Princess of Silence

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Philip spent much of dinner sulking, angry about the turn of events at the Tower of Glendor and agitated that none of his subordinates seemed to have any clue how to stop an attacking army. Apparently, all they could do was invade other kingdoms, and even then it had taken far too long to actually accomplish what Philip had set out to do. Many of the tactics they had used to gain access to Zurconia had been underhanded and shifty. They had also used up a lot of their resources in the last couple of years waging war against a fairly defenseless people.

Arteria, on the other hand, was a land full of warriors. It was fairly common knowledge amongst the gentry that King Caleb took battle preparation extremely seriously. Arteria was rarely tested in battle, and there was a reason for that; the leaders of surrounding armies knew it was practically suicidal to attack forces consisting of soldiers who volunteered to dedicate their lives in defense of their homeland. In Arteria, it was a high honor to be a soldier in the King’s Army. Families felt a great deal of pride in seeing their sons selected to fight alongside the king. Unlike many neighboring kingdoms, which used mercenaries or makeshift infantry, Arteria paid its own citizens generously to defend the land, and when called upon to do so by the king, they would invade whatever nations may stand against them.

Returning his thoughts to the dinner table, Philip glanced at Princess Katherine who sat next to him, picking at her food like a damn bird. Every time Philip so much as looked at her, she averted her eyes as if acknowledging his existence was painful. At first, he had attempted polite conversation, “How are you? How was your day? Did you do anything interesting?” Blah, blah, blah. Of course, she had said nothing, as was always the case, so he had eventually given up.

Joan, her lady-in-waiting, had answered in her stead. The princess was well. She’d had a wonderful day. Katherine had spent most of the day reading and working on an embroidery piece, etc. He didn’t really care anyway. The more time he spent in the presence of his wife-to-be, the more he began to loathe her. At the same time, he wanted to drag her, kicking and screaming, into his bedchamber and teach her to say his name. He took another drink of his wine, wondering if he’d had too much. His head was swimming--from the losses that day, the drink, and his frustration at the woman next to him. When the servant behind him stepped forward to refill his goblet, Philip didn’t wave him away.

Katherine did her best not to be rude to Philip. She didn’t want him to become suspicious, but every time his eyes moved in her direction, she found herself looking away. Knowing his secret, that he had Matthew holed up in the tower and was allowing members of the military to beat him at their own whimsy, made it difficult to sit at the same table as him.

She wasn’t used to the food as it was prepared at Blackthorn. Everything was dry and over-cooked, practically burned. She tried to take a few bites of the chicken, but swallowing it down was a challenge, so she nibbled at her vegetables instead, wishing she could find a way to leave the table.

Several dignitaries and military leaders were present, but Philip spent much of the meal ranting to his most trusted military advisor, Charles, about the situation in the area known as Glendor. Though Philip began the conversation attempting to be secretive, it did not last. It seemed to have escaped him that just because Katherine did not speak, that didn’t mean she couldn’t comprehend the discussion. As far as Joan was concerned, Philip only saw her as a servant, so it didn’t seem to matter to him that she was present. Katherine imagined that, in Philip’s opinion, Joan was probably too ignorant to understand what the nobility was speaking about anyway.

Philip’s loose lips spilled a few pieces of critical information about Caleb’s position. Katherine imagined if the king’s Uncle Edward had been present, he would have put a stop to Philip’s chosen topic of conversation immediately, but Edward was not in attendance. Katherine had overheard someone say he had hurt his wrist earlier in the day. She had a sneaking suspicion the injury may have been related to Matthew’s beating, but she couldn’t know for sure. Nevertheless, Edward’s absence allowed Philip to spew comments about the impending doom about to befall Clovington with Caleb’s army advancing daily. Katherine pretended not to pay attention, but it was critical information, and she was glad to learn precisely what was happening.

Her betrothed’s inability to keep his military intelligence to himself may have also had something to do with the copious amounts of wine he was ingesting with his meal. Katherine had noticed before that he was fond of the drink, but tonight’s display was even more profound than usual. She couldn’t blame him for being upset about the situation, but in her experience, wine never led to good decisions.

