Princess Reviled

by Butler, J. M.

  All warmth left with the royal retinue. Amelia kept her head up even as the cold stares closed in upon her.

  The palace no longer seemed like home. None of the faces were familiar. Shon and Matthu had probably accompanied Linufe to the meeting with their allies. And that was for the best. Those friendships had ended.

  A great weight pressed against Amelia, tugging at her shoulders and head. She returned to her room, choosing the back staircase so she could avoid as many people as possible. Then her ear caught the voices of women talking on the level below.

  "Did you see her?" a servant asked. She leaned in to speak to a few other women who had gathered. The curvature of the ceiling amplified their voices, allowing them to bleed through the openings in the wall and to the staircase.

  The servant with the periwinkle striped apron shook her head, shifting the large water jug higher on her hip. "Did you see what she was wearing? Didn't even care enough to wear something appropriate."

  Amelia frowned, uncertain how this dress was wrong.

  "What did you expect? I don't even think she is the princess. She's with the skinchangers anyway. Maybe she's one herself." The woman in the grey dress with the coral and silver bracelet sighed. "The poor queen. Has she not suffered enough?"

  The first woman nodded, her lips pressed in a thin line. "No one here will be safe until those skinchangers are executed."

  "Hm. And after what she did to the Trapadonian's son, they should throw her in the dungeon for good measure."

  "She's too dangerous. Even if she is the princess, what are they letting her run around loose for? She's cursed! That doesn't just go away 'cause you get older. It gets worse."

  "She's a pinchat for certain."

  "I heard all three of the skinchangers are her lovers."

  "There's no doubt. You saw what she did for them. Wouldn't let my Urim anywhere near them. He could've made them pay for all our pain. At least a little. But she wouldn't even let him in the dungeon."

  "Disgusting."

  "This so-called marriage is just to save face. She can't even make up her mind about what it is. If you don't want to be in a marriage, it's not as if you don't have choices. There's always annulments."

  "They're all animals." The woman with the periwinkle-striped apron gave a disapproving shake of her head. "You know she'll betray us all. It's just a matter of time. While our people were out dying, she was getting married. That one can't really be the princess, though I wouldn't wonder that she's cursed."

  "What do you think happened to the real princess?"

  "Who can say?"

  "I think she is the princess."

  "Well if she is, then she's a grave disappointment. To think the king and queen took her in and gave her all that they did, and now look at her. It was bad enough she was cursed! Now she's a pinchat and a zethkik."

  "Perhaps the skinchangers will kill her for us."

  One of the women laughed. "Maybe they'll eat her. It'd serve her right."

  More laughter followed.

  Amelia remained motionless, her hand resting on the balcony railing. A knot formed in her throat. Each sneer dug deeper, settling in like poison-tipped burrs. Why had she been so eager to return to this place?

  "Your Highness?" A young Ayamin stopped at the bottom of the staircase.

  The women fell silent, their gaze snapping down and then up. Amelia narrowed her eyes at them and then slowly turned. "Yes."

  The Ayamin looked like a new recruit judging by the lack of tailoring in his uniform. The trouser legs were a touch too long and quite wrinkled. He ascended the staircase until he reached the landing just below her. His cheeks flushed, he bowed deeply. "Elder Commander Vorec asked that you be informed that the albino Vawtrian has not moved since the night before. He has not touched his food or his water."

  Alarm spiked through Amelia. Her hand fell from the balcony. "Why? Do they know what's wrong?"

  "I do not know anything else," the Ayamin said.

  "Where is the elder commander?"

  "In the Great Hall." The Ayamin bowed once more.

  "Thank you." Amelia hurried back down the staircase, not caring how this most likely confirmed what the servants thought of her. Something serious had to be wrong with AaQar. The concern overwhelmed almost everything as she quickened her pace still further.

  Vorec had assembled with several of the older Ayamin in the Great Hall. They stood near the fireplace, deep in conversation. Given the number of deaths, there had probably been a significant number of field commissions. Amelia vaguely remembered some of the assembled men but could not recall their names.

