The Imprisoned Princess

Chapter 6

General Ahriman led me out into the dance floor and a hush descended on the crowd. I knew the quiet meant everyone had stopped what they were doing and were now watching us. Part of me wanted to run away, but instead I forced myself to smile up at the General as we reached our places on the dance floor.

I took a deep breath as I curtsied and the General bowed, praying that for one dance, I could be graceful. The music started and the General took one of my hands and placed his other arm around my waist. Our height difference made this difficult. The General had to lean down a little to be able to comfortably hold me without lifting me off the ground. I was relieved, at least, that the dance was a waltz. The waltz was the dance I knew best since it was basically the same steps in repetition.

"Happy Birthday, Princess." The General said, making polite conversation. I blushed, already uncomfortable with the attention he was showing me.

"Thank you, General." I said, struggling to keep my count on the steps because he was distracting me.

"You look quite beautiful tonight." The General said, alarming me. This might sound like a compliment, but the General was being very forward and it caught me off guard, making me stumble. Thankfully, the General felt me stiffen and quickly swept off my feet, hiding my stumble in a spin. I gasped, surprised by the General's smooth dance moves.

I knew at this point, I must be blushing crimson, I only hoped the makeup was hiding most of my discoloration.

"Thank you." I said, unsure of what else to say. I peeked up to find the General studying me. For a moment, he captured me in his icy blue stare. Our eyes locked. The look in his eyes confused me. I was used to being looked at in very certain ways, or when someone was below me in rank, like the General, barely looked at. Most people assumed I was like my parents. Someone to be feared. No one really knew me enough to know the real me, so I was treated as an extension of my parents and their cruelty. They had been known to beat their servants for the smallest infractions, and had nobles put to death for saying something my Mother or Father found offensive. Consequently, most wolves feared offending me as well. The General did not seem afraid, however. He had complimented me and now was looking at me with desire. The realization sent a jolt through me. Did the General no longer fear my Father's anger?

The dance ended and I curtsied, eager to get away as quickly as possible. To my dismay, the General took my arm, leading me out into the garden.

"Let's take a turn about the garden Princess. I would like to speak to you more," he said. I wished I could say no. I already felt so uncomfortable. The General was a man who had, undoubtedly, a lot of experience with women. While I was 18, he was at least 40. I was young and knew nothing, and he was a battle-hardened soldier who had experienced the world. Walking to the garden with him made me feel like a lamb being led out to slaughter.

I tried to calm my pounding heart. Surely the General wouldn't do anything indecent. Whatever his intentions were in singling me out, seduction was unlikely.

"So, how do you feel about everything?" The General asked. I looked at him questioningly.

"Everything? You mean my birthday?" I asked, clearly confused. We stopped walking. The General had taken my hand and was looking at me.

"I mean your betrothal." He stated, his bluntness confusing me again. No one said what they meant here. Everyone spoke in circles and pretty little phrases usually. It was sometimes hard to even understand what they were trying to say because everything had so many flourishes. The General wasn't wasting time though. Maybe it was the soldier in him that made him more direct.

"I know what's expected of me." I said, unsure of what he meant by his question. The General chuckled.

"Your parents have assured me that you will make a good wife and bear me many heirs. But how do you feel about our betrothal, Neoma?" I gaped at him, unsure of what to say. OUR betrothal? Our!? I was marrying the General. I looked up and met his icy blue eyes again and saw him staring back at me. This time it wasn't with desire. He was studying me. Watching how I reacted, but I wasn't entirely sure why. Was I prey to him? Or did he simply want to get to know me. I wasn't sure what the General really knew about me. In truth, he had known me my entire life, but the General spent a lot of time away at war and never had cause to interact with me before. Most of what he knew about me probably came from my Father, but I shuddered to think of how Father's input could shape the opinion of my future husband. I took a deep breath and steadied myself as I replied.

"I am honored, General. I hope I can be a good wife to you." I said as diplomatically as I could.

"We will be expected to have many children, son's, preferably." He said, as if this was something I could control. My Mother was proof that wanting a son and supplying one were two very different things. Still, I knew it was expected of me and would be considered my fault, even if it wasn't.

"Of course, General, I have spent my whole life learning my duties. I know them well." I said it colder than I had meant to. In truth, I felt uncomfortable. I just found out it was the General I would be marrying and he was already pressing me for children. I knew this was going to be a theme until I was pregnant. Every month I was married and not pregnant would be seen as a failure. If I did fall pregnant and had a girl, the lectures and reminders of my failures would only continue. I frowned, realizing that my marriage was just adding another person to tell me what to do as well as another person who would be disappointed in me.