Chapter Two: The Pleasure of a Blade
“I am so pleased that warm weather has come,” Leonetta spoke as she leaned in to smell the blooming flowers along the garden path. “Are you pleased to have found yourself here, My Lady?”
Ashia looked up from her hands, surprised that her mistress was asking her such a frivolous question. She had just arrived two weeks before on a ship from the Broom Isles. Her father hadn’t the money to pay his taxes to their king and sold her into slavery. Leonetta had been in the harbor that day on a journey to choose fabrics for her wedding gown. Ashia had been the only female slave, and Leonetta immediately purchased her and made a place for her at her side.
“Oh, very much, Your Grace,” Ashia said bowing her head. “It is a great honor to serve the future Queen of Avalon. A person could not ask for much more from this life.”
Leonetta stood up straight and whirled around toward the girl, frightening her. She eased her stature, realizing the effect she had on the girl and walked toward her. Leonetta reached out and lifted Ashia’s chin and stared into her crystal-blue eyes. The girl was utterly striking with long, flowing black hair, tan skin, and eyes bluer than the waters of Fortune.
“My Lady,” Leonetta said kindly, “I think you will come to understand I hate the idea of humans as slaves. And though I cannot currently do anything about it, what I can do is ask that you speak to me as you would a fellow slave. I made you my hand because I needed someone greater than just a person to empty my chamber pot and brush my hair. I need a confidant–a friend, to be clearer. Can you do this for me?”
Ashia stood staring at the princess inquisitively. She was already used to unfair and manipulative treatment, and she feared this, too, was nothing more than a trap. She took a deep breath, slowly let it out, and answered in high hopes.
“If that is what you wish, Your Grace, then I would have it no other way and would be honored to have you as a friend,” she said, bowing slightly.
“Good,” Leonetta stated, hooking her arm into Ashia’s. “Then it is settled.”
The two walked slowly through the gardens, whispering to each other of the happenings in the kingdom. The sun was bright overhead, and Leonetta paused to feel it on her face. She remembered being a child, running through the fields outside of Avalon’s gates, feeling the tall grasses under her fingertips and wishing she could stay there forever. She was not the future queen that reveled in fine clothing, expensive, jewels, and an adoring kingdom. Rather, she was quiet, reserved, and found her mind racing off to her homeland, the Vale. Even though she had never been there, the elf king had paid her a visit when she was breaching her sixteenth mark of birth and showed her, through thoughts, the glory of his kingdom.
These roses are almost as beautiful as my future queen. Leonetta’s eyes glimmered, and a smile washed over her face at the sound of Holland’s voice in her head. Ashia looked inquisitively at Leonetta, not understanding her sudden change in mood. There were no shifters in the Broom Isles, only ogres, trolls, and warriors, so she was not used to the shifters’ way of communication.
Leonetta looked down the path leading to the fountain where the rose bushes sat. Standing at the end was Holland, his bright red hair blowing gently around his face, a huge grin pointed in her direction. She unhooked arms with Ashia and ran down the path, her blue, flowing gown flitting behind her and her breasts heaving from the corset beneath her dress. She flew into Holland’s arms, knocking him back slightly and kissing him all over his face.
“Oh, I’ve missed you,” she said, laying her cheek against his chest.
“I see you each day, Your Grace,” Holland said teasingly. “But these lips….”
He lifted Leonetta’s chin toward him and bent down, brushing his lips against hers. There was a time–just a few years past–he wondered if the taste of her lips was only enticing because it was forbidden, but that thought had since left. He had been in love with the princess her whole life, and she with him, something they knew they had to enjoy while it lasted.
Holland lifted his lips from hers and stared deep into her eyes, forgetting for just a moment that he was still enslaved inside the walls of Avalon. Movement caught his eye, and he looked up at Ashia, who was standing, her hands clasped, and her eyes pointed at the ground. He smirked slightly at the rosy complexion that fell over her as she stood watching their secret.
“My Lady,” Holland said, pulling from Leonetta and bowing. “The commander requests your presence in his chambers.”
Leonetta turned to Ashia, watching as a recognition of fear spread across her face. Her hands began to tremble, and she looked to Leonetta for comfort. Leonetta quickly crossed to her and wrapped her arms around the thin frame of the girl. She rubbed her back and whispered into her ear.
“The travesties that befall you by the future king will not be forgotten. I promise I will make this up to you, but until I can change these laws, I am afraid you must comply, or he will have you chained.”