  As she entered, Vorec looked at her. A smug satisfied expression rested on his patched and broken face. He no longer wore as many bandages. Already he looked significantly better. Almost as if the beating had occurred two weeks ago rather than the other day. He lifted his hand, motioning for her to be silent.

  Amelia pressed her lips tight. The conversation continued between the men, discussions of numbers and Ayamin and locations and needs. Though her discomfort grew, Amelia kept her arms at her sides and her shoulders straight. She would deny Vorec every victory she could, especially the victory of getting under her skin and making her lash out in public.

  None of the other Ayamin even glanced at her. It was as if she did not exist. The minutes ticked by. One of the bearded Ayamin with thick curly hair presented a proposal for staffing the outposts on the northern and western borders. Another suggested rerouting trade supplies.

  Amelia fought the urge to interrupt, but given what she needed to ask, aggravating Vorec was not the best solution. She stewed over all that had happened, her mind returning repeatedly to AaQar and what she had observed and heard. The thought that he might be dead alarmed her far more than it should have. Maybe it was just because he was one of the few semi-friendly faces left to her in this place, particularly now that the Machat had gone. She almost laughed at that thought. AaQar was a friendly face? The weariness spread through her as she realized the truth in that.

  At last, Vorec dismissed the assembled Ayamin. "I am glad to see that you are capable of some manners," he said. "Was there something in particular you needed to address with me, Amelia?"

  "Yes," Amelia said, keeping her voice as calm and even as possible. "I have been informed AaQar is not doing well."

  "And let me guess? You want to give him medical attention? I'm afraid that's impossible. Two of the attendants who attempted to offer the prisoners food in return for good behavior were found dead this morning. One of the Paras was trying to break his bones into a pass key. Or as he put it, a skeleton key." Vorec smiled thinly. "They will be receiving no further comforts or necessities."

  Amelia resisted the urge to point out that she had warned them of the risk of death. "Then let me do it."

  "The king's orders are clear that you are not to enter the dungeon."

  "I know. But I am asking that you make an exception. That is within your power. Or if you don't feel comfortable with that because of what the people think of Naatos and his brothers, then dispatch a messenger to the envoy to receive authorization. If AaQar dies, then we cannot restore the Tue-Rahs."

  Vorec nodded. The satisfaction in his expression remained apparent though it made his features seem all the harsher. "Perhaps. But first, you will apologize for your disrespectful conduct in the temple."

  "Excuse me?" Amelia raised her eyebrows.

  "The king insists it is simply a part of your nature, but that does not mean you aren't responsible for it. The way that you behaved in the temple was beyond reprehensible, and you must admit to that. Therefore, if you want me to consider your request, you will apologize for everything."

  Amelia's cheeks burned. "All right," she said slowly. "I regret my actions and that you felt disrespected. I am sorry that I lost my temper."

  "Yes. And it was not something that inspires trust within anyone who might depend on you." Vorec smiled as if he had given her a good bit of advice. He
swaggered back to the head of the table. "If you have truly learned your lesson, then I may forgive your indiscretion. It can be hard for someone such as yourself to control her animalistic impulses, but so long as you are on Libysha's side, I accept you. Now then." He cleared his throat. "It is true. The white Vawtrian has not touched anything that you put out for them the other day. Indeed, he hasn't moved at all. The other two have made their opinions known, and they are exceedingly hostile."

  "We need AaQar alive. We need all of them alive." Amelia gripped the back of the nearby chair.

  "If it is Elonumato's will that this one live, then he will live. I will not change the king's command."

  "But—" Amelia started.

