Eternally Yours,
Prince Malik
Kitt had to reread the letter several times before she actually believed it was real. Apparently, his father bringing out the whipping boy had also brought out a change of heart in her fiance. She still felt sick when she thought about it: the poor young man dragged in, shoved to the floor, and beaten as he screamed. She couldn't remember the last time she saw something so brutal and horrific.
When her handmaidens got wind of her date with the prince, they insisted on primping her for the occasion. This time, however, Kitt had to put her foot down. When she saw them hauling over a long, flowing wig, she insisted her real hair was adequate enough. Not only was she attached to her short locks, but the wig was hot and itchy. Dismissing her handmaidens' recommendations, Kitt donned a simple bonnet and made her way to the garden.
When she reached her destination, a burst of color flooded Kitt's eyes. Teeming with endless varieties of flowers, it was every bit as resplendent as she expected a castle garden to be. As she searched for Malik, she followed a cobbled path, which was lined with a rainbow of roses and tulips.
Kitt found him almost immediately. In his bright white coat and slicked-back black hair, he stood out against the surfeit of color that surrounded him. When he saw her approaching, he pushed a switch on the side of his sunglasses. The round, dark lenses were rotated upwards, revealing a pair of clear lenses underneath.
“Ah. Lyneah.” Though he greeted her politely, he didn't sound especially enthusiastic. When she sat with him on the picnic blanket, he handed her a golden daffodil. “I must say, you look very beautiful today.”
“Um... thanks.” Kitt could feel her cheeks warming as she accepted the flower and the compliment. She doubted he believed what he was saying, but she appreciated the change in his attitude. Her straw bonnet was making her head hot, so she removed it and said, “And now you're seeing my real hair for the first time.”
“Indeed. It's very short.”
She thought he sounded disappointed. “Do you not like it?”
“No. On the contrary, it's quite appealing. It's... unique.” Malik raked a hand through his own hair as they talked about hers. He needed to be sure it still looked perfect. “It makes you look a bit androgynous.”
“Androgynous?” Kitt chuckled at the word. She had never been described as such. Her hair was short, but she always looked and felt feminine.
“I'm sorry. Does that offend you? It really wasn't intended as an insult.”
“No. It's... alright.” Kitt eyed the picnic basket in front of her. Bunches of grapes were poking out the top. The sight of them made her feel suddenly hungry.
“I suppose we should try to get to know one another,” Malik said. When he saw her glancing at the basket, he pulled it toward him and extracted its contents. There were grapes, strawberries, crackers, sandwiches and biscuits. As he handed her a sandwich, he said, “If you didn't know already, I'm only eighteen. Does it bother you that I'm younger?”
“Er... no.” Kitt reluctantly nibbled on the corner of her sandwich. She would not have minded turkey or chicken, but this sandwich was a thick, pink goo slathered between two slices of bread. She didn't know what it was, and it didn't look appealing, but to her surprise, it didn't taste bad. “You're not that much younger than me.”
“I don't know. There are nearly five years between us. I suppose that could be considered significant.”
“But I'm only--” Kitt caught herself before she said another word. It never occurred to her that the princess could actually be a bit older than she was. “Ah. Yes, well... the five years doesn't bother me so much.”
“I, um... hmm.” Malik struggled with topics to discuss, so he focused on his food for the next minute or so, hoping his fiance would break the ice instead.
Kitt wanted to discuss the whipping boy, but she didn't know how to bring up such a potentially uncomfortable topic. She wanted Malik to warm up to her, and then maybe it would be easier. “So, Malik, what are your hobbies?”
The prince's nose wrinkled. He had no interest in such an inane discussion. “I paint sometimes. I like to collect rocks.”
“Oh, really? Rocks, huh? Wow.” She thought about asking him to elaborate, but it didn't seem like a particularly interesting topic to probe.
“I collect eyeglasses too.” He temporarily removed the ones he was wearing. “The more unique they are, the more I like them. I suppose you could call that a hobby.”
