The Book of Sea and Shore

Jealousy and Loss

                Grabbing a nearby pillow, she hugged it to her bare chest, ignoring the way the touch of fabric burned the scratches Ryon had made.

                Her cheek still stung as Linnea touched it gingerly. A mark was starting to appear in her reflection along with bruises on her arms. She had lived with the abuse of her brother her entire life, from pulled hair and bruised shoulders when they were children to more extreme abuses as he entered into adulthood. He was careful not to leave any scars, but she knew that her parents were aware of what happened. They cared for her as much as Ryon did. She was only a tool to increase Penpotia’s status.

                Picking up a small bell from beside her chair, Linnea rang it twice. Immediately, three servants entered, each woman with pitch black hair and an expressionless gaze. They didn’t bat an eyelash at the tattered remains of clothing on the floor or the scratches and bruises on their princess. They only picked up the mess and readied a new gown. They helped Linnea undress fully and redress, combed her ratted hair into a braid, and washed the blood from her hands his scented oil.

                With shaking breath, Linnea adjusted the new stone necklace at her collar and left her chambers. The hardest part would be to face her parents. Ryon has left the letter wrinkled on the floor when he had stormed out. Linnea bent to scoop in up, feeling her pulse turn unusually cold.

                The Grand Palace of Penpotia was carved directly into the steep stone of the mountain, thus had many stories and many, many stairs. Linnea spent her time in her chambers, high above the throne room, which is where her parents would be. This was another form of punishment from Ryon, of course. It was difficult for Linnea to make it up and down so many flights of stairs, and he knew that well. Linnea was short of breath by the time she entered the throne room. As expected, the king and queen sat, looking bored with the pleas of one of the villagers. The queen cast her gaze at her daughter, who entered between two of the dozens of enormous black columns in the room.

                “Yes, we will take that into consideration,” she said, waving a wrist at the villager and then motioning for Linnea to come forward. “What is it, Linnea? Your father and I are busy at the moment.”

                Linnea’s breath caught in her throat, making it challenging to speak clearly.

                “I have news regarding… the High Prince.”

                “Yes,” King Linneus growled, arm propped onto the throne to rest his face, “what is it? Have he offered a date for the wedding? You are not quite twenty, Linnea.”

                “No… he… has not. He would rather the wedding be called off.”

                The queen glared down at her approaching child. The king looked baffled, face turning red.

                “And what is the meaning of this?” Queen Eira spat. “Even you would not be fool enough to jest so.”

                Linnea felt the tears come back to her eyes, but she held them back, the letter pressed firmly to her breast.

                “The High Prince has sent word that he no longer wishes to continue the engagement. He has … uncertainties… and would prefer that I find someone else.”

                The King blubbered in anger, a throbbing vein apparent on his thick neck. The Queen’s glare grew more intense, her ruby lips twisted into a scowl.