Celeste's life is far from the enchanting fairy tale one might expect from a princess. Her father, a ruthless and self-absorbed king, leaves a trail of death and destruction in his wake. To seal alliances and maintain his power, he arranges for Cele...
I don't know when the moment came when Novak, Elia and the two guards left the room. I don't remember when I lay down on my side and stared at the cupboard. I certainly don't remember when Walmoet fell asleep next to me. I have been in this position before; naked in bed with a sleeping man beside me while staring ahead. Always that time was filled with darkness and pain. This time it is shame and emptiness. I would almost let Walmoet live, purely to avoid having to face Novak.
Every second I lie here, I try to motivate myself to get up, take the dagger and stab it into Walmoet's heart. Something inside me stops me. Shame, fear or the feeling that I should run again. For the last few months, I was enjoying life on the road, going wherever you want. It was a godsend when I left the castle, no rhythm, no regime. We are now almost two years on and something in me is starting to miss it. Meanwhile, I am starting to miss a home, a fixed place. This is not my permanent place and I know it. There is no future in this village for me and there never will be.
Walmoet has to die and tonight. For Elien, for Nora and for Rave. I let my eyes slide over the sleeping man next to me, lying on his back. His pink lips are slightly apart, his hands are beside his sides and his chest moves slowly up and down. I hated this man, perhaps even more than Christiaan. By now, despite not wanting to, I was beginning to feel sympathy. He could have raped me like Christiaan, but he didn't. He could have killed me for Nalu's death, but he didn't. Killing him is harder for me now than it was months ago, but it has to be done.
Reluctantly, I carefully place my hands on the bed and push myself upright. My eyes stare at the sleeping man next to me, praying he doesn't wake up. My movements are small, slow and as quiet as possible. If he wakes up, my chance is gone. I let my feet slide to the ground and keep my eyes fixed tightly on Walmoets. As soon as I push myself upright, my heart skips a beat. Walmoet mutters something and turns on his side. I stand rooted to the ground as if my muscles have seized up. I stare in shock at the, thankfully, sleeping man.
Slowly, I let out my held breath. My hands are clenched into fists because I no longer dare to lift a finger. My right foot glides across the floor, as silently as possible. My eyes seem glued to the sleeping king in the bed. I have never moved as slowly as I am now towards the closet. Step by step, I gather courage. My breath is held by my lungs, afraid to even cause the sound of breathing.
I don't know how long it takes me to reach the cabinet, but I manage. Carefully, I grab the white drawer, close my eyes for a second and start pulling it open very slowly. I pray for the drawer to stay quiet, but my prayers are not heard. A high-pitched squeaking sound echoes through the room as the drawer leaves the cupboard. I immediately stop moving the drawer and look at the bed. He is still asleep, I don't know how, but he sleeps on.
Looking at the drawer again, I see that the dagger is indeed in the place Novak had told me. The drawer is just not open far enough to put my hand between it and free the dagger from its hiding place. I pause for a moment and gather courage to move the drawer. It is now or never. I slide the drawer open, grab the dagger and turn around in one motion. I didn't think Walmoet was a deep sleeper, but it turns out he is.
I have to go back to the bed, stand beside him and stab the dagger into his heart. My hand is tight around the hilt as I let myself slide across the floor again. Sweat has formed on my back, making the nightgown stick to my skin. Step by step, I move closer until I am standing next to him. I've done this before, more than 30 times. But each time, it is as if I plunge the knife into my own heart too.
Gathering courage, I let the dagger glide through the air and aim it at Walmoet's side. A deep sigh through my nostrils and the dagger sinks to his skin in one swift movement. This is it, this was the target, at least I thought so. A few inches before the dagger disappears into Walmoet's skin, it stops abruptly. Walmoet's hand has wrapped tightly around my wrist, his green eyes stare at me and a grin is on his lips.
'Miss Princess.' Before I can say anything or lift a finger I am thrown over Walmoet onto the bed. The dagger is pulled from my hand, my hands pinned above my head and the dagger placed against my throat. Shocked, I stare at the two green eyes.
'You are predictable. Did you really think I was stupid enough to blindly accept everything you said?' he laughs contemptuously. The sharp edge of the dagger just barely cuts into my skin, a finger I should move and my throat lies open. I say nothing, make no reply.
'Apparently it does. Shall I tell you a secret,' he says grinning as he slowly leans more my way, his breath bouncing against my neck.
'That night the army invaded, you remember that, don't you? I was the one who informed them about your visit. If Nalu hadn't been stupid enough to protect you, you would be rotting away in the dungeons somewhere now.' In total confusion, I look at the man. He is the reason Nalu is dead, he is the one who had half the village wiped out. That can't be true. If they knew Walmoet was the one who sent the message, they would never have attacked his village or left at all.
'You're lying, they would never have left,' I bring out with difficulty. He laughs again.
'You really rate me low princess. Of course that message was anonymous. It was supposed to be my reward for keeping you in my territory. Unfortunately, Nalu threw a spanner in the works, but shall I tell you another secret?' He bends even closer to me until his lips touch my ear, the knife harder against my skin.
'As soon as morning comes, I'll be a millionaire and you'll be back with Daddy.' I walked into his plan like a rat into a trap. I should have known Walmoet was smarter than this, more cunning. He is not a good man, never has been. Nalu's death is his fault. That Novak had to watch is his fault. Everything is his fault. The anger forming inside me is indescribable. The thought that my father is on his way here is enough to fuel all the anger I have. I would rather die here than go with my father.
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
