Roselena
"Really now, Rosie, you know better." His voice was gentle but scolding as he plucked grass and dirt out of the deep cut on my knee. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks, and I kept hiccupping as if he had beaten me without reason when, really, it was all my fault.
"I'm sorry, papa." I choked out as my chest quivered.
He had a serious look on his face, and it didn't go away even when he looked at me. Truthfully, I was never too afraid of my father. He never punished me with a heavy hand; however, he had the choice of telling my mother or not, and I really, really hoped that he wouldn't tell her. If she found out I had snuck out to play when I should have been home, I would be a dead fish in the river.
He pushed my unruly hair out of my face, "I can't keep this a secret from your mother, and I can't magically make your knee look new again."
My chin began to wobble again, and he sighed.
"We can tell mama together. I was supposed to be watching you anyway." He said it wearily with a hint of guilt.
That was why I wasn't afraid of him. He was always too soft to be really angry at me, and often, he wound up comforting me.
I suddenly wished I had just busted my kneecap on a rock again rather than being stabbed by a knife in my own hand. At the time, I thought his words weren't much of a consolation since mother gave us both the same searing lecture, but now... I longed to have my father comfort me. I would even take the lecture.
My whole body felt weak and clammy as if I'd been fighting a fever, and when I tried to open my eyes, I found that I couldn't. I could only feel the dull, bruising pain radiating from my side to my back, ribs, and hips. Only when I felt a particularly sharp pang shoot up to my neck did I make a small groaning noise.
A surprised gasp prefaced the sound of shuffling and the feeling of a hand pressing against my forehead.
"Mama, I think her fever's finally letting up." The woman gasped again and something landed on my damp upper lip. "Oh, thank god! She's still breathing. I thought she was dead for a second there."
"Shush, Bethany."
I made another, louder groaning sound.
"We should send word to the Duke. She should be able to make the trip in a week's time if she continues to recover like this."
Bethany made a dissatisfied noise, "The whole city is in chaos. I don't know if traveling is the best idea..."
"It's not up to us, is it?"
There was a second of silence, and Bethany sounded a bit upset. "Mama, you knew her mother well. Aren't you the most qualified person to look after her? Can't you go with her?"
More silence.
"Who knows what they'll do to her..." Bethany murmured.
Her words made my heart rate pick up, and anxiety began to make my empty stomach turn. Who were they going to send me to?
"Don't be ridiculous. Go send word while I redress her wound. Now."
I felt Katar lift the covers off of me, making me feel cooler. A rag gently dragged over my damp skin, soaking up some of the gathered sweat. Then Katar began messing with something near my wound. Immediately, my eyes opened wide, and my hands moved weakly to push hers without any real success. Tears sprung to the corners of my eyes, and I tried to move away despite the dull ache.
Katar looked exhausted as she looked down at me. "Calm down."
Her voice was gentle and commanding but my chin wobbled anyway. "It hurts."
"I know it does, but it's a miracle you even survived that god awful fever. We can't let the wound get infected again. Now, lie still."
Her face was stoney as if willing herself not to crack like a baked desert floor. And of course, she didn't crack. She was too good for that.
As she continued unwrapping my wound, I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and looked up at the dark, grimy ceiling of whatever place I was in.
"How do you know my mother?" I asked in a strained voice.
Her movements paused for a moment before she grabbed a glass jar of clear liquid. She uncapped it, grabbed a spoon, and began to pour it over my wound. It didn't burn much at all. Rather, it felt cool on the hot, pulsing skin of my left abdomen.
"I don't know how much you know, but I was your mother's maid and caretaker when she was a young princess in the Bermillian palaces. She had yet to make her debut into high society, and she left before she ever could.
"Your mother saved my first child by faking both their deaths, and I had no idea what had become of her until you showed up. One look, and I knew who you were."
Katar took clean white cloth and placed it over my wound before wrapping the other cloth over it. Meanwhile, I tried to process that my mother was a runaway princess who rescued Katar's child, which was unlike what Bethany told me. She said that Katar she a baby boy with the king that was later taken away.
"I thought your son was taken by the queen."
She sat on the bed and covered up my practically naked body, "The king and I were lovers, and though forbidden as it was, we made a mistake, and I became pregnant with a baby boy I named Jonas. Your mother and I were quite close – she was quite mature for a young girl, and when she heard that the queen was also pregnant, she made up her mind to do what it took to keep her nephew safe."
It was common practice for illegitimate children to be killed, and if what she was saying was true, and my brother – who was actually my cousin – would have had a death sentence on his head as a baby just for existing.
She smiled sadly, "The king and I kept quiet all these years. I married my husband and lived an honest life as the head maid until we were invaded. I never thought I would ever meet Rainara's child."
She reached down from where she stood and touched my cheek gently, "You look just like your mother, you know that? It feels like I'm meeting her once more."
Katar's eyes seemed to water a bit before she dropped her hand to her side again and swallowed. "How was she the last time you saw her?"
"My mother passed away when I was 15." I told her with a small nod. "She was happy though. That much I know was true."
She seemed stunned for a second but she recovered well. "And your father?"
I looked at her oddly for a second. "You know my father?"
She tilted her head with a quick shrug. "I just assumed they'd wind up with each other. Both of them were young when they left."
When I still looked at her in confusion, she clarified.
"Your father was the son of the military chief who was in charge of protecting the princess. She always followed him around when they were kids."
