The Heiress

Rushed footfalls sound like royal trumpets, high and mighty on marble floors. The leader, Esme stands at the forefront with her head held towards the sky.

I turn to her, sighting her past the length of my hood.

“I need your help.” She says.

It exhausts me to hear her speak. The way her voice comes out proud. Yet, I can still feel it shaking even if others can't.

We lock eyes. She holds my gaze for a second longer than normal.

I stop sharpening my knife.

“What would you need from me?” I ask waving the knife between us.

Esme's face falters, and for a moment I can see vulnerability behind her mask.

She squeezes her eyes closed and then opens them with a blank stare. “A child.” Silence creeps through the room. A resonating silence.

“Why should I help you?” I ask starting the grinder back up. Esme sucks her teeth and comes closer. I watch her step in the corner of my eyesight, looking just past my hood.

She stands stiffly at my side and in a whisper, she utters, “Please.”

I move the knife and hold it up to the light. It glistens brightly and casts an arc of light over her golden eyes.

“You’re a woman. Why can’t you do it?” I ask her standing up. Her guards move to watch me closely.

Had I not been this close to royalty with a knife, they might not have been so jumpy. I test them and twist the knife in my hand playfully. The bigger of the four, inches closer but remains cautious.

“I can do it…it’s just,” she pauses and casts her eyes to the ground. Something in my stomach sinks. It wasn’t that she couldn’t, it was about whom she had to do it with.

“You went through with it?” I ask. My voice reaches a higher octave than I was expecting.

She nods woefully.

“And you want me to sleep with him?” I ask doubtfully. 'Was she always insane?'

“Please, all they are asking for is an heir…they never said which sister had to provide it.” She winces at the sound of the statement as it leaves her mouth.

“Are you serious, Esme?” I ask harshly. By now her guards were not two feet away. I realize how close the blade is to her neck.

I throw the dagger to the ground and glare at the men at my side. They step back with lowered eyes.

'How dare they raise their hands at me.'

“Ozma,” Esme says quietly. Her golden eyes glisten with unshed tears.

I stare at her in disbelief. 'It's confirmed she's insane. She wants me to lay with the enemy and bear his son when she herself is not woman enough to do it?'

“Ozma, if I could do it I would. But I have to run the kingdom.” Esme says.

“You have to run the kingdom.” I deadpan. “This kingdom doesn’t belong to you, Esme. It rightfully belongs to me, magic or not. And if I bear that man’s bastard then I will take what’s mine.” I say. Esme’s eyes flash in challenge.

“Then by all means. Please do,” Esme turns her back to me. She glances over her shoulder. “And Ozma...”

“What is it, your highness?” I ask mockingly.

She frowns. “You look beautiful today,” she says.

Her cloak flutters after her fast-paced steps. I watched her go silently, for there was nothing I could manage to say. I pull the hood from my head and let the white locks tumble in front of me.

'Beauty is an insult.'

I rip the shroud from my shoulders and collect my knives.

'I have an heir to conceive.'

The townsfolk watch me as I pass, covering their whispering mouths. Insunutations flying at rapid speed.

'Not faster than my daggers, I presume.' But slaughtering my kingdom’s citizens would only make my job harder.

The way through the town is narrow. Citizens don’t greet me as they should greet a princess, but they watch me with the same awe and mysticism one would reserve for royalty.

I keep my shoulders squared and my head low. My white hair continued grabbing everyone’s attention.

The palace waits for me at the end of Killas Road, the road of travelers, the road of crime, and a road not often walked by our townsfolk.

The instant my boots meet the dusty road a few gasps resound behind me.

I was leaving my kingdom. 'Oh, how scandalous!'

'If they knew where I was headed, and what for, would they hate me? Would they shield their children’s eyes at the swell of my stomach? Would they curse me while they break their bread?' I sure hope so for my sacrifice was greater than three kingdoms colliding.

Nightfalls faster than my feet can guide me.

