Deadly Desires

Chapter 3

The day of the third equinox.  

The light of dawn casts down splinters of Solomon-gold through the windows of the hallways, making the interior-crests sparkle like elf light. I glide down the stone pathways of the castle with faceless handmaidens pursuing me. I round a corner and notice a night servant leaving the corridor to where Cassia’s chambers are, as well.  

“You there.”  

She whips around and makes a beeline for me. She stops and bows to me. “Your Grace.”  

“Is Lady Cassia still in her chambers?”  

She nods timidly. “Yes, Your Grace. She still slumbers.”  

I nod a dismissal, and she curtseys then turns to take off in another direction.  

I should let my friend rest. I laugh inwardly at the thought. I resume my journey to her chambers. When I’m at the door, I tell my handmaidens to wait outside for me before I enter. When I do, I tiptoe inside the room, around a ledge. Then it reveals Cassia’s sleeping form nestled under white Pima cotton blankets. I drift closer to her until I notice a letter on the bedside table. Clearly read already as the seal is broken. I glance at her. The windows from my other flank fill the room with budding sunlight, beaming down on her bronzed skin, her hair neatly wrapped in a white material.  

Curiously, I pick up the letter. And as if it triggered an invisible alarm. She begins to wake; she stirs; eyes fluttering, agitated by the sun. She mumbles something incoherently to me but my eyes are hypnotised by the words on the parchment, my mouth rounded in palpable shock. 

“Aurelia...what is that?” Voice low in blind suspicion. But when she realises. “I hope that is not my—”  

She flings the covers off and lunges for me, but I swiftly sidestep, scampering away with a snicker.  

“My, my, what e*****a is this?” I clear my throat, adding a flair of drama to recite a passage. “I burn for your sultry, sumptuous lips, the feel of them against my neck.”  

“Aurelia. Stop, that is private!”  

I continue, skipping a few lines, I say, “The euphonious tones of your midnight ecstasy, my hardness sliding into you—”  

She rips the letter from my grasp, her face aflame with embarrassed anger. “Do not think that the title of princess will keep me from throttling you. You cannot do such things.”  

I cross my arms challengingly. “Cannot is a word not found in a royal’s vocabulary. Especially mine.”  

“Yes, but ‘throttling’ is, you do understand that one. Yes?”  

She flicks me a glare, folding the letter, carefully but with angered haste, then moving to place it back where it was.  

“You realise threatening your future monarch is a treasonable offense?”  

She snorts and turns to face me with a wry smile. “And you do realise that reading a private letter from my future husband, meant for my eyes only, is a throttle-worthy punishment? Do not use your title as weapon to bludgeon people over the head with.”  

I brush away a sting of guilt.   

She observes me for a long, assessing moment. “As much as I enjoy deflating the head of the princess back to normal size. You are usually this unbearable when you yourself cannot bear something. What plagues you?”  

I free a pent-up breath. “Today is the day. I could not sleep, constantly thinking about...their...his arrival.”  

She nods slowly. “The crown prince of the Empire. Eres.”  

We know absolutely nothing about the royal family of the Empire. We only know of their bloodthirsty nature and brutal ambition. I admit. Gavaria only thrives because of its past conquests. It is only by wars do our territories grow, only through the plunder of battle that we gain riches. A gruesome necessity. But with the Empire, unlike us. They show no mercy; they raid, they ravage and spill blood as if to satiate a need. An urge.  

I start pacing back and forth. “What if he is cruel?” My speed increases. “What if he only accepted this alliance, or it too was pushed on him solely they need him to wed me, then kill me, to claim Gavaria for his realm.”  

“Impossible. It would mean war, so long as you do not give him the crown matrimonial that would ensure his reign even after your death. Gavaria would avenge you if need be.”  

I stop to fling a sharp glare at her. “You are not helping.”  

She cracks into a small smile. “Rest easy. Trust that no harm will come to you. Your mind is stewing on all these negative scenarios, all the bad that could happen. But the good is just as possible. None of your predecessors ever thought to have a member from the Empire’s royal family marry into ours. This might be the dawn of a new beginning. Ponder on that, the good that this can do.”  

