Princess Reviled

by Butler, J. M.

"He said…" The soldier swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing. "He said that animals do not deserve furniture. Only cages." He rubbed the back of his neck.

  Amelia's hands dropped to her sides. Was Vorec seriously escalating this so soon?

  The tension sharpened within the room.

  WroOth gave a short laugh, covering his mouth.

  "For what it's worth, I do not agree with the sentiment." The young man tried to look her in the eye and then dropped his gaze back to the cracked stone floor.

  "You think animals should have furniture? How reassuring," WroOth purred.

  Amelia reminded herself that these were not the soldier's words. He was only repeating a message. One he didn't even want to say. But that anger choked her once again, the bead of cold growing in her mind. She took a moment, seeking to draw the words out and push the emotion down. "Well…you can tell him that if he wants the chair, he can come down here and get it himself. But please tell him that if he does pursue this exceptionally petty course, I will finish breaking his face."

  The guard stared at her, blinking. "I have to…" he started to move.

  WroOth lunged forward.

  The chains on WroOth's wrists clanked against the bars, the overall movement far smaller than his momentum suggested. WroOth shook the manacles once more. "What do you think I'm going to do when I don't even have a single hand free?" He laughed, braced his arms against the bars, and climbed them.

  The young man's face grew redder. He gulped, glancing between Amelia and WroOth. "I have to take that chair. I don't want to disrespect you, your Highness."

  "Then leave." Amelia crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him. She resisted the urge to rub her elmis again.

  The Ayamin's brow furrowed. "Well, why not this. I'll take this chair up and give it to the elder commander. Then I'll bring you another. I'd go and get another for the elder commander, but he knows that this one has that mark in it." He pointed to the dark starburst in the chair's back. "He told me about it."

  Amelia arched her eyebrow. "No. Touch the chair, and I will break your hand. You saw what I did to the elder commander, I presume. He antagonized me, and I became angry. But even then I restrained myself. If I wanted to, I could have hurt him much worse."

  "Please, your Highness." He bowed his head, his tone becoming more desperate. "I do not want any further harm to come. Can we not have peace?"

  "That is not your concern. And don't you dare make another chair look like it's this one. You march right back up there and tell him that if he wants something from me, he is not to send anyone else. He can drag his broken body down these stairs for all I care, and I will give him his answer." Amelia positioned herself between the chair and the Ayamin.

  The Ayamin sized her up, his jaw tensing.

  From the back of the cell, Naatos lifted his hand. "That is my wife. You do not have my permission to touch her. Any part of you that comes in contact with her will be removed. Permanently."

  The young man paled as he returned his gaze to Amelia. "I apologize, your Highness. I agree the elder commander is being unduly harsh, but what am I to do? Can you not be reasonable?"

  "No! I'm done being reasonable. Now get out of here before I throw you out."

  The soldier backed away. When Amelia stepped toward him, he ran. His footsteps resounded back toward her.

  Amelia stopped just in front of the cell, her nerves raw and her frustration strong. The cold bead had not grown at least.

  A hand grabbed her head and pulled her back. "It isn't about the chair." WroOth pulled her up against the cell and grinned down at her, his face pressed against the bars. He had climbed them and was now braced against the metal. "You'll feel better if you tell your big brother all about it."

  "You said your hands were contained." Amelia twisted free. She rubbed her forehead and then her temples, a headache pushing against her consciousness.

  WroOth slid down the bars. "Hmmm. I suppose I lied. Or rather I implied it rather than said it. What a shock. Certainly not as much a shock as you breaking a chair over someone's head." WroOth tapped on the cell door. "I think you'll be wanting to let us out now."

  "No." Amelia continued to massage her temples. Neither Naatos nor AaQar had said much of anything since she came down. It didn't surprise her that AaQar had been silent. That was just AaQar. But Naatos…she could feel him watching her. Or perhaps it was her imagination.

  She glanced up.

  Nope.

  Not her imagination. Definitely not.

