Princess

The three ladies-in-waiting worked quickly and silently, though none too gently. One carefully plaited Valaria's dark hair into tiny braids and heaped them on top of her head. The other two maids attended her fingers and toes, buffing, trimming, and painting her nails.

"Bring me the perfumed oil, I'll apply it myself." she said shortly. The maids ceded without a word. It was an oil made from the flowers of Lover's Bliss, so the note from her husband had claimed. Valaria applied it thickly on her arms, neck, breasts, stomach, and thighs. Her maids colored and looked away she covered her fingers in the oil, and rubbed it on her nethers and inside.

Valaria stared expressionlessly into the mirror before her. Many women in her situation would be nervous, perhaps giddy...but she found it difficult to feel anything at all. Tonight she would be taken to her husband's bed for the first time, after having married him over a month ago. She had seen him only twice since, which was twice too much. Her movements in his home were closely watched, she was well aware she was more prisoner than bride and always would be. Even so, she had managed to make her plans and find what she needed to carry them out. After tonight, she would be free, her enemy would be dead, and her family avenged. Valaria closed her eyes on this cold and careless room...

Memory carried her back to the warm airy halls of her father's palace. She and the usual troublemakers were sneaking through the halls well after bedtime- Aren, three years her senior and inventor of many grand adventures; Jaliane, barely a year older, stoic, strong and gentle; Covres, nearly her age and wild as a capuchin; Genne and Gevrais, the twins who were so clever at getting into things and places the others could not. Their father was hosting such a grand affair the entire palace had been buzzing with talk of it for weeks. There was no way the group of them could just sleep upstairs with the other young ones, and not even have just one look at the splendor.

Down the stairs they crept, careful not to be seen over the top of the banister. It would not have mattered, the children quickly discovered, as the great hall was so filled with glamor and light and richly costumed men and women that six children in night clothes would hardly be noticed at all.

The people clustered together in small boisterously chattering and brightly glittering groups, or else spun in bejeweled pairs around the ballroom floor. As the children reached the bottom of the stairs, they dispersed, each following a different distraction. Valaria walked barefoot on the cool marble tiled floor, following a woman in a glittering golden gown and a masque with dainty stag's antlers. The woman carefully made her way to a tight knot of people at the back of the hall, calling out cheery greetings to those she passed. No one noticed her wide eyed shadow.

The knot opened to admit the new arrival, and Valaria moved closer to hear the suddenly hushed conversation. "Eviena, so glad you could join us. What do you think of His Majesty's fete?" Asked a gentleman in a blue coat who was being supported by a man in silver who seemed to need the help more than he did.

"Sparkling, Darling, simply sparkling." Replied the antlered woman, Eviena.

"A fine thing, let's all just get dressed up and pretend we're not living under the threat of invasion..." a dour woman in white grumbled.

"Don't be so dreary, Shayelle...Venterak is always making threats. They'd never dream of actually attacking..."

Suddenly Valaria found herself lifted into the air, and a stern voice made her shrink inside: "Aria, what are you doing out of bed?" Her father said loud enough to get the attention of the antlered woman and several others nearby.

"Father...I..." she stammered, but was not given a chance to plead or explain. The King whisked her away and lectured her all the way to the nursery.

None of the others were caught, having made good their escape while Aria provided the distraction.

The maids urged her to stand without a word, and stiffly Valaria obliged them. The three of them towered over her. Blonde ethereal girls with watery blue eyes that gave every evidence of stupidity. Just the way Venteraki men liked their women. They were not beautiful to her eyes, none of these strange pale folk were...not anymore. Valaria felt as small as a child, and could never hope to hide her dark coffee skin and dark hair from their stares and snickers. Every one of these people was as nasty and hateful as their King...she wondered how they could bear to live in a world with no pleasure or joy.

They produced a diaphanous white gown Valaria hoped she would not be required to sleep in, it rested low on her shoulders revealing every bit of bosom; the bodice they set to lacing up tight enough she had to catch her breath. It fell from the hips loosely in many translucent layers, so altogether, had she been as pale as these women, perhaps one would not be able to see straight through the thing.

Aren had been allowed to accompany their father to greet the Emissary from Venterak, because he was a boy and thirteen years old. He came back to the others with stories of the pale giant in unusual and austere black, his chilly and threatening demeanor.

