Kingdom Cold

by Brittni Chenelle

  "You don't want to disappoint your new wife," he jested.

  The truth was that I hadn't allowed myself to think about it. It wasn't really the type of thing you could prepare for. Although I knew the logistics of it, I'd never actually been with a woman. That was something that male royals in my kingdom did on their nineteenth birthday, as a sort of rite of passage. Since I was eighteen, it hadn't happened yet. Minseo had turned nineteen six months ago and had often requested the company of various women ever since.

  "I know you're excited," he said, trying to read my expression.

  Our brotherly dynamic changed when he turned nineteen. Suddenly he knew things, having experienced a world that I hadn't, and he relished every moment he could remind me.

  "It's no big deal," I said, stretching my arms above my head. My voice was more convincing than expected.

  "Good man. I'd hate it if my first time had to be in front of people. What an unusual tradition. To think I'll be there cheering you on the whole time."

  My stomach tightened. "It's just a moment of discomfort."

  He tilted his head back in a loud, open-mouthed laugh. "Let's hope it’s more than a moment."

  "All worth it for a kingdom."

  His smile faded. Minseo was the second-born. Our older brother Sumin would inherit Vires when father got too old, and Minseo would never have a kingdom of his own. I'd hurt him. And worse, he didn't deserve it.

  He gave a soft, unconvincing chuckle, his shoulders relaxed. "Yeah. Good luck with that."

  Before I could form an apology, he had gone on deck and left me with my guilt. What's wrong with me? Was I already cracking under the pressure? Honor, duty, and respect—these were the values instilled in me as a child, the values that built eastern culture. Vires had proudly carried these for centuries and I was determined to do the same.

  As we got closer to our destination, the nerves set in. It was like I was cycling through nervous habits, trying to find one that fit. I chewed my nails, I tapped my foot, I licked my lips. Minseo’s presence eased me. He had a joke or game ready each time he noticed signs of nerves. I was glad he had come along. The carriage ride dragged, days blurring together as if we’d slipped into purgatory. Even Minseo’s spirit dimmed. With each jerk of the carriage, I felt my home slip further away.

  Our military escorts worried that we wouldn't reach the castle in time.

  I punched Minseo on the shoulder, waking him suddenly. “What do you think’ll happen if we’re late?” I prodded. He scratched his head and grinned, “No doubt the king will marry off his daughter to someone else.” He laughed. “I hear there are quite a few unmarried princes in Algony.” I stared out the window of the carriage, imagining the worst, but it was the night before the wedding and our horse-drawn carriage came to an abrupt halt outside the stone gates of the Hiems Castle.

  I stepped out of the carriage and stretched. I hadn't expected to be this tired or this sore, but my nervousness numbed it all. Minseo patted me on the shoulder and we readied ourselves to be received.

  Woosh. Shloop.

  A guard's voice rang out, "Arrow!" It hit the ground more than twenty feet away. In an instant, the guards had formed a circle around Minseo and me. They searched the dusky sky. I braced myself and suddenly understood.

  This whole arrangement was a trap.

  Chapter 3

  Princess Charlotte

  THE MOMENT I LET THE arrow fly, I regretted it. It was as if it all happened in slow motion. I gasped and reached my hand out to grab it from the air, but it soared beyond my reach, landing on the ground several yards from the prince. What even was my plan? I kill the prince, then what? War? The fall of my kingdom? How could my parents want me to be queen when I couldn't make basic moral decisions, like don't kill my betrothed?

  I leaned against the stone wall of the castle. It cooled my skin as I slid down, and I sank my face into my hands. I heard the commotion of the guard outside—the fear in their voices. What had I done? Before I knew it, footsteps filled the corridor and I was surrounded by my own castle guards. Hot prickly tears stung my eyes. I had no intention of putting up a fight—I was cornered and guilty.

  "This is the most shameful thing you have ever done! What were you thinking?" My mother's voice was as shrill as it was strained—she clearly worried her voice would carry, making the combination sound like a dying animal.

  "Where's father?" I croaked.

