by Amy Tintera
The door opened, and a dark-haired girl stepped into the room.
“Jovita!” the queen exclaimed. “I’m glad you could join us.”
Em took a long look at the king’s niece. She was second in line to the Lera throne. Though she was around the same age as Em, something about the way she carried herself made her seem much older. She was a little shorter than Em but still had a formidable look about her. Her shoulders were broad and strong, her arm muscles rippling beneath her thin gray tunic every time she moved, and she didn’t smile much, though Em didn’t think it was because she was unhappy. She just seemed like the kind of girl who didn’t smile simply to make others feel comfortable.
“I thought I’d stop by and see how our new princess is settling in.” She strode across the room to the tray of fruit and popped a grape in her mouth. Em frowned. It would be very difficult to get to her weapon of choice with Jovita standing in front of it.
“Perfect timing. She’s about to try on the dress.” The queen gestured to the maids and one of the women scurried away, returning with a pile of blue material so high it almost covered her face.
“If you could take your clothes off, please, Mary,” the queen said with a wave of her hand.
One of the girls began unbuttoning her pink monstrosity, and Em ducked her head to hide her flaming cheeks as the dress fell to the ground. Perhaps these women often undressed in front of total strangers, but Em had never been in her underwear in front of anyone but her mother and sister.
“We’ll take your measurements and have some more clothes brought to you,” the queen said as the girls took away Mary’s dress. Em detected a hint of disdain as the queen examined the garment. She was suddenly very fond of it.
The girls held open the blue dress for Em and she quickly stepped in, eager to be covered again. The fabric was cool and smooth against her skin, and it flared out from her waist extravagantly. The ruched bodice hugged her torso, and a beautiful chain of beads wrapped around the waistline. It was elegant in its simplicity, and Em gingerly touched the soft fabric.
“Oh yes, that’s lovely.”
Em looked up to see the queen standing next to the mirror. She stepped in front of it and her reflection stared back at her. The dress was even more stunning when she could see it in its full glory. It was the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen. Olivia would have clapped and done a happy dance if she’d been there.
Tears pricked her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said as one slipped down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away.
“You wish your mother were here?” the queen guessed.
Em nodded. The real Mary probably would have cried for her dead family too. Perhaps any girl in this situation would have cried, regardless of the status of her mother. She had to marry Casimir, after all.
Cas. The name made her insides clench. They’d barely spoken yesterday, and she really hoped he planned to ignore her entirely. His parents had arranged this marriage; maybe he had a girl somewhere who he loved, and he would pretend Em didn’t exist.
When she’d concocted this plan, she’d known, in the back of her mind, that she’d have to deal with the wedding night. Sex was generally expected immediately following a wedding, which meant that tomorrow night she’d have to be in Cas’s bed. She’d never been in anyone’s bed.
She just wouldn’t think about it. She still had another day until the wedding, and pretending the issue didn’t exist seemed the best course of action.
Perhaps she’d focus on her plan to kill him instead. She needed Cas, at least for a little while, but she hoped to dispose of him before leaving Lera. She’d kill him before the king and queen, so they could experience a bit of the pain she’d felt when her family died.
“I’m sorry,” Em said, trying to compose herself. “I love the dress.”
“Of course you do,” the queen said. “I have excellent taste.”
Em laughed despite herself, which earned a smile of approval from the queen.
The women took some measurements and put pins in the garment, then helped Em out of it.
“Have you spoken to Cas much since arriving?” the queen asked as Em slipped the pink dress back on.
“Only a little,” Em replied. If him saying hello to her yesterday at dinner counted.
“Don’t worry, you’ll warm up to each other soon.” The queen’s lips twitched, as if she was thinking something she didn’t want to share. “Have you been told about the Union Battle?”
“Not that I recall,” Em said carefully, not sure if Mary was supposed to have that information. A maid pulled her dress tighter, trying to button it, and she sucked in a breath.
“It’s a traditional part of a royal Lera wedding,” the queen said. “The royal’s intended battles someone of his or her choice for the entertainment of everyone. With dull blades, of course.”
Em tried to hide a smile. That sounded exactly like her kind of wedding festivities.
“The point is to prove your worth and skill in battle,” Jovita said. “I, for one, am looking forward to it. You know, the queen beat the captain of the king’s guard at her battle. It was a very tough choice of competitor, and she demolished him. Everyone still talks about it.”
“Jovita, stop,” the queen said lightly. “You’ll make her nervous.” She patted Em’s hand. “You’re allowed to pick whomever you want, dear.”
The condescension was so thick Em almost laughed. It was just like the Lera royal family to think they had everyone beat.
“I was ordered to kill the Ruined king in order to marry Cas. You don’t think that proved my worth and skill in battle?” Em lied, swallowing down a wave of nausea. Mary murdering her father had been nothing more than a test to these people.
“Then I guess today won’t be a challenge at all,” Jovita said. Her smile didn’t falter, but her eyes flicked to the queen’s.
“Are you done?” the queen asked the maid who was fastening the last button. “Let’s call for Cas.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Em said quickly.