***  

After undergoing a full beauty treatment, then bathing in myrrh and pleasant-smelling oils. I return to my bedchambers. On advent, the tall double doors open and I strut inside with a trail of handmaidens behind me, busying themselves with the preparations for the ball. The aesthetic of my expansive bedchambers is pristine with Carrara marble floors and white varnished walls. A huge canopy bed elevated on a platform that free-flows to the balcony that takes up the entire wall opposite from the bed, exhibiting me a view of the kingdom from within the comforts of the golden sheets.  

I seat myself at the elaborate vanity table bedecked with cosmetics and accessories that I plan to wear tonight. All my jewellery is kept in a vault beside my wardrobe. I’m still yet to choose a gown. Waiting, my hand finds the back of my neck, tracing the pattern of my tattoo—not just any tattoo. But my royal mark. The mark of the last Valtoria. I look back at my reflection in the large oval mirror; my honeyed amber skin shimmers from the fine oils, curls of cinnamon-brown hair garland my head, caressing my contoured features. I didn’t want to, but I glanced directly at my eyes. A colour I inherited from my mother. When I was younger, I looked like my father but as I age, maturing into somewhat of a woman...I look more and more like her. It is possibly why father wants less and less of me as time passes.  

“Today will shine the brightest.”  

Watching in the mirror, Hilda approaches my rear. Somehow, she looks the same, as old-looking as she was when I was still a child. She’s dressed in her iconic attire; a pure black, long-sleeved garb with a leather corsage. Wearing her trademark expression; a timeless scowl.  

“I do not seek to impress him.”  

“By a mere look of you. He will already be.” She stops behind me and fluffs out my hair with her fingers, examining it, deciding what kind of styling should be done to it. “This is important. The peace of this realm will not be undermined by your disregard. This is beyond you and your apathy. A ruler must always put her people first. No matter who you are, highborn or low, there is always a price to pay. And this is yours. Find comfort that it is for Gavaria.”  

Silently, Hilda does my hair. Even though I have a flock of beauty experts, she always insisted to do my hair for me, to the point where I expected only her aid. She and I had an icy relationship from the beginning, she was so stringent, and hard me but as I grew; I understood why, so then, the ice melted.  

Mixing crushed gemstones with oils, wax and a vibrant paste. Hilda painted the result on my lips. Then using the black ink from oak galls to outline my eyes with a winged flourish, augmenting them. After she decorated my hair with buds of red roses. When she finished, I admire her work with a satisfied smile, my lips; a magma-red that pairs well the hair decorations, my tresses swept up in a chignon, not a single wisp of hair out of place.  

“Thank you. I look as lovely as always.”  

Hilda snaps her fingers at someone. Shortly a handmaiden appears in my gaze with a velvet box. Hilda opens it and takes out the layered necklace bedazzled with glimmering red rubies. She sets it on my bare chest, almost matching the colour of my satin robe but the red of the rubies is richer; bloodier. After she locks the clasp, I stand up and stride to my wardrobe, and the doors are open for me as I breeze inside. Two Storeys of racks fill the high walls, rows upon rows of beautifully designed dresses, all colour-coded from the summer hues to winter blues.  

If I’m going to do this. I might as well make a lasting impression.  

“Hilda.” My eyes glide up the red section, varying in rosy shades. “Tell someone to bring in a ladder.”  

***  

The party is in full swing, heeding to the dull roar. I watch from above at an exclusive gallery that overlooks the ballroom, the pearlescent floor awash with Gavarian nobility, the elite of the realm all pouring in to witness the historic event of Empire dignitaries being welcomed in our court. For the first time....Ever. Strings of luminous gold jewels hang from above with the starlight that spills through the stained-glass dome bathing the ballroom in soft, heavenly light.  

The flanks lined with tables and tables of choice food; the divine smell of fire-roasted meats waft up to such heights. The centre is reserved for dancing. Groups of nobles cavort elegantly in unison, dancing on cue to the harmonious music played by the ensemble of musicians.  

