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Erienne, princess of the powerful Samaria, is faced with one of the most dreaded situations of all time: an arranged marriage. Bound by a blood oath, she marries her unwilling groom. As circumstances shift out of her favor, Erienn...
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AZRIEL SAW RED.
This couldn't be happening. She hadn't even attended her father's burial. It was all to achieve the dream that everyone had thought was impossible but him. And now, she was crushed. Returning home would surely mean destitution, and almost worse, humiliation. She looked the king dead in his green eyes, tears surely rolling down her face. Her sister had a husband that would take care of her mother. Ma would surely manage better if she had one less mouth to feed. She needed someone to help her through her grief, but Azriel's brother-in-law was kind. He would allow Azriel's mother to properly taken care of by her eldest daughter. These thoughts sealed Azriel's next actions.
"You're a depraved, worthless king. Here you sit, surrounded by decadence. Surrounded by women and pleasure. Your nobles in and out of the palace turn their noses on us commoners and milk their luxuries. None of them think of the peasants toiling so hard in the streets, working so bitterly, they might as well be slaves. This, Azriel knocked over a bowl of apples, could feed my entire village ten times over. And yet it is you who has it and it is still you who will not be able to finish it. I wish you luck with those pompous narcissistic girls housed in that room in the harem. One of them will make you a perfect wife. They argued about sleeping on sofas or divans, while I will return to slab of old rubber when I return home." Azriel paused to catch her breath while the king peered at her with molten eyes.
"You-" he started but Azriel help up her hand.
"I'm not finished." She stood up and closed the gap between her and the king until she was standing at his feet. "You think because we bathe with bowls, eat meager meals, and sleep under thatch roofs that we're lesser? You think because I'm not fluent in the languages of the Ten Kingdoms, that because I'm not drilled in arithmetic, that I don't know the first thing about literature, and because I have no knowledge of etiquette and rules I am nothing? My father was a bastard of Igrek's father. He was neglected by the House of Wharle. You people reject the children you bear out of your lust. Your nobles slay their blood and countrymen for power. You collect women and become unfaithful to your wives for sex. You castrate little boys to become your servants and enter wars of your own making knowing nothing of the bloodshed your people will have to endure at the battlefield. We commoners are not the vermin. You are." Azriel coughed phlegm from her throat and spit squarely on the king's forehead. She watched as her saliva dribbled down his face with satisfaction, and waited for him to clap his hands and send guards to take her to her death.
Instead, the king retracted a silken handkerchief from the pocket of his tunic and wiped the fluid from his face. "Sit," he commanded.
"Why? You're going to have me killed anyway."
"No one is dying today, Azriel. Least of all, you. Sit." She only sat down after a few seconds.
"The only people who ever talked to me like that were my parents."
"It's a pity more people aren't willing to risk their lives to tell the truth. But then, what do they know of it? You surround yourself with people who probably all think the same." The king cocked his head.
"You know what you did would earn you a hanging. Why did you do it?"
"You needed to hear it. People like you, so awash with glory and power, actually believe that they are good for everybody. That they are loved by all. They are not, you are not. And if I come home empty-handed, it's better I don't come home at all."
"Your parents really told you that? And you think I'm ruthless?" the king queried.
"My parents are nothing like you," Azriel snapped. "They said nothing of the sort. I am only saying what's true. My father is dead, that brings a new strain upon my mother and I. My sister is already a wedded woman and her husband is a good man, and he's good to our family. He will allow my sister to support my mother in whatever way she needs during her grieving process. And once my mother takes up her basket-weaving after her mourning has subsided, she'll have enough money to more decently support herself. If I came home, I would be a burden. So I figured that I shouldn't be." Azriel couldn't really read the way that the king was looking at her. He was only silent. Then he clapped his hands. Azriel couldn't help the cold fear that washed over her. Master Reeke arrived in a matter of seconds.
"Your Majesty?" Reeke asked. The king turned to Azriel.
"Your hand," he commanded. Azriel stretched her right hand toward him. He slid off two rings, one large ruby with a band of gold and another emerald framed with small diamonds on a silver band. He placed the two rings on her middle and index finger. He then turned to Master Reeke. "See to it that she has a room separate from the other girls."
"Of course, Your Majesty." Azriel couldn't help but blink at him in awe.
"You're excused Azriel," the king said. She stood up and curtsied more confidently than before.