“Indeed,” Kitt quietly agreed. When she tried to think of her own hobbies, her mind went blank. Between working at Lucky's and meeting her stepmother's demands, she never really had time to relax and enjoy herself. And unless “arguing with Doon” counted as a hobby, she could think of very few recent memories that involved recreational pursuits.
“And the eyeglasses are essential, of course, because I also like to read.” Malik put his glasses back on and opened a book. He started reading while he ate his grapes, which made Kitt think he was done talking. He claimed to want to get to know her better, but that would be impossible so long as his eyes were fastened to the page in front of him. Kitt rolled her eyes and sighed. If nothing else, his rudeness was consistent. She didn't want to interrupt his reading, so she ate her dodgy sandwich in silence.
If she'd had a book, she might have copied him, but she didn't. She stared blankly into the garden, watching the flowers sway softly in the breeze. A few petals, caught in the wind, swirled toward the picnic blanket. Kitt picked one up and put it on her nose. She wore it for a few minutes, expecting Prince Malik to comment on it, but he was so engrossed in his book that he never noticed. She eventually wiped the petal from her nose with a sigh.
For a few minutes, she watched a small white bird zigzag through the rosebushes. As cute as he was, she hoped he didn't run into any thorns. She watched a round, dark bee flit between flowers, then she studied her own fingernails, some of which needed to be trimmed. After what felt like an eternity, she started to resent Malik for leaving her with nothing to do.
“So... your whipping boy...” Kitt suddenly spoke up. “How on earth do you and your father think that's okay?”
When Malik looked up from his book, he didn't look surprised by her question. “Ryas has been with me since I was a small boy. He's taken my punishments for as long as I can remember.”
“Ryas. That's his name?” Kitt could feel her brow furrowing. “I don't care how long he's been with you, that doesn't make it okay!”
“Ryas prefers to take punishments on my behalf. He wouldn't want to see me get hurt.”
“Is that so? And has anyone asked Ryas how he feels about this?”
“Of course. In my country, his role would be considered an honor. And while it might seem strange to you, I assure you that having a whipping boy is a common practice where I come from.”
“So you don't even care when he's getting beaten right in front of you?” Kitt asked. “You don't care that your father is beating him and he's screaming and everyone's watching?”
“Of course I care.” Though their conversation continued, Malik turned his attention back to his book and continued to read. He was trying to send a message: Her opinions were not worthy of his undivided attention. “It's embarrassing.”
“Oh, how horrible it must be for you!” Kitt dragged her hands down her face in frustration. “You have you deal with a little embarrassment while someone else suffers some actual pain!”
“As if you wouldn't let someone else take a beating for you.”
“I wouldn't!” Kitt insisted. “To be honest, I don't understand why anyone has to take a beating at all! It seems so... barbarous.”
“Are you done?” Malik turned to the next page in his book and sighed. “Because to be honest, you're hurting my ears a bit. Your voice is sharp and whiny and it unnerves me.”
Kitt was so disgusted by his attitude, she actually felt sick to her stomach. When Malik invited her to lunch and said he wanted to get to know her, was she a
fool to think it would go well? Maybe he was just an arrogant, self-serving, spoiled prince? Maybe it was useless to try to change him? “Do you care about Ryas at all? Do you feel bad for him... even a little bit?”
“Of course.”
“Then why don't you do anything to help him? Why don't you stand up for him?”
The prince pulled off a grape and popped it in his mouth. He didn't answer her question until he finished chewing and swallowing, which he did at his leisure. “Clearly, you have no idea what kind of man my father is. He's a bit... mad.”
Kitt didn't know the situation well enough to question Malik's opinion, so she changed the subject. “If there are any other weird customs in your country, you should probably warn me now.”
“Well, slavery is still legal... although we call it indentured servitude now. And before you go ballistic at the thought, it's really not so bad. The slave enters a contract with his owner, and once that contract is fulfilled, he leaves. The upper class gets free help, and there aren't any homeless people on the streets.”