“Aurelia,” Hilda says sombrely. “It is time.”  

I make my out. She follows, along with two castle guards. Once we descend and I crest the brink of the steep staircase. A fanfare of trumpets sound and the announcer declares my arrival. No matter how many times I attend events of such grand scales. My anxiety still flares, threatening to overwhelm.  

“PRESENTING PRINCESS AURELIA DE VALTORIA, THE LAST OF LINE VALTORIA.”  

“Remember,” Hilda whispers, “breathe. You are in control, of both your mind and your body.”  

Her words expel the bout. Dangerous thoughts are banished to the deep recesses of my mind. I inhale a breath. I gingerly lift the front part of the metallic crimson dress as I descend the steps, ripples of blood stream behind me, flowing with the heavy cape of glided feathers that match the gilt crown of leaves that ornament my head. Once I reach the bottom, the sea of people part for me as I make my way to the front, so silent, you can the gold-plated feathers scrape gently across the gleaming floor.  

My father stands before the place of honour, an opulent table ready to host our foreign guests who are still yet to arrive. I step up the platform and stand beside him, he and I are matched in red. He stands poised in regal elegance, robed in his full royal regalia in a silk brocade garment with golden embroidery, his head adorned by the crown.  

The glittering masses continue as they were. The silence swells into light conversations. The crowd garbed in a myriad of blues, oranges, pinks, purples, and bold yellows. Father spares me a glance and smiles warmly, nodding with content.  

“My daughter. A queen.”  

“And yet I do not feel that way,” I blurt. Stunned, usually I have a better guard over my mouth.  

Father lifts a hand to cup my jaw. I bristle. His thumb strokes my cheek. “It is perplexing. Privileged to have the world at your feet and yet still feel...empty.”  

My eyes shoot up to his, and its life looking at my reflection, a mirrored anguish.  

“That is what I felt when your mother died, everything meant nothing without her.” He allows his buried and abysmal grief to unearth itself. “But I made her a promise when she laid on her deathbed. I promised her that Gavaria will continue to flourish, even in her absence. It is no longer something I can shoulder. You must now uphold that promise. Your mother only envisioned greatness for you.”  

A tear leaks from my eye. My father’s finger is quick to wipe it away.   

“It is time for you to arise.”  

“PRESENTING PRINCE ERES OF THE EMPIRE.”  

I turn from father to view a man standing at the peak with an entourage of dignitaries. From this distance I cannot see much, only the colours of the Empire. Black and gold. Together, with Eres in lead, they all descend the staircase and they make their way to us. My heartbeat hammers harder and louder with every step he takes near us. Manicured nails digging into my palms in mute dismay. Eres. His presence commands respect with the mere long, powerful stride of his sure-footed walk. And soon, he is close enough to behold.   

A dark-haired wonder. His silky raven tresses fall to his collarbone. His concave cheekbones rests on tawny skin as smooth as moonstone with a craggy jaw that is square and firm. His attired in imperial fabrics, his black garments embossed with intricate golden beadwork, paired with a black one-shoulder cape, hemmed with gold threads.  

“King Caldor, I stand chastened before your splendour,” he says, his voice smoky, leathered with rigour, accent resounding with excellence. Father nods back at him royally. His gaze turns to me, scanning me liberally and slowly. “Princess Aurelia, the tales of your beauty do not do you justice.”  

I bow my head back to him.  

“Prince Eres.” Father gestures expansively to him, then to his side. “If you will.”  

He flashes a stellar smile that lit up his mesmerizing, wanderlust-green eyes. He moves up to stand at father’s right side and his entourage pursues, standing at the base, their eyes cold and unreadable.  

“My cherished people, sons and daughters of this great realm,” father begins, gripping everyone’s attention. The acoustics of the ballroom carries his voice, granting him rein over far distances “Today symbolises a new era. We all know of the history between Gavaria and the Empire; the tenuous peace that exists between our realms. But today that changes. Today an everlasting amity will be forged through an unbreakable bond, for not the love of each other but shared love for their people. Whom will become our people.”  

