by Katy Haye
“There’s no time to waste,” Mae informed me, tugging back the sheets. She tutted to see me in my underwear instead of a nightgown. “Come along, wash quickly, then we’ll get you dressed.”
I yawned and fought the fatigue dragging at me.
“Quickly!” She chivvied me as though I were a child and I caught myself hurrying to please her. When I realised what I was doing, I deliberately stopped and gave her a calm, cold look.
Her cheeks reddened. “If you please, Princess. Your royal mother will be here shortly.”
That sent a different shaft of alarm through me, although I didn’t let it show. Did she intend to continue yesterday’s argument? Or warn me further not to speak the word ‘fae’?
I was dressed, Mae brushing my hair, when the doors were flung open and Mother swept inside. “Not ready yet?” she complained. “You’re late.”
The maid swept my hair into a simple knot and began to pin it in place. I met Mother’s eyes in my mirror. “I was about to go down for breakfast.”
She dismissed that idea with a wave of her hands. “There’s no time for that. We need clothes for your wedding. The dressmaker has already been kept waiting.” As though it were my fault I was late for an appointment I had no idea had been made for me.
Following behind Mother was an entire troop of people, a tailor and a dressmaker and half a dozen assistants each. I clearly wasn’t going to escape. Mae finished my hair and I turned to face all my visitors. “Mae, could you bring up some fruit, please?”
“No.” Mother countermanded my instruction before the maid had finished curtsying her agreement. She swung to me. “If you miss breakfast today, take that as a warning not to be lazy in future.”
I gritted my teeth. “Of course, Mother.”
I should have prioritised food over dressing, since I was immediately stripped to my underwear once more so the dressmaker could take my measurements. Then maid after maid stepped forward with bolts of cloth that were draped over me while Mother and the tailor discussed matters and his assistant made marks in his notebook.
Now and then I reached out to touch the fabrics as they were displayed for me – but more for my mother – to assess. I tested the nap of a deep blue velvet that was utterly gorgeous but would surely be stifling in the warmer Surran environment. Mother waved a hand and it was removed. I had no idea whether the fabric had been selected or not.
Next was a heavy, amber silk that I thought would probably work well with my eyes.
“Don’t touch the fabric,” Mother snapped, barely looking at me.
Resentment rose in me. I was about to become a queen. I hoped the people in Surran would treat me more appropriately. One benefit to my marriage: I would probably never see my mother and father again.
“Do I get to choose?” I asked, more to remind my mother that I was in the room than for any other reason. She threw me a look that clearly said she thought I was the world’s biggest fool for asking, and turned back to the tailor.
“No, I didn’t think so,” I muttered. The amber silk was removed, replaced with another fabric, then another, and another. My stomach rumbled and I switched off, imagining I was somewhere far more pleasant. I wasn’t surprised when, in my imagination, Lyo joined me there.
When the dressmaker finally left – and after I’d eaten lunch – I went to the infirmary to check on the broken-armed maid, Helyn. I’d taken my revenge on Father, but I wanted to be sure she was also getting the treatment she deserved.
Infirmary was a grand title for a room that was little better than a closet, a single candle illuminating the dim interior in lieu of a window. There was only one bed inside, but still the place felt cramped. Servants weren’t encouraged to be ill, they were expected to work. Light flooded the room when I pushed the door open.
“Hello?” the patient called.
“I came to see how you were.” I walked to the maid’s bedside.
“Princess!” She struggled, trying to get up when she recognised her visitor.
“Lie back,” I told her.
“This is an honour, Princess.” She continued to struggle. I helped her sit up, placing the thin pillow so it supported her. Her arm had been splinted and tightly bound, and placed in a sling that crossed her chest.
“I’m so sorry about what happened.”
“It’s not your fault, Princess.”
“How long will it take to heal? Have they told you?”
“Several weeks.”
“Will they hold your job open?”
She shook her head. “I’m no use if I can’t work.”
My father’s contempt for those beneath him made my teeth clench. I reached for my wrist, tugging one of my bracelets free. “Here. This will help. If you sell it, the money will give you some time to recover.”
“No!” She shook her head, pressing back against the pillows. “I can’t take that.”
“I have plenty. Too many to count.”
She pushed the bracelet firmly back at me. “I’m sure someone has counted your jewels. I don’t want to be accused of theft.”
I looked straight at her, refusing to take the bracelet back. “Did you think that’s why I’ve come? To trap you? To treat you worse than my family has already done?”
“Of course not.”
“Then take it. It pleases me to do good where I can. Remember, I was promised to the Daughters of Compassion until yesterday.”
She studied my face, then took the bracelet, slipping it beneath the covers. “Bless you. Thank you. I’ll remember your kindness, Princess.”
“I only wish it weren’t necessary. You shouldn’t have spoken out.”
“It was an automatic reaction. He was so pleased about the match he’d made.” She shifted. “I’d like to see him married to a brute like that.”
“Shh. That’s my father, and my future husband you’re talking about.”
She dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, Princess, I meant no disrespect.”