Ashia held on to Leonetta’s comforting grasp as long as possible. She stood in the garden light, enjoying her last moments of chastity while knowing her time in the commander’s chambers would leave a lasting mark. A tear flowed from her eye, glistening in the sun and reflecting the red from the roses as it moved down her cheek.
“There, there,” Leonetta said, wiping the tear away. “You must look happy. It will not end you, and when you are done, I shall see you have a proper bath. Okay?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Ashia said, taking in a deep breath.
“Do you know where he stays, or shall I escort you?” Holland asked with remorse. He had not thought of what this would do to such a young girl, especially watching troves of ladies enter and exit the commander’s chambers weekly.
“It will not be necessary,” Ashia said with a strong voice. “I know where he stays.”
Leonetta watched as Ashia gracefully made her way back through the garden, the gold in her neck and wrist cuffs–the sign of a royal slave–sparkling in the sun. Once she had turned the corner from sight, Leonetta turned back angrily toward Holland and clenched her fists. She ached for Ashia, being thankful she still had her chastity intact.
“I should slit his throat while he sleeps,” she said through gritted teeth. “He has no respect for me, for this kingdom, or for any lives.”
“Leonetta,” Holland whispered, taking her by the arm and pulling her to the edge of the opening, “you cannot speak that way. Even queens can be tried for treason. It is the way the world has become, and there is no use in getting so angry and sending anger to the heavens over something you cannot yet change.
Leonetta stood for a moment, breathing heavily and thinking about Holland’s words. Slowly, her muscles began to un-tense, and her hands fell lazily at her sides. She grasped onto the edges of the silk hanging from her gown and smoothed them through her fingers.
“Your words are wise,” she finally concluded. “I just hate to see such hatred in this world.” Leonetta looked up, catching Holland’s gaze, sadness covering her face, and dimming her emerald eyes.
“I know, sweet princess,” Holland said, stepping closer and brushing his hand against her soft cheek. “But even this is temporary. We will find a way.”
Leonetta closed her eyes as his hand moved down her cheek, grazing her neck and falling softly across her collar bone. When her eyes reopened, they held a different tense than before, and Holland’s heartbeat quickened at the sight of wanting in her look. He leaned down and pulled her close to him, pressing his lips hard against hers and caressing them with swipes of his tongue.
“I want to be alone with you,” Leonetta cooed, her eyes still closed from the kiss. “Is there a time later for a flight?”
Holland stood thinking for a moment before opening up his mind to hear Oedipus. He quickly closed it, his cheeks blushing slightly at the sounds from his bedroom. He took Leonetta’s hand and pulled her through the garden, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. As she approached the corner by the palace walls, she looked up in amazement at the blooms of golden hops hanging down from trellis that lined the walkway. She usually didn’t have the opportunity to travel back this far, and she breathed in the sweet scent of nectar, reminiscing of the way Avalon used to be.
The area was almost completely enclosed in flowers, shielding any view from the castle. In the center of the enclosure was a single bench, covered in soft, yellow pillows. Leonetta looked at Holland in amazement.
“This was your mother’s,” he said quietly. “She had it built when she was pregnant with you. I don’t remember it, but my father spoke of it a few days ago, so I came, and sure enough, it was still here. Apparently, your mother’s Hand, now working in the kitchens, comes out here and maintains it in memory of your mother.”
Leonetta walked slowly around the enclosure, running her delicate hands across the flowering pods. She knew she could–using the power of the fae–muster past memories from this room. She longed to know her mother, but the only remnants of her after father banned anything to do with her from the castle out of grief was a small drawn picture her mother’s Hand had given her. She kept it tucked under her pillow at night and in her bustier during the day. The edges were worn, but she could still make out the beautiful smile on her mother’s face.
She sauntered over to the bench and gingerly sat down, rubbing the soft fabric under her hands. She could almost imagine her mother sitting here, her own body growing inside of her. Leonetta wanted to muster her memory right then, but she looked up at Holland, standing there smiling at her, and an overwhelming feeling of need came over her. She reached out her hand, bringing him next to her on the bench.
Holland reached for Leonetta, sliding his hands across the smooth silk of her gown and pulling her against him, the heaving of her breasts causing electricity to bolt through him. She reached up and ran her hands softly through his hair and kissed the crevice between his neck and shoulders. He leaned in, breathing deeply, hoping that her floral perfume would cling to his nostrils.
The two sat in an embrace for quite a while, negligibly ignoring the passing time and those coming and going from the castle. With their lips pressed together and the magnetic attraction between the two, time seemed to not exist when they were close. Just as Holland reached around Leonetta and gently tugged at the buttons on the back of her dress, a voice sounded out, causing both to jump from their embrace.