  A sharp spark like electricity passed through her. His eyes were so sharp they sliced through her as if he was the mindreader, and the intensity burning in them unnerved her even more. "If I let you three go, the first thing you'll do is kill more people who shouldn't be killed."

  "Not everyone, dear heart. We need you alive." WroOth winked at her.

  Amelia sighed. She probably should have let the Ayamin take the chair. It wasn't really that big a deal, and yet it felt huge. "Just be quiet, WroOth."

  "Or what? You'll break a chair over my head? That certainly won't work on me."

  Amelia used her foot to push the platter of meat further into the cell. "Since your hands are free, WroOth, help your brothers get their food if they need help. You've saved me figuring out one more problem."

  Naatos and AaQar held up both their hands as well, revealing that they too had worked through the coverings on their manacles that had shielded half their fingers and limited their motion. "Perfect," Amelia muttered. She pushed in some of the additional supplies that she had hauled down.

  "Tired, viskaro?" Naatos asked coolly. He shook his head. "You don't seem as…composed as you should be."

  Amelia ignored him and looked back at WroOth. "So seriously, how long till you're all immune to the drug and out of here completely?"

  "I'd say another fifteen seconds if you just took that key over there, put it in the lock, and turned."

  "Not happening. Just because Elder Commander Vorec and I are not getting along does not mean I will be condemning my people to death." She pushed through the last of the blankets. "At the very least, he and I have a better understanding of one another."

  "You mean he understands that that is your chair." WroOth picked up a piece of roasted meat and took a bite. He frowned slightly. "Crudon?"

  "I don't know what it is. I just cooked it." Amelia walked back to the chair. A little voice in the back of her head warned her that what she was contemplating was a mistake. But the frustration boiled inside her. And at the moment, she didn't care.

  The chair was fairly solid considering its age. Still, what was made could be broken. Picking it up, she slammed the chair against the floor again and again. The back legs broke first, splintering and rolling across the floor. Then the front legs. When all that remained was the back and the seat, Amelia hurled it against the wall and jumped on it before beating it against the floor until it too splintered.

  Adrenaline pulsed in her veins, but she smiled, pleased with herself. No one could have the chair now.

  She pushed her hair back from her face, rebound it, and then gathered the pieces of wood and stacked them neatly from largest to smallest. A couple times the top pieces rolled off, but she fixed them patiently before at last stepping back.

  "Well," she said, rising. "That's better." Turning, she realized Naatos, AaQar, and WroOth were all staring at her. "Problem?"

  "You do realize that you are escalating your conflict with the elder commander?"

  "Thank you, AaQar." Amelia climbed onto the table and sat. She moved herself into the lotus position and drew in a deep breath. Calming down wasn't a luxury, it was a requirement. That cold bead in her mind hadn't left, and things were going to spiral out of control again if she didn't do something. "I am aware of that."

  An awkward calm descended upon the dungeon. Amelia attempted to focus. The guilt, however, nibbled at her thoughts. As satisfying as this act had felt previously, this was most likely what Vorec had wanted. "Just eat
your crudon and stop judging me."

  "So what did happen?" WroOth tore off a piece of the fire-seared meat. "This isn't like you, so there's no sense pretending that it is."

  "Vorec was just trying to make me angry," Amelia said.

  "Apparently he succeeded," Naatos said dryly.

  Amelia flashed him a glare. "Yes, he did."

  "What exactly did he do?" WroOth asked, pushing the steaming platter of meat toward AaQar.

  "It doesn't matter."

  WroOth laughed. "Well, given that you beat him with a chair, I'm going to guess some part of it mattered."

  "If I wanted you to know, I would have told you." Amelia picked up a piece of the meat she'd saved for herself. It was tough, gamy, and definitely underseasoned. A knot lodged in her throat. She chewed and then swallowed, but that wasn't enough.

  There wasn't anything that she could do to make this better. Nothing that would make her feel better. If Uncle Joe had been there, he would have probably told her to go to sleep or eat more. And once he realized that she couldn't really do either particularly well, he'd likely have given her one of those father-figure lectures about the world and life and everything else.