  "It's simply a matter of faith. Or perhaps of fate." Vorec picked up a whetstone from the table and turned it over in his hands. "But I will shed no tears when that one perishes. I hope the others follow suit. If they do not begin cooperating, they will die soon enough. Not that anyone will mourn them. In truth, the white Vawtrian may already be dead. If he isn't now, he will be soon. That cell is going to reek within a matter of days. It's almost fitting, don't you think?" Removing the deep notched dagger from its sheath, he ran it along the pale grey whetstone. The following shikh shikh grated on Amelia's nerves. "I did dismiss the guards though. There is no need for them. Those three won't be going anywhere, and it is not as if we have to worry about anyone sneaking down to help them." He gave Amelia a knowing glance. "Do we?"

  Amelia nodded, her jaw set. "I don't think anyone else here cares whether they live or die."

  "Even if someone did care, it wouldn't matter. Anyone caught helping them is acting in violation of the king's direct orders. That means that person would be dragged out into the courtyard, publicly humiliated, and then thrown into a cell for the night. The following day that person would be put on trial to determine what additional punishment is required. Back in King Ceron's and King Barlen's reigns such individuals would be flogged. It might be worth bringing back. People generally aren't willing to risk such agony for loved ones. And especially not for their enemies."

  Sickening bile rose in Amelia's throat. She struggled to keep her expression neutral. "Thank you for letting me know," she said, stepping back. "I won't take up any more of your time." She started toward the door.

  "Oh, Amelia," Vorec called as she reached the archway.

  Amelia turned.

  "It's so reassuring to know where your loyalties lie." Vorec smiled, continuing to sharpen the dagger. "King Theol is right. After this, there will be no question in anyone's mind. Not even his."

  An Alternative

  The threat could not have been more obvious. Amelia kept Vorec's gaze, refusing to blink. "I guess one of the benefits of being a mindreader is I never have to wonder about people's loyalties or plans. It's all as clear as the writing in a book." She twitched her shoulder as if to shrug and smiled. "Some people are more obvious than others. Even when they think they're being subtle. Have a good day, elder commander." Then, head high, she left the Great Hall.

  As she walked away, she felt Vorec's eyes boring into her back. No matter what he said, the dungeon would be guarded. He just wanted to catch her in obvious defiance. And this time the Machat weren't there.

  Kepsalon had warned her Vorec would be sly. This was probably about as sly as he got in political entrapments, but that didn't mean it wasn't effective. If she set one foot in that dungeon, she would be finished.

  But AaQar…

  Amelia closed her eyes, drawing in a shuddering breath once she was beyond Vorec's sight.

  She had seen the signs. AaQar had denied them, but they had been there all along. A gradual decline and increase in pallor and decrease in energy, even with the giddiness of the huanna. Perhaps the huanna had further damaged him?

  Help me get there in time, Elonumato, she prayed. Help me know what to do.

  She circled back from the Great Hall and made her way toward the dungeon's outer entrance. It was overshadowed by the large circular towers with watch posts at regular intervals. No one walked beyond the parapets, but a glint of metal caught Amelia's eye from one of the narrow slits in the stone above.

  Amelia pretended to be fascinated by the ivies growing along the palace wall. As she plucked a dead leaf, she confirmed that a guard was hidden above, armed with a bow and a steel-tipped arrow. That was one. How many would Vorec have stationed?

  She continued grooming the ivy, stroking the strands and removing damaged leaves. A second archer was hidden within the crook of the arch above. A third farther down and to the left.

  The bars within the cell below rattled, and WroOth's voice rose above the banging. "When we are free, you will all be destroyed. Your bones will be crushed to powder. Your flesh burned to ash. You will all pay with your lives! The Machat were to be the first annihilated, but now it will be you." More pounding sounded, the metal ringing and grinding as WroOth continued to spew threats and curses.

  Amelia plucked more leaves as she made her way closer to the windows of the dungeon. She took care to avoid the dungeon's outer exit. There were sure to be more guards focused there. The half-circle windows from the dungeon to the courtyard did not connect to the cells directly, but at the right angle, she might be able to glimpse AaQar.