“We’ll just have him escort you back to your room,” the queen said with an amused expression. “He can’t avoid you forever, after all.” She told one of the maids to fetch him.
Em sighed and ran a hand over her hair. A glance in the mirror confirmed that she appeared tired and pale (and utterly ridiculous in the too-small pink dress), and she hoped Cas found her exceedingly unattractive.
The door opened only a few moments later to reveal Cas, wearing an expression like someone was poking him in the back with hot knives. He appeared angry, bored, or both. He glanced at her briefly but said nothing, and she shifted uncomfortably. She suspected he made everyone uncomfortable.
But he was handsome in a way that was hard to ignore, unfortunately. He had his father’s dark hair but his mother’s blue eyes, and together the effect was striking. The king had an olive complexion much like Em’s; the queen had slightly paler skin. Cas fell somewhere in the middle, his skin tanned from the constant Lera sun. He wore a thin white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and she could see muscle definition through the material. She quickly averted her gaze.
“You requested my presence, Mother?” When he finally spoke it was stiff, almost angry.
“I thought it would be nice if you escorted Mary back to her room. We’ve finished fitting her wedding dress.”
Cas didn’t glance at Em for even a moment. “Of course.”
“Lovely talking with you, dear,” the queen said. Jovita smirked, obviously still pleased with herself for throwing the new princess off balance.
Em murmured a polite reply as she stepped away from the mirror. Cas extended his arm out to her, and she took it, trying not to grimace at the contact.
Cas turned to the door so suddenly that Em almost stumbled when he tugged her forward. She grasped his arm tighter, quickly regaining her footing before she embarrassed herself by falling down at his feet.
“How was your journey to Lera
?” he asked as he steered her down the hall.
“It was fine, thank you.” Honestly, she was exhausted and her body still ached from days on the back of a horse. After her meeting the Lera guards at the border, it had taken several days to get to the castle with that stupid heavy carriage in tow.
“And your rooms are adequate?” he asked.
“They’re very nice.”
He nodded once, and then didn’t attempt any further conversation. Em didn’t know whether to be relieved or think he was incredibly rude, so she kept her mouth shut as well.
Two guards and one maid passed them in the hallway, and she eyed the swords at the guards’ hips. Disarming a member of the Lera guard wouldn’t be easy. She’d probably have better luck yanking a rope off the curtains and using it to strangle Cas. Strangulation took awhile, so she’d have to pull him into a deserted room or corner for at least a full minute.
He stopped in front of her door, and she slipped her arm out of his. “Thank you,” she said, grasping the door handle.
“You’ve been told about the Union Battle this afternoon?” he asked.
“I have. Sounds like fun.”
He lifted one eyebrow, a hint of amusement crossing his face. “I’m glad you think so.” He lowered his voice. “I have it on good authority that one of the guards drank too much last night and isn’t feeling very well today. He has a red beard and a lot of freckles, if you’re looking for an easy choice.”
She blinked, unsure if this was some kind of trap. “Am I supposed to want the easy choice?” The queen and Jovita had just given her the opposite impression.
“Well, it will make you look good.” He took a step back. His face was far less annoying when he smiled. “I won’t tell, I promise.”
“Th-thank you?” This felt like a trick. King Salomir seized every opportunity to prove Lera was the best, and it seemed this was no exception. They wanted her to fail so they could all laugh about her lack of skills in battle.
The edges of Cas’s mouth twitched, further convincing her that this tip was his way of trying to embarrass her in front of everyone.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She wrapped her fingers around his arm and gazed at him steadily. “How kind of you to help me.”
He took a step back, clearing his throat. “Uh, sure. I’ll see you later.” He turned on his heel and strode down the hallway.
She smirked at his back. He was going to have to work much harder to fool her.
FOUR
THE UNION BATTLE was held in the Glory Ballroom, which Davina explained to Em was the smallest of the three ballrooms. It was still impressively big, with a square wooden floor in the center and purple carpet along the sides. Members of the guard were already lined up along the walls, and spectators stood in front of them. The only chairs were the large ones at the front of the room that were obviously for the royal family. The kitchen staff was outside, ready to bring in food and drink after the battle.
Em had changed into black pants and a formfitting black shirt for the occasion. They were her own clothes, and she stretched her arms out with a relieved sigh, the soft fabric moving with her.
Swords hung off the hips of every member of the guard. There were fifty guards in the room, easily. Even if she surprised one and took his sword, she’d probably kill one or two—at most—before they cut her down. She swallowed and tried not to think about it.
She found Aren in the crowd. He seemed calm, his expression neutral as a guard said something to him.
His brown eyes were bright, though, alive in a way Em hadn’t seen since . . . ever, actually. A Ruined was fueled by the energy around him or her, and in Aren’s case, the energy of every human in the castle. After a few weeks he’d probably be able to crush the bones of ten men before his energy was drained. That was the hope, anyway.
Various maps hung on the walls. She stood on her toes to peer at the one closest to her. It was dated around the same time as the war between Lera and Olso two generations ago. All four countries were on this map—Lera to the east, Vallos just below it, and Olso to the west of Lera. To the south of Olso was her home, Ruina.