As the other diners began to finish, Philip brought his conversation with Charles to an end, and his gaze became more amorous. The princess felt her heartbeat increase each time his heavy eyes landed on her, particularly when it was evident he was staring at the peaks of her bosom at her low-cut neckline. Though she could not say she was completely inexperienced, Katherine had never lain with a man. The thought of Philip changing that made beads of sweat dampen her upper lip.

Upon meeting Philip for the first time, Katherine had begun to settle on the idea that he would, eventually, be her husband in every sense of the word. Because of the stories she had heard about the king, the thought of him touching her intimately was unsettling. She had to admit she was physically attracted to Philip. Every time he touched her, Katherine felt her body respond in a way she’d never experienced with any man before. But she was also terrified of him for more reasons than she could count. The juxtaposition between wanting him to touch her but also not wanting to be in the same room with her left the princess confused.

There had been a few times recently when Philip had placed his hand on hers, and she felt herself physically tremble. Whether it was loathing or excitement, she couldn’t say for sure, but he always seemed extremely agitated at her response, and rather than removing his hand and making her feel more comfortable, as most gentleman would do, he would simply grasp her fingers more firmly, sometimes squeezing to the point of pain. If this was any indicator of what he would be like in the bedroom, Katherine felt she was right to be fearful.

The wine was certainly getting to him. He reached over and stroked the side of her face with his finger, his knuckle, tough and callused, running along her cheekbone, and Katherine flinched. Undeterred, he reached further, continuing to stroke her cheek. She took a deep breath and resolved herself to stay still. Soon enough, he would be her husband, so she had better try her best not to anger him.

Philip leaned in closer, his breathe smelling of alcohol. “I think it’s time to proceed with the nuptials, love.” He curled a finger around a loose ringlet of hair and gently tugged, angling her head toward him. “Perhaps we should hold the ceremony later this week, say, Sunday?”

The king paused, as if she would verbally answer. Of course, she said nothing, but Katherine felt her eyes grow larger. He leaned even closer so his hot breath ignited her cheek. “I’m looking forward to teaching you how to scream my name,” he whispered so sharply, Katherine felt little flicks of saliva peppering her ear.

She sucked in her breath, looking at the other guests for assistance, but those who were left seemed to think the display was amusing. Philip rubbed his nose up and down her cheek, his hand slipping down her arm and around her waist. The princess braced herself as she felt sordid emotions well up inside of her. She understood the response of fear and repulse, but she was not quite sure why she also felt a bit of excitement. She glanced at Joan, a pleading expression on her face, hoping that her lady would be able to read her thoughts, as she usually could, and say the words that Katherine would say herself if only she were capable.

“Sunday! That’s just four days away!” Joan exclaimed, leaning across Katherine, closer to the king.

Philip pulled himself away from Katherine’s cheek to look at Joan, his expression revealing he was annoyed that she had interrupted his advances. Katherine’s eyes darted around the room, landing on Charles. He sat back in his chair, his chalice half-full, a smirk on his face, which indicated he was taking pleasure in watching Philip toy with the princess.

Undeterred, Joan continued. “We have much to do!” She pushed her chair back, pulling Katherine by the arm. “Let us go begin the preparations. Come, Your Highness.” The force of Joan pulling her caused Katherine’s chair to scoot back, and she almost tumbled out, still reeling from Philip’s behavior. Her knees felt weak, and she wasn’t sure she could make it out of the room without stumbling.

Philip pulled himself up from the table, his chair screeching across the stone floor, and the ladies froze. “Now?” he asked. “You need to go start your preparations now, at this late hour?”

Katherine wanted to retreat but was fearful of unleashing Philip’s wrath. She had heard about his temper but had yet to witness it. The princess waited for Joan to say something—anything—to calm him down. “Yes, yes, Your Majesty," the lady-in-waiting began. “So much goes into making sure the day is a great success.” Then she added, “May we have your permission to leave the table, Your Majesty?”