  The brothers were still in the cells as she had placed them. Naatos's cell remained out of sight since she had left one empty cell between him and WroOth. AaQar's, however, was visible from this point. He lay on the bed just as she had left him. The blankets hadn't even been stirred.

  WroOth, however, made up for AaQar's silence, cursing, yelling, and flinging himself against the bars. Blood covered his hands and streaked his face. A few of the bars had bowed beneath the pressure. "You will all pay a thousand times. A hundred thousand times. I will delight in your ruin and your misery as you wither into forgotten memories. I will build my throne from your crushed bones and paint it with your blood and tears."

  A frightened chill spread through Amelia. If this was what WroOth was doing, what about Naatos? Her dread grew.

  As she plucked at the ivy, Amelia kicked the metal bar on the window with her heel. "I think you've said all that needs to be said, WroOth." She did not dare say it too loud.

  Silence followed.

  Amelia continued past the window and plucked out more dead and damaged leaves. She let them drop to the ground and spoke softer now. "AaQar needs help. It will come. Elonumato will provide. So be quiet and don't bleed out."

  A soft chuckle rose from the cell, more alarming than the shouts. "Better hurry, little sister. I want to kill."

  The hairs on Amelia's neck prickled. She plucked a few more leaves and then adjusted the flowers in the large clay pots, pretending to be calm. Meanwhile her mind raced. WroOth's silence unnerved her more.

  She hurried back to her room, flipped open one of the Neyeb books and searched for the section she had been reading the night before. It seemed relatively simple, and it might be enough to resolve the problem with the guards. Her stomach somersaulted as she ran her finger under the lines of text. Essentially, this technique required finding a person's memory and then creating additional images and scenes from that memory to convince the person to do what she wanted and that it was in alignment with what they wanted or needed to do. The closer it was to the original memory or thought, the easier it was to manipulate. While the imprinting was forbidden, minor impressions and even strongly enforced guidance through memory manipulation was permitted.

  Amelia cleared the bed then and made a list. She coded it so that no one could read it if they found it. Then she slipped to the infirmary and larder to get dried herbs, cleansing ointment, and berries along with a few other supplies and request a hearty bone broth be sent up within two hours.

  All in all, the plan did not take much time to put together. Most of it was focused on going over the instructions for the minor impressions and enforced guidance over and over. Her heart hammering and her palms sweating, she finished pre
parations in her room, secured the curtains, and returned to the dungeon's inner entrance.

  Given how small this area was, Amelia suspected Vorec would only have a single guard at this point. The outer entrance was the safer and more accessible one for an escape, and so that was the one he would focus on.

  She passed beneath the arch and listened closely. All was still. The door set into the fifth panel of rock opened to a small staircase that led to some of the inner walkways. At the top on the narrow landing stood the guard. He started when the door opened, but he did not point his weapon at her.

  "Your Highness." He bowed his head, his thick blond curls flopping with the movement. "Do you require my services?"

  Amelia smiled. She walked up the staircase, keeping her manner calm. The young man was at least courteous. She brushed her thoughts over his, taking care that her wrist elmis were directed at him as she held out her hands. Then she asked, what is your name? The response floated to her mind at once. "You are Dian?"

  He nodded, his posture becoming more guarded. "Is there some way in which I can help you, your Highness?"

  Amelia brushed her thoughts over his once more. The movement felt clumsier this time as she set her intention. "Do you remember what the king said about who was to go to the dungeon and who was not?"

  Dian nodded. He rested his hands on his belt above the engraved silver buckle. "Yes."

  "The Ayamin and attendants are allowed to go down there, yes?" Amelia asked. She came to a stop just in front of him, her gaze fixed on him firmly. Despite the clumsiness of the sensation, it was not quite as hard as she had feared.

  "Yes," Dian said again, slower this time.

  "And I am not to go down into the dungeon."

  "I'm afraid not, your Highness." Dian bowed his head and put his arm over his chest. "Please forgive me, but I cannot permit you to enter the dungeon without raising the alert. And if you attack me, I must—"