"Why did you get to go, and not Jaliane or me?" Valaria objected when Aren finished his tale. She stood with hands on hips, glaring at her brother with undisguised envy. Jaliane shifted uncomfortably; she was a shy girl and disliked being dragged into disputes between her siblings, but that never fazed Valaria.

Aren blinked; surprised his sister still didn't get it. "Because you're a kid and just a girl anyway." He answered matter-of-factly. Their father had said the same, though his words were gentler...either way, Valaria would not accept it.

"That's not fair, I understand as much as you." She stepped up to her brother, glaring into his eyes.

Aren frowned and shoved her backwards. "Give it up Aria, Father said you couldn't go." Valaria growled under her breath, jumping to her feet and launching herself at Aren. The older boy just moved out of the way.

The other four children sat up, ready to see a fight, but Valaria didn't oblige them. Instead she grabbed Jaliane by the hand and stomped out of the room. The others sat in silence for a few moments, and then Genne piped in softly, "So, what about the other Venteraki? I heard there were four..."

"Where are we going?" Jaliane whispered, trying to maintain some dignity while her younger sister dragged her down a side corridor.

"I want to see the Venteraki emissary myself." Valaria hissed. "I'll show them I know how to get on with foreigners." Jaliane tried to object, but it was useless.

The two of them used the inner passages to get to the visitor's suite, but found the rooms to be empty. Cautiously Valaria slid open the door and crept out into the main room. There was no sign of the strangers.

Jaliane watched from the passage as her sister explored the room, afraid to stay and be caught, and afraid to leave Valaria to the mercy of the pale giants. Then Valaria opened the balcony door and went through. Jaliane decided not to follow.

Beside the rather small balcony was a path to a tiny private garden. Valaria skipped down to the garden below, and froze on the bottom step. In the center of the garden was a small tree in a golden pot, and it was unlike any she had seen before. It had spindly twin trunks so dark they were nearly black, the bark looked smooth, the leaves were large and dark green, somewhat heart-shaped. What truly had her entranced, however, were the flowers, nearly as large as her head and the color of blood, hundreds of fine petals surrounding a deep purple core. It was lovely and strange, and slowly, Valaria reached out her fingers to touch it.

"Who are you, little girl?" a man said suddenly in harsh tones, words clipped at the end. Aria wheeled and found herself face-to-chest with him. She backed up and stared wide-eyed at the young man, broad-shouldered with pale yellow hair and sharp blue eyes, and skin fair as snow. He was strange, frightening, and beautiful. Her breath caught in her throat. "What are you doing here?" he asked after she had only stared, growing impatient. Valaria realized he was barely a man, like her brother, but much taller- he had only the barest shadow of facial hair.

She took a deep breath, and curtseyed deeply. "I am Princess Valaria te'Arike, it is a pleasure to meet you, Lord...?" She smiled at him winsomely.

He smiled in turn, and by the gods his smile was charming, and mischievous. "Ah, Your Highness. I am," he paused and considered, clearly new to the language. "I am Lord Dalleris, Mayor of Eyriek."

"Mayor, really, at your age?" Aria was awed.

"Well, yes, I inherited the title from my father, like you did yours, Princess. So, you like our little Lover's Bliss?" He smiled again.

"I beg your pardon?" Aria blinked. Lord Dalleris laughed, and Aria could not help but smile, though she didn't share his jest.

"The tree, Your Highness. It's called Lover's Bliss, and it is exceptionally rare. In it's native land of Beraberos, far south even of Arike, it grows only in the mountains, and is cherished for its potent magic." He took Aria's hand in his casually, and lead her nearer to the tree. Aria marveled at his strong but soft hand, at the pleasant, musky scent of him, like no one she'd smelled before. She was amused Aren had found the Venteraki so threatening, for Lord Dalleris was nothing of the sort.

The tree had a tangy scent, like orange and pomegranate mingled with sunshine, eucalyptus, and other things she could not name. Aria saw that the leaves were veined in purple, and every possible shade of red was compassed in the petals of the flowers. "Have you been to Beraberos, Lord Dalleris?" She looked up into his keen blue eyes.

