The Placeholder

Chapter 6

A vociferous pounding vibrates through the walls of my subconscious mind.

I shoot up, groggy and alarmed.

I don't recall falling asleep.

"Princess?" Someone calls out in the hallway.

Mabel? I think wildly.

I turn in the direction of the noise. Someone is knocking profusely on my door.

Of course it isn't Mabel. She comes and goes as she pleases, only knocking to be polite.

I glance at two unpacked suitcases. Harmlessly piled where I had left them last night.

Complete awareness comes back to me abruptly. I have to absorb it like a punch to the gut.

"Princess? Are you awake?" A panicked voice continues to call loudly. If this doesn't stop soon, I'm going to develop a headache.

"Yes, give me a minute please," I call back hurriedly.

The knocking stops. I wonder how long the person on the other side of the door had been trying to grab my attention for.

I stumble out of bed, groaning.

Scrutinizing myself in the mirror, I flinch.

I look zombie-like. Pale with noticeable dark smudges under my eyes. My hair sticks out at all ends due to the static it had endured during my nap. I run my fingers through my hair and tie it into a rushed ponytail.

There's nothing I can do about my face except rub the sleep from my eyelashes.

"Your Highness," the nervous voice presses, "Dinner is going to be ready soon."

I grit my teeth momentarily. All I want is to be left alone for the night.

It's not the worker's fault, I have to remind myself. She's just trying to do her job.

I huff heavily.

I swing my bedroom door wide and make the conscious effort not to glare.

"I thought Cristobel was the one coming to get me."

The girl at my door looks absolutely terrified.

"She-she was," the girl stammers. "But she is busy with other tasks. I was asked to take her place."

As long as none of those tasks involve me, I don't care what my personal assistant is up to.

"Well then, show me the way."

The timid girl leads me down the corridors of sameness. I'm confident this palace will never impress me or feel cozy. Why does everything need to be limited to one or two colours?

Even the way the Corset family dresses is coordinated to match one another. The men had worn all black, as if they were attending a funeral. Queen Isadonna and her sister had worn long gowns. Tanora's had been a few shades darker than her sister's, but was also light blue.

I mentally kick myself for not bothering to change my clothes. I am going to stick out like a sore thumb. Putting on something the same as the other women might have helped me blend in more.

Who are you kidding? I taunt myself vehemently. As if you're not going to be the center of attention no matter how you appear.

I stubbornly defend my reasoning.

It would have been worth a try…

I am forced to abandon my internal banter when my replacement escort halts a mere few feet away from a large threshold; illuminated by a crystal chandelier overhead.

She refuses to make eye contact with me.

"This is where I'll be leaving you," She says, pointing to the grand opening.

"The dining room is right in there. Goodbye now."

The girl hurries back the way we came. I allow her an easy escape.

It's a shame I can't have one as well.

When I enter, the table is already set. Unsurprisingly, I am the last to arrive. Food has not been served yet, but glasses are full.

There is only one seat available between Tanora and Nathaniel. An intentional seating arrangement, I'm sure.

The Queen is the first one to acknowledge my presence.

"Welcome," She greets cheerfully. As I go to take a seat however, I notice the scrutiny I am receiving as her eyes flicker to me discreetly.

The table is decorated with many candles, unlit, and a white table cloth. I don't understand the choice. They place their food atop this cloth and white is so easily stained!

I take my seat, ignoring my fiance, though I know it is impolite.

Isadonna is kind enough to excuse my behaviour and reaches for a conversation starter.

"Would you like some wine, Rhoswen? It's what the rest of us are drinking."

I recognize the tactic being used on me. My mother always told me that alcohol and food could loosen a crowd, or a tongue, in minutes.

"No, thank you," I decline. "I don't drink."

"Well of course you don't," Tanora snorts to my left. "You only turned eighteen a few days ago, didn't you?"

"That is correct."

