THE PYRE | ONC2021

Ⅵ

WHEN THEY REACHED THE DOCKS, Ingrid couldn't help but feel conscious about the bruises on her neck. She put on almost every piece of armor she possessed. She draped the chainmail over her neck higher, wore a helmet so her chainmail would not look out of place. 

But even then, she felt like there were eyes everywhere, looking at her neck, staring at the purple, the reds, the yellows that had blossomed all over her throat.

Famous Lady Ingrid. Beaten up by a young lord who was still wet behind the ears. 

Ingrid felt... ashamed.

How had he managed to make immobile? Why hadn't she retaliated? Was she... 

Was she... weak?

Ingrid pushed these thoughts away, hoping that they would never see the light of day again, and instead laid her focus onto the docks, where a gigantic ship was being unloaded. She watched with strained eyes, sweat dripping from between her eyes and on the tip of her nose, as box after box was hoisted upon shoulders of workmen.

Were these crates the dowry for the Princess?

Next to her, Frederick looked painfully cheerful. Elated, even. It was as though he felt far better after taking out his anger on her last night. He was dressed in a nice, purple ensemble. If Ingrid hadn't known who he was, she would've thought he was Prince Alexander himself.

He did look like he had stepped out of the pages of a storybook.

"I do wonder..." He mused, and Ingrid stood at rapt attention, her neck twinging. "How come the Princess was late too? Shouldn't she have arrived at the harbor yesterday?"

He glanced towards Ingrid's hands. She immediately folded them behind her back.

Ingrid replied promptly, "I sent them a pigeon about our delay, Lord Frederick. It would be unsafe for them to stay at the harbor without escorts."

Frederick grinned like he was watching a stupid child make funny mistakes.

Then he leaned over, whispering in her ear, "Have you forgotten that you have to kill the Princess? Why even bother to make her safe?"

Ingrid forgot to breathe. Suddenly the armor that she felt most comfortable in was heavy, too heavy. A liability to be in. She wanted to run.

"Oh look!" Frederick said gleefully, pointing to the ship, where Ingrid could spot the silhouette of a woman. "There's the princess!"

***

Ingrid would be honest. When she had first heard that the Princess was going to be someone from the southern kingdoms, she had imagined someone relaxing in an elaborate harem, surrounded by servants fanning her. Dressed in elaborate, thickly embroidered rich fabrics, draped in muslin and silks, her voice slippery and soft.

But Princess Arzu was quite opposite from that. When she descended from the ship, Ingrid saw that she was wearing a simple gown, not drapes of expensive foreign fabrics. It was done in the styles of the kingdom, albeit slightly outdated, and her face was painted to perfection.

And when she smiled, Ingrid felt something jump in her stomach.

Princess Arzu was beautiful. 

Her long dark hair was pulled up into curls that Ingrid was sure weren't natural, and her dress, a soft lemon yellow contrasted with her tan skin. And when she spoke, Ingrid was caught off guard.

"My name is Arzu Al-Noor, and I am the daughter of the kingdom of Wayna," She said, curtseying demurely. Her voice had no hint of an accent, except when she said her name.