Teardrops of Blood

Chapter One

   Each footstep makes a light thud as I walk deliberately down the castle hall. "Emma?" I spin around, hoping it looks as dramatic as it feels. Ruth stands behind me, a bemused look on her face. In her mid-thirties, her light, wispy hair and soft freckles make her look much younger. "Hi, Ruth!" I say, grinning broadly. She's my favorite servant in the castle. She's supposed to look after me, but sometimes I slip away so I can roam the halls pretending to be a ferocious warrior queen. "Playing Queen again?" She asks lightly, reaching out to tuck a strand of my unruly hair behind my ear. "I'll have to redo that braid, missy," she tells me, smiling as she takes me by the hand and gently leads me back along the corridors to my chambers. "I can't wait for the banquet to start!" I hop up and down with excitement. I've never been to a banquet before, and I can't wait to taste all the food. My parents, the King and Queen, are inviting all the nobles in the land, and there will be music and dancing all night long! Ruth opens the door to my chambers and leads me inside. I wait for the door to click, signaling it's all the way shut, like always, and then I run to my night stand and pick up my brush. I'm so excited for tonight I don't mind the long, painful task of unbraiding and brushing my long brown hair as much as usual. But doing my hair for tonight is another matter entirely. Ruth yanks my hair so tight and jabs so many hair pins into my scalp I begin to fear I won't have any hair left by the time she's done. "Ow, Ruth," I complain, shifting on my chair.
   "Don't be such a crybaby." She twists my hair so tightly it brings tears to my eyes. "There, I'm done." She scrutinizes my hair and sighs. "Oh, well. It's the best I could do. It's not my fault you're so ugly." She pauses, staring at me. "Well, do I at least get a thank you?" I'm still staring at my reflection in the mirror. I don't think I look ugly exactly. Certainly not pretty, not with the dark shiners under my eyes and my deathly-white pallor, but I want to pretend I'm as pretty as I want to look. A swift smack across my neck brings me sharply back to reality. "WELL!?!"
   "Oh! Thank you. Thank you, I'm sorry. Sorry." I feel really bad I didn't thank her right away, especially since it earned me a bruise on the back of my neck I won't be able to cover up. Ruth grabs a huge, pouffy dress from my wardrobe, and I groan. I hate dresses. In response, Ruth throws the dress down onto my bed. "Well then, since you're so determined to hate everything I do for you, why don't you get into it yourself. I'll be waiting in my chambers for my apology for your outrageous behavior. Your parents are definitely hearing about this."
   "What? No!"
   "Oh, yes. I don't tolerate this kind of crap, and they don't either. Oh, grow up," she adds scornfully when I cringe at the word crap.
  "No, don't, please! I'm sorry!" I beg, but she just sneers at me. Well, you should have thought of that." She turns on her heel and flounces out, the door clicking closed behind her, my pleas still trailing from my lips as tears pour down my face. What have I done? "Stupid idiot," I mutter, angry at myself. The two forbidden words I just uttered feel delicious and rebellious in my mouth. I want to be naughty. I want to be actually bad for once. I want to show them all that they can't do that to me. I just know my father's going to spank me, and I probably won't get to attend the banquet, either. My breathing gets fast and shallow, and I form a fist, my fingernails digging into my palm. I slam my fist into my forehead, again and again. "You deserve to hurt," I whisper furiously to myself. "You don't deserve anything. You useless piece of trash." My father's footsteps at the far end of the hall snap me back into action. I grab the dress and start trying to cram myself into it. I sniff violently, trying not to look like I was just crying. Too late. My door opens just as I shove my arms into the sleeves. "Emma!" Oh no.