Page 1 of Prize for the King
I Tyrant
Bells ring all around the castle, their frenzied alarms carrying above the high-pitched screams of panic and the sounds of slaughter in the courtyard. I sit in my embroidery chair by the window, numb and rigid. I don’t look out. I don’t want to see the blood.
Maybe if I don’t look, it will turn out to be a bad dream. I’ll wake up among my pink, swan-down pillows, stretch and yawn, and the next bell I hear will be the gentle tinkle announcing the serving of morning tea in my parlor.
But the parlor is where I am right now, and there’s no tea in sight. I stare at the wall ahead, the rich blue and silver of the wallpaper swimming before my eyes as I will this day to be a dream. But how—how can it be a dream—when I didn’t go to bed last night?
No one slept. How could we, when the siege ram struck our gates again and again like a torturous death knell? Even the dogs stayed up, howling at the moons during the brief moments of silence. I didn’t undress for bed or try to lie down. So no, it cannot be a dream, no matter how hard I wish for it.
The door bursts open and my governess storms in, wildly waving the tiny silver bell she normally uses to correct my behavior.
Sit up straight, Princess Caliane. Keep your legs more tightly together. Smile. Be quiet until asked. Stir your tea more gently.
I’ve learned so many meanings of this little bell’s ringing over the years, but not once did it convey the end of the world.
Until today.
“What are you doing?” Mistress Avinia shouts in alarm, her pale eyes bulging in her sweaty face. “Don’t you hear the bells? We lost! They got through the gate!”
My lips feel numb and foreign as I reply, shocking myself with how calm I sound. It must be my education finally catching on.
A princess should speak gently even in times of great agitation.
“What would you have me do, Mistress? Should I hide in the wardrobe or jump out the window?”
These are my only options. Our secret escape passageways were collapsed by the enemy as soon as the siege began a week ago, turning out not to be so secret, alas. If even one was still functional, I would flee with my father and a small contingent of his most trustworthy knights—most likely to be skewered by a sword in the wilderness instead of the comfort of our castle.
I never understood the logic behind those escape tunnels. Any invader worth his mettle would sniff them out first thing to make sure his enemies wouldn’t flee, I thought.
And that’s exactly what happened. At least we weren’t defeated by an imbecile.
A chiding singsong voice trills in the back of my mind.Be more hopeful, Princess Caliane. There is always a provident solution if you pray well enough.
“Oh, maybe I should pray,” I remember, sliding down to my knees. The carpet is soft and plushy, likely very absorptive. An excellent place to die, stuck through with a sword. I give myself a grim little nod.
Maybe I can’t muster any hope, but I can deliver one silver lining.
“Have you gone mad?” Avinia stares down at me with visceralterror, her moist face turning so pale, it’s almost green in the light of the dawn rising splendidly outside the window.
I risk a glance, knowing I won’t see the gore from where I kneel on the floor. The sun is so very gold and orange, a divine backdrop for the tall spire of the tower on the other side of the courtyard. I don’t think I’ve seen a dawn quite this splendid before, but then, I almost never rose early if I could help it.
Somewhere in the distance, birds take flight, dozens of tiny black shapes slicing through the gold. The glorious sight makes my breath catch in my throat. To think it’s the last dawn I’ll see… No. That way lie tears and grief, and very possibly, an ugly, horrible hope that would turn me into a sniveling mess.
Princesses don’t beg. They die proud.
I swallow my unshed tears and smile at the dawn. I have to give us that—at least we’ll die on a lovely morning.
I turn back to Avinia.
“Is it mad to pray? You know, I always thought that. Not once did the gods grant me a wish I made. It was suspicious,” I say, making my eyes wide and innocent as I get up to my feet.
By goddess Lirande’s veil, I’ll enjoy my last minutes in this world, and riling up my governess is prime entertainment.
She gapes at me in stupefied silence, her slack mouth open. I watch with a strange sort of giddiness as a drop of perspiration slides down her neck and sinks into the collar of her unflattering brown dress. Her tightly bound breasts heave with every inhale.
“Oh gods!”
The horrid thud of the battering ram explodes right in the courtyard, so much closer than before. I flinch once, but when the next crash shakes the castle with its hellish force, I’m prepared. I’ve had time to get used to the violent, regular pounding that’s like the heartbeat of a giant demon. We’ve heard it all through the night, justnot as near.
