THE DISCARDED PRINCESS: MARRIED TO THE RUTHLESS PRINCE

CHAPTER 5: RETURN TO MATTABAN

We returned to Mattaban. coming into the city, I held alot of grievance memories flooded back.

I had left at eight, barefoot, called a murderer, carrying only my mother's jewelry box. I returned at eighteen, to be used as a marriage alliance and everyone expected me to die there but now, I return to claim a blood debt on a black horse, wearing a black battle cloak that belonged to the most ruthless prince of Valerius, with his dagger at my waist and his hand around mine.

Mattaban gates opened. People stared.

"Is that... is that Princess Davina, the First Wife's Daughter?"

" The Discarded and Bride without a groom?"

King my father stood at the top steps. Older, thinner. Lady Varra stood beside him, still beautiful, still sharp-tongued, wearing my mother's crown. Elisa stood behind her, eyes down.

My father saw me and his mouth opened. No words.

Varra saw me and smiled, that fake mother smile.

"Davina, my daughter! You returned! We want to apologise for Elisa behaviour last time, let's talk as family" She walked down the steps, arms open to hug me.

Nolan's arm moved slightly in front of me. Not touching me, just blocking her.

"Do not touch my wife," he said coldly. His voice carried across the entire courtyard.

Varra's smile froze. "Your wife?"

This was the first time Nolan has publicly declared Princess Davina as his wife and it got everyone shocked. Even though Davina knew Nolan was her husband and they've shared some intimate moments she still went with shock on the words he said.

"Princess Davina of Mattaban, now Princess of Valerius, my wife," Nolan said. "She has come to visit her mother's grave. Where is it?"

My father flinched. "Liana... Liana's grave is... in the royal garden."

"No ceremony?" I asked, my voice calm but shaking. "My mother, First Wife, buried with no ceremony?"

Silence.

I stepped forward and took out the wooden doll from inside the cloak. I held it up high.

Varra's face changed when she saw it. Color left her.

"Do you know this, Lady Varra?" I asked loudly so everyone could hear.

"It is... a child's toy," she said.

"No," the old nanny's voice came from behind me. We had brought her with us. Nolan's men helped her walk forward. "It is Liana and Varra. Sisters forever. I carved it. You were ten. You had no shoes. Liana gave you hers."

The courtyard gasped.

Varra stared at her own mother. " What are you doing here? Who brought this kitchen woman here?"

"Your mother," Nolan said. "The mother you sent away because she embarrassed you."

My father looked at Varra, then at the doll, then at the old woman. "What is she saying?"

I took out the second letter. The letter for Varra.

I read it aloud, in front of the whole court, in front of the guards, in front of Elisa.

"Varra, my sister. I know you put posion leaf in my tea..."

When I finished, Varra was shaking.

"Lies!" she shouted. "Liana wrote that because she was jealous of me! The King chose me!"

"My mother recommended you!" I shouted back, tears finally coming but not from weakness. From ten years of pain. "She begged Father to take you as her maid so you would never separate! She taught you to read! She gave you her dresses! She called you sister! And you poisoned her small small, and that night you stabbed her while Elisa, six years old, held the dagger to frame my mother!"

Elisa stepped forward, crying. "It is true. I was six. Mother gave me dagger and said hold it, say Liana wanted to kill me. I did not know. I was six!"

Varra looked at Elisa, betrayed. "You, you are my daughter!"

"You told me I was born a lady!" Elisa screamed. "You told me Liana was a servant! But you are the servant's daughter! You used me!"

The King sat down on the steps. He looked old. "Varra... you were daughter of kitchen maid? Liana told me you were daughter of a late distant lord..."

Nolan stepped beside me. He did not hold my hand in public hard love still but he stood so close our shoulders touched.

"King of Mattaban," Nolan said, voice hard and loud. "Your First Wife, Liana, was murdered by your Second Wife. Your true daughter, Davina, was exiled at eight for a crime she did not commit. You buried a First Wife with no ceremony. Valerius does not accept this."

My father looked at me. "Davina... I... I believed Varra because Liana herself loved Varra... I thought if gentle Liana trusted her, she must be good..."

I walked up the steps, stood in front of my father, still wearing Nolan's cloak.

"You believed the snake because the kindest person you knew fed the snake," I said. "My mother forgave Varra even while she was poisoning her. She wrote 'please protect Davina.' Did you protect me, Father?"

He cried. King crying.

Varra fell to her knees, not from remorse, but because guards held her.

"Take her to her own mother's hut," I said. "Let her live where she was born. Not in my mother's crown. Remove her crown."

Nolan's men removed the crown from Varra's head and placed it in my hands. It was my mother's.

That night, in Mattaban palace, in my old small room that was once mine, I sat with the crown in my lap, crying silently.

Knock.

I knew who.

"Enter."

Nolan entered, still in black, but without armor. He closed the door.

"You did well today," he said, standing far.

"I did not feel well. I felt empty."

He walked closer, slowly, and sat on the floor in front of me, not on the bed, not beside me in front, so we were eye level. Hard love still keeps distance.

He took the crown from my lap and put it aside.

"Look at me," he said.

I looked, face wet with tears, blushing from crying.

He reached out and wiped my tears with his thumb, same as before, but this time his other hand stayed on my knee, steadying me.

"You are not empty," he whispered. "You are finally full of truth."

My breath caught. His face was close. Lamp low. My sleeping dress thin again, his cloak still around me.

"Davina," he said, voice lower.

"Yes?"

"Can I"

He did not finish. I nodded small. My face red, hot.

He leaned and kissed me. Not hard. Not ruthless. Soft, slow, first kiss. His lips slightly cold from night air, mine warm from crying. His hand on my cheek, my hand gripping his shirt.

Slow love finally kissed.

When we broke apart, both breathing fast, his forehead rested against mine.

"That was not a transaction," I whispered, blushing furiously.

"No," he said, ears red, smiling small. "That was interest that became debt."

He stood up, but before he left, he pulled his battle cloak tighter around me.

"Sleep. My wife. Tomorrow we give your mother a real burial."

And he left, leaving the taste of snow and steel on my lips.