"Yes, I've been to many places, but this tree was brought from the King's own gardens as a gift to your father." He smiled and answered her question before she could ask it. "We brought seeds home, a live tree would not make a journey as long as that one, five weeks by sea."

Aria looked back to the tree, and at Lord Dalleris' urging, she stroked the waxy leaf, the velvety petals of the flower. "This tree is magical?" she asked, doubtfully.

"So the natives say. Every part of it has a potent effect when made into potion or poultice. The bark relieves pain, the roots bind wounds without scars. The leaves brew a tea that induces visions, the flowers heighten passion in man or woman...and the fruit...the fruit kills."

She had wanted to ask him more about his travels, but Jaliane was there then, at the top of the stairs pleading with her to come back. She took her leave, trilling when Lord Dalleris kissed her hand in farewell.

Valaria was torn from her reverie, staggering with sudden light-headedness. She caught hold of the back of the chair, noticing bitterly that none of the maids moved to help her.

She steadied herself and nodded for the maids to continue. They wrapped her in a thick white bear-fur robe, carefully arranged her cascade of braids over it. Then they had her raise one foot, then the other, to slip on a dainty satin shoe and lace it up her leg to the knee, then again for the other foot. Valaria held onto the chair, not caring if the maids noticed her unsteadiness. They'd attribute it to her 'racial inferiority', if they thought of it at all, stupid girls that they were.

The maids began to apply glamor to her face, and Valaria closed her eyes, wondering just how horrible they would have her looking when the job was done.

The invasion started when Valaria was seventeen, and was over in little more than a year. The Venteraki King was overthrown by his own son, Prince Gavain. It was then that Valaria learned with what disdain the Venteraki held the Arikean people; the new King wasted no time sending his army into the fertile plains of northern Arike. It's true that by then an invasion had been rumored for more than a decade, but her father had made great effort to find a diplomatic solution to the problem. All of that turned out to be for naught when the new king came to power. Since having been brought to Eyriek, Valaria had learned that King Gavain was a more popular ruler than his line had been in generations, because his actions were perceived as strong.

She had awakened cold and hot and unable to breathe. Choking, she wondered why it was so bright in the dead of night. The air smelled horrible, and her eyes burned. "Princess!" someone was shouting over and over.

That's when Valaria realized something was burning very, very close. She leapt out of her bed, shocked that her floor was still cool to the touch despite the smoke coming in at the windows and the flickering of flames outside. "I'm here!" she cried out, her voice more shrill with terror than she would have liked.

It turned out to be Yves, the brawny palace guard who had frequented the princesses' adolescent fantasies, who called for her. When Valaria came into view of him, he snatched her up without another word and carried her from the palace over one shoulder. She was too befuddled to consider the indignity of it. Before she could assess the horror of the situation, he had practically tossed her into a small carriage with several of her siblings and her father's wives.

Valaria clung to two of her youngest sisters, Laye and Beshania, and the three wailed enough to drown out the rest of the carriage.

They rode for hours, and eventually cries dissolved to whimpers, and in some cases, to snores. Valaria was awake the whole time, eventually she let go her sisters and moved closer to the window.

They reached the high mountain fortress of her ancestors, Chauyelles te'Jallion, shortly after dawn. Arike had not been a warlike nation for many generations, having made peace with most of their neighbors through numerous marriages and contracts. Even so, the royal family had kept this relic of a violent past in reserve, a home away from home in time of strife. Here they could hide in safety while the King defended the land and people.

It wasn't until the next day they were able to discover just how many of the royal family, staff, and servants were lost in the surprise attack on the capital city of Orpheres.

It was entirely too dark. Her eyes looked sunken, her cheeks and lips were heavy with reddish paint. If she cared, Valaria would make them do it all again, but she didn't care if the King liked the way she looked, as long as he was interested enough to do his duty. The thought that he might gag at the taste of this pasty substance on her lips was the only thing that could make Valaria stomach the idea of letting him kiss her.

"Your...Highness, it's time." The tallest girl said. Valaria nodded, choosing to ignore the snide tone. Soon none of it would matter anyway. The three of them set towards the door, and after a moment to steady herself, Valaria followed.

The halls of the Venteraki castle were narrow and austere, with narrow, high windows that let in little air and light. There were tapestries on the walls, but bland and faded things, intended not to cheer the atmosphere so much as keep out the cold. As if anything could warm this dreary place.

