My neck strained back after a horse-drawn wagon ambled past from around the side, soldiers seated in the back with empty baskets, to take in the height of that wall.
I’d been told about it, this wall and castle, many times, but too distracted by my own whims, the innocence I’d once harbored with too much grit, I hadn’t listened. Guards were stationed at every corner in lookout towers that would grant them a view for miles in any direction, their bronze and silver armor gleaming in the sun.
“Halt,” a female voice cried when I stepped out from the shelter of the trees and headed toward the courtyard. “What is your business here?”
Here goes everything. “Opal,” I said, my name sounding strange. Foreign almost. “I am Princess Opal of Gracewood, here at the royal family’s request.”
A heavy silence ratcheted up my heartbeat, and then the silver metal gate across from me, not the larger one fit for horses and carriages but for single-file entry, opened.
Five guards, wearing armor and helmets, walked out and stopped before me, inspecting me from head to toe, then looked at one another. “That is her,” one of them said, words muffled behind the metal encasing his face. “I’ve seen her before.”
I surveyed the man, wondering if he even spoke true, before ultimately deciding it didn’t matter as long as I was taken where I needed to be.
“Alert the family,” the female said, then gestured for me to follow as two guards rushed ahead of us inside the gate.
We waited in another courtyard, more of those fountains gurgling, interrupting the tense silence, as the soldiers shifted and eyed me. Roses of every shade mingled in thick bushes lining the walkways leading to the curved castle doors and around the sides, thinning alongside hedge-lined pathways.
“Come,” the guard said gruffly and flicked his hand toward the arched wooden doors that remained open as though I were a stray animal he did not want to sully himself with.
A shadow crossed the red-dressed floor. The prince, his smile and hands spread wide, stepped into the doorway, immediately taking the three circular steps down to greet me with a kiss upon each cheek that did not touch the skin. “Welcome, Princess.” Standing back, he looked around, and his smile drooped a little. “Your entourage?”
“They already return,” I said, surprised at the smooth lie.
After a nod and a glance at the guards behind me, he led me inside. Shocked, I hurried after him, more confused than comforted at how easily my lone arrival had been overlooked.
“I am sorry,” he said as we crossed the entry chamber. Portraits of his ancestors hung on the walls on either side of the soft red carpet. “About your father. He was a good… man.” He was no man at all, but a male of both great heart and power.
The doors shut with an echoing boom that made me flinch and forget about correcting him. The lit sconces guttered and then flared high over the stone walls. “Thank you.”
“Would you care for any refreshments?” he asked, seeming so small now, his rich eyes dull in this place of after. After he’d left without a goodbye and made me think the worst. After my father had escorted he and his men home safely.
After they’d been killed while returning home.
All I could manage was a shake of my head and to entwine my trembling fingers.
Clearing his throat, Bron tucked his hands into the pockets of his dark brown pants. “My mother and father have been sent for. They might already be awaiting us in the great hall.”
“They are aware then,” I said, cautious as we walked down a long hall, deeper into this dark, foreign castle. “That we plan to wed?”
His slight cough and the falter in his next step drew my eyes away from the stairs that zigzagged, their wood clothed in that red carpet, up through the ceiling into the floors beyond. “We shall explain in due time.”
His bland tone and the stiff set of his shoulders caused my mind to whirl. Though, surely, if they’d planned to do me harm, they’d have done so by now. No one had so much as touched me, and besides, they’d be foolish to.
Sinshell might have been a broken kingdom, but the human kingdom would need all the help they could muster if they stood a chance at surviving the blood king.
The great hall was void of anything but two thrones upon a wooden dais, wrapped within two steps. The polished wooden doors opened to reveal the king and queen already seated, their hushed bickering ceasing at the sight of us.
Forced smiles fell into place as they rose. Bron’s mother, Sabrina, was aging at the eyes and mouth but beautiful for it all the same. His father, red-haired and rotund, dragged a finger over his graying moustache, then wiped his hand down his red and brown regalia. “Welcome, Princess Opal.”
“We are so sorry to hear of your father’s passing. It grieves us so to know that if our son had just stayed put during these trying times, then perhaps he would still live.”
Bron looked at the ground, and I fumbled for a response, Sabrina’s brown curls sliding over her shoulder as she shot a glance at her husband. “Thank you,” I finally settled on as a cold weight pressed behind my eyes. “He is greatly missed.”
The queen’s words spoke of a reluctance to have her son anywhere near us more than guilt for not being able to keep a handle on him. Even so, that twinge in my chest worsened as all the many useless what-ifs returned.
“We’ve prepared your quarters for you,” the king said with a clearing of his throat, shaking me loose from my tormenting thoughts. “We hope you will find them pleasing.” Another look from his wife had him sputtering, “Oh, and of course, we will ensure no harm befalls you under our watch.”
“That is most gracious of you indeed, but I must ask of the plans to marry—”
“Child.” Sabrina released a breath that sounded like more of a sigh. “May I be frank?”
I was no child. A fact she was well aware of. Still, given little choice, I nodded. “Yes, of course.”
Stepping down from the dais, she walked toward me with her gown, a sky-blue mixture of ruffles and lace, trailing behind her. A silken gloved arm slid through mine. “I will show you to your rooms while we chat.” We headed through the imposing doors before I could find words for the king or prince and straight to the stairs I’d passed on our way in.
Her arm stayed looped through mine the entire way, and though I waited, drinking in the dancing ornate sconces and the portraits on the wooden panels of the walls that were flanked by bronze and gold tapestries, Sabrina didn’t say a word until we’d reached the very top of the stairwell.
Atop the four steep turns of stairs, a short hall led to only one heavy wooden door, the queen losing her hold on my arm as she struggled to get it open. I could’ve opened it for her just by willing it to, but I doubted she’d appreciate the display of our differences very much.
With a huff that sent spirals of curls from her face, Sabrina opened the door and swept a hand wide for me to enter first. Slowly, I did and recognized I was inside one of the square towers I’d seen on my journey into the city, this one likely the shorter one out of the four given the size of the stairwell and room.
The bronze, red, and gold décor had made its way into these rooms too. The bed, quilted in red with patterned gold whorls and tasseled throw pillows, sat in the center of the room. Two wooden chests of drawers on either side housed shining red metal lanterns, void of flame.