Merciless

Prologue

         From a dark door at the end of a long hallway of cells comes the screaming of a man in immense pain. The sound of a whip smacking against flesh comes along with his screams as well as other disgusting sounds of torture. The screaming goes on for hours until the screams are naught but hoarse, guttural cries. It is apparent that he has no information to give to his interrogator--or is refusing to give any information that he may have.

         Not long after the man's screams grow quiet, a small, dark-haired woman emerges from the room, looking displeased.

         "Come and put this traitor in his new home," she says with a malicious sneer. "He's refusing to talk and until he does, he can rot in here. I'm sure he's part of the rebellion that's brewing but unless he outright confesses to it, I cannot do more than leave him to sit in here on suspected grounds of treason.  At least if he talked, I'd have reason to order an execution but oh well, it's his remaining years of agony. I'll just have to keep working on him until he talks."

         "As you wish, Lady Sadaria," the guards snap to do her bidding as she walks off with a swirl of skirts and the click of heels. They place the man in a cell near the torture room--a cell that appears to have extremely high security. Whoever this man is, he must be important.

         The guards leave the man to his misery in his cell. As they walk out of sight of the cell, a tiny girl with black curls emerges from around the corner where she must have been hiding. She approaches the man's cell with curiosity.

         The man cracks his eyes open to look at the young girl from his position on the floor. He is a man at the end of his prime but with wiry muscles that are surely stronger than they look. His hair, which appears to have once been deep brown, is now graying. A deep intelligence and wisdom shines out of his hazel eyes.

         "What are you doing down here, sweetheart? The dungeons are not a place for small children--especially not a young, innocent girl like yourself," he says in a gruff voice. He tries to sit up to see her better but fails as pain shoots through his entire body.

         "I always walk down here. I like to talk to the people down here. They tell me stories," she answers. She looks no more than six or seven years old.

         "What's your name, dearie?"

         "Katherine," she replies, cheerful as can be.

         "And how do your parents feel about you wandering down here, Katherine?" he answers in a stern voice--or as stern of a voice a man weakened by torture can answer in.

         "My father died when I was three." Katherine holds up three fingers. "And mother... mother doesn't like to see me. She always ignores me when I'm around or sends me away."

         "Then who looks after you? Do you have any friends your own age in the castle?" the man questions, feeling pity for this girl. Now he can understand why she's always wandering the dungeons. He doubts she has any supervision at all.

         "Well, Cook always makes me breakfast and her assistants are super nice. I have tutors who teach me how to count and sew and boring things like that. I'm learning how to ride horses now and mother has promised that I'll be allowed to learn basic fighting soon!" Katherine chatters. "I sometimes play with the servants' children but mother doesn't like that. She tries to get me to play with the prince but he's boring. He only wants to play fight and stupid things like that. That's why I come down here--the people down here are interesting. They tell me stories of what it's like outside of the castle. I've never been outside of castle walls."

         "Well, I'll tell you what, little Kat, I promise I'll tell you stories if you come visit me. After all, I feel as though I'm going to be in here for a long time and it would be my pleasure to keep you company. However, you must promise me something," he says.

         "What?"

         "Be careful who you talk to down here. Many of the people in here are dangerous.  I know you're down here a lot and you haven't been hurt yet but that doesn't mean it couldn't happen. Many of these people have murdered, stolen, and done much worse things. I do not want to imagine what they could do to a small, overly-curious girl like yourself," he tells her.

         "Okay, mister...er, what's your name?" she answers him, hesitantly.

         "You can call me Ace. The true origin of that name will be found out in time but for now, I'll just say it's because I play a wicked game of cards," he answers with a twinkle in his eye. "Now go, Katherine, I think I hear the guards approaching. I don't want you to get caught and banned from these dungeons just as our new friendship has begun. "

         "Bye, Mister Ace," Katherine says as she turns on her heel and walks away, sinking into the shadows of the dungeon.

         Ace sighs and rests face down on the cool, cell floor. He can't help but wonder what part that too-curious, intelligent, and broken child will have to play in the events that will be enfolding in this kingdom during the coming years.

Chapter 1

12 years later

         All I’ve ever known is war. Everywhere I go I see, hear, and even smell warfare. Troops are drilling in the courtyards, armories are constantly being restocked, and no matter where I go in the city I can’t escape the smell of gunpowder.

