Chapter fifteen
The guards' hands were relentless, gripping my arms like iron clamps as they dragged me down the corridor. I struggled against them, my boots scraping against the polished stone floors, my cloak trailing behind me.
"Release me!" I barked, trying to summon every ounce of authority I possessed as the princess. "Do you know who you are touching? Do you dare seize the princess of this kingdom? Do you not fear the consequences?"
The captain, tall and unyielding, only sneered. "Orders are orders, princess," he said, his voice flat. "Your status changes nothing."
I lifted my chin higher, forcing my voice to carry through the corridor. "I will have you all punished! I will see every one of you locked in the palace dungeon for this insolence!"
They did not falter. Their grip on my arms only tightened, and I was pulled faster, the echo of my protests swallowed by the stone walls. My authority, my warnings, my royal name—it was as if none of it mattered.
Panic threatened to rise, but I forced it down. Not fear of them—I had faced stronger men—but the dread of what awaited me beyond those massive doors.
The throne room loomed ahead, guards lining the sides, torches flickering against the high walls. My father stood at the center, the king, a figure of power and rage, every muscle taut, eyes dark with stormy anger.
"Two days, Eunice," he said, voice low and thunderous. "Two days without word—and the palace is thrown into chaos. Do you even understand the magnitude of your disobedience?"
"I… I only went to clear my head," I said, voice trembling slightly, though I tried to sound firm. "I didn't mean to cause worry or fear—"
"Two days!" he barked, cutting me off. "Do you think your absence for even a moment is nothing? Do you not see the disruption it has caused? You are reckless, defiant, and wholly irresponsible!"
"I… I did not know—" I began, but his glare silenced me, sharp and unyielding.
"You will speak only when I permit it," he said. "Your actions show that you are not yet capable of reason. Two days of rebellion are enough to prove that words alone will not teach you obedience."
I lifted my eyes, searching for some mercy, but none came. Before I could speak again, the heavy doors of the throne room burst open.
"My daughter!"
The queen rushed in, gown gathered in her hands, hair loose, breath uneven. She did not slow, ignoring the guards in her path. Her eyes, wide with fear and relief, found me instantly. "Eunice!" she cried.
She pulled me into her arms, holding me as if she feared I would vanish again. "You are here… alive!" she sobbed. "Thank the heavens you are here!"
I leaned into her, letting her warmth anchor me, feeling the tension in my shoulders ebb for the briefest moment. "I'm here, Mother," I whispered. "I'm sorry."
The king's gaze bore into me, unyielding. His anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, as he stepped closer.
"And before you speak another word," he said, voice cold and deliberate, "know this: in exactly one week, on your birthday, you will be married to Prince Alaric of the Northern Dominion. This is final."
My heart froze. I had overheard him speaking of the marriage before, but I had never confronted him. Now, he had confirmed it.
"And since you cannot be trusted to obey," he continued, voice hardening, "you will begin with this lesson: your appearance is unacceptable. Your clothes are filthy, your hair in disarray, and your presence unbecoming of a princess. The maids will attend to you immediately. You will bathe, clean yourself, and dress properly. This is the first step in learning obedience."
"No! Father, please!" I cried, desperation climbing in my chest. "I… I didn't mean—"
"No," he interrupted sharply. "This is necessary. Two days of rebellion have been enough. I had considered giving you a second chance, but it is clear you must be reminded of your place."
My mother gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Two days! You cannot treat her so—"
"She has disobeyed me," the king said, voice unwavering. "And she will learn consequences now. Let the maids attend to her."
The guards stepped forward again, and the maids closed in, polite but insistent.
"Princess," one of them said quietly, "your clothes are filthy. You must be bathed, and then we will dress you properly. The palace cannot allow you to appear before the court in this state."
I lowered my head, cheeks burning with shame and indignation. My pride battled my circumstances. I had tried to assert my authority, had shouted and warned, but it was useless. Not today, not while the king's anger still burned.
As they guided me down the corridor, the mistress lingered near the throne, her expression calm, measured, and calculating. My mother followed closely, whispering, "I am here, my child. I will not let you face this alone."
We reached a small preparation chamber. The maids surrounded me, instructing me to remove the dirtied clothes, which had become almost unbearable to wear after two days on the run. My hair, tangled and matted, was combed roughly with brushes that scratched my scalp.
"Princess, you will follow our instructions," one maid said quietly. "It is for your own good. You cannot appear before the court like this."
I swallowed, pride twisting in my stomach. I felt humiliation keenly, but beneath it simmered a spark of defiance. I might be forced to obey now, but my mind was already racing with plans.
"Remember," the king's voice echoed faintly from the throne room, "in one week, on your birthday, you will marry Prince Alaric. This is your fate, Eunice. Prepare yourself."
I clenched my fists, hiding the knowledge I had overheard before—about the marriage, about the prince, about the alliances being forced upon me. They did not know that I already understood the truth.
As the water ran over me, washing away the grime of the past two days, I felt my mind sharpen. Every splash was a reminder: they could control my body, but not my mind. They could force me to obey, but not yet break my will.
The maids fussed over me, brushing my hair and guiding me into fresh clothes. Each movement, each command, was a small battle. I obeyed outwardly, but inwardly, my thoughts raced.
"What are you thinking?" one of the younger maids whispered nervously as she adjusted my gown.
"Thinking," I said softly, almost to myself, "that no one in this palace—not even the king—knows everything I know."
Her eyes widened, but she said nothing.
Hours passed in preparation. My reflection in the polished mirror was almost unrecognizable—tidy, poised, dressed like a princess—but the fire in my eyes had not dimmed. Every gesture of obedience was measured, every nod calculated. I would give them the appearance of compliance, but I would not surrender my mind.
And then the doors to the chamber opened. A hush fell. Outside, the castle seemed to hold its breath.
The king's voice, calm now but threaded with menace, said, "Princess Eunice, come forth."
I stepped forward slowly, each footfall echoing through the corridor. My hands were at my sides, my posture perfect, yet my heart raced with anticipation and fear.
The queen followed silently, her expression torn between worry and relief. The mistress lingered near the shadows, her eyes sharp, lips curved in a faint, knowing smile.
I did not speak. I did not need to. Every gaze followed me. Every whisper carried a weight of expectation, fear, and curiosity.
The king's eyes locked on mine. "You have been prepared," he said, tone even, "and yet I wonder if obedience has truly reached you. Remember: in one week, your birthday will mark not only your name, but your marriage. You will be wed to Prince Alaric, whether you like it or not."
A shiver ran down my spine. The entire court seemed to hold its breath.
And then, just as I thought the moment could not grow more tense, the mistress stepped forward.
"Your Majesty," she said, voice soft but cutting, "the princess has been gone for two days. Who is to say she will not rebel again? Perhaps she should remain under closer supervision, at least until the ball."
The king's jaw tightened. He said nothing, only stared at me, and in that silence, I felt a weight pressing on my chest.
I knew then: the next seven days would not be mere preparation for a celebration. They would be a test—of patience, of control, and of the secrets I carried.
I looked at my mother, who whispered fiercely, "Stay strong, my child. No matter what comes."
I nodded imperceptibly, my heart pounding.
And in that heartbeat of silence, I realized: I was walking into a storm. One that would not only test my obedience but threaten everything I had yet to reveal…
Because one misstep, one whispered word, and the palace that had once been my home could become my prison.
The doors closed behind me, the shadows swallowing the corridor, and my mind raced with a single thought:
I must survive this week. I must.