Page 87 of Downfall of a Princess

“So, as it stands right now, there is no future for an unmarried man.”

“An unmarried man is a wasted potential. He’s at best useless to our society. At worst, he’s dangerous. A man’s very purpose is to be a husband and a father. His place is at home, taking care of the house and the children, so his wife can work and provide for them.”

“But why is a woman allowed to be so much more than just a mother and a wife when a man is not?” I wouldn’t give up. “Does it seem fair to you?”

Father drew in a long breath, looking ready for a lengthy discussion.

“That’s how it has always been, Ari,” he said, folding his hands on the glass top of the cigar table. “Our society is built through the wisdom of hundreds of generations. Our way of life has withstood the test of time. Look at our gods for guidance. There are only two divine males. Rethaf is the God of Marriage, the husband of the greatest Sun Goddess, and the father of her four children. Her three daughters are the goddesses of War, Peace, and Governance. And her son is Yarnus, the God of Youth and Purity.”

A serene expression relaxed Father’s features as he spoke about the deities, and I didn’t interrupt him.

“Rethaf is a vessel of patience and wisdom,” Father said. “He provides a continuous support to his esteemed wife and is revered as the ideal that all our youth should aspire to. The Goddess’s son Yarnus represents the starting point of every young man’s journey. Looking up to Yarnus, a young boy preserves his purity of both body and soul, saving himself for his future wife. Because only in marriage can he fulfill his life’s purpose as a father and a husband. The life of an unmarried man is wasted for both the gods and the society. His seed, if spilled freely, is an insult to his purpose.”

“Is procreation life’s only goal, Father?” I asked.

“For a man, it is the only one worth achieving. My life was not complete until Goddess sent you to us. I wake up every morning with a prayer of gratitude for her blessing us with a daughter and letting our bloodline continue. Only by becoming a husband and a father, the man earns the highest respect.”

Procreation was important in order for a society to go on. A woman’s choice to remain unmarried would be frowned upon too. If she was a woman of means, she’d be pestered by fathers of young gentlemen to marry one of their sons. But even if she chose to remain single for life, she would not become a pariah in Rorrim’s society. She’d have more options to support herself, too, more chances to avoid the path to poverty that Salas had been pushed onto.

Before I could argue, however, a knock on the door interrupted us.

One of Father’s valets entered, “Your Highness, Her Majesty demands your presence for today’s city report.”

“Now?”

It was too early for the report. Something must’ve happened if the queen wanted it ahead of schedule.

“Sorry, Father.” I gave him a peck on the cheek. “We’ll continue this conversation some other time.”

“Of course, dearest. It’s always a pleasure talking to you.”

ON MY WAY TO MOTHER’Sstudy, I ran into Gem. Her features were pinched into a frown of concentration.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

She darted a cautious look around before speaking quietly, only for me to hear.

“There was a murder in the city last night. A second one. Two murders a week apart.”

Crime in Rorrim was mostly reduced to theft or an occasional fist fight, hardly warranting alerting the queen. A murder happened rarely, usually when a brawl got out of hand. Most of those took place between men and were blamed on the nature of their gender that apparently cursed them with a hefty share of aggression.

Gem’s expression remained somber as we approached the doors to the queen’s study.

“Two women were killed on two separate nights,” she whispered quickly as the guards swung the doors open for us. “Possibly by the same man.”

I worried my lip, stepping over the threshold. Aggression against women was socially and legally unacceptable and was always punished harshly. A murder of a woman was a grievous crime. It had to be thoroughly investigated. But two murders in one week? That was extraordinary. It certainly demanded immediate action from the crown.

Mother was sitting at her writing desk, half-turned in her high-backed armchair to face Madam Trela, the Head of the City Guards. Madam Trela’s social position wasn’t high enough to sit in the presence of the queen. She remained standing, her hands in lacy lilac gloves clamped together in front of her. The fitted jacket of the same lilac color as the gloves hugged her voluptuous figure tightly. The jacket’s flowery print clashed with the orange polka dots of her long skirt so violently, it proved impossible to look at both pieces at once. I chose to focus on her straw hat, instead, which seemed a safer option.

“Your Highness. Lady Chamberlain.” Madam Trela greeted us with a brief bow of her head, the bunch of bright flowers on her hat swayed with the movement.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Madam Trela,” I said. “Sadly, the reason for your visit is far from pleasant, I hear.”

The woman sighed. “True, true. I don’t usually come here bringing good news, do I?”

“There was a murder in the city last night,” Mother went straight to the point, filling us in. “A woman was killed. A second woman in... what?” She glanced at Madam Trela. “In seven days, was it?”

“Yes, yes.” The head of the city guards nodded, the flowers on her hat drooping solemnly. “Two murders in seven days. Both victims are women. The first one is Madam Elims, a grocer from the east end of the city. She was murdered not far from the establishment called Sweet Gentlemen.”

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