Her heart thumped in her ears, throat parched, and eyes stung behind the blood-red veil. Women in her kingdom wore soft colors representing their bright hope for their coming lives and their untainted virtues but her dress was sent by her betrothed. Red. Red like blood.
The ambassadors arrived before the break of dawn with attire for the bride. And not even a needle for the rest of the royal Family which was against the norm but Ehan was barely a piece of land Rabkhar could plunder any day.
She fisted the seam of her long Charmeuse scarlet dress. A stark contrast against her pale skin. Everything that had her name on it was packed with carriages full of dowry, and those gifts from everybody who was anybody.
Ehan was a land of hunters. They were stronger than an average human with different vitals but still against nightly beast they had no stand. So the Treaty with the Rabkhar took place.
They say the Royals of Ehan had a unique scent to them which was mostly why they agreed. She was shivering to her bones but kept her composure. She took a deep breath and waved her hand at the guard. He at once opened the doors to the Grand Hall wide open.
Her eyes flickered to the two Foreign Representative ambassadors who looked like anything but respectable noblemen who knew a thing about diplomacy. Monstrously tall and wide physiques, devilishly handsome features, and arrogance to match. Both of them were Werewolves but didn't look out of place among hunters.
In the Sitting Hall with Thirty other council Seniors and the King, they were cozy. Flirting with maids, drinking, and gobbling food like wretched men. Her nose scrunched up in distaste. They didn't bother with courtesy to the King and had been playing around like it was their mother's pavilion.
She knew this as news in these thick walls traveled fast. Their heads at once turned to her and both halted mid-air, and with a swipe of unseen speed, they were in her face. She stumbled a step back on the threshold but a hand shot out to her elbow steadying her.
The hand disappeared as it came but gave her balance. She couldn't tell whose hand it was between these two.
"I'm Rurik, the Second in Commander of the South Border, assigned to escort the Princess." The broad man with a scowl etched on his face spoke. He tilted his head at the man, equally displeased, "He's Ivan."
No last names, courtesy, or proper introduction. An obvious insult.
But she was being sold so there was hardly any offense not done. So she tipped her head in greeting. "I'm—"
"The tribute, we know." He scowled as he said that. Her heart tore a little. If mere escorts treated her like this her standing in the Rabkhar was more than obvious if it wasn't before. A sadistic part of her was glad her father was here to see this so it would torment him in days he would think of her.
Her gloved hand that she was instinctively extending for them to kiss paused and her heartbeat slumped. Her face heated and her eyes blazed which she wished they couldn't see past her heavy red lace veil.
Deciding to disregard the scoundrels, she set her jaw and took her eyes away from them to her father who was looking at the exchange with a pained expression. Such a fraudster! She wanted to snatch his staff and gut him so he knew the pain she was feeling.
She leaped to him in a deep courtesy still holding her crown upright on her head. She wanted him to be in agony. If curses didn't come with sacrifices, she would have cast a spell or two on him.
"My King." She whispered with her voice clogged in her tears. Her grief was hardly because she would miss him. If she had to, she could substitute him with an indoor plant for how much of a role he had played in her life.
But he was her only family.
"My child." Her father met her halfway. His voice was heavy with fabricated emotions. An act. An act of a trickster! He held his arm to her, she clenched her jaw. So cold, so like him.
Knowing what was coming, she took his arm hesitantly as he guided her to the open balcony, her steps felt heavy as she glided on the marble flooring. A huge crowd was spread wherever eyes rested.
A gloomy smile rose on her lips, she was young when her father was crowned but she remembered vividly there wasn't even this much crowd when he was crowned.
They had come to bid her farewell. These teary and heartbroken faces some she recognized, many she didn't. She had served them for years and this was her reward. Her people loved her.
They had come to see her. She had an urge to rip off the veil and meet them eye to eye. Instead, her eyes fell on a silk scarf-covered tray. She unwrapped it to see a wine glass.
It was Ehanian tradition for wedded couple to chug a cup of wine down in front of everyone to honor their wedding but her to-be husband had yet humiliated her by not even showing up.
But for the sake of her people, she raised the glass with no toast and brought it in her veil to chug down. It was what tributes did. To show they were married for the nation and to the nation.
Her tears slid down as the bitter wine trickled down her throat.
It took a moment to register, then deafening cheers, cries, and hollering boomed thunderously. A mocking laugh bubbled in her throat. This was one of the reasons she knew why she was being sacrificed.
The power she had over the Kingdom's people. The councilmen whose daughters are mothers of princes were scared she would seize the throne as she had all the props to.
After the tradition was done with ,she was seated in the hall, beside her father where the Queen should have been. The discussion of terms was in full swing, she dare not lift her still veiled head.
"… No entourage is permitted, though the Princess's luggage will leave before us." Rurik concluded.
Her head shot up and words left her before she could down bite her tongue, "My entourage will follow me." The resolution and sternness in her tone fitted her status.
Silence ensued but she kept her head high.
She clenched her fist, her jaw clicked. Her life was thrown in honor of a compromise but this was something she refused to let loose.
"Very well then, two of Princess Servers can accompany her," Ivan spoke with mock amusement in his tone. He hadn't spoken a word till now.
"No! My entou—" Her father encaged her hand and clenched it that a little misplaced cry left her.
"The Princess is grateful." A rage like never before sprung up, as her head jerked to him. For the first time, she saw him for what he was. He fed her desires so he could manipulate her. 'Did he even care he was trading her by shoving all the niceties on her face?' She wondered.
She snatched her hand from his clutches and straightened her posture. She resented the man who talked to her annually for ten minutes. Even he didn't want a female heir on the throne so it was imperative he was sending her away.
Everything after that was a blur. The only time that she regained back focus was when the carriage was jerking her back and forth. She was sporting quite a bit of bruises on her pale skin by now.
It had been roughly a day and a half and they haven't even bothered stopping for sleep or eating breaks. Just two hours a day to let the horses rest and feed and that happened to be the only time she ate, drank or sneaked out to relieve herself.
She wondered if they thought they were delivering a package because not once have they bothered making a conversation with her or checking in on her to see if she was still breathing and not impaled with something sharp in there. Which was fine by her because even the thought of those night creatures in her vicinity scared her shitless.
They were beastly creatures who didn't need rest so they hardly bothered with it but her body was sore from being cramped in a sitting position so much that she brought her legs up but still couldn't rest a wink.
On the night of the second day, the carriage came to a halt jerking her forward and her door was knocked, she stilled as a shock of awareness zapped her body. A pile of possibilities struck her. Did they go hungry and wanted to maul her? They were beasts... Her eyes immediately flickered to the locks in place which even she knew was hardly an assurance.
"We are here, Princess." A loud gruff voice bellowed. For a sec, she stayed frozen then patted her heart and slid the window open to see the two men nowhere instead a man dressed like a butler looking at her with an irked disposition.
He was a beastly creature but she'd no reason to delay so hesitantly she tried to step out but slipped because of her sore legs. A hand shot out and held her, halting her fall. I looked up to see Eloise, looking not as haggard as I was but still flustered from the chill of the night in Rabkhar.
Princess Laylin's Governess put a shawl on her. They had arrived a day before she did. Her luggage, Governess, and maid were made to go first.