  "He's trying to reassure your future husband that he's not under attack. This could mean war! How can you be so selfish?"

  I gulped. "I—" The words stuck to my tongue. I was so stupid. Why couldn’t I just be a normal girl? I closed my eyes, trying to remember what was going through my mind as I pulled the bow back. I was just tired of everything feeling so beyond my control.

  She paced. "My daughter is a murderer. Where did I go wrong?"

  "He didn't even—"

  "What Charlotte? Die?"

  I swallowed to meet the bile rising in my stomach. I felt like I was going to vomit.

  The door swung open and my father strode in. His presence weakened me. I fell to my knees and sobbed as hot tears poured from my eyes and stung my face. I wiped them furiously, taking choppy laborious breaths. I braced myself for his rage but my father pulled me to my feet. I buried my face in my arm so I wouldn’t have to meet his gaze. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest. I whimpered as he rubbed my back gently. Being held by my father always made me feel like a little girl.

  Several minutes passed without a word as my tears slowed and my breath evened. I pulled back, "Father—I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"

  "I know, my dear." He dropped his arms and peered down at me.

  "You do?" I sniffed.

  "I trust you. Do you trust me?" he asked, the lines on his dark forehead deepened.

  I nodded, a steady stream of tears still flowing.

  His lips peaked up at the corners. "Then trust my choice here."

  I wiped my snot on the sleeve of my dress and I could basically hear my mother's eyes roll across the room without even looking at her. I cleared my throat. "Does he still want to... I mean, will he still—"

  "He will honor our agreement, but his guard and his elder brother have requested to stay here until things..." he scratched the gray stubble on his chin, "settle."

  His voice was a warm blanket in my cold life.

  My mother's voice interceded, "You have five minutes to fix your face and greet your husband in the grand hall."

  I turned to leave.

  "Charlotte," my father called, "try to think about what he's going through."

  I nodded and headed to my chamber, and the more I thought about how much I must have disappointed my father, the worse I felt, but it didn’t mean that I was ready to hand my life over to some stranger. My only hope was that Prince Young changed his mind about the marriage. A devious plan began to gnaw at the back of my mind. If he canceled the wedding, surely no one could blame him. Perhaps the prince would be my ally after all. Maybe I could convince him not to marry me. There wasn't much time—the wedding was tomorrow—so I'd have to talk him into leaving tonight at the banquet. I picked at my fingernails. Was this the arrow incident all over again? Father had forgiven me, a favor I knew I didn’t deserve, but surely he couldn't blame me if the prince just left.

  I pinched my cheeks and pinned a few of my curls out of my face, making sure I had no snot coming out of my nose or tear lines on my cheeks. My eyes were still red and puffy but it was starting to get dark and, with the low lighting, I was sure no one would notice.

  Minutes later, I was standing face to face with a tall, dark stranger. His black eyes peered into mine. He smiled a devilish grin that shot flecks of mischief into his irises. His face nearly brushed mine as he bowed, never taking his gaze off me. He'd gotten too close on purpose.

  My heart fluttered and I momentarily forgot my plan, my words, my name. A hot blush burned the insides of my cheeks. He oozed charisma, draw
ing me in. My heart thudded against my ribcage. There was nothing statue-like about him, except his perfect statuesque face. He waited for me to speak, glaring at my lips like I was a snack and he hadn't eaten in days. Electricity shot through me, shattering every cell of my body. All the determination to hate him melted away. I wanted him.

  He cleared his throat. "Good evening, princess. I'm Prince Minseo of Vires."

  Chapter 4

  Prince Young

  THE MOMENT THAT SHE turned away from my brother and looked at me, all the glitter in her eyes vanished. Her smile waned. Her posture slumped. She couldn't have been more obviously disappointed if she'd screamed it from the tallest tower.

  My stomach tightened, but concealing my emotions was my specialty.

  "Oh," she said, tucking a curl behind her ear. "I'm marrying you?"

  Minseo choked, biting back his smile.

