The Princess Gambit

Meeka squeezed into the hole made in the fence, staring at the bouquet of sunflowers in her hands.

“They smell wonderful." She muttered to herself, inhaling the flowers.

Sneaking to the festival was such a good idea after all.

With a smile on her face, Meeka raised her head up to see a blade sticking out of her father's back.

Bodies lay around the garden, the white rose flowers she had once adored stained with splatters of blood.

The flowers slipped from her fingers; she covered her mouth, hiding behind one of the rosebushes.

The ruffling attracting the attention of the one who had stabbed her father.

Her eyes widened, fingers digging deep into her cheeks as she tried not to make a sound.

Why was it him?

Her eyes couldn't help but search for her mother, hoping that her mother was safe.

The royal figure clad in red, a heavy crown on her head, caught her eyes; the queen, always graceful in movements, laid there helpless.

He moved closer and closer, almost getting to where she was, when her mother grabbed his cape, preventing him from moving further.

“You'd get your retribution for this.” She cursed, but his sword just pierced through her back like she was an insignificant figure.

Meeka's fingers could barely stay in place anymore; the air grew heavy as he stared in her direction.

The fiery look in the queen's gaze slowly dimmed, and for the first time in her life, she saw tears roll down her eyes.

The realization hit— she collapsed onto the ground, her eyes widened with shock.

Her mother was gone, right before her eyes, she watched life leave her.

He removed his sword from the queen's body, as he got closer, Meeka heard a soft hum, a tone so soothing it eased her worried heart.

“Mother!” Meeka yelled, her eyes snapping open as she jolted from the bed.

Her head covered in beads of sweat, she had dreamt of that day.

Gripping the soft woolen  blanket, Meeka stared around to see the familiar haystacks around her, making her breathe a sigh of relief.

It's been three months since then; that day haunted her dreams night after night, an illusion she would forever be trapped in.

Sitting up, Meeka spots something unusual by her side; it was a bird feather. It didn't look like the ones she had read about in books.

How did a bird get into the barn?

“Meeka!” Astoria's excited voice interrupted her thoughts, and Meeka unconsciously hid the feather, even before she realized what she did.

“Guess what?” Astoria jumped, twirling her pigtail. She inched closer to Meeka, gripping her shoulders.

“What?” Meeka inquired, trying to wiggle away from Astoria's hold but was held back by her.

“A palace recruiter is coming today.”

The moment Meeka heard the word palace, she turned to face Astoria seriously.

“What did you just say?” She questioned, holding Astoria's wrist.

“You are hurting me.” Astoria hissed, freeing herself from Meeka's grip while massaging her wrist.

“A palace recruiter is coming today for a selection-”

“Why?” Meeka interrupted Astoria before she could finish, her eyes squared at her. Could it be her location had been exposed?

“There are shortages of staff after the new emperor took over.”

Meeka nods her head hearing Astoria's explanation. She relaxes back onto her bed, her fist tightening.

For three months she had endured living among commoners; maybe this was her chance.

She could go to the palace to find out any news concerning that traitor.

Thinking about him, Meeka felt bile rise up her throat; his blood-stained body and murderous grey eyes were imprinted in her mind. She would make him pay no matter what.

Astoria waved her hand in front of Meeka, pulling her out of her thoughts. “What?”

“You should probably get ready, wear your good clothes today, the ones that make your brown eyes pop; who knows if your beauty would be enough to bewitch them.”

Giggling, Astoria skipped out of the room, clearly excited for the selection.

Meeka stared out the window, the bright sun casting its soft light on her silk hair, its color as vibrant as high desert dunes.

The dullness in her eyes was replaced with a sharpness as her eyes narrowed.

“Hail Dazhborg.” Meeka muttered underneath her breath, the gods had given her a chance of revenge, one for which she was grateful.

Carefully, Meeka got ready, taking her shower out in the public bathroom, the water trailing down her graceful figure.

There was only one mirror in the whole lounge, and it hung here, in this wooden bathroom, cracks all around it. Wearing her uniform, Meeka's gaze never failed to leave the mirror.

Hopefully the odds would be in her favour.

Astoria might be enthusiastic and innocent, but she was right about one thing: the only sure way of getting into the palace was making sure to attract the recruiter's attention.

The lounge was busy trying to make everything perfect for people from the palace.

“We can't afford that.” Meeka heard the owners whisper amongst themselves, their brows furrowed with worry, while the other sighed, taking a drink.

Ever since the new emperor took the throne, things have been incredibly difficult for commoners, every dime coming at an expense.

That was why this was seen as a golden opportunity; in other words, Meeka had a lot of competition.

The once scanty lounge was now filled with flowers, the customers escorted out one by one, the owners bowing at each departure while Meeka and the other workers lined up.

Like jewelry up for an auction.

Soon the trotting of horses could be heard, the loud dragging of the carriage wheels against the stony ground.

The doors opened, and heavy footsteps of what sounded like a dozen men were heard, but no one dared to look up.

“Greetings to the representative of the sun of the empire.” Everyone greeted in unison.

A low hum was said in acknowledgement, then the soft voice proceeded to ask for the list, the owners scrambling to hand it over immediately, almost bumping into each other.

They called out each name and then pointed to everyone in accordance.

Meeka's back was stiff; her sweat dropped onto the wooden floor as the recruiter proceeded to call a list of names he was interested in.

“Astoria.” He said lastly before handing over the scroll back to the owners, “That would be all for now.”

Meeka's head jerked up before she could stop herself, her heart coming to a temporary stop the moment she saw the recruiter.

He looked... exactly like him.

