19. Preparations

Song: Grieg - In the Hall of the Mountain King

*****

Our favourite murderess, Amelia

I woke to the sound of shrill, womanly screams coming from my chambers.

I did not doubt that pillow marks lined my face and body as I groaned. Using my arms I hoisted myself up before crashing back into my pillow and groaning once more.

Whhhhyyyyyy Cora? Whyyyyyyyy?.....

Another scream entered my ears. I glanced at the clock. "It's seven in the morning," I murmur to myself as I finally find the motivation to get my ass out of bed.

Another scream.

"It's seven. In the morning !" I rush across the hall, my bare feet cold against the stone floor. Behind me, I hear a resounding groan from Isaiah's sleeping body.

"Oi!" My jaw drops to the floor as I kick the door open.

On the floor was a sight I'd never thought I'd see in my life.

In the house of lotuses, Bryon had been one of the best students of Commander Maia, the current high commander of the Aresian military. She was known for her ruthless combat techniques and her ability to slaughter a whole regiment with a sword and sheer brutality.

She was a gray-haired woman with dazzling hazel eyes that could stop a bull in its tracks. She had been one of my teachers as well. A mentor, really. It made sense, she was the current high commander, looking after the aspiring next. She was immensely strong for her stature, she was taller than me by only a few inches. Even then, she could lift a hundred-pound crate with no problem.

Almost all of the students at the house had attempted to best her in the art of combat; be it sword or fists she always came out on top.

Expect Bryon. I don't know what drove him so much but after more than sixty matches during our graduation year, Bryon finally brought down the undefeated general. He wrought the respect of the entire school and nobility and many even considered him a better fit for high commander than me. Which I earnestly agreed with. Family laws and inheritance in the military were some of the many laws I would have to change as a queen when I'm crowned.

But still, memories like that made me wonder...

What would Maia's reaction be when she found out that her best student had been brutally beaten in his sleep by a Borelian?

Another shrill scream erupted from his mouth. I cover my ears to no avail.

I think my ears are bleeding.

Lord help me.

"So um.... how did this happen?"

Poor Bryon's arm looked like it might break off of his body, the way Thomas was pulling at it. How did it even get in the position in the first place?

Somehow, Bryon's body was crisscrossed over Thomas's abdomen and his poor arm was bent abstractly under him. I'd never seen Bryon in this much pain in my life. It looked it he was about to give birth to a child, how pained he looked.

I almost laughed if he didn't look like he was gonna cry.

Nevermind, I was going to laugh.

Bryon's lips quivered. "St-stop laughing-" he choked angrily through his tears "- and help me."

My ribs felt like they might break, "I- I'm sorry. How do you want me to help you?"

"I don't know!" His lips quivered again in pain. "Help me..." he pleaded.

I sigh and crouch down next to him. I wonder if I can roll him over and get Thomas to release him? Or should I get him to release him and then roll him over...

"Can someone explain to me why I've just woken up?" Eleanor practically crawls out of her room. "Did Cora take Thomas to bed already?"

"I thought you didn't support the idea of them together."

"I don't. I-" Her gaze lands on Bryon and she immediately freezes. "Wh-what is he doing here?" I can almost smell the embarrassment coming

off her. No matter how much she denies her feelings for him, she's always dressing her best when she knows Bryon will be in her presence.

"Eleanor, my dear." Bryon tries his best for a flirtatious grin. It comes out as an ugly grimace. "How are you this fine morning?"

"None of your business," she retorts tightening her grip on her cloak and inching away.

"Anyways." I scratch my head and move to the other side of the makeshift bed. Carefully, I yank off Thomas's hand. Bryon lets out a sigh of relief.

"Roll over," I tell him and he happily obliges.

He sighs in great relief as he does, sitting on the floor and mercily away from Thomas, he askes me; "How did you manage to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Get me out of his grip so easily?" He refers to the lovely drooling Thomas, still peacefully sleeping on the floor.

I shrug. "Cora used to do the same thing."

Eleanor laughs at the memory. "You'd always have to pull us away from each other in the morning." She pauses for a moment to stare at Thomas.

"They really are a match made in heaven."

"You mean hell?" Bryon retorts, massaging his bruised wrist.

"Indeed." I laugh.

At that moment, Dahlia arrives. We make eye contact for a moment and I smile. "Good morning, Dahlia."

She smiles back. "Good morning, milady. I'm glad you're up. You see we have a sort of problem down in the kitchens and ballroom, Your Highness. If I could just steal you for a moment."

I furrow my eyebrows before realizing the problem. "There's not enough servants to help with preparations for tomorrow's ball. Is there?" After the whole mishap two nights before at the welcoming party, a large chunk of the servants had resigned, claiming that they could not handle working at the palace anymore.

I wonder if they meant that they would not work for a man like Anthony or something else. Treatment of the servants has always been atrocious at the palace, I've always tried to set an example and for the last few months things have been looking up for the servants. However, after Wednesday, I wasn't surprised that so many servants quit. Not after Archie.

She shakes her head gravely, "unfortunately not. Your Highness."

"Mmm. Well. I have a solution."

"Really?" Her eyes light up. "What is it?"

"We'll hire more servants and until then," I rise and dust off my nightgown. " And until then, I'll help with the preparations. As will my friends."