Philip slumped down in his chair. Katherine imagined the alcohol and the frustration from the losses that day were mounting. What if he was seriously considering whisking her back to his chambers to take her as his wife that very instant? While it was generally an unacceptable practice amongst royals, she had no way of knowing if he would abide by tradition. Perhaps he would decide that since he should have wed her years ago, and could have been bedding her nightly if he had done so, they may as well complete the transaction and finish with the technicalities later.

Katherine watched his forehead furrow, saw his eyebrows come together either in deep thought or anger--or both. He stroked his jaw, his nostrils flaring, so she took advantage of this pause and made one last attempt to save herself.

Katherine curtsied, low and deliberately, intending to display for him and everyone else in the room that she understood she was his property, that she appreciated his station and his power, and that she really wished to be dismissed.

Philip abruptly came to his feet, swaying slightly as the liquor caught up to him. “Fine!” he spat. “That’s b****y fine! Go ahead and run off to your chambers.” He swatted at her with his left hand, the one closest to the table and promptly knocked over his goblet of wine. A pool of bright burgundy spread across the white tablecloth.

Lifting her eyes from the floor to the overturned goblet, Katherine stared at the wine as it made its way across the linen, reminding her of blood—the pool at the top of the stairs, the one on a stark white dress. With her eyes locked on the red stain, she didn’t notice what the king was doing until Philip picked up the wayward container and hurled it across the room. It smashed into the mirror above the fireplace mantel, sending slivers of glass flying. Katherine’s hands went to her mouth as she stood in disbelief and terror.

Fortunately, Charles no longer seemed to think the situation was humorous. He pushed back his chair and moved to the king. “Your Highness,” he began, reaching out to Philip to steady or calm him, “perhaps it’s best if the ladies left for the evening.”

Philip pushed his counselor away. “Yes, yes. I said it’s fine. Go! Go!”

Not needing to be told again, Katherine backed toward the door, Joan’s hand on her arm. But the king wasn’t finished yet. He came shooting across the room, grabbing her by the shoulders. Pain bit into her arms as he pulled her upward, demanding she look him in the face. “Just remember,” he said, his lips grazing the flesh on her cheek, “I am the king—your king. And I will have you when and where I want to, however I want to. Make no mistake about that, love; you belong to me!”

Charles had his hands on the king again, pulling Philip back, “Your Majesty... Philip... please, Sir.”

As Charles pleaded with his leader to release her, Philip finally let go. Katherine continued to stare into his dark eyes, terror coursing through her veins, as Joan’s arms gently pulled her toward the doorway.

“He’s had too much to drink,” Charles said over Philip’s shoulder, not releasing him as the king rubbed his face with both his hands. Philip was still seething but he didn’t try to pull away. “He’s… he’s not himself right now.”

Katherine managed a nod at Charles as she continued to back out of the room. Prior to this interaction, she had thought Charles was a bit too much like Philip, cocky and unkind. But now, she saw him in a different light. He had no obligation to try to save her, and yet he had come to her aid. While she was thankful someone had stood up for her, Philip’s actions were unsettling to say the least. Joan kept hold of her arm as they quickly made their way back to their bedchamber.

She hadn’t made it too far down the hallway when her emotions caught up to her, and Katherine began to sob. Joan’s arms provided some solace, but she knew the king’s actions would be impossible to shake off. Thoughts of what her soon-to-be husband had in store for her had her physically shaking and confirmed Katherine’s suspicion that men were all the same and not to be trusted. More than ever, Katherine wanted to return back to her beloved Nadoria, to her brother James who would’ve never let any man treat her that way, to her friends, to the safety she’d felt when the idea of marrying Philip was as make-believe as the stories she read about in the library. Now that she was here, she’d have to find a way to prevent Philip from going through with the wedding, an impossible task, it seemed. But as long as Clovington was under attack, Katherine couldn’t give up hope that perhaps she could be rescued along with the captive king.