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The rumors about me had escalated among the staff to the point where some now thought I’d mastered black magic. The guards exchanged frightened looks and finally reached for the handles to open the door.
Throwing hateful glares at everyone in my way, I descended the glamorous stairway down to the courtyard. The rain had turned into a slight drizzle. With long, angry steps, I made my way over the wet cobblestones and to the stables. Servants turned on the spot the moment they saw me step in. One of them, a young stable boy, wasn’t fast enough.
“You!” I barked at him. He froze.
“Saddle my horse.”
The boy looked around for help, but when no one was in sight, he faced me again, trembling.
“Y-your Highness, it is raining.”
“I haven’t noticed.” The boy looked relieved, not realizing that I was being sarcastic. I sighed loudly. “Just saddle my horse.”
The boy still didn’t move, struggling to comprehend the situation.
“Now, I said!”
“At once, Your Highness.” Finally, he ran over to the saddles and grabbed the one reserved for my white mare, Fiona.
I walked back out of the stable and into the courtyard to wait for Fiona. As much as the white horse reminded me of the tragic day of my seventh birthday, I loved her dearly. Nothing about that day had been her fault. She was just an innocent horse. If only my father could love me a tenth as much as I loved her.
The rain wet my face as I looked up at the gray sky.
Marriage. To a Northern nobleman. A barbarian! Most likely ruined and poor. What was he thinking?
My breaths felt heavy, as if someone was sitting on my chest. As brave as I was in the throne hall to speak my mind against my father, in the end, he’d have the final say over my life. If this terrible act ended the war, he’d make that sacrifice. But even a blind woman could see that the men of the North would find another reason to go to war, and then my life would be wasted for nothing.
A painful knot formed in my throat. It was hopeless.
“Yes, I’m telling you.” A young maid’s voice coming from behind the stables distracted me. I looked in the direction of the voice but didn’t see anybody.
“The king will marry her to a Northman.” The voice was louder now.
Wonderful. The rumor mill had already started, not even minutes after the incident.
“But how will he make her?” Another woman’s voice countered the first one. “The Night Queen can spit fire. The devil has granted her those powers after she had that boy thrown into prison to have him eaten by rats.”
The last part was true, but I had more than a good reason to. Not that anybody ever asked. And he wasn’t eaten by them, just bitten a few times.
Despite my tragic circumstances, I couldn’t help but smile. Not only was I a master of black magic, but now I could spit fire like a dragon too?
“If those noblemen know what’s good for them, they won’t be blinded by her beauty. They’ll make a run for it,” the first voice said as the two women turned around the corner.
“Men are men, and she is as cruel as she is beautiful,” the other woman said, but her voice broke off the moment she laid eyes on me.
Both of their faces looked as if they’d seen a ghost.
“Y-y-y-your Highness...” the younger one with a long, carrot nose muttered. The older maid, a short woman maybe in her thirties, let out a strangled yelp and ran.
I crossed my arms. “You should do the same,” I said to the carrot-nosed maid. “Or I will turn you into a rat with my black magic.”
The maid turned on her heel and stormed after her friend. For a moment, I watched them go. Could their gossip have some truth in it? Could I be lucky enough that my reputation as a monster would scare away suitors? Thinking about the extent of my father’s land and wealth, I figured it was unlikely. And yet ...
My lips curled up as I stared after the fleeing maids. If they thought me a dragon, surely I could make some simple-minded men believe the same. All I had to do was be myself. No, not just that. I had to step it up. Unleash my inner beast.
Anything to keep my freedom.
After all, it was all I had left. Beyond all the glitter and gold, deep within my chest, was my mother’s spirit, and I would perish before I let some war-hungry Northern barbarian claim it.
