Chapter 4 - News Of Betrayal

And she spat in his face.

Suddenly, his gloved hand moved like flash.

The Ash Of Poppynight he pressed to her nose dizzied her instantly. Her head snapped sideways and her body crumpled.

Then darkness took her.

****

****

The bell tolled for sacrifice.

"Princess Aeryl Diana Frankfurt Of Furtville."

The square fell silent. Heads bowed, as if looking away could erase their guilt.

Her mother clutched her shawl, tear-filled eyes fixed on the ground.

Lilah knelt in chains, a warning to anyone who wanted to resist.

At the edge of the square, the black carriage waited.

Aeryl stumbled as soldiers carried her forward. Their grip was firm, almost steadying.

Cold water splashed her face.

She gasped, blinking to see the crowd. All villagers of Furtville stood there.

Familiar faces. Soldiers. Trays and buckets overflowing with coins, silks, jewels and offerings piled high. Her stomach twisted.

Wealth. Bought with her blood.

Her father stepped forward, hand shaking as he passed a parchment to a soldier.

They shook hands. The deal had been sealed.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Greed wrapped in awe.

Aeryl swayed. Her mother’s tear-filled eyes met hers.

Lilah’s chains were taken away.

Relief ran through Aeryl. Then betrayal followed.

The people had given her up. They called it mercy. She called it traitorship.

The carriage door creaked open, spilling candlelight across the stones.

The lycan prince was waiting inside. Tall, pale, devastatingly beautiful. His eyes dragged over her.

"Bring her."

Her knees shook, but she lifted her chin. She would not bow.

The soldiers moved her closer as she weakly resisted. 

Roses covered the carriage floor, petals slick with red. Something warm dripped onto her hand.

From the shadows, he leaned forward, eyes burning.

"Gold and silver unwasted," he murmured. "Come in, little hybrid."

The door opened wide, like a mouth swallowing her whole.

She dug her heels into the earth but it was useless. The scent of him, iron and roses, wrapped around her like fate.

She was firmly fixed inside. The door slammed shut.

Her mother’s cry split the night.

"Aeryl, forgive us!"

Darkness claimed her as she fainted again on his shoulder. The prince only smiled and looked out the window.

****

****

Aeryl woke to warmth and mist.

Herbs. Soap. Something sweet beneath it all. Milk and roses. She was sitting in a tub of milk and scented roses.

She tried to lift her head and froze.

Five tall women moved around her with bowls and cloths. Flora. Blythe. Uchis. Ethel. Senora. All smiling.

The youngest watched her closely.

Aeryl’s heart raced. She clutched her chest.

"W-what...?"

Flora leaned in, voice soothing. 

"Relax, my lady. Nothing will harm you."

Blythe tilted her head, mischief softening her dark eyes. "You've had quite a journey. Let us tend to you."

Uchis wrung out a soft sponge. "Breathe. Let your worries drift away."

Their calmness spread like heat through the bathmilk. Still trembling, Aeryl let her guard slip just enough to feel their care.

Then memory stabbed through her chest. Myrrh. Her little dog. Tears spilled before she could stop them.

The youngest maid gave a light laugh. "Ah, the prince isn't very courteous, is he? Do not cry, my princess. Our prince is Lord Aramisius Knighte, Prince of Theartera."

The name hit her like a blow. The brutal hands that had wrung Myrrh's neck, the evil man that had dizzied her. He returned to her mind all at once.

Fear clung in her heart.

The women bathed her very gently, cooing reassurances as if she were already theirs for a long time. "See how quickly you heal, our princess," Flora cried, delighted. "The prince will see you at five."

Aeryl froze at the news.

They dressed her in a beautiful, silky white gown and groomed her hair. She forced herself to ask their names. Each bowed in turn: Flora, Blythe, Uchis, Ethel, and Senora, who was the last one, a brunette about Aeryl’s age, with glinting eyes.

They spoke of Aramisius' power, how his name was whispered across kingdoms in awe and fear. Each word only made her feel smaller.

The maids vanished as swiftly as they'd come, leaving her in a bedroom of gold and velvet. Two cooks came in briefly, urging her to eat, then disappeared again.

Alone, the silence pressed in. She sat stiff on the bed, stomach tight, the untouched food getting cold. 

Did the prince kill the donkey she rode as easily as he had killed Myrrh? The thought twisted her chest.

The door creaked. She jumped but relief softened her fright at the sight of a round, smiling old woman. Her eyes glittered warmly.

"Princess Aeryl," the woman said, voice soft. Aeryl blinked in confusion. 

The woman bowed lightly. "I am Nena. I knew your mother, Ariana, as a child. Later, I came to serve at the castle with my late mother."

The words wrapped the room in a faint nostalgia.

Nena's look gentled some more. "My job is to tend the castle's princesses. That includes you now. If you need anything, speak it. I am your bedroom maid."

Aeryl's throat tightened, but she nodded faintly.

"Eat a little." Nena urged, gesturing to the table. "It will help. The prince will see you at 5." 

She gave a deep curtsy, then quietly left.

The door clicked shut. Alone again, Aeryl sat in the silence, fear still heavy, but a fragile spark of safety stayed where Nena's presence had been.

The golden clock read 4:49.

Less than eleven minutes.

Aeryl stood near the window, arms wrapped around herself.

The room was warm. Too warm.

Yet a chill crept along her spine. Her breath caught. Not with fear but recognition.

The pale man's face in the woods flashed in her mind. Like he was waiting for her.

Her fingers curled painfully.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no…”

Myrrh's fearful eyes, his death.

"Myrrh...."

Her chest locked, a sharp ringing filled her ears.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“Myrrh…” Her voice cracked. Her knees buckled.

“I can’t....” She gasped. “I can’t breathe.”

She screamed and ran for the door. She paused there, ruffling and tousling her own hair roughly, hairpins dropping. 

She was sobbing and choking. 

She patted her face continuously, trying to comfort herself but her panic would not go.

Everything around her - gold walls, velvet curtains, scented candles, glittering carvings - mocked her with beauty. 

A golden cage.

What have I gotten myself into? She thought. 

Desperate for distraction, she frantically searched the room: books on war and strategy, gowns lined in silk, velvet robes. Had others lived here before her? Princesses? Queens? Dead? 

The thought made her shiver more.

A knock broke the silence. Soft, too soft to be him.

"Princess Aeryl," a voice called. "My lord wishes to see you now."

She stayed frozen, gasping, pulse hammering, until the guard's voice came again. "I'll go and tell my lord, Princess."

Aeryl slowly began to edge towards the door, her voice lost.

She clasped her hands and shivered, beginning to cry. Then, she heard footsteps. 

She turned, mishearing it and screaming. But the footsteps had been from Aramisius who was coming for her. The door opened, hitting her down as she cried out. 

She was still shaking as she stood up carefully, her body finally relaxing due to the large presence at the door.

But when she looked up, the disappearance of fear paved way for the venom in her heart.

The prince of Theartera stared down at her indifferently, dressed in casuals.

She yelled, attacking him, fists shaking. 

"You bastard! You dead thing! You murderer!" She cried out and grabbed his shirt. "If you weren't so selfish and evil, Myrrh would have still been alive. I wouldn't have - wouldn't have met eyes with that - that strange thing."

"Follow me.... Mate." Aramisius said indifferently.

"Fuck you! I'm not your mate! I reject you! Evil!"

He stepped closer like Aeryl was some dangerous animal. 

One moment, he was across the room. The next, his hand was around her throat, lightly but threateningly, resting her back on the far stone wall.