Perhaps she should have watched where the girls lead, to learn the route from her chambers to her husband's, but instead Valaria let her thoughts wander once more.

King Gavain of Venterak was tall, broad-shouldered and strong of build with pale yellow hair and trim beard, blue eyes sharp as knives, features as fair and hard as chiseled marble. Valaria recognized him at once, Lord Dalleris he had named himself. He had lied.

She stood before him with all of her remaining like-aged sisters, trying hard not to let her fear show. He paced down the line, glancing over each, but stopped before her. "Blue eyes. I remember you, Princess Valaria." He muttered, eyeing her like a buyer looks over a horse at market. Valaria lifted her chin and clinched her fists, but he turned from her to address his troops. "This is the one...throw these others in with the rest."

Valaria gasped and Jaliane shrieked as the soldiers roughly pulled them apart. One pulled Valaria after the King; Jaliane was herded out with the rest of their sisters back to the dungeons. "Let me go! Let my sisters go! You monster!" Valaria screamed and spat at her captors. The soldiers and the King ignored her.

Valaria was held captive in her own room for a week, and she learned early that escape was not possible, but the attempt was very painful. She had no news of the conquest, of her family, or her captors during that time, but at the end of a week Venteraki women were sent in to dress her in her plainest gown, and throw her possessions into trunks. They marched her out to the courtyard, dragged her trunks to the carriage house.

She saw her family for the last time in that courtyard, as one by one they fell to the executioner's axe, while she was held by two soldiers to prevent her leaping to their rescue. As if she could have done anything. After the grisly deed was done, Valaria was thrown into a carriage, her hands and feet secured so she sat spread-eagled on the back facing seat.

After a few moments, her family's murderer joined her. She tried to leap at him, but her bonds held. He ignored her. Eventually she fell into quiet sobs, and then silence.

"What do you want with me?" she asked at last, her resolve worn down by dread and curiosity.

"You're to be my wife, to legitimize my rule of your land," he answered in clipped words. He did not bother to look up from the papers in his lap.

Valaria was stunned silent a moment, then spat at him angrily, "Never!"

The King looked up at her, his face that of a glacier. "You have no choice, Princess."

"I'll die first. I'll kill you." she growled.

"You'll learn to love me, little Aria. You'll have no choice in that, either. "

"Never!"

He laughed and produced a small stoppered phial with red liquid within. "Oil of Lover's Bliss," he said simply, unstoppered the phial and rubbed the thick liquid on his hands, his lips. He came to sit beside her, and she began to fight her bonds, desperate to escape, to kill him, anything.

Then he kissed her neck, and fire coursed her veins, igniting an instant lust. She closed her eyes as he kissed her throat, shoulders, and chest. He unlaced her dress enough to pull it down, exposing her pert breasts and hardened, chocolate nipples. He took one into his mouth, sucking gently, holding her nipple in his teeth as he teased it with his tongue. She cried and moaned, on fire with need and hating him for making her feel this way. When his attentions had her mad with desire, he slipped his hand up her skirt, caressing her thigh, then parting her nether lips, seeking her pleasure button, stroking it mercilessly. He moved to kiss her, and she welcomed him, tears streaming down her face. She kissed him deeply and fiercely, lust and hate entwined.

He left her then, unfulfilled. He smirked at her as he returned to his paperwork, ignoring her tears of despair and frustration.

Valaria was let into her husband's chambers and left alone. She knew enough of Venteraki ways by now to know the rooms must be secure, guarded, and watched. Her plan wouldn't require her to do anything but what they wanted her to, anyway.

His sitting room was just what she expected, austere, stiff backed chairs, bland tapestries, only one window, small by Arikean standards but largest she had seen in the castle, dark gray rug of wolf's hide on the floor. She strode to the window and looked down on the gardens, seeing the greenhouse where the Lover's Bliss was grown. Herlos, the Beraberosian gardener-slave, was a cheery man, the only one such she had seen here. He had been hesitant to give her the three hard red fruits, but in the end sympathy won out, and he even showed her how to extract the juice without waste or getting it on her skin. She hoped he would be long gone before morning, when her deeds were discovered.