  I stood paralyzed by humiliation. As I looked into her face, she did not resemble the foreign beauty I'd met once before, but rather a spoiled, selfish little princess who had already crossed enough unforgivable lines in the brief time I'd been in Besmium. This marriage wasn’t going to be as fun as I thought.

  "I'm Prince Young of Vires," I said, bowing deeply. My mind raced.

  I'll never love you.

  I continued. "It's an honor to meet you."

  You tried to kill me.

  She said all the words she was supposed to. She even apologized for “losing control of her arrow” but it was as soulless as reciting legislation. All the while, Minseo watched over my shoulder. My lips dried. I’d expected a significant amount of discomfort from this experience, but this was public humiliation. Charlotte was to blame for all of it. What kind of princess acted like this?

  Later that night, the banquet bustled with elegantly dressed Besmians. The royal dresser had chosen a military-style jacket with a sash and a series of multicolored pins for me to wear, and I was finding it more constricting than the loose, soft-flowing fabrics that were commonly worn in Vires. I was glad, however, that at least my clothing didn't make me stand out.

  Maybe it was the way that Charlotte was still sneaking glances at my brother, but I felt like everyone in the room knew.

  Beads of sweat prickled my neck around my collar. I hadn't been able to keep my feet under me since I'd arrived. I'd been shot at and rejected. Whatever trace amounts of bravery I was clinging to diminished the moment she sat down beside me. I speculated on what trauma she had in store for me next. Poison perhaps? I eyed my cup warily.

  After our brief introduction, Minseo had given me a few pointers, but the only one I could really remember was "smile". How could I? Her presence felt unpredictable, even dangerous. I could swallow my pride and ignore that Charlotte fawned over Minseo—I mean, what did I care? But this was a problem. Minseo was eligible and there was no logical benefit for either king to have me marry the princess instead of him. The wedding was tomorrow and at the rate things were going, I'd be on a ship home, shamed—and without any hope of ever being king. My father would be so disappointed. One night. I just had to charm her for one night. Tomorrow the marriage would be made official and my position here would be secure. Besides, I was every bit as good a man as Minseo.

  Trumpets sounded, reverberating off the candlelit ballroom. Rows of servants filed in, carrying silver trays that they placed in rows before us. When the trumpets stopped, the servants lifted the covers off the trays, revealing an assortment of plain-looking food. Though the amount of food was immense, it didn't look very special or interesting.

  The king and queen sat at the end of the table, more than twenty high-ranking members of court between us. Charlotte sat beside me but Minseo was halfway between the king and where I was. He was too far to talk to, but not too far to send him an occasional expressive glance. With the bustle of the chatting courtiers and the music from the band, they were far out of earshot, but they watched me carefully. Were they already not considering me? I turned to the princess, who was filling her plate with thick strips of chicken breast and dark purple grapes.

  I summoned all my courage. "You look lovely this evening," I said.

  The princess lifted her head clumsily, her mouth slightly agape. Eyes half open, her head bobbed back as a droopy smile stretched across her face. I looked into her eyes, a cloudy haze glossed over them. She picked up her silver cup and brought it to her lips, taking a long slurpy gulp before she plunged it back on the wooden table with a dull clank. "

  Annnnnnnd she's drunk," I huffed under my breath. The dinner had begun maybe twenty minutes ago. How many drinks could she have possibly managed since sitting down beside me? I stared in disbelief though she didn't seem to notice. She shoveled chicken into her mouth using her fingers. This is a princess? I tried focusing on my own bland meal, but Charlotte started drawing concerned glances from the courtiers across from us. She swallowed too quickly and choked. In a fit of coughs, she proceeded to wash the chicken down with more wine, before laughing at nothing, ogling my brother, and then starting the process over again. I was going to let her continue. For all intents and purposes, this was exactly what I needed. With her so out of it and a little acting on my part, the king and queen would think we were having a good time. I could go on to marry her tomorrow, become Prince of Besmium, and eventually king, and my father would never have to know what a rough start it had been. Charlotte could drink herself into oblivion for all I cared—but then she sat up, her head swerving involuntarily. She let out a faint burp. For crying out loud, she was going to be sick. We hadn't stepped one foot on the dance floor and already my only option was to drag her out of here.