  She closed her eyes. What was wrong with her? She was an adult. She should be able to set this aside. Yes, Vorec had attacked her, belittled her, mocked her. But couldn't she just put those words aside and remain focused? There were so many other things that needed her attention. She hid her face in her hands, focusing on her breathing, unable to take a second bite. This day needed to get better.

  Boots sounded on the staircase.

  6

  Which Nightmare?

  Amelia released a long tight breath. Vorec.

  Apparently it hadn't taken too long for the physicians to fix him up, but he had at least come alone. He wasn't going to arrest her, as she was almost certain that nothing prohibited a royal from beating a commander. Besides, if he had been able to, he probably would have arrested her already rather than sending that scared Ayamin down to get the chair.

  The footsteps drew closer, then stopped at the doorway.

  "Apparently, you are an animal," Vorec said.

  Amelia turned, arching her eyebrow. "Not at all. Animals do not use prison chairs because they have no use for them. Royals do not use them because they deserve better."

  Vorec sneered at her. His face was bloodied and bruised, slick with oils and medicine. A large bikro bandage had been fastened over his nose and cheeks, the flesh around the edges purpled and blackened. Blood still stained his well-trimmed beard, dying the white dark red. No shame dimmed his eyes or stooped his broad shoulders. "So you destroy what you do not require so that others who are in need may not be aided. You are a pampered little creature, aren't you?"

  "No." Amelia narrowed her eyes at him. "I destroyed that chair because I am enraged." She pushed off the table and sized him up. His posture was far more aggressive now, boldly set in a wide stance with his arms akimbo. Apparently she'd overestimated how much she had hurt him while in the cold. That fear of killing him was simply a fear.

  He eyed her with equal caution. "You had no reason to act like such a spoiled and petulant zethkik."

  "No reason?" Amelia echoed, her voice sharpening. "You struck me in the face, and then when we were in conference, you belittled, mocked, and derided me. When I tried to leave, you followed me. You grabbed me, you hit me. You insulted me. You have questioned my loyalty, my morality, and my destiny though I have done nothing to earn such disrespect. I am not some weak child whom you can intimidate with crude names and false accusations. There are consequences for crossing me. I am the Third Nalenth. Whether you like me or agree with me is irrelevant. I am your leader, and you will not defy me anymore. If you want the chair, you can take it. But I will break your bones in as many pieces as that chair if you disrespect me like that again."

  Vorec stared at her. His jaw and neck muscles clenched, the veins pulsing. "You think you can intimidate me with empty threats, whore?"

  Naatos strode to the edge of the cell nearest Vorec. "You called my wife a whore and a traitor. She broke your face. I have little doubt she could do it again and worse. But if you consider that to be an empty threat, be patient. I will be loose soon. You will wish for death long before it comes."

  Vorec gave a short laugh. "Keep hiding behind your whore, skinchanger. I will deal with you soon enough."

  "Why wait?" Naatos gestured to the key hanging on the wall. His eyes blazed. "Deal with me now."

  "That's enough!" Amelia shouted, stepping between Naatos and Vorec. "Now, elder commander, I am ordering you to leave."

  "I see what you are." Vorec leaned into Amelia's face. Blood had seeped beneath the bandages. His gamy breath struck her nostrils. "You are nothing more than an entitled blight that will soon become a cancer within our world. You think I can't see through you? Well I can. You pretend to protect my people, but you are on the skinchangers' side."

  "You need to leave this dungeon right now, or else I will make you." Amelia's voice shook with rage as she clenched and unclenched her fists.

  Vorec's lips curled. "Do you think I fear you? You are worse than the monsters because the monsters make no pretense of their intentions. You. You pretend that you care. You spend half a day walking around like you're the queen of Libysha, sewing up mangled warriors, men and women who have shed their blood for freedom. It would be so much better for Libysha if you were found dead face down in the sewage where you belong."

  "Get out of my face." Amelia ground the words out.

  "Are you trying to intimidate me, pinchat?"

  "I'm warning you."

