Kapitel 11: The King's Ruthless Demand

Nadir turned to Meera with a stern expression. "Were you not taught in training not to fly in front of the princess?"

Meera stood frozen, her wings trembling slightly as she cast her eyes downward. "It was instincts, ma'am. I am sorry, my princess."

I could see the fear in her eyes, and I offered her a reassuring smile. "It's fine, Meera. Just get the barksley juice."

Nadir frowned, her disapproval evident. "You are far too kind, my princess. You should have ordered her punishment."

I couldn't help but laugh at the severity of Nadir's tone. "So, what punishment did you have in mind?"

"For her insolence, several lashes of the correction whip on her bare back," Nadir replied, her voice devoid of emotion. "That way, she will not act on instincts anymore."

I laughed again, this time more softly. "It's fine, Nadir. Don't worry. If she tries it again, you can do as you please," I said jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood.

Nadir bowed deeply. "As you wish, my princess."

Meera, visibly relieved, walked briskly to the kitchen, her steps careful. I watched her go, a pang of sympathy in my heart. She was new, still learning the ways of the court and its many rules. I remembered what it was like to be new, to be afraid of making mistakes.

As I resumed my gentle swinging, I felt the familiar sensation of weightlessness. Swinging made me feel like I had wings, the wind rushing around me, the ground a blur beneath my feet. It was the closest I could get to flying, a sensation I cherished. For a moment, I closed my eyes, imagining that I was soaring through the sky, free.

My thoughts drifted back to Charlotte and the fairybugs. Their parties were always grand affairs, full of pomp and glamour. But beneath the glittering facade lay subtle hostilities. Charlotte, with her bright orange curls and fine golden wings, was the epitome of that world. Her parties were showcases of wealth and power, and I always felt like an outsider.

I sighed, pushing those thoughts away. The invitation would have to be declined delicately to avoid offense. Perhaps I could find a way to send a gift in my stead.

The sound of footsteps approaching once more interrupted my thoughts.

Until a guard whispered into Nadir's ear and she cleared her throat loudly, drawing my attention. "The king demands your presence, my princess," she announced.

I frowned, puzzled. It had only been a few days since I last met my father. Why was he demanding my presence now?

Grudgingly, I left the swing. "Sarir," I said, "tell Meera to bring the barksley juice to my chambers."

Sarir bowed deeply. "Yes, my princess," she said before hurrying off to fulfill my request.

As I walked towards my father's study, a sense of unease settled in my stomach. My father was a man of few words but great authority. If he was summoning me so urgently, it had to be important.

When I entered my father's study, I found him resting in his chair, facing the window. Furrows of concern etched into his face.

"My king," I greeted him formally.

He turned to me, his expression momentarily softening. "My daughter," he replied.

I was taken aback. It was rare for my father to show such open affection. He quickly straightened, his face assuming its usual sternness. "You are here. Sit," he said, motioning to the two chairs before the large table.

I quizzically sat down, my eyes fixed on his.

"What I am about to say may cause you great distress," he began, his voice heavy with emotion. "But I want you to know that I am doing this for your good. I have arranged for you and Philippe to get married."

"What?" I exclaimed, shock reverberating through my body.

Philippe was Charlotte's older brother. Handsome, yes, but he had an enormous ego to match his overgrown wings. He was even worse than his sister.

"That is not possible," I protested. "Have you forgotten he is one of the children who bullied me?"

Memories of that dreadful day flooded back. Philippe had been among those who made fun of me mercilessly, their laughter ringing in my ears. I couldn't marry my bully.

My father sighed deeply. "That was a long time ago. You are no longer a child. You have grown into a beautiful woman and you need a partner to sit with you on the throne."

Philippe's smirking face appeared in my head, I felt bile rising, and I wanted to throw up.

"Father, I can't marry that person. I don't want to get married," I said, my voice shaking with emotion.

King Aric's expression hardened. "You have no choice. You need to secure your place. I fear for you, which is why I am doing this."

"Father, please, I can't marry Philippe," I pleaded, desperation creeping into my voice.

My father shook his head. "You have to. Philippe was about to get engaged to the Mothbud's daughter. You don't understand the gravity of what that entails."

This day was rapidly turning sour. I was not ready for this. "I can't, Father."

My father's frown deepened. "You are my daughter, but I should remind you that beggars are not choosers. In your situation, this is your only hope."

"You should just call me a half-blood," I spat bitterly. "Everyone says it."

My father didn't try to disagree. He just looked at me with a stoic expression.

Tears began to form in my eyes, blurring my vision. Anger and helplessness churned within me. I wanted to scream. The room seemed to close in on me, the walls pressing down, suffocating me. I had no choice in my heritage, no choice in my life, and now, I had no choice in my life partner. I felt hollowed out, my spirit crushed.

"My daughter," my father said softly, "you must understand. This is for the survival of our family, our kingdom."

I looked at him, my eyes burning with unshed tears. "Why does my happiness mean nothing in the face of duty? Why must I sacrifice everything for the sake of politics?"

His expression softened, but his resolve did not waver. "Because that is the burden of royalty. We do not live for ourselves but for our people. For our legacy."

"I am not a pawn to be moved at your whim," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Sometimes, we all are," he replied, his voice equally soft, but unyielding.

The silence that followed was heavy. I stood up, my legs trembling. "If you'll excuse me, Father, I need some time to think."

He nodded, his face a mask of regret and determination. "Take all the time you need, my daughter. But remember, this decision is final."

I walked out of his study, my heart heavy with sorrow. The corridor seemed longer, and darker, as if it mirrored my despair. I needed to escape, to breathe, to find some freedom.

My steps quickened as I made my way to the stables. The corridors blurred around me, When I reached the stables, the familiar scent of hay and horses greeted me.

"I need my mare," I said to the stable hand, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.

The stable hands moved swiftly, but to my dismay, they brought not just Maya, my mare, but several other horses, ready to accompany me. I was grateful that no one spoke to me, but their presence was the last thing I needed.

I turned to the servants, including Nadir, and shouted, "Leave me alone!"

Nadir, always composed, took a step forward. "My princess, we can't leave you. It's not safe."

I raised a finger, my voice cold and unyielding. "No one should follow me. If you do, I will make sure I see your head rolling on the floor."

My words hung in the air, a reminder of the power I held, and the desperation that drove me to use it. The servants hesitated, uncertainty and fear flickering in their eyes. Nadir looked at me with a mix of concern and resignation, but she knew better than to argue.

I jumped onto Maya's back, the feel of the saddle beneath me gave me a small comfort. Maya neighed softly, sensing my distress, and I urged her forward. With a swift kick, we were off, galloping away from the palace, the only home I had ever known.

The wind whipped through my hair, the rhythm of Maya's hooves a steady, reassuring beat. I didn't know where I was going, only that I needed to escape.