It seemed unlikely they’d just write Olivia on a map to advertise her location, but she squinted at it anyway, just to be sure. She moved to the next one.
“Mary!” The queen stood in the doorway of the ballroom, an annoyed expression on her face. “Please come out here. You’ll make an entrance with Cas.”
Em walked to the door, brushing past the queen to find Cas leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He still looked as though someone was poking him with hot knives, but now he’d grown bored of it. Painful boredom. That was the prince.
“If you don’t know where to put her, don’t just dump her anywhere,” the queen chastised Davina, who was wringing her hands at Fabiana’s side. “Bring her to me, if you must.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The queen disappeared into the ballroom, the maids scurrying after her. Em watched the doors swing closed, silence descending onto the hallway.
“We’ll go in when my father arrives.” Cas leaned away from the wall and glanced both ways, like he hoped that moment was now.
She nodded, rubbing her thumb across her necklace. He watched her, his eyes flicking from her face to her hand.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
She quickly dropped the necklace, sliding her hands into her pockets instead. “No.”
“This doesn’t really mean anything. It’s just tradition.”
“If it didn’t mean anything, you wouldn’t do it.” She met his gaze. “Have you always used dull blades?”
“Of course.”
“Why? Are you afraid the bride or groom will win, and one of your own will die?”
“I think we’re more concerned that they’d lose, and we’d have to find a replacement.”
His mouth twitched, and she almost laughed. “Me bleeding out on the floor would put a damper on the wedding tomorrow,” she said.
Amusement crossed his features, and he hesitated for a beat too long. Perhaps he was reconsidering the use of dull blades. “Yes, it would.”
“Mary!”
Em’s heart jumped at the sound of the king’s booming voice. He strode down the hallway, his lips pulled into an almost comically wide grin. His smile was too big, like it was trying to conquer the rest of his features.
King Salomir and Cas were about the same height, but the king was larger and broader, with a neat dark beard. Some would find him handsome. Em did not.
“Are you ready for the battle?” he asked.
“Looking forward to it.”
He laughed and clapped a hand on her shoulder. She considered breaking a few of his fingers.
He dropped the hand and headed for the ballroom, beckoning for them to follow him. He threw open the door in a dramatic fashion, sweeping his arms out like his admirers were free to adore him now. “Welcome to the Union Battle!” he yelled.
Cheers erupted from the crowd. Em trailed behind Cas and his father as they crossed the room. The king gestured for her to stop in the middle of the floor. He and Cas continued to the front of the room, standing with the queen and Jovita.
The king waited for the cheers to die down before he spoke again. “Today we celebrate the union of my son, Prince Casimir, and Princess Mary of Vallos. If this is your first Union Battle, the rules are simple. Our future princess will pick someone to battle. They will use swords only. The first one to make three fatal strikes will be the winner. I will call out each strike as they are made.” He looked at Em. “Mary, you have your choice of any member of my or Cas’s guard as your opponent. Or”—his lips quivered with amusement—“you can pick any member of the royal family, with the exception of Cas. But be warned, those who pick a member of the royal family usually live to regret it. If you have any doubt about your skills, I don’t recommend it.”
That last statement was a challenge. Em knew it. Every person in the room kne
w it.
She surveyed the guard. She found the man with a red beard and freckles. He was a bit pale.
She turned back to the front. She could take the king up on his own challenge. Or the queen, who’d been trained as a warrior in Olso.
Or Jovita. Em knew less about her skills, though as a member of the Lera royal family she would have had intense training in every type of combat. She’d certainly made her doubts about Em’s skills clear.
Jovita raised both eyebrows as Em stared at her. The king laughed.
She glanced back down the line to see Cas subtly shaking his head at her.
The point is to prove your worth and skill in battle—
“Jovita,” she said quickly.
The king laughed again. “A bold choice. You’ll be nursing your bruises all night, I suspect.”
“Yes, she will,” Jovita said with a grin. She walked across the wood floor, stopping in front of Em. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ll keep the bruises to the lower half of your body, so you’ll still look pretty for your wedding day.”
“Good luck trying.”
Jovita smirked as a man brought them dull swords. Em took hers, relieved to have a sword again, even if it wasn’t a real one.
“And I’d like to remind you that this is supposed to be entertaining, so please, make it a bit theatrical,” the king said as he sat down in his chair.
Em gripped the sword, getting a feel for the weapon. It was heavier than the one she’d had to leave with Damian, but not by much. Jovita took a few steps around in a circle, swinging the blade back and forth.
Em glanced at the three people sitting at the front of the room. The king sat back in his chair, a wide smile plastered across his face. The queen was vaguely interested, her hands folded in her lap.
Cas leaned forward, his eyes bright as he nodded at her. Was he giving her encouragement? She wished he’d stop.
“On the count of three,” the king said.
Em focused her attention on Jovita. If she didn’t win this battle, she was going to have to look at that cocky expression for the rest of her stay in Lera. She needed to win. She needed to see Jovita down on her knees, a sword pressed to her throat.
