Swear On My Mortal Soul

Chapter Four

Rhia

"I bet he's good in bed," Sybil crooned.

Esme rolled her eyes over him, assessing the damage. "He must make up for it somehow."

The Prince of Banetry was little different than she remembered him all those years ago. His face was plainer, but accented by the crown atop his head. He stood tall despite his leg, and carried his walking stick like he might whack someone with it at any moment. A weapon, as if he'd never stopped fighting.

Rhia was biding her time in the shadows while Caius was made to suffer formalities among the royals. His darting eyes kept landing upon her, and she knew that she wasn't going to run. At least not yet.

Her mind raced back to before the Rite. To the Feast following the arrival of all attending royals for the grand ceremony. Her first, and only, personal encounter with him.

She wasn't supposed to see him. He, Conan, and Arros had rooms on opposite sides of the castle. It was bad luck for them to be out and about, mingling with each other before fighting. They would mingle afterward. They weren't supposed to die.

Rhia had snuck off from the Feast. She'd never liked them, and that had never changed. Evadne was born from the queen's womb tiring, Rhia had always claimed. And she wasn't meant to be a lady-in-waiting. Too tiresome a game. Helping the younger girl dress and socialize like anyone would remember her at the end of the night.

No, Rhia had went to see her friend Arros.

She'd meant to wish him well in the Rite, but things had gone... awry. He had not wanted to be friends any longer, and so she did all she could do. She walked away. The voice in her head whispered that it was the stress of the Rite making him act in such a way.

She had never gotten the chance to ask.

A single tear dripped as she disappeared several corridors, not caring where she was as long as it was away from the Feast. The draft pulling through the window caught at her, so she leaned halfway out and watched as her tear disappeared into the night.

"Please don't jump," Caius had said, his voice a small, demanding plea. "I've never seen anyone die before. And when I do, I hope they will deserve the death."

A prince, indeed.

Rhia pulled herself from the window, the thought of jumping never crossing her mind. "Perhaps I do deserve it. Would you know if I didn't?"

A sliver of moonlight brought but half of Caius' dark face into view. His blue eyes were a stark contrast to his skin and hair. She envied the color. Her own eyes were gray, never blue. "I think death is an ugly thing. And you are... not."

She wanted badly to laugh at the attempt, and hoped her amusement wasn't reaching her eyes. "So beautiful women do not die?"

Caius was rendered speechless. Well enough. He wasn't any good with words, anyway.

Rhia turned from him, having figured she'd probably messed with him enough. Boys were easy prey. Men, even easier.

The fog creeped over the hills in the distance, glowing by starlight and dampening the air she desperately needed. She pretended the touch of it wound around her neck, cooling her hot skin and her hot temper, suppressed within her stomach.

"You w-will not go closer," Caius stammered. A boy used to getting his own way. He had no experience with girls, it seemed.

Arros, the young prince that he was, yielded to only three people-the queen, the princess, and Lady Rhia. Especially Rhia.