My father looks to Eres pointedly, and he steps down to walk to me, extending his hand.  

“An alliance between Gavaria and the Empire; a union between our beloved princess and the crown prince.”  

I take his hand, descending to stand at his side. I swallow, gazing out at the crowd. The judgmental stares and critical voices wash over me. Evidently, the nobles do not sound too pleased, their displeasure only mounts, from scornful murmurs to angered mutters.  

Father parts his mouth to speak, but Eres’s voice is heard.  

“I know that this must all come to you as a shock. A generational foe who now suddenly seeks amity. You might despise my realm and distrust my intent. I assure you; I understand, I too would be wary. But we only seek glory for our Empire, and we do not see why we should share it with an influential realm such as Gavaria, respected by many dominions.”  

I glance at father. He nods with approval, reassuring me with a dim smile.  

“I vow to you, on my honour, that I mean only to end the blood-feud that should have perished with our forefathers.” He holds up our clasped hands, his thumb on my knuckles. “Let this be the end of one age and the start of a new one. With our union, and combined strength. We will be unstoppable. Together.”  

The dazzling assemblage claps politely...but not so loudly that I cannot overhear the dubious whispers. The musicians begin to strum a melody, easing the lingering tensions. Eres rotates to look up at my father.  

“Will you permit me to dance with my betrothed?”  

Father wavers, his gaze absent as if something dawns on him. Quickly, he covers it up with a smile and nods. Eres then holds out the back of his hand and I place my hand on it as he leads me to the centre of the dancefloor.  

“Princess, it is truly a pleasure to be acquainted.”  

“Is it?” I respond flatly, not sharing in his...pleasure.  

The crowd recedes to the sidelines, surrounding us.  

He chuckles, smirking. “Have I offended?”  

“You just disparaged the King in his own court.” He and I face each other. He bows to me and I curtsey stiffly. We begin to circle each other. “You spoke over him as if he were an inferior, but of course you did recognise your slight since your people are nescient in the ways of propriety.”  

Eres lets out a hearty laugh, right from the stomach. We meet again at centre to begin the dance; he reels me in by the waist, far too close than the Volta dance allows. He takes my hand, holding our hands aloft. My other hand rested on his Titan-like shoulder. I try my best to refute his eyes, refusing to be bewitched under the t****l of his gaze.  

He faces me while I face to one side; together we so a turn with forward steps, and then stepping with the same foot at the same time. The turn begins with a small step, springing onto the outside foot and lifting the inside foot forward. On the second beat there is a longer step, stepping smoothly onto the inside foot and staying close to the ground.  

“Are you always this cynical? Judging a person or his people before you had the chance to get to know either of them.”  

I scoff. “And what more is there?”  

By my surprise he raises me up, twirling me in the air, holding me up long enough for my gaze to slip, falling into his and he captures it. Gradually, he lowers me, setting me back down to the ground.  

“More than you think.”  

We proceed to dance in circles across the dancefloor, transitioning into varying movements with our flattened hands together, then shifting to unite our opposite palms. He glides with me, following his steps effortlessly. And I loathe it. We are so...well-paced. 

“Muse me,” I say, “who are you then?”  

“Contrary to general belief and a reputation that I do delight in. I am not the warmongering bastard or monster that you may think I am.”  

I frown mockingly at the accusation. “Of course not. You merely, what was is it? Seek the glory of the Empire.” Sarcasm coats every word. “Yes, I see no similarity there.”  

“You are going to be a handful.”  

He twirls me under his arm, drawing to him as I finish in his brawny arms.  

“And you. I see right through you. For what you are.”  

A low chuckle tickles the back of my neck. “Your future husband?”  

“A threat.”  

“Depends where you stand,” he retorts. He releases me, resuming the distance between us. “And you are fated to stand, safely, at my side. As for you and your realm, sanction me the chance to at least try to prove myself before you brand me with your ignorant judgments.”  