Her eyes stayed glued to the wooden floor, not daring to move.

She took a deep breath, trying to stabilize her emotions, her fingers digging deep into her palm.

She had just caught a glimpse; there was no mistake, those grey eyes were the same ones that haunted her dreams.

"You—what is your name?” Meeka stayed silent, not daring to respond.

If she slipped up, it could cost her life before her revenge.

Her hands went down to her sides, softly grazing against the hard wood through the fabric of her skirt.

Due to her paranoia, she had sharpened wood to substitute for a dagger anytime she went out, just in case.

It was finally coming in handy.

“The recruiter speaks to you!” The owner reprimanded her harshly, the fear visible in his voice.

Meeka smiled, bending her elbows as she bowed slightly. “This maiden's name is Meeka.”

Even if she died today, she would make sure she died alongside the wolf in sheep's clothing.

After all, today was a lovely day to appease her parents.

Meeka stayed in place for a long time, her knees barely able to keep up with bending for that long.

Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, a soft sigh escaped his lips.

“Fine, I'll make an exception for you; you shall be the last one. You all are dismissed.”

What?

Still unable to process everything, Astoria grabbed Meeka, shaking her enthusiastically.

“I knew you would make it.” Astoria grinned, and Meeka just pried her hands away, staring at the rows of the knights who stood guard at the door.

He really didn't investigate her name further? After all, she had used her real name.

“What are you staring at? Let's go get ready.” Astoria pulled Meeka away.

“Too much extravagance.” Meeka muttered underneath her breath as she was being dragged away.

During this journey, she would surely find a way to execute the cold-blooded traitor.

“We are really going to make it to the palace!” Astoria squealed the moment they got into the barn, earning the neighs of the horses.

Meeka smiled softly; she was a commoner after all, so her reaction was valid.

Staring around the barn, the broken window that brought in extreme sunlight every morning, and the horses that she had grown accustomed to.

A slight discomfort inched into her heart.

A knock on the door made them jolt a bit.

“The recruiter urges everyone to get ready; we leave before sundown.” The knight announced from outside.

Wasting no time, Astoria and Meeka tidied up, packing their things, while Meeka fed the horses their hay, even if it was for the last time.

Petting them, she was reminded of the Friesian horse her father had once gifted. She wondered if it was still at the palace.

“Don't be scared.” She whispered, pressing her forehead against the horse, uncertain whether she was speaking to herself, the horse, or her dear horse Dymka.

“Meeka?” Astoria called out, tilting her head confused as she watched the interaction.

“Let's go.” Meeka snapped out of her reminisce, her hands gripping the gate for a bit before letting go.

This was it.

Grabbing her packed bag from Astoria, she threw it over her shoulder, heading out with a cold expression on her face.

Her once delightful eyes that lit up anytime she saw her parents were now dark, carrying the same murderous intent as the one who had taken them from her.

“The journey is long and tedious; there will be few stops. You were chosen because of your presumed stamina.”

Meeka secretly eyed the recruiter as he spoke; his demeanor was different, and his voice was softer.

His body was smaller, for some reason, he seemed more gentlemanly.

“And does the Lady Meeka have a question?” He asked her, suddenly pulling her out of her thoughts.

“None.” Meeka responded, clasping her hands together with a small bow.

“One would think otherwise with your intense stare just now.”

Meeka looked up; his fan was pointed at her, his face properly visible, identical to the one she sought.

The grin on his face almost playful, his long golden hair flowing down, a single braid sticking out at the front.

A cough made her realize her mistake: “This servant has committed a mistake.” She apologized; her brain was a mess.

She was seeing the man in front of her, yet he felt like a different person.

With a snap, he opened his folding fan, covering half his face, his grin still evident in his eyes. “It's no problem.”

With a gesture of his hands, the guards brought forth a wagon, and they were ushered in.

Meeka stared at the girls around her, but they all seemed to be in a pleasure world, giggling about how attractive the recruiter looked.

Deciding not to listen to their gossip, Meeka stared at the passing fields, stroking her chin. What was different? Why was he different?

A trained general does not have such a physique.

At least the general she knew didn't have such physique. Can one change that much in a few months?

Recollecting his grinning face, Meeka felt like he was mocking her.

“Are you alright? You've been out of it throughout today.” Astoria whispered into Meeka's ears, her face full of concern.

“Just imagining how life in the palace would be.” Meeka lied with a smile.

There was only one way to find out the truth: when the entourage stopped for the night, she would have no choice but to sneak into his tent to see for herself.

Deciding to rest, Meeka closed her eyes, drowning out the incessant gossip.

Soon, the wagon came to a stop. On high alert, her eyes instantly snapped open, the moon raised high in the night sky.

“We shall set camp here.” The guard outside informed them, and the girls stepped out, stretching and yawning.

Meeka's eyes scanned every corner until she found an extravagant tent by the stream; only one person in this convoy could have such privilege.

According to texts, valerian roots grew well in this area. While everyone was busy drinking from the stream, Meeka sneaked away, relying on memory alone to find some by the edge of the stream.

“Got you.” She whispered in triumph, from what she had read, this was a strong sedative that could work for what she had in mind.

Returning to the camp, Meeka offered to set up the fire. Mixing the valerian roots with the wood and some in the porridge, she made sure to stay away from the smoke.

One by one, they began to fall; the knights had their bowls of porridge laying carelessly by their side.

Walking forward, Meeka gave one a little kick, but he just muttered something and rolled over.

A smirk formed on her face seeing that her plan had succeeded.

With no hesitation, Meeka heads towards the tent, ready to go inside, when she heard the snap of a tree branch behind her.