Page 10 of Warrior Princess (Blood Weaver Trilogy #3)

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B rilliant morning light unceremoniously invaded my room courtesy of Diane, who flung open the curtains and invited the bright sun to flood the space. I groaned, the abrupt glare overwhelming my senses as I squinted against the light. Peering out from under a mountain of cozy blankets, I noticed Diane positioned at the foot of my bed with a basin of water, her dutiful expression filled with urgency.

“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 my neck. 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 is very comfortable.” 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?”

Mykal looked at me hesitantly, then shook his head. “My mother is unwell… but there’s nothing to be done.”

“I can feed her my blood,” I quietly suggested. “Why don’t we try—”

“ No !” he interrupted. His voice was louder than intended, attracting Diane's attention where she stood at the doorway of the dining hall. He winced, then lowered his voice. “I mean, we can’t. My father…”

“Doesn’t want to save her?” I finished for him, my voice tinged with realization.

My suspicions were confirmed when Mykal nodded.

The second day turned into the third, and then the fourth. As the days slowly drifted by within the stone walls of King Eduard's fortress, my unease grew. Each day I diligently wrote to Ronan, recounting the unnerving stagnation of my negotiations with King Eduard, yet each day passed without word from him. I mean, he never promised to write back, but I assumed he would. At least to inform me that my father had written back. I should have heard from him by now.

My days were punctuated by tension-filled meetings in the throne room where the grandeur of the setting did little to mask the cold deadlock of our discussions. The high arched ceilings and intricate frescoes that depicted the valor of Keldaran ancestors seemed to sneer at my efforts, while the heavy gilded throne where King Eduard lounged served as a stark reminder of his absolute power.

“Your Majesty?” I started again, my voice laced with growing frustration. “I'm sure we can find a middle ground. This can't be a one-sided deal.”

King Eduard, sprawled regally with an air of disinterest, snorted dismissively. He stretched languidly, his imposing figure slouched against the ornate cushions of his throne, his legs spread wide and head tilted back. “Of course it can be,” he drawled, his voice echoing slightly in the vast room. “ I’m the king. And if there’s nothing else I want, then there’s nothing to discuss.” He shrugged nonchalantly, his demeanor exuding boredom.

I clenched my teeth and barely suppressed the urge to storm up his dais and confront him more directly with a punch to his face. His arrogance was infuriating, and his dismissive attitude toward the Crimson Clan's plight was intolerable.

Fueled by rising anger, I stepped forward, my resolve hardening. “Well, if that's the case, then I guess there's no reason for me to remain here,” I declared, my voice firm. “What comes next will be your sole responsibility. I won’t stop him ,” I added, a veiled reference to Shiro, hoping the mention of the demon fox would instigate some sense of urgency in him.

For a moment, it seemed my words had struck a chord. King Eduard's smirk wavered as he regarded me with renewed, calculating interest. “Is that so? Well, we can't have that .”

A surge of hope blossomed in my chest, mistakenly thinking he might reconsider. But that hope was quickly dashed when he barked a command: “Guards!”

Instantly, the doors to the throne room crashed open and a group of soldiers marched in, their boots thudding ominously against the stone floor. I was quickly encircled by a dozen men, each one brandishing a chain made of Aetherite—a material known to suppress a mage's power.

As the reality of my situation set in, I turned to King Eduard, my heart pounding with fear and defiance. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice tinged with alarm.

“I can’t have you running back to the Grasslands declaring war, now can I?” His tone was mocking as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Don’t worry; I’ll send word to Chief Aryan that you are well and have taken a liking to Keldara and wish to stay longer. And then...” His eyes gleamed with malicious pleasure. “I’ll notify your father of our upcoming nuptials.”

Stunned, I managed to stammer, “What? What are you talking about?”

He sighed dramatically, as if explaining to a child. “As you know, the queen is dying. I need a replacement, and who better than my neighbor, the Princess of Valoria? It’s a great idea, and a brilliant way to conquer your lands without waging war.”

My mind raced as I processed his words. The soldiers’ presence was a clear threat should I be foolish enough to openly resist. In a desperate attempt to deflect his plans, I blurted, “But you see, I’ve already been promised to another. You might not have heard, but at my welcome banquet I was engaged to Prince Caelan of Eldwain.”

King Eduard tilted his head and considered this new information. His dark eyes flickered with skeptical amusement. “Forgive me, Princess, but from my understanding, when Prince Caelan requested your hand, your father denied him, much to your mother’s disappointment,” he countered smoothly, clearly prepared for this retort.

As the room spun around me, I realized the depth of my predicament. King Eduard had not only captured me, but he had woven a narrative that would bind me to Keldara forever.

“No,” I murmured more to myself than anyone else in the room. “My father won’t believe it... Chief Aryan won’t believe it!”

King Eduard's laughter filled the throne room, a cold, mocking sound that echoed off the ornate ceilings. “Why? Because you’re in love with his son Ronan ?” he taunted, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction.

Betrayal stung sharply. It appeared Mykal had divulged everything. Anger surged through my veins, heating my face as I coiled to fight.

“You can’t imprison me here!” I shouted, my voice reverberating through the vast space. I instinctively stepped backward, only to find the guards tightening their circle around me. “If you think I’ll sit still and let you force me into this marriage, you’re wrong. You’ll quickly learn I don’t play nice!” I raised my hand in a futile attempt to manipulate his blood flow—an act of defiance even as the reality of my powerless situation set in.

Just then, a guard swiftly maneuvered forward and clamped a set of heavy Aetherite chains around my wrists. The chains were shockingly cold against my skin; the unique metal designed to dampen a mage’s abilities effectively cut off any chance of using my powers.

King Eduard's laughter grew louder and more triumphant. “Very cute, Your Highness. I see you and I will have much fun together!” His sneer told me he was thoroughly amused by my predicament.

I tugged desperately at the restraints, but it was no use. Each pull sent a chilling reminder of my weakened state as the Aetherite leached away any magical energy I tried to muster. My situation was dire, and the suffocating grip of the chains only fueled my growing despair and rage.

Refusing to cower, I fixed my gaze on the king, my eyes blazing with unchecked fury. “I’ll kill you,” I growled, the words raw and filled with venom.

King Eduard merely nodded, unmoved by my threat. “Of course you will.” He sighed, seeming almost bored as he rose from his throne with an air of nonchalance. He stretched leisurely as if this was merely a tedious social event rather than a confrontation of life-altering significance.

“Guards, escort the princess to her room and make sure she doesn’t leave,” King Eduard commanded dismissively. He smirked one last time, a final twist of the knife, before turning and striding out of the throne room with regal indifference.

As the guards ushered me out, my mind raced with the grim reality of my situation. Trapped in a foreign land, stripped of my powers, and under the watchful eye of a tyrant, the road ahead was fraught with danger. Yet, the fire of defiance burned brightly within me, fueled by every arrogant smirk and condescending remark I endured from the king. I was far from defeated, and my resolve to fight, survive, and overcome this ordeal grew stronger with each step I was forced to take away from the throne room and back to the gilded cage that was now my prison.