“Oh, well that just sounds wonderful.”
“It is,” Malik insisted. “Can you really tell me that having freedom as a homeless man would be preferable to working hard and having a roof over your head?”
“I don't think we're going to agree on this, so we might as well abandon this discussion.”
“Good... because you seem determined to start an argument, and all I'd like to do is read and have peace.” Malik raised his book and smiled snidely. “So much for my dreams of having a docile wife...”
“So you don't want me to have my own opinions? You want me to smile and nod and agree with everything you say?”
“That would be wonderful, yes.” Malik chuckled. When he glanced in her direction, his spine was chilled by her hateful expression. The princess looked like she was seconds away from pummeling him. “Goodness, you needn't look so cross! Your brow might get a wrinkle, and that would be such a shame.”
“You know, I really don't like you.”
“Good.” Malik was yawning as he turned another page. “Truth be told, I don't particularly care for you either.”
“Good.”
Kitt could feel her blood boiling under her skin. As their picnic continued in silence, she comforted herself with a single thought.
At least Prince Malik wasn't her fiance! Now, more than ever, Kitt pitied Princess Lyneah.
18
“Good god, why won't he die already?” Marius went to the bed and pressed a finger against King Nikolai's throat, checking for a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. Sometimes the king was so still and pale, it was impossible to know if he still lived. “After all that poison we've given him, the old bastard still clings to life.”
“Yes. That is unfortunate.” Loreina sat beside her comatose husband and swept a lock of hair from his forehead. “Although... I confess I do feel guilty sometimes.”
“Why? I don't!” Marius snorted at her guilt. “The man's over seventy. He's lived a long life, and you've had to suffer as his wife for far too long already. Besides... we deserve this.”
Loreina leaned down to kiss her husband's brow. It was an odd gesture of affection, considering the fact that she was also trying to kill him. But it wasn't as if she hated the man. Queen Loreina only wanted what was rightfully hers. For almost three decades, she had endured her life as the wife of a cold, unaffectionate, much older man. Simply put, King Nikolai's time was over. Loreina truly believed the nation could benefit from the guiding hand of a forceful queen. The nation needed her.
“How long do you think the old man will keep breathing?” Marius asked.
“I haven't the slightest idea! To be honest, I thought he'd be dead already,” Loreina said with a shrug. “But remember... it would be better if he passed away after Lyneah's marriage. Otherwise, people might clamor for her to take the throne instead.”
“I still think we should kill her,” Marius coldly stated. “I know you disagree, but the best course of action isn't always the easiest.”
Loreina brushed off his suggestion with a roll of her eyes and a flick of her wrist. “I won't kill my daughter.”
“Why not? She's never liked you.”
“And I've never particularly liked her,” Loreina reminded him with a sigh. “Nevertheless, the idea of taking my own daughter's life makes me feel... squeamish.”
“She'll be your enemy one day.” Marius stood beside the window with his arms crossed. “Mark my words, she will turn on you eventually.”
Loreina picked up a pillow and let it hover over her husband's face. She often thought about how easy it would be to smother him while he couldn't fight back. By poisoning him slowly, the people were led to believe he was simply ill. But he had been ill long enough. One firm press of the pillow, and he would be gone forever.
With a grunt, Loreina tossed the pillow aside and said, “Might we talk about something more pleasant? You're always plotting and scheming and dreaming and thinking about murdering people. For once, Marius, why don't you say something less dismal?”
“Well, you'll have to forgive me if our shared future is always in my thoughts!” Marius sounded angrier than he meant to, and when he turned around and saw her pouting lips, his heart melted. For as long as he could remember, Marius always had a weakness for Loreina's pouty face. He only ever wanted to make her happy, so anything resembling a frown was an obvious failure. After all their years together, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and every time he looked at her, she took his breath away. Today was no exception. She was wearing a red and black striped corset, and her breasts were pushed so high that she could practically rest her chin atop her bosom. She wore a tiny silver crown on top of her voluminous dark hair, and her black skirt had a slit on one side, which meant her lacy striped stockings were exposed to his gaze. “By god, you are ravishing.”
