THE USELESS PRINCESS: HER MOTHER'S BLOOD, HER ENEMIES' DOOM

The crystal chandelier overhead cast a brilliant, blinding light across the grand banquet hall, but all I could focus on was the sound of my own clumsy footsteps. Crash. The silver goblet slipped from my fingers, sending a wave of dark red wine splashing across the pristine white linen tablecloth. Several nobles at the nearby tables gasped, pulling their expensive silk robes away from the spill. "Oh, by the heavens! I am so terribly sorry," I cried out, my voice high, frantic, and laced with immediate embarrassment. I scrambled forward, grabbing a napkin and dropping to my hands and knees to awkwardly wipe at the stain, intentionally knocking over a salt shaker in the process. Behind the cover of their lace fans, the court ladies began to snicker. "Typical Princess Nina," a duke whispered loudly to his wife. "A beautiful face, but entirely useless. A complete embarrassment to the King’s bloodline." "Let her be," his wife sneered, her voice dripping with pity. "With a mind that simple, it’s a miracle she remembers to breathe." I kept my head bowed, letting my long hair fall forward to hide my face. On the outside, I looked like a trembling, humiliated girl. On the inside, my eyes were ice cold. Let them talk. Let them think I was a fool. The more they believed I was a clumsy, brainless princess, the less they guarded their tongues around me. While they laughed at my spilled wine, I was busy scanning the room. I noted the Duke of Westshire whispering to a foreign commander. I noted three royal guards standing at the eastern exit who had quietly swapped their standard-issue blades for uncrested daggers. I wasn't useless. I was a spy in my own home, mapping out a war before it even began. Standing up, I curtsied clumsily to the room, murmuring another apology, and slipped out of the side exit of the banquet hall. The loud music and laughter faded as the heavy oak doors shut behind me, leaving me in the dimly lit, quiet stone corridor of the north wing. I leaned against the cool wall, exhaling a long, sharp breath. The fake smile dropped from my face instantly. Suddenly, a heavy, blood-stained hand clamped over my mouth. Before I could scream, I was violently dragged backward into the dark shadows of a window alcove. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my hand instinctively reached for the small, concealed hairpin dagger hidden in my bodice. "Princess Nina... please, do not scream," a ragged, breathless voice whispered in my ear. The hand slowly removed itself from my mouth. I spun around, my dagger ready, only to freeze. It was Thomas, one of my mother’s most trusted border scouts. His armor was dented, his clothes were torn, and a deep, oozing gash ran down his forearm. He looked terrified. "Thomas?" I whispered, my eyes widening. "What happened to you? Why are you back from the frontier?" "There is no time," he gasped, clutching my shoulders. His grip was weak, his fingers trembling violently. "Everyone thinks you are a fool, Princess, but I know you are the only one who truly watches. You must listen to me. The King’s new guest... Lady Vashara..." The mention of her name made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Vashara had arrived just days ago, a stunning woman who had quickly charmed my father. "What about her?" I demanded, my voice dropping into its true, serious tone. "She is not a guest. She is a serpent," Thomas choked out, a drop of dark blood spilling from his lips. "The food... the tea... they are poisoning the Queen. Your mother, Queen Amara... she is already being poisoned. You have to save her..." My blood ran completely cold. "What do you mean? Who is helping her? Thomas!" Before he could answer, Thomas’s eyes suddenly widened in sheer horror. A choked, gurgling sound escaped his throat. He stiffened, his hands gripping my sleeves so tightly the fabric tore. Then, his gaze went entirely blank. He collapsed forward, his heavy body crashing onto the stone floor at my feet. I gasped, dropping to my knees beside him, my hands shaking as I pressed two fingers against his neck. No pulse. He was dead. My eyes darted to his throat. Lodged deep in the side of his neck was a tiny, black-tipped iron dart. A shadow fell over the corridor. Slowly, I looked up. Standing twenty paces away, right at the edge of the torchlight, was a tall, elegant silhouette. The clicking of silk heels echoed against the stone floor as she stepped into the light. It was Lady Vashara. She held a delicate, painted silk fan against her lips, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement as she looked down at the dead guard, and then up at me. She didn't look shocked. She smiled, a terrifying, beautiful curve of her lips. "Oh dear, Princess Nina," Vashara murmured, her voice smooth like honey and dripping with malice. "It seems you’ve stumbled into a very dangerous game. I wonder... what will a useless little girl like you do now?"