Ashia stood at the opening of the trellis, her cheeks blushing for the intrusion, and her hands clutched tightly together. Leonetta stood from the bench and ran to her side, realizing there was more to her strained stance than just embarrassment. She looked down at her legs, hand prints beginning to bruise on her thighs, and a small line of dried blood that stayed imprinted on her dark tan skin. She wrapped her arms around the small servant girl and hummed a fae melody softly in her ear.
“Draw a bath in my quarters,” Leonetta spoke to another girl that had escorted Ashia into the gardens. “Bring salts and lavender. Have a guard placed outside of my room.”
The girl bowed and ran off toward the castle kitchen. Leonetta pulled back from Ashia and lifted her face up, the light causing Ashia to blink quickly. There were red splotches on her cheeks, but Leonetta couldn’t tell if it was from a beating or Ashia’s tears that she was now holding back. She turned and winked at Holland, who was staring angrily out the trellis doors and up at the castle. She put her arm around Ashia and began walking toward the doors to the porch.
“We will get you well taken care of,” Leonetta whispered. “This will not be forgotten. You have my word.”
Holland watched as the two girls walked slowly across the garden path, Ashia’s legs losing momentum at different points. Anger was boiling in the pit of his stomach, and he knew if he had been his dragon at that moment he would have torched the entire grounds. He gathered his sword from the bench and tucked it in a hollow along the trellis line and made his way to the castle gates. Once outside, his stride did not slow as he moved through the dark and dusty streets, more anger penetrating his chest as he passed small children starving in the dirt. The guards at the front bowed to the commander’s assistant and asked no questions as they opened a small door allowing him to walk out of Thorn’s high walls.
Holland waited until he heard the latch lock on the door behind him and took off running down the path. With every step, energy surged through him, and his skin began to shimmer in the late afternoon sun. With a burst of speed, he leaped into the air, his body moving and changing as he came down. When Holland touched back down, he was no longer human, and his black claws dug deep into the burnt soil beneath him. He raised up, as tall as the city walls behind him, letting out a roar that echoed through the hills and down into the flatlands below.
He knew he must take flight–soar with the air against his scales–as far away from his commander as he could get in that moment. He feared if he had stayed for just a moment longer, Oedipus would be nothing more than shreds of a man tossed across the flowering barriers of the garden. He may be golden at heart, but the injustices his commander continued to cause slowly chipped away at the honor he once had for the king’s men. At that moment, even Leonetta’s sweet face was charred from his mind.
***
Steam rose from the large, wooden tub sitting in the princess’ chambers. The maiden poured the last bit of hot water in, bowed, and left the room. Ashia sat, arms tightly around her naked body, as Leonetta tossed lavender branches into the water and sprinkled salt throughout. Slowly, the smell reached Ashia’s nose, and her muscles began to relax. It was a rare occasion that Leonetta used her fae magic, especially since she had only been taught a little bit of it before her father had forbidden the lessons, but this moment was exactly what it was intended for.
Leonetta washed her hands in the hand bowl on the counter and walked over to the tub, kneeling behind Ashia. She began to chant quietly under her breath, glowing blue rays flowing from her hands. She placed her hands on Ashia’s shoulders and watched as that blue light moved over her, covering every inch of her body. As Leonetta released, she fell back slightly, the magic within her taking a small toll on her immortal body. Though the fae were thought of as immortal, they could, in fact, be killed. Either a blow severing the head from their neck, or the use of their magic for an extended time could end their lives.
As the blue light dissipated, Ashia breathed a sigh of relief, all injuries fading from memory. Leonetta pulled herself up and kissed Ashia on the forehead and turned toward the door. She paused and looked over at her Hand who was utterly exhausted.
“Stay and soak,” she whispered. “I have something to attend to.”
The castle was quiet today, and the sound of Leonetta’s feet hitting the stone floors echoed through the halls. Her anger was rising with each step as she imagined her future husband–and future king–lounging in his bed after desecrating her Hand. She did not slow as she approached Oedipus’ chamber doors and gave the guard a nasty look as she passed. She flung open the large, wooden door and crossed the room to the windows, throwing open the curtains and letting light flood the room. Oedipus turned over in his bed and groaned.
Without pause, she crossed to his desk, grabbing a small dagger, and walked quickly to his bedside. She pressed the blade to Oedipus’ neck, his eyes still closed in sleep. Slowly, he opened them, looking up at Leonetta, a grin spreading across his face.
“I swear to the gods I will cut your throat and let you die here,” she whispered through gritted teeth.
