Page 18 of Warrior Princess
“It’s a bit early, don’t you think?” I mumbled, my voice muffled by the blankets as I attempted to shield myself from the intrusion of morning.
“The king would like you to attend breakfast with him this morning,” Diane informed me. Her tone was formal, but her eyes darted nervously from the doorway and back to me. Her fidgeting unsettled me, hinting at a concern she didn’t feel free to voice.
I sighed and resigned myself to the start of what promised to be a demanding day. Reluctantly, I shed the comfort of blankets and shuffled to the basin to freshen up.
Diane gasped and looked at me with horror, covering her mouth. I flinched at her reaction and followed her gaze to myneck. I quickly covered up the slice across my skin. It was healing, but it was still a rather jarring sight. “I’ll need a scarf,” I said. She only nodded.
After splashing my face with cool water and brushing my teeth, Diane assisted me into a dress that had been selected for me. Its origins were a mystery, but it clearly wasn’t chosen by Diane. The fabric was fine, the style immaculate, and the fit precise, suggesting the hand of someone familiar with royalty’s stringent expectations.
Once appropriately attired, I followed Diane out of the bedroom. The presence of two guards stationed outside my door who followed at a discreet distance as we navigated the corridors served as a silent reminder of my peculiar status within the palace.
The walk to the dining hall was a journey through a labyrinth of ornately decorated corridors, each turn and archway meticulously crafted. The walls were adorned with historical tapestries and portraits of dignitaries. The air was cool and smelled faintly of lavender and beeswax, used generously in the polishing of the wood that paneled the hallways.
The grandeur of the palace was on full display in the dining hall. The room boasted a high vaulted ceiling with elaborate frescoes depicting Keldara’s lush landscapes and historic victories. A massive chandelier hung overhead, its crystals scattering prismatic light across the room and illuminating the long dining table.
King Eduard was seated at the head of the table with Mykal to his right. Both men paused their conversation as I entered, their attention shifting to me.
“Apologies,” I greeted, adding with a light-hearted tone, “Had I known you were expecting me for breakfast, I would have woken up earlier.” I started to move toward Mykal’s side when the king gestured toward the seat on his left.
“Please,” he motioned, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I hesitated and glanced at Mykal, whose grip on his utensil had noticeably tightened. Normally, the queen’s seat was at the king’s left—a place of honor and intimate counsel. His invitation was a deviation from protocol, laden with unsavory implications.
“Your Highness,” King Eduard urged, his tone firm yet not unkind.
With a resigned breath, I navigated around the expansive table to take the offered seat, acutely aware of the subtle but significant shift in dynamics this gesture represented. As I settled into the chair, a sense of unease nestled beside me, a silent companion for the meal to come.
“How did you sleep, Princess?” King Eduard inquired casually as he took a bite from his ornately prepared breakfast.
“Very well, thank you.” My quiet voice was barely above a whisper. A slippered servant smoothly set down my breakfast in front of me—a plate garnished meticulously with a variety of fruits and a warm, aromatic pastry.
“Probably better than you did in the Grasslands, I’d wager.” When he chuckled, his laughter echoed off the high vaulted ceilings. “Those barbarians know nothing about the luxuries of life.”
His comment made me tense, and I felt a sharp sting on my tongue as I bit down hard enough to draw blood to keep from retorting. It seemed he was trying to provoke me, but I was determined not to rise to the bait. Maintaining my composure, I forced a tight smile and picked up a fork, deliberately starting my meal to stave off further conversation. I hoped my silence would encourage him to eat without engaging me further, but it only emboldened him.
“Don’t worry, Your Highness; I’ll make sure your stay here isverycomfortable.” His heated gaze lingered unsettlingly on my lips before meeting my eyes.
I shifted awkwardly under his scrutiny, disliking the direction our conversation was heading. In a bid to change the subject, I blurted out something that had been on my mind since I arrived. “The queen,” I said with feigned enthusiasm. “I’ve heard such great things about her,” I lied. In truth, I had no idea who she was or even what her name was. “Is she here? I would love to meet her.”
The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Everyone at the table froze and their attention snapped to me. It was the longest three seconds of my life.
“Apologies for not introducing her sooner, but she’s… unwell,” Mykal interjected, his voice strained with something that sounded like pain.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked, genuine concern coloring my tone.
Mykal glanced at the king, seeking permission before responding. The king, however, only offered a tight-lipped smile. “No, Your Highness, there’s nothing you can do.”
“I’m a fairly good healer, I—” I began, but the king cut me off abruptly.
“No!” he barked sharply, sending a cold glare my way. “She’s beyond saving.”
My eyes widened in shock. I turned to Mykal, whose head was bowed in a rare show of submission. The great Commander Mykal Kaiser literally bowed his head. I wasn’t sure about their dynamic, but one thing was for sure… This wasn’t the Mykal I’d come to know—the man whom all of Asteria had grown to fear.
“Okay…” My appetite disappeared and I nudged the plate away.
After the king finished his meal, he excused himself and left the room. The instant he was gone, some of the heaviness that had settled around us lifted.
Once I was sure he was out of earshot, I leaned closer to Mykal, my voice barely a whisper. “Is the queen okay?”