  I stood quickly. "Miss Charlotte, would you care to accomp—"

  She burped again, lowering her head to the table. I quickly picked her up and held her against my hip. There was a door at the opposite end of the table from the king. It seemed to be meant for servants, but it was my only option. She managed to get her feet under her and we were able to semi-inconspicuously slip out of the ballroom.

  She led me through the dimly lit corridor, nodding her head in the correct direction whenever there was an option to turn. Suddenly, her knees buckled and she slumped down to the cobblestone floor.

  The candles burned low, probably as a result of the servants being busy with the banquet. The cool archways, a dark gray contrast to the golden-flecked columns of the ballroom.

  "Come on, Charlotte," I said, kneeling. I tilted her head up to look her in the eyes. "We're almost th—" I froze. A heavy stream of tears flowed down her cheeks, dripping from the bottom of her chin.

  She sobbed. "I don't want to marry you."

  It wasn't news, but I'd never seen a woman cry before. She seemed so fragile it made something ache at the bottom of my stomach. This was not the girl who shot the arrow or the girl who showed her disappointment upon our first meeting. This was someone new.

  I sighed. "I know." I felt fear seep into my skin before my next question manifested. "Do you want to marry my brother?"

  She shook her head. "I don't want to marry anyone."

  I nodded as her breakdown worsened. It was a terrible reality, but somehow it made me feel better. I hadn't exactly been a disappointment, she just didn't want any of this. I had a lingering urge to reach out to her, to wipe her tears, or hold her in my arms, but I didn't. I let her cry.

  “I don’t want to be a princess,” she sobbed. “I just want to be free.”

  Afraid to touch her, I inched back and settled into a more comfortable position on the floor.

  “I’m sorry this happened to you,” I said.

  “Stop the wedding then!” she cried.

  My body stiffened. “I too am bound to honor my father’s agreement.”

  She wiped her face and looked me straight in the eyes, her swollen cheeks red and brimming with emotion. “What do you want?” she asked.

  I shook my head.

  “My kingdom? You can have it,” she breathed. “Let me go.”

  F
rozen, I begged my body to tear my gaze from hers.

  Her lips parted and she breathed in like it hurt, before she spoke. “Aren’t you afraid of what you’ll be giving up?”

  My brow furrowed as I contemplated what she meant. I bit the inside of my bottom lip.

  “Do you honestly think you could ever love me?”

  The word “love” struck me, like an arrow masked by dusk.

  She studied my face, my silence burning away her last seeds of hope. Her tears began to fall again, this time slow and sorrowful.

  “I-”

  "Charlotte!" a voice called.

  I turned. A fair-haired girl cantered toward us and knelt in front of us, cupping Charlotte's face in her hands. A wooden cross swayed from her neck as she attempted to calm the crying princess. The girl quickly wiped away Charlotte’s tears and pulled her close. Charlotte's cries softened as the blonde girl rubbed her back gently.

  I was having a day of new experiences and none were what I'd expected. Here I was, witnessing a kind of affection that wasn't shown in my kingdom. In fact, I'd never seen this kind of nurturing at all, not even from my own mother. It warmed me—entranced me.

  The blonde girl lifted her chin, turning her face to me. "Your Highness!" Her voice, soft and musical. "Please pardon my rudeness."

  "No—I mean, thank you. I didn't know what to do."

  She nodded. "Will you help me get her to her chamber?"

  I leaped to my feet and, with the help of the girl, we got Charlotte to her feet too. As we moved toward Charlotte's chamber, I felt a twinge of something stirring inside me.

  The blonde girl spoke, "I'm Milly. I'm a servant here in Hiems Castle and Charlotte's friend."

  "I'm Young," I said.

  Milly giggled, warmth radiating from her smile. I turned to find her smiling widely.

  I shook my head in confusion, "What? What's funny?"

  Her laughter reached her pale, crystal-blue eyes. "I can't call you that."

  "Oh. Well, maybe you can make an exception. Like you do for Charlotte," I said, biting down on my bottom lip.