My father’s grunt near my ear threw me back to the blankness of my mind. He seemed determined to continue until he found his own end. My body felt numb; a small trickle of tears rolled down my cheeks and onto the pillow.
When he finally finished with me, he laid beside me, out of breath with a smile. I blinked away a tear as I turned my gaze away from him. How could I ever bear the sight of him again?
My father, the man I had only wanted affection, acceptance, and love from had stolen everything from me. Now that he had stolen my maidenhead, I was as good as his forever. Not only as his daughter, but as a woman—a possible wife.
“You felt even better than I thought,” he murmured, filling the quiet space between us with his rough words.
I remained unmoving and silent as he sat up. As I closed my eyes, I was blinded with my crimson hatred for him. I would forever hate him for what he had done to me – stolen from me. My gut coiled as I tried to swallow back my bile. The sounds of his movements slowly pulled me from my thoughts. I listened as he adjusted his trousers and moved to his desk in the far corner of the room. After a long moment, his quill scratched against a piece of parchment and I knew this was my chance to get away.
With a deep breath, I sat up and grabbed the nearby torn nightgown. My thoughts were running madly against my brain: Why did this happen? What would become of me now?
I took my nightgown and slid it over my reddened skin. I held the scraps of the torn cloth in place, not wanting to reveal my sore flesh.
“You may go for now,” he said calmly, without looking at me. “Go clean yourself up.”
I could not bring my gaze to him. I knew no matter how many times I would bathe myself, I would never be able to take away the curse he placed upon my skin.
“But I shall call for you again, Aurelia,” my father snapped his fingers at me, causing my gaze to catch his for the briefest of moments.
I said nothing. I didn’t dare to speak in case the tears became too overwhelming to hold back. I would not let him see my tears.
Forgetting my shawl on the ground, I ran to the door and escaped into the dark coldness of the hallway. I ran as fast as I could towards my chamber. It was only after I found sanctuary behind my door, I noticed the bleeding between my legs. I knew everything from this moment forward would be different. The king would always be one step behind me, watching . . .waiting.
14
I stared at the floor for what felt like hours, listening to the soft flicker of the candle on the stand beside me. I couldn’t stop the trembling of my entire body no matter how tightly I wrapped my arms around myself. It seemed to be at war with itself and I couldn’t catch my breath. I had spent the entire night wide-awake, waiting for a knock on the door from my father. I feared his presence. I barely noticed the sunlight peeking through my window as the sound of a rapping jolted me from my thoughts. I gripped the edge of my bed coverlet and tried to find the courage to greet the unknown.
Would it be Lord Haven to bring me back to the king? Could I bear looking at him? Had he known about my father’s plan to take advantage of me?
“Princess, it’s me,” Myriah’s voice vibrated through the door as she slowly opened it.
I tried to speak to welcome her in, but no sound emerged. I remained seated on my bed as she appeared.
“Princess?”
The door opened slightly and I saw her peek inside. Her gaze found mine as she pushed herself into the room. With a look of concern and a wrinkled brow, she shut the door behind her.
“What’s happened?”
I felt her hands moments later as she brushed her fingers through my hair. I could only imagine what she thought as she examined me. The golden princess, now broken with a blood-stained nightgown and tear-stained cheeks.
“Has your season come?” Myriah asked with concern. She came to my side and touched my hands. “There is no need to cry, Aurelia,” she said with a soft laugh and shook her head. “I’ve certainly had many surprises myself. It happens to all of us. I’ll get the rags for you.”
Perhaps it was better for Myriah to believe this lie. How could I even begin to recount what happened to me? I watched as she opened the armoire, and pulled a clean nightgown from one of the side drawers. She turned with a smile and lifted it up for me to see. I could only watch her as my chin trembled. I could not tell her. I could not tell her no matter how close the words were from spilling from my mouth.
“Arms up,” she said gently as she came back to me and waited for me to obey.