  "Your only advantage before was that you used a coward's attack. If you decide to attack me again, you had best be prepared to finish it. You are nothing, Inale. A disappointment to the king. To the queen. A traitor to everything you were raised to be and love. Do you realize that Joseph had a perfect record? He succeeded in every task he was given. But apparently we overestimated him. The way you turned out is one failure that will wipe out every ounce of goodwill he ever—"

  The fury within her flared into vicious motion. Screaming, Amelia rabbitpunched him in the throat, drawing her fists back and forth in a rapid fire.

  Vorec fell back, clutching at his throat. He gasped in a ragged breath, eyes blazing into her.

  A dull click in Amelia's mind warned her that she was just playing into his plan. She should have analyzed what he had to gain from antagonizing her into fighting. What was the game here?

  But it was too late to think beyond that warning. The cold engulfed her. She lunged at Vorec, feigned to the right, and kicked him in the thigh. Grunting, Vorec fell back. He caught his balance on the wall and lunged for her. Amelia sidestepped the blow, turning her back to the cell. Vorec threw another punch. His follow-through was heavy, and he turned with the force of the blow. For several moments, she darted in and out as he threw punches and she avoided them, throwing false blows and ducking close to make sharp jabs to his back and sides.

  The pain thudded at the edge of the cold. Her knuckles and wrists throbbed, but it wasn't enough to make her stop. Amelia dropped to the ground to avoid his straight strike to her face. She then spun around, ducked under his arm, and punched him in the kidneys. Vorec snarled. He swung around, sweeping his fist down. It glanced over her shoulder. Amelia fell to the ground in a crouch and swept her leg up and around, connecting to the back of his knees.

  Vorec crashed backwards. Once again Amelia pounced on him. "You do not command me. You do not disrespect me. And you never ever speak against Joseph. Now get out of here!"

  "Beast," Vorec wheezed. "You see how she is."

  Amelia lifted her head to see who he was talking to.

  Kepsalon stood in the door, his expression drawn and taut. "I'm afraid that your Ayamin were not here to witness this. And we Machat will tell the full truth of what happened here if you should decide to press this."

  Vorec swore. Three more Machat appea
red from behind the stone arch and helped him to his feet.

  Kepsalon lifted his chin, his eyes fixed on Vorec. "There are far better uses of your time than seeking to trap the Third Nalenth. Continue down this path, and you will find that no good ending exists for you." He nodded to the three young Machat. "Take him back to the infirmary. See to it that he remains there for the night."

  Vorec muttered protests, but Amelia could not catch them. The cold evaporated from her as the pain increased. Though adrenaline rushed through her veins, a queasy nausea rose within her. "I should have been smarter than that," she said.

  "Yes." Kepsalon nodded slowly. "You were not wrong to defend yourself, but you must be wiser in your dealings with the elder commander. Though given that you have beaten him three times now, it seems likely that he will shift his tactics. He'll try to make you betray yourself to permit a more public and final solution." He glanced at the brothers and returned his focus to Amelia. "Take some rest. This is just beginning."

  Amelia rubbed the back of her neck. Her fingers were stiff now, and the pain rushed through her, increasing like a scream.

  She closed her eyes. I'm better than this, she thought.

  Slowly she wiped her aching hands on her dirty gown. Then she got behind the table and pushed it up against the doorway. As there was no door, this would have to do.

  "So what exactly are you doing, little sister?" WroOth's voice remained amused though it had taken on a cautious undertone.

  "This is getting out of hand, and I need to make sure that it doesn't get worse," Amelia said.

  "So you are putting a table in front of the door." WroOth frowned slightly, a smile tugging at his mouth. "Really? Why do that?"

  "Because I can use it to keep them from coming down here like a pack of lemmings waddling to their deaths." Amelia shoved the table again, but winced as she struck one of the bruises on her forearm.

  "I hope you remember that you can't kill," WroOth said.

  "Not me! You three. If anyone else gets within reach of this cell, you're going to kill them, aren't you?" Amelia spun around, glaring at them.