The cool air sweeps in, and the clouds black out the moon’s light. Darkness surrounds me but doesn’t entirely engulf all of the lights. No, the light from my hair is enough to brighten the area in front of me, just like snow, and just like the moonlight.

Another's steps fall in tune with mine. I can’t pinpoint their location and neither do I care to try. If someone would rob a mage then they were in for some fun. As I near the edge of the dirt path, all sound around me ceases.

My own footsteps fall deft on my ears.

A nomad.

I stop walking and wait. Whomever it was was strong, I could sense their magic through the air. It’s warm and electrifying. A bright light beams from the tree line on the roadside. I cover my eyes and slip a blade down from my sleeve. From out of the darkness steps a man, a giant.

He smirks down at me.

“Princess Ozma, welcome to the Willows.” He says in his harsh dialect. The language of the giants and the orcs was the same basey, crass, speech and left their humanous entirely too choppy, but he was fluent.

Even his clothes were clean, white, and free of wrinkles. I eye his embroidered tunic once before looking the ten-foot man in the eyes.

“You’re quite small to be in the court,” I say folding my arms over my chest.

“And you are too beautiful to be insulting.” He says with a gentle smile. Lines appear around his mouth and straight shiny teeth peak from his rosy lips.

“Take me to him,” I say.

I push my dagger back up my sleeve.

“I see, so you will be fulfilling the contract, am I correct?” He asks coming closer. The closer he stands the more intimidating his magic becomes. It cracks and ripples around me in the wind he creates.

“Yes.” The wind grabs me and pulls us in a flurry through the trees. I hold my breath and force my eyes close. The whooshing sound in my ears makes them numb. The world around me spins and then brightens. Heat gathers on my skin like leeches. I swallow hard to stop the nausea creeping up my throat.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, I should have warned you.” The man says. His eyes sparkle with merit. I glare at him sucking in a deep breath.

“Forget it grotto.” His eyes widen in surprise.

“You speak Nansmo?” He asks. Never mind I called him scum, he only wanted to know if I spoke his language. I roll my eyes and look around us. The throne room is identical to my sister's except it is decorated in gold, and paired with the softest white chairs, and a large table with a map of The Union.

The Union is our country, but for him to have a map when they live so barbarically is astounding.

“Welcome princess,” calls a man.

I brace myself and turn my head to the far side of the room where the throne sits perched up on a platform. Like a crow.

I push back my disgust and nod to him.

“I hope you’ve had a sound journey. No… accidents on your way in.”

“No one would dare touch royalty.” I spit back and pace the room to the edge of his platform.

He raises a dark brow at me and smirks. As he stands his waist-length hair dances around him tied into a loose braid and garnished with jewels.

'Jewels he took from my people'. I grit my teeth together.

“We have business to attend to,” I say as politely as possible. I pull my hair back into a messy bun.

His eyes widen and he chuckles humorously. “Are you proposing we do it here where my citizen affairs take place?” He tilts his head.

I reach behind me and untie the knot in my laced bodice.

“I don’t see why not.” I can’t help the grin on my face. Dumb awkward jokes are my forte.

His dark eyes drop to the edges of my dress, caked in mud and sand. He winces.

“Did you walk here?” He asks.

I huff out releasing my back from the pressure of my corset was always the best feeling. “Can’t stand a little dirt, Kod?”

His eyes whip to mine at the familiarity of his name. “You’re quite the vixen.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine," I glance around the throne room for a corridor entrance. "where is your bedroom?” I ask. My patience and confidence were wearing thin.

King Kod stands for a moment before stuffing his hands into this pocket and descending the two steps off of the platform. His braid follows after him like a tail.

He leans over me. His dark eyes flit around my face endlessly. “You seem quite eager, Ozma.” He mumbles.

I manage to hold my gasp. 'My name on his lips was…enraging.' He had no right to use my given name. His hand traces up my arms slowly. Goosebumps rise on my skin.

“I’m not eager.” I manage to say, finding my voice.

He hums letting his fingers trace over my shoulder and up to my neck.