The song culminates, his eyes a-twinkle, gracing me with an abnormally kind smile.  

He bows to me and I curtsey. The surrounding crowd applause.  

“We shall see, prince Eres.”  

Before he can get another word out, I strut away briskly, and before I know it, I am swallowed by a swarm of nobles. They are everywhere I turn, blocking me in. Some pass disingenuous congratulations, others exchange their disdainful looks at me.  

“Your Grace.” Lord Jameson approaches me with his nose to the ceiling. “Here I thought, your reign would usher in new policy but this is not the sort of radicalism I was hoping for, in fact this is a change that might be the realm’s undoing.”  

“I concur,” another noble says, “How can you ever think to believe that you can reason with the Empire, let alone an intermarriage between our realms. Those barbarians only live for one thing and that is not amity.”  

I hear grumbles of agreement.  

They accuse me outright as if it were my doing! But they would never directly the verdict of the King. And inadvertently, I am held responsible of their rancour. 

“It makes Gavaria look weak to think that we need their adherence in order to steer clear of their warpath.”  

“This is not about our vanity,” I say, my words stumbling. “This...uh, this is about preventing future conflicts. Why should we have enemies, when we can have allies instead?”  

Lord Ruffman snorts a dry laugh. “Words suited for another world, but we live in this one. You disarm hoping our adversaries will do the same, but what is the result? Your adversaries will shoot you.”  

“Enough,” a noble lady says. “What did you expect, she may be a future queen, but she is still a woman. A moveable pawn in a game meant for male players. An ornamental queen with the function of an expensive vase. A figurehead with scant power.”  

My heart leaps into my throat, panic surging as the room spins sickly. I excuse myself abruptly as I break through the crowd, weaving through as I make my way to the side exit that leads to the gardens in the east keep. A handful of guards and handmaidens try to follow, but I wheel on them all.  

“No,” I seethe. “Leave me be. I need to be alone.”  

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” one guard says, “but Vicrium Zenon said you are to be monitored at all times whilst he convenes with the Crown Shield.”  

“And what of my instruction. Will you dare to defy my order?” I boom, drawing prying eyes.  

He seals his lips.  

“That is what I thought.”  

I flee out of the ballroom and into the night. My chest inflates with the cool, crisp air. I close my eyes for a moment, my skin absorbing the feeble, silver-sieved light of the moon. I open my eyes, standing atop of the wide, short staircase that leads to a maze garden glistening under the starlight glow.  

“Am I interrupting?”  

A gasp escapes me. I swivel to the right to see a familiar frame standing behind the railing of wrought swirls. With his hands shoved in baggy trousers, he saunters to me lazily, stepping into a pool of moonlight, exposing his face. Shock steals yet another breath.  

“Xerxes.”  

“Ah,” he says with wry surprise. “You remember my name.”  

Not only did he grow, maturing in the chrysalis of time. He blossomed. His crescent eyebrows are thick and shaped. He carries an imperious nose well; his angular cheekbones carve down to a narrow but flinty and sharp jaw. And those eyes. Orbs of galaxy blue, portals to the cosmos that shine brightly like burning sapphires.  

He eases about with feline grace.   

“You cannot count how many nights I’d pray to hear you say it again.”  

I am utterly dumbstruck. Groping for words, the anxiety I once felt recedes like a tide at shore.  

I shake my head dazedly. “Xerxes...I... it has been...so long.”  

He quirks his brows, smiling to the ground, his teeth iridescent. “I’m glad you noticed,” he says with a distinct note of bitterness.  

I scan around. I do see moving black dots of patrolling guards on duty. Even alone, when in the castle, one is never alone. Especially me, it is scarce moments like this that I cherish. And I do not wish to waste it.  

“Take a stroll with me.”  

His eyes rapidly dart to mine, both curious and eager. “Pardon, Your Grace?”  

I glide gown down the steps and look at him from over my shoulder, hiding a smile.  

“....Well?”  

He bows at me theatrically. “As my princess commands, I shall do.”