“I would die no other way, my dear,” he said, keeping perfect eye contact with her. “But it would be a travesty for me not to witness your father behead you for killing the future king and his most trusted advisor.”
“I do not fear my father,” she protested, pushing the knife harder against his skin.
“A stupid idea to have, considering he doesn’t even wish to look at you,” Oedipus replied, still smiling.
“Today is not the day I meet my death, but I promise you, one day, king or not, I will rid this world of your pestilence.” With that, Leonetta withdrew the dagger and tossed it on the floor. She walked toward the door but stopped at the sound of Oedipus’ voice as he dressed.
“I would do to you what I did to your lovely Hand, but your father would be unhappy, seeing as he gives his luck to the gods. But trust me,” he said, crossing the room quickly and grabbing Leonetta by the face, “if you ever come to me in that manner again, you will pray for death.”
Leonetta grabbed Oedipus’ hand against her cheeks and smiled as she spit in his face. Oedipus drew his hand back and swung, letting the outside of his hand meet sharply with her skin. Leonetta fell to the floor, grabbing her cheek and looking back at the commander.
“Watch yourself, girl,” he said, wiping his face with the handkerchief from his pocket. “Or you will find that your reign as queen may come to a bloody end. Oedipus stepped over Leonetta, opening the door and exiting. The guard turned to look inside, but being loyal to the commander let the princess stay on the ground. Slowly, she picked herself up, pressing a hand against her stomach to steady her breathing.
She searched her mind for answers, refusing to believe this was her future. Many nights she had sat at her window, creating a plan to rule Avalon but never speaking of it to anyone. Leonetta knew there wasn’t a point to attacking her future husband, but at that moment, standing in the cold, barren chambers, her resolve changed, and so did her plan.
Leonetta, feeling her cheek begin to heal from the magic inside her, made her way down through the castle and into the dungeon. She tiptoed through the damp smelling halls underneath Castle Thorn until she reached a large, wooden door. She knocked three times and waited as footsteps approached. The door creaked open, and Ardontis peeked out at the princess.
“Your Grace,” he said, shuffling to the side to allow her to enter. “Forgive me of the mess, I was not expecting you.”
Leonetta nodded and looked around the room. It was large and dark, with tall stone walls and bookshelves lining every corner. Papers were strewn across the Faith’s desk, and he scrambled to organize them quickly. She put her hand up and sighed.
“Do not worry yourself, Your Faith,” she commanded. He stopped and looked up at her inquisitively.
“What brings you to the dungeon on a day like today?” he asked carefully. No one visited Ardontis outside of service to the gods unless there was a secret afloat. “Should you not be preparing for your wedding? It is only a moon’s cycle away.”
“I have a question for you,” she spoke strongly, ignoring his questions. “How strong is your dedication to my kingdom?”
“My Lady,” he replied with a dry chuckle. “I would say pretty strong, seeing as I have been here for many marks before your father was king. Why do you ask?”
“Would you say your loyalty lies more with the kingdom than the throne?” she continued.
“That is a difficult question, as they are both as one in my eyes,” he replied politically.
“Ardontis,” she said, taking a seat across from him, “my father’s reign is growing short; we all know this. When I take the throne on my eighteenth mark of birth, he announced he will be rescinding his chair to my betrothed.” Ardontis nodded in agreement.
“My betrothed is not fit to bring Avalon back to its greatness,” she said swiftly, without remorse. “So, I am here to ask for your service.”
“Your Grace,” Ardontis said, attempting to weigh his words carefully, “you will be the queen. Of course, you have my service. I can attempt to council Oedipus as time passes, but we know he is strong-willed.”
“I am asking for your allegiance,” she blurted out, annoyed by his unwillingness to embrace her thoughts. “Only mine.”
“My Lady,” he gasped, “what you speak of is treason.”
“Come, Ardontis,” Leonetta said as she rose from her chair and walked over to the bookshelf. “Let’s not pretend that you are not the one lurking in the shadows, collecting secrets, and instrumenting the kingdom’s path.”
Ardontis stood quietly, folding his hands in front of him and watching as the princess perused his books. He knew where this conversation was going, but he needed her to say it herself. The princess was the next Queen of Avalon, and for that, she must be bold in her intentions.
“I’ll say it plainly,” she spoke, not waiting for a response. “For far too long I have watched Avalon seep into the dismal demise of my father’s grief. Slaves are sold by the hundreds daily, and our people have fallen into poverty. I want to rule Avalon…alone.”
With those words, Ardontis walked over to the door and closed it from prying ears, leaving just the two of them in the cold, dark dungeon.