Page 14 of Veiled Flames
“Perhaps it’sthispair who should wed,” Prince Tynan says.
His words stab me. He doesn’t want me. Or is he, too, wishing he didn’t have to marry on command?
“She is acceptable,” King Vyktor says to my father. “Our accord is struck.”
The old king grabs my upper arm, his fingers digging into my flesh as he gruffly yanks me forward. “Come,” he says. “Stand behind me as I feast. Tonight, you shall keep my wine challis full, and my belly stuffed.” His eyes narrow. “After we are wed, you will find many more ways to serve me.”
Six
Rosomon
Hours after the feast, I’m fully awake, unable to even consider sleeping. Sleep will only bring on the morrow.
During the meal, I catered to the King’s every whim and suffered several more blows when I failed to anticipate his needs. Nary a morsel passed my lips. I wasn’t even given an opportunity to sit.
Immediately after, I was ushered to my bedchambers and fitted for the gown I must wear for my wedding—my wedding to a man who is not only more than three times my age, but also beyond cruel and disgusting.
Turns out, the vile king has married multiple times, as has his son. Which explains how Prince Tynan’s current mother appears to be younger than he is.
Apparently, the royals of Khotor go through many princesses and queens, and although I’m strong, I predict much pain in my future. Perhaps more painbecauseI am strong. Obedience is notamongst my virtues, and I predict many more blows to the head in my future.
I shudder at the ways the foul King laid his hands on me earlier, how he struck me whenever I failed to keep his challis full, or to properly anticipate which type of meat he desired next on his plate. And I hated even more how he grabbed me between my legs, then laughed, gesturing his knife with upward motions, after I jumped away.
But if marrying that horrid King is how I must serve Achotia, serve my father, it’s not only my fate, it’s my duty. How ironic that the sweet attention I’ve craved from my father came with such a bitter center.
My stomach grumbles, reminding me I’ve not eaten since I broke my fast before my long ride this morn. Sliding out of bed, I drape my robe around me, and tiptoe barefoot across the room, careful not to wake Nurse, who’s softly snoring in her berth to the side.
Slowly, I open my bedroom door, relieved to discover the footman there is asleep on the job. Once outside my bed chamber, I stride with purpose down the corridor, hoping my confidence will fool the other servants into believing I have permission for this nighttime excursion. It’s certainly not the first time the servants have seen me wandering the castle at night, and most are willing to look the other way.
Slipping behind a hidden door that conceals the maids’ route to the kitchen, I descend the narrow back stairways. The kitchen is empty—thank Othrix—but still warm from the fires that cooked tonight’s feast. I don’t know the hour, but I expect that Cook and her staff will arrive back here soon to begin preparations for my wedding banquet.
I lift a carved wooden lid off a ceramic bin, smiling as I discover a loaf of bread that’s still fresh. I rip off a large chunk and then sneak into the cheese pantry to carve a wedge of hard saltmere cheese, my favorite. Do I dare look for some wine to round out my late-night meal?
Of course you should.I offer myself permission.
This could well be the last decision I make for myself—ever—and feels like my very last sup. Unable to wait, I take a bite of the cheese and savor its sharp, salty taste as I walk quietly toward the wine cupboards. Wine Steward often leaves flasks of wine to take the air overnight, and I’m happy to see dozens at the ready, no doubt because of my wedding.
I take a simple pewter goblet from the shelf, one used by Wine Steward to test the flavor, and then pour myself a portion of wine. I drink it down quickly and then pour another, as the tang of the first lingers on my lips and tongue.
Armed with my meal, I slip around a corner to the bottom of the narrow stone stairs used by Wine Steward. There, I sit to enjoy my meal. I’m unlikely to be discovered here, and I relax as I tear off a piece of bread, savoring its yeasty flavor along with more cheese.
On my third bite, I hear voices, and I push myself up a few stairs to be sure I stay hidden.
“The wine is just here,” Alfryd says.
I start to rise, pleased I’ll get the chance to share my late-night snack with my brothers. In fact—tears rise—this might be my last chance to spend time with them, ever.
“Your father keeps a fine selection of wines, it seems.”
I plop back down. Alfryd isn’t with Olifer as I thought. He’s with Prince Tynan.
“But none from Sidonia, I see.” The Prince’s tone is pretentious, as if he knows more about wine than my brother. And even if that’s true, there’s no need to point it out.
“Shall we take a flask upstairs?” Olifer asks, and I realize the younger twin is there too.
“No need for formalities on my account,” the Prince says. “Let’s remain close to the source.”
He and Alfryd laugh, and chair legs scrape the stone floor.