"You're an adult now," the Queen points out. She tips her own glass back, as If to prove I'm missing out. The crimson liquid trails past her pink lips as she takes a long sip. "You are allowed to do as you please."

Am I?

Tanora leans to stage-whisper in my ear.

"I recommend you take the offer, dear. You're going to need a drink to ever deal with this family."

I smile sweetly. "Perhaps another time."

I know how tipsy people act, and I'm not going to make a fool of myself at the dinner table.

I can almost feel my mother's presence hovering close behind, beaming in satisfaction.

"Is there anything else one of the waiters can get you?" Nathaniel chimes in. "We have plenty of other beverages to choose from."

For some reason I can only think of the bedroom he went out of his way to have made for me. Why did he do that?

"Just water, please," I answer absently. I turn to stare at my soon-to-be husband. I only have three days to get to know this man as much as possible before being legally bound to him for life. How can I go on with this?

He looks back at me and smiles. He is trying to be nice, but that isn't enough to feel safe. How will I know how much is an act and how much is genuine? What if Nathaniel is a brute like his grandfather had been? What if he is violent and bloodthirsty?

A waiter comes to pour iced water into the empty glass in front of me. As this is being done, I hear a heavy sigh.

"Well, I guess we all know now that you're the life of a party."

I glare sharply at the pesky, younger Prince. "Is there a problem?"

"Not at all," he ribs, amused.

"As a matter of fact, I believe you will fit snugly in with my family, especially Aunt Tanora."

This earns him a scowl from everyone except Harold—who is evidently trying to choke back laughter—and the King; both who have yet to contribute to the conversation.

I lean back in my seat, drumming my fingers carefully against the table top as I deliberate. I understand a passive jab when I hear one, and was taught not to let the slightest comment slide.

"You'll have to forgive me," I begin acidly. "I have this awful habit where I like to keep myself hydrated."

Nathaniel coughs.

I am not prepared for the grin that stretches from ear or ear on Stefan's face. Or the slight nod of approval from Tanora. Even King Ryker appraises me for the first time as he broods in my peripheral vision. His cat-like eyes gleam with distant interest.

I realize that I have just been tested. Pushed to see if I would push back.

And I had passed.

"Would you look at that, Nate," Stefan says gleefully to his older brother.

"Your fiance isn't a meek wallflower. That's a start."

The older Prince rolls his eyes.

"You should have placed your bet when I offered." Stefan continues on casually. "So far, you would have won."

I stiffen.

"What bet?" I demand.

Nathaniel looks uncomfortable.

"My brother thought it would be fun to gamble on your personality." He explains unenthusiastically.

Stefan smirks broadly.

"I figured you would be plain," he admits without shame. "I wanted to bet that you would eventually bore my brother to death. He refused to participate, though."

I can't explain the heat that rushes to my head as I hear this bit of information. I don't understand why it bothers or surprises me.

I am an intruder from a land that Bardulm had grown to hate twenty-two years ago. And the loathing towards them had been mutual from my home as well.

The enemy and also the key. I had been warned of the danger this could bring; and also the immense curiosity. Citizens will want to know what makes me so special—to be able to save them from the brutal onslaught of war.

There is nothing special about me. There never will be, and soon the entire population of Bardulm will come to realize this. Until then, those who do not know me well will try to probe me, examine me, analyze and criticize my every action and every spoken word.

It is hard enough for a Princess to prove their worth and ability to rise to the challenges of a Queen. To also be the "saviour" of lives and peace will bring a larger wave of speculation crashing over my head.

Of course, the family housing their ultimate enemy's daughter will have curious stirrings of their own. A bet, however, is objectifying me for—in this case Stefan's—enjoyment, which is simply too far.

My glare darkens.

"Doesn't that seem a little childish to you?" I squint at the younger Prince, wondering how old he really is. The way he c***s his head to the side, unabashed by the flush in his mother's face or my own blatant displeasure, tells me that he can't be older than I. That, or he simply hasn't grown up. He is not as old as Nathaniel, so he can't be any older than nineteen. I suppose, that could be a common age of immaturity—when you're not conditioned to grow up faster.

