Page 1 of The Princess and The Warrior

1

_____

Althea

The rolling green fields, beautiful white farmhouses, and glittering blue river all looked so lovely from my arched stone window. Hundreds of people were going about their everyday lives down there. The butcher, the baker, and the little old woman at the foot of the hill who made beeswax candles.

I could see them all from the window of my colossal bedroom at the west corner of my father's castle as I turned the antique porcelain cup in my hand, sipping the herbal tea I preferred to the more customary hot water with a spot of milk.

Someday I hoped to walk among the people, and get to know a few of them. It would be wonderful to have a real conversation with someone who wasn’t terrified to look at me the wrong way. I imagined throwing my arms around someone in a genuine hug while we were sharing a laugh over a glass of mead in the pub.

It must be joyous to be touched like a regular person. To be free to touch others. What a wild freedom ordinary people had. Alas, those were only dreams that wouldn’t come true for me for a few years, at least.

Faresha and Lani, my two ladies-in-waiting, burst in the door before I could get lost in my usual late afternoon daydreams.

“Princess Althea,” Faresha sang out merrily. I turned to see her holding out a very fancy white dress. “We must prepare you for a presentation in the throne room.”

Different ladies-in-waiting had come and gone over time. These two had been with me for the past four years, since I turned fifteen , and were in fact the daughters of my mother’s ladies. It used to be simple for me to dress once they’d laid out whatever was deemed appropriate for that day, but things were different now. When I turned nineteen a few months ago, I was required to wear the more complicated, elaborate dresses of an adult lady of the court.

It was incredibly tricky for the three of us to get me in and out of the enormous dresses without anyone touching me.

I’d heard that some customs were quite different in various lands across the realm. But here, a high-born woman could not be touched between her fifth birthday and her wedding ceremony, except in an extreme emergency.

I recalled that when I was ten, I cut my leg on a sharp rock. The doctor showed me how to bandage myself instead of cleaning the wound for me. I didn’t really care if he touched me or not. I was so upset and scared that all I wanted was a hug from my mother.

But that would never have crossed her mind. She didn’t seem particularly interested in being a mother. She simply obeyed the King’s commands, did her royal duties, then hid in her bedchamber doing needlepoint and gossiping with her ladies-in-waiting.

“What is today’s occasion?” I asked, knowing that the ladies always knew far more about the castle’s workings than I ever did. “Not another boring dinner where I’m expected to socialize with the elders, I hope.”

Lani was bent over, straightening the hem of my skirt, and shot Faresha a glance. “Perhaps your father should explain things, your highness,” she said gently.

That was strange. Usually, I was exceptionally well-prepared in advance for all events. If there were traveling dignitaries, I was given their names, and a list of topics to discuss, and often a list to avoid.

Perhaps this was a last-minute affair, such as a simple dinner with one of my father’s extremely wealthy friends. I was often paraded around at those functions. Apparently, people needed to be reminded that since the King’s first daughter was married, his second daughter was now the ultimate prize. If they followed his every command and gave enough lavish gifts to the palace and his court, there was a tiny chance that one of their sons could win my hand.

There was no chance of that for at least another few years. Although the age to be wed was technically nineteen, my sister was not betrothed until she was twenty-one. Father had taken his time finding a suitable match that was both a good strategic alliance for the realm, and that my sister Maggera truly liked.

Not just liked. My sister was lucky enough to have fallen in love with her husband Arnon, and recently shared that she was expecting their third child.

After the ladies had fixed my dress, and I had styled my hair according to their directions, I left my bedchamber. As I left the room two tall soldiers snapped to attention, and they escorted me to the throne room without a word.

Usually, I strolled around the castle freely. With a heavy heart, I wondered if the battle in the south was going poorly and if we were in some sort of danger. But my spirits lifted the moment I saw the white and gold celebration bunting swirling around the rafters of the throne room. A crowd of soldiers, dignitaries, and various nobles was gathered, watching the King intently.

The Queen sat almost motionless beside my father, wearing her official blue robes. She waved me over to stand beside her, as I quickly glanced at the three men standing before the thrones. They were rough, dusty from their travels, and all wearing the leather and steel armor that marked them as our most ferocious fighters.

“Finally,” my father announced, his deep voice booming through the vast room. “General, you may proceed.”

The oldest of the three men stepped forward. “Thank you, your majesty.”

I stood still beside my mother’s throne as the general proceeded to speak at length about the bloody battle in the south. Many wandering hunters had banded together with the kingdom of Skrinton , and had tried to breach our walls, killing several of our soldiers in the process. We would have all been in peril, he explained, were it not for the fast, quick swordsmanship and in

credible bravery of Trax Varanger.

My eyes fell upon the warrior that he gestured to. He was absolutely barbaric, with unkempt black hair and monstrous shoulders. Handsome, perhaps, if he were a more reasonable size, and without the gashes along his forearm. A ragged scar traced the edge of his jaw. His left hand was bleeding slightly through his bandages.

I’d spent my entire life surrounded by refined, educated, elegant men of the royal court. This man was...savage. The way he was staring at me so intensely was terrifying. Yet as I took another careful look, his deep blue eyes weren’t vicious. They were almost kind. His full lips pulled up in a slight smile as he stared back at me.

---