did I like it? What was it with my father and his odd questions? He knew perfectly well that I didn’t like it, per se. “It is comfortable and practical,” I answered. “I find the color and material appropriate for daily use.”
His soft expression faltered. He turned away from me and threw a glance toward the still kneeling tutor. “Gwenol, I see you have already embarked on the quest I assigned to you. Good.”
“I live to serve, Your Majesty,” Master Gwenol said, keeping his head bowed and his eyes on the floor. “Is there anything else your humble servant can do for you?”
“Not now, Gwenol. The lessons will be ending here today. You’re dismissed.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. Thank you, Your Majesty.”
The tutor shot to his feet and rushed to gather his things in a whirlwind of activity that would’ve probably amused me had I been inclined toward experiencing such trivial things. After bowing one last time, he fled the room. The door closed behind him with a deafening bang and a crack. The sound made me wonder if we should’ve crafted most of our furniture from something stronger than cedar.
Perhaps my father took note of the unavoidable damage as well, as he commented, “Gwenol is an odd one. Have you been enjoying his lectures?”
I didn’t find it unusual that he would continue with the questioning he had already started. What did he want me to say? Yes? That wouldn’t have been accurate, since I didn’t ‘enjoy’ much of anything. “Most of the time, they are informative, although he can get unnecessarily verbose and linger too much on things I’ve already learned.”
My response didn’t seem to please my father, as he furrowed his brow in a clear scowl. “I see. Well, if there is ever any issue and you wish to restructure your lessons, feel free to speak to him.”
“I understand, Father. Thank you.”
He offered me his arm and I silently took him up on his offer. “It’s such a nice day outside,” he explained as he guided me toward the door. “I was thinking that we could perhaps go for a walk.”
“Of course. It would be an honor.”
For a few minutes, no words were said between us. My father led me out of the schoolroom, through the half-empty corridors of our home. The only people granted unhindered access—other than our family, of course—were trusted groups of soldiers and servants. As we headed deeper into the palace, we ran into several guards, all of whom stopped to kneel in front of us. My father did very little to acknowledge them, and instead, kept walking, lost in thought.
We passed several marble columns decorated with intricate engravings that masterfully depicted battle scenes from my father’s glorious past, two portraits of my mother in all of her glory, and several of me. Finally, we reached the interior garden, my mother’s refuge and the place where she taught me the magical arts.
My father had not brought me here for lessons. I knew that even before he sat down on a marble bench and gestured for me to join him. “First of all, my daughter,” he began, “I want y
ou to know that I am very proud of you. You are everything I hoped you would be and so much more. Through your skill and determination, you surpass my expectations every day and I feel truly blessed at the knowledge that I am your father.”
“I appreciate the words, Father, but I am merely doing my duty to Kerys and our family.”
He scanned my face with a strange expression that I couldn’t hope to interpret. When he spoke again, he kept his voice carefully level, as if trying not to spook me. “Indeed. And so far, you have performed this duty admirably. However, there is another duty you have to fulfill. You are of age now, and you must take a husband.”
I had seen this coming. Truth be told, it was unusual that he had waited to arrange my marriage for as long as he had. In Rome, twelve-year-old girls could become brides, whereas I was already eighteen. It had been only a matter of time until I had to marry, as well.
“Tell me, Dahud, have you given any thought to a potential groom?” he asked. “Anyone at all?”
The latter question sounded out of place, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it. I didn’t pay it much heed, choosing to provide an answer, instead. “Well, I didn’t have a specific person in mind, but I do know what traits he should have, what I think would be appropriate for my husband.”
My father perked up at my response. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”
“First of all, for obvious reasons, he would have to be young and fit, a strong warrior, someone who would be able to handle my more unusual skills. He would have to be loyal and open-minded, as we do not want rumors of my true nature to emerge. He should also possess at least some degree of intelligence as we do not know which parent our children will take after and we do not want heirs who are daft.”
“Those are all excellent points, Dahud,” my father said gently. “Beyond that, you have no personal preference?”
I shook my head. Marriage was not about personal preference anyway, especially in royal families. It was about being practical and ensuring the continuity of the bloodline. A warrior would suit me well, since despite my physical strength, I was more inclined toward sorcery than hand to hand combat. I didn’t know much about couples, but the combination seemed to have worked out for my parents, so mimicking their model made sense.
“Very well then, my daughter. Here is my suggestion. We will hold a tournament, wherein all of our warriors can display their skills and strengths so that they can win your hand. At the end, you can make your final choice.”
The idea suited me perfectly. I would marry the person who won the tournament. There would be no bias due to idiotic, useless things like bloodlines or titles. I would have the warrior husband I needed and my father would have his heir. There was just one problem with the suggestion.
“I approve of the idea, mostly, but I would prefer a different approach. I think we should open the competition to everyone, including people from neighboring kingdoms.”
My father frowned. “Are you certain, Dahud? Such people can’t be trusted.”
“Not necessarily,” I replied. “Mother is a foreigner too and you did not always live in Kerys.”
“Well, I suppose I can’t argue with that. Clever girl.” My father chuckled. “Very well, Dahud. It will be as you wish it. I will allow foreigners to participate in the tournament, although I will be vetting them carefully.”
Not as thoroughly as I would be vetting them. I would have no one by my side that would not suit my ultimate goals. “I expected no less, Father. Is there anything you require of me in preparation for this event?”