She blinks in surprise. "A-Are you sure?"

We all simply laugh. "Dahlia, you know us. The last thing we do is conform to social norms. Now." I walk over to my closet filled with work pants and shirts. "How can we help?"

*****

"Princess, are you sure you can-"

He stops talking as I rise from the floor, the crate that had formerly been on the floor resting on my shoulder. "What?" I stare blankly at him.

He blinks and steps away from me, a look of mild terror on his face. "No-nothing..."

I furrow my eyebrows at him and look to Bryon, who for some reason didn't like the idea of wearing a shirt and labouring at once. "Why does he look so horrified?" I ask, genuinely perplexed.

Bryon lifts the other crate over his shoulders and looks down at me. He shrugs, "probably has something to do with the fact that you're lifting a crate that's half your size."

I blink. "I am?" I look at the crate and turn to Cora, who has a look of restrained shock on her face. "Is it?"

She nods. "Yes."

"Oh." But it looks so small on Bryon's shoulders. I shrug.

I lift the crate and carry it to across the castle to storehouses near the stables. (1)

***This is one of the most guarded places in the palace. Even in a coup or assassination of a royal family member, no guard leaves their post around the storehouses. In fact, most guards are sent here in an emergency. The nobles are left to fend for themselves but most of the men are militarily trained anyways.

In the case of an attack, the men simply split themselves into groups based on their military rank and file out to the unguarded parts of the castle and women.

It has been this way, even after the end of the war. Twenty years ago.***

When we get there, we have to empty the crates, show our house tattoos and be patted down for weapons. A common procedure. Even in times of peace. (2)

***House tattoos are given to a child of an Aresian noble house, usually, after they'd passed their final exam at the house of lotuses (boys) or Lady Marylin's academy for young ladies (girls). It was an honour to wear one's house tattoo and children who refused to be tattooed are disowned and cut out from the line of succession.

Some houses didn't even give their children their tattoos immediately but made them participate in another test after their final exam, each house test was known to be customized per child. Therefore, there was no way of cheating.***

Though it was unnecessary, it was an adequate procedure that saved multiple lives during the war. It was strange though, even after twenty years of peace, it felt like we were ready to go to war tomorrow. I wonder if it was the paranoia of the government or my mother that drove this. Either way, I saw nothing wrong with the guarding of the storehouses. Not at all.

We entered the warehouse and placed the crates in their assorted section, curtains. I placed the crate down and stretched. My body was sore from the weight of the crate and though the crate was indeed half my size it embarrassed me to know that I couldn't lift it without ease.

"Do we have any more crates waiting for us in the ballroom?" I asked Bryon while messaging my aching shoulder.

He shakes his head. "No that's all."

"Huh." I thought there'd be more.

Perhaps God was being merciful to me today.

Don't jinx it.

*****

"Cora will you just admit that you feel a slight attraction to the Brooks boy." I try to coax her to say it. Maybe I can get her to admit it slowly.

"Nonsense!" She retorts, the colour already rising her neck. "I most certainly do not have feelings for Thomas."

"Mmmmm... and makes you think that?" I try to sound like I believe her. I don't.

"Please! I have higher standards for my men-"

"Mmmmhm."

"They must be poised, graceful, be-"

At that moment a resounding scream echoed throughout the ballroom. Followed by more screams.

Crash!

Boom!

Crash!

Splat!

"T-Thomas... Are you alright?" Isaiah asked after recovering from his fit of laughter.

A single thumb pokes out of the remnants of what used to be a beautiful three-level cake. Now a smashed body of crumbs and frosting.

A half-scream, half-sob enters the hall with Mama Gloria, the head chef of the palace. "The cake!" She shrieks before falling to her knees on the ground. For a moment I consider crying also. Poor chef. She's going to have to remake that entire thing for the ball.

I turn to Cora and. I swear to the Lord. I have never seen a woman more in love with a man.

"Graceful and poised?" I nudge her shoulder and immediately regret it as she punches me. My poor arm.

"Shut up."

"Anything for you madam." I wheeze. Damn her strength.

A cold aura pierces the room and for a moment I feel as if I'd been stabbed by an invisible dagger. Mama Gloria freezes and I watch half the servants freeze and back towards the servant's door.

Oh Lord don't tell me-

"So this is where you've been this afternoon..." Someone clucks their tongue behind me and I consider why I left the bastard to live last night. "I suppose it's suitable for someone of your..." He scans the room in pure unmasked disgust before gazing at me once more. "...Attitude." I watch him smirk as anger floods through me.

Don't fight him here. Don't fight him here. Don't fight him here.

I inhale a breath. "If the environment is so unworthy of his highness's.... presence," I reply to him, trying to keep my voice steady. "May I ask why he's here in the first place."

His jaw clenches and a storm brews behind the amethyst shields of his eyes. For a moment I think he'll try to kill me again and I brace myself to protect my friends and servants.

But he doesn't strike. Instead, we stand there, glaring at each other. I hold my gaze and hold my head high. Like a true Queen would. My fists clench and unclench as the air of the room continues to get colder and colder.

Finally, he turns his back on us and leaves. I nearly vomit from the bile rising in my throat and the pounding of my heart.

"Amelia, calm down. Breath." Eleanor coaxes me and I exhale a tired breath.

Bastard...

*****

This was a long chapter.