My body would not listen to the simple command. My mind was screaming to tell her. I wanted to tell her. Would she think I had allowed him to take advantage of me?
“Princess?” Myriah touched my arm again. “Are you feeling alright?”
She brushed her knuckles across my forehead and her brow furrowed when she realized I had no fever.
“Perhaps I could draw a bath for you, and then a clean gown?”
I finally mustered a small nod. A bath would be nice. It would be comforting to clean myself of the remnants of his beard scratching; to wash away his touch and scent, to clean the parts of me that had been abused during his domination. This is not what I imagined for myself. I never anticipated my own father would take me to his bed. . . to force himself upon me. I didn’t understand; had I encouraged him? Had I somehow given him a gesture of permission? I watched as a few servants brought the wooden tub into the room along with steaming buckets of hot water. It was only after they were gone that Myriah came to me to help pull my stained gown over my head.
I avoided her gaze as I slipped into the warm water and sat silently. I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at my hands. . . my legs. . . the places where he had touched me. Myriah began to gently wash my hair; her fingers felt kind and comforting in the warmth of the bathwater.
“How was the ball? Was it to your liking?” she asked, breaking the silence between us.
Her fingers brushed against my scalp as she took the bar of rose lavender soap and continued to scrub.
I thought about the ball and the gentleman who danced with me. I thought about the gown my father had sent me; the dark blue threading, imitating the branches from a tree. The strong wine lingering on my tongue and my father. My father’s laughter, his smirk and his brooding eyes as he had watched me, danced with me. . . desired me. A shiver ran down my spine as I relived his teeth biting my shoulder, his grunt as he thrust himself into me. I turned my focus down to the water, a few tears rolling off my nose causing my reflection to ripple.
“Yes.” I murmured softly, lifting my hands from the water to hold onto the rim of the tub. I would do whatever I could to keep myself coherent; in the moment.
“And your father? Did he enjoy himself as well?”
I tightened my grip on both sides of the bath as I recalled his groans against my ear.
“I think so,” I replied with a shudder.
I could feel Myriah’s hands on my temples pause, and she tilted her head to look at me.
“It is good of your father to have taken such a liking to you,” she admitted. “But I still must caution you. He’s not well.”
“I know,” I murmured softly, nodding. “I know he’s not well, now.”
Myriah was quiet as she washed the soap from my hair and then knelt beside the rim of the tub. Her eyes stared into mine as she let out a sigh.
“I know how much it means to you to finally have a chance to bond with your father. And I know how you’ve always wanted the König and the Königin to look at you as much more than just a . . .”
Daughter. Girl. Nothing. I could tell Myriah was trying to be careful with her words as she continued.
“I know you’ve wanted nothing more than to be accepted and loved, and there is nothing wrong in wanting your father’s love. I’m happy that perhaps there’s a chance to remedy all the harm that has been done, but . . .” She bit her bottom lip as she patted my hand. “I just want you to be careful.”
My chin be
gan to tremble again as I turned my tear-filled eyes away from hers. I certainly had my chance and what had happened in his chambers had been the consequence of my longing. I had somehow allowed all of this to happen, and I was to endure any expectation my father might have. How was I ever to face him again? I wanted to lock myself away in my room.
“You are quiet this morning,” she wrinkled her brow, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
Myriah stood and began to dry her hands on her apron. I nibbled my bottom lip as I chewed back the words I so desperately wanted to say.
“I’m just tired,” I replied softly through gritted teeth. I lifted my hands from the rim of the tub and allowed them to sink back under the water. I felt almost as if I were no longer myself. I was no longer just Aurelia. I was a new person with skin I was no longer comfortable living in.
Myriah seemed to accept my answer and moved to my armoire again. She began to remove a few of the rags she set aside for my bleeds. Almost immediately, she paused, as if in mid-thought and turned to look at me again.
“Did you not just have your bleeding time, Aurelia?”
She seemed a little perplexed, but in truth, she was right. I had my time nearly two weeks ago. I sank deeper into the tub, looking away. She was quiet as she stared at me. I could feel her gaze searching my expression and I did my best to remain blank, to stare only ahead at the soapy water.