“Do not fret, dearest daughter. We will arrange everything.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips over my forehead in a kind kiss. “We will always handle everything in your stead, just for you. Remember that.”
His cryptic words suggested that there was something important he might not be telling me. Then again, it didn’t take a genius to realize that I wasn’t a normal child, and not just because I was faster and stronger than seasoned fighters. My mother had always told me that I was a gift, that magic lived in my blood and my heart, but she had never truly explained what that meant, and I hadn’t really questioned it.
At the end of the day, did it really matter? My skills were useful and with my parents’ assistance, I was perfecting them and becoming stronger and stronger. My father might have claimed he’d handle everything for me, but if he actually believed that, he was only fooling himself. I would go on to be a powerful queen, and my husband was just needed to provide me with his seed. Once my parents died or stepped down from their thrones—which I could arrange, if it did not happen naturally—I would take over the country and that would be that.
I already had some ideas on how it could be ruled more efficiently. So many of the nobles were so lazy and corrupt that they were not worth the air they breathed. I couldn’t say I felt any disdain for them, but I did believe that they were dragging Kerys down. As soon as I was a little older, I would make sure they were no longer an issue. Then, I could move on from Kerys onto my more elaborate plans. I had a feeling the Visigoths had promise and the Franks might prove to be useful as well, with some good leadership.
Rome would collapse under the weight of its own mistakes eventually. It wouldn’t hurt for me to help it along.
In the meantime, though, the marriage would serve me well, and getting the whole pregnancy business out of the way early would free my time later for more important affairs.
With that in mind, I offered my father a tentative smile of my own. “I will remember. I trust you, Father.”
I couldn’t have said a bigger lie, but he didn’t seem to realize it. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close in a tight embrace that smelled like the sea breeze and cedar wood. “My little Dahud… I knew it was foolish to worry.”
I held him back, just as tightly. Anyone else might have perhaps felt guilty about the deception, but I wasn’t just anyone. I was Princess Dahud of Kerys, and as far as I could tell, I’d never felt a real emotion in my life.
* * *
Dahud
I didn’t remember the first time I understood my anomaly. It just wasn’t something one normally thought about. People didn’t wake up one day having an epiphany about being fundamentally flawed and lacking something everyone else took for granted.
I thought it might have been at age six, the first time I had killed a baby bird. I hadn’t done it on purpose. My magic had gotten away from me, and it had struck a small robin that had just been attempting to learn how to fly. Its body had landed at my feet, still twitching, and I’d knelt next to it and poked it with my index finger. I’d hummed under my breath as I’d watched it surrender to its unavoidable fate. “That’s interesting. I didn’t know death looked like that.”
My mother had pressed her hand to my shoulder and dragged me away from the body. “It’s all right, Dahud. Accidents happen. It’s not your fault.”
“It is,” I’d answered, “but that’s hardly relevant. The bird is dead now. We should feed it to the dogs.”
“You don’t want to bury it?” my mother had asked.
“Why? That would just be a waste of meat.”
My mother hadn’t argued with me and our hunting dogs had received the dead bird. But I’d noticed something on her face that day, something that had made me believe I’d made a mistake.
I tried for several years to figure out what that mistake had been. I didn’t suggest feeding the dogs again, ever, and I was more careful with my magic. My education progressed in leaps and bounds, and yet, I could still occasionally see the same shadow on my mother’s face.
The truth didn’t dawn on me until I was ten. My parents held a grand party in my honor, bringing jesters, bards and all sorts of entertainers to the feast. I’d watched the guests laugh and dance, praising the acrobatics, jokes and ballads of our performers, but I didn’t delight in any of it. I could objectively acknowledge the effort my parents had put into the celebration, and I found the meal satisfying in a p
hysical sense, but beyond that, there was nothing.
The idea should have filled me with panic, but I hadn’t experienced much except the desire to investigate my strange plight. I’d never found my answers. I had a feeling my parents had some kind of information on it, but it hadn’t been possible for me to ask them any questions about it.
Once I was queen and they were no longer an issue, I would do it, but for the moment, it wasn’t that relevant. My future husband could hardly expect me to love him or other such nonsense, when in all likelihood, he would be someone I hadn’t even met before.
Despite all that, I did find the whole business with the tournament intriguing and up to a point, even looked forward to it, insofar as I could ever look forward to anything, at least. The excitement that exploded in Ys after my father sent off the announcement almost made me think the town crier had cast a spell on the whole population, instead of simply giving them the message we had settled on.
“Two months from now, King Gradlon will be hosting a grand combat tournament for all the warriors in the land, both native to Kerys and from other parts of the world. The prize is the hand of the lovely princess Dahud. Warriors will be allowed to compete with a weapon of their choice.”
Within days, Ys was assaulted by throngs of would-be suitors. I was well aware that at least three-quarters of them were only participating because of my title and the position that came with being my spouse, but their reasons did not matter. I wouldn’t have cared about them even if I’d been able to. In this competition, strength was what took precedence and I would have the strongest warrior as my husband.
The day the tournament began, my mother burst into my quarters in a flurry of crimson skirts and restless magic. “Come now, my dear. We don’t have a lot of time at our disposal. We need to get you ready for the festivities.”
“Yes, Mother,” I answered calmly. I didn’t understand why she was panicking. The tailors had brought in my gown weeks ago. My discreet, but priceless, jewelry was already set out. All I needed to do was to actually put everything on. The process took more time than would have been ideal, but I would never be late for a tournament thrown in my honor.
