Dark Kingdom

I ate the cupcake and I didn’t regret it.

Okay, I guess I regretted it a little bit, especially as I followed the men down the street and saw the empty, hungry eyes of the people out there. I use to be one of those people, after all. I tell myself to focus on those in front of me, to follow them silently, but my eyes dart about and take in all that I hadn’t seen in over a year, ever since my capture.

The cupcake had been a gift from the serving girl that had been assigned to me. She had begged the cook to give it to her. The cook complied, only when the girl swore that it was a gift for me, the love of Prince Ryan’s life. Only then.

I would have shared it with the girl, who cannot tell me her name due to the rule the king sent down of servants being known by their common names, but she fled the minute she gave it to me. My companion, Estelle, told me the story about the cook. I don’t know where she gets her information, but it is always accurate.

Estelle walks at my side, though a half step behind me, as is the custom. As is the law. Why pretend that it’s anything other than what it is? Forced slavery. Many believe that those that reside in the palace are well-fed and cared for and better off, but I would rather be out here, with the masses, starving, than in my current situation. Even with the taste of chocolate lingering on my tongue. I’d trade it all for freedom.

The purpose of this stroll is lost on me and Estelle had only shrugged when I looked at her in askance. So, something was up. But what?

I had flung a stone at the Royal Guardians a year ago, after they had dragged my father into the streets and trampled him with their large horses hooves. I could see the terror in those that watched, but I had a cold, impassive feeling deep in my soul. My father was all I had left of my small family, my brother having been killed in the war and my mother dying of hunger and some illness we never defined. So, for him to be brutally murdered for the amusement of the men was too much. Ultimately, I decided that I wanted to die, too. Right then, under my own terms.

The rock had hit the head Guardian and knocked him from his horse. The horse then trod upon the man’s head, killing him instantly. I believe it was the animal’s way of rejecting all the Guardians called them to do, trampling men, women, and children. The crowd turned on me instantly and shoved me forward, into the street. I faced the Guardians without fear.

“What is the meaning of this?” one demanded, right as another proclaimed, “Sir! He’s dead!”

“You killed my father,” I replied, indicated his crumbled and trodden form on the bloody cobblestones.

“You killed our Commander,” he replied and I shrugged. The man’s eyes narrowed and I waited for the death decree. Instead, there was silence as the Guardians parted and the prince himself rode his pure white horse forward.

“What has happened here?” he asked, in the quiet calm that brought stillness to all those around me and fear to my heart.

“She killed Guardian Delvi, Sire,” the other supplied, readily.

“They killed my father,” I retorted. The large horse of the fallen Commander moved around and stood behind me. Oddly, I knew it wasn’t to trap me. I could smell the sweaty flesh of the beast and I knew, from the way its side pressed firmly against my back, that the horse had taken a defensive stance, a protective stance.

“Let the whelp live and proceed. We have much to do this day,” Prince Ryan replied coldly, his pale blue eyes finding mine, flicking over me with disdain. “And kill the horse.”

I can only blame desperation, fury, and madness for what happened next. The Royal Guardians actually hesitated, knowing the value of a Guardian horse, before they moved forward…or tried to. The horse behind me swiveled and moved to my side and the other horses stopped advancing, even with the Guardians prodding. I frowned and retrieved the stone and, with a moment of slow, whirling anger, threw it directly at Prince Ryan’s black-haired head.

His horse was more loyal than the Commander’s, for it back stepped, and the stone fell short…but only by inches. The fury in Prince Ryan’s eyes returned the strength to my resolve to die and to do so my way. I patted the horse’s neck and leapt into the fray.

There were hooves and neighing and shouts and chaos before something hit me solidly from behind and knocked me to the ground. I waited for the hooves, for the stamping of death, but instead felt a solid hit on the center of my skull and was enveloped in darkness.

I awoke in the palace, with Estelle and the nameless servant girl, and found myself rumored to be the betrothed of Prince Ryan, which I never believed myself. I have not seen him since that day. Estelle told me of riots in the streets that were quickly and quietly quelled and about the mighty horse, the one that saved my life. It had knocked me down and had only allowed one Guardian to approach, a young man by the name of Eric DuLoc. Eric rendered me unconscious by the Prince’s decree, and they placed me on the horse, whose name, I later learned, was Gallagher. They brought me to the palace and began to treat me like royalty. Imprisoned royalty, but royalty nonetheless.

Now, suddenly, a parade through those same streets. I truly believed, suddenly, that death had arrived for me at last. A public execution. I just hoped they spared Estelle and the serving girl. Of course, the serving girl wasn’t with us…so, she would be spared.

The men parted as we arrived at the grand square in the center of town. It used to be so beautiful, before the war, before the regime took over. Now it was a dark and dreadful place, the gray stones stained red by the blood of our men and women. There, in the center, by the great fountain, stood Gallagher, wreathed in flowers and greenery. He neighed happily upon seeing me, but didn’t move. His Guardian training was always in full force. I had only seen him in the yards through the palace windows.

Estelle prods me to move forward and I do so, fully aware of the starved faces surrounding me. The square itself is empty, except for Gallagher, Estelle, and myself. The silence is deafening. Just as I reach the horse and he nuzzles my hand, Prince Ryan strides into the square, his face determined and set. His black hair is unbound and waves down about his shoulders like a cloud of doom. His sharp features are softened by the hair, though, causing a bewildering mix of feelings within me. His purple clothing is sharp and brilliant in the midday sun.

“People of Androm,” he says loudly as he reaches me. Estelle moves to the side and eventually leaves the square completely. “Today is the day that I wed. As decreed by my father a year ago, the year of purity and distance has occurred and now our love, stronger than ever, will be bound here before you all.” Darkly, he turns to me, his eyes holding silent rage. He speaks so only I hear, “You will obey. There will be no denying me this day. I will not make you a martyr. You will marry me.”

The terror that seizes my soul is too strong to shake and I nod mutely. A priest strolls out to the square and the wedding begins. Prince Ryan does not touch me. In fact, the distance between us is feet, not inches. Can’t the people see that neither of us desire this? It matters little if they do or not. Nothing could be done to save me.

It is over too soon and Prince Ryan lifts me onto Gallagher’s back as his own steed is brought forward. Estelle appears and takes the reigns of the horse and walks beside his head in silent thought. She didn’t expect this, either, and they apparently informed her of her place as my companion and her role as the ceremony commenced. We begin the slow trek back to the palace.

Once we’ve left the square behind, a Royal Guardian appears with a brown mare and helps Estelle mount. “We are to go to the summer palace in Emphora,” she says softly. I nod, confused, and we follow Prince Ryan as the Royal Guardians close in around us. Something has been lost in all that has happened. I was a prisoner before…now I was forever bound to the dark kingdom I loathed. There was no hope for me. I would never be free again.