Traitor, Traitor [NaNoWriMo 2013]

Chapter One

I brushed my hair carefully, not really looking at my reflection in the long mirror. My thoughts were scattered, distracted by the upcoming events.

Usually, my servant Ella would be there to tend to my hair, but I had sent her away. I needed time for my thoughts. Securing my curly hair with a clip, I looked myself over in the mirror.

I was not as slim as the rest of the ladies of the court. I was, to their horror, built. Since I was a child I had been trained in the art of physical combat and once I had come to the palace, that fact had been picked up and scorned upon. That did not stop me from reaching the top, however.

I was dressed today in an elaborate gown of the deepest pink. Thankfully, this dress did not need a corset. If there had been one, I would have definitely fainted. I was already slightly giddy with nerves, and that coupled with the lack of air would not serve me well.

My skin was the colour of caramel, and seemed to go perfectly with the colour of the dress. My brown eyes looked wider when lined with black. Ella had insisted I dab a little pink to my cheeks and not a little red on my lips.

My eyes focused on the green pendant glinting on my chest. A heavy weight settled on my heart. Today, the king would meet the royal family of Roran. Today would also be the day I saw him, after so many months.

I held the pendant in my hand, the silver necklace glinting. The emerald was half as big as my thumb and set in a flat silver plate. The stone was cut into an oval and the gold flecks in them danced to the light of the sun. I remembered eyes that looked exactly the same and my heart fluttered again.

I hastily tucked the pendant under my dress. I needed to focus today. If I got carried away, the entire plan would fall apart.

Taking a deep breath and putting on the most stern face I possibly could, I turned around at the knock on my door.

"Come in," I said.

A woman in her early thirties with blonde hair tied in a bun stepped inside. She wore plain grey servants robes. Her brown eyes were a shade lighter than mine. "The king requests your presence," she said.

I smiled at her and nodded once. She walked slightly behind me as we made for the Great Hall. Ella was one of the few people in this palace that I could tolerate. She was genuinely kind and caring and never questioned why I came back occasionally with bruises.

She even helped me with things I would rather not tell the king.

She bid me good day as we reached the door and I returned her wishes. I took a deep breath. It was time.

The Great Room was large, almost as big as the arena. It rolled onward until it met two large double doors made of blackwood. Courtiers were seated on either side of the red velvet carpet that cut through the middle of the hall. On the other end of the carpet sat the king and the prince.

I bowed to them both and took my seat beside the king himself. 

The good thing about the fact that almost all the courtiers, the ladies most of all, hated me, was that I did not have to pretend to be friends with them. Each one was as dense as a brick and I thanked my gods for making them dislike me. Trying to be a friend would have been quite the task.

I sat straight with a smug smile on my face, meeting the eyes of every scowling courtier. I was in a better position than them and they hated me for it. They, who had worked so hard and for so many years to get to where they currently were.

It had been easy getting to this position. Once you figured out how the system worked, it was easy to make things go your way. I was a lot younger than them and knew that much. I suppose that shows how exceedingly thick they were.

"Ah, my dear Arya," the king's voice sought my attention. I reluctantly turned to him, keeping my profile intact. In the six months I had been here, I had learned how simple it was to take things through one ear and send them out the other. So it had been with the king. I had to ignore everything he said, otherwise I would become emotionally invested and that would ruin everything.

"My Lord," I said in way of reply.

"How late you are," he said, his chins wobbling. That man had more chins than I had fingers to count them on. "You have kept me waiting."

I smiled tightly. Lord Aaron was a heavy-set man. Many years ago, he had been thinner, muscular even, but he had let go over the years. Now, his belly fell over the belt he didn't need and his fingers were more pudgy than the food he ate.

His obesity did not, however, make him cheerful. He was ruthless and exploitative, corrupting the minds of all his courtiers and letting his kingdom fall into poverty.

It was a wonder I hadn't killed him yet.

"Forgive me, my Lord," I said. "I did not mean to cause any trouble."

He chuckled, a deep, horrible sound. "You are on time, Lady Arya, for here comes the messenger."

The doors had opened to admit a lean man, starved of his daily rations. He was panting, but managed to make it to the foot of the king's throne.

His voice was pitying low for a messenger as he said, "I announce the Royal Family of Roran."

I might have spent a moment feeling sorry for the man had it not been for the doors opening instantly.

A group of well organized people walked in with calculated steps. Up front was a man with a woman's arm woven through his.

Behind them, walking with a straight back and head held high was the man that made my heart flip. It took him less than a second to find me and his green eyes flashed dangerously. His hair, dark as a ravens had grown out, but it was as shabby as I remembered.

The entire court stood up, and I stood up with them, never taking my eyes off of his.

It had begun.