Everything about him made sense now. Actually, the more I thought about my childhood in the context of what I'd just learned, a lot about my parents' behavior made sense. I just wished I didn't have to find out this way.
Especially the lie about them meeting at 15 and falling in love so young. She never told me that she chose to run away and live with her childhood friend and protector for the rest of her life. Though there was something romantic and tragic about that too...
Katar moved on to making soup for me to eat, leaving me ample time to think about the sudden revelations. Though I would never admit it, I spent so much time resenting my father for giving Jonas special attention. If I had known it was because my brother had rights to the throne, I would never have complained.
My eyes shifted around the small room. There was a door directly to my left and a curtained window across from the bed. A small little grill was set up on the far wall to my left where Katar stood.
"Where are we?"
"An abandoned cellar on the outskirts of the capitol. When Vallar told us what happened to you, we found you unconscious on the ground under a dead man. I was desperate to find help, and the only help I could find was Joaquim." she stirred the boiling pot. "He told me the King was dealing with an emergency and proceeded to lead us into the secret tunnel system with you in tow."
"Why?" I found myself asking.
She shrugged. "It's a well-known fact that the king favors you. Some even think he's taken you as a lover. That's why."
I frowned as I remembered King Rovan's last words about me. Barely even palatable. I wished I thought and felt the same about him. In fact, I should have felt the same, but oddly enough, I felt fear with an underlying attraction that made me think I was a masochist of some sort. It was unfair, but now that I was out of that palace and out of his reach, it didn't matter.
"Did he?" She asked suddenly.
I raised my brows, "Pardon?"
"It's not unheard of for Dhernon royalty to sleep with their maids and subjects. So I'm asking, did he make you his lover?" She didn't turn to look at me. After a beat of time, she added, "This is important for you as a princess."
Uncomfortably, I answered. "No. He never touched me."
"Good. Even if he did, always respond the way you just did." Was all she said as she kept adding ingredients to her broth.
I turned my head and lifted my weak arms to rest over my eyes. The king was an odd character. He was cold, aloof, and incredibly hard to read, and sometimes he seemed like he was unhinged, barely keeping it together. Yet, he never forced me to do anything I didn't want to. He never even asked anything of me.
In hindsight, he was quite an intimidating and scary person in the flesh, and I was sure I'd feel the same way if he was standing in the room at this very moment. But after what happened that night... How that man brusquely took what he wanted without care for anyone but himself. As if that wasn't bad enough, he was also indignant and petty as if it were his human right to do whatever he wanted... It made me realize that there was an entirely different kind of cruelty I'd never been exposed to before.
(!) The king never made me feel as afraid as that man did when he threatened to rape and kill me for not allowing him to do it to another person. He even ridiculed the Most High in such a crass and bold manner. But I suppose, he paid for both with his life.
As I tried not to feel sick from the emptiness in my stomach, I felt regret. Perhaps, I was too harsh on the King. Perhaps, I was too blinded by my fear of him to really understand him as a person.
Then I questioned whether it really mattered or not. After nearly dying, nothing really seemed to matter. Not the lies my parents told me, not my father's negligence, and certainly not the belligerent, rude King.
I felt re-energized despite the fact that I was bound to a bed at the moment. This process of recovering was the first step to living my life no matter how complicated it was. I had only one person to thank.
I closed my eyes and poured out my gratitude to be alive up to the skies above where I knew the Most High was watching.
Lowering my arms, I turned my attention back to Katar who was walking toward me with a bowl and spoon.
"What's happened since I disappeared?"
She moved to help me sit up, which left me a panting and throbbing mess against the cold stonewall of the room. She helped me lift the covers to cover my exposed body and I lowered my arms over the cloth to keep it in place. Usually, I'd feel shy and embarrassed about being exposed, but I was too tired to care.
"A lot's happened in the past four days." She said as she blew on my soup.
"I can eat myself." I told her as I reached for it.
She ignored me and proceeded to drop the weight of surprising news, "It's rumored that the queen has angered the gods and judgment was placed on her. She was executed at the coronation."
Impulsively, I asked, "What of the king?"
Katar pursed her lips, "Some wanted to accuse him of killing her since it was his sword, but the high mages admitted that he wouldn't have been able to use magic while he was under their ritual spell.
"Now the kingdom is in chaos with citizens becoming a bit hopeful that Dhernon's control won't hold."
Furrowing my brows, I opened my mouth to speak again. However, I was cut off by the sound of people bustling in at the door to my left. A tall man covered in a cloak came in followed by a smaller figure who I assumed was Bethany. The man pulled back his hood and revealed very familiar features.
My eyes widened, "Duke Valis?"
He was one of the Bermillian dukes who pledged allegiance to Dhernon and was on high watch by the king. Every time they had a meeting, the duke was present and always looked like he didn't want to be there.
"Oh, it's so good to finally introduce myself." He was a cheery and animated man, which is so unlike what I expected him to be like. "I first saw you and I knew you looked like my favorite little cousin, but I thought to myself, impossible, little Rainara died so long ago, but when I got this–"
He paused to pull a letter out of his pocket. "I knew it to be true."
He held his hand out to me, "I am your Uncle Marani Valis. Pleased to meet the stolen little princess."
I stared down at his hand mutely with some mild confusion, and then I remembered that the stolen princess was me. Then the real realization that I truly was a princess dawned on me once more, making me feel sick once more.