The False Princess

The False Princess: Chapter 1

A muscle tightened in Demetria's jaw. The reeve had been after her father's farm for years, but this year he had stepped up his efforts.

"Who is the lucky boy?" she asked. "Is it you Pallit? Is that why you're tagging along with Hathan, looking for handouts from his father?"

Pallit's face darkened, but Hathan laughed. "You'll make a good butcher's wife, smart as you are."

Demetria thought to spit in the dirt and tell Pallit that he could find someone else to make his babies for him, but she held back. Pallit was strong, but Demetria's body had been hardened with work in the fields and forest. She was not scared of him, and there were worse men who the reeve could force on her.

"So I marry Pallit," she said, glancing between the two of them, "and my father keeps his farm?"

Hathan and Pallit both laughed again, and off to their right, the workers slid another heavy stone into place on the new mill.

"You'll be at work in the butcher's shop," Pallit grinned. "And then in a year or so, when your father realizes his farm is more trouble than its worth, he'll sell to the reeve. Or," his smile turned nasty, "Or the winter will do its work, his farm will come to us, and I'll sell it to the reeve."

"If that's your plan," Demetria snarled. "Then you can keep it. I'm not infirm yet, and you'll see just how much I can do before the first freeze."

"Not yet." Hathan's smile widened. "But how well can you harvest wheat if you've got a broken arm?" He picked up a rock from the ground, broken from the mill workers, and stepped toward her. Demetria bent down and snatched a branch from the wood she'd been carrying, but even as she lifted it, her heart sank. It was a dry, brittle thing, and all three of them knew it.

A shout from the mill stopped them all for a moment, and Demetria turned to see one of the builders walking toward them.

"This does not seem a fair fight," he snarled. He had a shock of dirty-blond hair that stuck out in all directions from a hard day's work, and his shoulders were broader than near any Demetria had seen before. He smiled, towering over Pallit as he stepped quickly up. "If you boys have so much strength left," he snapped. "We have three more stones to move into place before dark. Perhaps you should come help."

Hathan's eyes snapped to him, and his face twisted angrily. "Who are you calling 'boy'?" he asked. "You're no older than we are."

"And yet I'm wise enough to not start fights with women," the builder said. "Behave like children and I'll call you children. Now come and help, or people will wonder why the reeve's son refused to give aid to the building of their mill."

Pallit glared at Demetria, but Hathan tossed the stone to the ground. "Come Pallit," he muttered. "She'll get hers soon enough."

He growled wordlessly and pushed the two of them toward the mill.

"Your fathers aren't working you enough if you've got the energy to stir up trouble." He nodded at Demetria over his shoulder and gave the boys another push. The builders had been in town only a few weeks, and when the mill was finished, they'd leave. Demetria had not learned their names, but she gave a smile of thanks as he turned away.

She hefted up the bundle of wood and pulled it high on her back as she started homeward again. Pallit threw her another glance. But the builder was pulling him toward a heavy square stone at the base of a pulley as Demetria lost sight of them behind the old mill. Old Billia was herding her chickens into their coop, and she gave a quick wave as Demetria went by.

Demetria gave a sigh of relief as she turned into the lane that led to her house, but her relief was short-lived. The small gate in front of her home slammed shut as the Reeve stepped into the lane. His face was twisted in anger and he was muttering to himself as he strode out, swinging his staff as he walked. His eyes narrowed as he spotted Demetria, even as she made to step back, and his expression slid into a foul smile.

"You should tell your father that there are worse things than an ill marriage, girl." He slowed as he approached her. "You could do much worse than the butcher's son, and your father could do much better than starving this winter."

"We aren't starving yet," Demetria hefted the firewood higher on her shoulders. "And it's still a while until the frost." She met his gaze defiantly. She'd start harvesting tomorrow before dawn if she had to, and work through the night to make sure they brought it all in.

"Don't count on it," the Reeve smiled. "So many things that can go wrong, I'd hate to see such a rich harvest go to waste." He eyed her a moment, then squared his shoulders. "You're not a fool Demetria, you know your father is in no condition to take proper care of this land. It's rich enough to produce twice what you're getting, and it's being squandered."

"It's rich because we don't overwork it," Demetria shot back, "and because we've taken care of it for generations."

The Reeve snorted. "I will not argue with a woman not yet come of age. If you won't see reason, I will have to make it more plain."

He turned and strode off into the gathering gloom. Darkness was falling quickly, and Demetria wasted no more time in standing in the lane. She dumped the pile of wood beside the house, not bothering to stack it. She would do it in the morning, and the Reeve's words left her with a bad feeling in her stomach.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading the first part of The False Princess, I hope you enjoyed it!

I hope you enjoyed meeting Demetria, I know I'm enjoying writing her. While I've written very martial characters in the past, I wanted to explore someone who didn't grow up fighting wolves and hanging with mountain hunters. I hope you enjoy what you've seen so far, and I'm looking forward to the next chapter!

New chapters of The False Princess will be posted Mondays and Thursdays every week. If you want to read ahead a few chapters, you can check out my Patreon (patreon.com/EvanOliver), where you can see upcoming portions of The False Princess, as well as other stories, art, and more!