I smiled, genuinely, for the first time that day. “Perhaps it’s best for you to leave the palace. You can say what you like when you’re home.”
“You’re very calm.” Her tone was admiring, but I couldn’t see anything to admire about me.
I wasn’t calm, I was cowed. “What good would panic do?”
“I hope for your sake that the stories aren’t true.” She sighed. “Keli in the kitchens, she’s a refugee from Surran. The tales she tells … they’re terrifying.”
“Then I don’t want to hear them.” Jaran would doubtless tell me I should take in as much information as possible before starting my journey to Surran. I’d sooner hold on to the shreds of my courage rather than risk losing them. If I did, I might run screaming, and that couldn’t end well.
“You’re brave, princess.”
I shook my head. It was easier to speak to this almost-stranger than to my own family. “Quite the opposite,” I assured her. “I’m a terrible coward. I have no intention of fighting my fate. I’ll do exactly what my father tells me to.” My smile slipped and I forced it higher. “And then I’ll spend the rest of my life doing exactly what my husband tells me to.” And hoping not to be murdered by him.
“And that takes courage in itself,” she insisted.
“I’m glad you think so. I’ll leave you to rest. I hope you have a good journey home.”
“Thank you. I’ll be thinking of you, Princess.”
~
I’d nearly reached my room when Jaran appeared. “Sister!”
“What?”
“We’ve been summoned.” My guilty conscience gave a jump. “To the balcony,” he continued. “To see justice dispensed.”
My heart stopped altogether. “J-justice?” They’d found the dragonette. And Lyo. I must have been insane to steal Father’s pet!
Jaran gave me a quizzical look. “Two of the royal guards are to be flogged, for dereliction of duty. They allowed the thief to steal past them and take the dragonette.”
I
wanted to be sick. The guards were brutes, but they didn’t deserve this.
Jaran was inspecting me, head on one side. “You look like a frightened rabbit again, is there a reason for it?”
“Am I supposed to rejoice at barbarity?” I snapped.
Jaran gave no reaction to my words, nor my tone. “I believe Father expects us all to be satisfied at the delivery of justice.”
There was no possible answer to that. Father would arrange matters as he wanted them, and any protest would provoke his displeasure.
“Come along,” Jaran said, tucking his arm through my elbow. “Let’s get it over with.”
Mother was already on the balcony, which looked out over the courtyard in the front of the palace. The ornate iron gates that led into the city had been closed, and covered with plain wooden gates. Anyone passing by outside would soon be able to guess from the noise what was happening, but the only witnesses would be the royal family and the palace guards and servants, watching a warning of what might happen to them if they displeased the king.
Mother gave us a nod when we arrived, then turned back to watch the courtyard outside. She might have been carved from stone, her body and features both unmoving.
The palace servants were gathered in a semi-circle that spanned around two grids erected in the middle of the space. Absolute silence weighed the air, not even a bird or a breath of wind breaking the stillness. The servants, I didn’t doubt, were soundless for fear of drawing attention to themselves.
I looked past the grids, pleased that from the second-floor balcony I could see past the wall and into the city. I was fighting my desire to run away. What was about to happen was my fault. I could stop it. And possibly take the men’s place on one of those grids.
I couldn’t do it. I tried to rationalise my cowardice. It was entirely possible that the king would continue with the punishment even if I owned up. The guards had been derelict in their duty. And if I owned up, Father would make me tell him what I’d done with the dragonette. That would put Lyo at risk and I couldn’t put him in danger.
Lyo. He planned to break into the palace. I needed to send him a message, telling him to wait, to leave it until the king’s ire calmed. The guards would be extra vigilant, fearful of suffering a similar punishment. He wouldn’t have a chance to succeed. My palms grew clammy. I had to find a way to warn him.
On the other side of city square, the clock on the mage’s tower chimed two, and the doors behind us were thrown open. I jumped, then curtsied as Father stepped forward.
He barely glanced at any of us, striding to the front of the balcony to address the servants and guards crowded below.
“Bring the prisoners forward!” His words rang in the silence. From the side of the palace, the two guards stumbled into sight, each flanked by two other guards. The prisoners were stripped to the waist, their wrists tied behind their backs. They came to a halt facing the balcony, eyes trained on the ground.
“These men have been found guilty of dereliction of duty. Their inattention allowed a thief to enter the palace and steal away a valuable royal asset. Let their punishment be a warning to all of you.” He trained his attention on the two men. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”
They each dropped to their knees. I couldn’t see whether the gesture was spontaneous, or if they’d been pushed by their guards. “Forgive us, Your Majesty,” they called, almost in unison. “We crave your forgiveness, and humbly accept whatever punishment you decree.”
They didn’t beg or plead, displaying a bravery that would probably earn my father’s respect – what little he had to offer others. The guard on the left, I was sure, was shivering, undoubtedly from fear since it wasn’t cold enough to blame the air. I realised I was shivering, too, and laced my fingers tightly.
“A dozen lashes,” the king ordered.