         That isn’t to say that there’s a war going on in the city right now—because there isn’t. However, there may well be one with all the troops we have milling about. The actual war is being fought on the other side of the kingdom but the king is paranoid so we have troops here too. He also likes wasting his people’s money—our ungodly high taxes are being used to pay for all these damn troops.

         Maybe if he’d lower the taxes, his own people would stop rebelling against him. No, that’s a preposterous idea.

         This is the world I live in. I have it a lot better than most, I suppose. I have food, at least. Actually, my life is a whole hell of a lot better than essentially everyone else’s life. The only people who have it better off than me are lords and the king himself.

         I guess that’s the one and only perk of having a mother who’s the head of the kingdom’s interrogation department (i.e. torture department).

         Speaking of that, I hear the screams coming from behind her “office” as I make my daily stroll through the dungeons. The screams and horrifying noises coming from behind that door haven’t ever bothered me. I’m not sure why. Possibly a genetic quirk inherited from my bloodthirsty mother.

         I make my rounds in the dungeons, saying hello to a few prisoners but generally just ignoring them as they ignore me. The guards, too, ignore me. They are resigned of my presence down here after years and years of defiance against their attempts to dissuade me from visiting. Finally, I make my way to a specific cell.

         “Hi, Ace!”

         “Why hello, sweetheart,” he turns around and sends me a beaming smile, “You getting ready for the ball, tonight? Well, obviously not, judging by the state of your hair and dress. What have you been doing, girl? Rolling around in the dirt?”

         I laugh. “No, I just finished up with some of my hand-to-hand combat lessons. I figured I’d come down here and visit while my mother is occupied. I have strict orders to report to my chambers at 6 o’clock sharp so she can prepare me for the ball.  I can’t decide if I or the poor bastard she’s with right now have the worse fate.”

         “Hmmm…that’s a difficult one. I don’t imagine you’ll be doing much screaming while she’s preparing you for the ball though. Speaking as a man who’s been in that room with her, I think he has the worse fate.”

         I wince, remembering the days I used to come down here with water and bandages after Ace had a “session” with my mother. Thankfully, she gave up on him after a couple years of not receiving any answers. He’s been living in his cell rather peacefully for the past ten years. He has books stacked up, actual decent blankets, and he gets plenty of food. All in all, he’s living better than some of the common people—minus the cell bars.

         “However, I would gladly spend many more hours in that torture room of hers in place of being her daughter,” Ace continues.

         “Yeah, she’s not exactly the maternal type.”

         “I’d imagine not. Is she still desperately trying to marry you off?”

         “Unfortunately,” I sigh.

         “Have you realized that if you marry that means you’ll be out of her clutches?” Ace points out.

         “Of course I’ve realized that. But it means that I’ll have to be under the control of that man. I just want to be free from anyone’s control,” I say, wistfully.

         “What if you marry a man who treats you like an equal? A man who won’t control you?”

         “And where do you propose I find that man? Because as far as I’ve seen, any man under King Victor’s rule is just as much of a misogynist as him,” I answer, sardonically.

         Ace lowers his voice to a mock whisper, “Perhaps you should marry a rebel, then.”

         I open and close my mouth, not daring to believe that he just said what I think he said. I always knew that Ace had been brought here under suspicion of being part of the rebel alliance. He’s never said anything about it to me, though, in the twelve years I’ve spent coming down here to visit him.

         As I stand there dumbstruck, I hear the chiming of the castle’s bell indicating that it’s five o’clock.

         Ace hears the bell, also.

         “You’d best be off, Kat. I don’t envy your mother’s wrath if she finds you down here when she emerges from her torture chamber.”

         Now that I think about it, the screams emanating from the room stopped a couple minutes ago which can only mean that my mother has halted her efforts and is cleaning her instruments of torture. She could emerge from the door at any second.

         I nod and wave at Ace as I quickly run off to my chamber.

         It’s not that my mother doesn’t know I wander the dungeons. It’s a habit I’ve had from a very young age—even a mother as awful as her would know this fact. However, I still try to avoid having her actually catch me in the act. The few times it has happened have not been pretty, to say the least.

         And today, specifically, I want to stay on her good side. I’m hoping it will gain me mercy from her as she prepares me like a prized animal for slaughter for the ball.

         When I arrive in the chambers I share with my mother, Maria, our maid, has a bath drawn and waiting for me. I sigh in pleasure as I step into the bath and my weary muscles relax from the heat of the water. I wash myself and then relax while I wait for the foreboding slam of the front door that will announce my mother’s arrival.