“I wish for you to explain the blood on your nightgown, Aurelia. I know there’s something wrong. I’ve felt it all morning.”
“It’s nothing,” I snapped quickly, glaring at her.
I could not bear to tell Myriah the truth and to know I was truly the one to blame. To know, without a doubt, what had happened was truly my fault. This was my shame and I would keep it to myself for as long as I could. There was no need to expose myself more than I already had at the hands of my father.
She tossed the rags back into the drawer of the armoire and frowned at me deeply, crossing her arms.
“Aurelia? Shall I call for a surgeon then?”
“No,” I said quickly and shook my head.
“Did something happen last night?”
I turned my gaze away and bit the inside of my cheek until I could taste the tang of my blood on my tongue.
“Did the König . . .” Her words drifted into silence as she stared at me.
I wanted to tell her I hadn’t permitted any advances from the king—not willingly. He had decided to take everything from me. He had seized any pleasure he could partake from me. He stole my only worth; my virtue. I was repulsed by his actions. My stomach twisted with knots of nausea from the images that pulsed in my mind. I gazed at my hands in my lap as I felt my face turn pale.
“What did he do, Aurelia?” Myriah asked more urgently. I remained silent and shook my head. I heard her let out a puff of air as she rapidly approached my side.
“If you will not speak, then I shall call upon the König myself.”
I knew Myriah would hold true to her word, and I quickly shook my head. I couldn’t bear to see him again—not so soon.
“There is nothing to say, Myriah. Nothing . . .”
“I don’t believe you,” Myriah replied stubbornly as she pushed her hands to her hips. “I have known you since you were a babe.”
I picked up the soap she had left on the side of the tub and began to scrub my skin roughly, causing it to turn a soft hue of pink with each stroke. Myriah lifted a towel from the side and stared at me.
“You know that I will always help you in all the ways I can. If anyone, even the König, has done something to hurt you, bitte. . . tell me.”
I continued to scrub my arms, keeping my gaze adrift.
“Did he force himself upon you, Aurelia?”
The question was startling, and it became harder to keep the truth inside. I swallowed and slowly began to nod and then a soft, gasping sob escaped from my lips. Myriah stood frozen for a moment and then slowly pressed her hand upon her lips and shook her head. I could feel the shame rising, filling me as I tried to reach out to her. She took my hand, kneeling beside me and pressed her lips against my fingers.
“Oh, Aurelia.”
“It’s my fault!” I gasped. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “It’s my fault!” I sobbed as I lifted my hands to my face. “I just wanted him to love me, but not . . .”
I felt Myriah’s arms wrap around me to hold me and I continued to tremble.
“. . . not this way . . .”
He haunted my mind and my senses. I could still feel the slide of his hand between my legs, touching my skin and kissing my lips. I could feel his beard against my cheek and chin, my shoulder . . . everywhere. Even in the safety of Myriah’s arms, my father was still touching me, taking from me and leaving me exposed—broken.
“My poor, beautiful girl . . .” she whispered against my ear and stroked my hair.
She stayed there, holding me until I pulled away at last. Grabbing the towel, she gestured for me to stand. I did so over wobbly knees, and was glad to feel the warmth of the clean towel around me. The little comfort it provided me was enough to allow her to guide me towards the bed, where she sat me down.
Myriah was careful in dressing me in a fresh undergarment and frock. She was only gone for a moment as she went to the door to call for a servant to tend to the fireplace. Not before too long, a large fire was given life and the two of us sat in front of it while she combed and dried my hair.
“What shall I do now?” I asked as I sniffled, breaking the thick silence between us.
Myriah let out a soft sigh as she lowered the comb from my hair. I looked over my shoulder and saw she too was just as lost and confused as I was. Perhaps it was wrong for me to hope for the possibility of a resolution. I hoped my true fate would not rest in the arms of my father.