“Are you trying to compliment me to make me forget what an awful person you are?” Loreina sneered at him. “If that is your goal, I'm going to need a few more compliments.”
“You are beautiful. Your body is a temple at which all others should worship.” As the compliments flowed from his lips, Marius took a step in her direction, toward the bed. “You are cunning and clever and you have the sharpest wit.”
“Hmm.” Loreina took a moment to consider his praise, and with a nod, she said, “Go on.”
Marius took another step toward her. “You are a good ruler... decisive and fair. You're not afraid to make hard decisions. Your opinions and ideas are always phenomenal.”
“I like to think so too,” Loreina agreed with him. “I do have good ideas. I don't think I've ever been wrong in my life!”
“And no matter how old you get...” Marius sat on the bed beside her feet, “you shall always be the loveliest woman in the room.”
“Are you saying I'm old, Marius?” Loreina's eyes narrowed at the thought.
“Not at all, my lady! I am only saying your beauty is timeless, and even as you advance in years, it will not matter.”
“Hmpf. Fair enough.”
Marius started peeling off one of Loreina's stockings, slowly and deliberately. As the material glided from her leg, Marius moaned. The sight of her exposed flesh never failed to inspire him.
“Kiss me,” Loreina said. It sounded more like a command than a request, but Marius was more than happy to oblige. After removing the second stocking, he crawled on top of her and covered her mouth with his. As they kissed, Loreina's husband laid right next to them, unconscious and barely clinging to life.
“I love you, Loreina.” Marius whispered the words against her neck between bouts of devouring her flesh. “I mean that. I don't say it to you enough, but it's true.”
“Hmm.” She didn't say anything, she just started removing his breeches.
“I can't remember the last time you said you loved me.” Marius gently pushed a few wisps of hair from her face. “You still love me, do you not?”
/> “Just be quiet and pleasure me!” Loreina exclaimed, which was a demand he was only too happy to meet. Marius lifted her skirt and dragged her undergarments below her knees. When he entered her, he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the fact that her husband was right beside them on the bed.
Loreina, on the other hand, was rather amused by their close proximity to King Nikolai. While Marius was inside her, she studied her husband's face with a grin on her lips. It was the least he deserved for giving her such a miserable life. He might have made her a queen, and she was grateful for that, but she wanted him gone. She often imagined another life for herself, one where she didn't spend the prime years of her life tied down to a fragile old man without any joy.
Marius finished with a grunt, then he rolled out of bed and hopped back into his breeches. “Do you... do you think...” He hesitated to ask the question that hovered in his mind.
“Do I think what?”
“Do you think Nikolai is aware of what's happening? What if even a small part of him is still conscious?” Marius was wincing at the thought. “And what if he wakes, remembers what happened, and decides to punish us?”
“Good God! What happened to the brave, confident Marius from a moment ago?” Loreina was chuckling as she pulled on her stockings. “He's not going to wake up! It's just not likely. And even if, by some insidious miracle, he does regain consciousness... we would take his life before he spoke to anyone!”
“I... suppose.” Marius watched the sleeping king with wary eyes, as if he expected him to wake at any second.
“I will consider what you said about killing Lyneah,” Loreina calmly told him. “If I truly believe she'll cause more trouble for us, I will not let her interfere. When Doon returns, perhaps I'll even ask him to kill her.”
“Oh no! I wouldn't do that!” Marius' head was adamantly shaking. “Captain Doon likes her. I can tell. It wouldn't happen. More than likely, he would simply run to her and tell her your plans.”
“He likes her?” The queen's nose wrinkled with disgust as she processed Marius' claim. “Doon fancies Lyneah?” She crossed her arms and pouted like a child. “Well, I suppose that is yet another reason to have her killed.”
The Barefoot Barmaid (Belles & Bullets Book 1) Page 11