         As soon as I hear that door slam, I jump out of the water and scramble into my room to dress myself in the despicable man-catcher—or as most people would call it: gown—that my mother picked out for me. I can’t exactly despise the dress though—just its purpose. I fell in love with it as soon as I tried it on at the tailor’s shop. It is a beautiful sapphire blue that matches my eyes and it has been fit to perfection. As much as I want to hate it because my mother picked it out, I cannot because it is the most exquisite piece of clothing I have ever worn.

         Maria knocks and steps into my room to help me put on the dress.

         “I must hurry, Kat. I have to help your mother get ready too. We both know she won’t be happy if I’m too late in helping her. I should’ve urged you to get out of the bath sooner but I know how relaxing you find it to be,” Maria says quickly while tugging my dress tight in the back with nimble fingers. I think I hear her mutter something like” “The gods know I’d need some relaxation if I lived with her too.”

         I hear the click of heels outside the door just before my mother walks in the door. She appears to have put her dress on herself. I have no idea how but she did. I’m impressed.

         “Maria, not only did I have to put my dress on myself but you are not putting Katherine’s dress on right. Why on earth do I keep you around? You’re useless,” my mother says as soon as she steps in the door.

         “Sorry, ma’am, “ Maria mutters as she is pushed to the side by my mother. My mother takes hold of the strings of my corset and pulls them so tight I can hardly breathe. I gasp and sputter, but she only pulls the strings tighter.

         “How was your day, mother?” I ask in an attempt to make conversation with what little breath the corset allows me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Maria scurry out the door. I can’t blame her at all for wanting to be as far away from my mother as possible.

         “It would be better if you had already been in your dress when I arrived here,” she answers tersely.

         “I had to bathe after my lessons this afternoon.”

         “You finished with lessons at four. You had plenty of time to bathe after them. What have you been up to for the past hour? Don’t tell me you were down in the dungeons speaking to that filthy traitor again.”

         “And if I was?”

         “You know I don’t like you down there. I feel as if he is tainting your brain.”

         “Just because he’s telling me about things you’ve kept from me, he’s tainting my br—Ow!” She has moved on to fixing my hair and stabbed me with a pin. So much for staying on her good side today. 

         She shushes me and I sink into a sulking silence while she finishes my hair. Finally, she finishes her torture of me with some paint to enhance my face. 

         “There. That wasn’t so bad. I don’t know why you are being so pouty about this. You look beautiful, Katherine,” she says as she puts down the brush with the red lip paint. “Now, I’m going to go finish getting myself ready. Try not to rumple your dress.” 

“Where did that useless maid go, anyway? Oh well, I can get myself ready better than she could,” I hear her mutter as she walks to her chamber.

I turn to look at myself in the grand mirror in my bedchamber. My mother is not wrong. She has made me look very impressive. I could almost pass for one of the beauties here at court. Almost. I am not quiet, submissive, or polite enough to be counted a beauty. The men who have tried to court me before have found this out the hard way. I’ve had many a quarrel with my mother over my displeasing attitude toward the men she’s thrown at me in the past. But I suppose that’s what she gets for trying to force me to marry against my wishes.

I indulge myself and twirl around a few times to see my skirt flow around me. As much as I hate being put on display like this, I do love the dresses I am allowed to wear for the display.

         I stop twirling and smiling like a vain fool once I hear my mother approach my doorway.

         “Let’s go, Katherine. We mustn’t be late for the feast,” she says. I hesitate and she grabs my arm roughly, pulling me along.

         As soon as we leave our apartment, she releases my arm but still figuratively tugs me along. We go through the living corridors, down several flights of stairs, and arrive in the large entry room of the palace. The doors are flung open and outside I see guests arriving in carriages. These guests have, obviously, been carefully searched before being allowed onto royal grounds. And they are all, obviously, extremely loyal to the king—and wealthy.

         My mother walks down the corridor to the grand ballroom where the festivities are being held. I follow reluctantly behind her.

         Before she enters the hall, she stops and plasters her courtier smile on her face. A maid carrying dishes into the hall sees her and scampers through the door in fear. My mother smiling is like a wolf bearing its teeth before it devours its prey.

         With that thought in mind, I, too, put on my courtier face and follow her into the ballroom.