Someone clears their throat behind us and we break apart. I reach behind me instinctively and tighten my bodice. The woman kept her eyes towards the ground, though her cheeks were brightly flushed.

I gaze around the room until I find my own reflection. My shoulders drop. I cannot recognize myself. Not with white hair, not with…purple eyes. I tear my eyes from the clear surface and refocus my attention on the conversation.

“She has come already.”

Kod lets an angry breath out of his nose. “Send her in.” Once the woman has bowed and left he turns to me. His eyes gaze over me once and he looks away.

“Do you need help?” He asks. I stare at him until I understand his request. I turn but don’t reply. His hands nudge mine out of the way and redress the laces quickly.

“You seem experienced,” I say, and curse myself after. He chuckles lowly. Kod leans forward pressing his lips to the shell of my ear.

“You’ll see.” He mumbles before pulling away. His steps are slow-paced then joined by another.

I shake the tingles from my skin and school my face.

I was here for one thing only. To do this duty. Then I had more pressing matters to attend to. There was a kingdom’s claim I needed to make and soon.

A woman with a slender silhouette lingers around Kod. She wore a veil over the lower half of her face and stood tall like a wall and straight like a board. I almost snicker.

He’s found himself musing with one of the snottiest women to walk the earth. She made Esme seem bashful.

I nod my head to her and she acknowledges me with her eyes. Kod turns his attention to me and sighs.

“Princess Rahni, this is Ozma, the second princess of Vasudhara.” He turns his body to me and holds a hand out to her.

“Princess Ozma, this is Rahni, the first princess of Udarcis.” I close the distance between us and offer her the sweetest smile I can manage.

She looks down at the edge of my dress and snorts. Her eyes connect with mine.

“Second princess, indeed.” She says.

“For your information, Rahni, the second princess is always the strongest, and most worthy of the crown. The first princess is always for selling.” I keep my smile but she frowns. The outline of her lips are present under her silk, red veil.

“What business do you have here Ozma? I don’t see you here often.”

“I owe you no answers. Excuse me.” I turn away from her and take a seat on the throne. I almost laugh at the way her eyes widen. She turns sharply to Kod who blinks blankly in my direction.

Princess Rahni whispers something aggressively which gets his attention. I hate being a royal. Everyone’s such a suck-up. He listens to her while keeping his intense gaze on me.

After a minute I squirm. His gaze is unnerving. I would hate to do swordplay with him. After a moment he holds a hand up to Princess Rahni.

“I do not appreciate that kind of language in my palace Princess. Now, if you would excuse me it is awfully late to be taking visitors."

Princess Rahni shakes her head and steps back. “I see. Goodnight, Your Highness.”

“Goodnight, princess.”

She walks to the doorway of the throne room and eyes me once before departing.

Kod stares after her. Quickly his eyes lock with mine for the unteenth time.

I push a lock of white hair behind my ear.

“You put up quite a show,” Kod says crossing the throne room.

I shrug untrusting of my voice. Why was he looking at me like that?

He walks slowly up the platform steps and leans forward. His hands come down gently on the throne’s armrests.

He looks me over.

“You look good on my throne.” He whispers. My heart picks up and I swallow dryly.

“Does that turn on you Kod? Little ol’ Ozma sitting on your throne?” I ask. It’s a dangerous game to play with the enemy. But a contract is a contract.

“Perhaps.” He says straightening. Kod stuffs his hands into the pockets of his loose, baggy, trousers.

“I’m quite tired tonight. I’ll have someone show you to your room.” I scoff and stand up.

“Oh no, I’m not staying. If you’re not ready then I am heading home.” He raises a brow then bits lightly on his bottom lip. “Are you sure you want to try tonight? Have you even checked for your fertile cycle?”

I open my mouth but have nothing to say.

'Of course, I didn’t check my fertile cycle. Why the hell would I do that? I’ve never tried making a child. I don’t know the technicals, I only know the physicals.'

He laughs loudly and honestly throwing his head back. The sound washes over the palace walls.