"I'm not here for anyone's entertainment."

"You most certainly are not!" The Queen agrees hastily. "Please, pay my son's distasteful games no mind. He doesn't mean to be harsh. He simply treats his life as constant playtime. Since the day he was born I could never get him to take anything seriously."

I take another look at the goofy delight plastered on his face, and I believe that.

"He's not entirely to blame, Isadonna," Tanora comes to her nephew's aid.

"You dumped all of the responsibility and expectations on Nathaniel and left nothing for Stefan."

I watch as she chugs the rest of the contents in her glass. She sways.

"No lessons to learn, no mistakes to be made. I told you he should have been put to work years ago. My husband would have made him a hard working boy, but you refused."

Harold clears his throat as his name is spoken.

"It's true I had been willing to train him, as I still am willing." He gives me an uneasy side-long glance.

"But tonight isn't about Stefan and that topic can be discussed at a later time. Tonight is for Verduschkir's Princess."

He raises his glass and says pointedly, "I think now would be the perfect time for a toast. Would you like to start, Ryker?"

I wait in apprehension as everyone lifts their cups hesitantly, eyes glued to the King.

I hold up my own glass of water.

King Ryker looks at me for a brief moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he clears his throat and takes Harold's hint.

"Let us toast to Rhoswen, our newest member to the family."

Blood-glitter glasses lift higher as Bardulm's leader speaks.

"For the peace of our countries and for our conflicts resolved, I welcome you."

My heart races as Ryker stares at me, then at his son beside me.

"Nathaniel has been raised to be strong and honorable. I believe you will see that for yourself soon. Together, we will begin anew."

His golden ring twinkles under the crystal lights. His words, though warm, do not match the steel in his gaze.

I can only hope his son is not as hard and brittle as he is.

"Cheers," he finishes his speech.

As if rehearsed, men and women circle the table, placing steaming plates before those of us seated. The tension sinks into the shadows—for the time being.

Cups are clinked together and quickly refilled. I tap my glass lightly to Tanora's before spinning to face Nathaniel.

His eyes are kind.

"I know you are nervous," he tells me gently. "I am too."

I can't think of a reasonable reply. All I can do is squirm in my seat. Feeling shy, I turn away from him.

Dinner is a blur as many questions are asked to me. They want to know about my hobbies, my skills, and my family. I answer vaguely and revert the attention to someone else whenever the opportunity presents itself.

When our meal finally comes to a close, I am bloated from eating too much and tired from the excessive socializing.

I begin to rise from my seat when slender fingers clasp my own.

Before I can protest, Nathaniel's aunt is pulling me back down to whisper in my ear.

"You were decent today, but a word of advice-"

The older woman's breath reeks of alcohol. I reel to avoid breathing in the fumes.

Her eyes narrow as she refocuses on my face.

"You have to be bold to survive inside these walls," She warns gravely.

I stiffen.

Tanora notices, despite her mild intoxication, and nods.

"Ryker and my husband are being passive because you are new, but their act will thaw. Once it does, they will show you no mercy."

I had suspected as much when I first met the King. His silence is unnerving.

"What about Nathaniel?" I say in a hushed rasp.

My aunt in-law snickers.

"Nathaniel? He's the least of your worries. Completely harmless."

I sigh in relief. I'm not sure why I trust this woman's alcohol-influenced assessment. Still, I do, and I appreciate the gesture of giving me advice in the first place.

"Thank you for telling me this, Tanora," I say, sincerely.

Tanora waves dismissively. "Just remember what I tell you. I will never glaze the truth with sweet honey, pretty lies. You will see for yourself how ruthless the King can be."

She releases my hand, mumbling drunkenly to herself as she leaves me behind.

"You can handle the ice," She bemoans solemnly.

"We shall see if you can withstand the fire."