The False Princess

The False Princess: Chapter 1

Demetria hesitated for a moment at the edge of the road, shifting the load of firewood held on her back by a pair of ropes. Dusk was settling over the treetops that surrounded the remote village, and there was the beginnings of a cool wind blowing through the treetops.

But Demetria was focused on the village before her. She was tired, the load of firewood was heavy, but she had no wish to run into Hathan, the reeve's son. He had taken to badgering her almost as relentlessly as his father had been harassing hers. The reeve wanted her father's farm, but Hathan seemed to take joy in harassing Demetria just for the fun of it.

The village was beginning to calm, the busy activity of the day wrapping up as tasks were finished, animals brought back to their pens, and fires banked for the next day. A few men were still at work on the new windmill at the edge of the village, but the rest of the village was slipping into the quiet hum of the supper hour. The quiet of the evening was made deeper by the absence of a dozen young men, taken in two conscriptions for the queen's army.

Demetria could not spot Hathan, but the reeve's son was rarely in one place long, and she guessed that if she stayed along the edge of the village, she should be able to make it home without crossing his path.

As she tightened her grip on the ropes and hefted the wood higher on her back, preparing to finish her trek home, the sound of hooves on the road caught her attention. She stepped back from the roadside just as a company of horsemen galloped by, tossing mud and sod into the air and over her face.

She spat out the gritty dirt that had stuck to her mouth and cursed the riders as she wiped away the muck. But when she went to spit after them in disgust, she stopped, suddenly glad they were in too much of a hurry to bother with a poor peasant.

They wore the red and gold of the queen's house, and a long thin banner fluttered above the party as they galloped up the road, heading for the baron's castle only a few miles distant. Doubtless, they meant another round of conscription, but that did not worry Demetria too much. She was unlikely to be taken, her sister was too young, and her father was lame. It pained him to walk far, and he could carry only small loads, but at least it spared him the interest of the queen's conscriptors.

She glanced down at the pocket she had filled with blueberries, and was relieved to see they were mostly unharmed. Eleina, her sister, loved them, and Demetria hoped to bring a smile to her face tonight.

With one more glare after the riders, Demetria crossed the road, keeping her head down as several of the town's people came out to see what the commotion had been. The workers hauling stones for the new mill returned to work after a brief pause, and Demetria circled around them, still trying to keep out of view of the rest of the village.

"Off in a hurry?"

She pulled up short at the sound of Hathan's voice. He was standing against the old mill, smiling as he picked his nails with a short knife. Beside him, the butcher's son, Pallit, was grinning at her.

"I'm just trying to get home," she answered. "Can we not go through this today?"

"Go through what?" Hathan asked, pushing off the wall. "I just want to make sure you heard the news."

Demetria stepped forward, but Hathan sidestepped, staying in front of her. "You want to hear the news, don't you? Or are you fine with your father having to sell his farm by the end of the year?"

With a sigh, Demetria let the heavy bundle of limbs fall to the ground. "Fine," she snapped. "What's the news you're so excited about?"

"The reeve has made your father an offer," Pallit said, a smile on his face as he watched her. "You're to get married."