“What if he does order me to marry him? What shall I do then?” Tears sprung to life again at the mere mention of him. The thought of him touching me again caused me to gag and wretch. Myriah came to my side and brushed her hand gently over my back while she lifted a clean basin for my use. I felt the sorrow and disgust pour from my mouth as I gasped for air.
Myriah held my hair back and waited until I had caught my breath. As I lifted my chin, she lowered the basin and wiped my mouth with a clean linen.
“There is only one thing you could do if he did wish for your hand. Which, I suppose now that he . . .” Her gaze turned back to mine. “All you can do Aurelia, is stall him. Barter against his wishes with your own. Tell him you’ll only entertain his whims if your needs are met and then demand something impossible for him to provide, which will in turn give you time to gather yourself, your things, and leave.”
“Run away?” I felt a surge of panic rise in my throat, tasting of acrid bile. The fear of the unknown charged through my veins; the mere thought of being on my own, without Myriah . . . Where would I go? What would I do? Everything and everyone that I knew and loved was here.
“What other choice do you have, my dear? Stay and become your father’s bride, or leave and start a new life away from him and the palace and . . .”
“And you,” I said as a tear rolled down my cheek. All of this was too real—too much. I suddenly couldn’t manage the thought of being without Myriah. Not after all of this.
“You and I shall meet again, princess,” she said with a reassuring smile. “You can be assured of that.” Myriah grabbed my hand and gave it a soft squeeze.
I nodded and turned my gaze back toward the firelight. I was not sure I could truly believe her promise. Nothing was certain anymore.
“What do I ask from him?” I asked faintly, more to myself as I tucked my legs underneath me. “What could possibly be impossible?”
“I’m sure you could ask for jewels.” Myriah suggested, but it seemed too easy.
My father had access to the best jewelers in the kingdom. There was not a rare diamond that he could not easily order.
“It’s too achievable.” I replied quick
ly, shaking my head.
“Every bride needs a new collection of gowns and a Königin would most of all,” Myriah suggested again, rubbing my shoulder. “A new wardrobe.”
“He could order for new gowns too, Myriah. This isn’t impossible!”
I looked at her confused as she gave me a tender smile. The light wrinkles on her forehead began to show as she beamed.
“Princess, think of it. You could ask your father for gowns created from things that are impossible to gather. Things only God, himself would have access to.” Myriah grinned more widely. “A dress made of the sun’s rays, so golden it should reflect the color of your hair.”
Myriah curled a finger around one of my damp ringlets with a smile. I couldn’t help to feel a small flicker of hope build inside of me. Myriah was right - impossible gifts would purchase myself some time to devise a plan of escape.
“A gown made of moonlight,” Myriah continued and giggled, “and a dress made of nothing but star dust. You know the König will agree to your requests as long as you consent to becoming his wife.”
“I could ask for a cloak made of a thousand furs,” I said, slowly nodding. “He had once said he’d do anything to have me stay with him.” My thoughts trailed to that evening and the shared dinner, which now felt so long ago.
“See?” she sang as she helped me up off the ground.
“I’m afraid,” I admitted hopelessly.
“I shall stay by your side,” Myriah replied reassuringly, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. After a silent moment, Myriah began pinning my golden curls back. My eyes focused on the embers in the hearth, glowing orange and red, as my lids gradually became heavy.
“Come, rest a while,” Myriah said as she guided me up off the floor. As she tucked me into the comfort of my bed, she hummed softly. “I’ll stay here a while,” she reassured me. I heard her bustling about my room quietly, until I finally eased into sleep.
15
A knock on the door jolted me awake. Sitting up, I peered around the sunshine filled room. I must have slept into the late afternoon. Myriah sat up in the chair she had been resting in and lifted a finger to her lips. Cautiously, she rose from her seat and motioned for me to stay where I was with a flick of her wrist. I responded silently with a quick nod as another knock echoed around us. She crept towards the door and opened it warily.
Allerleirauh Page 7
