An intruder and a proposal
1413 Words
The nights in the South were colder and more unrelenting than the dry heat of the days. I sat cross-legged on the cushion by the window, watching the moonlight cast long shadows over the vast forest beyond the palace. The trees, thick and towering, marked the edge of the wild—veiling its secrets from even the most curious of eyes. The wind whistled, carrying whispers that made the hairs on my neck rise.
My thoughts drifted back to the conversation I had with Orion. His words clung to my mind like the scent of iron on blood—sharp, inescapable, and unnerving. What would Delphine think of my predicament? She would shake her head in that dry, amused way of hers and say, “I warned you, Nalorie. You wanted to dance with wolves, now don’t cry when one bares his teeth.”
Now, I stood between two choices—each more damning than the other. One felt like a slow, bleeding death. The other, a trap disguised as a throne.
Orion trapped me.
In anger, I kicked the velvet throw pillow resting near my feet. It soared across the chamber and hit the door with a dull thud. My skin prickled with frustration and helplessness. Pulling off my heavy tunic, I stood bare and unburdened, if only physically. I needed a bath. Something to calm my nerves and wash off the filth of confusion.
The washroom was a sanctuary of scents and soft light. Neat stacks of cotton washcloths, natural soaps, and oils were arranged in delicate bowls. The scented bathwater the maid had prepared had already gone cold. As I dipped a toe in, a shiver danced up my spine. The water clung to my skin, chilling me, grounding me. Purple and blue petals floated lazily across the surface—rare flowers in most kingdoms, yet common here in the South.
I scooped a handful of petals and brought them to my nose. Their fragrance calmed me more than I expected. I kept inhaling, the scent weaving through my senses until my eyes began to drift shut…
“Your Highness! Your Highness! Your Highness!”
I jolted awake, dazed, cold, and submerged. The water was nearly ice. My breath came in sharp gulps as I registered the blurred outline of a young maid entering the washroom, panic etched on her face.
She rushed toward me with a thick cloth in her arms, wrapping it around my shivering body.
“Are you always this frightened or just scared I’ll behead you?” I asked, teeth chattering.
The maid paused, then muttered something beneath her breath—half confession, half defiance.
“I heard that.”
“F-Forgive me, Your Highness. It’s just that y-you’re… intimidating.”
Her hands trembled as she guided me back into my chamber. She disappeared into a small room I hadn’t noticed before—a garderobe, perhaps—and returned with a neatly folded pale-blue chemise. She carried it like it was precious silk.
She then fetched oils, a soft brush, a scarf, and a small sachet of scented herbs.
“I need to remove the cotton wrap, Your Highness. May I?”
“Proceed.”
She was gentle as she dried my body and massaged in the oils. I slipped into the chemise, thinking she was done, but then—
“Your hair, Your Highness. I need to braid it or wrap it.”
I touched my wild, unmanageable mane. Northern women were known for their thick, full hair. Even my own maids feared touching it, afraid to make mistakes.
“I understand your concern,” she said quickly. “But… my mother was a Northerner. A well-known hairdresser in Azume. She taught me how to care for every hair texture—including yours.”
I froze. “Your mother was a Northerner? Her name wouldn’t happen to be Mishwar, would it?”
The girl’s face lit up. “Yes! She had sunset-colored eyes shaped like a cat. She was quite popular in the capital of Azu—” Her smile dimmed. “She died during the rebellion. I was here in the South with my aunt, who works in the palace kitchens.”
Guilt struck like a dagger to the ribs. I had threatened this girl earlier. And worse—my failure to protect my kingdom had cost her a mother.
“What’s your name?” My voice was small, my throat tight.
“Rosemary, Your Highness.”
She knelt beside me. “Don’t feel guilty. I hated you, I won’t lie. I blamed you for abandoning us. But then I learned the truth—about how your parents died fighting, how they helped evacuate children and the elderly to safety. My mother refused to come. She stayed to fight. I—I watched the boats leave while she disappeared into the flames.”
I shut my eyes, fighting back the tears clawing behind them.
“You said they sent our people here?” I asked softly.
“Yes. While you held the northern gate, your parents led us through the forest. They bypassed the matrix and crossed the old trade border. We were received kindly. Despite everything, the South took us in.”
“That… doesn’t sound right,” I whispered. “There’s always a catch. They never do anything for free. My parents must have traded something—maybe something more valuable than we realize.”
“Perhaps. But they saved us. And you’re alive. We never stopped hoping.”
“Thank you, Rose,” I said, staring at the floor. “You can go.”
She gave a deep curtsy and left.
As the door shut behind her, a single thought rang clear in my mind:
Whatever King Orion is hiding from me, I will find out.
I blew out the candles and slid into bed, my dagger tucked securely at my side.
I awoke to the soft creak of floorboards.
Someone was in the room.
My breath stilled. My heart slowed. I feigned sleep, tightening my grip around the hilt of my dagger.
The steps grew closer. Slow. Heavy.
The mattress dipped.
I struck.
The dagger plunged into the intruder’s eye. He screamed, a gurgling howl of agony, toppling off the bed.
“Who sent you?” I hissed.
“You filthy w***e,” he spat, cradling his face.
I stepped down, gritting my teeth. “Then I’ll be a filthy w***e with a bloody dagger.”
I yanked the blade from his eye with a sickening squelch. His eye fell with it, a ruined mess of fluid and muscle.
My chemise was soaked in blood and bile, clinging to my chest and outlining every curve. The man lay in a heap, twitching.
I opened the door.
The guards flinched at the sight of me.
“You let an assassin into my room?” I barked. “Were you dead, or just stupid?”
They stammered, eyes darting away from my exposed body.
“The walls are enchanted, Your Highness,” one finally said. “Sound doesn’t pass through. Even screams.”
I glared. “Then take me to the king.”
“It’s late—”
“I said take me to the king.”
The walk through the silent halls was tense, each step echoing with fury.
Orion was lounging in his study, a crystal glass in hand. The fire cast his silver eyes in a dangerous light. He looked me over slowly, deliberately, his gaze lingering on the blood-soaked fabric clinging to my skin.
The hall to the king’s wing was silent, lit only by the flicker of dying torches. When we reached the door, I pushed it open without waiting.
Orion stood by the window, a robe draped loosely around him. He turned.
His gaze dropped to my stained chemise.
“Who touched you?” he asked.
“Don’t play innocent,” I snapped. “I killed a man in my bed tonight. In your palace.”
His eyes darkened. “You’re sure he’s dead?”
“Yes. And you owe me answers.”
He stepped forward. “I don’t know who sent him, but I will find out. You have my word.”
I stared at him, chest heaving. “Your word is not enough.”
“Then let me offer you more.”
I frowned. “What more could you possibly offer me?”
He looked me straight in the eye.
“Marry me.”
- Writer