Two heads bowed, whether in acceptance or despair I’d never know. They were hauled to their feet and led to the grids. They would face each other for their punishment. As they were tied to the grid, two more guards stepped forward. They were in uniform trousers, but their jackets had been discarded to leave them in shirtsleeves. In their hands each carried a coiled whip. I dropped my gaze to the stone beneath my feet.
“Daughter.” Father’s warning tone reached me. I looked up to see him watching me, his expression cold. “I hope you will watch justice done. A princess mustn’t be faint-hearted.”
I swallowed. “Of course, Father.” I forced myself to step forward, as though eager for a good view. I looked towards the grids, then let my focus slip, so I was looking at a face in the crowd beyond. The men became blurs.
The shirt-sleeved men stepped forward, eyes on the balcony, awaiting my father’s instructions. I felt Father’s eyes on my face and kept my gaze on the spot I’d selected.
“Begin,” Father called.
Lyo – Always Happy to Help
“Something happened at the palace.”
Kiri burst through the door, returning empty-handed from her market trip. Pell was still out, probably getting more information on whatever it was Kiri was worried about.
“Something I need to know?”
“Not sure. They closed the gates, and—”
“The gates are always closed.”
She chewed at her lip. “Not like this. They rolled a shield of wood behind the metal so you couldn’t see into the courtyard.” She swallowed. “And then, it sounds like someone got a flogging.”
Lyo went cold. “Who—”
Kiri raised a shoulder. “A soldier, one of the guards, I think.”
Not Relle, then. His heart began to beat again. Kiri had gone pale. There were any number of memories from their lives in Surran that she could be remembering. His sister liked to make out that she was hard as nails, but he knew her pretence for the lie it was. He was grateful it was a lie; that meant they’d got out of Surran in time.
He slung an arm around her shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay. You know what the king here’s like. Still better than the one we got landed with, eh?”
She nearly smiled.
“He lost his dragonette; bound to be antsy.”
She moved. He knew she was looking into the corner, where the dragonette had taken up residence on top of the shelves, still invisible. She drank in a breath so deep he felt her chest pressing against his. “I don’t think you should break in. Not tonight.”
He tipped up her chin so she had to face him. “We aren’t ruled by fear, remember?”
“I know. But—”
He didn’t let her finish her argument. “The gods are with us. The gods want us to succeed, so Prince Ryss can reclaim the throne that should be his. That’s what we came here for. That’s what we’re going to do. I’m not afraid, and nor should you be.”
She nodded, returning to the Kiri he knew. He gave her an extra hug, then pushed her away. Sometimes anyone might need support. But that didn’t mean they were going soft.
The dragonette crooned, as though adding its opinion to the conversation, whatever that was.
“I might as well save my breath, hadn’t I?” Kiri grumbled.
“I’m going tonight. We can leave in the morning.”
“I’ll pack.”
“If you could bundle up my things, too, I’d be grateful.”
She snorted. “I’m not your servant.”
“And yet, always happy to help.” He prowled to the table. An apple appeared to be all the food they had. He wondered how agreeable Kiri would be to another market trip as he bit into it.
“Gods watch over you,” Kiri said. He hid a smile. She must really think matters were dire. Kiri never normally asked the gods for anything. “And if you do get into trouble…”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t expect me to pull you out of it.”
“Never.”
11 – You Have an Hour to Get Ready
I jumped when the first crack of the whip whistled through the air. The men were strong. Or determined. It wasn�
��t until the third blow that the first of them cried out, followed by his comrade when the next lash split his skin.
There was a ringing sound in my ears, and I only regretted that it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the sounds from below. I wound my fingers as tightly as I could, but still I twitched at each blow, my heart racing and bile rising in my throat. I half wished I might faint to take me away from the scene, but knowing my father, he was quite capable of pausing the punishment until I was awake again. This was … if not a punishment for me, then at least a lesson that was intended to remind me of my place. A lesson that the Muirland king would accept no weakness, not from his offspring.
And so I stared past the grids as the unfocused figures at the edge of my vision turned from pale to blood red. I breathed shallowly and counted in my head, grateful that I only needed to reach twelve.
After the last lash, there was silence but for the sound of one of the men sobbing.
Father stood at the edge of the balcony again. “I expect my guards to find the thief who dared to enter the palace. If the perpetrator isn’t found, there will be more punishments. Return to your duties. And never forget the loyalty you owe to your king.”
There followed a muted sound that might have been a cheer of support, but could equally be simply a release of the horror everyone felt. Father turned to go, then paused beside me, grabbing my chin so I was forced to look into his face. I tried to stifle my hatred, making my expression meek. “You must remember where your duty lies, too, daughter. Do not bring shame on your family when you belong to the Surran court.”
He strode away without waiting for my assurance. He didn’t need to wait for that. Everyone knew I would do as I was told. I always did.
The crowd below began to disperse. I wanted to run to my room, but I didn’t trust my weak legs to carry me without falling. Jaran hovered close by. I wasn’t sure whether I was warmed by his support or wanted to scream at him to leave me. Justice. This was hardly justice.
I tipped my head back and stared up at the sky, blinking back the tears that burned at my eyes.
